TW: brief suicide discussion/reference to. Chapter title is a lyric from the song "Hearts," by Juliette Commagere. Jesus, this was a long one…longer than I intended, but there was a lot of dialogue to cover, and a lot to explore. In a few sections my writing weaves in and out of present/earlier in the week, but it should be easy enough to follow. Hope you enjoy!
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Chapter 39. Sway With the Motion
"Hi," Addison greets when she passes through the reception door that opens into Lynette's workspace. The two women have a perfectly orchestrated routine now for the one or two days a week Addison is able to escape the sterilized halls of NYP for a more proper, sit-down lunch with Mark. She will offer Lynette a small wave when she slips inside the suite that holds the practice, and Lynette will in turn stretch a hand forward to activate the console button to unlock the door separating the reception area from the remainder of the office. Addison appreciates the routine immensely. It is much easier – and more comfortable – than when Lynette served as a stern, Gandalf-like gatekeeper throughout the winter and early spring, compelling her to have to approach the Plexiglas each time and awkwardly ask if Mark was available. But, since she and Mark have become real, the passage from the public area of the practice to the restricted one has become easier to navigate, both physically and mentally. "It's nice to see you, Lynette." Addison nudges the door shut behind her. "Mark texted and said he's running a little late, so is it okay if I just -"
"Go on back." Lynette inclines her head in the direction of the hallway where Mark's office is located. "He should be …" Lynette's eyes briefly dart towards a pink desk clock. "He should be back any minute now, actually. One of his consults ran long, but he still wanted to hit up the bodega so he wouldn't have to do it after work. Something about orange juice."
"Right. I've been drinking it by the gallon lately. Well…" Addison fidgets a little, a heel pointed towards the hallway, making her intended farewell clear. She and Lynette really do not converse much other than a hello, How are you?, and sometimes a comment about the heat (scorching lately, especially for Addison, thanks to an increased amount of blood in her body). Their exchanges are usually all of ten seconds before Mark makes an appearance. "I'll just -"
"Wait." Lynette angles towards her, rolling in her swivel chair. "I've been meaning to tell you – and I know it's early, so I'm sure you haven't begun to think about a nanny or daycare yet – but I just wanted to say if there's ever a day where something falls through childcare-wise, I'd be happy to watch the baby here." Lynette lifts her thumb over her shoulder, where a few framed photos of (Addison assumes) family members are visible to the right of her monitor. "Rowan usually comes once or twice a month for a few hours, and I'm sure it'll be the same with his baby brother…he's due to arrive next month. Anyway. I just wanted you to know that."
"Oh. Thank you," Addison answers softly. She can feel her throat tightening, like a rope getting tugged on. It has been an emotional year anyway, but the pregnancy hormones certainly do not help when it comes to how strongly she tends to feel things.
A question is inside her now, scaling its way up the rope. Addison considers herself to be strong, and not-so-easily intimidated, but Lynette has always made her a bit nervous. The woman has been friendly to Addison since June or so, and even before that, while Lynette might have been unsociable, and maybe dismissive, she certainly wasn't cold or cruel. The element of uncomfortableness should just be because Lynette has always known everything about the affair, but there is something more to it, too, Addison believes. Maybe it is because Lynette is almost old enough to be her mother, or to have been her teacher. Most of their interactions have prompted in Addison the same feeling of anxiety she would get in school when it became clear in the overview of the assignment that her teacher was going to ask everyone to "partner up," and what if no one wanted to be her partner?
"Hey…Lynette?" Addison draws in a short breath. "I was wondering if…I was wondering if you'd like to get lunch with me sometime?" It does indeed feel like being back in school for Addison, hoping someone likes her enough to be her partner without the teacher having to direct her towards an already-perfectly-happy pair that will now become three, or the other primary source of panic that colored her younger years: reading out loud, a new paragraph for each student, row by row. Addison would calculate her position ahead of time, and quickly skim her future paragraph in preparation, wanting to practice the words under her breath to make sure she could deliver the material perfectly. Not because she struggled with reading – quite the opposite. She knew all the words, but because of her speech impediment, some of her spoken words sounded funny coming out of her mouth. And hearing giggles in an otherwise silent classroom is an incredibly painful, isolating experience. "And Mark," she adds quickly. "Mark would be there, too."
The corners of Lynette's lips tweak up, the beginning hint of a smile. "What are you guys doing the weekend after this one?" She asks.
"Oh, I don't think we have anything planned. We'll be around."
"How about you come over? I'll make dinner; you can pick what night. Larry will be gone – he and the boys always do a fishing trip to Oneida Lake this time of year. And thirty-three years of marriage has left me clinically incapable of cooking for one. You'll just have to let me know what you'd like to eat. I'm a really good cook." Lynette raises an amused eyebrow when Addison immediately demurs, insisting she is not picky, and will eat anything. A pregnant woman with no opinions on food. Right. "I'll make sure I ask Mark what he's in the mood for, too," Lynette charitably tacks on.
The conversation lifts Addison up, and after lunch with Mark, it serves as her motivation to call Archer on her walk back to NYP. It is not like she is expecting a poor response from her brother, but it still feels daunting to share something that is such A Big Deal. And outside of Savvy and Derek (and Lynette, but Mark was the one who told her), Addison hasn't shared their news with anyone. This disclosure will be different in terms of wants, too. Addison wanted to tell Savvy she was pregnant when she took the test back in June, but she was not sure if she wanted to have a baby then. She wanted to have a baby (this baby), but she did not want to have to tell Derek – it was more about just owing him the truth. But when Archer answers on the second ring, Addison realizes that this will be the first time she is telling someone the news because she wants to tell them and because she herself is happy about the news.
"I'm going to be an uncle," Archer says at a dragged-out pace, as though trying out the words. Addison can hear the pop of his chuckle as she turns onto East 70th. "Addie, I'm too young to be an uncle."
"You are not," Addison counters, picking out the affection in his voice underneath the bantering whine. "If I'm not too young to be a mother, then you're not too young to be related to someone with a baby. Although you will be another year older when the baby arrives, since you have a fall birthday. But you have time to adjust. I'm not due until early March."
"Early March, huh? Well, there goes my trip to Zihuatanejo."
Addison slows her pace, a little confused. "What do you mean?"
"I have a friend who has a timeshare there. I always go with a few friends the first or second week in March and -"
"You can still -"
"- I'm not meeting my niece or nephew for the first time over FaceTime. Man, I'm going to spoil the crap out of this kid. A pony? Yes. One of those mini battery-powered Bentleys? Yes. Sleep with or bribe an admissions director to make sure the application process goes smoothly for whatever private school you want? Consider it done."
"Archer…" Addison shakes her head, laughing. "No to all of those things. Especially the potential Trinity or Brearley scandal."
"Fine, but I at least have to be there when you teach your kid to ride a bike. I don't trust you with that."
"I don't trust myself with that either after that day in the vineyard," Addison agrees, both of them now grinning at the memory. "But I'm pretty sure Mark can ride a bike downhill just fine."
"So if you're due in March, then you're…?"
"Eleven weeks pregnant. I don't really…I mean, I can tell that I look pregnant, for sure, but mostly it just looks like I hit some bacon cheeseburgers too aggressively and now I'm bloated." Addison understands the science behind the timeline for her developing figure, but truthfully, the burger explanation is simpler. All of a sudden, she looked down one day and saw the smallest curve protruding from her middle, one that she swore was not there when she went to bed the night before. And now certain outfits are too tight, which prompted a trip to several flagship stores to purchase looser-fitting blouses and skirts. Some maternity bras were picked up while on Fifth too, because her breasts are fuller now, basically straining through the previous cup size attempting to contain them. And while Addison still might not look visibly pregnant to the outside world just yet, she is steadily growing, and because she is tall and lean, she knows any additional weight on her is going to be obvious. It will not be much longer until other people take notice.
"Okay, well now you're just making me want a burger."
"Ha. Sorry. But, thank you, for being happy for me. I'm really glad I told you."
"Me too. This is going to be great, Addie. And you'll be an awesome mom. Here's the bigger question though…have you told our parents yet?"
No. Not yet.
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"Would you mind if I asked you to wait in our room?" Addison asks Mark the next evening, wiggling her phone in her closed hand. "I want you to be here, but I just…I know if you're next to me, I'm going to look at you and want you to do some sort of 'knight in shining armor' thing while I have this conversation with Bizzy, and I need to be able to power through it and make sure I use my words."
Addison was prepared to put the call off for a bit longer – save it for this Friday, or Saturday – but the early part of the week has been so good. Tentative plans for dinner with Lynette, telling Archer about the baby, and finalizing a day for Savvy to come over with Phoebe. Addison does not expect things to keep being good once she calls Bizzy, but the goodness of Monday and Tuesday has somehow translated into the push she needs to rip off the bandage.
Mark nods at her request. "Sure," he agrees. "I guess I could use the time to check out some football stuff. Just…holler if you need me."
He does not think he will actually be able to focus on doing any sort of preparation for an upcoming draft – and surely Addison knows this – but it still feels weird to just sit at the edge of their bed and not pretend he has something to keep him busy while she calls her mother. Mark bites back a laugh when he hears Addison shout out something about picking up a running back early (clearly just parroting something he has said). The subject (which, realistically, is of zero interest to Addison) came up last night when Mark showed her a text he received from Charlene: Hey! Are you able to do 9:30 next Thurs? The trauma surgeons asked to push the time back.
"Fantasy football draft," Mark explained when Addison looked at him, clearly trying to figure out what event or outing this was in reference to. "There's twelve of us. Mostly from NYP, but there are two from Montefiore, too. And the handful of trauma surgeons in our league just love to act like they're busier than the rest of us. Your chief of surgery acts that way, too, now that I think about it. Which is a lot of attitude for someone who has never finished higher than fifth."
"I sure hope you're not showing me this because you want my help selecting your team," Addison responded, a playful smile creeping over her face.
"No. I just wanted you to know since it's a text from Charlene and all. This is the only one since…you know, June."
"I believe you. And I trust you. Thank you though, for wanting to tell me. You want me to go pick out a super slutty cheerleader costume to wear next week while you draft?"
"God, I would love that. That's like top ten Addison fantasies, for sure," Mark said, which prompted something between a squawk and a laugh from Addison.
"I do but I don't want to know the rest," she replied. "Realistically though, when I sit with you in a non-cheerleader-outfit-way, we both know I'm gonna pass out on your shoulder before you hit the third round." Lately, if Addison is sitting while at home, the first trimester has all but guaranteed she is either sleeping or close to falling asleep.
Mark shakes his head, dragging himself out of yesterday's memories and focusing harder on Addison's conversation with Bizzy. There were a few pleasantries initially exchanged and something about a garden party, but their words are definitely becoming…snappier now. And Addison is not exactly making it a challenge when it comes to eavesdropping; she put her phone on speaker.
"You didn't mean for it to happen?" Mark hears Bizzy say. "Even though it kept happening?"
"Well," Addison replies, "that part…yes, that was an 'on purpose' part, but falling in love with Mark wasn't. It just happened. He was there that weekend in the Hamptons, and Derek wasn't. Mark was there, and I missed my husband. But then the thing with Mark…it became more. Just like…gradually and suddenly."
"Funny you should choose to quote one of the most self-indulgent American novelists we've ever had. Addison, what were you thinking?"
"I wasn't thinking. By that point I wasn't thinking at all. And I know this is going to make your ears explode in offense, but it was like…scratching an itch. I was desperate for attention. Look, just because I'm really happy now and in love with someone who loves me back, I know that doesn't make how this happened acceptable. It doesn't cancel out the fact that I broke my vows, and that I hurt someone who I care about very much and never wanted to hurt, but it wasn't…in the past few years, it's been a really unhappy marriage, Bizzy. I've been so lonely, and felt so bad about myself. I felt like I was like…defective in some way. The early years were wonderful – and I will always be appreciative of all the work you put into making the wedding truly perfect, and the rehearsal dinner and the engagement party and my bridal shower, too – but the past few years have been…kind of miserable, actually. Almost all the time. Derek became absent. And indifferent. And at some point in the last two years, while he may have still loved me, he was definitely no longer in love with me. And that's not something worth sticking through. I deserve to be loved." Mark hears the crack in Addison's voice as she reaches that last word. "And the thing with Mark…it turned into so much more than what I thought it would. You'd like him, Bizzy. I know you haven't interacted with him more than a handful of times, but he really is a good man and -"
"Cheating though? On Derek? Cheating is hackneyed, so uncouth and -"
"You would know."
The silence that follows is overwhelming. Mark pays good money to live in an apartment with fairly soundproofed walls and windows, but no building is really a perfect match against the noises that encapsulate New York City. But just for a moment, decibels cease to exist.
"Excuse me?" Bizzy says sharply, finally cutting through the hush rolling across the apartment. "Don't bring your father into this. There have been…incidents in the past, yes, but we have a strong marriage. And the ability to practice discretion, if nothing else."
"I'm not talking about Daddy. I'm talking about the fact that people don't try to kill themselves over someone who is only a friend to them, Bizzy. I'm just -"
"Please tell me you'll be remarrying as soon as the divorce is finalized."
"No. Because this isn't the Victorian era. You can be in a committed relationship and have a baby without being married. But, one day I do -"
"Well then. I hope you know what you're doing, dear."
This comment triggers a light, almost-bitter laugh from Addison. "For a really long time I didn't, actually," she says. "I do now though."
Mark hears a few more words swapped – lower-voiced and calmer now, which he feels is not so much a sign of renewed peace, but the unspoken acknowledgement of an impasse, a we-aren't-going-to-resolve-this-tonight sort of thing – and then eventually, a hushed goodbye.
"All done," Addison calls out. She waits until Mark emerges from their bedroom and comes back into the living room, and then she mordantly adds, "It went great. Hi."
"Hi." Mark lowers himself next to her on the couch, close enough that their thighs are touching. He notices how she is pulling in air in a shallow, tight way that precedes crying. If Addison does not completely break apart now, he knows she will later. He wraps an arm around her shoulders, the gesture blossoming out of both comfort and preparation.
Addison's voice is fragile when she attempts to speak. "I shouldn't have brought up Susan or…or the thing," she murmurs. "That was really unfair. And mean."
"It's not like…it's not like you were trying to be mean. It was just instinctual," Mark reasons. "You were defending yourself."
"Yeah, I know. But…still. You don't take someone's trauma or pain and throw it back in their face, especially when they trust you with it. Not that Bizzy really…well. It's just that I was there, and I found her, and she knows all that. And then we never…" Addison trails off with a sigh. "I know better. And, just…I want to be brave enough to have that conversation with Bizzy one day, but not…not like this. So I'll…I'll text her later and apologize for bringing up Susan. You know…I don't know why I'm so disappointed. That's about as well as I could have hoped for the preliminary discussion to go." She gives Mark a strained grin. "Anyway. Distract me. Tell me what you've learned so far this week about Baby."
Baby. He smiles and nods. The him-or-her, the he-or-she of it all had started to feel long-winded, and since they could not really come up with any sort of in-utero nickname they liked, they opted to just go with something simple.
"Okay. Baby…is the size of a lime right now." Mark lowers his hand, easing it under her blouse to stroke his palm over the little swell in Addison's stomach. He loves it, but he secretly wondered if Addison would start to feel self-conscious with the changes, and if extra reassurance on his part would be needed. So much of Mark's job revolves around interacting with and "fixing" individuals who are not satisfied with their existing bodies, but so far so good with his girlfriend adjusting to her new, curvier figure. The just-starting bump, the sweet flush now always present in her cheeks, the indefinable way in which Addison somehow carries herself differently now – it is all really, really sexy. Pregnancy looks good on her, and Mark is not the only one who thinks so. The subject came up this morning with Lynette while they were opening the office up and Mark mentioned to her, "Thanks for asking us to have dinner with you. Thanks for asking Addison, actually. It seriously made her whole day. She still thinks you don't like her."
"I definitely don't like how damn cute she looks pregnant," Lynette replied with a cheeky expression. "It should be illegal, to look that beautiful and glow-ish while suffering through the aches and pains of carrying a kid. But I like her just fine, Mark. I know there were times I hit her with – perfectly valid, I should add, since I did the same to you – judge-y looks last winter and spring through the glass, but I do like her. She smells nice, she's polite, and she saves babies. She's clearly good for you, and I like the idea of having another baby around here." Lynette shook her head then, appearing deep in thought. "Such a confident-seeming woman…but the look on her face, when she brought up lunch, and then when I countered with an invite to dinner, it nearly broke my heart."
"What was the look like?"
"It was the look of someone who I imagine as a little girl could have received a lot more nurturing and hugs from her parents than she probably did."
"Mark?"
"Hm? Oh, sorry." He refocuses on talking about week eleven. "Let's see…what else. Baby's head makes up half his or her total body length, which seems insane, but it's true. Baby's fingers and toes are starting to separate, and nail beds are developing. Same with hair follicles. And Baby…is growing inside of an absolutely amazing woman." He brushes his lips against the side of Addison's head when she cuddles closer. "Red, when you were talking with your mom, that thing about your marriage being good, until it…until it wasn't. You know that won't ever be us, right? How I feel won't change." Mark does not want to bring up Addison's marriage right now – or anything that is emotionally-charged, because frankly, tonight's conversation with Bizzy was enough, but it feels like it is imperative to share this.
"I know. But…it's still really nice to hear that." Addison shifts towards him, and touches her lips to his. "Thank you." She sets a hand on Mark's leg, and he responds by cupping the back of her neck, fingers tangling through swaths of her hair as he draws her closer. They exchange tender, slow kisses, losing track of time while their lips move against one another.
"What is it?" Mark asks later when Addison looks like she wants to tell him something. Breathlessness has finally forced them to pull apart, if only briefly. He runs his thumb along her kiss-plumped lower lip, watching as her smile lengthens.
"I was going to ask if you're picturing me in like…a Jets cheerleading uniform right now."
Mark starts to laugh. "No, I'm not. I don't actually need to fantasize, you know. You don't ever have to do anything but be present, but since you brought it up…just so we're clear, this is a Giants household. Nonnegotiable." His fingers trail down, cradling her cheek. "You doing okay?" He asks, tone softening.
"Doing okay," she replies. "A little sad, but okay. Maybe when we go to sleep though…maybe you can stay close to me."
Mark knows what she is trying to say. Or request. They typically fall asleep loosely spooning, or cuddling in one way or another, but if the natural rhythms of sleep do not urge their bodies apart, then the sheer heat rising off Addison certainly does. Pregnancy has turned her into a self-proclaimed furnace, one who wakes up with sweat-dotted limbs and the covers rucked at her knees. But tonight, heat notwithstanding, she definitely needs an all-night-long hug.
"I'll stay close," he assures.
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Fourteen Years Earlier
"Damn. Addie, that boy is a total dreamboat – and you know I hate that word, so I do not say this lightly. What a body though."
"Are you making Weiss do one of those ridiculous fad diets your already-too-skinny self doesn't need to be doing?" Addison wedges her bookmark in between two pages, and rolls over, crumpling the striped beach towel beneath her as she moves from her stomach into a sitting position. "Do I need to give you another lecture?" She asks while dusting off grains of sand sticking to her chest.
"I'm not talking about my boyfriend." Savvy nods in the direction of the four men – Weiss, Derek, Mark, and Sam – who are throwing around a football near the shoreline. It occurs to Addison this is the first feat of athleticism she has seen from any of them. It almost feels jarring, to observe them bounding around in swim trunks with such ease and coordination. She does not see Weiss (who at one point during college felt like an everyday fixture) as much anymore, and when it comes to the other three, she is not used to seeing them holding anything other than medical instruments, pens, and textbooks. They are just too busy.
Well. Not exactly. Derek has other things in his hands a lot, Addison says to herself, the saucy thought definitely the result of some day-drinking.
"I'm talking," Savvy continues, "about the guy I'd be throwing myself at if I didn't have a boyfriend I love very much. Just look at him." And then Addison follows her friend's gaze, and sees that Savvy is specifically watching Mark as he chases down a throw from Derek, his ropy chest muscles glistening against the afternoon sun. Addison rolls her eyes indulgently in response. She knows Savvy is on her way to getting drunk (well, all three women are), but even on the best of days, Savvy possesses a questionable filter.
"I mean, what?" Savvy says, catching the eye roll. "Did Greek mythology just make it to Brighton Beach, somehow? Those abs can't be real. He's like…Hercules or something."
"It's actually Heracles. The Roman equivalent is -"
"Shut up, nerd. Just let me stare in peace."
"Mm-hmm," says a voice from Addison's other side. "Amen."
"Nai." Addison starts to laugh as she peers down at her other friend, who she thought was napping up until this point. "Not you, too."
Savvy leans around Addison to look at Naomi. "I knew we'd get along," she says brightly, pushing up her sunglasses and grinning. The trek to the beach was Addison's idea, and she is thrilled to see that Savvy and Weiss are fitting in great with her med school friends of nearly eleven months. "Addie, do you think they're not going to all stare when the three of us get up in a minute – I've decided that's what's happening – and go walk down to the water? And they won't be subtle about it, either. Men in their early twenties are better than teenage boys when it comes to checking women out discreetly, but not that much better. Not like men in their thirties and up."
"What do you know about men in their thirties? And up?"
"I'm just saying, that's all. Don't be -"
"I'm not a prude," Addison cuts in, finishing Savvy's accusation. She starts to laugh again. "And I'm not blind. Mark is handsome. And yes, those abs. I know I'm being the weird one here. You two are ogling, and before you started undressing my boyfriend's best friend with your eyes, Sav, I was reading and just…being all sentimental, I guess, and thinking how nice it is that we're all together today. And that I…I have something like this. You know, a group of friends. A friend-family."
"I forgot how emotional mixed drinks make you. C'mon. Let's go for a swim."
Addison walks between her two friends down to the water, and the hell if Savvy was not right. She giggles a little, sensing the guys' eyes on her and the two women flanking her. When she finally looks over, she notices Derek is a little further away, apparently designated as the one to go chase down an errant spiral. And since he is not there to look at her, she throws Mark a quick, almost-shy smile instead.
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. .
"Oh, that was good…" Addison murmurs contently, trying to catch her breath as she lazes on top of Mark, sated and weak-limbed from how frenziedly she was moving up and down his torso. It has been a few minutes since she collapsed against his chest, but she cannot bring herself to roll off him just yet.
"Five stars for you. You did most of the work." Mark traces his hands down her spine, cupping the flesh behind her hips appreciatively. She sighs into his neck, enjoying his touch.
"You put in a lot of work too though. Especially before we -"
"Trust me," Mark interrupts. "Going down on you is not a chore for me."
"Mm." She pokes at his shoulder. "How about you change the sheets while I hop in the shower?" And Mark immediately counters this suggestion with a better one: get in the shower with her and change the sheets later. And all it takes is one deep, tongue-sweeping kiss before Addison is happily and lustfully agreeing.
"Those my sweatpants?" Mark asks later that night once they have secured clean sheets on the bed. A few weeks ago, he wordlessly relinquished custody of the Yankees shirt Addison is currently wearing, but this is the first night he has seen her in a pair of navy-colored Columbia sweats he bought shortly before med school graduation, a strictly-nostalgia kind of purchase.
Addison smirks mischievously. "Not anymore. They're mine forever now." She uses the remote to select the white and green color settings on the galaxy nightlight, and then climbs into bed next to him, phone clutched in her hand. "Bizzy texted while we were showering." She pushes the device towards him.
"Showering," Mark repeats with a lewd grin. "Is that what you call what we did in there?" His expression turns delicate though when he takes the phone. It has been three days since Addison and Bizzy spoke on the phone. He knows she texted Bizzy on Wednesday offering an apology for bringing up Susan, and Bizzy responded with a simple thank you, and said that she was sorry, too. Mark knows that that hurt Addison though, because while Bizzy might have apologized, it was not made clear what she was apologizing for.
Hi. I'm going to email you the contact information for Megan Vance. She lives in NoHo. Daughter of a friend from boarding school. She can assist with getting paperwork in order, moving sale items, legal and personal name changes…things of that regard.
I was nauseous for most of my pregnancies with you and Archer. Jell-O seemed to help. And standing on something cold helped when I was experiencing leg cramps.
"It sort of feels like she's trying. Just…in her own way?" Mark says, giving Addison her phone back. The leg comment also made him smile. Earlier this evening Addison was saying that her body heat combined with the occasional twinges she feels in her legs and feet throughout the day is making her wish she could stand on an iceberg.
"Yes. I think so, too. And for now, it'll have to be enough." Addison sets her phone back on her nightstand. Her heart feels a little lighter after the text. It is not enough, but it is also not nothing, and in general, Bizzy's way of making peace rarely features an apology or any semblance of accountability. "So…Savvy will be here around one tomorrow with Phoebe. Weiss won't be able to make it – he and a friend are going to a Mets game. Savvy has enough personality for the both of them though, believe me."
"Look at us, doing stuff on weekends. Making plans," Mark jokes. "Savvy tomorrow and then dinner with Lynette next Sunday. Oh, and I talked with her today." He anchors an arm over Addison's waist. "Spaghetti and meatballs it is. Unless you develop some sort of new craving in the next week."
"About the meatballs…you told her I'm craving spicy ones, but it's completely, totally okay if she wants to make regular ones, right? And that if I don't eat a lot, it's just because I fill up quickly and it's not a reflection of the food?"
"I told her. As much as I wanted to be able to give her some of my usual shit and tell her 'spicy meatballs only for my girl or we're walking,' I swear I didn't."
A slow smile unfurls across Addison's face. "I'm your girl?" She asks softly.
"Well…yeah." Mark tugs affectionately on the end of her slightly-damp ponytail. "I mean, you're my girlfriend. Right? Did I miss a memo recently?"
"No, no. You didn't. I just…I like that." Addison tilts forward, pressing her lips against his. "I like getting to be your 'girl.'" She settles beneath Mark's chin, snuggling as close to him as she can. "Sorry," she says a few moments later when her nose accidentally brushes against Mark's throat and he releases a low laugh. "Did that tickle?"
"No. Well, sorta, but it's more just…you're such a gopher sometimes."
"Wait. Wait." Addison quickly arches back. She collapses into laughter, too perplexed by the statement to take a second to glare at him. "You can't be all romantic and tell me I'm your girl and then like ten seconds later compare me to a rodent. Please…" she ducks her head, shoulders still rumbling with laughter. "Please explain."
"You're not – okay, it's not that you're a rodent. I just mean…the burrowing thing. You burrow into me when you're cuddling, sometimes. I like it. I like your gopher burrowing. Or…okay, what else burrows?" Mark thinks of weasels and groundhogs briefly…not that either is better. "Okay. Rabbits," he decides. "You're like a rabbit. A cute bunny rabbit."
"I suppose being called a 'bunny' is a little better. And yeah, I guess I am a burrower. Being close to you is nice. Especially with…it's been a tough few days, with the Bizzy stuff."
"I know. It'll be okay though."
Addison gives him a faint nod. "I can't wait to reach a day when…when you don't have to tell me that things will be okay. They just…they just will be."
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. .
"Hi, Savvy. It's nice to see you again -"
"Take her," Savvy interjects breathlessly before Mark can finish his greeting. She lets the diaper bag hanging off her shoulder drop to the floor, and holds out Phoebe – wiggly, and currently producing little spit bubbles – for Mark. "Now," Savvy adds. "Please."
"Oh." Mark glances over his shoulder at Addison, who is not as close to the front door as he is. She was finishing cutting up some fruit when they heard Savvy's knock, and she encouraged Mark to go ahead and get the door. And while she is still a little busy wiping her hands clean with a dish towel, Mark knows she would of course be the better choice. More experience with babies, for one thing, and also, she knows Phoebe. Mark is not sure if Phoebe is capable of recognizing the face of someone she probably only sees once a week, if that, but in comparison, he is a total stranger. "I-I don't…" he starts to stammer, but Savvy either takes no notice or simply does not care. She presses the four-month-old lightly into Mark's chest, and instinctively – because this is definitely happening, regardless of Mark's feelings on why it would be better if Addison was in his place – his arms wrap around the baby, one arm resting on Phoebe's back and the other bowed under the chubby crease in her legs.
"I have to pee and I can't hold it. We came straight from running errands," Savvy announces as she paces past Mark into the apartment. "Your bladder is gonna be a weakened, shriveled-up nightmare after you have this one, by the way," she tells Addison, jabbing a finger at her stomach. "And you're going to be bawling on the toilet with those first few post-birth pees, too. Have fun with that."
"Okay. Bathroom is down the hall to the right," Addison replies. "Nice to see you, by the way. A picture of politeness and decorum as always. I'll reacquaint you with Mark when you're back."
"Oh, wait. Mark." Savvy turns around, legs shaky and now amusingly crossed, but her face looks deadly serious, so Mark's initial urge to smirk is wiped away. "Look at me. I'm going to say this with a smile on my face and use a very gentle, cooing voice because my daughter is looking at me right now, but please know I mean this in the meanest, most threatening way imaginable: you will sign whatever paternity papers are put in front of you at the hospital. And if you do not, I will hunt you down and kill you. I can put a murderer in Attica just as easily as I could dispose of a body and not get caught for doing so. Do you understand? No, don't just nod. Say 'yes' so that I know you understand."
"Y-yes."
"Wow. Hi, Phoebe," Mark says quietly when he and Addison both hear the thwack of the bathroom door being closed. The infant peeks up at him, and then reaches a hand up, experimentally probing the facial hair on his jawline. "I'm Mark. That was…probably one of the scariest things to ever happen to me." His gaze shifts back to Addison, who has started to make her way over. He gives her a small smile. "Did you want -?"
"It's okay. You've got her. Turns out it's not just newborns, by the way. You look good with bigger babies, too. I'm just gonna grab the diaper bag." Addison crouches down and loops the strap over her shoulder. "Why don't you sit down on the floor with her?" She gestures to the center of the living room, and Mark follows her. "Phoebe can sit as long as she has support, so just keep your hands on her so she stays propped up, or just kind of balance her against one of the insides of your legs. You'll figure out what feels comfiest." She smiles when Mark slowly eases himself to the floor with Phoebe, and situates her close to him. "Perfect. I'll check out the bag…" Addison pokes a hand around, and ultimately extracts a plush lamb, a board book, and some sort of musical toy. "You're fine," she adds. "Phoebe won't bite."
"Oh, I beg to differ," Savvy says with a weak grin as she comes back into the room.
Addison stifles a laugh. "The man has a genuine interest in breasts because of his job, but he doesn't want to hear any of your breastfeeding horror stories…and neither do I. Not right now anyway, not when I'm especially hormonal. Come with me and I'll grab you a drink."
And then it is just the two of them. Mark holds the lamb out for Phoebe, who appears to express some interest in the toy. He holds the animal against her chest, and then pulls it away. She goes to reach for it, hands waving uncoordinatedly, and then Mark dips the lamb back to her chest. He does it a few more times, and Phoebe blinks up at him, gurgling and showing him a big smile. Mark smiles back. He thinks that perhaps the baby is relaxed right now because he is relaxed (or pretending to be, since he is going to feel horrible if Phoebe starts crying when both women are out of the room). He repeats the motion with the lamb, and this time Phoebe surprises him with a giggle, her whole body wriggling from the force of it. It makes Mark laugh, and it occurs to him in this moment that while parenting will not be easy, not everything about it will be hard. He can do this.
. .
. .
"Did you notice how when I made faces at Phoebe – like, stuck my tongue out – she would try to copy me?"
"I did. That was cute. She really liked you, Mark." Addison thinks he knows but somehow also doesn't know how much he has been doing this tonight, sharing little gems of their time with Savvy and Phoebe. It was funny how much she babbled…it looked like she was trying do push-ups when you guys did that "tummy time" thing with her…feeding her took a long time because she just kept gumming on the top of the bottle and smiling at me.
Phoebe did like Mark. And Mark liked Phoebe. The whole thing made Addison just want to melt, how sweet the two of them were together. It ended up being a lovely afternoon. Addison throws Mark a smile now as she finishes rinsing out their glasses from earlier (wine for Savvy, beer for Mark, orange juice for her).
"As for Phoebe's mother…" Mark pauses for dramatic effect. Initial intimidation aside, he actually really liked Savvy. It has been a few years since he has seen her, but the basic things – her sense of humor, her fierce love for her friends – are still there. Just now coupled with the intensity of a mother. "She put her number in my phone, and Weiss's too so I can text him about tennis, but for her contact information…she put her name as ADA Jacobs-Levin. Man, what a flex."
Addison starts to laugh. "Just in case you decide to go running for the hills, I guess."
"Dumbest attorney ever then. I'm not going anywhere."
"Well, another thing about said attorney…" Addison goes over to the other side of the kitchen, and then returns with a photo card with rounded edges pinched between her fingers. "She gave us something else we can put on the fridge. Here's the birth announcement for her baby. Her so-not-a-newborn-anymore baby." Addison shakes her head as she shows Mark the birth announcement. "Apparently when you're the best friend, your copy just sits on Savvy's counter for like sixteen weeks straight."
Mark smiles as he takes in all the details. The front side has Phoebe's full name on it in shiny calligraphy etched below a photo of her asleep in a braided basket, resting on some sort of fluffy material that reminds Mark of clouds. He flips the card over, studying the other shots. One of Savvy, Weiss, and Phoebe, the proud parents staring down at their daughter. One of Phoebe yawning, the bridge of her nose creased in comically thick lines from how stretched-out the yawn is. A close-up of Phoebe's cheek, resting on top of tiny, wrinkled hands. And then one of her wearing a headband with dainty flowers on it, limbs tucked under her, body curled tight like a comma (womb pose, Mark knows it's called). It occurs to Mark, with a flutter in his stomach, that he and Addison will get to do this, too. Things like this just make it more real, in the best possible way.
"As you can see, Sav added a little something for me." Addison points to the bottom right of the card, where Phoebe's date of birth and measurements are listed. Under weight and ounces, Savvy has scrawled, Delivered by the best doctor/surgeon there is.
"God, this doesn't even look like the same kid." Mark secures the card to the fridge with a new magnet. "I mean, it does – I can tell it's her, but -"
"Yeah…they grow so fast at that stage." Addison exhales shakily and turns away from the fridge, latching her hands around the edges of the center island.
"Hey…hey." Mark sets a hand on her shoulder. "What's wrong?" He watches as her lips roll in and out, a precursor to tears.
"It's just…" Addison's voice quivers as tears fall, words feathered with stutters as she starts to cry. "We're not r-really going to h-have that." She fleetingly lifts a thumb over her shoulder, in the direction of the card.
"What, pictures? We can get pictures. We can get professional ones, Red," Mark tries to reason, a little confused. "We can even use the same photographer Savvy and Weiss did, if you want. And I'm going to run out of space on my phone from all the non-professional pictures I'm going to take -"
"No. I m-mean…people. The cards…people aren't going to want a birth announcement from us," she says, hiccupping sadly.
"Addison, that's not…that's not true," Mark says, pulling her against him. He can feel his heart sink though. "We have people who will be happy for us. My dad is going to want a card. And so are your parents – they'll come around. And Archer. And Savvy and Weiss. And Lynette." He knows that Addison does not need the names to be listed out; that is not really her point. But Mark cannot seem to stop himself, and a part of him wonders if it is because he is trying to reassure himself as well. Addison cries softly into his chest while he grasps desperately for more names. "Naomi and Sam…I know you haven't told Nai the whole story yet, and it'll be weird for them to digest, but it's a baby. People are happy about babies, you know? And I bet Nina and Charlene would like cards, too. I know…" Mark swallows tightly, finally arriving at Addison's actual point. "Look, I know it's going to be different from what it would have been like if you and Derek were having a baby, and if you weren't getting divorced, but we still…we have people, Red. Your circle won't be as big as it used to be, but you still have friends and family who care about you and want you to be happy. And friends and family who will be happy about Baby, too."
Addison sniffles and leans back, showing Mark a tiny, closed-mouthed smile. "With Naomi…it would be really funny if…if I didn't…" she trails off, starting to giggle. Mark immediately understands where she is going though (even though she would never go through with it), and he starts to laugh, too.
"If she gets a card from 'proud parents Mark and Addison' and photos of us holding a baby and wonders what the fuck is going on?" He finishes with a grin. "Damn, that would be really funny. But, Addison…it won't just be us. Really. You were right, when you talked about how the 'you and me and then everything else' wasn't a sustainable approach. It was good for helping us figure us out, but I know that…I know it's going to be different than how you always pictured the support you'd feel from others after having a baby, but I promise it won't just be us. I promise, okay? Baby is going to have other people that care about her…or him. It won't just be you and me." Mark thumbs at a few tears lingering on her cheeks. "And we'll meet new people, too. Obviously, I don't know many kids, but I sorta know Lynette's grandson. He's barely old enough for preschool it seems like, but he's just…always involved in things. Like little activities with other kids, and the parents are there too most of the time, it seems like. Music classes. Art classes. Some sort of gymnastics camp. And Rowan goes on play dates – a freaking ridiculous way to just describe going over to someone's house – and I remember he always went to this 'Mommy and Me' class when he was a baby. I remember Lynette talking about that. I'm just trying to say, that in addition to what we have left for supportive family and friends, we'll also make new friends too, once Baby comes. We're hella cool people, Addie." Mark says it with so much confidence that Addison releases a short laugh. "Other parents are going to want to be friends with us. And then I think…yeah, there's definitely people where maybe it's just too awkward or insensitive to send them a birth announcement, but that doesn't mean things will stay exactly how they are right now. There might be people you'll get a bit closer to again one day, and it won't be weird. It'll be different, yeah, but maybe…maybe not weird."
"Like Amelia and Nancy?" The Shepherd women cross Addison's mind daily, but those two in particular. She ultimately did end up sending a blanket for Nancy's fourth baby, and a few days ago, Nancy texted her a heartfelt thank you and attached a photo of Baby Nora, who Addison estimated to be about a week old in the photo. Not all communication is lost now, but Addison knew better than to expect a photo hours after Nora was born, just like how she knows better than to expect to receive Nora's birth announcement in the mail, or get regular updates. It is just too different now. Or too different for right now, at least, if what Mark is saying holds true.
"Yeah. Exactly like Amelia and Nancy."
"Lynette would…she would probably like two cards. One for her home and one for your office." Addison offers Mark another smile, and he nods in agreement. "Sorry about all this," she adds, looking embarrassed. "I know I cry about stupid things now."
"You don't -"
"I almost teared up when Lynette invited us to dinner. I almost teared up because one of my wrap tops has finally gotten too tight, and it's not a weight or insecurity thing…I just really, really like that top. And then I actually did start crying last night because the blueberries I was eating were squishier than I thought they would be. And now I'm crying about…about the freaking quantity of a card order that is seven months away."
"It's not stupid. Let's go lie down, Red; we can do the bunny thing."
Addison smirks at him as they make their way towards the bedroom. "There's more than one bunny thing when it comes to being in bed together, you know," she says.
"This is the cuddly one. Not the 'going at it like rabbits' one."
"Are you…are you okay though?" Addison queries once they have changed into comfier clothes, gotten into bed, and Mark's arms have folded protectively around her. "I don't…I don't ever want you to feel like this isn't enough for me. I love the life we have and the life we're continuing to build, but -"
"You can still love what you have and mourn what you used to have. You lost a lot in the past year."
"Gained things too though," Addison murmurs. "Really great things. You know…I get a lot of birth announcements, actually. Former patients bring them by because they often want to give the doctor who delivered their baby a card. And not all the cards always include a photo of the parents with the baby. And I like that Savvy and Weiss's did. We should do that on ours, too."
"Yeah. And I really liked the one of Phoebe in the basket, too."
"Me too. I've been thinking lately…I think I'm going to try and find a therapist. And start therapy. Or, actually. Well." Addison lifts a shoulder in a shrug. "While you were giving Phoebe her bottle, I briefly talked about it with Sav while I was refilling her wine glass. I was asking her how her experience was. I know yours has been mostly good, especially since you started seeing Olivia more consistently. So, I was curious about Savvy's, too. She used to see someone in her early twenties for disordered…" Addison winces. "Eating stuff," she finishes lamely. "Crap. Please don't repeat that. It just slipped out. Not that there is any shame in that, but -"
"Your friend casually mentioned a maximum security prison this afternoon. I'm not saying shit," Mark says. "But more seriously…you're right. For whatever reason you go, for whatever reason anyone goes, there's no shame."
"Right. And I think…I think it would be good for me. I've never really processed my mother's suicide attempt. And it would probably be good to work through that, and the grief and guilt about getting a divorce…and the anxiety, and the perfectionism, and the lonely childhood, and how my brain now sort of equates rain with being locked outside, and the other-shoe-is-going-to-drop theory I often get lost in, and probably a host of other qualities that make you the luckiest guy in the world to be with me." Addison grins feebly, and Mark starts to laugh.
"You're perfect to me," he says. "And I am lucky to be with you. Although…you did leave clothes-stealing off that list of yours."
"Yes." Addison smirks. "And clothes-stealing. And I want to go also, so that…I just want to make sure I'm going to be a good mom."
"You're going to be a great mom, Red. Do you…do you really think you won't be?" Mark frowns. "Because you're seriously going -"
"'Healthy' is what I mean, I guess. Not good. Healthy. I know I'll be a good mom. And a loving, present mom. But I want to make sure I'm a healthy mom, too. And that means having someone work with me and give me the tools so that I can be the best, healthiest version of myself for our kid. And for you, too…so I can be the best gopher-girlfriend."
"You already are the best gopher-girlfriend. Bunny-girlfriend, actually."
"Still though," Addison says. "Today…I know this wasn't the ideal way to end the day, but otherwise, today was really good. And this week was good too. Things…things are good, even though they're really hard sometimes."
"I agree."
"And you with Phoebe…God, babies look good in your arms. Seeing you with her, I just…" Addison shakes her head, a flush blooming across her cheeks. "If I wasn't so tired, and if I didn't need this bunny thing so much right now, trust me: we would definitely be doing the other thing that bunnies do."
Mark brushes his lips against her forehead. "There's always tomorrow," he adds meaningfully.
"True," she replies, breathing out a more relaxed sigh. "Night, Mark. I love you."
"I love you, too. Wait…Addison." Mark nudges at her shoulder. "Sorry, I just realized I forgot to tell you…I know it's too early to feel anything, but Baby is seriously moving in there now, since the nerves and muscles are starting to work together. Probably doing somersaults and stuff. Anyway." He kisses her forehead again when she smiles. "Sleep well. Sweet dreams."
They both fall asleep quickly, wrapped in each other's arms. They are happy, but that does not erase the twinges of grief and guilt, the rocky terrain they still have left to navigate. But they are trying, and each day they get a little closer to just happiness.
And, somehow, that is enough.
. .
. .
References/Nods to Various Episodes
Grey's 2x02.
Addison: "Sometimes people do desperate things to attract attention."
Derek: "That's your side of this? That I didn't pay you enough attention? Is that what you were thinking when you got naked with my best friend?"
Addison: "No, by that point I wasn't thinking at all, Derek. By that point I was just scratching an itch. We got successful, you and me. We got busy and we got lazy. We didn't even bother to fight anymore, Derek. And Mark was there and I missed you."
Grey's, 8x13. The AU episode. Addison to Derek: "I need you to have lunch with the president of the board of the Bryson School tomorrow." Because you know our girl WOULD be thinking about educational opportunities while her baby was in-utero. And the cutthroat nature of private education in NYC is no joke (AU episode was in Seattle, obvs, but the point still stands, and I enjoyed getting to have Archer make a comment about that).
Private Practice, 2x16 (one of the crossover episodes). Bailey: "I always liked Addison. I don't always like everybody, but I always liked her. She smells nice, she's polite, and she saves babies." And LMAO if you watch Mark in the scene, the second Bailey comments on Addison's nice smell, he ducks his head and does this little under-the-breath laugh, partly because it's such an endearing/funny comment from Bailey, but also because…dude would know.
Grey's, 2x08. Savvy to Addison: "You're the best surgeon there is." God, I love writing Savvy. I've never written a version of her where she isn't sassy to Mark. I think that as a fandom, all of us who liked Addison latched onto Savvy SO HARD and SO QUICKLY because Addison was incredibly lonely throughout season 2, and we just wanted her to have a friend.
Zihuatanejo, Mexico, is where Archer ended up getting parasites in his brain (prompting the Grey's/PP crossover…canon timeline doesn't add up for this, but I still liked getting to throw that detail in there). Second-to-last PP reference – in season 5, Addison reveals her breakup food of choice is bacon cheeseburgers (muffins have to be a close second though), so just a subtle nod to that. And last one – Addison fell off her bike once when she was seven and Archer carried her home. This is covered in a scene in chapter 5.
Thanks for reading! Reviews are warmly appreciated – I love hearing from you all. Next chapter will have an appropriate title, but the basic gist of it is, "The One Where Addison and Derek Get Divorced." It's full-speed ahead!