Author's Note: Okay, before I even start, I would like to apologise for the rash, story finishing promise I made, promptly before dropping off the edge of the planet for the last three weeks, or however long it's been. My over-optimism was followed swiftly by an enormous virus/spyware problem that knocked the laptop out for a fortnight, and since then I've been recovering from New Years Eve (yes, it's the eleventh of January and I'm still recovering from New Years. What can I say, it was a good night!) So from now on, I'm going to keep my mouth shut and just write. (Hurrah I hear you all say.) Oh, and two hundred reviews? I love you.

Disclaimer: As before

Addison had been watching the clock, its hour hand dragging painfully slowly around its pale face, ever since around four thirty. She knew, of course, that her shift didn't end until seven, and it was busy so the chances of her being able to leave before, oh, nine o'clock, were slim, but still she was watching the clock. She ached to be at home with Alex.

At ten this morning, over a quick coffee in their office (she always sat at Alex's desk when he wasn't there) she had allowed herself to wonder how his packing was going, and by lunchtime, she began to imagine what her penthouse would look like with his things in it. The answer to which, naturally, was no different at all, because he didn't have any stuff and the only signs of his presence would be a second razor and toothbrush in the bathroom, a few shirts in the closet and more varied CD collection. But she still felt a little tingle shiver its way down her spine at the thought of it all the same.

She loved the idea that whenever she did get home tonight, he would be there. That he would always be there. One thing she missed about her marriage to Derek – just about the only thing, these days – was the sharing of space. Since leaving Seattle, although living in her fabulous, beautiful beach house overlooking the Pacific Ocean was idyllic, when she came home at night, everything was exactly as she had left it in the morning when she'd walked out of the door, and that had always depressed the Hell out of her. It seemed to her to epitomise the loneliness of her life. It emphasised, to the point of mockery, the fact that at the end of the day, she really was alone.

And now… From now on, when she came home from work maybe Alex's tie would be over the back of the couch, or his jacket hung on the peg by the door, or… Or something delicious for dinner would be cooking and there would be an enormous glass of red wine poured out and waiting for her. Whatever, it didn't matter. It didn't matter if he'd made a mess or moved her things (although there would be trouble if he'd spilt something on the suede couch), it wasn't about what the difference was; it was symbolic.

All that mattered was that there was something more than just work in her life and best of all, and that that something was Alex.

She was about to start a surgery, but there was a phone in the scrub room so before she started the ritual of washing, scrubbing, and on impulse she picked up the receiver and dialled her own number.

His voice was warm and familiar as he answered, as if he had been expecting her to call. 'Hello?'

'Hey, it's only me,' she replied.

'Not "only" babe. How are you?'

'Okay. Busy. I'm about to scrub in with Plastics on a cleft palate repair on the Timms baby. I was just calling to see how the move went.'

He chuckled softly; the "move", as she called it, had taken about half an hour, and most of that was taken up by the drive through the omnipresent London traffic from the hotel to the penthouse, and working out how to fit two suitcases into the trunk of Tina's car. People always said that moving house was the most stressful thing you ever had to do, but the stress of his particular experience earlier had been when Steve had started trying out gadgets in the kitchen that fascinated him and Alex had become a little jumpy that Addison would come home and wonder why the Hell there were a dozen cans of soup open and that the batteries were dead in her electric can opener.

When he'd finally kicked Steve and Tina out after rooting through the cupboards, and feeding them smoked salmon sandwiches for lunch (typical Addison – no cheese or ham or tuna or anything a normal person would put in a sandwich, but smoked salmon galore), he'd unpacked in all of ten minutes, and since then had been relaxing, making the most of a rare day off. However, after half an hour of daytime television, he swiftly remembered why he was a workaholic and after popping out to buy a few things for dinner, spent the rest of the day missing Addison. Her call had definitely been the highlight.

'It was fine, uneventful. Would have been better if you were here to welcome me though,' he said. 'Cleft palate repair, hey?' he added with interest. 'Who are you operating with?'

'Edwards. It could be a long one though, I wanted to let you know that I might be late home tonight.'

She heard him laughing down the phone. 'What?' she asked indignantly.

'You're going to be late? Okay dear, I'll keep the dinner warm in the oven until you get home,' he mocked.

'Oh, go to Hell.'

'No, I think it's charming, all this domesticity. I never knew the great Addison Montgomery had it in her.'

'I'm full of surprises,' she said sarcastically. Alex knew perfectly well that she lacked any sense of domestic skills to the point of needing the instruction manual to change the filter in the coffee percolator.

His voice softened. 'I can't wait to find out.'

God, just his tone could make her melt inside. Even Derek had never made her feel like such a teenager. 'Well, if I ever get home tonight…' She let the sentence hang in the air, her voice full of promise. Suddenly they were both very aware of what was on the agenda for when she did finish work.

There was a long moment of silence, which was interrupted at Addison's end with a tapping on the glass. Edwards was already scrubbed in and in the theatre – he was indicating at her to hurry up.

'Sorry, I've got to go. They're ready to start.'

'I'll see you later.' His voice was dripping with seduction, and her felt her pulse quicken at the thought of him.

'I'm looking forward to it.'

'Not half as much as I am Addison.'

Slowly, she turned on the tap, and started scrubbing, trying to calm herself with deep breaths. Christ, how the Hell was she meant to do a surgery with that on her mind?