A/N: I know it's been appallingly long since my last update, so I'd be surprised if anyone was still reading this, but life just happens, you know? This story does have an end, I swear, and I do intend to get to it one day.


Three weeks later

Claire got home from work late and had little desire to try to cook anything, lest it end in disaster. The safest, easiest option was to order takeout, and she was no stranger to the various restaurants whose delivery radius included her apartment building. Menus covered most of the space on her refrigerator, two or three layers deep in places, but there was one corner she had recently cleared.

Instead of pondering her meal choices, her gaze drifted over to that corner, the spot where she had placed a post-it-note, three weeks ago. It was his handwriting—John's—and it still gave her a jolt every time she saw it. Without thinking, Claire reached up and peeled the note off the fridge door. She held it in her hand as if it was the most valuable thing she owned because in a way, it was. It was the only tangible proof she had to remind her that John's return hadn't just been a fantasy.

She and John had gone their separate ways after the wedding, just like they had agreed. They'd had their one, wonderful night together, and then, while Claire was in the shower the next morning, John had left. Truthfully, Claire couldn't say that she had been surprised. In fact, she would have almost gone so far as to say that she had expected it.

Neither one of them had wanted to admit it out loud, but they both knew that he couldn't stay. One night didn't change anything, and reality had been waiting to greet them along with the sunrise. John had a life to get back to, and so did she.

There was one small flicker of hope, though—one little, yellow square of paper that made her think that maybe something had changed.

Didn't want to say goodbye. Call me some time.

-John

He didn't vanish like he had six years ago. He left her with a way to contact him. She hadn't used his phone number yet, but knowing that she could call him whenever she wanted to made all the difference in the world. John had placed the ball squarely in her court. It was one-hundred-percent her choice whether or not to turn their 'one night' into something more. She wondered if it was his way of making up for the fact that she had been forced into a reunion with him.

Whatever the reason, Claire appreciated the breathing room. She tenderly placed the note back on the refrigerator and secured it with a sushi-shaped magnet. It was starting to lose its stickiness, and she wanted to make sure it stayed right where it was.

xxx

Andy carefully stepped over the low stacks of boxes and wedding presents that were still sitting on the floor of his living room. There had been no time to put anything away before leaving on their honeymoon, and even less time to do so after returning home. Allison declared that Saturday was the day that they were officially going to tackle the chaotic mess in the Clark-Reynolds household, but fortunately, Andy found an excuse to put off cleaning for a little while longer.

He was on the hunt for the second album of proofs that the wedding photographer had dropped off on Thursday. The first album was currently making its rounds through his family and probably wouldn't resurface again until Christmas. The couple had requested another so that their friends would be able to order pictures as well.

"I can't find it!" he shouted to Allison, who was in the other room. "Where did you say it was?"

"Under the pile of wrapping paper!" she yelled back.

Andy took a quick look around him. Allison had organized the castoff wrapping paper into three piles, one of which looked like it would topple over if he got too close to it. He didn't want to move that one. "Which pile?!"

Allison entered the living room and calmly lifted the neatly folded pile of wrapping paper. "The one I'm going to use for my art project," she said.

"Thanks." Andy picked up the photo album from under the pile, and then kissed his wife. "I shouldn't be long," he told her. "And then I promise I'll help put some of this stuff away."

"No rush," Allison replied. "It's not like I'm looking forward to it any more than you are. And I think you're going to be at Claire's longer than you realize. She's going to do more than just flip through the pictures like you did. She's going to actually take time and look at them. It should be interesting to see her reaction, though."

"Why? She was at the wedding, it's not like any of it's going to be new."

"No, but you know what they say about photographs," she said with an air of mystery. "Sometimes they catch things that we don't see at the time. Even if they are right in front of us."

xxx

Claire slowly made her way through the proof album with a pen in hand, and made a list of the pictures she wanted to have copies of. She had already chosen a few from the morning as the bridesmaids were getting ready, and now she was looking at the men getting ready at the church. Her heart skipped a beat when she saw the first picture of John. For some reason, it hadn't occurred to her that looking at the pictures would mean confronting him again.

She turned the page and laughed at the next series of photos. It looked like Andy was trying to murder John. "What on Earth was going on here?" she asked, turning the book toward Andy.

"Oh," Andy said dryly, "That was me trying to get Bender to wear his tie."

Claire smiled fondly. "He hates ties."

"I think he just likes pissing me off."

Claire turned back to the album and chatted casually with Andy as she looked it over. The photographer did an amazing job at capturing the ceremony. Claire marked down a few more pictures that she liked—a couple of the entire wedding party together, and a particularly nice one of her and Brian. Everything was fine until she reached the photos taken at the reception.

Andy noticed that Claire had suddenly gone quiet. "What's wrong?" he asked.

"Nothing," she answered quickly. "I just realized that I never offered you anything to drink." She stood up. "Do you want a glass of iced tea?"

Since she was already halfway to the kitchen, he didn't think he could refuse. "Sure. That'd be great."

Once she was out of the room, Andy slid the album over to have a look at what had made Claire leave the room so promptly. When he saw the photos, he finally understood what Allison had meant.

In the kitchen, Claire took a deep breath. She needed a minute to collect her thoughts. Seeing herself with John had been a shock. They were in the background of many of the reception photos, mostly sitting at the head table. He had his arm draped around her as if they were a perfectly natural couple. She could practically feel his fingers move across her shoulder the way they had that night, tracing little patterns and igniting something very powerful within her.

But perhaps most damning were the pictures of them dancing together. She barely recognized herself; she looked so happy and content. As if she were at home in his arms. And John, ever the realist, looked like he was trying to enjoy the moment and hold on to her for as long as he could.

Claire glanced over to his note on the refrigerator, and it finally hit her how much not being with him ached. She had ignored it and convinced herself to wait for her emotions to settle, but after three weeks, she still felt the same heady rush whenever she thought about him. The truth that she had been trying to deny was staring her right in the face.

She had missed John more over the past three weeks than she had over the past six years.

He was like an addiction. He made her feel the way she felt about alcohol when she was trying to get sober—she wanted him more than anything in the world, and if she didn't get more of him soon, she was pretty sure she would die.

Claire sighed. She needed to talk to someone, and even though Andy was a good friend, she couldn't talk to him about John. He was too much a part of their history to remain objective. She remembered the glee in his voice when she asked him for John's number at the motel. She doubted that even Brian could stay truly impartial. No, there was only one person she could trust to be completely honest with her, even though he wasn't going to like hearing what she had to say.

But first, she somehow had to get through the rest of those pictures.