One Heart Too Many

by Chelle Storey-Daniel

What happens when a man steps up and offers you everything you've ever wanted at the same time that a woman does? What happens when you're feeling things that you've never felt before and you question everything you thought you knew about yourself.

35. Chapter 35

Tension headaches suck.

And when you wake up with one and the bright light from the window makes you feel mauled by a pitbull ... that sucks worse. I instinctively cover my eyes and contemplate covering my head and diving back into sleep when I realize that the bed is empty. Oh my god. Maybe she left me. I sit up fast and the cover falls to my waist at the same time that I realize Erica is sitting a few inches away from me. There's a tray on the bed between us and she doesn't say a word as she gingerly pushes it toward me. French Toast. And liberal amounts of cinnamon and powdered sugar, bacon, strawberries and coffee that smells good enough to have come from the seldom used press in the cabinet. There's also a wildflower in an ugly lime green vase and I don't know where in the hell she dredged that thing up, but she needs to dig a hole and bury it.

I want to smile at her. I want to find the perfect words to erase that horrible thing that happened the previous night, but my brain fumbles over clips and phrases that leave me feeling disjointed and unsure of anything. I hazard a glance at the closet door and it's slightly ajar, proving that I don't have the power to close it all the way and solidify my place on this side of it.

"Callie-"

"It's your birthday," I blurt out, more to save myself from hearing any possible utterance of goodbye from her lips than anything else. I can see that the fax from hell is still on the dresser and it's in the same haphazard disarray I left it in which tells me she hasn't touched it. "I should be cooking you breakfast in bed."

"Well," she drawls," the goal of breakfast in bed is to actually be able to eat it and you can't cook."

There are two forks on the plate and I pick one up, watching her do the same. She goes for a slice of strawberry while I cut a small corner off the toast. I don't eat it. I push it around in the syrup, causing the white powder to disappear into the sticky confection. She spears another slice of strawberry and holds it out to me. "These are so fresh you won't believe it. Try it."

I accept the fruit and chew it so slowly that it's like juice when I finally swallow it past the lump in my throat. Maybe she's bipolar. Hell, maybe I'm bipolar. Are we actually sitting here acting like everything is perfectly fine? Because it's not. I'm not. Here it comes. "Erica -"

"Please eat something, Cal."

"I'm not hungry."

"It's my birthday. Can you humor me?" She gives me a half smile. The fake kind. The kind that you give a patient who's giving you a hard time. "Please?"

She pokes her fork into the corner piece of toast that I cut off and holds it up. I take it and it's absolutely delicious just like I knew it would be, but when I swallow it ... I feel like there's a ball of lead in my belly. I watch her use a knife to cut a bite for herself and I want to tell her that I really like the way her hair looks. She's piled it in a messy twist and secured it with one of my clips. Her face is scrubbed clean and she took her earrings out which is good since I have a pair to give her for her birthday, but none of those things come out. What I say to her is, "I stayed."

Even though she just put a rather large chunk of toast into her mouth, she stops chewing. I watch her push the food to one side and hold it there. It's almost laughable. I once had a ferret that did the same damn thing. It makes her look like one of her teeth has abscessed on the right side. "Thank God you did," she finally says, meeting my eyes. "I didn't mean what I said."

"Which part?"

She swallows without chewing at all and I brace myself to do the Heimlich on her, but I don't have to. "Any of it," she replies. "All of it. Okay?"

"No ... it's really not okay. You wanted me to leave."

"Honey, I didn't -"

"I refuse to believe that you got so upset over my dad looking into yours. It's more than that. Isn't it?" I tilt my head a little when she doesn't look at me. "Is it me? Did I -"

"No, you didn't do anything, Callie. We're fine."

"Then tell me what the hell that was. Please? Because you scared me. You wanted me to leave." My voice breaks a little over that last word and I purse my lips to keep them from trembling. "You have to talk to me."

"I just - I guess I'm a little wired about meeting him tonight. I have been fortunate to be distracted with Jasper and surgery and you... but last night ... it all hit that it's really happening. This man that I don't know is coming here and as intrigued as I am to meet him ... I kinda wish I could kill him."

My eyes widen. "For not being there?"

"For being real." Her hand is shaking so much when she lifts the coffee cup that she sets it back down to avoid a scalding. I don't protest when she removes the tray and deposits it on the nightstand because clearly breakfast is a bust. When she comes back to the bed, she sits down a little closer than she was, facing me. Her blue eyes are piercing as she brushes my hair off my forehead and says, "You know how you told me that you've dreamed about the man that Jasper would be a million times?"

I nod at her.

"Well, I've done that same with my father. In my mind ... I've turned him into an astronaut, a lawyer, a famous movie star, a singer ... so many things that ... shattered ... last night. I wasn't prepared for that. I was prepared to meet him tonight and have him tell me who he really is, but I didn't want to see it in black and white. I didn't want to find out anything before he could tell me himself." She focuses on a curl over my shoulder, twisting it, dropping it and picking it up again to weave her fingers through it. She does that after sex, too. "I wasn't mad at you for finding out who he is, Callie, I'm mad at him for never finding out who I am. And you just happened to be available when I wanted someone to yell at."

"It was pretty impressive."

"I'm sorry, baby." She drops the curl again and cups my face, then trails her thumb over my swollen lip. "Any part of my life is your life and you can do anything with it that you want. And if you want to throw your money around like it's confetti then I'm along for the ride and I'm just happy to be there."

"I wasn't throwing money around, Erica. I really though that I was helping and quite frankly ... I'm tired of you mentioning my money at all."

"I'm sor-"

"Stop apologizing! You know ... if you want me ... then you have to accept all of me. That means that what's mine is yours. So if my money-"

"I don't care about your money! Look, I really appreciate what you did by trying to find out about him! I mean it! I know why you did it and I love you for it!" She reaches out, clasping my hand. Hers is incredibly cold. "Please? Make this a little easier on me. I'm close to begging and I don't beg so it could go either way if I actually have to do it. I could do it really well or be completely pissed at being reduced to it."

I have to force myself not to smile. It's very easy to make her beg when my face is buried between her legs and I'm teasing her relentlessly. I let my eyes search hers hopefully when I ask, "Do you believe me now? When I tell you that I'm not going anywhere?"

"I do." Her choice of wording sends an anticipatory shiver through me because one day ... she will be saying that for entirely different reasons. "Thank you for hanging onto me last night. You are the only person alive that I can handle seeing me break."

"You don't always to be the strong one."

"Well, that's a good thing because it's out of the question with you in the picture." She smiles again and I realize that I'm not the only one who's drowning in hopefulness. Once again I can see her heart dangling from her sleeve and it's swinging like a pendulum, just waiting for me to make it stand still. "Stop making this so hard on me, Lee. I'm almost officially over the hill and I can't take it. Will you please forgive me and give me a kiss?"

It's hard to hang onto anger that you really didn't entirely feel when someone asks you something like that. Especially when that someone has a soft, inviting mouth and really knows how to use it. I glance down at it in time to see her pink tongue dance out in anticipation, moistening her bottom lip. I know exactly how skilled she is with that and I lean forward, giving her a kiss that she deepens. She slides closer and I feel her hands on my shoulders, then against my throat as she tilts my head a little more to the left. This time it's my bottom lip that feels her tongue and I open my mouth, letting her seal her apology properly. My toes curl under the cover and when one of her hands drop to my breast I finally realize that I'm still very naked and I've been exposed from the waist up for our entire conversation.

How amazing is it that nudity is second nature with her? I don't feel vulnerable or bare ... even when we're in the middle of something tense. I think maybe it's because her love cloaks me all the time.

I smile against her mouth when she tweaks my nipple. "You didn't ask me to forgive you and let you molest me."

She leaves her hand on my breast, rubbing her thumb around my areola now. "I thought that was a standing invitation."

"It's your birthday."

"And I can't think of anything I want more."

"Well, you have actual presents."

"Can I start with this one?" Now her hand slides down over my waist and she starts to ease the cover back, but I grip it and pull it up over my chest, locking it with my arms. She whimpers. So help me GOD she actually WHIMPERS. "You're really not playing fair."

"You're right. Look under the bed." I point under me and she raises a brow. "Go on."

"You hid presents under the bed?"

"I figured you wouldn't think to look there."

"That's because your comic collection is under there."

"I didn't get you a comic book."

"Thank God."

I watch her slip off the bed and kneel down beside. I draw my knees up and wrap my arms around them as she gasps and looks up at me. She has quite a bounty of gifts from me and a few from my parents as well. I watch her pull out several of the packages and put them on the bed. I move them aside to make room for the rest and for her. Finally, the last of her impressive haul is stacked neatly next to me and she sits down staring at the assortment in shock. I have a sinking suspicion that this is the most anyone has ever given her for any holiday and that makes me incredibly sad. I pick up a little purple bag and say, "Do this one first."

"You bought way too much-"

"Do I have to remind you about all the stuff you bought me for mine?"

"Yeah, but -"

"Start with this and shut up," I tell her, but I'm smiling.

She pulls out tissue paper and picks up the velvet jewelry box, gasping when she opens it and sees the silver earrings inside. They're simple, a little plain, and exactly like a pair of mine that she borrows occasionally. I watch her trace them with her fingertips and then she smiles at me. "Is this your way of telling me to leave yours alone?"

"It's my way of saying we match. In all the right ways." I hand her another bag and watch her pull out a red sweater. It's designer and I can't wait to see her wear it because it's amazing when she holds it up in front of her. Red is definitely a good color for her. Naked may be the only thing better.

She makes quick work of a an autographed book by her favorite author, a new laptop because hers is pathetic, an engraved pen from my dad, a nice blue robe from my mother that I picked out, and a snowglobe of Italy that I found on our vacation when she wasn't looking. I think that will possibly be her favorite thing, but when she opens an oversized square package and sees the painting we were given the night I proposed, smoothed out and framed perfectly ... I know that I win at life. Her eyes fill with tears as she runs her hand over the gilded frame and I reach out to touch her cheek, catching one as it falls. "You like it? I wasn't sure if the frame was good enough."

"I was wondering where this was. It's so beautiful. It's perfect."

"It is." I hold up a box wrapped with rose paper. "I need a disclaimer on this one."

"I'm suddenly terrified. Tell me."

"Open it first." I watch her set the painting aside and hold my breath.

She tears the paper and stares down at her new camera. It's professional quality, very nice, very well reviewed. "Calllllllie," she draws out my name. "Why do I need a new camera when I have one in the office?"

The camera she is speaking of, the one in the office ... is also the one that Helen gave her. It's the one that had horrible videos of the two of them. "That camera died. Horribly. A complete loss. Not enough to bury."

"What did you do?"

"Before or after I ran over it?"

"You didn't!?"

"Uh huh."

"That was a perfectly good camera!"

"It was tainted. This is a better one. I promise." I smile sweetly. "And it also has video so if you're in the mood later -"

"You never cease to amaze me."

"Is that good or bad?"

She leans forward and kisses me again. "Very good. I'll never be bored with you."

I push a strand of her hair back and hold up the final package. She sets the camera down beside the bed and pulls the card from under the ribbon that I tied in place, reading it so slowly that my palms start to sweat. I spent hours fucking with a greeting card program I downloaded and the final result is something I'm proud as hell of.

Dear Erica,

Who knew that we would finally get to this place? Definitely not me. I feel like I've fought a war to be in this spot and in this moment. I fought myself. I fought you. I fought my feelings and the best thing I've ever done is surrender. I want you. I want to mark every one of your birthdays by heart. That's where you are and where you have always been - in my heart. I believe in forever for the first time in my life and you gave that to me. You give me hope, you give me courage, and most of all ... you've given me a place to call home. This is where I want to spend the rest of my life and in your arms is where I want to spent the last of my days. I love you. You are, and will always be, my Yellow. You're the sunlight I look for in the darkest places and you are the place I will always feel the safest. Happy birthday.

Always,

Callie

I watch another tear slip down her cheek as she finishes it and lean my head against her shoulder. "I love you, Yellow. Happy birthday."

"I don't deserve you."

"Well, you're stuck with me."

"I am so sorry about last night. I would never want you to leave, Callie. Never. This ... this wasn't a home until you. I love you so much."

She turns and hugs me, pulling me as close to her as she can. I feel her hands move over my bare back, her fingers in my hair, the front of her robe against my breasts. It takes every ounce of my willpower not to slam her onto her back and pull the belt of that robe open, but I somehow manage. After kissing her for a solid minute, I slide back a little and point at the box. "Open it."

She's still feeling the effects of my card and watching her is affecting me as well so I nudge her again. She tears into the blue paper and unveils a Victoria's Secret box. Her eyes meet mine and I grin devilishly. She breaks the tape that was holding the lid on and pulls apart the pink paper, revealing a lacy piece of fabric that she holds up in the morning light. "Uh, Callie, I don't actually wear -"

"I know," I reply, taking it from her. "This is actually for me and you get to unwrap it later."

She licks her lips. "Later? Why don't you put it on now?"

"No, I don't think so," I reply sadly, picking up the yellow panties and bra still in the box. "I think the perfect punishment for your little tirade last night ... is knowing that this will be under my dress tonight and check it out," I slip my fingers over the crotch of the panties. "They lace up."

"Jesus. What I did last night does NOT deserve the death penalty and waiting for this will KILL me."

"I'm not caving," I tell her. "Payback is a bitch."

"Oh, really?"

"Really. You're going to learn that -"

It happens so fast that I gasp.

I'm pinned on the bed and she somehow has the cover down around my thighs. I feel her hand between us, working on the belt of her robe and then the delicious warmth of her bare flesh is pressed intimately against mine. I attempt to free my legs, but she shakes her head and keeps them trapped under the cover with her own. She does let me push her robe down her arms though and I toss it over my head before palming her breasts. "Evil," I tell her. "Dirty fighter."

"I'm very dirty. Want me to show you just how much?"

"I think I have an idea, but I don't play well with cheaters."

"You could say no."

"I don't know that word."

She grins and leans down, kissing me hungrily. She tastes like strawberries and syrup and I could lose myself in her for -

The alarm chimes loudly, alerting us to the fact that the gate has been opened. "FUCK!" Erica cries. "YOU DID THAT WITH YOUR HORRIBLE TELEKINESIS! I KNOW IT!"

"You're onto me," I tell her, groaning. "It's probably my parents. I swear to God ... my mother KNOWS when there is an impending orgasm anywhere in my vicinity."

Erica gets to her feet and rifles through her gifts, putting on the blue robe for my mother's sake. It looks amazing on her and I take just a second to picture it opened and her blue panties exposed underneath it. She shatters my mental image by tossing me the robe she took off and it's still warm when I pull it on. We pad down the stairs and into the living room in time to hear a car crunch to a stop in front of the house. I open the door and watch Addison fumble with an oversized package, a purse that should be a suitcase, and a bouquet of flowers. Taking pity on her, I head onto the porch and relieve her of the flowers. "Good morning," I say. "Very early morning."

Addison looks at my robe then at Erica, who is standing in the doorway. "Oh god! I've interrupted sex, right?"

"It's okay," Erica assures her and I'm the only one who knows what the creeping red flush on her chest is really all about.

"Happy birthday," Addy says, climbing the porch steps and hugging her. She hands her the box and says, "This is from me and the flowers are ... I don't know. I intercepted the delivery guy trying to figure out how to buzz in."

I pluck the card out of the flowers and hold it out to Erica, who raises her brows. "They're from 'Joel, Hope, and the kids'."

It takes a lot to impress me, but that does. My brother may be growing a heart after all. In the living room, Erica sits down on the sofa and opens the box from Addison. It's a nice briefcase and I can tell that it's high quality just like everything else in Addison's life. When they hug again, I hear a whimper and tilt my head to one side. "What was that?"

"That," Addison snaps, stepping away from Erica, "is reason number eight thousand and twelve that I want to kill Mark Sloan."

"Oh god. What now?" I ask. "Everything looked fine when you left Joe's."

"That's because the man is a smooth talker," Addison tells me. "The convincing bastard waltzed over to my table and told me that his heart couldn't take it anymore. He said that he was so in love with me he couldn't stand it and that he would do whatever it took to have a life and a family with me. And then he said he was dying without me."

I gasp. "He said all that!? Holy shit!"

"He was pretty drunk," Erica deadpans. "I could tell."

"I know, right!?" Addison stalks across the room and unzips her large purse. "His hungover ass went out this morning and bought me this."

Two reddish blond paws appear at the mouth of the purse and that's when I realize that it's a dog carrier and not a handbag at all. When the puppy's head appears, I'm a goner. There is nothing in the world that is cuter than a fat puppy with big, curious eyes. "Awwwww!"

I flock down on the Golden Retriever and scoop it up, then grimace when I realize that it has a diaper on. Erica makes a disgusted noise behind me, saying, "What the fuck!?"

"It's my training!" Addison growls, throwing her hands in the air. "Mark actually had the AUDACITY to tell me that this would help me not be nervous about being a mother! Like ... I don't know what I'm doing! I deliver babies! Babies and dogs are NOT the same thing!"

"But it's such a sweet gesture," I say, rubbing my nose against the puppy's sweet smelling head. My opinion is met with scorn from both of them and their unanimous groans make me scowl. "Addison, it is! He's trying to get you prepared and, well, when you think about it ... by the time the baby gets here ... the puppy will be seven in dog years and you -"

"OH MY GOD!" Addison cries. "He said the same thing. Did you two plan this!?"

"No!" I shake my head vehemently. "We didn't."

"This is not a sweet gesture," Erica says. "It's insulting is what it is."

"Thank you." Pointing at Erica, Addison looks at me and adds, "SHE gets it."

"I get that he's a son of a bitch," Erica assures her. "Loud and clear."

Maybe I'm still edgy from last night. Or maybe I'm over Mark having a target on his back. I'm not sure what propels me to say exactly what I'm thinking, but I do. Oh, how I do. "You know what? I'm sick of you guys ganging up on Mark. He's trying ... which is more than I can say for either one of you. Erica, he's been fairly nice to you even though you haven't gone out of your way to give him a lot of reasons to be. Addison, did it occur to you that maybe he wanted to buy you a puppy so that he could learn a thing or two? It's not always about you! Maybe he needs help not being nervous. And we are talking about the guy who is trying to stay with you when you don't even know if he's the father of your baby."

I shove the puppy into Addison's arms and glare back and forth between my fiancé and best friend. "So why don't you give him the benefit of the doubt once in a while? Find someone new to pick on because Switzerland is starting to stockpile nukes and is not very happy."

The puppy latches onto the end of Addison's hair and playfully tugs. She looks down at it, absently scratching its ear, and then glances back up at me. "Note to self: call ahead next time and make sure you're not interrupting sex."

I run a hand through my own hair and slowly exhale. "Sorry. I just - this is killing him, you know? I can tell."

"Sorta like you killed him? For months?" Addison shifts the puppy, her eyes never leaving mine. "You're not exactly in a position to judge me, Callie. I get that you want to see him happy ... but you expect me to do it because you wouldn't."

"Okay, you know what -" Erica begins.

I cut across her. "Don't you dare make this about me, Addison, because -"

"STOP!" Erica says, loudly now.

The house phone trills to life and it's so rare to hear it that it takes me a second to realize where the sound is coming from. I go into the kitchen and answer it, cutting off the 'Jingle Bells' ring tone. I don't even want to know. "Hello?"

"Erica?"

"Sorry, hang on one second." I peer around the doorway, narrowing my eyes when I see that Addison and Erica are in deep conversation. Those two together ... bad news. "Erica, phone."

She walks toward me with a determined look on her face. She takes the cordless, but doesn't bring it to her ear. Instead, she glares at me. "Her hormones are all over the place. Take it easy on her."

When I go back into the living room, Addison is sitting on the loveseat with the puppy beside her. She looks a little green around the gills and I feel a lot of my anger dissipate more rapidly than it built. The dog is chewing on a rope toy and I kneel down, tugging on one end until a game of tug-o-war begins. I smile when a deep growl emanates from the dog and laugh out loud when it lets the toy go and leaps at me, licking my face. "Is it a girl or a boy?"

"Girl," Addison replies. "Mark said that he read that girl dogs are better with kids."

"What are you naming her?"

"I don't even want to keep her!"

With a sigh, I look up at Addison and say, "She'll need a house with a big fenced yard and, you know, a barbecue pit."

"Because she can cook?"

"No. Because having the dog and the barbecue pit means that you only need two point five kids and a husband to have that life you always wanted." Reaching out, I put my hand on hers. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to come down so hard on you where Mark's concerned and I don't expect you to make him happy because I wouldn't. I hope you'll make him happy because I couldn't. I could never have been you."

Addison starts to reply, but something stops her. I watch a crease appear between her brows as she says, "Erica? You okay?"

I turn around, still kneeling. I know precisely what's wrong with Erica when I see her face. "He's not coming ... is he?"

Erica shakes her head. Her lips purse, her jaw tightens and then she shrugs like it doesn't matter, but I know better. "It's the weather. They canceled his flight. He said that he will try to come tomorrow. Or later on."

"Well, that's good." Addison's voice is overly optimistic. "He's in Nebraska, right? I did see that there was some flooding and high winds on the news."

Saying nothing, Erica pads across the room and goes upstairs. I grimace and run a hand over my face. "I've never met her father, but I hate him already."

"You have to hate your in-laws. There are rules." Addison gathers the puppy and puts her back in her carrier. "I'm going to head out. Mark bought the dog, the diapers, and the carrier, but it never dawned on him that food would be a good idea."

"Good luck with her."

"What should I name her?" Addison asks, hefting the carrier over her shoulder. "I'm not good at this kind of thing."

I pull back the cloth screen and peer in at the puppy. It clumsily presses its nose against the mesh. "I think she looks like a 'Hope'. That's a good name. Because sometimes that's all a person has ... and that's all there is to cling to."

She gives me the crooked smile she is renowned for and then hugs me. "I'm sorry I'm a bitch."

"It's okay. I'm fluent in bitch, too."

"Best friends?"

"Always."

When we break apart, Addy glances at the stairs. "Take care of her."

"I will."

"I've heard that sex cures what ails you."

I grin at her. "Only if it's UNINTERRUPTED."

"Point taken. Carry on."

I've seen Erica Hahn pissed a few times. There are certain outward signs that I can detect and I usually stop whatever I'm doing and move away slowly. She squares her shoulders a little more than usual when she's about to blow her top. Her nostrils flare, her chin lifts defiantly, and that damnable dimple appears in her chin. When I find her sitting on the bench at the foot of our bed with her legs crossed and her arms folded almost primly over her knee, I draw up short. Her body posture says that she's calm, cool, and collected, but when I see her face ... I know better. It's like someone has draped yellow caution tape around her and I definitely proceed with caution. Her face is red and I have never pissed her off enough to be red faced before. I only make her red faced with just how kinky I can get in bed.

"Uh, Erica?"

"I knew he wouldn't show up."

"I don't think it's fair to hold it against him. The weather is bad. Those storms -"

"I don't care."

"I think you do."

She turns her head and levels me with a look that makes me back up until my backside hits the dresser. I don't know how much time passes, but I brace myself for whatever she's going to say. It can't be good. "I'm actually relieved."

"Relieved?"

"Truthfully, Cal, I didn't really want my father meeting your family at dinner."

"Wha - why didn't you say so?"

"Because you worked hard getting everything arranged and -"

"How do you know that?"

"Because your mother told me."

"Damn it."

Erica grins. "And I appreciate it, but really ... I don't know this man and your mother already makes me feel uncomfortable so I didn't want this whole ... thing ... playing out in front of her."

Well, fuck. That never dawned on me. I sit down beside her and take her hand, my fingers locking with hers. "You know what? I don't want ANYTHING playing out in front of my mother so let's go have lunch with them and then we'll have dinner by ourselves. Just like you wanted."

Her face brightens instantly. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." I lean into her, giving her a kiss.

While she's in the bathroom getting ready a while later, I call the Archfield and make a few last minute changes. The manager there takes it in stride and assures me that everything will be ready when we arrive that night.

I have to hand it to myself.

Sometimes I'm so impressive that it's scary.

My mother does not take our change of plans very well. I tell her over the phone and ask her to lunch which earns me a ten minute lecture on the lack of etiquette I possess. I leave the phone on the bed, on speaker, while she rants and I dig through my closet for something to wear. By the time she wraps up her speech, I'm dressed and ready to go. We agree to meet at a restaurant in an hour and Erica gives me a sympathetic hug. "On the bright side," she says, "at least your mother will be so distracted by your swollen lip that she will forget all about you cancelling dinner."

Erica Hahn could be a fortune teller.

The first thing my mother does when we walk into Joe's Crab Shack is hug Erica and present her with a bouquet of wildflowers. She spots me over Erica's shoulder and her eyes widen, her mouth drops open, and she stamps her foot in a rage. "What happened to your mouth!?"

"Erica beat me," I reply, keeping my face as stoic as I can. "She was just so mad about turning a year older that she couldn't keep it in."

Dad tilts my chin, then touches my lip. "Now tell the truth."

"Erica head butted me when we drove through the hedges because we were trying to have sex in the car," I say.

The wildflowers fall from Erica's hand and she bends down to get them fast. When she stands up, her face is the darkest shade of burgundy I've ever seen. I convinced her to wear her hair up and her ears are glowing, making her new earrings dull in comparison to how shiny she is all of the sudden. "I hate you," she tells me in a low, deep voice.

Grinning, I loop my arm through hers and kiss her cheek. She's flaming hot and I laugh at her. "Sure you do."

"Honestly," Mom growls. "I want to believe that was a lie, but looking at her face tells me otherwise. Apparently your father and I need to discuss the finer art of 'parking' with you, Calliope, because the first rule of thumb is to put the car in park before you straddle the gear shifter. Your father and I nearly drove into-"

"OH! EW!" I let Erica go and clap my hand over my own ears which are probably more neon than hers. "I never, ever want to know that you did that!"

My dad chuckles and moves in front of me, giving Erica a kiss on her cherry red forehead. "Happy birthday, Mija."

When he steps back ... I smile at him.

She's his daughter now, too.

And I love that.

I also love the fact that the entire wait staff comes over to sing a rousing rendition of 'Happy Birthday' to Erica because she just LOVES that.

Lunch, I decide, is a success.

My mother didn't mention our change of plans once, but she did mention the wedding in a way that makes me think I'm not the only one looking forward to it.

"Are you sure this is okay to wear?"

"Erica, you are not the type of person to worry so much about clothes."

She turns in front of the mirror, studying her backside. The black slacks are cut to be tight, making her look curved and fine in all the right places. The red sweater I bought her looks as wonderful as I knew it would and her hair, which is down and insanely curly, contrasts against it beautifully. It's gotten long, so long. It's well past her bra in the back when it's straight, but now that it's curling it rests just below her shoulders. I can't wait to tangle my fist in that hair later and guide her head exactly where I've wanted it all day. I impatiently watch her slip on a pair of heels and cross my legs because the throbbing between them doesn't seem to be going away any time soon.

She walks back into the closet and when she emerges, she's carrying a long black coat. I pick up my own, which is just as long, but leather, and fold it over my arm. "Ready?"

Erica smiles at me, cocking her head just a little as her eyes move over my pants and sweater the same way my own slid over her. "Are you wearing it?"

Grinning devilishly, I lift the front of my shirt and let her see the yellow bra underneath. Her smile fades and she takes a step forward with a look of clear intention on her face. I yank my shirt back down, even though it causes me physical pain to do so, and shake my head. "We have reservations, Erica."

"Being late is fashionable."

"No."

"I thought you didn't know that word."

"I'll go without you. I mean it." I lift my purse and sling it over my shoulder. "Are you in?"

"Not yet, but I will be soon."

My legs feel like jelly, but I somehow manage to make it down the hall and into the car. We talk about Jasper on the drive and how happy he was to see us when we visited him earlier. Dad had taken him to the hospital gift shop and told him to pick out anything he wanted to give Erica for her birthday. Jasper chose a card with a horse on it, a stuffed bear, and a coffee cup filled with candy that says 'I love you'. Erica was so moved that I swear she almost cried and Jasper was so excited to give it to her that he did. His big brown eyes welled with tears when he said, "Happy birthday, Yellow. I love you".

At the Archfield, Erica asks if we should leave our coats in the car and I vehemently shake my head. I grab both of them and we head upstairs to the restaurant; the same one that she used the cover of the table to do unspeakably wonderful things to me in. When we arrive, the manager is standing near the doorway and he bows dramatically, making me feel like the Queen of England. It's overdone and I have to roll my eyes, but Erica smacks me on the back of the head when he turns and mouths that I better 'be nice'. For all intents and purposes, it look likes he will be leading us to our table in the corner, but he bypasses it in favor of the roof instead.

It's definitely cold and the air is crisp as we walk across the rooftop. My hair whips out around me and my coat lifts up behind me like bat wings when I put it on. I start to make a joke about it, but stop when I see our table. There are three oversized outdoor fireplaces that are smoking beautifully and our table is in the middle. It's gorgeous. It's exactly what I wanted. As soon as we're seated, Japanese screens like the ones that were used on the roof in Italy are placed just behind the fireplaces, keeping the heat inside and giving us plenty of privacy. The screens knock the wind off as well and I'm not cold at all when I order a bottle of wine and ask for Erica's favorite bread to get us started.

When the waiter walks away, I notice that Erica hasn't touched her menu. I raise a brow, "What? Are you too cold?"

"Are you trying to recreate Italy?"

"Why? Is it working?"

She nods. "I love you."

"I love you, too." I reach across the table and squeeze her hand. "More than you'll ever know."

"I do know."

We go through a basket of bread as we wait for the main course and we spend our time talking about Italy and agree that, hands down, that's where we're going on our honeymoon. It's a given. We'll go back to see Ange and Claude and let them share a little of our happiness because they were deprived of their own. When our steaks arrive, the topic of conversation changes to Mark and Addison. To my surprise, Erica genuinely wants the baby to be Mark's and we formulate a plan to get our friends together once and for all.

When dessert arrives, Erica smiles at the heart shaped red velvet cake and demands that I eat it with her. I happily oblige and say, "You know, there was only one thing missing that night in Italy."

"I can't think of a single thing I would have changed."

I clear my throat, a little loudly, and music starts to play. Getting to my feet, I hold out a hand and say, "Dance with me?"

She lets me pull her up. "I don't dance well."

"Then I'll lead." I step into her arms and rest my head on her shoulder as we sway back and forth to the strings being played behind the screens. Two violinists and two guitar players work their way through a nice, simple ballad as we move back and forth. She only steps on my toe once, but she feels good enough against me that any threat of pain is chased away. She also kisses me, her hands on my hips and my own tangled in her hair. I don't know what in the world I was thinking when I decided to make tonight a family affair. This should have only EVER been our time. The song ends and I cup her face, kissing her again. "Have you ever seen the city from up here, Yellow?"

"Just the night we ate here."

I slip my coat back on and hold hers out, but when she goes to put her arms in, I shake my head. I put it on her backwards, so that it completely covers her front. I have plans. I hear the musicians retreat and take her hand, leading her to the furthest point. She grips the rail, leaning over to look down and I move behind her, sweeping her hair over her shoulder. I latch onto the back of her neck, sucking just enough to leave a trace of me there, and say, "Breathtaking, huh?"

"The view or you?"

I smile and slide my hands around her waist. She stops breathing. So help me GOD she actually does stop breathing when I move to the button on her pants and flip it open. The zipper eases down next and I say, "You haven't seen anything yet."

"Callie -"

"Shhh." I move my palm over her belly before I lower it into her panties. With my free hand, I urge her to lift one leg and brace her foot on the lower rail. She complies and she's fully open to me now. I rub across her smooth, silky mound, massaging, kneading. She makes a sound in the back of her throat and I say, "I love the way you feel. I love the way you swell," I drag my fingers over her distended nub, pulling a moan from her, "when you know what's coming."

I dip one finger into her, pulling her wetness back up to her clit, then tug at her ear with my teeth. "Erica." My voice is huskier than it has ever been and she let's out an 'ahhh' in response. "I love the way you sound. I love those little noises that you try to keep in, but can't. I know how to make you scream."

I slide two fingers into her and her head falls back on my shoulder, exposing her throat. I press open mouthed kisses all along it as her hips begin to undulate in time with my fingers. I feel her shift a little, opening her legs more and with my free hand, I slide her pants down just a little further ... enough to make room for both of my hands. The things I do to her, the ways I touch her, the naughty, filthy things I whisper in her ear ... it's enough to make me come, but she doesn't. Something tells me she's stopping herself, she doesn't want it to end.

My own hips begin to move in time with hers and she reaches back, grasping at my thigh. I can feel her fingernails raking across my pants and when she grips my leg it's almost painful, almost pinching, almost too much to take. I watch the city sparkle beneath us like a million twinkling diamonds and say, "I could fuck you every hour and it wouldn't be enough."

"Oh ... godddd!" Her other arm snakes up around my neck and she turns her head, pulling me into a kiss. Our tongues duel as I put a little more pressure on her and then ... then she lets go. The force of her orgasm almost knocks us both down because she kicks out with the foot still on the rail and almost sends us toppling backwards. I hang onto her and she grips the rail again, jerking, twitching, breathing so hard that I can see it in front of us. She kisses me again and it's my turn to groan.

I don't think I've ever been so turned on in my life.

She pulls my hands from her pants and turns around, clinging to me as her mouth descends on mine again. It's a crushing, brutal gnashing of tongues, teeth, and primal need. I can feel her hardened nipples through her sweater and her coat and I'm sure that she can feel mine as well because her thumb finds it and thumps against it hard enough for me to feel it to my toes. I also feel my own wetness as acutely as I felt hers. When she fumbles with the button of my pants, I don't hesitate to help her. I shove them open and grip her hand, putting it exactly where I want it.

I think it's possibly the quickest orgasm to ever hit anyone.

Her breath against my neck, my name on her lips, and her fingers touching me just ... like ... that ... and I'm done. I come furiously, my entire lower half seizing under her ministrations. We stand that way for a while, her hand soaking up my desire and our mouths fused together. I finally feel her shiver and realize that I'm freezing, too. She looks as disappointed as I feel when I tug her hand from my pants and button them once more. She slips her coat off and I help her put it on the correct way before we walk back to our table. I pick up the bill and we head inside to pay because neither of us want to stand in the cold longer than we have to.

While we wait for our car to be brought around, she puts her head on my shoulder and says, "I'm going to do things to you when we get home that you will not believe."

"Is that so?"

She nods.

And the drive only takes thirty minutes, but it might as well be thirty hours. I want her that much. I need her ... that much.

We're undressing before we're out of the garage and my coat lands close enough to Feo that the poor cat pounces on it and proceeds to try to shred it. We ignore our pet as Erica's sweater lands on the lamp and my shirt hits the recliner and falls in the floor, where Ruma lazily curls up on it. Erica climbs the stairs backward, unwilling to take her hands off me long enough to consider safety and by the time we make it to the hallway, my pants are stuck on my shoe and I have no idea where my other shoe is. She strips out of her own slacks and leaves them where they fall and when she goes into our bedroom, she draws up short and I walk into her back.

There are candles everywhere. "Thank you, Addison," I murmur.

Erica grins and tugs her bra off as I discard the rest of my clothing and pick up the lacy yellow coverlet that goes with my panties and bra set. I slip it on and lift the lighter that is resting on the bed. "I was going to tell you a reason that I love you for every year of your life, Erica, but you are old and really ... I don't think I can wait that long."

She throws a pillow at me.

I dodge it and begin lighting the candles. "I'll do the top ten instead."

Smiling, she reclines on the bed to watch me and I can feel her eyes moving over me in appreciation as more and more light fills the room. "I love the way you look in the bed."

"Do you, Cal?"

"Especially when I'm under you."

"Never would have pegged you for a bottom."

I chuckle, moving to a larger candle. "I love the way you say my name when you're sleeping and the way you reach for me first thing in the morning."

"I have to make sure you're not a dream."

"I love the way you smell like lilacs ... even though for a moment ... I buried a lilac bush and tried to convince myself I hated it."

"Sucker."

"I love the way you can make name calling seem endearing."

That gets a laugh from her.

I light a small tea candle. "I love the way you feel when you hug me after a hard day ... it's like coming home ... no matter where we are."

"That's mutual."

Moving to the other side of the room, I set to work on a few more. "I love that you let me be myself with you. Food choices notwithstanding."

"We do need to work on that."

"I love the way you love Jasper." I meet her eyes, winking at her. "Even if he does have a crush on you."

"I may have a crush on him."

"I love the way you trust that I won't kill you when you say shit like that because I so would."

Another laugh.

I set the lighter aside and slowly move back around the room. "Just two more reasons. Two out of a million."

She sits up. "I'm all ears."

"I love the way you love me." My throat tightens a little and I look down at the floor, reigning in my emotions. "I've never had this before and I wouldn't want to have it with anyone else. I'm glad that you're my first and that I'm your last. You make me feel safe and completely at ease and I never, ever doubt the way you feel for me because you show it in everything you do."

"Aw, Lee, I -"

"One more," I interject, cutting her off. "I love the way you let me love you. The real you. Not Dr. Erica Hahn, the badass heart surgeon with a chip on her shoulder. You let me see you, touch you, feel you ... believe in you. You are badass, but you're also the most tender and loving person I have ever know. And loving you is the greatest thing I've ever experienced in my life. You let me in, you don't close any doors, and that makes me think that you trust me as much as I trust you."

"I trust you with my life." Her voice is thick with emotion when she stands up. I don't move as she walks toward me ... instead I gaze at her, bathed in the soft glow of the candles, and I know that there is nowhere in the world I'd rather be. When she's in front of me, I lift my eyes to hers, noting that they're a little shinier than usual. "I kind of thought that thing you did to me on the roof was the best gift ever, but I was wrong, Callie."

"Oh?"

She unties the lacy belt of my coverlet and pushes it over my shoulders. "This? It's definitely the best gift ever."

"You should probably play with it ... just to make sure."

Her palms cup my breasts and her thumb moves over my darkened nipple, which is visible through the lace. Wordlessly, she leans down and traces it with her tongue, causing me to moan her name in supplication. I unfasten my bra when she takes her time, but she holds it in place long enough to repeat the process on the other nipple and by then I'm in such a frenzy that I'm ready to jump her. When she kneels down in front of me, pulling the bra down my arms as she goes, I chew on my bottom lip ... anticipation killing me.

The yellow thong I'm wearing is the most uncomfortable thing I've ever experienced and I want nothing more than to be rid of it, but she has other things in mind. She turns me around and rubs the globes of my ass before she kisses one, then the other. When I feel her teeth, I yelp in shock and try to turn back toward her but she holds me firm. I feel her tongue next, trailing lazily over my skin and I whimper now, threatening her.

She takes her sweet time.

Her fingertips trail over the front of my legs and down to my feet, where she rakes her nails over the tops of them until my toes are dug so deeply into the carpet that I may never be able to free them. I can feel her breath on the back of my thigh and whisper, "Please?"

"Oh, you do know the magic word. Turn around."

I comply and stand perfectly still as she traces the silk ribbon that laces the front of the panties together. I want her to ignore that fucking ribbon and yank them down, but she doesn't. She moves in for the kill and I anticipate feeling her kissing me through the lace, but when she pulls away, one end of the ribbon is between her teeth.

And so help me GOD ... she keeps her hands on my ass as she works her tongue under the laces, loosening and tugging, until I'm shaking all over. It's the most intimate and insanely hot thing I've experienced and I watch her through hooded eyes as she exposes me a fraction of an inch at a time.

Whoever designed these panties should be shot because the lacing stops just above my clit ... which really ... that's all I care about at the moment. Erica senses my distress because she looks up at me, brow furrowed. "Hmm, I don't know, Callie. I think this toy may be broken. I can't get to the spot that -"

I hook my thumbs in the waist and shove them down. "Try it now."

She shamelessly laughs at me, getting to her feet and pulling me against her. I really don't want sweet, delicate kisses or her slow caresses against my back so when I push her toward the bed, she gets the picture. We fall in a tangle of limbs and lust, arching and urging, twisting and turning. I finally find myself flat on my back with her hovering over me. The candles cause shadows to dance over her face and I reach up, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "You're beautiful," I tell her. "I'm the luckiest person alive."

She shakes her head. "You have us confused. I am the lucky one. And you are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen in my life."

"I have a really pretty orgasm face. Wanna see it?"

Nodding, she kisses a path down my body. The valley between my breasts, the curve of my waist, my ribcage and finally ... oh god ... finally ... she slides her tongue over me and I dangle on the precipice for her. This is what love is, standing on the edge of eternity and looking down at the bottomless, endless wishing well that you fill with your hopes and dreams ... knowing that the person beside you hears them all. And can make everything your heart desires come true ... just by taking the journey with you.

I feel weightless as she devours me.

I feel complete, whole.

And when her fingers slip into me I've never been more filled in my life. She's in me ... she's in all of me: mind, body, soul.

I come with my hands in her hair and a while later ... she comes with her own hands clutching at the headboard as she sits astride my face.

There are moments in life where every aspect of it feels completely perfect.

This is one of those.

My cell phone rings at the butt crack of dawn. I open one eye and glare at the shard of light that would dare have the audacity to peek into our room. Erica shifts, moving her arm and leg a little tighter over me. "Let it ring," she suggests. "Fuck it."

I'm tempted to do just that until I see the number.

I scramble to answer it. "Daddy?"

"Did I wake you?"

"Yes! Is Jasper -"

"He's fine, baby."

"What's wrong?"

"I need to let him tell you."

I hold my breath and I can hear my mother in the background, saying something to someone ... and I don't know what's happening. Erica shifts and sits up, a worried expression on her questioning face. I start to tell her that everything's okay, but Jasper breathes into the phone. "Cal-lee?"

Oh my god! My whole name! HE SAID MY WHOLE NAME!

"Hey, buddy. What's wrong?"

"Guess what?" he says.

OH MY GOD. OH MY GOD.

"Tell me," I urge.

"I tied my shoe! Real tie up shoes! New ones from Mama."

"You did?"

"Come and see! I did it!"

"I'll be there in just a few minutes," I tell him, trying not to sob in the phone. "Good job, buddy."

"You are my buddy."

I do cry now and Erica wraps her arm around me. "Put Daddy on the phone, Jazz."

"Okay."

"Callie?" Dad asks.

"Did he really tie his shoe?" It's unfathomable for me. Jasper could barely tie his shoe at ten years old. He was just too damn lazy to be bothered with it.

"Mija, he tied the prettiest bow you've ever seen." Dad's crying. I can hear it in his voice. "And he colored in the coloring book Addison gave him ... between the lines. Between the lines, baby."

"Oh my god."

"He was up and down all night ... doing new things, trying new things. Dr. Yang said that he counted the floors on the elevator off to her and was correct every time."

In the background, my mother says, "It's a miracle."

"I'm on my way," I tell him. "I'll be there soon."

"Don't rush, Mija. He's not going anywhere. I think our Jazz may be coming home to us."

I hang up the phone and sit there in shock.

"He tied his shoe?" Erica asks, prodding me lightly with her elbow when I don't respond. "Callie?"

"Oh, Erica, it's so much more than that!"

"Let's go."

We're dressed and on the road in fifteen minutes.

No one says a single word to us when we race through the lobby. Mark is in the elevator and I bump into him, causing him to spill coffee over his hand. "Your brother took my latte while ago. And since he didn't call me 'ass' ... I figured I'd get another one for him."

Erica grins at him. "You are human, Sloan. Who knew?"

"Zip it, troll." He winks at her, smiling playfully. "How was your birthday?"

"Excellent," Erica replies. "We had a great time."

"I, uh, bought you a briefcase, but Addison stole my fucking idea. Did you find my gift in her briefcase, which she thinks was so much better than mine?"

Erica's eyes widen in shock. "No. Will it bite me?"

He grins. "No, it won't. Unfortunately. Check it out, though, okay?"

"Suddenly ... I'm terrified," Erica says.

I'm bouncing on the balls of my feet in anticipation and shoot out the doors the second they open. I brush past Cristina, past Lexie and George, and charge into Jasper's room. He's sitting on the windowsill, staring out at the city. He looks comical in his boxer shorts, tied up Nikes with no socks, and tank top. He waves enthusiastically and points out the window. "Look, Cal-lee, a helicopter!"

I go to the window and stare up at the copter that is leaving Seattle Grace's helipad. "Do you like that?"

"I love that," Jazz tells me, his voice full of rapture. "I want to ride it. I want to fly."

"You already are," I whisper.

"I am?" he asks.

I pull the lace on his shoe and untie it. "Show me, Jazzy."

He gives me the most magnificent smile I've ever seen. "I am tired of this."

But he still ties his shoe. It's slow, it's a little bit clumsy, but when he's finished ... it's perfect. I lean my head on his shoulder and he hugs me, pulling me a little closer. We stay that way until he sees Erica and then he hops off the sill and barrels toward her. He tugs her to the window, but the helicopter is long gone. I don't know what he's bringing her over for.

He takes my hand, then hers and puts them together. "Now then," he says, watching us intertwine our fingers. "I am sleepy."

Mom helps him into the bed, but he won't let her take off his new shoes. I watch him curl up on his side and say, "One treatment. How is this possible after one treatment?"

"He had another one yesterday, pumpkin," Mom says, tucking the cover around him. "We didn't want to tell you and make you worry because it was Erica's birthday and you had plans. Derek was able to take the machine to an eight and leave it there for a while."

"It didn't hurt him?" I ask.

Dad rubs my shoulder, smiling at me. "It did hurt him, but Dr. Stevens came in and read him a book while it was going on and he calmed right down. They gave him pain meds about halfway through and he was fine."

I watch Jazz drift off to sleep.

Izzie Stevens took my husband from me.

But she's giving me back my brother.

I'd say that she's giving me something far grander than she took.

However, I'm too overcome to say anything at all.