"Morning," Jed said, moving onto his side to face her.
"So it is."
"Can you believe we slept this late?"
"Uh, yeah! We didn't even get to sleep until after five," Abbey answered.
"True. Worth it?"
"Oh, yeah."
"So. we have the whole day. What do you want to do?"
"Let's just...go to a diner or something for breakfast and just take it from there."
"Ooh, out to breakfast. When was the last time we did that?" Jed asked.
"Probably our honeymoon."
"Wow. That...was a long time ago."
Abbey nodded.
"Twenty-one years."
"We haven't gone out for breakfast in twenty-one years. What a sad little statistic that is."
"We're never home in the morning."
"We haven't been home in the morning for twenty-one years."
"Stop with that. You're making me feel old."
"God. Do you remember our honeymoon?"
"I do."
"Feels like forEVER ago, no kidding."
"It does, doesn't it? Where did the time go?"
"It went to the London School of Economics, Harvard Medical School, residencies, Nobel Prizes, teaching, saving lives, running for political office, and raising three children."
"Soon to be four children," Abbey added.
"Soon to be four children and a grandchild."
"Well. At least no one can say we haven't lived our lives to the fullest."
An hour later, Jed and Abbey sat in a small, cozy diner by the Potomac.
"Mmm, blueberry pancakes look good," Jed said, perusing through the menu.
"Hmm. I think I'll stick with something light."
"Abbey, I'm taking you out to breakfast so you can eat something you wouldn't normally eat at home."
"I know, but..."
"And you're eating for two now. Don't force the poor child to eat all that healthy crap."
"I bet healthy crap would be considered an oxymoron. But then...I'm not an English scholar, am I?"
"Hell no."
The waiter approached them.
"What can I get you?"
"I'll have the blueberry pancakes, plase, with a side of home fries and sausage."
Abbey looked at her husband with disgust.
"I'll just have a grapefruit and some toast please."
"Abbey!"
"What! You order for me then!"
"Really? You never let me order for you."
"With good reason too. But go ahead, you do it."
"Ok...hmm...she'll have...a cheese omelette, a side of bacon, and toast."
"Jed! I can't eat all that!"
"You can and you will."
"Thanks. I'll go put your order in," the waiter said, scurrying off.
"I can't believe you ordered me all that."
"You don't eat, Abigail."
"I eat! I just eat healthy. Which is more than you can say."
"That's right. I'm only on this earth a short time, I want to eat what I like," Jed said.
"If you keep eating what you like, you're gonna be on this earth a much shorter time, my friend."
"At least it will be time well spent."
"And less time spent with me."
"Touche. That's very pessimistic of you, dear."
"It's the truth."
"Listen. Abbey...there's something I need to talk to you about."
"Me too."
"Ok, you first."
"No, you go."
"Ok. Well. As you know, I've been having some difficulties at work..." Jed began.
"The Republicans, yeah."
"And...I'm not really feeling t he whole Washington scene anymore."
"Uh huh..."
"And that's it."
"That's it," Abbey repeated.
"Yeah. I haven't really given it a lot of thought yet. But...I want to do something. I don't know what just yet."
"Jed, honey, I really have no idea what you're talking about, so why don't you spend some more time thinking about whatever it is, and get back to me?"
"Yeah. That's probably a good idea. What's your thing?"
"Roger Carmichael wants me to take a desk job at the hospital."
"What do you mean, a desk job?"
"Lab work, that kind of thing."
"And why does he want you to do this?"
"My fatigue spells, and my last miscarriage."
"He brought that up?" Jed questioned.
"Yeah. He just wants me to...take it easy."
"That's bullshit, Abbey."
"I know!"
"You think he has ulterior motives?"
"I don't, Jed. I believe his intentions are honorable, I really do. But it makes you think..."
"Oh, no. Don't start doubting yourself, Abbey. You know just as well as I do that you are a damn good doctor and there isn't a single person who would dare dispute me on that."
"So you don't think I should accept it then?"
"Hell no! There's no way you're going to be happy in the lab and I don't want to see you go throught that, now or ever."
"That's what I think too."
"Good."
"Well. That's that then."
"I hate this cafeteria," Liz complained.
"Why?" Mallory asked, disinterested.
"It's gross."
"Mmk. What's going on?"
"Don't ask me. Ask everyone else," Liz responded.
"Why don't you just tell me?"
Liz leaned in and whispered, "I think there's a conspiracy against me."
"Really."
Mallory rolled her eyes.
"I'm not kidding, Mallory. Everyone's being so nice. Too nice."
"You're out of your mind."
"Fine, don't believe me."
"I won't!"
"Good."
"Good!"
"Are you gonna eat your french fries?" Liz asked.
"Yes! Back off."
"So."
"So what?" Mallory said.
"So what's going on with you and Patrick O'Brien?"
"Nothing!"
"Oh, is that why he's been dropping love notes in your locker?" Liz inquired.
Mallory gasped.
"Who told you that?"
"Um, you did, Einstein."
"Shut up. Whatever."
"Why the hell are you pissed off at me, Mallory?"
"I'm not!"
"Like hell you're not."
"Well, in case you haven't noticed, you've been treating me like total crap lately," Mallory accused.
"I have not!"
"Yeah, you really have."
"Well, it's the hormones, Mal, not me."
"What are you, Michael Corleone?"
Liz looked at her with confusion.
"What?"
"'That's my family, Kay, not me.' Do you live under a rock?"
"Screw The Godfather! Can we end this please? I can't have you being all mad at me. You're the only real friend I have right now."
"Then start treating me better."
"I will. I'm sorry."
"Ok then."
"Hey, you wanna go shopping this weekend?" Liz asked.
"I guess. Why?"
"Ellie's birthday is coming up."
"Oh, right. I have to get her something too. What's the exact date again?"
"October 1st."
"Right. Libra. Speaking of birthdays..."
"Your birthday is like two months away, Mallory."
"That's right. November 27th. Scorpio, baby."
"Uh huh."
"So what's going down for Ellie's birthday?" Mallory wondered.
"The usual. You know. Family's coming down from New England for the weekend."
"Everyone?"
"Pretty much."
"Anyone else?"
"Scott, Millie, and the kids. You guys. That's basically it."
"Think your grandparents are gonna kill the party like Zoey's birthday last year?"
"Grandpa and Nan did NOT kill Zoey's party."
"Liz, come on. They were at each other's throats the whole time."
"Nuh uh!"
"Why do they hate each other so much anyway?" Mallory asked.
"Nan doesn't like how Grandpa is so...cold to Dad. Grandpa thinks Nan is a tramp for marrying Pop only a year after his wife died."
"Oh, yeah. Maybe they secretly love each other."
"Nan and Grandpa? Please. I'm not even sure Grandpa loves Grandma."
"Maybe all the more reason for him to love Nan..."
"You're sick, Mallory. These are my grandparents you're talking about."
"Nan's only your step-grandmother, Liz."
"Yeah, but she was married to Pop way before I came along."
"Hey, is your aunt Julia bringing the gorgeous French artist?"
"Andre? Yeah, I Guess. I mean, he's like...her husband so..."
"This is gonna be one helluva weekend."
"Tell me about it."