A/N- hi dearies. I apologize for this ridiculously late update, school's been crazy. I'm sure you all understand. I'm gonna steal a line from Mark and sing, "I can't believe a year went by so fast," because today is my first fanfiction anniversary. I thought it was a good opportunity to thank you guys again, especially those of you who follow my stuff ever since the beginning. Yes, letmefly, I'm talking about you. Love you all you guys. Please review. It keeps me sane :)


Chapter 8

Although she has been awake for the past half an hour, she didn't feel like getting up. She snuggled deeper into the warm covers, and just enjoyed the fact she didn't have to hurry up and get ready for work. Mark crawled out of bed in what seemed like hours ago, murmuring something about the gallery. The apartment was quiet, which meant that Libby was either asleep or doing something else that kept her quiet and well-occupied. She smiled. It's been a week since they got to New York. She got back to work on Monday, although now it felt like forever ago. Although she was busy all over her head, moving into Stan's position was easier than she expected. Everyone in the office was so nice and willing to help so everything went pretty smoothly.

After everything that happened during her last days in San Francisco, she took care of herself the best she could. She didn't stay at work longer than necessary, she never missed lunch break, and of course, there was Mark who always made sure she'd eat and rest. Libby's daycare was on the way to her office to she took her there each morning, and Mark picked her up in the afternoon unless he had to teach. It seemed to be working well so far, and they both managed to spend a lot of time with Libby. The only thing that bothered her was that they hardly had a chance to see one another. She was busy with getting familiar with her new job, and Mark was spending hours at Life because of that benefit they were organizing. She was looking forward to that weekend, because it seemed to be the only time they could be with one another without having to be anywhere else, which was why she was so surprised when Mark left that morning.

Only after stepping out of the shower, she noticed a small post-it against the mirror. Tammy is sick, had to cover for her. Meet me for lunch? Reminding herself to give him a call later on, she walked to the window. Sunlight was streaming into the room through the curtains, making her smile. They deserved a little sunshine after a week of snow and cold and blizzards. She pulled the curtains aside and looked out. The sky was crystal clear. It was a beautiful Saturday morning.

"Mommy?" a small voice was heard behind her, shaking her from her reverie. She turned. Standing there or the doorway was her little girl, still in her pajama but wide awake, her bear dangling from one arm. She smiled. "Hey, baby. Come here, look at that."

Libby moved closer and looked through the window. "No snow."

"That's right. No snow. It means we can finally go out for a while."

"Really?"

"Yeah. But first let's get you dressed, and then we'll have some quick breakfast and go out."

"Daddy not coming?" asked Libby, looking around for Mark. She seemed to be expecting to spend more time with him too.

"No, he had to go to work," she said, her thoughts drifting to the post-it that was now on her dresser. Libby looked very sad all of a sudden. "But it doesn't mean we won't have fun, right? Besides, we'll meet him for lunch. I promise," she said, gently pushing Libby out of the room. "Come on, let's make you pretty."

"I'm always pretty!" stated Libby, as if it was the obvious thing.

She laughed. It was scary how much Libby sounded like her. "Is that so? And who told you that, Munchkin?"

"Daddy."

Yeah, leave it for Mark to boost up the girl's ego. She knelt beside Libby and looked at her thoughtfully. Then she smiled. "Hmm. Guess he was right," she said and kissed the girl's nose. "Now gimmi a hug." Libby obeyed, wrapping her small arms around her neck. She held her daughter for a moment, breathing in her scent, and then let go and watched her as she ran to her room, giggling.


The park was couple of minutes' walk from their apartment. Just like the two of them, there were a lot of people around who probably thought what they did; that it was the perfect day to spend outside. Libby agreed it was better than the park they used to go to when they lived in San Francisco. She got tired of the swings pretty quick, and asked her permission to join couple of kids who were playing nearby. After Libby ran off, she found a bench nearby, where she could still watch Libby wherever she was, and took her cell out of her bag. She decided to call her parents, since they didn't have much time to talk lately. She knew they wanted to come over to see the apartment and make some wedding plans. She and Mark decided to tell them about the situation with his mom before it would get embarrassing.

One ring, and then another… and then she heard her mother's voice. "Hello, you've reached Richard and Elizabeth Johnson. We're not available at the moment. Leave a message and we'll get back to you. Have a lovely day."

"Hey guys, it's me. I just called to ask how were you and say hi. Call me when you get a chance. Love you. Bye." She hung up and dialed Mark's number in the gallery.

"Hello?"

She smiled. "Good morning."

"Hi."

"Busy?"

"Not really, it's still kind of early. Where are you?"

"I took Libby to the park."

"Good, you should be in the sun. Did you eat?"

She laughed. "Yes daddy, I have. When can you leave for lunch?"

"Hmm… around 12:30 I think. There's this cute place not far from here… Can you come here?"

"Yeah. Sure, no problem."

"Okay. I'll see you then."

After they hung up, she occupied herself with going over some wedding gown photos from a magazine her mother sent her several days earlier. She didn't even start looking for a dress yet, mostly because she didn't have the time, but she knew what she wanted so she didn't thing it would be too much of a problem. She wanted something that would be both simple and beautiful. She wanted it to be clean cut, classic, but not exaggerated. She knew she could count on her mother to come up with something tasteful. Her mother always had a great sense of style. Designing was her hobby for years. She had a porcelain doll collection that survived a very bumpy way from England, according to old family legends. She made them little dresses that she designed especially for them.

She flipped through the pages of the magazine, observing each photo carefully. Her mother put little marks for her in there, near some designs she thought were nice. In the short letter she attached to the magazine she said she was still working on a sketch of her own.

As she was looking through the magazine, she started to regret her ability to notice small details. It made everything harder. The dresses she looked at were beautifully designed, but each seemed to have some sort of a flaw. One was too transparent, another had shinning sequins all over, the third's cleavage didn't look appropriate for a wedding. She sighed. It felt as if she'd never find the perfect dress.

She glanced at her watch and her eyes widened. It couldn't be 11:30! She raised her head to look for Libby, and smiled as she located her. She was playing with a boy who looked just a little older than her. He whispered something in her ear and she burst into giggles, then whispered something in his ear. She waved at her, and Libby returned her wave, smiling. The little boy waved at her too. She hated interrupting them, but they should get going or they'd never make it to Mark's gallery.

She put the magazine back in her bag and got up, on her way to get Libby. She didn't notice a man that was going on her opposite direction, until she bumped into him full force. She raised her head in surprise. Where did he come from? She was about to murmur a quick apology and keep on going, but the words froze in the middle of her throat when she realized she knew him. By his expression, it seemed as if he recognized her as well. He stared at her jaw-dropped.

"Benjamin Coffin the Third. The enemy of Avenue A," she said, a small smile curling on her lips.

He seemed to have an inner debate whether or not to return her smile. He looked at her suspiciously, but eventually smiled back carefully. "Miss Maureen Johnson."

"In the flesh." The last time she had seen him was during Mimi's funeral. Her death was kind of unexpected, and caught all of them unguarded. She suffered from a flu that soon turned into pneumonia. She got it really bad. They spent hours by her bedside in the hospital, watching her fight, and miraculously, she was getting better. She died at home, a week after she was discharged from the hospital. One morning, she just didn't wake up. Roger was devastated, in a way she had never seen him before. Not even after April's suicide. He and Benny had a big fight on the morning of the funeral. Roger didn't want to let him in. He punched him and cursed him and it could have been worse if Collins wouldn't have stopped it on time. And then she left… and never saw Benny again. Until now.

She observed him. He hasn't changed much. At least not in external appearance. He wasn't wearing a suit, but a dark green turtleneck and dark jeans. She wondered what he was doing there, in the middle of the crowded amusement park. Then something occurred to her and she flashed him an apologetic grin. "Sorry I bumped into you, by the way."

"That's alright," he said, looking somewhat taken aback by her apology. "Have you lived in New York all this time?"

"No, I just got back. I lived in San Francisco for a while," she said. "How is Allison?"

Again, this seemed to have caught him by surprise. She knew he was expecting her to use Muffy, Roger's ridiculous nickname for Benny's wife. He made it up right after the one and only time Benny brought her to the loft. They all thought it was hilarious, because the name seemed to match her perfectly. Benny, on the other hand, freaked out whenever they called her like that when he was around.

"You know. We have our ups and downs, but she's okay. We're still in New York. Two kids." He looked away suddenly, and nodded towards the little boy Libby was playing with. "That's Scott, my youngest."

Talk about a small world. She smiled. "That's Libby, my eldest."

His jaw nearly dropped as the meaning of what she said quickly sank in. He looked over at the kids again, then back at her. "I'll be damned."

She laughed. "I'm not who I used to be."

"I think none of us is," he said seriously. She could easily tell that just like her and Mark, it was difficult for him too to let go of the past. "I know you'll think it's weird, but do you wanna meet someday? You know, just to talk?"

She smiled. "I'd love that. You can come to our place, I'm sure Mark will-"

His eyes grew big, and she realized what she had just said. "Whoa, wait a second, what? Mark?" His gaze automatically shifted towards Libby, as if trying to make sure he didn't miss anything.

"He's not her father, Benny. I met him again when I was in town for business around Christmas. We're engaged." She smiled as she realized he was the first to know about it.

He looked at her carefully. "You and Mark," he said slowly.

"Yes."

"Mark Cohen." She nodded, amused by his reaction, yet understanding it at the same time. "Blond hair, blue eyes, glasses? Scarf and camera?"

"Well, not the same scarf and camera, it's been a while you know, but yeah."

He looked stunned for a moment longer before a huge grin formed on his face. "What the hell took you so long?"

"I guess I needed that time to figure it all out," she smiled. Libby was running over to her, Benny's son right on her heels.

"Mommy, we go?"

"Yeah, baby, in a bit." She looked at Benny again. His expression was a mixture of shock and amusement. Eventually he snapped out of it and took a small card from his wallet, handing it to her. She took it with a smile.

"Tell Mark I said hi. And congratulations."

"I will. Thanks. I'll give you a call next week."

"Do that." He knelt next to Libby, who was eyeing him curiously. "Hey, kid. Look after your mom, okay?" Libby giggled, hiding behind her.

She glanced at her watch. "We'd better go."

"Yeah, we should go too. Come on, buddy," said Benny to his son. Then he turned to her again. "It was really good to see you, Maureen," he said, suddenly serious.

She nodded. Although they were never the best of friends, with all their other friends dead and gone, it was sort of like finding a lost family member. "It was really good to see you, too," she smiled, and she and Libby walked away.


She started working on dinner around 6. Mark was supposed to come back home within an hour, so she thought she'd surprise him. Considering the way he looked when they met for lunch, she knew he would be exhausted by the time he'd get home. When she worked late he made dinner for her. Actually, he also filled a bath for her, but something told her he wouldn't want her to return the favor. The TV in the living room was on, and Libby was wandering between the couch and her room, until she finally decided she wanted to draw some pictures, and went to find sheets of paper in Mark's study.

She took the phone to the kitchen with her since she was still waiting for a call from her parents. She made herself a mental note to give Benny a call the next day. Mark's expression when he heard about her meeting Benny was priceless, but he thought it would be nice to ask Benny and Allison for dinner someday. Benny was okay before he started dating Allison, Mark said. He remembered he was pretty cool when they were roommates at Brown. And if he stayed with her for so long, maybe she wasn't as bad as they remembered her. Besides, they all changed. No reason why she wouldn't change too.

The phone rang just as she lowered the heat of the stove. She picked it up, thinking it was one of her parents calling her back. "Hello?"

"Cindy, dear? How are you? It's mom," said an unfamiliar female voice.

She was about to apologize and tell the woman that she got the wrong number, when it suddenly dawned on her that she knew that voice. She must have dialed the number by accident. She would never have called there on purpose. Plus, she asked for Cindy, which made it obvious she had no intention calling there. Hmm. Maybe it was her opportunity to say a few words for her future mother-in-law. "I'm afraid you've got the wrong number, Mrs. Cohen," she said as calmly as she could.

"Oh? Then how did you know my na-" her voice trailed off as she seemed to realize her mistake. She huffed, clearly unpleased. "Oh. It's you," she said coldly.

She closed her eyes. Don't let her get to you, she told herself. This was exactly what she wanted. Don't give it to her. She took a deep breath, and opened her eyes. "Yes. It's me."

There was a short pause before Mrs. Cohen spoke again. "Well, I've obviously dialed the wrong number. Goodb-"

"Wait."

Another pause, and then, "I have nothing to say to you."

"Well, I have some things to say to you."

"I have no interest listening to you."

"Why? Because you're afraid of what I have to say?" She regretted the words the moment she said them. She didn't want to come up the rude one. She didn't want to raise her voice. She wanted to prove that woman on the other end that she has changed. "Look. I know what you think about me. But it's been over ten years now." Forget, regret, or life is yours to miss. "At least hear my side. That's all I'm asking."

"You will not be able to manipulate me the way you manipulated my son."

Her jaw dropped. She was just trying to be nice! Well, if nasty was what Mrs. Cohen wanted, nasty was what she would get. Two could play that game. Lucky for her, she was a pro. "First of all, I did not manipulate your son; it was his choice as well as mine. And second, you have no right-"

"How dare you? I'm his mother! I have every right!"

"Mark is old enough to make his own choices, don't you think?"

"He's doing a mistake!"

"That's up to him to decide!"

"How can you sleep at night, knowing you caused so much damage already? You're taking my son away from me! You're ruining our family!"

"You're the one who won't make it easier on him!" She was raising her voice again. She closed her eyes, forcing herself to calm down. "Look, it doesn't have to be like that. All I'm asking is a second chance. I don't expect you to like me. Really, I don't. But this is Mark's choice, and even if you can't accept it I think you should at least respect your son's choices. Don't do it for me, do it for Mark."

"I made it clear for Mark and I will make it clear for you as well, because obviously my message didn't get through. I will never allow you or that bastard child of yours into this family."

It felt as if Mrs. Cohen was trying to stab her with an invisible sword. And now not only that she succeeded, but her hit couldn't have been more precise. Mark never told her his mother knew about Libby. Her shock lasted only a few seconds, quickly melting into fury. She could stand any insult, but she would not let that woman speak about her little girl that way. "Leave my daughter out of this!"

"Why? Because you're afraid of what I have to say?" Her own words echoed back at her. Damn that woman, she thought, tears of frustration stinging in the corners of her eyes. "Mark refused to tell me where is the child's father, which only confirmed my suspicions about you. You haven't changed a bit. Only this time you got punished for it. Now, I don't know what game you think you're playing, but you better think twice before you get my son involved in it. I will never accept you into this family. This wedding will not happen, as far as I'm concerned."

"Luckily, it's not up to you to decide," she said coldly. Mark's mother was out of line. "This conversation is over."

"Ten minutes too late."

Only after she hung up, she realized how furious she was. Her hands were shaking. She took a deep breath and leaned against the counter, slowly calming down. She walked over to the sink to splash some cold water on her face. She didn't want to think about what had just taken place, but it echoed mercilessly in her ears. Now everything finally fit together. She remembered Mark's behavior when he got to their hotel room right after talking to his mother. It's been almost three months and he still hasn't told her exactly what happened there. Now she got the chance to hear it herself.

"Mommy?"

She turned, startled. Libby was standing there, with some sheets of paper in her hand. She walked over to her, suddenly panicked. Did she hear any of this? "What is it, sweetie?"

"Can we read now?" asked Libby.

"I haven't finished making dinner yet, baby. Why don't you wait until Mark gets home, and you could read with him, okay?" She was too tensed to do that right now. And she knew she couldn't hide it from Libby. This little one always sensed when something was wrong. It was as if she had a sixth sense or something. And dinner wasn't even close to ready because of that damn phone call. Then she caught a glimpse of the papers Libby held. Printouts of some sort. "Libby, where did you get this?"

"Found it in Daddy's room," was the girl's quiet reply.

She sighed. Oh great. "What? Munchkin, you're not supposed to touch the papers Daddy keeps in his study, you know that."

Suddenly, Libby looked very guilty. Her bottom lip started quivering almost immediately. "I'm sorry."

Her heart sank. She didn't mean to snap at her like that. It's just that Mark had some important stuff there, and that conversation with his mother didn't do her good at all. She knelt next to her daughter and moved a lock of her off her face. "Sweetie, don't cry. I didn't mean to scare you," she said softly. "Give me the papers and I'll put them back on Daddy's desk, okay?" Libby nodded, silently handing her the papers. Her eyes flipped over the title line as she took them from Libby. Then she did a double take.

She instantly realized that there were some other things Mark wasn't telling her.