A/N: That's right, I updated TWO stories. I'm mega proud. I plan on wrapping this one up quickly, 'cause I gots other things running around my head and I'm feeling ambitious.

Disclaimer: Nope, still haven't obtained rights to Clique. Weird, right?

May 28, 2022

"Jim, I swear to God, you better remember to call catering and tell them that the vegetarian part of our meal is vital. They have fucked it up the last three times and our vegetarian client will rip my head off if he has to suffer through another empty lunch. You know he was pissed last time." Josh Hotz was sitting in his posh, extremely modern office, barking orders at his eager, young assistant through the small intercom on his desk. He didn't mean to be a complete asshole, but it happened. He couldn't help but be overly anal about their lunch orders. They were known for how well they treated their clientele, and he couldn't afford any more messy mistakes.

"Yessir," Jim said and then he disconnected. Seconds later, though, he was back on.

"Uh, sir, You have a visitor."

Josh rolled his eyes and went to reply.

"Jim, you know I can't be bothered. That meeting is in fifteen minutes and it won't last long, whoever needed to visit and couldn't call ahead of time can wait."

Silence. Then. . .

"I'm not so sure of that, Josh." He sounded nervous. Whoever wanted to see Josh clearly held more power than him.

"Who is it?" he asked innocently, yet secretly nervous it was his boss or something. Even though that was really out of character for his boss.

"It's your ex-wife, sir." Jim had barely finished his sentence before Claire was pushing the door to Josh's office open and smiling softly at him. Well, it was more of a grimace, but he chose to ignore that. Instead he shifted around nervously and hoped she didn't notice the wedding ring he still wore.

Okay, so he was pathetic, what was new?

"Hey, Josh." She looked good. Like all the stress in her body had left in the time they had not been together. It was a good look on her. She was still giving him that sort of grimace smile, and he wasn't sure what to do about it.

"Hey, Claire." He tried to hide the massive grin that threatened to overtake his face, but had a feeling he was failing. She was back. In his office!

"So I had something to tell you. . ." She sounded nervous, and he knew that she was because she wasn't looking at him. She was turned towards the giant aquarium that took up one wall of his office, her hand following the clownfish that swam in figure eights. She was smiling at it. She had always loved those damn fish.

God, he was so in love with her it hurt.

He wasn't sure how to respond to her, so he was quiet, letting her continue. She was preoccupied with following that fish with her finger. She had gotten her nails done, which was new, and she hadn't bitten her fingernails lately, also new. He was busy studying her hands while she played with the fish. And that's how he noticed the ring. But it wasn't the ring he had given her. It was brand-new.

"Jesus Christ, Claire, we haven't even been divorced for six months!" This could not be happening. Claire was already engaged to some guy? Wait, what if she wasn't engaged? What if she had married him already? What the fuck?

Claire had turned to him abruptly, eyes wide. She fiddled with the ring, something she'd always done, and he stared. She had this "Oh, shit" look on her face and he couldn't help but fall apart.

"You're married, aren't you?" he asked, fully prepared for the answer to be "yes". The way she was looking at him, she had already answered his question.

Her dark eyes became even darker as she glared at him. "No, I'm not married. And why are you so pissed? God, Josh, settle down." She huffed and sat herself down in the chair in front of his desk. Leaning forward and settling her gaze on him, she pursed her lips and frowned. She was fiddling with the ring again. He was torturing himself by staring.

"I actually came because I wanted to invite you." She paused. "I wanted to do it in person, I just thought it would be better." She then reached inside her purse, which she had set on the floor, and pulled out a cream-colored envelope. Josh took it from her hand slowly when she held it out to him, his eyes never leaving his.

"Who is it?" he asked, not bothering to open the invitation. She sighed.

"That's probably the main reason I wanted to tell you in person."

He stared into her eyes for thirty seconds straight before he leaned back in his chair and started breathing rapidly. He wondered what Jim would do if he started to hyperventilate. Probably bring in a paper bag for him to breathe into.

"You're marrying Cam Fisher, aren't you?" It hurt to even say the words, but he knew he was right. He had to be.

She didn't answer. The silence did it for her. He sucked in a breath and leaned forward.

"Wow, Claire." He looked pissed. "Just. . . wow. Didn't think you'd accept unhappiness this easily." At that she gasped and stood up defiantly.

"You are such an ass, Josh. Go fuck yourself. Seriously, I come here, I tell you in person, I give you a goddamn invitation. I invited you to my wedding because I wanted to be nice and you just. . . ugh!" She picked up her purse and when to leave, but he stood up quickly.

"Claire!" She stopped and turned around, eyes stormy, tears waiting to fall.

"I'm sorry." He sighed. "Consider this me RSVPing." He sat back down and tried his best to smile semi-friendly. "When's the wedding?" He looked down at the unopened invitation in his hands, trying not to punch something.

Claire took her hand off the door handle and tried to smile back.

"Thanks. And you could really just open the invitation." He looked back up at her and raised his eyebrows before she gave in. "Two weeks. June tenth."

And then she had left, with a smile.

Josh sat back in his chair, running his hands through his hair.

"Why did I just agree to this?"

And then, the intercom, which had been on this whole time, piped up.

"I'm sorry to hear about this new development, sir."

Josh turned towards it in shock and surprise.

"Fuck off, Jim."

August 18, 2021

When Claire arrived home at seven at night, she almost had a heart attack.

"Oh!" She jumped in surprise at the sight of her husband in the kitchen, hurriedly trying to put together dinner. Then, when the surprise died off, she smiled. He never got home this early, anymore. It was nice.

"Hey, babe. You want spaghetti? Because it's all I can make." He gives her a goofy grin and she walks over, kisses him. It seems like it's been a long time since she kissed him in the kitchen at seven at night. First of all, he was never home that early, and when she did see him, they were in bed. He always got in late and left early. In fact, it felt like lately all the contact she'd had with him was a kiss on her forehead, or her shoulder, as he was crawling into bed.

It sucked.

She'd talked to him about it, before. His workaholic-ness had been present for a long time, since they were engaged. At first it was answering his phone, or emailing coworkers at completely inappropriate times. Now, he was never home.

She wasn't sure if she was really happy about him making her dinner, or really sad. Today marked two years since he'd come home to find her in the tub, ready to die because she'd had a miscarriage.

It had hurt. It had really fucking hurt.

He was smiling at her, now, taking her bag and setting it by her shoes and taking her hand to lead her to the table. When she was finally bathed in the light of the kitchen, he could see the dark circles under her eyes, the way her smile no longer lit up the room.

They hadn't tried to get pregnant after the miscarriage. Instead, they both refused to speak about it. He'd tried to hard to get her to talk, to tell him what she was feeling, but she had crawled into herself. They had sex, but it was different. They watched TV, when he was home, but that was different, too, somehow.

She was angry at him for not being excited about the baby when it was a real possibility. He was angry with her because she didn't think he felt bad, at all. She would never have ever admitted it, and it only sat in the darkest parts of her mind, but secretly she sometimes wonders if him being upset about the pregnancy brought on the miscarriage.

Logically, probably not. The doctor had said chromosomal issue, and the words stuck in her brain, but there were times when she laid in bed at night, having dreamt about the baby they almost had.

And she almost hated him for it.

She would never say it. She hated herself for feeling this way, for blaming everybody when clearly she didn't have anything tangible to blame. It was nobody's fault, and yet she felt as if it was easier if she could pin the problem on someone or something.

He, on the other hand, sometimes hated himself. He hated that he couldn't get her to talk about what had hurt her so badly. He hated that she retreated into herself after she lost the baby. Sometimes he wanted to ask her why she had pinned so many hopes on the child they were never even sure they had, and then again sometimes he hated himself for feeling this way.

He hated that he couldn't do anything right.

When he was at home, she was sad and nothing felt right, and when he was at work, he felt guilty for not being there. He couldn't get her to talk to anyone else about what happened, and she lashed out at him when he admitted that he'd told Massie. Someone needed to know, right?

She was hurting and she wouldn't let him help her. That sucked. That sucked really bad.

Tonight was supposed to be all about new beginnings. When she saw the dinner laid out, she was touched, and when she saw his Blackberry, sitting next to his plate, she sighed wearily.

What was new?

He had even lit a little candle. It was cinnamon scented and completely not right for the occasion, but she could help but smile at his effort.

He seemed nervous and fluttered around her, getting her a glass of wine and kissing her on the cheek before they started eating.

She was eating slowly, waiting for something, anything to happen, and then it did.

"Claire, I have a proposition." He was grinning. She narrowed her eyes.

"What? What's up?"

She wasn't sure what she expected, just that something was about to come to a head. She was scared.

"I was headhunted. I got a job offer." He's still smiling.

"Oh." She sets her fork down and smiles, then. "Well, tell me about it!"

He was smiling more when he began. "It's better pay and we could get a better apartment. It could be a fresh start for us, you know?" He suddenly looked nervous again. "We'd have to move though."

She looked confused. "Is it in Boston or something?" She honestly couldn't imagine being too far from New York. She loved this city like nothing else.

Josh took a deep breath. "It's in L.A."

Claire was coughing then, a sputtering mess. "What? Los Angeles?" She looked shocked. She looked like she would never in a million years move to L.A. Josh could feel it slipping away.

Truthfully, he had no interest in this, but at the same time, they needed something. Something had to change.

"Josh, I love you, baby, but I can't move to L.A. I love New York. I have my job." She looked like she felt really, really, bad. Josh smiled.

"Um, don't worry about it. Really, I just think we need. . . something. Claire, I don't know what's happening to us, but something needs to change or I don't know if we'll make it." There. Honesty. It was all out there.

He had never been so brave in his entire life.

Claire simply stared back at him, eyes wide. "What do you mean?"

Josh sighed. "Baby, I don't know, really. You just don't talk to me. I know you said no already, but I really think you need to talk to someone. I don't think you've recovered from the mis-"

"Stop it!" She stood up, eyes getting teary, face angry. She hated when he came close to saying the word. If he just didn't say it, if they just didn't talk about it, it could be like it never happened. "Just stop it! Just because I don't want to move to L.A. doesn't mean that you need to act like something's wrong with me!"

Josh was standing, then, too. "You know it's not abut that, Claire. We don't talk anymore. You clearly aren't getting enough sleep. I just think you need to talk to someone, or see a doctor, or something. I don't know what more I can do." He was ready to get on his knees and clasp his hands together. He was desperate to have his wife back.

Claire clenched her teeth. "We don't talk? Well excuse me, maybe I should point out that you're never home. When are we supposed to talk, huh, Josh? And as for sleep, I surely get more than you do, unless you sleep at work. I wouldn't be surprised if you did."

Josh ran his hands through his hair, desperately trying not to pull it out.

"I would be home more, Claire, but things are just different between us. I don't know what to do, or what to say, or anything. I wish you were happy again."

He had known that she had taken pills in college for depression that was seasonal, but had since stopped. For a while everything seemed perfect, but after the miscarriage, she had been pushed deep back into a dark place.

"Maybe you should started taking your medicine again." He bit his lip, knowing that a storm was coming.

"You can't diagnose me, Josh!" She knew he was talking some sense, but it was hard for her to face that she would have to fight that battle again. God, everything just. . . sucked.

"Claire, I'm sorry." Josh stepped forward, and when she didn't retreat, he took another step. "I'm sorry," he repeated, and then he pulled her into him. She was crying. She was taking long, ragged breaths and sobbing into his shirt.

"Let's go to bed," he whispered and she nodded.

She was still crying when she slid into the covers beside him. It was all because he was right. She was broken. She was depressed. She needed to do something about it, instead of wallowing in self-pity like she had done when she was a teenager. She was an adult, and she didn't want to need the help of her husband, but she did.

"I love you," she said to him before he fell asleep, and she meant it. She really did.

He held her that night. And the night after that. He was still working a lot, but she called the doctor a week later. Three days after that, she was back on her antidepressants, trying to look up.

She had thought everything would mend itself.

It's not exactly flowers and bunnies and rainbows, I know. It will get a little better, I promise. I mean, Closh will happen.

Anyway, this chapter was actually fun to write because I was able to include depression, a subject I know very well. It's real, and it sucks, and you had to know that leading up to the divorce would be a little messy.

Reviews are immensely appreciated.