"It's been a long time."

Stan's hand closed around Karen's, and she noticed the fragility of his fingers, his wrist. This was not the strong, sturdy Stanley she had been married to; this Stan was weak.

A smile formed on his thin lips as she circled her thumb against his knuckle, the slightest hint of the glimmer of tears in her eyes. She was seated on the edge of his hospital bed that was situated in the middle of what used to be his library in the manse. Karen sighed.

"What?" he asked her. His voice was soft, but carried the same weight of concern for her that it always had, even on the day she had said her last good bye and moved out of his life for the next 22 years.

"I used to live here," she replied, shifting her gaze from the line of the ceiling back to his pale face. He nodded slowly.

"Those were wonderful times."

Although Karen wanted to respond, she was thankful that she was too choked up to utter a reply - she wasn't sure what she would've said.

When she had gotten the call earlier that day, a million emotions coursed through her body. She hadn't heard Olivia's voice for two decades, and when she called to say that Stan wanted to see her one last time, she was certain she would never hear it again.

Karen had heard through the grapevine of the select few people from her social circle of the old days that Stanley was ill. She knew he was receiving Hospice service, and that it wouldn't be long until she read his obituary in the Times. But the last thing she was expecting was a phone call from her estranged former step-daughter, declaring that Stan had requested one last audience with Karen.

"Karen…I want to apologize," Stan began. Karen looked down at their entwined hands, shook her head.

"Please, Stanley," she whispered. "Don't do this."

"No, darling, I have to," he replied. From his seated position in the bed next to her, he reached his free hand up to cup her chin, tilt her face up to meet his eyes. "I know I was bad to you…in the middle there. I know I never gave you the chance at the one thing you wanted most…I know I was with a multitude of other women before, during, and after you…but I need you to know…I always loved you the most. And that's the truth. I don't know what I would have done without you."

Karen closed her eyes, not able to look at him. She breathed in and out slowly, forcing the tears in her eyes back into their watery chasms from whence they came. She could not cry now.

"Well," she began, when she felt she was composed enough to look at him again and speak, "you were very good to me, Stan. You gave me some of the best years of my life, and made it a very comfortable life at that. For that, I will always be grateful." She concluded by raising their joined hands and placing a soft kiss on the back of his. She couldn't lie to him - she hadn't loved him in years, but she did acknowledge the fact that he had been a big part of her life, and that he truly did mean a lot to her.

Stan smiled. She blinked back at him, made an attempt to return his smile.

"Do you remember the first time we met?"

Stan's question caught Karen off guard.

"Of course I do."

"You looked so stunning that evening…you were the most beautiful woman I had ever seen."

"That was a long time ago."

"You're still gorgeous, and you know it."

"Is that the only reason you ever married me?"

"It was the reason I married you, yes," Stan admitted, a mischievous grin illuminating his features. "But it wasn't the reason I fell in love with you."

"Well, Stanley…people fall in and out of love," she replied, as if she felt the need to justify the end of their romance. "It's just one of those things."

"What about Jack?" Stan asked. Karen frowned.

"What about him?"

"You're still living with him, aren't you?"

"Yes."

"So you haven't fallen out of love with him, even after 30 years."

"Stanley, I…"

"It's alright, Karen," Stan put his hand to her cheek to silence her. "I always knew you loved him. There was always one big thing I could give you that he couldn't, but in every other way he was the man of your dreams. It's…right, that you ended up with him."

Karen stared at her lap, give a sharp yet quiet laugh. She didn't try to protest or confirm Stan's suggestion, but instead merely bobbed her head back and forth in subtle agreement.

"Today isn't about me, Stanley," she finally said. They shared a deep look for several seconds, neither of them breaking their eye contact as each replayed similar memories in their minds of the times they had shared together. Stan's stiff fingers softly caressed Karen's cheek.

"Dad?" Olivia's voice from the door drew their attention. "Dr. Spiegel is here." She disappeared back into the hallway.

"I should go," Karen told Stan quietly.

"You don't have to," he replied. "Olivia's making tea - you could chat with her while the doctor is here, it won't take very long."

"No, no, I need to be heading back anyway," Karen conceded, standing to hover over Stan's face. "Thank you for asking me here today," she told him, placing a kiss on his cheek.

"Karen," Stan muttered her name, reaching up to pull her closer to him. "I love you." He kissed her lips, and she didn't resist.

When she finally did pull away, there were tears in both of their eyes, as they realized that their bittersweet love story was finally coming to a close.

"Goodbye, Stanley," Karen whispered. They shared one last kiss before she grabbed her purse. When she reached the doorway, she paused, turning back to get one last good look at him. His eyes were closed, his chest rising and falling slowly. A serene smile was on his face. Karen bit her lip and looked down at the floor for a moment to compose herself before pulling the door shut behind her.

Three days later, Karen found a cut out of Stanley Walker's obituary from the paper folded next to her morning oatmeal.