6 Months Later

I hear Josh let himself into the apartment and lock the door behind him. I glance at the clock on my nightstand. 3am. Again.

The distinct sound of closing deadbolts and the thud of his backpack onto the floor are immediately followed by the woosh of fabric on his suit jacket as he discards it onto the dining room table and the opening of the fridge door.

I left him a plate, so I'm not surprised when the silverware drawer rattles open and the aluminum foil that's covering it is crinkled into a ball and tossed away. A few bottles clink against each other and a cap is pried off of one and dropped onto the countertop as the fridge door slams shut again.

I get out of bed, combing through my hair a bit with my fingers and squint against the bright lights in our kitchen.

"Aren't you going to heat those up?" I announce my presence as he eats a forkful of cold mashed potatoes.

He looks over to me and raises his eyebrows before swallowing. "I didn't want the microwave to wake you up."

I shake my head slightly but smile. He really is a very sweet man.

I kiss his cheek hello and jump up to sit on the counter near the spot where he's holding his plate and eating over the sink.

"Another late night," I note.

"Yeah." He doesn't meet my eyes.

"That's the 4th one this week. You didn't even come home last Thursday."

He glances over to me and sees me intently studying his face.

"Is everything okay?" I ask softly, reaching over to lightly touch his arm.

He freezes as though he's mentally calculating how much he can talk to me about whatever has him holed up in strategy sessions.

"I'm not asking about work," I amend quickly. "I'm asking about you."

I see him relax and put down the plate, stepping over to stand between my legs as he takes my face in his hands and meets my eyes.

"I'm okay." He holds my gaze for a while, obviously trying to assure me that he is, in fact, alright.

It works. I see exhaustion and some stress and a bit of disappointment, but I can tell it's all directed at whatever is happening inside the White House.

"Okay." I tell him softly, leaning in for a gentle kiss.

I won't complain about the rigors of the job or his inability to be home for dinner at 6 every night. My one condition, however, is that he takes care of himself. So far, he's done an excellent job. His blood pressure is reasonable, he's doing a pretty good job of sticking to a heart healthy diet and he talks to Stanley Keyworth for a regularly scheduled session every two week. I make a point of not asking for details about their calls and Josh is honest with me if he's feeling overwhelmed by something. I know talking to someone on a regular basis has helped Josh deal with the stress of what happened to him last summer, and I'm so grateful that he's been proactive in his own mental health care.

He kisses my forehead and pulls me close. We stay in each other's arms for a few moments but I think he's about to fall asleep standing up.

"Lets go to bed," I suggest, hopping down and leading him back to the bedroom. He sheds his suit and climbs in, pulling me close and passing out virtually instantly.

I'm not far behind him, but when my alarm clock goes off at 5:30, I'm a bit concerned when he gets out of bed, too.

He kisses me goodbye and is on his way back to the office before I leave for work. Whatever is happening in the West Wing right now must be substantial.

I go about my day as if everything is normal, and for the most part it is.

Joan glances around to make sure we're alone before speaking as we grab our bags and walk out of the hospital.

"I doubt they'll be home tonight," she begins. I can't say that I disagree. "Want to grab dinner and a glass of wine?"

We agree to meet in an hour at the trattoria down the block from Josh's place.

We order our dinner and a glass of wine each and are immediately deep in conversation. It's been a while since we've had a chance to catch up like this and I'm glad to have the opportunity, though I wish it didn't come at the expense of Josh's stress level.

"Josh mentioned that your mom is going to be in town for a long weekend."

"Yeah." Joan sighs a bit. "She gets in on Thursday."

"This Thursday?" I furrow my brow. Josh didn't mention that detail and I wonder if he remembers himself.

"It was a last minute change of plans. I'm not exactly sure what the deal is, but I'm guessing, by the look on your face, Josh didn't get that memo?"

"No," I shake my head. "I don't think that he did. I'll tell him tonight."

"Thanks," Joan takes a sip of her wine and gives me a funny look.

"What?"

"It's just… I know I had my doubts about the two of you, but you're really a great couple. I wanted to say that. This is certainly the happiest I've ever seen Josh, and it's obvious with you, too. The way he looks at you? It's really something. I would never have guessed."

"Thanks." I blush a bit. "Everything really does feel perfect."

We split a dessert and exchange a hug before we go our separate ways, though I'll see her tomorrow at work.

When I get back to the apartment that night there's a blinking light on the machine and a message from Josh telling me he'll be late again. He makes it a point to tell me that he loves me and not to steal the covers from his side because he'll be home at some point.

I leave a note for him on the counter and wear his T-shirt to bed. Though I don't fully wake up when he slides in next to me, I'm instantly at peace again when he does.