Seven: It's such a lonely number—one after six and always one behind eight; Odd, not even—and to some, a constant reminder that life had not turned out the way they expected it would,

It was the number of months that she had been alone; The number of days that it took for Derek to return a phone call—if he returned it at all—and it was also the number of times that Addison Montgomery-Shepherd considered moving back to New York to start over—whatever that entailed. Alex wasn't too fond of her mentioning a possibility of a move. He'd made it clear that he wanted her, wanted her to stay. She more than suspected that he'd marry her if she'd asked. There was something in the attentive way that took care of her, asked about her and how she was feeling, that really got to her. She'd had a great time with him—heaven only knew how many times those dark, calloused hands had slid over her heated flesh–how many times he'd taken her to a place that not many could. They'd been sleeping together for months, never going public with the relationship—her idea—and they practically lived together. And it still wasn't enough.

There was someone else to consider.

She had talked to Mark Sloan almost daily ever since her split from Derek and he was quite adamant that she return to 'where she belonged'. Addison knew that Mark loved her, had love her for a long time, and that he wanted her to be his again. He wanted both of them. In fact, in the last conversation he'd practically begged her to come be with him. In his life. In his bed.

Only this time she wouldn't be alone.

She reached down and patted her seventh-month stomach, which had grown quite large in the last few weeks and sighed. To feel the tiny—and sometimes wind knocking blows—that her daughter inflicted upon her was a great source of comfort and joy for her. She'd never thought that she would ever had a child. The doctors had told her that she'd never conceive. She rubbed her hand slowly across the stretch of skin and smiled. She loved the way her stomach stuck out proudly–a testament to the growing life inside her, perhaps the only way to show prove that she had something of Derek left.

The only thing she had left.

Her mind started to wander as she felt the life of her daughter stir beneath soft hands. If only—no, she decided with a quick shake of her head—she wouldn't do it again–the 'if only's' were empty promises—a teasing way the mind had of making up all kinds of possibilities and scenarios which were destined to make you unhappy and unsatisfied in the end.

Derek wasn't coming back to her–wasn't even a possibility–and for the first time in months, she decided to accept it. Meredith Grey was six months pregnant with their first child and she was glowing, happy and very much in love with Derek. And to make matters worse, she thought bitterly, all Derek could talk about was waiting for the birth of his child. Yes, she conceded, he did do his best not to mention Meredith's pregnancy when he knew she was around—damn near tried to ignore her as best he could—and he did ask how she was feeling every now and then. He'd even agreed to pay child support every month. A very tidy sum indeed. But she wanted more, needed for him to want more–and she knew that it wouldn't happen—not in this lifetime.

Funny, how having two different men who wanted you didn't mean nearly as much as the one you'd lost. The one that you spent twelve years with, making love to, making a damn life with—had turned against her and even though she was carrying his child—or at least she was pretty sure—and easily turned to the one woman who, apparently, he couldn't live without.

The key turning in the lock had her looking up towards the door. It swung open wide and Alex stepped inside holding a brown grocery bag. He was wearing dark blue jeans and a red t-shirt. Made him look sexy and dangerous. She shivered, feeling the need to be as close to him as possible—a need that he made sure that he instilled in her every time he brought her over the edge with sweet release—and she would keep him until she had figured out exactly what she was going to do.

"Hey." He greeted, setting the bag down on the counter. "How was your day?" He asked as he took out a quart of Ben and Jerry's ice cream and held it up, grinning, as he reached for two spoons from the container beside the stove.

"It was good." She replied, smiling. He didn't have to know that she had been thinking about other men, about other things. She held out her arms to him. "Aren't you going to kiss me hello?"

He waggled his eyebrows at her and his eyes darkened, turned into two pools of chocolate as he watched her through hooded eyes. "I could—" He said slowly, pushing off from the counter and sauntering slowly toward her with the delicious treat. "But I like to hear you ask me first."

"You're so macho, Karev."

"Tell me again." He countered, as he neared her.

"I want you to kiss me." She rolled her eyes, but he saw the need there–the loneliness that even she wouldn't admit to. Dammit, he wanted her to know how much he loved her and he cursed himself for not having the guts to tell her. He wanted both of them in his life. She still continued to talk about New York, about how her 'friend' Mark wanted them to come stay with him—and every time she said it, it cut him like a knife. Not trusting words, he put into practice what he couldn't say.

He sat down beside her and set everything down on the coffee table so he could reach up and fist his hands in her long red hair, unencumbered. He loved the feel of the silky strands as they lay obedient against his fingers. He leaned in teasingly and tugged gently on her full bottom lip, forcing her mouth to open. She sighed and wrapped her arms around his neck, leaning into him fully.

Pleased, he put all of his feeling and want into a mind-numbing kiss that left her tingling down to the tips of her toes. His stomach coiled with the desire that not even Isobel Stevens could outdo. When oxygen became an issue, he took a deep breath. Pulling back, he ran his hand down and rubbed her stomach lightly. "And how's my other girl doin today?" He looked up at her, so hopeful and vibrant. "What do you think of the name Vivian?" He asked.

"Vivian?" She asked. "You've been thinking about names for her?"

"I remembered that you liked that name." He said nonchalantly. "I thought it would be nice. Vivian Montgomery. Has a nice ring to it."

She felt her heart quicken at the personal reference to her mother's name and decided to change the topic. "She's been sleeping the day away. It's night time that she's practicing to play for the Giants."

His eyes darkened for a moment,. "Don't you mean the Seahawkes?"

"Either or." She said lightly.

He sighed, exasperated. "You're still thinking about moving to New York?" He sat back, annoyed. "Addy, why are you still considering this?"

"I'm keeping my options open."

"Why? Why do you need to keep them open?" He challenged. "Do you need more than I can give you?"

She looked him over carefully before responding. "I don't know, Alex. I just don't know."