A/N: Sorry for the long wait, I gave you guys an extra large update to make up for it. This one is really sad though, so. . . sorry?

Disclaimer: I don't own anyone from the clique. I own this plot, though. No stealing.

January 9, 2022

"I'm so happy for you, Kris. Really."

Kristen turned to Claire, her eyes shining with tears. "Thanks, sweetie. I love everything you did to organize this. You know how crazy and hormonal I am right now. Nothing ever gets done. But this is just. . . perfect."

Claire enjoyed the appreciation, as she did organize the baby shower, and Kristen had wanted to invite lots of people. It kind of had been a pain in the ass, but Claire didn't really have much else to worry about and it was a nice distraction. And maybe she was fulfilling what she never got the chance to do. So what?

She watched one of her best friends lay a hand on Kristen's big belly, smiling contentedly. Twins. As if Kristen didn't already have exactly what Claire would have died for, she was having two babies. Claire had only asked to one. Just one.

Massie had bought the two gorgeous, designer cribs. They were a soft white, with the plushest blankets adorning each. Kristen was having two boys. The room was a beautiful, sweet, all blues and yellows and greens. She'd gone with the zoo animal theme, so giant, adorable giraffes and elephants were hand-painted on the walls. A monkey swung on the wall above the cribs, birds were painted on the ceiling.

It was all Claire could do not to cry.

Kristen, as much as she complained, looked amazing. While she complained about feeling fat and the size of a house, Claire only saw a woman who looking completely filled with the greatest thing they could give - life. While Kristen cried about always looking like a mess, Claire saw the healthy glow of an expectant mother. And when Kristen called her up grumbling about cravings, Claire could only think of the baby boys inside of her, eating every single weird thing their mother gobbled down.

And it wasn't only Kristen. Dylan was six weeks pregnant, a fact she'd joyfully shared at the beginning of the shower. She was dating the adorable guy who helped with her successful morning show. Claire could see it now; a little girl or boy, with Dylan's crazy red curls.

If jealously was money, Claire would be goddamn rich.

Instead of wallowing in self pity as she so desperately wanted to, though, Claire took it upon herself to start picking up all the pastel wrapping paper and begin folding the five-hundred onesies Kristen had received.

It should be me, she wanted to scream. I should be having the baby! I was so close to having exactly what you have. She hastily wiped a lone tear away and cut herself another piece of cake. It was false hope, wanting the sweetness of the cake to make her feel better, but it was all she had. For the longest time since she'd lost the baby, she could only dream about a dark-skinned little boy with deep brown eyes, or a tiny, dainty blonde girl, flying through the air in her father's outstretched arms. The mental picture never failed to put a lump in Claire's throat. That's what you get for hoping, she thought. That's what you get.

"Oh, Claire-baby. Are you okay?" Massie came up from behind her, rubbing Claire's back lightly. It was then that Claire felt as if she was going to explode with the sheer sadness of it all.

"I'm fine, Mass. It's just hard to see her get exactly what I thought I was gonna have. I was so excited. And then Josh wasn't excited, but I stayed positive and what did it get me? Nothing. My baby died," There is was. Although Claire had told Massie the story, she'd never laid it out so cleanly before. But that was exactly what had happened. A marriage already buckling under the pressures of careers and day-to-day stress was further pushed over the edge by the loss of a child that Josh had reacted negatively about. Massie just stroked Claire's hair softly.

"It's okay, Claire. You'll get it someday. I know you will." She sounded so sure, like because she said it, it would come true. But Claire wanted to tell her that words didn't guarantee anything. They didn't last long with her and Josh. In the end, disappointment was lurking around every corner. Even good people were brought down by unfortunate circumstances.

It broke Claire's heart when Josh hadn't been initially excited about the baby, but it hurt worse when she finally came back home and spotted the thick, deep, red that spread through her bath water.

He'd held her that night, as she cried, and she'd almost thought then that they could make it work, that their marriage didn't have to end at all. But of course, babies don't save marriages. No matter if you have the baby or dream of it, the only people who can save anything are them.

Claire nodded fiercely, determined to stay positive.

Massie was the only one who knew about the miscarriage, besides Josh and her mother.

She'd tried to pretend that it had never happened, tried to pretend that she could do back to how things were, not even considering a child, but she couldn't. It was impossible.

You can't wipe away memories, not even the ones that hurt to keep.

January 29, 2019

Josh will not put his Blackberry down.

It makes Claire want to say something, but she doesn't, because she doesn't want to be that girl who always claims that "they never just talk anymore" and "I feel like I'm second to your job", but she does feel that way. He'll halt any conversation they're having to answer that fucking phone. She's started withholding sex, and she isn't sure if she's annoyed that he hasn't noticed yet, or that she probably wants the sex back more than he does. Whatever.

The point of all this is that he is becoming one of those annoying workaholic types of guys who always have a bluetooth clipped to their ear and you can never tell if they're on the phone or talking to you. More than once she's had an entire conversation with herself because she thought Josh was talking to her. Turns out he wasn't, and she was left stung and weirdly embarrassed.

Today is freezing, with temperatures dipping to the negative tens, and the windchill even lower. It snowed last night, big flat flakes that drizzled to the ground in a kamikaze mission. The wind whistled all night long. Now it's morning, and the house is warm and outside it's still too snowy to drive, because the plows in New York can be kind of slow. Josh dejectedly admitted that he won't go into work today.

Not that he should have gone in anyway, seeing as it's Sunday, but whatever. Claire is making pancakes.

She's trying so hard to make this a happy day. She already has stacks of bridal magazines that she wants to look through with Josh, and she has powdered sugar, because that's how he likes to eat his pancakes, and she has pulled out the old thick quilts of her grandmothers.

Okay, so she's excited. She loves snow days.

She even dug out her moms old, delicious hot chocolate recipe.

Josh is sitting at the table, smiling, looking adorable, when she sets the pancake down and pours him a glass of orange juice.

She's sitting across from his, grinning like a loon, happy that they can spend the day together, no distractions, no work, no shopping.

And then his phone rings.

He goes to reach for it as soon as he feels it vibrating from his pocket, and she drops her fork to the plate with a harsh clatter.

"Josh."

He pauses, hand in his pocket, and looks at her questioningly.

"One sec, baby, I just gotta take this."

Claire purses her lips, tries not to lose it.

"No, you do not have to take that call. You do not have to take every fucking call."

"Claire, it's one little work thing, and then I'll turn it off. I promise."

She's this close to throwing the plate of food on the floor and stomping off, but she holds it together. "Josh. Do not answer the phone. For the love of God, don't answer the fucking phone."

He scowls at her, and then pulls that godforsaken Blackberry out of his pocket.

Claire isn't sure what hurts more: the fact that he answers the phone, or the fact that he's looking at her like he hates her.

February 5, 2019

A week later their walking home from her favorite restaurant, a tiny little sushi place, and suddenly she starts crying.

"I hate your phone." She says suddenly, tears streaming down her cheeks. She tries to wipe them away quickly, ashamed of completely losing it in front of him. He stops, pulls her close to him and sighs into her collarbone.

"I'm sorry," he whispers and then pulls it out of his pocket and throws it into the Hudson. She gasps and then giggles.

"Josh! What did you just do?"

"I'll get a new one in a few days, but until then it's just you and me, okay?" She looks away because she thinks he might be crying too.

"Okay."

They do a shitload of wedding planning together before he gets his new phone and she can't stop smiling. They've picked out the menu, the cake, the silverware, the reception hall, the music, and planned their entire honeymoon.

She's always wanted to go to Italy, and he's always wanted to take her.

June 10, 2019

"I'm so fucking lucky," he whispers huskily into her ear after he's kissed her and they said 'I do' and the priest said he was allowed to kiss her and then everyone cheered and now the flower girl is chucking flower petals and he's clutching her hand like it's a lifeline and her mom is crying in the front row and Massie is cheering the loudest and even Alicia is smiling and ohmigodohmigodohmigod.

Perfect is the most overused word and yet today she can't stop saying it, thinking it, living it.

Her dress is a whitest white, her cheeks rosy pink with excitement, her hair golden blonde in an intricate style of braids and blue ribbon that matches her eyes (something blue, right?)

Massie did her makeup and Dylan lent her a stylist to do her hair. When her and Josh dance together for the first time as a married couple she sees him swallow the lump in his throat and he smiles lazily as he wipes away a tear snaking down his cheek. She promises never to admit it to anyone that he actually cried. . . Kemp would never let him hear the end of it.

Before they leave for the hotel she catches a glimpse of him talking quickly into his cell phone, something about "closing the deal" and "big client" and she turns away because they've made it this far, right? It's not that big of a deal.

August 15, 2019

All day long he's been gone, working working working, but that's pretty normal. She isn't worried about that.

Claire spent the day at home after throwing up profusely as soon as she woke up. And then proceeded to puke and feel just generally like shit since.

The capped pregnancy tests are hidden under the sink, pink lines bright.

At first she'd been a little freaked out but now she can't stop pursing her lips in excitement, thinking of girl names and boy names and where they can move that will have another bedroom.

Tonight she's going to tell her husband that she's pregnant.

The word hasn't gotten old; not yet. Husbandhusbandhusband. She thought that maybe everything would seem normal and boring after they got married but instead it's like they just changed what they call each other. Husbandandwife.

He gets home late but she doesn't care. She's made him dinner and now she's sitting in the kitchen, bouncing in excitement and anxiety. He grins as soon as he sees her.

"What's going on, you?" His brown eyes are sparkling. She swallows and then sighs peacefully.

"I have something to tell you." Her smile is so big he can't help but laugh lightly.

"And what is that?" He sits down at the table and looks down at the plate of spaghetti. She watches, pleased, while he takes a huge bite.

"I was really sick this morning. . ."

He frowns. "That's too bad. Why are you smiling?"

Claire looks up at him shyly. "I'm pregnant."

He starts coughing, and then abruptly drops the fork down onto the plate. She watches quietly while Josh stands up, races to the cupboard and pulls out a glass. She tries to keep her smile in place while he fills it with water and takes a long sip, finally done with the coughing.

"Josh?"

He coughs again, then looks at her in surprise. "Pregnant? Are you sure?"

She nods. "Uh huh. I took three tests. All positive. I was sick all day." Maybe now he'll finally smile, for chrissake.

Josh grimaces. "That's great, baby. It's just. . . the timing isn't really good, is it?"

Claire narrows her eyes. "Why not?"

Josh shrugs, sits down next to her again, tries to put his hand on her knee. She scoots away.

"We just don't really have the, um, cash right now. I mean, your photography is going great and I'm doing really well but. . . big apartments are really expensive. I mean, this one is already way more than we should be paying. And we are really still trying to get established in our careers and I don't know. I'm sorry sweetie-"

"Are you fucking kidding me?"

"Claire, please."

"Don't. I just told you that I'm pregnant with your child and the only thing you can do is bitch about timing? When is the right time, Josh? Will it be the right time when you finally put down your fucking phone? Will it be the right time when you take a day off?" She's screaming now. He tries to say something then but she puts up a hand to stop him.

"Because if that's when it will be the right time, then I guess we'll never have a right time, huh? Or do we need more money? Because last time I checked you were obsessed with working because you were making so damn much!"

She storms off to the bedroom. He follows.

"Baby that's not what I'm saying. I was just trying to explain why I wasn't excited right away. You know I would love a kid."

She pauses and he finally realizes that she's grabbed her old red duffel bag and is stuffing pairs of jeans and underwear and socks and shirts into it.

"Claire, stop it."

She walks into the bathroom without saying anything. He stands there, watching her helplessly throws her toothbrush and shampoo into the bag. She's crying but she won't say anything. He follows her to the front door.

"I'm going to my mother's for a while." She looks at him with the saddest look he's ever seen. "Please don't call me."

And then she grabs her purse and the duffel bag.

And leaves.

August 18, 2019

It's almost nine when he gets home that night, and finally he sees her shoes in the front hallway. Or rather, he almost trips over them but he doesn't really care, even though usually it bugs the crap out of him. At least she's home. It's been three whole days and even though it was really hard, he didn't call her. He was trying to listen as best as he could but fuck. . . it wasn't easy to go three days without hearing her voice.

The apartment feels really empty when she's not there, laughing, cooking, watching TV, wrinkling the sheets with him.

"Claire? Honey?" There's a light on at the end of the hall, from the bathroom.

He doesn't hear an answer.

"Claire? It's me. I'm happy your home."

The light seeps from under the bathroom door. He knocks gently, twice, before opening it softly.

"Sweetie, hi."

And then he sees.

Claire is in the bathtub, knees drawn up on her chest. Her eyes aren't meeting his; she isn't looking at him at all.

The water in the tub was clear at some point, but now all he sees is red.

He should be calling 911. He should be freaking out and getting help and is it supposed to bleed that much when there's a miscarriage?

"Oh, Claire. Baby." She's sniffling loudly and dangerously. He stares at the reddish-pink bath water and her big, sad eyes and then he leans down and pulls the drain so the water starts to disappear.

He reaches down and tries to pick her up and she leans into him, folding into the crook of his arm and releasing a loud, dry sob that makes his insides feel like stone and ice and Jesus Christ, did he do this?

"Claire. Claire, c'mon, we have to go to the hospital." She lets out another sob and he gets his arm under her knees and scoops her up. "I'm so sorry, sweetie. I'm so sorry."

The doctor is really sympathetic and assures them that it wasn't their fault. It almost never is, he explains. Most miscarriages are a result of a chromosomal problem and nobody ever has any control of that. Josh nods and tries to let the words make him feel better but they don't and they never will. They get to leave that night and she's okay but she isn't. He doesn't make her walk to the car, he isn't even sure if she can anyway. Her legs are like thin sticks of jelly and her balance isn't normal.

When they get home she takes off everything and they he gives her his dress shirt and she slips it on and she cries some more under the sheets. He wraps her up in him but it's not enough, it's never enough.

He could admit that he hates himself but he isn't sure if hate even covers it.

She finally speaks the next morning but that doesn't mean that anything's okay. It's not.