Chapter 55. Light Up, Light Up

"Okay…this is just stupid cute," Mark says as he reaches for another item in the pile of clothes Addison has set aside for Henry. He holds up the yellow and white striped rash guard to show her…as if his wife wasn't the one to purchase the swimsuit earlier in the week and the one to set it down on their bed just now while they work on getting everyone packed.

"Right?" Addison smiles indulgently. "Henry is going to look like a little ball of sunshine. And I found that floppy hat Kate used to wear as a baby in the back of one of her drawers, which is perfect for the Cape. It's in Henry's room now; I'll remember to grab it next time he's awake."

Addison wishes they had gotten to packing a bit earlier than the night before they leave to be one more family of Manhattanites escaping to the coast for the Fourth of July, but a little thing called "parenting" has kept them busy. She isn't too stressed though about the last minute-ness. She has felt good lately. And relaxed, or at least as relaxed as one can be with a six-year-old and a five month old.

Mark nods. "Floppy hats are cute on babies." Addison rolls her eyes in response, having not missed the pointedness of her husband's comment.

"They are, but I imagine that's also your passive way of bringing up that bucket hat of mine you don't like? I've worn it like twice, Mark."

"Twice was enough. I love you, and I love everything about you, but not…that hat. It looks like something a drunk or hungover fisherman would wear. All you need is a giant stain on your shirt and some baggy sweatpants to complete the look. The way I feel about that hat of yours is probably the way you feel about me packing."

Addison agrees wholeheartedly with this comparison. "I don't understand how you can be this slow. All you need to do is take that stack for Henry and place it in the suitcase. We're leaving for Cape Cod in, oh, twelve hours. Do you think you'll be done by then?"

"I have a system, Red. And you know, there are some things that I do slowly that you actually like…I'd be happy to remind you of the specifics of those things once we're done here."

"Whenever that is. But…speaking of packing. I…I was thinking I'd like to do something special with Kate next month – like a mother-daughter thing. I wanted to do it for her birthday since her spring recess was around the same time, but…" Addison trails off with a limp shrug, since she does not really need to finish the statement for Mark's benefit. The shame of having struggled mentally throughout the winter and spring is not as prevalent now, but it is still overwhelming to talk about and to have to recap sometimes. She goes to therapy twice a month now rather than weekly, but it's still just A Lot emotionally when it comes to sharing. "I was thinking about taking Kate to Paris for a few days. It's not a guilt thing, like it's not about the fact that this initially wasn't the easiest year for her…I always imagined doing something like this with her when she was old enough to remember it, but young enough to still want to spend time with her mom. Same with Henry one day. I know that it's a bit…well. It's kind of excessive, right? A mother-daughter trip to Europe with a six year-old?"

Mark shakes his head while carefully positioning a Yankees romper he has rolled in the suitcase designated for their son. "I mean, it's not not excessive, but you know Kate will love it and she'll be so excited to do something like this with you," he says. "We can't really help the fact that we both come from money…you especially. But we're decent people and we work hard, so we might as well have some fun. It's not like we never to give to charity or something."

Addison raises a mocking eyebrow. "What organizations do we donate to, Mark?"

"Hell if I know. But I know you do on our behalf. Plus, come on: think about some of the kids in Kate's class and what they're probably doing this summer. And I like those kids, except for that little shit who pulled Kate's ponytail one time -"

"Asher Hammond. At a birthday party. And Kate pushed him back, remember? She might have done more than that, too, if I hadn't tugged her away. Also, they're fine now. The only one hanging on to that memory is you."

"Would have served him right if Kate did more than just pushed him," Mark grumbles. "Anyway, sorry. My point is that a few days in Paris is probably modest in comparison to what some NYC private school kids have on schedule for the summer."

"Would you be okay with having Henry solo for a few days though? Lauren hasn't said anything about needing time off next month – I was thinking mid-August for Paris – but I don't -"

"Yeah, of course. I can take a few days off, too. The boy and I will do some manly bonding. Oh. Hey…" Mark's expression shifts to one of concern when he notices Addison's hands pinch around their comforter. She angles her face away from him, but not before he sees her eyes grow shiny with tears. "Why are you about to cry? C'mere."

"Because…" she whimpers, lips pulling apart and quivering as Mark moves forward to slide his arms around her. "Because I'm thinking about leaving Henry next month and I already miss him. I'm crying because I'm going to miss Henry. And I didn't…I didn't…last winter I wouldn't have felt this way. About anything…but especially about my sweet baby boy. So I'm happy and sad and mostly relieved. It's just…a lot of feelings."

"I get it," Mark says quietly. "I'm just going to hug you while you feel your feelings then. Tell me if you need anything."

She sniffles into his shoulder. "Besides stronger tear ducts?"

"You're fine. It's okay to cry. What is it Kate says about crying?"

"We cry because we're real. I just happen to be very, very real."

Mark touches his nose to her cheek. "I'm glad you're real, Addison."

"Cheesy."

"Yep. Deal with it."

"Th-thank you," Addison responds once the tears have stopped and she feels steadier. Mark loosens his arms and drops them to her hips, giving her the opportunity to take a step back. "And I'll miss you too when I'm out of the country, for the record." She wipes at her eyes.

"I figured you might. So you're okay?"

"Yeah." She shows him a smile. "Much better. Thanks for being on board with this. I'll bring some stuff back for you and Hennybug. Food, obviously – I just gained five pounds thinking about all the pastries. I'll also grab a few Parisian outfits for Henry that he won't care about at all, and some sort of overpriced toy set. And what about you?" Addison leans up to press her lips to his, taking her time with a long and slow kiss. "What should I bring back as a souvenir for you?"

"A French maid costume." Mark catches her before she can pull away, and uses a hand to scrape her hair over one shoulder, exposing her neck. His mouth moves against the soft skin under her jaw, leaving a series of kisses. "For you to wear. Not me, obviously."

"Yeah. That's not happening."

"This isn't happening?" Mark says, voice low and gravelly as his lips play over her neck. He changes course suddenly, burying a warm kiss in the dip of her throat. He grins when he hears Addison's wobbly inhale – an attempt to not make noise, especially in the middle of bantering, when who will end up on top (verbally) is at stake. Mark isn't quite ready to concede yet though. His hands are grasping the back of her toned thighs now, so he moves his palms up and down against her silk pajama bottoms a few times, grinning wider when he succeeds in drawing a lazy groan out of her. "Or the French maid thing isn't happening?"

"Both." Addison takes a deliberately large step backwards, not entirely trusting herself to keep the conversation going and be on top (again, verbally) if she doesn't extract herself from his embrace. "Nothing is happening between us tonight though until you finish packing…and the thing that involves me wearing a skimpy outfit and carrying around a feather duster is just not happening, period."

Mark smirks. "I mean. It could."

"But it won't. I hope you like destination fridge magnets."

"…I kind of do, actually. Can I say one more thing though?"

"I'd prefer if you didn't…" Addison says with an amused look. "But I know that never stops you. Then it's right back to packing, mister."

"I'm just gonna remind you…Halloween is only a few months away."

"Still not happening, Mark."


Addison sways gently in the rocking chair with Henry, ushering him towards sleep as she tries to soak this time in; she and Kate leave for Paris tomorrow night. She thinks she will remember for the rest of her life how Kate's blue eyes widened when she told her they were going to go to Paris: "Mommy!" Kate had shrieked. "That's where Madeline is from! In the books."

She focuses on her son now, who will be seven months old next week. The moments and memories with Henry so far are no less significant, but just…smaller. They have to be smaller – he is a baby and Kate is a child, after all. Kate made her a mother, but Addison thinks in some ways that Henry has taught her how to be a mother, maybe even how to be more human. She has worked very, very hard with her therapist to process her depression, anxiety, and a myriad of other emotions she has either judged herself for feeling or not feeling. Guilt has been a big one, though. Renee has reminded her more than once that Kate was nearing six when Henry was born, so Addison has had years to bond with her daughter, and time to bond with Kate as a person, not just as a baby. Her deep emotional attachment to Kate has only grown over the years, so the fact that what Addison felt for Henry didn't rise to That Level when her son was first born…that's okay. That doesn't make her a bad person or a bad mother. And Renee – and everyone else who offered similar reassurance along the way – was right. It was gradual rather than an instantaneous lightning bolt of attachment, but once it happened, it happened. And now Addison cannot imagine life without her son. Her heart has expanded to include Henry, and she has stopped trying to measure and quantify love. She just knows that she loves her son.

Henry is by all accounts an "easy baby," but at bedtime the inevitably inherited Montgomery and Sloan stubbornness kicks up a notch. He won't fall asleep lately unless his body is curled tightly against Addison's stomach and his head is on her chest (or Mark's, because at least he isn't picky about the caregiver). Kate liked to fall asleep as a baby in a cradle hold, hazily blinking up at her mother, which Addison adored, but she thinks that maybe she likes this position a little better. From this angle, she can't really see Henry's sweet face as he's drifting off, but there is something to be said for the content, drowsy little sighs her son releases whenever she cuddles him closer, and the way one of his hands moves over her chest and collarbone.

"I'll miss you every second of every day that I'm gone, Hennybug," Addison whispers, stroking the fine golden brown fuzz on the back of Henry's head. "You think about where you want to go someday, and when you're five or six, you and I will do a special trip together. I'm not sure yet what you'll like. I know right now you like Tigger, but a trip to the Hundred Acre Wood just probably isn't in the cards for us, kiddo. I know you also love to eat though. Maybe we'll do Italy and go to town on pasta."


Addison can hear faint rustling on the hotel bed next to her, but she keeps her eyes closed for now. For whatever reason, her mind jumps to making a guess at New York time first, rather than her current time zone. Probably a little after midnight there, she thinks. I bet Mark caved and Henry is sleeping with him. The latter thought makes her happy. She will ask later about the caving. Their last exchange yesterday was a picture Addison texted Mark of the two redheads in front of the Eiffel Tower. Or three redheads, technically. Kate was clutching her Madeline doll in the picture.

She mentally runs through the very loose plan for the morning – room service for breakfast (honestly, possibly the highlight of the trip so far for Kate), and then the Luxembourg Gardens (Jardin du Luxembourg, the left side of her brain corrects), because Kate will go crazy over the playground, carousel, and little boats (the gardens and the palace itself, probably less so). Lunch somewhere, maybe at the café they went to yesterday. Shopping at some point. Then maybe one of the more kid-friendly museums she's looked into. Maybe. Addison will wait and see what Kate thinks – her daughter is a good little travel companion, but she definitely has opinions. There has been some structure and organization to the trip, but not a lot. She has embraced Ideas more than Plans for this trip. And it's working out wonderfully.

The rustling sound tips up in volume, followed by a crunch, and Addison smiles, knowing exactly what is going on. It's going to be a rough adjustment for Kate (and her, too), when they are back home and there aren't boxes of treats on the nightstand. She waits until the remaining crunches are finished before she opens her eyes. A malt-splashed morning sky of the 7th arrondissement is visible out the window behind her daughter's head.

"Hi, early bird," Addison says, thoroughly amused as Kate quickly angles herself away from the bakery box and wiggles around to face her. "Whatcha doing?"

"Mommy, you are an early bird, too." Kate smiles sheepishly when her mother is not in any way distracted by this proclamation, and merely raises an eyebrow, waiting for her question to be answered. "I was going to wake you up…" Kate scoots back over to Addison's side of the bed. "To ask you if I could have a Macaron before we have breakfast."

"Mm-hmm." Addison moves her thumb along the corner of her daughter's mouth. "You missed a crumb on your face. A red crumb…like red velvet. I think you already did have a Macaron, sneaky girl."

"I just had one," Kate replies with a raspy giggle. "Not red velvet though – I had one of the raspberry ones. But there are still lots of colors in there still." This has been an ongoing joke. Addison has told her daughter that she is certain she will open this box at some point and only the pistachio cookie will be left, due to Kate's automatic distrust of green food. Never mind the fact that pistachios are not vegetables.

"I'm sure. We'll definitely get more before we leave though. And this time we'll just pick out the ones we want rather than asking for a random assortment…that way no pistachios end up coming back to New York with us. I bet your dad will like the chocolate ones best. And, just like you, he won't even want to try the green kind."

Kate flops down next to her, and Addison shifts her pillow over so they can share it. "Hey, Mommy? For Halloween can Henry be a Dalmatian?"

"Oh," Addison grins. "Sure. That's a cute idea. You can help me pick out his puppy costume when it gets a little closer to Halloween." Between you and your father, she thinks. Already talking about Halloween.

"I want him to be a Dalmatian because I want to be a firefighter."

"A firefighter – I love that," Addison says, working to keep the surprise out of her tone, because this wouldn't have even been in her top twenty costume guesses for her daughter. "You'll both look so good, Kate."

"What are you going to be? A witch again?" Kate asks. Her mommy doesn't really dress up for Halloween, but she will usually throw on a witch hat for when they go trick-or-treating. A witch who will eat any Butterfinger bars Kate gets, because she doesn't really like those ones.

Anything except what your father wants me to wear.

"Yes," Addison smirks. "A very evil, spooky witch."

Kate shakes her head. "I want you to be a nice witch."

"I guess I can do that. Hey…can we sleep a bit more? Or you can play on the iPad if you want. I need to stay in bed for just thirty more minutes. Then we'll go out and have another fun day."

"I'm going to sleep more, too," Kate announces. "And also stay in bed, unless I have to go pee," she adds. "Then I'll get up."

"Makes sense. Good plan."

Addison makes a movement to reach a hand out to play with Kate's hair, knowing that her daughter's request to do the hair thing is inevitable. Before she can though, Kate rests her palm on Addison's cheek. "I love you, Mommy," her daughter says softly.

Some days Addison wonders how she managed this, if it is nature, nurture, or just pure magic that her Ordinary and Mark's Ordinary came together and created something – someone – extraordinary: a little girl who, among many wonderful things, loves easily and shares her heart so often.

Addison takes the hand on her cheek and cradles it in her own in order to kiss each tiny knuckle. "I love you too, sweet girl."

"Mommy, can you -"

"I can do the hair thing."

Mommy. It is the beginning and end of so many of Kate's sentences, and Addison knows that one day she will be wistful for this stage in her daughter's life, for this particular quirk. She is often tired, and sometimes still anxious and sad, but she never gets tired of hearing that word, the sing-song trill of two syllables that define so much of who she is, that reveal the chances and choices that have guided her through the past decade. All of this – Mark, Kate, Henry – everything started with a chance. Around this time seven years ago, she found herself newly pregnant after having blown up her marriage. She took a chance and moved into Mark's apartment. She and Mark embraced another scary, staggering chance by deciding to have a baby. And then this little girl made them a family the following spring, on a rainy, mist-sheathed day.

Addison doesn't often think about the if-and-then of it all, how easily there could have been different outcomes, because it doesn't serve much purpose; she loves the life she and Mark have created.

She kisses the freckled slope of Kate's nose when she notices the adjustment in her daughter's breathing, indicating she has fallen asleep. She cuddles Kate – a chance she saw all the way through – closer, feeling her long, even breaths whisper against her chest, feather light. The peaceful rhythm lulls her back to sleep.


Bands of sunlight slip through thin, rolling clouds on the first Saturday in early November. Mark watches how the light tinges the crown of his daughter's head, making her red hair glow even more prominently as she collects more veined, dried leaves and brings them over to Mark and Henry. Kate is already wearing her soccer uniform, even though her game isn't for several hours. She is currently fixated on a different game this morning though. She is making autumn leaves scattered throughout their backyard crackle "like Rice Krispies" beneath her feet, but is also bringing some of the leaves over to share with her brother, who is snuggled in Mark's lap. Henry giggles each time Kate crushes a leaf in her fist close enough for him to see and hear, and Mark suddenly remembers one of the things Addison said right before Henry was born, when Mark was playing their "Five Questions" game with her in an attempt to get her to relax: Henry will laugh the most for his sister. And it's definitely true.

Addison got home from work late last night. Mark has handled everything this morning so she can sleep in. Her time away from the hospital – first for maternity leave and then, ultimately, a leave of absence – totaled almost nine months. She has liked being back at work and is even happy about it, but it's definitely been an adjustment. And today, Mark knows, will be really hard. It is the one-year anniversary of her father's passing.

"Don't crush the orange ones," Kate tells Mark when he reaches for a leaf to hand to Henry. "Only the red, yellow, and brown-dead ones. Orange is Henry's favorite color."

"He told you that?" Mark jokes. Kate smiles at him, but Mark isn't always certain when he says things like this if she knows he is teasing her, or if she honestly does think he is stupid, just in a lovable way. Both, he is certain his wife would say. "I'm just teasing. I know he hasn't said any words yet. How do you know orange is his favorite color though?"

Kate answers in a way that leaves no room for argument: "I just know."

Mark changes direction in order to reach for a non-orange leaf, but glances up when he hears one of the doors leading to the backyard being pushed open. Henry hears it too, and when he sees his mother, he flashes her a wide smile, revealing a few pearly baby teeth.

"Hi, little love." Addison comes out to sit next to Mark in the empty patio chair he has set beside his. She's made some effort to make her face presentable, but is still in her pajamas and Uggs, covered with a warm robe. She takes Henry into her arms, and briefly presses her lips to Mark's during the transfer. "Good morning. Thanks for letting me sleep in."

"You're welcome," he says softly. "I'm glad…I'm glad you're up."

She nods, resting her chin on Henry's head as he babbles away. "Me too. Hi, Kate," she says a little louder to get her daughter's attention.

"Hi, Mommy," Kate calls out brightly from the other side of the yard. "Mommy? Did you know this is Henry's first time seeing this many leaves on the ground? He wasn't here last November, so he's never even seen leaves like this before."

It makes Addison's throat tighten. Henry wasn't here last November.

But her dad was. And then wasn't.

She feels Mark guide an arm over her shoulders, clearly able to follow her train of thought even though the words haven't been said out loud. "You can stay home today, if you want," he offers. "I can take Henry to Kate's game. The Lightning Bugs will be okay in your absence."

Addison shakes her head. "No, it's fine. I want to go. Thank you though, for the offer. I'm just going to need a really, really long hug from you later. Probably more than one – especially after I call my mom. And you'll probably need to remind me to take slow breaths sometimes."

"You got it. Love you, Red."

"I love you, too. All three of you." She holds her son a little tighter.

She cried so hard and for so long when Mark told her that her dad had died. She worked herself into a frenzy that evening, hyperventilating, and was only able to settle herself after Mark reminded her that her son – still inside her – needed oxygen. So she breathed. She breathed for Henry. How could she not? She loved him then, as she loves him now. But that period was hard in some ways. Henry was wanted from the beginning, and perhaps wanted even more after her dad passed. Death was going to usher in new life and all that. The birth of her son was something to look forward to. But Addison also can't deny that grieving while pregnant was hard. Her body didn't just belong to her while she was initially coping with the loss of her dad. She still had to eat. She still had to stay hydrated. She had to move and take care of herself and toss back her prenatal vitamins. It was like Addison never got to be alone, which made mild resentment start to brew underneath the anticipation of getting to meet her Hennybug. It took four months of therapy for this breakthrough to surface. And another two weeks after that before Addison felt comfortable enough to share the complexity of these feelings with her husband.

She breathed for Henry the night her father died.

Henry reaches a hand up to touch her face. Addison smiles as his little fingers move along her bottom lip. She pretends to eat them, which makes Henry throw his head back and belly laugh. He is a magical little boy; he is an all-consuming wonder who triggers her heart to beat a little faster when she so much as thinks about him. He makes life worth living.

Addison still breathes for Henry. Just in a different way.

For all three of her loved ones, really.