A/N: I hope you're all staying safe and well! I really appreciate your very kind feedback on the last chapter and on this story so far. Here's the newest chapter; I hope you like it. As always, thanks so much for reading and reviewing! And Happy early Thanksgiving to those who celebrate—in whatever capacity you're celebrating.

She needs to relax. Her mind is running a mile a minute, and she needs to calm down.

But she can't.

She's exactly where she wants to be—in her bedroom with Derek, his arms wrapped around her.

It's exactly what she wants ... except it isn't.

She wants to relax in his arms. She wants to fall asleep in his arms. But she won't let herself. Because the sooner she falls asleep, the sooner she wakes up. And when she wakes up, it'll be tomorrow, and Derek will be leaving.

So she's trying to memorize this moment. The way his arms feel around her. The way his body feels pressed up against hers. His calm, rhythmic breathing, his—

"Addison?"

She turns in his arms in surprise. "How did you know I was awake?"

"Because ..." he murmurs sleepily.

He doesn't complete the sentence, and he doesn't need to.

That one word—because—speaks volumes.

Because this isn't the first time that we've fallen asleep together.

Because I've spent nearly a third of my life holding you while we fell asleep.

Because I know how your body feels when you're awake and when you're asleep.

Because I know your mind is racing right now and it's keeping you awake.

Because I know you.

"Addison?"

"Yeah?"

"Before ... I mean, earlier tonight ... in the car ... I ... we didn't use protection."

"Birth control," she murmurs.

Not to mention the earth-shattering news she received from Naomi that she can't have kids.

"Oh," Derek says quietly.

The air feels heavy. She wants to say something to break the palpable silence. But what is there really for her to say?

"I was thinking," Derek continues after another beat of silence. "It wouldn't be the worst thing ... if something were to happen. We always wanted kids."

She can feel the tears pooling in her eyes; the back of her throat stinging. Where was this three years ago? Two years ago, even? Hell, even last year?

She's spent the majority of her adult life wanting kids with Derek. He's the only person she ever imagined herself having kids with. Where does he get off saying something like that to her now?

They're divorced. He's moving on. She's trying to move on. What is he thinking making that type of comment to her right now? It's very wrong and very uncalled for.

She's prepared to tell him as much. Except she doesn't.

Apparently, she can't.

Instead, she finds herself nodding in agreement. "Yeah," she chokes out, her voice thick with emotion. "It wouldn't be the worst thing."

It's the last thing she should be saying to him. She knows that.

She also knows it's going to take many nights—and many glasses of wine—back in California to get over this conversation.

But when he wraps his arms around her more securely and snuggles closer, she decides that whatever she has to deal with in California is worth it.

For the first time in a long time, they're on the same page.

For the first time in a long time, they're communicating. Sure, it's too little, too late; she knows that.

But, tonight, she decides it doesn't matter. He's leaving tomorrow, and reality will set back in. So, she's going to enjoy tonight—and this reality—where she can pretend that things are the way they were and that she and Derek are the people they used to be.

"I always wanted to come back here with kids," Derek murmurs.

And all Addison can do is nod mutely in darkness, pressing her lips together firmly to keep the tears that are stinging her eyes at bay.

"I imagined teaching them to swim in our pool," Derek continues. "And walking on the beach, collecting rocks and shells."

Addison doesn't need to see his face to know he's smiling.

"And camping out in the backyard?" she whispers.

"Yeah," he nods. "You'd be against it," he continues with a chuckle. "But you can't have backyard campouts in Manhattan. You can't see the stars there the way you can out here. So, you'd give in and join us."

"And all this time I thought you hated the Hamptons," she mutters half laughing, half crying.

The picture Derek is painting is undeniably idyllic, and she's not sure she can handle it. She needed to change to topic—and fast.

"I don't hate the Hamptons," Derek insists. "You know I don't, Addie. Towards the end I just ... I just said I did so I could spend more time working. But I don't hate the Hamptons. I never did."

"I know that," she whispers.

"I know you know that," he whispers back. "And, um, Addison?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry for all those weekends I chose being at work over being here with you. I'm sorry for Seattle ... and pretending that you and everything we had didn't exist or didn't matter. I'm sorry for—"

"Derek."

"Yeah?"

"You don't need to do this"

"But—"

"You're leaving tomorrow, Derek," she murmurs, kissing him softly. "Let's enjoy tonight."

xxxxx

Let's enjoy tonight. He can't help wondering if that's her version of Not now, Addison.

It's less cutting, but it effectively does the same thing. It shuts down conversation.

Admittedly, he was happy to oblige, and the kiss she silenced him with escalated quickly. Needless to say, they both enjoyed.

Now, as they lay together in bed, still breathing heavily, he can't help hearing her words playing over and over in his head, as if on repeat.

Let's enjoy tonight.

It's all they have left. Except ...

"I could extend my stay," he breathes, the words escaping his mouth before his brain has time to process them.

She turns to look at him in surprise. "You shouldn't do that."

"Why not?"

"Because."

"Because why?"

"Because everyone's leaving tomorrow. Savvy and Weiss are going back to the city tomorrow evening. Nancy and John are leaving tomorrow afternoon. Everyone will be gone."

"Not everyone," Derek points out.

"I'm pretty sure you saw more than enough of me this weekend, Derek."

He did see a lot of her this weekend. And not a lot of anyone else.

And yet it's not Savvy and Weiss or Nancy and John that he wants to extend his stay in New York for.

"You should go back to Seattle, Derek," Addison says firmly. "I'll stay, you go."

He swallows roughly at that. It's the opposite of what he said to her the last time they were in New York together—the night he caught her and Mark together.

You stay, I'll go.

And then he hightailed it to Seattle and never came back.

He's tempted to fight her on this. He's tempted to insist upon staying longer. But she seems resolute ... unyielding.

He knows from spending the weekend with her that the past year has been anything but easy on her. And he's now able to acknowledge that he played a role in this. The last thing he wants to do is make things harder on her.

Still ...

"Maybe we can meet up the next time I'm in LA."

She raises an eyebrow in surprise. "Do you visit LA often?"

"Well ... no," he admits. "But, um ... Sam and Naomi. They live there. It's been a while since I last saw them. I'd like to see them."

"Just them?" she asks quietly.

"No," he whispers. "Not just them."

"Oh."

He doesn't need to see her face to know she's smiling.

"Well, if you do come to LA to see Sam and Naomi," she begins, her tone light, "I hope you spend more time with them than you spent with Savvy and Weiss this weekend."

He can't help laughing and neither can she, and it feels so much like old times it physically hurts.

He's tempted to, once again, offer to stay in New York longer. But he knows her, and he knows she'll say no.

So he doesn't offer.

He's growing tired. He's drifting off to sleep when ...

"Truth or dare, Derek?"

"What?"

"Truth or dare?"

"Truth."

"Okay," she whispers, turning in his arms so she's facing him. "Are you happy you came here this weekend?"

"Addison."

"Are you?"

"I'm happy I came here," Derek whispers back. "I only wish I could stay longer."

I dare you to stay here longer.

It's the dare he wishes she'd give him. It's a dare she never would give him.

"Truth or dare, Addison?"

"Truth."

"You should leave LA."

"That's not a truth, Derek."

"Yes, it is."

"No, it's not."

"It absolutely is a truth, Addison."

"But it's not a question, Derek."

"Yeah, but—"

"But you have to ask a question. That's how you play truth or dare."

"Fine," Derek sighs. "Then ... will you at least consider leaving LA?"

"The truth?"

"Yeah."

"No," she shakes her head. "I'm not leaving LA."

"But why?"

"Because my life is there now. And I need something stable. I need a place to call home."

"And LA's home?" Derek challenges.

"It's ..." Addison trails off as she runs a hand through her tousled hair. "It's good enough."

When did you ever settle for good enough?

That's the truth or dare question he wants to ask her. But he knows it'll make her angry.

And they have mere hours together. And he wants to spend those mere hours on good terms with her.

"I wish you'd move back to New York, Addie."

"Well," she shrugs, "you no longer get a say in those types of things."

"No," he sighs as he absentmindedly plays with her hair. "I guess I don't."

It's an exchange he can only describe as sad. And the sadness is palpable. He feels it. He knows she feels it.

"Um, Derek," she chokes out, her voice hoarse.

"Yeah?"

"I just thought you should know ... I mean, I want you to know ... I'm really glad you came out here this weekend."

"Yeah?" he asks, a small smile forming on his face.

"Yeah," she whispers. "I, um ... I actually didn't think you were going to show up. But I'm glad you did."

He nods mutely at that. In all honesty, he'd contemplated not going. And per Weiss' demands, he almost left the first day.

But he's glad he came out here. And he's glad he stayed.

"It was a nice weekend," Derek says quietly.

"It was," Addison agrees. "Weiss seemed very happy."

Addison's not wrong. Weiss was undeniably happy this weekend. But Derek would be lying if he said Weiss was the only one. Derek can't remember the last time he felt as relaxed—and as at home—as he did this weekend. And Addison played no small part in that.

He wants to tell her this. But he knows that'll just complicate things further. And Addison isn't looking for complicated. She's made that abundantly clear.

And even if he doesn't agree with her, he's going to respect her wishes.

So, he doesn't say anything. He keeps things simple (or so he thinks) and wraps his arm around her securely, bringing her in close.

"Goodnight, Addison," he whispers. "Sleep well."

xxxxx

Sleep well. Is he joking?

At this rate, she'll be lucky if she sleeps at all.

It's taken every last ounce of her willpower not to pounce at Derek's offer to extend his stay.

"I'll cancel my lunch plans with Lizzie." That's what she's tempted to say. "We could spend the day together. Maybe we could both extend our time out here another couple of days."

It's so tempting. But she knows better.

She's already done a lot of things with Derek this weekend that she swore, coming into this weekend, she wouldn't do. And moving past this weekend is going to be tough—this much she knows.

But she can compartmentalize this weekend—as a couple of days where things between her and Derek were the way they used to be ... as a weekend where they had the conversations that they never got to have ... as a chance to get the closure they never got to get.

(Admittedly, that last one's a stretch, and she knows it.)

But if they extend what they're doing past this weekend, it'll be impossible for her to compartmentalize it. To write it off as a weekend away.

If they both extend their time together, it becomes a deliberate choice. It becomes something she can't blame on Savvy and Weiss or the circumstances of them being back in New York together.

If they extend their time together, she's asking for hurt and heartache.

She feels Derek's body growing heavy against hers. She hears his rhythmic breathing.

So she tries to follow suit and fall asleep as well.

But her mind is racing.

So she does the only thing she can think of to quiet it. She allows herself to think about something Derek said earlier—I always wanted to come back here with kids.

It's a pretty picture. Teaching their kids to swim in their pool, walking along the beach as a family, summertime barbeques on the patio. And the only thing they'd argue about is whether she'd give in and camp outside with him and their children.

But what kind of argument is that anyway?

Of course, she'd give in and sleep outside with her family. For Derek and their kids, she'd even sleep on the ground.

And with those thoughts running through her mind, wrapped in the arms of her ex-husband, she finally gives in and falls asleep.