Chapter 42. You'll See the Dawn Again

"Jesus…" Addison sweeps a hand underneath the bubbly surface of her bathwater, and finds the culprit that was digging into the soft flesh behind her hipbone. She holds up a rubbery seahorse figure for her husband, who is brushing his teeth nearby at the bathroom sink. "I need to start sticking our kid in her own tub again," she adds with a grin and a quiet laugh. "An extra flight of stairs to get to the third floor is worth being out of breath. Better than taking a toy in the ass, at least. I know, I know, I heard it – shut up. Don't say anything."

Mark cannot resist smirking, but he gives her a dutiful thumbs-up and continues brushing his teeth without comment.

Addison sets the seahorse down outside the alcove tub. It was mostly her fault for not checking properly before she poured in the bubbles, anyway. If nothing else though, it produced a smile and a laugh, which is good. Which is progress. It has been almost a month now. She is living and existing with the loss. She carries it everywhere, and it hurts, but there have been more moments of happiness lately, and sometimes the grief feels softer, somehow.

"I can't wait until I'm not pregnant and I can take a long bath again. A hot bath. Except…" Addison glances at Mark once more, who meets her eyes in the bathroom mirror. Surely, he knows where she is going with this thought. "Not being pregnant means I'll have a newborn, so a long, hot bath probably won't be an option."

"Well…" Mark begins after he has spit and rinsed. "You've got a husband who is available to help, so you can definitely take a long, hot bath when Kid One is asleep and Kid Two isn't hanging off your boob."

"You always paint such beautiful imagery of our life together."

"I try." He sets his toothbrush down and turns to face her. "Hey, Addison? Our anniversary is in a few days."

"Fuck," Addison responds softly. She sinks a little lower in the bubbles.

Mark shows her a teasing smile. "Yeah, I'm hoping so."

"I just…" she does the math in her head. December eighth is next Monday. Five more days. "I knew it was in a couple days, but I also didn't know, I guess. Pregnancy Brain and Grieving Brain. Oh, and being back at work trying to cram in as many consults and surgical-related things as I can into the next two weeks before I go on leave."

"We don't have to do anything if you don't want. I, uh, I wanted you to know though that I reserved a room at the Athénée for Friday and Saturday. I booked it a few weeks ago…" Mark's voice fades away, and she fills in the unspoken words, tightening a fist around the porcelain rim of the tub. Before. Before your dad died. "Anyway. Sav and Weiss are still available to take Kate Friday afternoon through Sunday morning, but only if you want. We really don't have to do anything."

Addison smiles at the mention of the hotel where they got married. "No, that – that sounds really nice, Mark. We haven't been back there since our wedding. Thank you, for thinking of that. Did, um. Did you get me anything yet? And if yes, are you planning on giving it to me over the weekend or on our actual anniversary?"

"I feel like I'm not supposed to tell you that." Mark sits down on the accent stool near the tub. She looks up at him, eyes becoming sad. Sadder, actually. They are looking more blue lately, Mark thinks – he has always felt that Addison's eyes appear greener both during and after she has cried – but, understandably, nothing since early November has been easy.

"I'm just trying to gauge how bad I should feel for basically forgetting about our anniversary," she tells him. "Which also means forgetting to get you anything. And it's already Wednesday and we have that thing at Kate's school tomorrow night, so if you were planning to give me something on Friday then -"

"You shouldn't feel any level of bad. And you definitely don't have to get me anything." Mark swipes his thumb along her collarbone, easing away some of the bubbles clinging to her skin.

"Remember when you used to never remember birthdays and things like that? One year you were genuinely surprised when Derek and I invited you over for Thanksgiving…because apparently you forgot about it." She manages a weak grin. "I'm feeling a bit nostalgic for that at the moment."

"That was before we were a couple and had a kid together." He squeezes her shoulder, fingers slipping against her damp skin. "Ad? Can I say something sappy?"

"Always."

"It's been a really, really hard few weeks for you. And I'm sure you'd like nothing more than to just sleep and have no responsibilities and sit in the pain, but instead you've got a kindergartner, a fetus, and a pain-in-the-ass husband…and you're going to work and you're trying to smile and you're hanging in there. So you don't need to get me anything. I really just want to spend time with you, especially with the holidays coming up and everything…it's kind of like our last chance for a getaway before it's two against two in the house. But I would also understand if you just want to go to the hotel by yourself for the weekend, and that's fine, too."

Addison giggles at the last part, and blinks away lingering tears. "Tempting, but I'd like to spend time with you, too. Fair warning though: I can't even promise anniversary sex at this point. My lungs are overcrowded and my uterus has really stepped up its Braxton Hicks game lately."

"That's okay…" Mark helps her to her feet when she makes a motion for some assistance to get out of the tub. He hands Addison the fluffy robe she left nearby. "We'll have a good time even if you don't want my anniversary wood."

She leans into his embrace, laughing again. "You're an idiot."

-

"You can turn the volume up if you want…" Addison mumbles. Something on ESPN flickers in the background on the hotel flat screen, but she is much too tired to do anything other than rest her head on her husband's chest, angled slightly sideways in the bed to accommodate the baby bump between them. "It won't prevent me from falling asleep. What a hot date I am. I'm going to pass out before nine-thirty on a Friday night."

Mark chuckles. "You say that like I won't fall asleep like five minutes after you. I can't hang either anymore. I hope your belief that Henry is going to be a mellow little dude is still holding true. The newborn stage in general is exhausting, but remember how rough weeks two and three were when Kate was so colicky? I was thinking about that today."

"I will have you know I have gone a full twenty-four hours without crying. Don't make me break my streak by thinking about that."

"Okay, deal. But hey, in defense of our tired asses, we did have a busy evening. We got a lot of Christmas shopping done and –"

"Don't bother with excuses," Addison interrupts with a giggle. "We're just not cool anymore."

"Some would argue – Savvy, for instance – that I wasn't cool to begin with."

"That's true. I got you something, by the way."

"While we were out shopping?" He asks. "How did you manage that? We were together like the whole time."

"No, I mean for our anniversary. I ordered it last night, but it probably won't get here until next week. I'm telling you what it is now though, to lessen my guilt…" Addison rolls her eyes when she feels him inhale in order to speak. "And yes, I know I didn't have to get you anything. Anyway, it's a personalized whiskey set. You know, glasses, a decanter, whiskey stones. It comes in an engraved wooden box, so I even nailed the wood part. It has your last name on it, so you can even re-gift it to one of the kids when they're all grown up."

"Thank you," he smiles and kisses the top of her head. "I love it. Or I will love it. But you're definitely threatening to break my cry streak by alluding to our kids drinking one day. Like, the idea that Kate – and Henry, I guess, but mostly I'm stuck on the Kate part – will drink alcohol scares the hell out of me. And why do I feel like she'll be able to drink scotch like a champ?"

Addison laughs. "Because she has our genes. You've got a lot more years before you need to worry about her sneaking booze though. And I doubt expensive scotch is going to be what she and her friends will want to try when they give alcohol a go for the first time."

"I guess so. Hey," he nudges her shoulder. "Five years. Well, five years and some change, technically."

"Five years and some change," she repeats. "You and me. Who would have thought?"

"Before we were together? Absolutely no one. Present company included."

"It would have been kind of a hard thing to visualize all those years ago," she admits. "I'm glad we found each other though, Mark. I mean, I know you were there and I was there the whole time, but it was still…it was still kind of like being lost and finding each other, right?"

He smiles and hugs her tighter. "Right."

-

When Addison opens her eyes, she fuzzily decides that she cannot remember the last time she has woken up not tired. Restless slumbers brought on by heartache is a contributing factor, but the physical aches and pains of being thirty-two weeks pregnant is probably the more potent reason now. The space beside her is empty, and the sound of water echoing off tiles confirms Mark is in the shower. She rolls over to look at the bedside clock – 9:07 is her guess. She feels a sliver of disappointment when 9:24 blinks back at her (usually her morning time predictions are off by five to seven minutes at the most), but the disappointment quickly shifts to intrigue when she finds a note from Mark on top of a wooden jewelry box with a hand-carved floral design.
Addison – not five questions, but five things for our fifth anniversary. Kate wrote the numbers, FYI.

Gift #1, as you can see, is a wooden jewelry box. Kate helped me pick it out. Conveniently, if you don't have room for it in our bedroom, Kate said she would be happy to keep it in her room for you. I think we both know that her offer is not entirely a selfless one. Gifts 2 - 5 are inside the box.

Addison takes the box into her hands and carefully opens it, revealing a cardboard jewelry box, a piece of paper folded in quarters, and some sort of card sleeve, each item with a corresponding number. She smiles, because she can definitely tell her daughter wrote the numbers. Kate recently asked why there are cursive letters, but not cursive numbers, to which her parents had no answer. They have been firm with her about being sure to write numbers the "regular way" at school, but outside the classroom, any numbers Kate writes end up having little swirls and loops at the end of their lines.

She opens the small box labeled with a 2 to find a dainty necklace with a garnet stone, and a note from Mark folded impossibly small behind the necklace. Garnet is the birthstone for January. It's meant to match the diamond one I gave you after Kate was born, but the chain is a little longer, so you can wear them both at the same time if you want. I know I'm gambling on this one since Henry's due date is the 28th, but I'm a risk-taker. And if I'm wrong, you'll get some amethyst jewelry at a later date.

Addison then unfolds the paper with a purple-marker 3 to find a printed photo of an ocean-themed milestone blanket, and a note from Mark beneath the picture. #3. Monthly milestone blanket I ordered for Henry. Kate helped me pick this one. We did this monthly picture thing with Kate too, and she felt very strongly that Henry should have his own blanket for this rather than reuse hers (again, the pretend selflessness). Also, I didn't write a note for gifts 4 and 5, because it didn't feel like they require an explanation.

She ultimately agrees that gifts four and five, though wonderful, are pretty self-explanatory. The fourth gift is a gold bar bracelet engraved with Kate Henry on it. Her stupid pregnancy hormones create tension in the back of her throat as she attempts to ward off tears. And then she slips an appointment card out of the card holder for gift #5 to discover she has a prenatal massage scheduled for this afternoon at the hotel spa, and this definitely leads to a few tears, because honestly nothing sounds more amazing than a massage right now.

"Hey," Mark greets a few minutes later when he comes out of the bathroom. Addison's watery eyes are gone by this point, and all that is left is a happy smile that she flashes in his direction.

"Hey," she replies. "I opened my gifts. You're a really good husband, you know. And right now I'm feeling good and if I'm still feeling good after my massage, I'll show you how appreciative I am."

"In a wood sort of way?"

"In a wood sort of way."

-

Addison feels grateful that she started her maternity leave the same day Kate starts her winter break. She is very much looking forward to the extra time with her daughter, those last tender moments of just them, just mother and daughter, before they become a family of four in the New Year.

The last five years with Kate have been more beautiful and magical than Addison could have ever thought possible, but at the moment, she would love this time together a bit more if Kate's main idea of fun on the first morning of winter break did not include playing in the snow (something Addison would normally love, but trying to assist in building a backyard snowman at thirty-four weeks is no easy feat). Luckily, Kate's interest in snowman-building, snow angels, throwing snowballs at the fence, and "coloring" the snow (spray bottles and food coloring) does not extend beyond an hour.

"Thank you." Kate smiles cheerfully when Addison sets down a hot chocolate for each of them on the coffee table, with loads of whipped cream (the can of whipped cream bottle is also brought to the table for refill purposes). Addison watches as her daughter goes back to coloring, because Kate knows (and has learned the hard way more than once) that she has to wait a bit before taking her first sip, or she will burn her tongue.

"Mommy?" Kate says. "Can I tell you a secret?"

"Yes." Addison smiles, thoroughly amused (but not surprised) that Kate wants to say it into her ear, even though it is just the two of them at home. She pats the cushion beside her when Kate wanders over to the sofa.

"You're my best friend," Kate whispers, cupping her hand around Addison's ear as she shares these sweet words.

"Oh, Kate." Addison adjusts her daughter in her arms, easing her into her lap for a warm hug. "You're my best friend too, sweet girl."

Kate reaches a hand to her mother's face. Her fingers touch a shiny teardrop. "Mommy, why are you crying? Are you sad again?"

"No," Addison says quickly. She offers a smile to reassure her daughter. Hormones are just the worst. "These are happy tears. Sometimes people cry happy tears. Especially mommies who have really great daughters."

"Oh. Mommy?" Kate rests a hand on her stomach. "Can we still be best friends when Hen-Hen comes?" Hen-Hen. They told Kate their plans to name the baby Henry. It has sparked in Kate the desire to refer to him not just as Henry and Baby Henry, but by a variety of nicknames she has thought up as well. Hen-Hen. Hen. Hens. Henny. Hennybear. Chicken Nugget Hen. Addison cannot imagine that an older Henry will like any of these names.

"Of course we can. We will be." She watches her daughter's eyes drift to the waiting hot chocolate, likely cool enough by now, and loosens her arms so Kate can crawl out of her lap.

Addison doesn't doubt her daughter's sincerity in proclaiming her mother her best friend (even though Kate's number one best friend can change on a dime at this age), but she knows this secret was shared in part because of this exact concern, even if it is more of a subconscious one on Kate's part.

"Hey, Kate," she adds. "I know things will be a little different when Henry comes because babies need a lot of attention, especially at first, but I promise you and I will still be besties, and we will still get to do special things just the two of us. And I'll love you as much as I love you right now. When you're a parent, your heart sort of grows when you have another baby…so I will love you and Henry the exact same. And you're going to be such a great big sister. I can't wait for you to meet Henry and play with him and help me take care of him."

Kate smiles, using the back of her hand to smudge off a spot of whipped cream on the tip of her nose. "Do I have to change poop diapers?"

"Nope," Addison laughs. "You don't even have to change pee diapers if you don't want."

"I don't really want to," Kate says. She pauses, and then a sneaky grin crosses over her face. "Mommy? We should make Daddy change all the diapers."

"I like that idea. Remember to tell him that at dinner tonight."

-