A/N: My apologies for the unforgivable turnaround time on this one, it refused to be finished sooner. On with the end, enjoy-
~-~-~-~-~-~
Saving Words For Making Sense
~-~-~-~-~-~
Addison tiptoes into her own house, throws the black purse on the kitchen counter, wiggles out of her heels, and trips up the stairs all the way into her bedroom. She grins at Kevin, sleeping peacefully in their bed, and hastily begins removing clothing. Then she scurries to him, hopping up onto the mattress as ungracefully as possible.
"Addison?" Kevin asks, eyes sealed shut.
"Hey..." she slurs.
"What time is it?" Kevin finally takes a look at her, and gets a strong scent of alcohol and cigarette smoke. "You had a good time I take it."
"I could be having a better time," she suggests, playfully running a hand along his bare chest.
"You're drunk," he tells her, noting that this is the third time in a month that she's come home mostly inebriated after hanging out with Mark Sloan.
"A little," she giggles and pulls the white comforter down to shimmy in next to him. "Sleep with me Kevin."
"I was trying to sleep alread- oh," he gasps as her hand firmly trails south under his sweats. "Ok."
~-~-~-~-~-~
"You two need to learn how to keep it down," Sam tells Addison later that day, tucked into the kitchen of the practice.
"Maybe you should learn to sleep with your windows closed," she refutes with a smirk, a little proud of herself and the mind blowing sex she almost completely remembers. Her aching thighs tell her it must have been fantastic, more than once, in more than one location but the details are on the blurry side.
"You guys used to be wonderful neighbors until," he grunts in disapproval stopping when Naomi shakes her head. Sam disappears willingly, wiping sleep from his exhausted face and taking in coffee like it's his salvation.
"He has a point you know," Naomi adds as Addison fills her glass with green gunk.
"Oh please Naomi, try and tell me that you and Sam-"
"I'm just saying...ever since Mark has been in town it's like you are trying to prove a point...to who I don't know but-"
"He has got nothing to do with this," Addison interjects immediately. Sure they go out and drink. Sometimes smoke, and she knows, oh God does she know but she needs it after certain days. And sometimes they dance, grinding up against on another until someone has to take a break but nothing has happened. Not even a kiss on the cheek goodnight. She's on her best behavior and Mark is trying diligently to stay interested in the blondes that swirl around him.
"You keep saying that and the funny thing is I believe you less and less each time. What are you doing?" Naomi rounds the counter and traps her friend up against the refrigerator.
"I'm not doing anything, I haven't done anything wrong Nae."
"But you want to."
"I'm happily married. And you were just complaining about us being loud during...s-so-"
"Sam was complaining, I'm well acquainted with your...sounds and how to sleep through them." Naomi pauses for a second, completely off track and way beyond the point she is trying to prove here. "You were out with Mark last night?"
"Yes," Addison answers in a fury, slamming her glass down on the surface next to her. "We got a drink after I my surgery was finished at the hospital. We ran into each other in the elevator- I didn't plan...anything."
"And the kids?"
"Kevin was off yesterday, what are you getting at?"
"I'm just saying...when was the last time you and Kevin went out for drinks?" Naomi pats Addison's shoulder.
"I..." she pauses in thought. "It's...that's...Naomi, I'm tired of saying this. I'm tired of trying to convince everyone in the world that he is just a friend. Because he needs a friend and nothing more. I thought you trusted me." She heads toward the door, leaning against the polished glass. "I thought out of everyone you would get this."
~-~-~-~-~-~
"No one likes that we are friends again," Mark tosses at her, later that week as they skillfully navigate through their drinks at their new favorite bar. It's new, trendy, and the age curve is just perfect.
"Not really," Addison grunts and swirls the stick around her glass some more.
"Maybe we should-"
"Look, Mark I'm not interested in what the rest of the world thinks about this. They don't know us, they don't know what happened and if they can't understand that we can still be friends then...they don't get to have an opinion. We're being adults...this is...good. Healthy."
He watches her hands flail around cutely, something that he has always adored and swallows the thickness that has worked into his throat. It's been great, wonderful, and all other adjectives that he can't think of when she is within ten feet. Nothing has happened and he thinks, more and more now, that maybe nothing will; that maybe she was telling the truth when she said he needed a person and she wanted to be it.
But other times, when his hand slides along her curves longingly, or when his body responds to the way she sways her hips, he thinks this may be a horrible idea. One set up for failure and history repeating. He loved her then and she was off the market and now he probably loves her if he would allow himself to think about it and she is still taken. Nothing good can ever come from this set of circumstances...or maybe, maybe something could. She's got him upside down and backwards, left to play catch up, as usual.
"Fuck them," Mark nods, ordering up another scotch.
She smirks, still enjoying his appropriate sense of timing with less than polite words. "Yes. That." After another long sip she succumbs to the numbness. "We dancing tonight?"
He looks down at her heels, shiny and delicate. "We may. If you want."
"Yes," she decides and gulps back the remaining droplets before reaching out for his hand.
It may seem silly that they are pushing over the hill and still enjoy moving to the beat but she's always had a thing for dancing. She likes the way the anger and resentment of the day washes away, she likes getting her heart pumping a little harder, and admittedly it isn't half bad that Mark gets to hold her close and pretend to do something other than two step. He tries, and he's willing to try. For her, that is.
"How was work?" he asks, edging closer and glaring at the man with dark hair in the corner eying his woman.
"Work...was work," she sighs and knows he will take it the right way. It's been so nice to talk to someone who gets it.
"It's getting old," Mark admits.
"It kind of is," she says sadly. She never thought it would. Saving people, fixing them, and all the glory that came with it. She thought she'd be doing it until she was one hundred. But, in truth, it takes its toll and leaves its branding emblem. Really, she's had just about enough.
"It used to be exciting, looking for surgeries, trying to learn everything, trying to beat you at everything but now...I'm running out of things."
"Mark Sloan is finally growing up," Addison laughs loudly. "I never thought I'd see the day that you wanted more than a woman in your bed at night and a scalpel in your palm during the day."
"There are more important things." He holds a hand up when she tries to speak. "I know it took me a long time, longer than most people in the entire world but...I get it." His eyes shuffle to the floor. "I'm so sorry Addison."
She grins weakly, not liking the sudden turn of conversation. "Callie really messed you up."
He shakes his head violently, liquor sloshing. It was never her. It was residual feelings for this very relationship and all of the realizations he never wanted before. When he moved down here he didn't think he had a chance in hell but...he had to check. He had to be positive before he moved on and committed to anything else. "Something like that."
~-~-~-~-~-~
"Addison?" Naomi pokes her head into the dimly lit office. "You're still here."
"Yeah." Addison clears her throat and looks up from the file she wasn't reading. "Catching up."
"Everything is okay?" Naomi takes a small step forward, very aware of the face that her friend is wearing and everything it leads to.
"Everything is great," she answers bravely. It's all been so...fantastic, which is the problem. Everything that was wrong, everything that seemed too good to be true kind of fades away when Mark is around. "What are you doing here so late?"
"I had a patient who was running late and didn't want to reschedule."
"Ah."
Naomi lingers for a second longer, fingering the cool metal of the doorway. "Addison-"
"I can't just walk away from him Nae...I can't do that again. He deserves someone who will..." She rises from her place and grabs her black coat, carefully buttoning it.
"It's hard," Naomi acknowledges.
"It's impossible."
~-~-~-~-~-~
As the weeks slip by it gets easier to swallow. The drink dates gather in amount and frequency. The conversation flows without awkward pauses. They speak of the old times, the good times and what they now know. They talk about a few people in Seattle, Addison once trying to grace upon Callie unsuccessfully and Mark sometimes asking about Kevin and the kids, to which he gets one word answers. They have a short list of subjects not to bring up, things not to push.
And the magical thing is it works. Drinks turn into dinners and dinners sometimes into walks along crowded sidewalks. Simply sharing, enjoying the company of another, or someone who has been there through the good, bad, and very ugly.
But now, as she holds her screaming son, she's beginning to think she may have been an idiot. She rubs his back, slowly tracing circles, swaying from side to side as Kevin's car begins to rumble out of the driveway and heads toward a quick shift that he voluntarily bolted out of the door for.
Daddy!!! repeats over and over and over until she wants to scream right along with him.
"Make him stop," her daughter instructs grumpily marching downstairs in her purple pajamas, red hair already crinkled and knotted.
"I'm trying Bry, just go back up and sleep." Addison points toward the stairs as Kale hiccups in her arms and winds up for another round, face still puffy and stained with salty tears.
"Where's Daddy?"
"Work sweetie. He'll be here in the morning." She kisses her daughter's head and gives her a little nudge toward her very yellow room.
"He wants his bunny," Bryher says sleepily, rubbing her eyes and setting down one bare foot on the wooden stairs.
She pauses, wonders why she hadn't thought of that, and then responds, "Goodnight Bryher, love you." She hears a faint remark, not the one that used to make her heart twitch and begins searching for the pale blue patched bunny that gets drug around everywhere from the supermarket to the beach. He turns up, astoundingly, in the two year old's bed and Addison takes the advantage of trying to get him to settled down. She pushes back his mess of hair, and kisses a red check, letting her hand run down his soft face.
Undeniably, they both strongly resemble her but she sees a lot of Kevin in her son, in his mannerisms mostly, but also his eyes, the eyes that are telling her that she's doing something wrong. "Kale, Dad will be back soon. Stop it."
What she gets is a piercing Daddy! complete with elongated syllables and a whiny tone. She knows he is overtired and without a nap on the day but a little piece of her breaks, cracks and she pulls him back to her and wanders to the master bedroom, Winston the bunny hanging dangerously from her spare hand.
~-~-~-~-~-~
Kevin climbs through his house, over a treacherous maze of toys in the hallway and finds his wife with their son on her chest, trailing a finger up and down his spine (the oldest trick in the book of Kale).
"He okay?"
Addison shakes her head and prays that her own tears don't begin. "He just missed you."
Kevin smiles and ditches his boots, tugging on his belt and letting the black pants fall to the ground. He leaves the shirt and his boxers and clambers onto the soft sheets. "He misses you too."
"I hate this stage," Addison tells him. "It's exhausting."
"You sleep at all?" He asks, switching gears. It's not a stage that he was talking about and they both know it.
"Couldn't." She bites her lip, teeth digging into the tender flesh.
"I'll go put him in bed-"
"No," she cuts in. "I just...want to hold him."
"Okay," he nods and then pulls the covers up over his waist. "Night Addie."
"Night," she replies, noticing for the first time the distinct lack of warmth in his voice; wondering where the three extra words that always used to follow that sentence went.
~-~-~-~-~-~
She's tried to cut back, a little, so her children can remember who she is and so that she can still be satisfied in a way she hasn't been in such a long time. Mark was the magical solution the entire time but the potion definitely has some side effects, ones that she is not willing to accept or deal with. She wishes this wasn't so difficult, that it could be twelve years ago where two or three people could hang out without anyone thinking something horrible. Apparently she has lost that right of expectancy.
"Kevin," she pushes on his fingers that are digging into her hip, "you're hurting me."
"Oh," he gawks, looking down at his own hand and loosening his grip. "Sorry." He presses his lips to her check and surveys the area again, looking for Mark Sloan. The man seems to be disinterested with where Addison is in the room compared to the conversation he's holding with a brunette but every now and again Kevin can see his eyes hesitate in their direction.
Addison glances at her watch, aware of the fact that time is moving painfully slow. This is unequivocally one of the most boring functions she has ever attended, even if it does have an open bar. "Wanna head home early?"
Kevin frowns, not wanting to scurry away before his point is proven. "Don't you have to be here for work?"
Addison take stock of the fourth floor, their newest addition, all decked out and then declines, "No. I don't think anyone will notice."
"Naomi might," he looks over at the woman who is beaming, clearly proud of their new accomplishment.
"Kevin...we have the entire night to ourselves and you want to stay here?" she dares, raising her eyebrows and turning to face him.
"I just don't want you to get in trouble," he explains and pecks her lips, persisting longer than appropriate for her public/work displays of affection guideline and not caring.
She detaches herself from him, noting that his voice is far off. "What is...why?"
"I just told you-"
"You aren't even looking at the person you are speaking to," she argues and turns around to see Mark with his arm around some woman's waist. "Great." Storming off really does sound like the best option, considering her night out with her husband can't even be about them but instead she downs her drink and excuses herself to call and check in with Maya who is watching both of her temperamental and flu ridden children.
Kevin sighs and reaches out for a glass when the waiter bounces by. He misses her, the kids do also, but mostly him. He misses the way she used to be around them, so...different and if he had to guess possibly less true to herself. The logic was merely that he thought she could use a night out with a friend every once in a while. He did not expect it to turn into a weekly event that surrendered their time together; he wasn't expecting her to be so damn happy about it.
So, with about three glasses of bubbly champagne in his system, he walks over to Mark Sloan and watches as the short woman makes up a reason to get away.
"Hey man," Mark greets, reaching out and taking his hand.
"Hey," Kevin smiles and gets ready to begin.
From her view point all Addison can see is Kevin's back and Mark's tight lipped facial expression. It is bound not to end well so she hurriedly rushes Maya off the phone, saying that she doesn't need to talk to Bryher about anything and nearly runs to intervene. "Hello," she purrs, slipping in close to Kevin, who once again restrains her tightly against him.
Mark nods and drinks, "Naomi plan this thing?"
"Yeah," Addison smiles, knowing what he is about to say. "Boring," they both agree at the same time, bashfully hiding faces when their timing upsets the other member of the trio.
"I think it's nice," Kevin counters.
"I bet Sam thinks so too," Mark laughs and grins when Addison's mouth turns up in appreciation.
"What? I mean she obviously cares about the place a lot," Kevin states, dipping his fingernails into Addison's green slinky dress, that he definitely plans on removing soon.
"No, we know," Addison attempts, "It's just..."
"So Naomi," Mark finishes for her and they both laugh again, this time Addison noting her husband's discomfort.
"Kevin, how are the bad guys?"
Kevin clears his throat, not at all prepared to take a hit on his profession, "Plentiful."
Mark refuses to reply and instead gets lost in Addison's pose. Wound into the man next to her, yet resisting as much as humanly possible, her body tight and uncomfortable. "Want to dance?" He offers a hand out to her, daring her to set them both free.
"No," she says softly, wincing as Kevin's other hand territorially comes around and pulls her flush against him. "We need to get going, the kids are sick."
"Sorry to hear that," Mark nods cordially and tells them goodnight, secretly wishing that he was the one taking her home, children and all.
~-~-~-~-~-~
"I didn't say anything to him-"
"I don't want to talk about it anymore!" Addison yells just loudly enough, barely over the hum of the radio as they come to a stop in traffic.
"I do," Kevin shouts back. "Maybe I want to talk about it for once."
"What is there to say Kevin?" Addison challenges and deftly swipes on another layer of lipstick, trying to distract herself from the conversation and potential break down.
"I don't like him."
"I don't care!" She laughs incredulously. Of course he doesn't like Mark, what man in the world does?
"Well, I don't want you to hang out with him anymore," Kevin says, bringing his voice down and letting it quiver in the dark, damp air of the car.
"You don't get to do that," Addison refutes.
"I have a say Addison. I'm your husband!"
"And Mark is my friend. We aren't ten years old and you aren't my father. I choose my own friends, thank you very much."
"You are never home," Kevin attempts, changing the avenue of the fight, trying to make her at fault. "The kids don't even recognize you-"
"That's ridiculous!"
"Kale always wants me and up until two months ago if you were in the house he refused to let you put him down. What is that? And Bryher...she doesn't even talk about you anymore. She doesn't ask where you are or when you are coming home-"
"Stop it!" She instructs demandingly. She won't hear this, nothing about how she is as a mother. She loves her kids, and that is unarguable. There has to be a balance. It just may take a while to find it.
"And you don't talk to me at all. I know it was rough there for a minute but I thought we were okay. You used to at least tell me about your day and now, now I see you more asleep then I do awake!"
"We have busy jobs," Addison interjects. God knows they are both workaholics.
Kevin looks down at the steering wheel and loses it, just for a second, his composure as controlled as the blaring horns intermittently going off outside their windows. "We have a problem Addison and you won't even take me seriously enough to discuss it."
"That might be because this isn't a discussion. It's you, yelling at me about feeling inadequate around Mark Sloan who I shouldn't even need to defend and yet you make me. You make me tell you over and over that he is a friend and that it is nothing and that you are the only one I want. I'm sick of it. You don't want to believe me, then fine. I couldn't care less." She sniffles, the stupid tears finding their way out of her eyes, and recoils instinctively when he reaches for her hand.
Kevin runs the rejected fingers through his hair and closes his mouth. She has a point but he could've sworn that he did too.
~-~-~-~-~-~
Getting a reoccurring sense of déjà vu Naomi hovers into Addison's office, smiling at the two sleeping redheads on her couch. "Working late?"
"Avoiding home," Addison answers honestly and clears the take out food off her desk, making space for Naomi to take a seat and stare at her inappreciatively.
"Trouble in paradise?" Naomi teases and instead takes a seat next to her godson, brushing a rogue wave out of his line of sight.
Addison purses her lips and drops her head, giving up the charade for another person. "I don't know what to do. We fought and now...we aren't talking except in front of the kids. It can't turn out like that again Nae, I can't...take that again."
"It's not going to turn out any way. Just talk to him Addison." Naomi shuffles back on the couch when Kale stirs and pulls him into her arms.
"He won't and I can't stand to be there." She pushes a few more papers around her desk, reorganizing for the morning. The work morning that she will be returning to in less than eight hours.
"Addison, you already know the solution to the problem and don't look at me with those innocent eyes and pretend you don't. Let him go."
"That's not going to fix...what happened with Kevin," she pouts, surprised over the last two weeks how much she has missed his embrace and kind words. She never took him for granted but it's still been a shocking journey. She's suddenly overwhelmed with loss for all those moments she thought were too perfect; the ones that were riddled with guilt and unworthiness.
"Couldn't hurt."
"I shouldn't have to give up Mark just to make my marriage work. I shouldn't have to let go of a friend just because he is insecure and afraid-"
"I'm not going to debate this with you," Naomi interrupts. "You know and have known since day one what I thought about you and Mark being friends. It doesn't work and now, now you are hurting other people Addison. It's not a harmless relationship. It never is with him." She situates Kale on a stiff pillow and covers him with his dingy baby blanket. "Is he really worth everything you've made for yourself in the last few years? Everything you've worked for?"
~-~-~-~-~-~
"C-Callie," Addison stutters and pulls back her front door letting her in. "What are you-"
"I need your help," Callie says gently, hand resting on her growing stomach.
Addison ushers her into the living room, kicking a dump truck out of the way as they plow along. "Sit."
"You have kids?" Callie laughs, looking around at the house and the family portraits mixed in with the hodgepodge of decorative art.
"Two," Addison acknowledges. "Bryher and Kale. They're five and two."
"They're cute." Callie smiles at one of the pictures, noting how everything seemed to have turn out for Addison. "You found a man even."
"Kevin," she tells her, "he's upstairs putting the kids to sleep but he'll be down shortly." And thank the heavens for this buffer so they don't have to pretend to be too busy to look at one another. "So, you need help?"
"I need Mark back," Callie says weakly. "I thought I could do this...without him. I thought I was strong enough but I can't."
Addison's brow furrows in confusion, certain that Callie was the villain here. "What do you mean?"
"I'm having his kid. Kids, plural, actually. And...I told him. I thought he would be happy. We weren't trying for children but we were together. He ran. I mean, like an idiot, I expected it to be all perfect but he just left town and said he needed time to sort stuff out and that he'd call. Which he hasn't."
"Oh." And suddenly it becomes one of those moments where everything you know just shifts into a parallel universe. Of course he ran out on her, of course he lied about it and of course she believe him.
"I was hoping you'd seen him...I need to talk to him, or maybe you could talk to him for me. Explain that we don't need to get married and have the dog and the house. I just need him. I can't...do this alone."
Addison squeezes her hand quickly, without thought. "You are never alone Cal."
"Thank you." She wipes at her tears, blames the outrageous hormones, and prepares to plead for assistance, proving once and for all that she is still a weak woman whose feelings waver and is rather codependent on the man she thought had been reformed.
"Hey, new person, in my living room," Kevin jokes and takes a spot next to Addison. "I'm Kevin."
"Sorry," Addison jumps in. "Kevin this is Callie, we worked together in Seattle and Callie this is Kevin, my husband."
"Man candy," Callie laughs and Addison nods adding to Kevin's confusion.
"What brings you to the sun Callie?" Kevin asks as they die down.
"Baby daddy drama," Callie grimaces and returns her hand to the twins who take sincere pleasure in pulverizing her insides.
"Mark," Addison clarifies and it takes everything in Kevin to keep it cool.
"Well, I'll leave you to it. Night Add. Callie, nice to meet you." He kisses the top of her head and drifts to the second level of the house hoping this plays out like he wants.
"Callie, I don't-"
"Please Addison, I know we suck at staying in touch and you don't owe me anything-"
"Okay," she agrees easily, watching the pregnant woman a few feet away get very worked up. "Okay."
~-~-~-~-~-~
"Mark!" Addison yells down the hall of St. Ambrose, making damn certain that he hears her, along with every other nurse in between them. "Mark Andrew Sloan, stop this instant!"
He freezes, knowing this has something to do with the visit he got at his hotel room last night from Callie. "What?" he snarls and gripes when she takes a hold of his arm and drags him into an on call room.
"You lied to me! You said Callie cheated on you-"
"No, I didn't. You said that and I let you believe it."
"Oh, big difference. What the hell were you thinking Mark? She's having your kids!" Addison taps a finger against his forehead and he stutters back into the closed door.
"I'm not talking about this with you. It's none of your business."
"It is, you are my friend, Callie is my friend. This is my business."
"Just stay out of it Addison." His hand blindly reaches for the door handle needing an escape.
"She came to me Mark, at my house, begging me to tell her where you were. Be a man and grow up. You don't have to be with her if that's not what you want but you need to be there for your children and so far all you've done is abandon them."
"They're better without me-"
"Don't even start with that pitiful excuse. It doesn't matter if they'd be better without you, they still need you. She needs you right now and if you are going to lead her on again for a few more months then I will take it upon myself to make sure that she does everything in her power to make your life a living hell." She pushes him aside roughly, and slams the door as she marches back out into the bustling hospital.
It had to be done. Which is precisely why he never told her the truth to begin with.
~-~-~-~-~-~
"Maybe we could go away? You could get a weekend off," Addison suggests, rolling over into the cold spot between their bodies and trying to snuggle up to him.
"Maybe," he placates and then turns onto his side, away from her, and switches off the lamp.
"Kevin, I want this to work."
"Yeah," he mumbles into his pillow. Callie being with Mark lately has turned her attention back to him which basically just makes the whole thing worse.
"Please talk to me," she begs, bordering on the edge of hysterics.
He flips over and eyes her angrily. "Addison, I may be a cop but I'm not completely oblivious."
"I know that," she objects, "I never said you were stupid Kevin."
"You expect me to think that if Callie weren't hanging around this last week we would even be having this conversation? Hell, that you would even be home right now instead of out drinking."
"I-"
"Save it, I'm tired."
"Kev-in," she cries, her voice cracking in the dim light of the moon. He's never been this angry with her. "P-please."
He listens to the sobs and after five minutes swallows the lump in this throat and pulls her over to him. He frowns when she buries her head in his neck and begs him not to leave her and says that she'll do better; she'll be better, just to not give up. He strokes her hair, and brushes away her tears not promising that it is okay, or that it will be, simply that he is there and to calm down.
When she finally takes a shaky breath in nearly thirty minutes later, without the aching in her voice, she tells him, "I love you."
"I love you too Addison," he says genuinely and pulls her closer, letting her get ready for sleep. "I want this to work out too."
Oh, the things she would trade to just go back a few months and deal with the perfect surreal aspects of her life.
~-~-~-~-~-~
Mark paces Addison's office nervously. One step forward, then another. The stupid receptionist said she would be done ten minutes ago but she wouldn't be Addison if she wasn't a slightly behind schedule.
"Mark," Addison gasps, looking up from her file when she runs into something thick. "Jesus, you scared me."
"Sorry," he replies earnestly and pulls down the hand covering her chest. Then he freezes, gets stuck with their palms pressed together. "I-"
"I need," she pulls her hand away and brushes it against her skirt.
"I told Callie that I would try," he laments stepping back and tugging on a strand of her hair, letting his fingertips faintly track over her jaw.
"That's good," she mutters softly, lost in his touch.
"You," he whispers next to her ear, "were right."
She smirks, "It's a gift." Naturally, she moves forward when he backs away, not sure of what is happening, only knowing that she isn't the one who can stop.
"Addison," Mark warns when she's within inches. He's powerless around her and yes, it is absolutely pathetic and no, he has no self control. He's just a pawn. He finds her red wavy locks and tangles a few fingers at the base of her neck, breath catching when her hips bump into his.
Addison closes her eyes, taking in the warm scent of him. Light and spicy. Free and all encompassing. She'd devour it if she could. "Mark."
Then they dangle on the ledge, in limbo waiting for someone to trip, waiting for the inevitable to happen; flat out daring the universe to prove to them that they've grown up and moved on.
When he hesitates and reality slaps her across the cheek she moves away from his puffy lips, parted with anticipation. "We can't do this anymore. We can't be friends."
Mark's pupils dilate in fear. His world is about to fall down again. "You said-"
"You...you have Callie and-"
"I don't want her," he says, letting the implication that he wants her fall silent.
"We can't," she tells him tearfully, letting the last relic of her old life begin to slip away. She should've known better. "I have Kevin. I'm married...and I won't be that woman again. I can't."
"Can't or won't?" he asks angrily, taking a seat on the edge of her desk. "Are you even happy with him?"
She doesn't answer. She can't. Her heart is screaming something completely different than what her head is telling her to do and right now she's actively choosing not to listen to either. Maybe he is just supposed to be her perpetual what-if, maybe she's not ever supposed to know what could've been.
"We're fine," Mark blasts through her thoughts, "we're good as friends Addie."
Addison shakes her head in refusal. "I'm falling in love with you Mark."
When she turns her back on her own office and graples with the handle she hears him yell, "You can't walk away Addison. You made me need you, you did this!"
~-~-~-~-~-~
She no longer cringes when Kevin wraps his arms around her waist and rests his chin on her shoulder. She doesn't contemplate the many ways she could screw this up, because she's already proven to herself that it's not a risk she can handle any longer. A life was made, by her, and she'll be damned if she loses it again because of her stupid heart. Kevin may not be the great love of her life but she does love him and in the end it's enough. It's all she has.
When the sun barrels in through the compact slits of wooden blinds she scoots a little to the left and relishes in the act of her husband beginning to rouse. He reaches out across the two sleeping children between them and toys with the hem of the white shirt, wishing her a good morning with a look on his face that tells her she made the right choice; the only choice, no matter how unfortunate and self sacrificing.
Every second is exactly as it was the second before, exactly as it is supposed to be.
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