A/N: Title is a lyric from "Wait For Now/Leave The World" by the Cinematic Orchestra (feat. Tawiah). Rounding things out with a little over 21K words…you know, a very normal thing. And there's also a much longer author's note at the end. Thanks for reading, and I hope you like how things wrap up!
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Chapter 55. Where We Could Go, When You Take the Leap
"Use your words, if there's something you want help with." Mark studies Ruby carefully, and refrains from offering a hand while his daughter quietly, and expectantly, holds out a paper cup that contains what is left of a scraped-through scoop of ice cream.
"Can you hold this for me…?" Ruby asks. There is a gap that precedes the accompanying please, and for Mark, this is either because Ruby's sole focus is getting someone to take her cup so she can scramble unburdened onto the Alice in Wonderland statue, or she is just being slightly defiant. Like many things when it comes to raising their second born – and when it comes to life in general, Mark considers, as he accepts the cup – it could be more than one thing. "Don't throw it away. I still want the puddle," Ruby adds in reference to the melted ice cream gathered at the bottom of the cup. She extends a now-free hand to Theo next. "C'mon, Free-oh. Come play with me."
The two families met this evening at an ice cream shop near Madison and East 74th, and then walked to the park so the kids could burn off some energy in the hopes of an easy, no-extra-steps-required bedtime. This seems most critical for the littlest member of the group, who will be boarding a seven AM flight back to Sea-Tac with his parents tomorrow.
"Kitty," Theo exclaims once Derek has positioned him on the largest mushroom. He points at the small cat in Alice's dress-covered lap.
"That's Dinah," Clara tells him. "Does he know the book?" She turns her attention to Derek and Meredith when she asks the question, and Addison cannot help but smile. It is a classic Clara inquiry. Ruby would have asked, Does he know the movie?
"Not yet," Meredith says. "We haven't read that one with him. One day we will."
Addison feels reflective as Clara calls out the names of the other bronzed characters for Theo, whether or not he is interested: Alice, the Mad Hatter, the Cheshire Cat, the Dormouse, and the White Rabbit. Would you tell me, please, which way I ought to go from here? briefly sweeps through Addison's head. Alice posed this question to the Cheshire Cat; she was not sure where she wanted to go, but she wanted to go somewhere. Things could not stay how they were. It was exactly a week ago that Addison had been standing in her living room, thinking about this passage, and this Central Park landmark, as she answered Derek's phone call. And she is so, so glad she answered, even though there is not really a scenario in which she would not have answered. Still though. Even still.
Cast in bronze. It is one of those random things she knows about, having been no stranger to works of art in her childhood home, and time spent during her preteen years wandering around a sculpture garden at a museum Bizzy is a patron of. She understands the revolutionizing history of bronze, its strength and fluidity, and the hammering and chiseling it takes to reach a certain level of durability. She knows bronze is formed from complex compositions. She knows that during the formation process, the core material is removed to prevent internal damage, and then cast from the mold to create the final piece. The right piece.
It is not unlike everything it has taken to get to this exact moment. To arrive at this moment, to bein this moment, and when the dusty pinks of sunset begin to settle over Central Park, to leave this moment.
"I don't…" Meredith's eyes are wide as she peers up at Addison. "We don't know how to thank you, because saying thank you just doesn't feel like it's enough. And neither does a succulent."
"Send me a picture after they're born." The words come easily. "And reach out anytime – you or your doctors – if questions come up."
"I also have a feeling there might be some FaceTime calls in our future." Meredith gestures to Theo. "He's not the chattiest little guy yet, but I'm sure he'd still love to see them virtually. We didn't…I mean, not bringing Theo wasn't an option for us, but now I'm especially glad we brought him, because of the girls. He started clapping when we were finishing up dinner and Derek told him we were going to see Clara and Ruby soon."
This makes Addison smile. "The girls practically did the same thing," she admits. And then her gaze falls on Derek.
"Thank you." He looks back at her with an expression that is blanketed in softness, and sincerity. "Like Meredith said…'thank you' doesn't cover everything you did to help us, even with future pictures and FaceTime calls. Seriously. Just…thank you for everything. Both of you." Derek glances at Mark now, and then Mark finds himself surprised – but also somehow not surprised – when Derek's arm floats out to him to shake hands. He was yours before he was mine, Mark can recall Addison sharing with him once.
"Don't be a stranger," Mark says croakily while his wife takes a step forward to share a hug with Derek. He can see the small, agreement-appearing nod Derek gives him, and then Mark accepts an embrace from Meredith, before she pulls away to offer Addison a longer, tighter hug.
Theo is compliant after Meredith tells him it is time to go bye-bye, and although Addison holds off for now, she really does want to ask Meredith and Derek if their son ever has tantrums, because it sure does not seem like it. And it is more than she can say about one of her own children at the moment, though it is certainly not a tantrum-qualifying reaction from Ruby. Just sad, whimper-like noises that spark a heaviness in Addison's chest as she witnesses her daughter attempt to grasp what is happening. The girls were previously told Derek, Meredith, and Theo are heading back to Seattle tomorrow, but now that the time to say goodbye has arrived, emotions have arrived with it. On Ruby's other side, Addison can see the pinching of Clara's face, like her own disappointment that the evening has come to an end is now masked by her confusion over this outburst of emotion from Ruby. It is not that Ruby does not feel things, or display those feelings, but she is generally not "a crier."
"Ruby…" Derek crouches in front of her before Addison can intervene to provide motherly comfort. "We'll visit again. And you'll come visit us sometime."
Ruby releases an incredulous sniffle. "Really?"
"Yeah. Friends visit friends when they can." Derek's eyes flicker toward Mark. He imparts a thin smile, and then scrutinizes Ruby again. She is rubbing at her eyes with balled-up fists. "And Seattle is a nice city. You'll like it. We have lots of fun things…like a science center, and an aquarium, and cool playgrounds. Theo loves the aquarium."
"Do you have pizza there?"
"We do." Derek shares another look with Mark. "Not as good as here…" his grin is an amused one. "But we have great seafood."
"I don't like seafood."
"Okay." Derek taps Ruby on the nose. "So no trout for you then. But we have good burgers, and I know you like burgers."
The farewells between the children take longer, with multiple hugs, and although Mark would love to just blame it on the close bond the three have developed, he is not blind to the reality: Clara and Ruby both want to be the last one to hug Theo. Thankfully, Addison also intuits this, and is able to gently maneuver the girls so they can hug Theo at the same time.
"I'm going to miss them," Clara remarks quietly as the three Seattleites head down the shaded pathway that will take them out of the park.
"We all will," Addison says. She directs both girls to throw away their cups, and then continues to observe Derek, Meredith, and Theo's silhouettes become smaller. Nothing was preventing them from leaving at the same time, since the Montgomery-Sloans have to walk the same route to get back to Fifth, but she urged Derek and Meredith to go ahead, explaining that they were going to give the girls a few more minutes to climb on the statue. Truthfully, Addison felt it would be easier on Clara and Ruby to do it this way (Ruby in particular, as things currently stand) rather than drag out the goodbye, but there is also something…poetic about this being what the departure looks like.
She remembers Mark assuring her, shortly after she had signed her divorce papers and in a break between her hard, grief-chopped sobs, that everything was going to be okay. And that, one day, "going to be" would no longer be included in the solitary thought that helped keep them afloat. And for all those days, for all those gradually days before the suddenly day, I'm going to wake up and love you each of those days.
And Addison has been loved each of those days. Each day, irrevocably and deeply loved.
Gradually and then suddenly. It has been so many things for her. How a marriage explodes. How you fall in love again, and when that happens, how your life – the map of all you knew – sails to an extraordinarily different place. How you get through a divorce. How you become a parent. How guilt begins to lessen. How you learn to hold space for more than one feeling. How you forgive yourself.
How you manage to build something out of the very wreckage that you caused.
And, maybe, it is also how people can return to your life, if they are meant to.
"But we'll visit sometime," Clara adds hopefully when she has returned from the trashcan, with Ruby – still teary-eyed – at her side. "Or they'll come visit us…but we should visit them first, because we've never been to Seattle."
"Maybe next summer when the babies are bigger. Roodles…" Addison lifts Ruby up and balances her on her hip. She knows she cannot do this for much longer, because it is too much strain on her back to cart around forty-plus pounds, but she cannot help it; both girls are her babies, but Ruby is her baby-baby. "Cheer up. We'll see them again." Addison tends to hedge away from making promises for things not within her realm of control, but she feels confident sharing this statement. Would you tell me, please, which way I ought to go from here? The response Alice received was, more or less, to continue to put one foot in front of the other. There is no way to know where you are going, sometimes. But just keep going. And do not close yourself off to any possibilities.
Mark lowers himself to the ground after Clara asks if she can have a piggyback ride (if Ruby isn't going to be walking, then neither is she). His eyes do not leave Derek's retreating figure though. He thinks of the last time he watched Derek walk away: almost seven years ago, after a painful interaction for all three parties, Derek had stalked out to Lexington and East 49th, working his way back to Seattle, but mostly, working his way away from them. Everything was too fresh and uncertain for Mark and Addison to consider the future in that moment, and if Mark is honest, he knows that at the time, he could not really comprehend the unbelievable capacity humans have to grow and heal and begin again. And, as one season transitions to the next, to sometimes find it in their hearts to forgive, or to at least move on from what once caused so much hurt.
This time, it is a completely different experience to see the departing figure of the man who was once his best friend, and is now his sort-of-something-friend. It is not Derek walking away this time. Not entirely, at least. It is more like…walking away for now. And, just before a curve in the path obscures the Shepherd family from view, Derek raises a hand in the air, and looks back as he offers one more farewell.
Mark transfers his gaze over to Addison. "Ready to go home?"
"Ready," she confirms with a warm smile.
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Five Years Earlier
"Just so we're clear…" Mark warns as Clara toddles back over to him with another seconds-from-crumbling cereal puff in her hand. He is sitting on the floor in front of the couch, and his daughter has spent the past several minutes dropping puffs one-by-one into the chest pocket of his blue suit. It is not exactly neat, or something he should encourage, but it has proven to be endlessly entertaining for Clara, and if nothing else, it is keeping her occupied while they wait for Addison to finish getting ready. "This is a 'you and me' thing. Under no circumstances are you allowed to try this with your mom's dress." He returns Clara's smile with an accommodating one of his own when she finagles another puff into the pocket.
"Yum…" Clara states pleasantly. It is a newer word for their thirteen-month-old – she started saying it earlier this month – and Mark loves that she usually says it before she puts food in her mouth. Her little hand is still rooting in his pocket, so he assumes she has decided she would like to eat one of the puffs…never mind that there are plenty of non-pocket ones in a bowl on the coffee table.
"Yum," Mark repeats, validating her at the same time he privately acknowledges what strange little creatures toddlers are. He touches Clara's cheek after she has finished munching on her puff, and the gesture prompts her to look at him. She seems so grown up today, now photo-ready with a section of strawberry blonde hair pulled away from her face with a small bow that matches the color of Mark's suit, and clothed in a satin dress with tulle overlay.
"You know you're gonna be okay, right?" He says after he has her attention. It is not something Clara can understand, but he feels compelled to convey the message anyway, probably more for himself and for Addison. This is the first time they will be leaving Clara overnight. They tried to be thoughtful when they booked their appointment time, so that, ideally, Clara will be ready for her morning nap shortly after the clerk has pronounced Mark and Addison husband and wife. A sleepy Clara is generally a cooperative Clara, so if everything works out, she will fall asleep in Savvy's arms and therefore not be panicked when her parents – especially Addison – start to edge away from her. "Yeah," he decides when Clara leans forward, resting her head against his shoulder for a brief moment before she is once again in motion, this time wandering over to a fabric cube that contains some of her books. "You're gonna be okay."
"Ready," Addison calls out softly. She holds her position until Mark turns to look at her, and then she comes the rest of the way into the living room. Her hands skim over her hips, flattening out the material of her ivory dress. It is not much, in a way, especially for her: just a simple, short-sleeved Badgley Mischka cocktail dress introduced either three or four springs ago. She found it tucked almost inconspicuously on a rack when she and Savvy were supposed to be "just looking." She feels pretty in it though, and the way Mark is staring at her…she knows it is absolutely the correct choice. "Thanks for waiting so patiently," she tacks on.
Waiting. As Mark gets to his feet and wipes away the remaining distance between them, he thinks of something that often occurs to him when he looks at Addison, and at Clara, too: How are you real, and how are you mine? He still remembers what Addison said when a newborn Clara was first placed in her arms. Hi, Clara, she had choked out, the air filling with her happy sobs as the entire atlas of their world shifted once again. We've been waiting for you.
"You look beautiful, Addison."
"Thank you." She beams at the compliment, and then her gaze swings over the two-piece suit and dress shirt she selected for Mark. Like her outfit – and Clara's too, for that matter – there is an element of simplicity to it, but they fit nicely together. Addison also finds herself grateful that her daughter currently has a board book spread over her lap, which grants them an opportunity to have a few more semi-private moments together. "You look really nice, too." She sets a hand on Mark's chest, and her eyebrows knit closer together when the texture rubbing against her palm feels odd. "Did she put…?" Addison laughs when Mark confirms there are a generous number of cereal puffs still on his person. "Makes sense, I guess. Girls love pockets." She returns her hand to her side. "It's a whole thing."
"I'll have to take your word for it. Addison, I…I just want you to know…I would have waited forever. I remember saying once that I'd wait for you, but I wouldn't wait forever." Mark's statement brings them back in time two years: lying in bed together, staring at the deep shade of blue from the projector nightlight swirling around the ceiling, oblivious to the new life they were going to find themselves hurtled into just six weeks later. "The truth is though, I would have waited forever. I know I would have. My feelings wouldn't have changed even if…if it didn't work out between us." It is vague enough that it lends itself to any number of outcomes: if you walked away before we got caught. If you weren't ready for a relationship with me. If we hadn't had a serious talk about where things stood between us, and then I did something stupid. If you went to Seattle and fought for your marriage instead. If we tried, but just couldn't get it right. The vagueness in this moment feels as much about tactfulness to Mark as it does about being realistic; this all could have turned out so differently. "And, I mean, while I was waiting forever, it's not like…" he stumbles, wanting to be, well, honest, if he can find a way to remain on this tactfully-worded track. "I would have, you know, found ways to keep myself occupied…"
"Like joining a book club," Addison helpfully supplies.
"Right." Mark plays along with her good-humored suggestion, as though they both believe this is how he would have spent time without her in a now-alternate-universe. "And if you didn't want to be with me, maybe I would have eventually grown up, and I don't know, met someone at book club and we could have made a book club family together, but it wouldn't…it wouldn't be this. I could never feel for anyone else what I feel for you. Anyone else would have been 'something,' but you, and Clara, and the one on the way…you're everything."
"I didn't…" Addison lets out a soft, joyful-touched laugh as she tries to blink away tears. "I didn't realize we were doing personal vows."
"We're not. I just…needed to tell you that."
"Well, I'm really glad you did. And now it's my turn." Addison's words are chased by a steadying inhale as she reaches for his hands. "You waited, Mark. And you didn't have to – I would have understood if you didn't or couldn't, honestly – but you did. And I'm so, so happy that you did. You never gave up on me. You saw me. You've always seen me, actually. And you always want to know what I'm feeling, and what I'm thinking. You make me feel like I'm enough, exactly as am. You've always been here for me, and supported me. And I love all those things about you. I love how you love me. It used to be 'you and me and then everything else,' but now it's like…it's just us. The four of us," she says. "Let's go get married."
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Addison closes her eyes, taking a moment to marvel over how comforting the sun feels on her face, the way heat against skin remains one of the simplest but most pleasurable experiences. They arrived in Westhampton early this afternoon, and save for a quick snack break, every minute has been spent in the pool, with Addison and Mark taking turns trying to match the girls' energy (currently, Mark is on duty).
They left their packing for this morning – opting to do pretty much nothing yesterday in between Meredith's follow-up appointment, and when the families met in the evening – but they somehow got out the door without any complications or raised voices. Even Ruby, who was in a sour mood all the way until bedtime with what Meredith earlier proclaimed was a "classic dangerous Scorpio temper," had been positively ecstatic when she woke up, and had asked far, far too many times, "When are we going to leave?"
There is now a crow of delight – which tugs Addison out of her sunshine-induced reverie – from said Scorpio, who as of a few minutes ago, is able to successfully float on her back. Ruby is a good swimmer, but floating has always triggered a sense of panic for her. Now it has finally clicked though.
"Mommy! Mommy! Did you -"
"I saw, Rubes. I'm so proud of you." Addison smiles at Ruby, and then makes sure to hold some eye contact with her other loved ones to express her gratitude: there is Mark, who promised Ruby over and over again that he would not let her drown or get water up her nose, and then Clara, who doggy-paddled close to Ruby's side and offered gentle encouragement. Be like a starfish. Mark said it to Ruby several times today, and then to Clara before her, when she was around Ruby's age and also learning to float. Mark told Addison that Jenny used to say this to him when she was teaching him to spread his limbs along the water's surface.
Blissful. That is how Addison would describe what she is currently feeling, as the girls haul themselves out of the water and amble a dripping trail over to her.
"There we go…" she murmurs when she wraps Ruby in a towel, and then does the same for Clara. "Get nice and dry, and then we can all go inside." She holds the remaining towel out for Mark when he approaches after closing the gate to the pool fence. Each rippling movement of his shoulders and the hard muscles lining his chest and stomach causes droplets of water on his skin to glisten in the sunlight.
"I appreciate that you still check me out." Mark catches her staring, and it makes Addison blush, even though she feels like she is too old to blush. She knows it is a good thing though, that they still have this effect on each other. "It really helps, since I have low self-esteem," he teases, keeping his voice low, even though the girls are paying no attention to them.
"Sure you do." Addison distractedly collects her vibrating phone off the arm of an Adirondack, and grins when she sees who the incoming call is from. "It's Amelia," she says, which causes her daughters to tune back in. "We'll FaceTime her tomorrow," she hurriedly adds. They do not see Amelia often – she is busy as a teaching fellow these days – but Addison usually texts her weekly, and at least once a month she will put her on FaceTime so she can say hello to the girls, who call her Aunt Amelia. They do not know any of the history; they think she is just Mommy's friend. "I'm going to catch up with Amelia for a few minutes." She looks at Mark, who proffers a nod to assure he will keep the girls out of her way, and try to keep them relatively quiet. "Once you're dry and out of your suits, you can pick out a movie to watch." This is not Addison's preferred activity on such a nice day, but it feels like a good plan since it will buy her some uninterrupted time.
The call is a clear indication Amelia has seen the text Addison sent her a few hours ago while putting away items from a grocery delivery service: Your littlest nephew is adorable. Thanks for never mentioning him. She had added a winking face emoji to make sure the words did not come across as accusatory or harsh; this one was definitely on Addison. There was an unspoken agreement when she and Amelia reconnected after Clara was born: Derek was not to be discussed unless Addison brought him up. She initially felt too fragile to want to know anything about Derek's life, and as time went on, the protective layer around her finally-healed heart stayed in place, and Amelia – for as brash and impulsive as she has always been – was a good enough friend and former sister-in-law to be supportive of whatever Addison needed to hear or not hear.
"Addie…" Amelia's bubbly laughter comes through as soon as Addison accepts the call. "You never asked."
Addison shuts the door to the first floor master before she responds. "And the first rule of the Ex-Husbands Club is that you don't talk about the Ex-Husbands Club, right?"
"Got it in one," Amelia says. "Speaking of kids…why don't I hear yours? Clara, I get it, she's quiet and she's chill, but Ruby always sounds like she's talking into a megaphone or like she's announcing the starting lineup at a Red Sox game. And Yankees, Yankees, I know, but I'm in Cambridge now, so I can't just walk around talking about New York-based teams. Anyway, the loudness…hey, are you sure Mark is the dad, because even though Derek isn't super loud, the rest of the Shepherds are, especially me, and -"
"Yes, I'm certain I know who Ruby's father is. Thank you though, for the filter-less question…or joke. You're not hearing them though because they're about to start a movie, and they've got the post-swimming sleepies." Amelia may not be able to hear them, but Addison can detect hushed movement as the girls head upstairs to their shared bedroom. She feels a strong pull to not be away from them for long – typical parental guilt – and vows to keep this catch-up session with Amelia short, and have a proper, glass-of-wine kind of phone call with her later, when the girls are asleep. She says as much to Amelia, who indulges her need to feel like she is neglecting her children for a small window of time, and then Addison provides an overview of what the past week with Derek, Meredith, and Theo was like, with Amelia chiming in here and there with questions. She also talks about the procedure, and is pleased to find out from Amelia that Derek emailed all the Shepherds last night to let them know how yesterday's appointment went.
They make plans to talk more soon, and then Amelia is off to get back to work before Ginsberg has my ass, and Addison makes her way into the family room, where a blanket fort has been assembled. Credit where credit is due: somehow, without making much noise, Mark and the girls were able to drape comforters over four kitchen barstools, secure them in place via a combination of books and cushions, position freshly laundered bedsheets on the far sides, and then hang a third sheet over the back of the couch.
"Do I have two children, or three?" Addison asks when she coaxes back one of the sheets enough to poke her head inside. Not that she isn't amused…she just did not realize prior to becoming a parent how much of it would involve the furniture in her house being moved around and constructed in very specific ways to accommodate forts. But then, parenthood rarely looks like what you think it is going to look like.
It is even better, most of the time.
"Definitely three." Mark makes a come in motion with his hand. "Join us." The girls are curled peacefully on either side of him, leaning close to the glow of the iPad. Fluffy blankets surround them. Addison crawls into the fort and shuffles to the nearest side, which is the one Clara is on – and it is a testament to Ruby's tiredness that she does not protest why her mom picked Clara's side and not hers.
"Pause," Ruby requests just a few minutes into the movie. Mark taps the appropriate button. He and Addison have worked hard with Ruby to get her to say "pause," rather than just launch into talking over the characters (the next step is going to be to try to limit the number of times she asks that a movie be paused). "I wish I got to go to your wedding." She points at the fingerprint-smudged screen, where a wedding is taking place.
"You were there," Addison reasons gently. This is not the first time this conversation has been had. Each at-home movie opportunity for the better part of a year has featured the girls cycling between the two movies they love the most, and at least half the time, Ruby will bring up this bone of contention when the appropriate scene comes along. "You were just in my tummy."
"Clara got to go."
"She did, but she was too little to remember it."
"No, I remember it," Clara says, and Addison and Mark hold back smiles. Their older daughter knows the details not because she remembers them, but because she has heard them over the years, and seen the framed photos in their duplex that support her statements.
Clara wastes no time in sharing what she "remembers" with an increasingly jealous Ruby: the three of them got ready together. Dad had cereal in one of his pockets. Aunt Savvy and Danielle met them at the building where Mom and Dad got married. Two times they waited for their number to be called, and then they waited for their names to be called, which meant it was time to get married. Danielle took a lot of pictures. Mom held a small bouquet, with camellias and peonies and roses in different colors (it's the Forbes in Clara…floral identification and recall is not a challenge). Mom went with something colorful because Grandma Jenny liked colorful flowers, so it was kind of for her. Clara sat in Aunt Savvy's lap on one of the benches in the wedding ceremony room. She was holding a stuffed unicorn, which Aunt Amelia got her for her first birthday, but there were also ducks in one of the tote bags with her things. The TV remote did not come, even though that was maybe her most favorite toy at the time. And she was quiet and so, so good while Mom and Dad got married (this may be Clara's favorite part to share). And then after the ceremony was over, they took more pictures, and then Mom and Dad drove to Westhampton, and Clara stayed with Aunt Savvy and Uncle Weiss for the weekend. One of her shoes fell off in the taxi, and Aunt Savvy didn't notice, so the shoe was lost (actually, this may be Clara's favorite part, even though Savvy continues to insist the shoe fell off before they got in the taxi, and therefore she cannot possibly be liable).
"Ruby…" Addison says once Clara's run-down has come to an end, and naturally did nothing to help curb Ruby's sullenness. "You always say 'ew' when you see me and Daddy kiss. I don't think you would have liked our wedding very much. You were sort of there the second time we got married though -"
"You haven't been married two times," Clara interrupts. One of her fingers traces a line through the air as she emphasizes her point; she often talks with her hands, just like Addison does. Ruby is starting to do it too, lately. "You and Daddy have just been married one time."
"Mm." The sound Addison makes in return is unintentionally noncommittal. Clara is speaking specifically about her and Mark – as she has no reason to believe there was an additional marriage for Addison – but it still causes Addison to give Mark a brief glance. One day. The plan has always been to share this information with the girls by working it into the conversation organically. Now would actually be a good time, to the rhythm of, "You know, I was married once before I was married to your daddy…" but she'll give it a bit longer before she shares a PG explanation for why this is her second marriage. It is not the hardest topic to explain, from what she has always been able to gather. Clara and Ruby are used to all sorts of parents in their respective classes and afterschool activities: man and woman married ones, same-sex married ones, just-mommy-or-just-daddy families, parents who live together but are not married, and parents who do not live together, who have either never been married, or used to be married. The girls both know – in the way a six-year-old and four-year-old are capable of knowing, at least – what it means to be divorced. And, given that Addison and Derek have reunited in a sense, and the girls have met him and spent time with him, and spent time with his second wife and son, maybe that will somehow make it less weird to process. It occurs to Addison that she also needs to tell them that Amelia is Derek's sister. She mentally adds that to the list, too.
"You're right. It was just once that we got officially married. But, actually…we sort of said we'd marry each other again a year later. You know how one of my rings has our birthstones?" Addison watches as both girls nod. "Well, we waited until after you were born, Ruby, to get the topaz stone added for you. And we waited a while, because you…" she extends one of her hands across Clara and Mark to tickle Ruby's stomach, but Ruby squeals and wiggles out of reach. "You hardly ever slept, little miss, so we were tired, and it took us a few months to take my ring in so we could get the new stone. And then your dad gave me back the ring on our first anniversary, and we sort of did this funny thing where we both repeated the vows the clerk had us say, and when we were doing that, I was holding you in my lap. So you were there for that wedding, even though it maybe wasn't the real one." She smiles thoughtfully at Mark. "It was real to us though."
"Where was I?" Clara asks, immediately wanting to know where she fits in.
"Up on the roof by yourself," Mark jokes.
This makes her giggle. "No I wasn't," she insists.
"You're right. You were next to your mom, playing with your ducks."
Addison and Mark are able to excuse themselves about halfway through the movie so they can get dinner started. It is a simple meal tonight – just pasta (sauce for Ruby, buttered noodles only for Clara) and some vegetables.
"Say the word and I'll get back into my swim trunks for you," Mark tells Addison as he places two pots on the stove.
"Why don't you just concentrate on helping me." She kisses him on the cheek though, and assumes he understands that more than kissing will follow once the girls are asleep.
"Ew," he says when Addison steps back.
"Shut up."
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. .
Five Years Earlier
"We don't mind, it's fine…" Addison insists as Mark hoists a now-packed-up camera bag over his shoulder, which leaves their photographer, Danielle, with only her purse and a jacket to carry. "It's so nice out." The sun seems like it is shining extra bright today, after all the rain last night. "We're at the parking garage off Reade, so we aren't far from you, and you helped us load up Clara's stuff, so we're just returning the favor." Danielle was kind enough to help Savvy and a sleeping Clara get into a cab, along with everything Addison packed (arguably too much) for Clara for her weekend with Savvy and Weiss. Danielle had also been kind enough to look away when Addison started tearing up as the cab eased away from the sidewalk. "The next time we meet somewhere I'll text you in advance so we can pick the same garage. I figured maybe we could do some pictures in the early fall. Like…family ones and maternity ones." Addison looks at Danielle, who gives her an affirming grin. There were a few pictures taken today where Addison had purposely held a hand to her stomach, which led to the question from Danielle, and a nod and accompanying, It's still early though from Addison. Maternity pictures of women in long, flowing dresses cradling their half-moon bellies have always seemed cheesy to Addison (too Sanctimonious Mother Earth Goddess for her liking, kind of), but she trusts the way Danielle has always captured their family, and decides she would not mind having some tasteful, non-goddess pictures. This wasn't something she did – or would have even considered – during her pregnancy with Clara. She has a few pictures of herself during the fall and winter months of her first pregnancy, but most of them are her standing beside Mark, the two of them a united, cautious front in protecting their growing family. "And then ones at our place after the new baby comes, if you can. Like you did with us and Clara."
"Definitely. So you're due in…?"
"November. November twenty-seventh. A few people know, but we're waiting until I hit the second trimester before I start telling everyone else. I thought if there are a few shots with my hand on my stomach though, just…I guess it's sort of a way to include the baby. Like, to soften the blow if one day he or she starts complaining about how it's not fair Clara got to be at the wedding and he or she didn't."
"That's so thoughtful."
Mark studies Danielle. She has two boys and a girl; the look on her face is telling. "It's not gonna work, is it?"
"Nope. Wait." Danielle waves a hand at the triumphal arch steadying the Manhattan Municipal Building. "Come with me for a sec…we should get a few over there." She looks at Mark and Addison to make sure they do not have an objection. They have been decidedly unfussy all morning – just some photos during the actual ceremony and on the steps in front of the Office of the City Clerk afterward would have sufficed, in their opinion – but Danielle was able to talk them into also taking shots in nearby Foley Square, and then by the stately columns of the courthouse. "It's okay; I'll just use my phone," she assures when Mark starts to offer back the camera bag to her to unload. "And I'll text you guys afterward. That way you'll have a fewpictures to look at while I work on editing the rest."
Mark and Addison lead the way through the plaza, and then come to a halt in front of the arch.
"Now face each other and just…do something less posed." Danielle smirks when they both blink at her, still awaiting further instruction. "Whatever you want. Just be yourselves."
Put that way, Mark feels like it is an easy request. It is all they have ever had to be with each other. He cups Addison's cheek in one of his hands – the hand that now has a wedding band on it. Light from the sun and shade from the yawning limestone tunnel bracket them. Addison opens her mouth, but it takes her a moment to share the word that has settled on her tongue.
"Everything," she whispers.
"Everything," he repeats.
. .
. .
Summer – the vacation aspect more than the seasonal one at this point – comes to an end. Gradually and then suddenly, it feels like, but Addison and Mark also continue to measure time how they always have: by each other, and by their daughters, and often by the other people in their life whom they love. Clara starts first grade. Ruby heads to Pre-K, and with a turning-five-in-the-fall birthday, she is the oldest in her class, and something of a Pied Piper to the rest of the kids often trailing in her wake. Phoebe gives herself bangs and a crooked bob, and Savvy grumbles to Addison about the passive-aggressive comments her mother-in-law aimed at her, even though Weiss was the one home with Phoebe when she went full-on Roman Holiday with the scissors, not me. Archer visits one weekend. He cannot stand the city in August and September, when it is at its most humid, but he loves his nieces, and every once in a while, gets the urge to show it. The list of things Addison wishes he would not talk about while the girls are in earshot continues to grow, but she knows her brother's heart is in the right place and he is not purposely trying to make parenting more difficult for her (after Archer's visit, Clara asked Addison how come only farmers are allowed to buy cows, and she was able to work backward from her daughter's question to determine that Clara must have overheard Archer say, "Why buy the cow, when you can get the milk for free?" when talking about a recent lover). Try seeing a therapist sometime, Addison told him during his stay. Its helped me so much.
The hazy gold of the next season draws nearer. Addison and Mark remain busy, in the way that doctors and parents – especially when you qualify for both categories – always are. She is one of the keynotes at a Prenatal Diagnosis and Obstetrics Conference in Toronto one weekend, and he performs a surgery considered "groundbreaking" enough that it earns a mention in The New York Times; Derek texts him about it when he sees the article one Sunday while flipping through the pages for the crossword puzzle. They begin and end each day (the non-bed portion, Mark would probably want clarified) by discussing who has what today and tomorrow, because life with Clara and Ruby is an endless series of shuffling them to and from school and activities and appointments and play dates and parties. It is usually a matter of who is closer and who has more flexibility, but Mark knows Addison tends to pick up Clara from ballet class more than he does. It isn't really a gender demarcation thing; he can tell his wife gets something out of watching Clara dance, beyond parental pride. Addison had her own experiences as a dancer, and as a performer, but many of her childhood extracurriculars were not ones she enjoyed. There was always pressure to be the best, and when she was not the best, the disappointment was all-encompassing. Mark understands she feels empowered in that she gets to make sure her daughters do not have similar struggles with their self-worth. He is biased, so it is easy to say Clara and Ruby have natural gifts – they are smart, creative, and good athletes who seem to do well no matter what the physical activity is – but he can also see where "nurture" fits in with whatever abilities his children may have come into the world with. And maybe nurture is what is honing the girls' predilections.
"She has it." Vera, one of Clara's ballet instructors, shared this observation with Mark when he picked up Clara after class one afternoon in early October. He looked at Clara – who was across the way with a few of her leotard-clad friends – and expected to see that she was holding something to take with her, like in the way that Ruby's new team has a funny little stuffed raccoon the kids take turns bringing home with them after practice. A few weeks ago, Ruby decided she would rather play flag football than do a tumbling class. She is the only girl on the Bandits, but she doesn't care.
"No, it," Vera clarified. "You have a talented little girl. She works hard, but it also seems to be instinctual. Aligning her spine, knowing what the ballet terms actually mean, keeping her feet pointed every time they leave the floor…it all makes sense to her. She could go far, if that's something she wants, and something you want for her."
Mark nodded and expressed appreciation for the compliment portion, but not the overarching statement with all its implications. He left the studio feeling thankful nothing of grandeur is the emphasis at Clara's age, or in her class; it is still supposed to be "fun while learning," and his wife agrees with him. They want Clara to be young – and stay young – for as long as possible, which in this case means not having one interest become a singular, competition-breeding focus. No matter how much Clara has expressed that she wants to play Clara in the New York City Ballet production of The Nutcracker when she is older (It's actually Marie, they have reminded her, but she won't hear of it), Mark and Addison do not want to have over-scheduled, over-stimulated kids, and mostly, they do not want Clara and Ruby to ever feel like they are not enough. He supposes the only way the girls would probably feel like this at their current ages was if their parents were making them feel this way, and while he and Addison are not perfect parents, he believes they do a good job of ensuring their children feel supported. They have done everything they can – through their words, their actions, their affection – to show Clara and Ruby their love for them is unconditional. Something about Vera's observation unsettles Mark though, and he later realizes it is not just a callback to the childhoods – his and Addison's, specifically – he does not want his daughters to have. He discovers it is also about the fleetingness of childhood, of this special time. Clara is six. But some days, it is easy to imagine her at ten, at thirteen, at sixteen.
There is no recent comment about Ruby that forces Mark to have to consider her as any age other than four, but she is living her best life all the same. She succeeds on the football field, and is doing a great job with writing her name and matching some letters to sounds. She is also quite skilled leadership-wise, or so Mark tells himself. That's the positive spin for it, at least.
"Look at her just…holding court out there." Mark inclines his head toward Ruby, who is seated a few bars up on the dome jungle gym. A handful of classmates in the after-care program are staring up at her. Mark cannot hear what Ruby is saying from this far away, but her tone sounds exuberant and cheerful. That is one comforting thing for him when it comes to being the father of a spirited child: Ruby is outgoing, and he has no doubt she will always fight for a seat at the table, but she isn't usually bossy or my-way-or-the-highway when she plays with her peers.
He hears Lynette laugh quietly beside him. She is on "pick-up duty" today as well, and St. Galgano, the school her grandsons attend, is only two blocks from here. Rowan and Beckett are now ten and seven, and at present, Clara might be crushing on Rowan just as much as Rowan used to have a crush on Addison.
"What do you think she's telling them?" Mark could head to the gate where two of the after-care aides are stationed so he can sign Ruby out, but Lynette doesn't have to pick up the boys for another twenty minutes, so he is okay with waiting longer, especially since Ruby will not mind (there is nothing more humbling than when your child is upset by your arrival because they don't want to leave yet).
"Well. Is Ruby telling them something or is she just…recruiting them?"
"What?"
"I'm just saying, Mark. God love the girl, but she would be an incredible cult leader." And Mark finds he cannot really disagree with Lynette, and Addison laughs when he tells her about this exchange later. When he shared that it is hard to think of Ruby being a hypothetical older age, Addison informed him this is just his brain's way of protecting him: the world might not be ready for a teenage version of their younger daughter. They certainly aren't just yet.
As fall make its presence more visible in the form of nippier weather and crinkled, rust-shaded leaves that gather on the sidewalks, they realize they have another marker for how they are tracking the passage of time: their friends in Seattle. Because "friends" is how they think of them now. Each day that comes to a close is another day Meredith makes it through without going into labor. The kids have FaceTimed thrice now, with their parents hovered around the screens to supervise. The last time, the girls got to see "what Theo's room looks like." Derek had awkwardly steered the iPad around the bedroom on Theo's behalf. The little boy was especially excited to point out his train set; the trains and tracks he brought with him to New York were really just a small preview of everything he has.
Meredith texts Addison with pregnancy-related questions, and keeps her updated on the twins' in-utero development. And not long after returning to Seattle, Meredith starts to text about other things, too. Potty training tips. If Addison used a wipe warmer with either of the girls, and if she did, was it actually worth it. What Addison's C-section recovery was like. Any guidance on how to help Theo adjust to not being an only child in the near future. If Addison and Mark gave Clara a present when Ruby was born. Then there are some "You won't believe what Theo…" stories, too, which makes it clear to Addison that her friends' mellow-seeming, cheery son does occasionally throw fits.
Addison reciprocates with her own stories, and finds herself smiling – something she never could have predicted a few years ago – when she sees that she has a new message from her ex-husband's wife. And speaking of ex-husbands…Derek texts her sometimes, and he texts Mark, too. The fact that it is not just medicine, that sometimes it is about child development and sports and other little conversational odds and ends that fuel day-to-day life…surely, Derek and Meredith have people in Seattle they can talk to. But, cast in bronze. It comes back to Addison again: all those properties that work together to form something distinctively strong, and historically significant.
Fall feels like a different breed entirely when the weather takes on a gloomier appearance near the end of October. Rain is landing sharp like needles against the duplex windows on the evening of the twenty-seventh when a group text sent to Mark and Addison arrives. They are as far apart as they could possibly be in the house – him in the kitchen, and her upstairs in the master bedroom, shucking off today's blouse and skirt in favor of something more comfortable – when the notification from Derek reaches their respective phones. 33 weeks gestation. Mark knew that part already; Addison has kept Meredith's due date in mind, and usually tells him each week how far along Meredith is now. His eyes skim over the details – which sound like a combination of what a surgeon would relay, and what an over-the-moon new father would include – in an attempt to zero in on the most important parts first. Both girls will be in the NICU for a bit, but are doing well. And Meredith is doing well, too.
The noise of someone coming down the stairs sounds positively thunderous, though Mark would never phrase it that way to his wife.
"Did you see…?" Mark begins when Addison turns a corner and appears in the kitchen, looking wild-eyed. She quickly nods. "Addison…" Mark sets his phone down, and comes over to her. He lightly grasps her by the arms as he shares, "You did this. You made this happen."
"Meredith did this. And the OB who delivered them, and everyone else in the OR. I just helped." Addison knows she is selling herself short, but she does not mind. She does not feel the need to take credit for the laser ablation that made it possible to get to this point. Having support always helps, and so does medical intervention, but in Addison's experience, most humans – even the tiniest ones – can be pretty resilient. She glances at her phone when she receives another notification. Two pictures and additional text now envelop the screen.
Mia (A) is in the first pic and Elise (B) is in the next one.
"I remember him saying they liked Mia," Mark says.
"They're nice names," she replies. "Elise might be…maybe it's for Meredith's mom. It's close to Ellis." Addison is not sure if she is saying it more for herself, or actually engaging with Mark. She studies each picture of the babies in their incubators while keeping the stats Derek shared in mind. Each twin weighs a little over four pounds – and Elise, who Addison only knew as "Baby B," and who was measuring smaller than her sister, is now not far behind in weight and length.
"What are you looking at?"
Mark lifts his gaze to find Clara and Ruby staring at them. They are both displaying matching curious expressions.
"We're looking at Derek and Meredith's babies," Addison announces. "They were born this afternoon." She holds her phone up higher when this news prompts the girls to scramble forward. "Wait," she says. "The twins were born early, so they're very tiny. They're okay, but they're tiny, and since they're tiny, they have some stuff attached to them that's helping them – wires, tape…things like that. Remember when Lucy's brother was born, and he needed help breathing so he had tubes in his nose for a few days?" She makes a sweeping gesture below her nostrils meant to signal a nasal CPAP, and Mark finds himself grateful to have a spouse who can maintain medical accuracy in an age-appropriate, not-scary way. "The twins have those, too. And there are a few other wires on them, and some machines nearby. Everything is to help them though." She lowers her phone now. "Here they are. Derek said this one is Mia…" she pauses, and then swipes to the next image. "And that's Elise."
"Is he sure?" Clara asks. "They're identical, so…so he could have mixed them up." Addison decides she will wait a few days before she shares this remark with her ex-husband. "You're right, Mom; they're really tiny. Can Meredith and Derek hold them? Or do they have to stay in the glass boxes?"
Addison smiles at the concern and thoughtfulness shading her daughter's face. "They're mostly going to stay in their incubators – that's what the glass boxes are called – but yes, Meredith and Derek will be able to hold them, and see the circle in the glass there?" She points out the porthole Mia's face is visible through. "They can reach their hands in there to touch them. And then they'll hold them lots and lots when they're finally able to come home." Addison can see the next question brewing, so she also says, "I'm not sure how soon they'll come home. The most important thing is that they're doing okay. The wires and machines are going to help them get strong enough to go home."
"Will Free-oh get to hold them?" Ruby tugs on Addison's wrist when she asks the question. "Clara got to hold me when I was a baby." This appears to be a huge point of pride for Ruby, but she says it in a way that does not make it clear if she is lucky Clara got to hold her, or if Clara is the lucky one for being granted the privilege of holding her little sister.
"He'll get to hold them," Mark chimes in. "Not right away, but eventually he will."
"What about Halloween? Will they get to wear costumes?" Ruby loves Halloween – it is her favorite holiday, and she has been scratching out the days on a calendar, so she knows just how close they are to the end of the month. This year, she is going to be Wonder Woman, and Clara is going to be Belle from Beauty and the Beast. Mark loves that they both picked strong women to emulate.
"I'm not sure if they'll get dressed up this year, Rubes."
"They could be trains. Theo is going to be a train 'ductor, remember?" That was the case for Theo when they FaceTimed two weeks ago, at least; Ruby had asked him. She switches her attention back to Addison. "Can you ask Derek if -"
"Right now, Daddy and I are just going to tell Derek 'congratulations,' and that Mia and Elise are beautiful," Addison cuts in. "Mommies and daddies don't really have time to answer a lot of questions after they've just had babies." She maintains her patience when Ruby informs her it is actually just one question, not a lot of questions. "But you girls can help me pick out a gift to send to the twins – and something for Theo, too. Maybe we can find something with trains."
Addison responds to Derek just as she told her daughters she would, and Mark contributes a few words of congratulations after she does. A reply comes from Derek later that night while they are getting ready for bed: Thanks. I'll keep you updated. They're still doing great. Oh and Meredith wants you to know they're Scorpios.
"Like Ruby and Theo." Addison places her phone on the dresser. "A little earlier and they would have been…I can't remember what comes before that. Virgos or Libras, I think." She starts to laugh, but then it segues into crying.
"Addison…" Mark circles his arms around her.
Her words are muffled into his chest when she tells him, "I don't know why I'm crying."
"Because the last two months have been so damn weird." A good weird, Mark thinks as he strokes his wife's hair. But an exhausting, emotional one, too, and today is sort of the culmination of all that. The babies Addison did her part in saving are now here. When Derek came to New York in August in need of help, Mark and Addison had leaned on each other then as much as they did during the challenges they had to get through before Clara was born. "What if…what if we did a weekend away?" He suggests when Addison's tears have ebbed. "Just us. Maybe the weekend after Ruby's birthday or something…?" They usually just go to Westhampton by themselves in April for their anniversary, but as far as Mark is concerned, they have earned this.
Addison gives him a watery smile. "What makes you think we're going to survive Ruby's birthday?" Next Saturday, they are hosting a birthday party for Ruby at an indoor play place. Invitations were extended to her classmates, football teammates, and a few other friends Ruby has collected thanks to the people who have been a part of Mark and Addison's life since before she was born. Parties for Clara and Ruby have been reasonably small in the past – just family, and a limited number of friends – but this time Mark and Addison have, perhaps regrettably, found themselves going all out after a lot of begging from Ruby.
"Fair point. We'll just hope for the best."
. .
. .
Five Years Earlier
"I feel like you're taking a huge risk with that…" Mark gives Addison a hasty look before refocusing on the section of highway in front of him. The grapes she ate when they first got on the LIE were harmless enough, but a granola bar bursting with half-melted chocolate chips may not be as easy to navigate in a white dress.
"You think the daughter of Bizzy Montgomery doesn't know how to eat without making a mess?" Addison counters. She brings the bar to her mouth and takes a large, aggressive-sounding bite on purpose. "Besides…" she reports after she has worked her way through the rest of her snack. "If I don't eat now, I'm going to need to eat something when we get there. And I'm assuming you have other ideas about what the first thing we should do -"
"Each other, yeah."
"That's what I thought."
After they make it to the house in Westhampton, Mark waits patiently (well, sort of patiently) while Addison picks through her spread-open suitcase after a mumble that sounded something like I just need to get something. He is quiet as she latches onto a small bag with a hanger poking out of it, but he is not able to keep up the quiet act when Addison primly rises to her full height and announces she is "going to hang up my dress and get changed really quick."
"In there?" Mark says when she gestures with her thumb toward the master bathroom. Addison stares back blankly. "I'd be more than happy to put your dress on the hanger." In retrospect, he accepts that it should not surprise him his now-wife will want to put her dress away neatly before they tear into each other. "I just...figured I'd be part of the whole 'taking off your clothes' thing."
"You are." Addison cannot help but laugh at his disappointment. "You will be. I'm taking the dress off so I can put something else on, and that's what you're going to be able to take off." She wiggles the bag she is grasping so it is evident the hanger is not the only item inside. "Trust me: you'll like what's in the bag a lot more than you'll like what's currently under my dress. It's a white dress, so…" she makes a face. "What do you usually call that color…practical nude?"
"Functional nude," he corrects. "And for the record, I don't not like functional nude-colored bras and panties on you. If you're worried about it not being 'honeymoon sexy' or something, I mean, come on, after Clara was born you had to wear -"
"Do you want to spend time talking about the high-waisted mesh underwear I wore after bringing your child into the world – and will have to inevitably wear again because you're so damn good at knocking me up – or can I go get changed?"
"…yeah, go get changed."
"You're probably the only man alive who can still manage to get laid after talking about postpartum unmentionables," Addison communicates through the shut door.
"Well…" Mark pauses as he takes off his suit jacket, and then heaves it over the back of a lounge chair. "Not that I was trying to be insulting, but I have a pretty good feeling I'm going to get laid regardless."
Her reply is a mix of intrigue and sarcasm when she says, "Oh, really?"
"Yep. The last few minutes of our drive, I noticed you were doing that…thighs-pressed-together thing you always do when you're in the mood but you have to wait. Second trimester arrive early, bunny?"
"It might have," she admits. "Okay…" a few seconds later Mark hears the slight clunk of the hanger being tucked over a towel hook. "Okay," Addison repeats as she opens the bathroom door. "Worth the extra two minutes, hopefully."
"Wow." Mark's voice is almost reverent when she lets a short, silky robe he assumes was mostly for dramatic effect tumble to the floor, leaving a view for him that features a blend of smooth, creamy skin and white lace.
"A good 'wow,' right?" She rubs a thumb experimentally over the top of a silk satin thong sitting low on her hips. "Earlier today I was ninety-five percent sure that I'm showing," she muses, "but now I'm one-hundred percent sure that -"
"You look amazing. God, you're perfect." Mark makes sure he looks her properly in the eyes when he issues the compliment, but then his gaze scales lower, taking in the delicate rise and fall of her chest, and her long, toned legs. "I'm just…I'm so lucky. C'mere." He pulls lightly on Addison's hand, and brings her over to the bed with him. The way they move in an attempt to scoot closer to the center of the mattress feels borderline ungainly, but Mark is not complaining because the end result is Addison seated in his lap, and her lips flaring against his. As they kiss, his hands wander approvingly over her body, and her smaller ones reciprocate, gliding in indistinguishable patterns along his chest and shoulders. The foundation of how they are presently connected feels the same, but it also feels different to Mark, too. A great different though. A really, really great different.
"My…my heart is beating so fast," Addison whispers, and the look in her eyes is enough to show him that something about it feels different for her this time, too. As though the weight of this morning's commitment to each other has broadened the intimacy.
"Mine too."
"You know, clothing removal-wise…we're not very even yet." She was able to successfully unbutton Mark's shirt and roll it off his shoulders a few minutes ago, but she cannot assist any further while the bulk of her weight is on his thighs. His hands are firmly planted on her hips though, indicating some averseness to releasing her, even though he cannot be comfortable at present; Addison can feel the thick heat of him straining through the fabric of his pants, and she grazes her fingers over him to make her point. Mark shudders at how good it feels, but he is able to bring the attention back to her when he leans forward to kiss her neck.
"I know. It's just been such a long time since I've gotten to do this."
"We had sex…" Addison pauses to consider when the last time was, except lucid thoughts are difficult to summon when Mark's lips are nibbling a path close to her ear. "Mm. Like, three nights ago, I think." She straightens her posture so she can stare at him.
His eyes are smoldering when he meets hers. "I meant take my time with you."
"Oh." She feels almost breathless when she recognizes that this is now, or once again…an option. The heartbeat in her chest no longer feels like a match for the one that is strengthening between her legs. It's not like Mark isn't considerate when it comes to pleasuring her, because he is. Incredibly so. But, sure, ordinarily there is a thirteen-month-old one door down, so even when they are wrapped up in one another, there's still a percentage split for paying attention to each other versus wondering if they might be interrupted.
"Lie back for me."
If Addison was not already on the bed, she is certain that how seductive those words sounded as they left the curl of Mark's mouth would have left her weak-kneed. She eases out of his embrace and readjusts herself so that her head is resting on a pillow, her hair fanned out behind her. She nearly shivers when Mark crowds over her.
He moves slowly as he reacquaints himself with her exposed flesh. He scatters kisses along her jawline. Her throat. The sides of her neck. The harder, more pronounced areas of her collarbone and shoulders. He draws her arms over her head so that he can brush his lips against their pale undersides. His mouth moves back to hers next, and then he cycles through the same pattern. He is lying on his side, propped on an elbow, and although he occasionally must shift closer to access certain spots, he is careful for the time being to keep his weight off her, even though she has attempted more than once to guide a leg around him to force his body flush to hers.
The noises Addison is producing are ones of heady encouragement, of wanting more, but Mark sticks with the current pace, and by the time his hands squeeze at the scratchy material cradling her breasts, her chest is flushed and her stomach muscles are tensed with anticipation. He knows he is taking longer to unclasp Addison's bra than she would prefer, but it is worth the delay to hear her gasp when he finally dips his head to bring a nipple into his mouth. Gentle, easy sweeps of his tongue follow. He lowers one of his hands to skim the center of her through what lace remains, but he does not linger there long.
"Mark…please." In general, he is thorough, even when they are not the only ones in their home, but this is excessively slow. He sets a hand on her side, and feels the expansion of her rib cage when she repeats what she just said, though less politely. Her hairline is starting to bead with sweat.
"Be patient." He chuckles at her feeble I can't, and uses an opportunity in between kisses to tug his pants and boxers off for some much-needed relief. He decides not to intervene when Addison takes advantage of his momentary lapse in attention by hiking her hips up so she can wriggle out of her thong. She continues on this more purposeful course when she touches the part of herself he has not expended any energy on yet. Mark lets her do this for a bit, enjoying the visual, and probably offering her silent encouragement by circling a finger around an erect nipple while he observes, but when her breaths start to land close together, he nudges her hand away. He can see her suck in an encouraged gulp of air when he creeps lower, but her frustration is vocalized when the southbound journey turns out to be nothing more than Mark grasping her ankles and lifting her parted legs so he can kiss the flexing muscles of her calves, her knees, her outer thighs.
"This isn't what being married to you is going to be like, right?" Addison asks as he maneuvers his way up her torso at a still-too-slow tempo, this time leaving open-mouthed, wet kisses on her stomach. She is certain she has never felt this filled with desire before. Her limbs are practically vibrating from the buildup and the need for release. The question she poses to Mark is kind of a joke, but also…kind of not a joke. "Having to wait and just be tortured all the time?"
"I promise I'm not trying to torture you." Mark stifles her noise of disagreement when he hovers over her and kisses her, outlining the shape of her mouth. "I'm just…savoring this. Savoring you. All of you." Addison's eyes seem to soften at this confession, and this time she is more mollified when he touches his lips to hers. "Okay. I've made you wait long enough though. No more waiting. Well." He cannot help but smirk as he slides back down her body. "No more waiting for you, at least."
It does not take much once Mark settles between her legs – just a few circles of his thumb and the unbroken rhythm of fingers stretching against over-tensed muscles have Addison coming with a sharp yelp. He removes his fingers, but stays where he is, planting kisses on her inner thighs meant to soothe her. When her limbs are no longer trembling beneath his palms, he buries his face in her. His tongue paints long, deliberately unhurried stripes at first, but when Addison's fingertips comb at his hair, he increases his speed. Gasps and moans fill the room, louder ones than Mark is used to hearing, ones he has maybe even forgotten about. He studies Addison as he continues to work her into a frenzy: the graceful arch in her back, her hands now cupping her breasts, her eyelashes fluttering, her lips parted as she unravels for a second time, keening. Still, Mark stays, not quite ready to end this sequence. It is expansive, far-reaching pleasure, and in periods of rest and recovery, there is just staggered breathing and appreciative murmurs and his head cushioned by her thigh, before he resumes wielding his tongue in deft strokes and coaxing her over the edge again. And then again.
"Hi there." Addison does not respond right away to his greeting; she seems surprised when she opens her eyes and sees how close Mark's face now is to hers. "Was the savoring worth the torture accusations, Red?" He grins when she gives him a dazed, content nod.
"Yeah." The quietness of her voice is a unique contrast to how heavily she is still breathing. "That…that was…that was good."
"Okay, I gotta be honest…I was hoping for a little more than 'good.'"
"Definitely not just 'good.'" Addison twists onto her side, and they resituate themselves on a less-used part of the sheets. "'Fucking mind-blowing' doesn't even do it justice. Highlight reel mind-blowing. It might have been a mistake though." Her shoulders jerk as she fights to keep her eyes open. "This isn't even me justifiably torturing you back. Now I'm…I'm really sleepy. I don't -"
"So sleep. We have the whole weekend."
"You're…" she waves a hand flimsily.
"I'll survive." Mark pulls up the striped duvet they kicked to the edge of the bed earlier; the sweat still clinging to Addison's skin has started to make her cold. He rubs a hand over her shoulder once the duvet is secured around them. "I swear I won't take it too hard…" he waits so she can give him a courtesy smile for the predictable phrasing. "If you need to take a nap." As uncomfortable as Mark currently is, and even though the urge to be inside her and surrounded by her warmth is painfully overpowering, he also can't pretend there isn't something appealing about getting to sink into the deep kind of sleep that no longer seems possible thanks to parenthood.
Addison's eyes slide shut again, and he isn't quite sure if he closes his as an automatic response, or because he might be tired, too…despite how painfully awake certain areas still are. He joins her in slumbering though. And, in the same way Mark cannot say with any certainty just how long he spent touching and tasting Addison, he is also not sure how much time has passed when he wakes up to discover her hand moving along his length.
"Hello, wife."
"Hello, husband." Addison gives him a wicked smile before her lips begin to chart a heated path down his chest. "My turn."
. .
. .
"You were such a good helper at the party today…" Addison says as she adjusts the comforter around Clara's shoulders. Mark was in here first tonight to execute the this-one-then-that-one bedtime routine, while Addison started with their newly minted five-year-old. She wonders if Clara shoved her comforter back down after Mark left, so that Addison could tuck her in again. She watches as Clara half-shrugs about the praise just bestowed upon her. It is true though: Clara was a good helper. She assisted Addison in getting the confetti cupcakes from Magnolia Bakery out of the carefully-packaged boxes to make them more accessible, engaged so sweetly with other children in attendance, and when things were starting to wind down, Clara did not object when Mark asked if she could help him carry out some of the presents to put in the trunk of the car (they specified "no gifts" on the invitations, since Ruby was going to acquire enough new things without contributions from classmates and football buddies, but not everyone was willing to comply with this appeal).
Thinking about Clara's assistance with the presents inevitably makes Addison think of how she and Mark started off the day by giving Ruby the very thing they were least excited to give her: a skateboard. Ruby has been asking for a skateboard for such a long time though, and she did not budge in recent weeks when they tried to make other suggestions about what she might want for her birthday. She has not ridden the skateboard yet (and thus far has adhered to the "you can't ride it in the house" rule), but Mark promised Ruby he would help her tool around the park on it tomorrow. The sparkly helmet will be easy to get her to wear, but the elbow and kneepads they will be forcing on her will be a battle. It is essentially what they expected with this gift though.
But the most unexpected gift? A small package with a Bainbridge Island address on the shipping label arrived Thursday, ahead of Ruby's birthday. Inside was a space shuttle Lego set, and a hand-drawn card from Theo featuring aggressive scribbles. Addison could see the faint penciling under the orange crayon that spelled out T-H-E-O, and felt her throat tighten as she imagined either Derek or Meredith cupping their hand around Theo's fist, and helping him trace the letters.
"I'm really impressed," Addison told Mark after she texted a "thank you" to Derek and Meredith. This observation was not so much for remembering the date, because Ruby passionately shouting at Theo, Derek, and Meredith during a FaceTime call – Free-oh! It's my birthday in one month. It's my birthday on November three – is perhaps a difficult thing to forget in the face of damn near acoustic trauma. The execution part though? Impressive. And not to mention, deeply thoughtful, in a way that forced Addison to take an extra breath before she pressed forward. "I mean, twins and a toddler. Five-day-old NICU twins and a toddler. We definitely didn't have it this together when ours were babies. I missed Naomi's birthday after Ruby was born, and with Clara, Phoebe's present for her second birthday was a last-minute scramble."
"I know it's hard though…" Addison folds a lock of Clara's hair behind her ear as she explains, "When it's your sister's birthday and not yours." It is not about the party itself. Clara had a good time, because she likes indoor play places, but everything from the sheer number of bodies to the loudness to how fearless Ruby's football teammates were (Ruby too, for that matter) when they hurled themselves into the foam pit and ran through the obstacle course without much consideration for the gentler and more cautious-natured children, made this party a "Ruby party." Clara would have hated the…much-ness of it, had all this been designed specifically for her. "When I was little, I used to feel kind of sad when it was Uncle Archer's birthday," Addison says. It is harder still – and she can see it all over her darling girl's face – because Clara is old enough to logically understand that just as Ruby has a special day, she has a special day each year too, so there is no reason to sulk or be jealous. But, Addison has never encouraged her children not to feel something. All their feelings are valid. "I know we have a few more months before your birthday, but -"
"Four."
"That's right. Four months. I'm very, very excited to celebrate your birthday in four months."
"Maybe…maybe for my birthday…" Clara gives her a hopeful smile. "Remember when we went to the place with the tea and the cakes? And the fairy wings?" It might not be much to go off, but Addison understands what her daughter is talking about: Alice's Tea Cup. They went there for the first time last spring, because from what Addison has heard from other mothers, it is a rite of passage for children in the city. It was during soccer season, on one of those "inconvenient days," in that Clara's soccer game was at the earliest possible time, but Ruby's was not until the afternoon. They chipped away at the gap between matches by walking from the soccer field over to the West 73rd location for a bite to eat. At one point during their meal, a group of little girls dressed "fancy" with fake pearls and a sorbet color scheme's worth of tulle skirts swept through the front door with their present-carrying mothers – this was definitely a birthday gathering – and were escorted into the "Raspberry Room." Ruby had been too busy digging into her Nutella crepe to notice, but Clara had gaped with wide-eyed interest as the girls walked by.
"Alice's Tea Cup," Addison tells her. "I remember. Is that where you think you might want to have your birthday party? And we can invite a few of your friends?" Warmth spreads through her when Clara eagerly bobs her head. Addison thinks this is something she would have loved when she was Clara's age, too. "That's such a great idea. We'll talk about it closer to your actual birthday, but we can definitely do that. You know…" she strokes one of Clara's blanket-shrouded arms. "What if we spent some time together tomorrow, just the two of us?" They would technically have time together anyway if they do not accompany Mark and Ruby to the park, but Addison can see how much the way she opted to phrase this suggestion means to Clara. "You can help me run a few special errands." She suppresses a giggle when she sees Clara's eyes narrow in an attempt to tease apart the duality of such wording: the excitement of hearing special, versus the universally dreaded errands. "We have the 'big brother' present for Theo that we're going to put in the mail on Monday, and some clothes for the twins, but we also need to get Theo something for his birthday. He has a November birthday, too." Addison is certain she would have gotten something to send to Theo from Clara and Ruby later this month no matter what, but now she definitely needs to reciprocate, given the arrival of Ruby's gift from Seattle, and it is probably easier to just mail everything in one fell swoop. Mia and Elise remain NICU-confined for the time being, but are continuing to do well. "And then maybe while we're doing some shopping for Theo, we can get you a little something, too. A little something," she repeats when Clara inhales excitedly. Addison knows this makes part of tomorrow's emphasis on the fact that "Ruby got birthday gifts, so Clara should get something, too," which is not something she wants to encourage, let alone implement, but she cannot help it. She and Mark are pretty consistent when it comes to not over-indulging the girls, but Addison uses this moment to reason that even though Clara wants for nothing, she doesn't usually ask for thatmuch, in the grand scheme of things.
"Will you lay down with me?"
"Yes, I'll lie down with you." If Addison thought she was being a total softie over the present thing, then this kicks the softness into overdrive. But this? This is too, too heartfelt of a request to ever dismiss. Babies don't keep, and neither do six-year-olds. She joins Clara under her ballet-themed comforter, and when Clara rolls onto her side, Addison cannot resist pressing her lips to the apple curve of her daughter's cheek and leaving a quick series of pecks, even though she knows exactly how this gesture is going to be received.
"Mom." Clara swipes at her face with the back of her hand, and Addison just laughs.
"You used to love when I did that when you were a baby."
"I'm not a baby anymore. Do you remember when I gave Theo my stuffed giraffe? I kind of…sometimes I kind of wish I still had a giraffe. Maybe tomorrow…?"
"I think we can probably try to find a giraffe after we pick out something for Theo. But right now…it's past your bedtime, love. Let's get some sleep." Addison's palm swirls along Clara's upper back, and she counts the heavy blinks that come next; it never takes her older one long to drift off. But this time, Clara pushes through a wave of impending slumber in favor of more conversation.
"Mommy…" she says, and Addison makes a throat-humming noise of acknowledgement at the same time a pang of wistfulness funnels through her. Clara always falls back to Mommy when she is tired. "What was it like before I was born?" She asks. It is one of those whimsical and sometimes off-the-wall questions that require thinking on Addison's part to carve out an answer. Are we really real, or are we just in a story? How did otters learn to hold hands when they sleep? What does the wind do when it's not windy? Is it always nighttime in outer space?
"Well, life was good before you were born." It is an easy thing for Addison to comment on, given its accuracy. This life with Mark and the girls might be everything, but she has still been able to retain the fonder memories that covered the landscape of her first marriage. So much good existed before the struggles, and the loneliness, and the pain that denoted the end of a marriage and the beginning of a divorce. Addison has the capacity to appreciate both the love she had – even though the cessation of that love and the relationship it supported was less than ideal – and the love she currently has. "Daddy and I were very happy," she shares next, "but life got even better and happier once you were born. And same with Ruby. You're my sun, and Ruby is my moon." Addison cannot explain why this is, or what it even means, but it is something she has always known to be true about the loved ones at the center of her world.
She waits, but there is no response from her sun. Instead, she can hear the shift in Clara's breathing. Sleep has overtaken her, possibly before she even heard any of her mother's answer. Addison remains where she is for a little longer so she can soak in more of these quiet moments; being this close to the warm weight of Clara's sleeping frame reminds her so much of what it felt like when an infant Clara would fall asleep in her arms after nursing.
"She's sleeping now," Addison says to Mark when she finds him in their bedroom, angled lazily against the headboard and probably close to dozing off himself. It is earlier than they would normally turn in for the night, but it feels like they have spent the entire day in motion, so sleep is currently at the top of the list of what Addison wants right now. "She just needed some mommy-daughter time."
"I figured as much. I swear I barely said 'goodnight' to the other one before she passed out…though she did manage to confirm for the seven-hundredth time that I'm going to take her to the park tomorrow. But, you know. She's still the happiest little cult leader out there." He sits up straighter when Addison climbs into bed. "While I was waiting for you…I was doing a little digging, and remember the house we rented in Rockport once? When you were pregnant with Clara?"
"I remember," Addison says. They stayed there for a weekend just days before she signed her divorce papers; it has been a glimmer of light in a really stressful time. "Oh." It takes a beat for the reason Mark is bringing this up to register with her. "Is that…were you thinking of that, maybe, instead of the Hamptons?"
"I'm always up for a weekend in Westhampton with you. The Rockport place is available though, the weekend of the seventeenth." It is just two weeks away, but they have enough of a village knit around them now that securing childcare will not be difficult. "I can book it, if you want. Maybe we could take that Friday off and -"
"Book it."
. .
. .
Five Years Earlier
"This is so much better than when I was pregnant with Clara and I would use an ice pack, or when I started wearing wider and lower heels." Addison makes a face of displeasure over the very thought. "The ocean is the cure for sore feet." She grins when Mark brings her closer, using a steadying palm on the small of her back. She puts her hands on his shoulders for leverage, and wraps her legs around his waist. She can feel the movement of his hips and legs supporting them both as languid waves continue to push and pull around them, but Mark seems perfectly comfortable; she reminds herself they are only a few arm strokes away from being able to feel the roughness of the sea floor beneath them again if they need to exert themselves less. "It has to be. Because this…" she sighs contently when the warmth of her husband's mouth covers her salt-speckled lips. "This is so much better."
So much better. And infinitely more beautiful, too, on their last full day in Westhampton. They closed on the house at the end of September, and on the handful of warm-enough weekends they have been here since then (with Clara, of course), they have done a few walks along Pike's Beach and Cupsogue Beach, but this is their first time actually swimming in the Atlantic here.
"So much better," Mark says, still feeling pleased she wanted to come with him this morning. One night last week, he found Addison rummaging in the walk-in closet for their wetsuits so she could pack them for their honeymoon. He was not surprised she was looking for his, because she knows early morning swims are a nod to some of his better memories with Jenny, and if they are near an open body of water, he is probably going to take advantage of it. Mark was, however, surprised that she was also looking for her wetsuit(one she begrudgingly allowed him to buy for her during an affair-filled weekend in Montauk). Addison likes to swim, but she also does not like being unnecessarily cold, so getting in the ocean when its temperature was at best going to be in the low fifties did not feel like a very "Addison choice." When he brought this up, she agreed she probably would not join him, but was packing the wetsuit "just in case." It was a nice gesture, but Mark would not have minded if she watched from the shore, or slept in while he took the car down Dune by himself. "I didn't think you would end up wanting to do this…" he admits. "I'm so glad you came."
"That's really all I've been doing the past two days."
"Addison." He is almost more taken aback than amused by her statement. She looks proud of herself for this rejoinder, enough so that Mark cannot resist lowering a hand to give the rounded flesh behind her hips a healthy squeeze. "Well, I'm apparently…whatever a non-innuendo way to say 'rubbing off on you,' I guess." His wife – God, his wife – looks exquisite out here, peaceful and fresh-faced as sunlight coats over them, her eyes glittering with happiness beneath lashes split into spiky triangles from wetness. There is a lot Mark cannot see because of the clouded water surrounding them, but he can feel, and the wetsuit she is wearing only serves to emphasize her incredible shape…he definitely plans for what Addison has "been doing the past two days" to be how they will spend the rest of their Sunday when they get back to the house.
"I guess you are," Addison concedes. They trade a few more brisk kisses before she frees her lips from Mark's so that she can tell him, "There's something about us and water. I don't know how to explain it. There's something though. And I…I want to say something else vow-ish to you." She pauses, salt tickling in her throat, and Mark gives her an encouraging nod after they have lifted and dropped with another passing wave. "I just wanted to say that you might have been the one doing the waiting, Mark, but no matter what would have happened between us…" she ends the thought there, but he understands all the runaway scenarios she is not verbalizing. "I need you to know that I would have loved you every day of my life."
. .
. .
"Was it like this last time?" Mark's gaze remains fixed on the skylights covering part of the ceiling as Addison slips into bed next to him. The night sky looks more black than blue at the moment. Stars are gathered in each window. Through the glass on the far left, a shadowed edge of a large elm is quivering in a northeast wind. "I remember the skylights in the main room, but not…" he shakes his head. "Not in here."
Addison can see the pale moonlight marbled on her husband's face as she considers his query. He looks so relaxed, and she thinks she probably does, too – she certainly feels relaxed, at least – but no one manages to "do" relaxed quite like Mark does. His hands are currently folded behind his head, and his expression is a serene one. At present, Addison cannot give a much-enjoyed, specific kind of release of endorphins or oxytocin any credit (or herself credit, by extension) for his current state, because they have been in Rockport for a little over twenty-four hours and have not had sex or enjoyed any of their other favorite accompanying acts yet…which she knows is perhaps not that unique of a feat when it comes to the start of a childfree weekend, but it is for them. They will. That's a given. But somehow they both understood from the moment they grabbed their luggage and ambled up the cold, half-wet steps to retrieve the key from the lock box, that this time together is about reconnecting; getting more sleep than they normally would get at home and just embracing a general stillness have been more important than the unrestrained sex they would typically be having in a situation like this. Not that there hasn't been contact, of course. Tiny moments of intimacy that expose what it means to have created a profound connection are sustaining them. They cuddled last night while they slept. Her fingers brushed against his when she passed him a coffee mug this morning. She sat between his legs today when they went to an overcast Front Beach, the two of them surrounded by a thick blanket. Mark's lips were briefly in her hair when they were in one of the shops in Bearskin Neck, picking out souvenirs for Clara and Ruby. They had a long shower together after dinner, a bundle of fragrant eucalyptus hanging over them as they took turns massaging each other with a foamy body wash. And, although it does not involve physical touch, it stirs every part of Addison when he glances at her and smiles.
"I think it was like this, yeah," she tells him. Something about the weariness of the angled beams against the brightness of the glass feels familiar to her. "You know what I just realized? That couple from the beach…"
Mark rolls over to face her, balanced on an elbow. "What about them?" They had been utterly blissed out, taking pleasure in the rich, salty scent of the ocean, when they spotted a young couple – an estimated mid to late twenties, which feels so young to them now – approaching. The woman had a phone clutched in her hand, and they were walking in a way that indicated they were debating whether to interrupt. It was clear what they were coming over for though, and by the time they arrived, Mark was already starting to get to his feet before the couple could even ask if either he or Addison would mind taking a picture of them.
"I forgot we had someone take a picture of us at that beach, too, when I was pregnant with Clara," Addison continues. The woman from this morning had looked like she was somewhere in the six to seven-month range of pregnancy. "Our first family picture." It was not just because Addison had set a hand on her stomach to include a still-developing Clara, though that was important, but because it was the first picture of she and Mark as a family, too. She supposes they were a family before the picture by the foamy shoreline – sometimes it feels like they have been a family forever, actually – but it was still significant to have that moment captured. "I mean, I know we have the picture…" she begins to laugh. It is on multiple devices if you are willing to do a lot of scrolling to find it, and there is a framed copy that followed them from the apartment to their current home. "But I forgot I knew that we had the picture."
"I get what you're saying. I actually told them we took a picture here, too. She mentioned she was due in February, and I said we took a picture on this beach when we were expecting our first one. And it turned out this is their first, too. I told them to enjoy it, because it…" the look on Mark's face is a little sad when he lifts a hand to drag his knuckles along the square of her jawline. "It just goes so fast."
"It really does."
. .
. .
Four Years Earlier
Mark smiles as he takes a glimpse at the picture Addison just texted him of his three girls piled together on the bed. It is a lock screen worthy one, and if he were not so close to the front of the line, he would go ahead and make the change to his phone right now. Addison looks beautiful in the shot, and a little less sleepy-eyed than she was when he left her. Clara and Ruby are both looking at the camera, and apparently remained still long enough that none of their limbs have blurred edges, which is a near-impossible feat as far as Mark is concerned, especially with the younger one. Ruby is smiling in the way she usually does these days, with her tongue nestled between her lips.
Proof that sometimes I'm wrong fills the screen shortly after Mark has had a chance to see the picture. He considers that in this particular circumstance, the reason Clara and Ruby woke up while he is at their family's favorite bakery to place an order – blueberry cream cheese muffins, two cappuccinos, and a black and white cookie to split with Addison and Clara later – is not because of wrongness, but more because fate was tempted. Just go, Addison said when they were lying in bed this morning and talking about what they wanted for breakfast. Mark expressed a willingness to wait until the girls were awake before going to get the food and coffee, so that he could maybe take one with him (Clara, most likely), or if he went solo, to at least make sure Addison was settled with them first. But, she was insistent that he go before the bakery line started to get too long. The girls won't be up until closer to seven.
When Mark makes it home, the non-screen version of the picture he is faced with when he peeks into the bedroom is even better. Addison looks like the very image of maternal bliss with Ruby snuggled in her arms, and Clara seated next to her on the bed. Clara is busy moving a few of her little stuffed ducks around, and is doing an admirable job of including her sister in the process. She has "grown" so much as a big sister in the past few months; she will no longer jockey for a position in Addison's lap while Ruby is being fed or held. Being close – albeit, extremely close – is now enough.
"Wow," Mark deadpans. "Today of all days…neither of you could have been cool about this?" His question makes Addison laugh, and the teasing quality in his tone has his daughters both beaming in the same scrunch-nosed way, even though neither understands what he means. "Hi, Clara -"
"Ruby cry." Clara looks thrilled to announce this. She has only had a sibling for five months, but she has the routine down when it comes to information sharing. Especially information that might not paint her sister in the best light.
"Yeah, babies usually cry when they wake up." Mark gets into bed on Clara's other side. He opens his arms when she scoots into his lap, wanting a brief hug, and after she has wriggled away, he extends a hand to stroke Ruby's hair, now so much darker than it was when she was born. "So…" he looks at Addison. "I have something for you."
"We agreed -"
"I know," he interrupts. Tonight, they are having dinner at Arabelle and spending the night at the Athénée to celebrate one year of marriage. Addison told him she wouldn't say no to flowers, if he wanted to get her some – and he did, and they're scheduled to be delivered later this morning – but they agreed nothing else. They know they will always be busy, but this feels like a particularly busy season, and Addison is still adjusting to being a working mom again. She wouldn't trade any of this for anything, but she hardly feels like there is time to properly exhale most days, let alone give serious thought to what would be a nice gift for her husband for their anniversary.
"This is actually just something I'm giving back to you," Mark says before she can protest further. He might not be a perfect husband, and it might not be a perfect marriage, but he does listen to his wife and respect her boundaries. "The jeweler called me a few days ago…" he leans to the side to collect a velvet box from the drawer of his nightstand. "Your ring was ready."
"This ended up being timed extremely well." Addison's appearance has completely softened with love when Mark turns back to face her. A flutter of excitement starts to build in the base of her stomach.
"It did. I swung by there Wednesday during my lunch hour, but I figured I'd just wait until today to give it to you." He knows he could have waited for tonight, but offering the engagement ring back to Addison now feels appropriate; everything that matters is right here beside him. Clara and Ruby are too occupied with the ducks at the moment to give their parents any notice, but it still means something to Mark to have them present for this. He opens the box, and Addison quietly exclaims over how beautiful the new topaz stone is.
"Yeah, it turned out great. So…you still want to be married, right?" He jokes, which makes her laugh again and nod. "How did it go, what we repeated for the clerk…? The weird declaring bit, and then…I promise to love, honor…"
"Cherish and keep you for as long as we both shall live," she finishes.
"Yeah, that. So…will you unofficially marry me again, Addison Montgomery?"
"I would love to," Addison says when he grasps her left hand. "And will you unofficially marry me again?"
"Absolutely, yes."
. .
. .
December looks how it always looks: magical, with a side of chaos that is managed passably well. Today could have been ripe for chaos, given the presence of family members who descended upon the Montgomery-Sloan household mid-morning for an early Christmas celebration, but things have somehow gone smoothly. Conversations were pleasant, the girls were on their best behavior, presents that were opened were met with favorable reactions, and Archer kept some of his more colorful dalliances as of late to himself. And now, after a generally non-chaotic day, everyone is preparing to depart: Archer to Chelsea to meet a few friends for drinks, while being a bit vague about his plans for his remaining time in New York before he catches a flight to Boston; Everett to his hotel room at the Lowell; and the Captain, Bizzy, and Gwen back to Greenwich. The last three leave for Salzburg in two days' time, and Addison does not pretend to understand how this arrangement works, or why her father does not seem to feel like a third wheel with his separated-but-still-living-together-wife and her girlfriend, but all three parties seem happy, so she does not question it.
After goodbyes are exchanged, Mark helps Addison's parents and Gwen bring a few items down to the car where their chauffeur is waiting, and when he reenters the duplex, he swears he can still hear the increased volume in voices, not unlike the way you can still hear the ocean after leaving the beach. It is entirely in Mark's head though. His dad is still in the house, but Everett is soft-spoken, and at the moment the girls (okay, specifically Ruby) are apparently following his lead. Everett's departure has been temporarily delayed so that Clara and Ruby can show him where they put their new ornaments on the small artificial Christmas tree they have in their respective rooms. In addition to other presents, Everett always gives the girls each an ornament for Christmas. Something about it is so painfully sweet that each year Mark can feel emotion briefly prickle in his throat when Everett hands the girls two same-sized boxes; he thinks Jenny would have loved to pick out ornaments for her granddaughters.
"Gwen is great." Addison can see that Mark has one hand clutched around the mail he collected from the mailroom after walking her family out, and she knows he was probably only half-paying attention when he returned to the kitchen, but he refocuses at the sound of her voice. They will catch up much more later, after his dad has left and the girls are asleep, but she is eager to share her initial thoughts no matter how limited their time is right now, and hopes to find out his, too. Gwen is not who she would have envisioned for her mother, if she took the time to consider – as odd as it still is – what sort of women Bizzy might "like." Gwen was sporty and athletic-looking, dressed casually in jeans and a fleece vest. Her short, raven-colored hair was pulled back in a loose ponytail, which rounded out a low-maintenance look that was the polar opposite of an always-perfectly-coiffed Bizzy. Gwen was mindful how she acted around Bizzy since Clara and Ruby do not know anything about where things stand between their maternal grandparents, but Addison could still see the affection with which Gwen regarded her mother. She put her hand briefly on Bizzy's back when they were in the living room talking. She nudged Bizzy's shoulder when she said something that made her laugh – she made Bizzy laugh. She refilled Bizzy's glass of wine before Bizzy could even mention that she needed to refresh her drink. She gave Bizzy a warm smile and told her "those are definitely your colors" after Clara handed Bizzy a purple and blue rubber band bracelet to wear.
But as far as Gwen not being who Addison imagined…it is an observation, not a judgment, since it is not like her own life is what Bizzy envisioned for her years ago – specifically, how she came to have this life. But, Bizzy does seem happy for her, and although she will never be a "warm and fuzzy" mother or grandmother, Addison knows Bizzy loves her, and she definitely loves her granddaughters. And, most significantly, Bizzy is trying. She had told Addison that she, Gwen, and the Captain were not going to be available the weekend before Christmas – when Addison and Mark always have family over – so maybe they could get together on the second Saturday of the month instead. It was thoughtful; the Bizzy "of old" would have just briskly informed Addison she was spending most of December in a hotel overlooking the Salzach River, and would therefore be unable to see her.
"Yeah, she's great," Mark agrees. "I liked her a lot." Gwen was very nice, and was also good with the girls, natural and engaged in a way that seemed to demonstrate she has spent time around young children. She brought Christmas presents for Clara and Ruby, and sat with them while they made Rainbow Loom bracelets for a period of time that extended beyond just basic politeness. "Red, look…" he holds an envelope out to her. "It's from Seattle."
Addison digs a finger under the flap and opens the envelope to find a photo card of Theo, Mia, and Elise, with a festive Happy Holidays! printed in green below the picture of them. She sets it on the center island as she looks at it, with Mark standing by her side. All three kids are lying on a blanket, and the picture is taken from above. Theo is in the middle, looking every bit the part of a proud big brother while his sisters – now home and thriving – sleep beside him in matching knit outfits. Addison sent Derek and Meredith a simple black and white picture of Clara and Ruby earlier in the month (she is borderline excessive about getting cards out as early in December as possible), but she wasn't expecting anything in return, especially this quickly, given how busy Derek and Meredith must be with three small children at home. They also do not necessarily strike Addison as the kind of couple who "does" Christmas cards, but there is a lot she probably does not know about Meredith, and plenty of things to either learn or re-learn about Derek, too. She thinks she might get the chance, sometime; she and Mark have talked about visiting Seattle next summer.
That was not the only Shepherd-related card Addison put in the mail though. She and Mark grabbed a pack of generic-looking holiday cards at a grocery store and later filled them out with a simple, Love, Addison, Mark, Clara (6), and Ruby (5). Then, they took a deep breath, and sent them off to Carolyn, and Derek's sisters. Addison has decided not to expect anything in return – whether it be a card or some other form of communication. In the event that she does receive word from any of the Shepherds other than Derek and Amelia though as she continues to work on bringing the emotional drawbridge she and Mark built together all the way down, she will just be pleasantly surprised.
"Hey, Rubes…" Mark says when his younger daughter comes into the kitchen. He can hear movement on the staircase; Clara and his dad are not far behind. "Look…it's Free-oh and his sisters."
"Wait." Ruby's voice is sharp as she stares at him. "I thought his name was Theo."
"Oh." Mark briefly presses his lips together. "It...it is."
"Theo," she repeats confidently. She studies the card for a few moments, and then Clara comes over to admire it as well.
"Guess what?" Clara says after Mark has added the picture to a greeting card holder they hang on the wall this time of year to display the cards they get. He can remember when Addison – so many things had her in anxious, heartbroken tears their first December together – expressed that because of what we did, they were never going to be the recipients of many holiday cards. This is not true though. Not anymore, at least. Mark knows that by the end of the month, the swath of fabric is going to be sagging under the weight of all the cards. "Grandpa said me and Ruby can sleep at his hotel tonight."
"Actually, Clara asked if they could," Everett clarifies. Mark and Addison extend an offer to Everett to stay with them whenever he visits, but he always insists he is fine at a hotel; Mark figures that his dad is just too used to having his own space. "I said it was up to you guys though. The room has a sofa bed, so there's plenty of room for them."
Ruby gives Everett a pointed look. "And you said -"
"I did also let slip that there's brownies and ice cream on the room service menu." Everett grins weakly, and Addison finds herself smiling back at him. Room service is the height of luxury as far as her daughters are concerned. "You could have a night off…" Everett's suggestion is a gentle one, and it just makes Addison's smile lengthen. "You deserve it. And we could eat at the hotel tomorrow, if you guys want." They were planning to have breakfast together anyway before Mark takes Everett to Penn Station to catch the Amtrak back to Syracuse, so other than the slight tweak in location, nothing has changed on that front. The idea of having a night without the children is a change though…and a welcome one. Addison and Mark nod in approval – perhaps too eagerly and too quickly – when Everett assures them he would love to have the girls a little longer.
They divide and conquer when just the two of them are left in the home. Mark handles the rest of the kitchen cleanup, feeds the fish, makes sure the lights on the girls' Christmas trees have been turned off, and then texts his dad to confirm everything is going okay. Addison brings the presents the girls left strewn in the living room into the playroom, puts fresh hand towels in the guest bathroom, and – as insane as it sounds, except to her it is very much not insane– checks to make sure Ruby's skateboard is still on its portable stand so that she can verify her daughter did not sneak it into her suitcase after Addison helped her pack for a night at the hotel.
It is enough of a separation task-wise that when Mark comes back downstairs, fully expecting to be reunified with Addison in the living room or the kitchen, he is surprised to instead discover her lying on a spare comforter on the floor in the gallery room, near the Christmas tree.
"I guess I missed the memo on -" he begins.
"Just for a little bit…" Addison is certain her neck and back could not do an entire night on the floor. She adjusts herself a little on her pillow so that she can look at Mark over her shoulder. "I just love this time of year so much."
"I know you do." And so does he. More than he could have ever thought possible. "What I was actually going to say though was that I apparently missed the memo on what time we're putting pajamas on tonight." Addison is still in the ribbed sweater and gray wool pants she has had on all day, but Mark is now in Christmas pajamas. Every December, Addison picks up a few pairs of Christmas pajamas for each member of the Montgomery-Sloan family. The females in the home do complete sets, but for Mark it is just the bottoms, which makes it tolerable. He is a merrier person than he used to be, but he still is not a "holiday pajamas person." Addison, Clara, and Ruby distinctly are those people though, which settles it, because what wouldn't he do for his three loves?
"I really like that pair on you," Addison says in reference to the blue pants with scarf-wearing polar bears that Mark is wearing. She turns back over when he dims the lights at the bottom of the staircase; the flames behind the fireplace screen and the twinkling colored lights on the Christmas tree keep the room relatively well lit. "Hey…" she adds when Mark lies down behind her and loops an arm over her waist. "Has your broken heart recovered from Ruby pronouncing Theo's name correctly?"
"No, it hasn't, and thank you for breaking it all over again by bringing it up." He presses his cheek against hers, knowing his stubble will tickle her and make her laugh. When he pulls away, he can see the lights from the Christmas tree still faintly casting a multihued glow on his wife's cheek. It briefly draws Mark's attention to the top of the tree, where Jenny's star is. Looking at it triggers a memory from earlier this afternoon, so he tells Addison, "When I was talking with my dad today…he mentioned that he's actually thinking of moving a little closer. He and Jenny lived in Brooklyn for a while before they moved upstate. So maybe there." Mark knows it is significant that his dad would even consider selling the house – Jenny's house.
"That would be really nice, if he moved here," Addison says. Everett might not have been a great father to Mark growing up – and therapy has helped Mark to address and heal most of the lingering hurt he has felt over this – but he has always been a great grandpa to the girls. And it would be wonderful to have him closer. "Speaking of moving here…" she is sure Mark can spot the crease at the corner of her mouth as she plots out something humorous to share. "Archer also told me he was -"
"Don't even joke about that."
They are quiet for a while, reveling in the peacefulness surrounding them, and the soothing warmth from the crackling fire. It occurs to Addison how perfect everything feels right now. Their lives are definitely not perfect, and neither is their relationship. They have challenges just like any other couple, and certainly bicker and have to take deep breaths and try again, and there are times that having a solid marriage feels much more like practice than it does a performance, but in this moment, everything feels unequivocally perfect.
"Still awake, bunny?" Mark whispers.
"Mm-hmm." She is sleepy and warm, but not that sleepy just yet. Especially not when the house is sans children. "We did this, the first year that we were real." She knows Mark knows what she means. "We slept in front of the tree one night at the apartment. You dragged the mattress out." She turns to her other side so that she can see him.
"Yeah. I remember." He drops a hand to her hip, and when she grins to convey interest, he moves his hand under her soft sweater to touch even soften skin. "I think…" he kisses her then, taking great care to brush his tongue against hers. "I think we did this, too." He is certain they did, and if Addison doesn't remember – though he is sure she does – it's them, so it's a safe bet that this ended up being on the agenda that night, too. "Maybe I should remind you though…?"
"Yes, you should."
It is comfortingly rhythmic for Addison when he moves inside her later. She locks her legs tighter around him, and continues to explore the ropy muscles of his back. It feels almost dreamlike each time Mark rolls his hips against hers, except that she knows it is real, it is so damn real, because nothing that feels this incredible could ever be a dream. She can hear him panting near her ear as he thrusts, and then he practically growls when he tells her, I can't get enough of you. She knows. And, frankly, it has always been a very, very mutual feeling. It is how it started, and why it continued, and, thankfully, it has never ceased.
It still means so much to hear it though.
"Happy." Addison thought she just said it in her head, but when Mark pauses to look at her, she realizes she must have said it aloud. He raises a hand to cup the top of her head, fingertips gentle as they massage her scalp. "So happy," she whispers, eyes now shining.
"Me too." He keeps still, giving it a little time so that her emotions can ease. Nothing will feel better than the final crescendo and getting to hear all those sexy noises Addison tries to suppress when they are not the only ones under this roof, but he cannot find any fault with their current situation, either. The heat of her feels so good around him, and he knows each answering throb between her legs has to feel good for her, too.
Mark busies himself with leaving light kisses on her face until her hand pushes against the wall of his chest. He takes the hint and they switch their positions. Addison straddles his thighs and sinks back down so he can fill her again, and she releases a luscious groan when he does. The tempo picks up as she rocks forward and backward against Mark's thighs, and although she slows for a moment when he arches up to kiss her, it does not take long for either of them to reach an explosive finish.
They collect themselves bit by bit once they are no longer gasping for breath. Mark puts his pants and thermal shirt back on, and shuts off the electric fireplace while he waits for Addison. She decides to throw today's outfit into the tub of the washing machine along with the comforter, and when she comes back into the gallery, now close to shivering, she covers herself with a thin, child-sized blanket plucked from a basket beside the sofa (guilt is definitely going to make her put it through the washer twice when she is done using it).
Mark pauses when they reach the bottom of the staircase. "Ladies first."
"Are you being polite, or do you just want to enjoy the view?"
"I don't see why they're mutually exclusive, Addison."
He holds firm in his belief that both things are correct, but the visual of Addison going up the stairs in a blanket that barely falls past her swaying hips is pretty amazing, and when she looks back at him and purposely flicks her hair over her shoulder, flirting, it is clear she knows the effect she is having on him. It makes the process of reaching the second floor a gradual one, and by step number nine the blanket has fallen down and Mark keeps her warm with his hands instead, providing her with enough attention that they end up remaining on the stairs for several more minutes. The attention in deliberately-chosen places leaves Addison with limited remaining strength, and although she protests in the form of a shriek when Mark scoops her up, she relaxes in his embrace and allows him to carry her. They make it to the shower in one piece, and after the water reenergizes them, they indulge in each other again, ready for one more pleasure-teemed release…or a third, Mark realizes in the case of his wife.
Once they are freshly cleaned and dried off, Addison puts on pajamas that match Mark's. He texts his dad one more time to check in, and she feels reassured and now fully ready for bed when Mark tells her the report back is that the girls passed out around nine, bellies full of ice cream and brownies. Addison sighs sleepily when Mark wraps his arms around her. She can feel the quiet rumble of his chest when he tells her goodnight.
"Sleep well…"
Her voice is soft as velvet when she says back, "I don't know how I ever couldn't with you."
Sunday contains more magic with a side of passably well-managed chaos. They spend most of the afternoon outside, enjoying an unseasonably warm day in Central Park, followed by dinner at their favorite pizza place. It feels more like a habit than it does deliberate contemplation on the way home when Addison and Mark both make a right turn where they would normally turn left though, without voicing the thought or even sharing a quick glance. A longer way home means the four of them can see the decorations lining a row of townhouses a few blocks from their building, but it was not something previously discussed. Addison looks over at Mark when she realizes what they have done, and when Clara and Ruby – each holding a parent's hand and utterly bemused over the sudden bout of laugher beneath the flood of a street light – ask what's so funny, neither Addison nor Mark really has an answer. It's not funny-funny, anyway. It's more just…funny-fitting that it happened, that this is the coordinated path they are currently walking, even though it was not planned. There are just so many longitudes and latitudes that now connect the life they have made together.
"Can we go to Biker Heights next?"
Mark gives Ruby a small smile when she poses this question. He wonders – and hopes, honestly – if she will stick with Biker Heights rather than Dyker Heights a little longer than the four months that Free-oh was a part of her vocabulary. "We'll go there another time and see the lights," he tells her. "I promise. We're going to stay on this side of the bridge tonight."
The neighborhood they are wandering through appears to have been completely transformed as the city settles further into December. Seasonal greenery is woven around railings. Snow-tipped wreaths and bells hang from front doors. There are a few Christmas trees visible in front windows. There are stoops with holiday-themed doormats, light-up decorations, and candy cane and snowman yard stakes jammed into pots. Addison points out an iron-framed duck with a Santa hat on one of the stoops – Clarabelle, look at that – but her daughter's half-hearted assessment of it being "kind of cute" is a combination of no longer possessing over-the-top enthusiasm about ducks, and also being tired. Clara's steps are becoming slower now. It has been a long weekend, and it is starting to show on her. Addison thinks that Clara will hang in there for a bit longer, but eventually, either she or Mark will have to pick her up and carry her the rest of the way. Same with Ruby, who at present, touches Mark's wrist to get his attention again.
"Then where are we going next?"
Mark and Addison look at each other, poised to answer at the same time.
"Home."
. .
. .
References/Nods to Various Episodes/Very Long Author's Note:
Just one reference: "So no trout for you then." Derek to Addison, Grey's 2x13. I felt so compelled to fit this line in somewhere, for no particular reason. There's also a 30 Rock reference in the chapter, and I'm not sorry about it.
To quote drunken Addison: "It's ovvvver."
The title of this work was a combination of three things: 1) in Greek mythology, Atlas was a titan condemned to hold up the sky on his shoulders for all eternity. Addison and Mark had to carry a lot of weight due to their actions, both during and after the affair, and they lost a lot in the process (though they did gain things, and in the end, gained things back, too). And as far as condemnation, if you watched Private Practice, you know we were smacked over and over with the narrative that Addison was a cheating cheater and her fertility struggles were karma for not being ready when Derek wanted to have kids, and for having an abortion when she found herself pregnant with Mark's baby. And that narrative – how long it dragged on, specifically, and how PP was sort of devised to be Addison's "redemption arc," which, barf – is silly. You can do something bad (to be clear: cheating, not terminating a pregnancy), and not be any less worthy of love and good things. Most mistakes do not make you irredeemable. 2) The band Sleeping At Last has a series of EPs that include "Atlas" as a title. I included some of their songs and/or lyrics as chapter titles – I tried to give every chapter a nature-ish kind of title (there were a few that were more action-based than outright nature elements though). And, 3) the poem below, by Warsan Shire, which I really like:
later that night
i held an atlas in my lap
ran my fingers across the whole world
and whispered
where does it hurt?
It answered
everywhere
everywhere
everywhere.
This fic ended up being nothing like I imagined. I originally wanted it to be more of a self-destruct then continue to destruct fic, but I changed course because I enjoyed creating backstories for Mark and Addison, both building off the existing things we know, and creating my own things, along with some canonical twists. These are two people who had same-but-different upbringings, and a few personality traits that tie them together; they probably could have been a viable couple if certain circumstances were right at exactly the right time.
In addition to exploring how Mark and Addison could build a healthy, loving relationship, I wanted to write about how painful it is to untie your life from someone else's. It was my goal in writing this fic to make sure each character was nuanced, and that includes Derek. Although I poked at a few of Derek's flaws (both as a person and as Addison's husband), I tried to do the same with Addison, but in a way that didn't diminish the relationship Addison and Derek had. I also ship Addek, if that wasn't clear – as the brilliant winter_machine (shaaaameless plug: keep an eye out for a co-written fic from us in the coming months) once said, "If Addison couldn't choose, why should we?"
The final thing I wanted was to bring the trio back together. I am a sucker for Mark/Addison/Derek stories. I was convinced these three could only find their way back to one another because of a crisis, and I loved the idea of it being for something medical (and I especially liked incorporating TTTS, since that is how we originally met Addison).
Thank you for taking this crazy journey with me. I have enjoyed getting to read your thoughts. I've got other fic ideas in the works, but I am not opposed to revisiting the Atlas universe again if the time/scenario was right. Thanks again! I am so grateful for your enthusiasm for this could-have-been-good-together-and-it-wasn't-a-game ship. And with that said…darlingwrecks, OUT.
