Callie was back in Seattle. It was a fact that Arizona still hadn't completely gotten used to. They were back to their regular schedule, each woman with her assigned "days" with Sofia, functioning as friendly co-parents. Maybe even friends.
And Arizona had long ago accepted that, although Callie may retain some tenderness for her, she no longer felt the same desire she did back when they were married, and they would never again be more than friends—if that. Or so Arizona thought.
But that all changed one night, when Arizona dropped by one night, wanting to grab one of Sofia's coats before their anticipated trip to the ice skating rink that upcoming Saturday.
Callie answered the door with the coat in hand, but as soon as she saw Arizona's cheeks, pink with cold, and her tentative smile, she decided to take a risk.
"Do you want to come in for a minute?" she wondered. "I have a fire going, and I could make us some tea."
Sofia was sleeping over at Zola's, and Arizona didn't have work the following day, so she figured why not? and followed Callie inside.
Callie strode into the kitchen to heat up some water, and Arizona instinctively leaned against the island-counter across from her. "It's cold out there," she offered, feeling her fingers begin to defrost.
"I know," Callie agreed, pouting out her lower lip. "And it's only February."
Arizona smiled, and they made their way over to the couch a few minutes later, hot tea in hand.
"How do you like being home?" Arizona hazarded once they had sat down.
Callie's lips quirked up. "Home," she repeated in a whisper, knowing how true that was. "It's good. It feels right. You know?"
Arizona nodded, her eyes fixed to her ex-wife's face.
Callie was momentarily lost in thought before finally turning to meet Arizona's eyes. "Kind of like how I always felt with you."
Arizona felt her heart jolt in her chest. All she could respond with was "What?"
Callie smiled, finding humor in her ex-wife's incredulity. She knew this was sort of out of the blue, but was it really? They'd had a love for the history books. And how could a love so deep ever fade away?
"Arizona, things with you have always just felt…right. I mean, even when everything was wrong, you were my…Well, you're my person."
Arizona felt her fingers begin to tingle. Then her hands. Was it fear? Joy? Some all-consuming urge to touch, to come back together?
It was too much—too risky.
Arizona gulped back the golfball in her throat. "I, um. I should go." She looked down at her tea, toward the fire flickering a few feet away. "Thank you…for this." In that moment, that was the best she could do, in terms of politeness.
She began to amble toward the the door, not trusting herself to look at Callie again without crumbling, falling to her knees, bursting into tears, so consumed she was with want.
Callie stood up. "Wait," she pleaded, her voice a mere whisper.
Arizona turned around. It wasn't like she had any other choice. "Callie…"
She was just so scared.
"Please…" she continued.
Callie stepped toward her. "Stay," she countered.
Arizona pursed her lips. "I can't."
Callie took a step toward her, wanting to reach out, touch, let the woman she loved know that she was there, that everything would be okay.
Arizona instinctively took a step backwards. Her eyes bored into Callie's, pleading. "Calliope…"
Callie waited, watching, unblinking.
"I'm scared that, if you touch me, I'll explode." She shivered at the mere thought, her cheeks growing hot.
Callie nodded solemnly. "That's how I feel, too." Her breathing shifted as she felt her anxiety mount. "But in a good way. Like, exploding into something better. Does that make sense?"
Arizona licked her lips. She felt her hands tingling. That urge to touch.
"Like coming home," Callie continued, a shiver rolling over her.
Arizona's lips quirked up. "You know I love you," she whispered.
Even though it wasn't a question, Callie nodded in affirmation. "Yeah. And you're the one love of my life."
Arizona's smile expanded. "Yeah," she breathed. And she knew it.
She stepped forward. Close enough to tuck a strand of hair behind Callie's ear, to trace her cheek with her index finger, to follow the line of her jaw with her thumb.
She was close enough to inhale Callie's scent, to hear the subtle change in her breathing as Callie closed her eyes, an ivory hand moving down her shoulder, another hand reaching toward her waist.
Feeling Arizona's hands wander up, toward her breasts, Callie's eyes popped open in surprise, and she felt her mouth go dry as she realized what was happening: Arizona still loved her. And, of course, she still loved Arizona. And she was back, breathing the air of the love of her life.
"Can I kiss you?" she whispered. Something about the moment felt sacred, somehow, so her voice was barely audible, despite the fact that they could have spoken as loudly as they liked.
Arizona gazed into her eyes. "Please."
And then they were wrapped around each other, arms clasped tight around middles and backs, relishing in their body heat, in the warmth of their mouths, the tingling in the pits of their stomachs.
And, years later, sitting in front of the same fireplace long after retirement and Sofia moving out, this was what mattered most: not the arguments, not all the things that went wrong, but the moment of finally reuniting with their home, the love of their lives. It was only the beginning of their happy ending.
