"Wow, Mere. Look at you!" Derek seemed to have a knack for knowing where she'd be. This time, of course, she was emerging from the locker room after showering, and doing her hair and makeup. And she was wearing her favorite dress and shoes. She smelled good, she looked amazing, but she felt absolutely awful. Tonight was the night that she'd break things off with Justin.

"Are you sure that you have to go out with him one more time…looking like that? Can't you just break the news to him over the phone? Or in a nice note?" he whispered, jokingly, as he leaned against the wall outside of the locker room.

"Derek!" she laughed. "I think that we both owe him at least this."

"I guess that's true. The last supper. Or something," he grinned, eyes twinkling. "And then you're mine."

"Whatever. I've been yours for a long time. Okay, wish me luck!" She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek, and spun around, heading toward the elevator.

As she neared it, the elevator's doors opened, and Meredith was a little surprised by whom she found standing in front of her.

"Justin! You're early!" she cooed.

"Yeah, I wanted to see my girl," he said, enfolding her in a hug as she joined him on the elevator. "You look absolutely amazing."

She looked him over, "You don't look so shabby yourself!"

"It's great to see you, Mere." He smiled at her charmingly, eyes shining.

They stepped off the elevator and headed toward the front doors.

"Where did you park?"

----------

The restaurant she'd suggested was a cozy little Mexican place. It had a quiet but energetic ambiance, and great food, as it turned out. They leisurely sat and savored the meal. Meredith, as was always the case when she was preoccupied or fretting about something, ate very little from her plate. And Justin, the attentive boyfriend he was, picked up on the fact that she was troubled.

"What's wrong, Mere?"

"Um, I need to talk to you about something."

"What is it, honey?"

"Well, it's—uh…" she began, waiting for the right words to start flowing, "I'm still in love with Derek."

"I know," he calmly replied.

"You do?" she asked, surprise evident in her voice.

"Yeah, it's not so difficult to figure out." He grinned, making her heart skip a beat.

"How long have you known?"

"Did you ever really stop loving him?" He bluntly questioned.

"I tried," she answered, trying to hold back tears.

"I know you did. And I'd really hoped that things would work out between us. But you're a wonderful woman, and I want you to be happy. I really wanted that to be with me—wanted us to be together. If you don't feel the same way, though, I can't force you to feel any differently." "Wow," she thought, "this is so much easier than I'd thought it would be."

"I'm sorry, Justin," she said, eyes misty.

"I know. I am too." He reached across the table for her hand. "Do you want me to take you home?"

"Yeah, I suppose I do."

----------

They chatted the whole way back to Meredith's, quietly making small talk. Each asked about the other's work. Meredith asked about Justin's family and what was new with each of them.

Finally, they pulled up at the curb in front of Meredith's home.

"Well, I guess this is goodbye." Justin took her hand, and squeezed it in his.

"I guess it is," she sadly concurred.

He leaned over, gently brushing his lips against hers one last time.

"Bye Meredith."

"Bye Justin."

She grabbed her tote bag from the back seat, waved, and shut the door to the car, running down the front walk and up the stairs to the door. After unlocking the door, she turned back and waved. Justin waved back, and slowly drove away.

----------

"Hi Derek." She'd called him, wanting to hear the sound of his voice before she went to bed.

"Hi Mere. How did things go tonight?"

"All right, I guess. It was sad. And it was almost too easy."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, when I told him that I was in love with you, he said that he already knew." She grinned.

"Really? Poor guy. He didn't stand a chance, did he?"

"Derek! That's a cocky thing to say!"

"I'm not cocky, I'm just really likeable. Aren't I?"

"Well, I'll give you that, I guess."

"Can I come over?"

"When?"

"Tonight? Now?"

"Don't you have surgery in the morning?"

"Yes, and I do need sleep, but I can sleep next to you as well as I can sleep alone." He was pleading. "Do you have to work tomorrow?"

"Nope. I ended up on call last Sunday, so I've already reached my 80-hour limit," she paused for a second, then answered his previous question. "I guess that you can come over."

"What if I bring some stuff that I can leave at your place? Like, my toothbrush and deodorant, and that kind of stuff?"

"I guess that you can bring your stuff," she sarcastically responded with feigned disinterest, her heart leaping all the while.