A/N: Hello! Or "surprise," perhaps? These are scenes from Atlas that were left on the cutting room floor, if the cutting room floor means a Word doc last opened in fall 2021/winter 2022. Or just inside my head. Some of the "deleted scenes" were scraps of preliminary dialogue that never made it onto paper, but they were still real to me, because I could see the characters so clearly, and where I wanted the scene to go. An alternate title for this fic could be, "Darlingwrecks still likes to think about this universe." And I do, sometimes! Writing about this family—and this broken and beautiful love story—was fun, and brought me a lot of joy, so I just figured…although it might be self-indulgent, why not revisit Atlas in a non-sequel way and just casually share some things I thought deeply about, since other people seemed to care about this family, too (plus I feel like I have grown *a lot* as a writer in the past two years, so it's nice to be able to see that progress continue). So, welcome to the director's cut, or something? This work in no way takes away from what was originally published, nor does it alter anything that already occurred in the Atlas Universe.
Some context and any relevant information is provided at the beginning of each scene. This update features three scenes, in no particular order. And as for this body of work as a whole…idk, it's open-ended. I sort of see this fic (though it feels funny to call it that) as a running document I will revisit from time to time as the mood strikes, because I occasionally have little "Oh, I forgot I thought about including…" thought bubbles that come up. Anyway. I hope you enjoy! I have several more scenes I am for sure going to post, but these are the ones I wanted to publish first (also, uh, if there's something in particular you'd like to see involving this family, feel free let me know—the term "deleted scenes" is obviously being used pretty liberally here :))
NAME, SCENE 1 - REFERENCES
Chapter 52. "Ruby Josephine," Addison whispers. Her husband never disagreed with her, but realistically, she knows that Ruby's middle name—a literary nod—is more her style than his.
Chapter 50. Addison to Derek: "[Ruby's] name just…there's no story behind it, not really. It wasn't even a name on my list, but we were talking about names one night, and for some reason I threw that one out there, and then Clara started repeating it…although it sounded more like 'roo-wee' at the time."
Chapter 37. Mark to Addison. "But [Little Women] was my mom's favorite book."
Chapter 18, initially, but mentioned throughout after that (this comes up in Scene 2 as well): Mark has a projector nightlight that when turned on, displays a galaxy on the ceiling. He and Addison later bought a similar one for Clara that was ocean-themed. They got one for Ruby as well, which was mentioned, and though I never got into the specifics of hers, I always imagined Ruby's was galaxy-themed, too.
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Name
"Ruby." Addison smiles as she says it again. She places her hand on top of Mark's hand, which is cradled low on her stomach. "Our daughter has a name." This follow-up assertion is nearly cut in half by a yawn, but she does her best to fight through it, determined to stay awake a bit longer for her husband's sake. This time at night—when it is just them—has always been good for reconnecting, and Mark having an opportunity to map his hands over her growing figure while they curl up in bed together is a nice way for him to feel more bonded to the baby (his hands are nice for other things as well, when Addison is less tired).
The name had been a surprise. The bulk of the conversation they had during dinner was about the duplex they are going to tour tomorrow, one of many homes they will have looked at recently. But then, when they started talking about what time they would need to leave—because everything takes longer with a sixteen-month-old—the name popped into Addison's head. Ruby. She said it aloud, testing it, and was pleased to discover it sounded both sweet and strong. Ruby. What about Ruby for the baby? And then Mark grinned. The two of them looked at each other and just knew. And shortly after that, when Clara started repeating the name in that angel-soft voice of hers, as though she was also agreeing? This made it permanent. The last member of their family finally has a name.
"She does. And God, roo-wee"—Mark chuckles, because how Clara pronounced it made the name all the more endearing—"is the cutest damn thing in the world." Their older one's vocabulary is continuing to expand—shoes, done, and car are more recent additions—but mostly, Clara is all about mimicking the adults around her.
"It is. And this baby just…she wasn't a Grace, you know? Graces don't kick their moms this much. I'm sure of it."
In recent weeks, Addison had jotted down several names, including some that were on the same list they picked Clara off of, but nothing sounded good to her. She wanted to find something to complement Clara's name—and ideally, something literary-inspired, and maybe vintage-sounding. She added Grace to the mix recently—which she does like, and at one point this was going to be Clara's middle name, before they landed on Genevieve—and Mark said he liked Grace, too—Gracie, day to day—but Addison did not feel the same hopefulness she felt when Mark told her near Bow Bridge that he liked the name "Clara." And, the second Ruby came to her tonight, Addison realized this was the name she had been searching for, longing for. Their baby could be Grace, yes. But she is meant to be Ruby.
"I'll take your word for it." Mark has not felt his daughter kick yet, but Addison swears the baby is very active. And not so much kick-kicks yet, but swishes and flutters that feel never-ending. "We still need a middle name though. Maybe middle-name-Graces kick their moms a lot?"
"What about Josephine? Ruby Josephine." It is a name she has always liked, and it was on her list for Clara, too—she would have wanted to have called her Josie as a nickname. But, so far Addison has held off on sharing this one. It does not feel like it is Mark's style, and while she knows he will defer to her, she still wants whatever name they choose to be something he likes. Not something he likes just because he likes his wife. "And Ruby Jo when she's in trouble. You can veto it though, if you want. I know it's probably not—"
"Like Little Women, right? I like it. And that—I think I might have told you this once—was actually my mom's favorite book."
"I remember." She cannot summon the particulars, like where they were, or why it came up, but now that Mark has said this, it does ring a bell. "I remember you telling me that. And it's kind of perfect. Now Ruby can have a connection to Jenny, too."
"Do you think it'll upset your mom though? Like that the paternal grandma gets honored twice over and the maternal grandma—"
"You know Bizzy doesn't answer to 'grandma.'"
"—gets squat? She could be Ruby Beatrice, if you wanted to go that route. But"—he speeds up, wanting to convey support—"I do really like Ruby Josephine."
"I don't think Bizzy will get worked up about the name thing…though maybe to be safe, we don't share the Jenny and Jo March connection." Addison can say with certainty that she cares less about her mother's approval now than she did in the past, but she does still care a little. She is making progress though. Therapy continues to help. "Oh." A wave of sympathy rolls through her when she can hear Clara start to cry through the monitor; her upper cuspids have been coming through, and she hasn't been sleeping well as a result. "Roo-wee's big sister needs us."
"I'll bring her in here," Mark offers, "if you want to get the nightlight going." They could just as easily stay in Clara's room and use her nightlight while they soothe her back to sleep—she loves to watch the ocean waves ripple on the ceiling—but Addison looks so comfortable right now. "And Ruby's gonna hate that nickname, by the way."
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NIGHT, SCENE 2 - REFERENCES
Addison and Derek's divorce was finalized at the end of September (chapter 41). This scene ("Night") takes place about two weeks after that. At the time, Addison and Mark still did not know Clara was a girl (though they both thought she was). She was just "Baby" to them.
Out of town mentions: 1) In chapter 30, Addison and Mark went to Montauk (to Addison and Derek's Hamptons residence) one weekend. This was during the period of time when they were newly living together, and on shaky ground. Before they went out to dinner, Mark removed Addison's rings (though she put them back on the next morning). And, later that night, things got steamy—and though they obviously did not know it at the time, that was the night Clara was conceived. 2) In chapter 40, in the lead-up to Addison's divorce finalization, the two of them went to Rockport, Massachusetts. And you may remember this is where they returned for a weekend in the final chapter, too! It also gets acknowledged in chapter 40 that Addison has a habit of stealing Mark's shirts. 3) In chapter 42, Addison had a girls' weekend in Westhampton (where she and Mark eventually purchased a home) with Savvy and Naomi. This happened entirely off-screen.
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Night
He is ready for her. That is the first thing Addison observes when she emerges from the attached bathroom, freshly ready for a sleep she knows will not come easily. Mark is already in bed, and he has flipped down the portion of the comforter that covers her side of the mattress. The galaxy nightlight they keep in the corner of the room is on, but their bedside lamps have not been turned off yet, which means the patches of blue scattered over the ceiling are pale and watered-down looking. It is still a comforting visual though. And Addison will take any additional comfort she can right now.
She tugs on the end of her shirt when she gets into bed, negotiating it back below the elastic waistband of her shorts when moving into place causes it to ride up. Mark's shirt, technically. It is big—too big for him, even. He told her he got it—caught it—a few years ago at a Knicks game. The shirt was shot out of a cannon during a timeout, and he was able to grab it before it sailed over his head, or before anyone around him could get their hands on it. Addison did not ask for more details—she already knows who would have been sitting next to Mark at the game.
She cannot seem to stop crying. Specifically at night, when they are in bed.
"Maybe it's happening there because that's where you feel that you're able to be vulnerable? And where you feel safest?" Marie made this suggestion last week. And Addison nodded as she considered this. Yes, it could be that. The first time she told Mark she was in love with him, they were lying beside one another. And she had felt secure enough to tell him about her mother's suicide attempt at the time, too. "It's also great that you're able to show your boyfriend how you're feeling," her therapist added. "You generally—from what you've told me—avoid being vulnerable in front of others."
Addison knows exactly what fuels this vulnerability: she can be herself with Mark. And he has been so patient with her, so accommodating. She also sincerely appreciates that he has the capacity to understand there is room for two things: she can love him deeply, and want this life with him more than anything in the world, but also still be mourning the end of her marriage.
"I'm not crying yet." There is an attempt to sound bubbly as she shares this with Mark. As though it is something to be proud about. Perhaps it is though.
"No, you're not." He has a hand on Addison's upper arm as he studies her. It has been almost two weeks since her divorce was finalized. She cries each night; he has gotten used to her tears dripping against his throat and the collar of his shirt. It is not hard crying, not like how she fell apart after she signed the papers. It is more of a slow, weary collapse, which is somehow just as painful for Mark to bear witness to. And there isn't anything he can do other than hold her. "You know"— Addison does seem like she might remain tear-free for a little longer, so he decides to take the opening—"I was thinking…what would you think about going out to dinner on Saturday? Like getting dressed up nice and stuff, and going to a fancy restaurant."
Her lips edge apart to form a surprised smile. "Are you asking me out on a date?"
"Yeah, I guess I am." Mark's face feels warmer as he says, "I just kinda thought, we haven't gotten to do this before. I mean, there was that time in the Hamptons, but not really anything since then." They did venture out in Rockport for most of their meals, and he knows Addison knows this, but he thinks she probably regards those outings in the same way he does: not really dates. It was more just that they were hungry and needed food. And they had not gotten dressed up, either. "Plus, that time in the Hamptons…things were different then."
Addison nods in agreement. The difference? The not really anything since then Mark has referenced? She is no longer married. There is no barrier between them. And there is no reason to hide anymore. The history is still there, but it feels like, if they were to go out to dinner, as a couple—a real couple with no other legal attachments—they could just be them.
"You know, the last time we did the nice, get-dressed-up thing…" she peeks down at the curve of her stomach, and fondness washes over her. "We made him that night. Or her. I'm trying to start with 'him' once in a while before our next ultrasound. Just to vary it up. In case we're wrong about the sex."
"Well, events-wise, I might not be able to top that night in Montauk, but we'll still have a good time if we go out."
"I was actually the one on top that night." She grins when Mark starts to laugh—possibly louder than she has ever heard him laugh before. He is still laughing as he brings her closer.
Mark kisses her firmly. "God, I love you," he says, half-laugh and half-growl. Addison is laughing now, too. He is thrilled to see her like this. There is more peace in her eyes tonight. And he is thrilled to kiss her, too. Like this. Lately, it has just been her cheeks, or her forehead, or her hairline he has had contact with—comfort kisses, usually while he is hugging her. Nothing more than that.
And it is an interesting development. He knows that he has grown, that he has matured, because he misses having sex with her, not sex in a general sense. Addison is it for him. And he already knew this, and has known this for a long time, but it is nice to have this be validated in different ways. Mark thinks he will make a point to mention this to Olivia the next time he sees her.
"But, 'in case we're wrong?'" He tucks a strand of hair behind Addison's ear, with affection. They will know soon; her next prenatal appointment is six days away. "When are you ever wrong, Red?"
"True."
"We don't have to go out to dinner though—especially like a fine dining thing—if you're not feeling it." Generally, she is easy to read—for him, at least—but Mark cannot figure out how she is feeling about his suggestion, and if it is maybe asking her to assemble energy and motivation she does not have right now. None of this has been easy on him, either. But he has to prioritize Addison. He has to. "Or we could go another time," he offers, neutral-toned. "No pressure. It was just an idea. And I know the following weekend is your girls' thing with Savvy and Naomi, so we could always wait until after—"
"I want to go. It's okay; I want to go on a date with you."
The truth? Addison kind of wants to go. It sounds great in theory. The thinking and doing part is more challenging. She nods, demonstrating false enthusiasm, when Mark says he will ask Lynette if she has any restaurant recommendations—and Lynette will, of course—and that he will handle the reservation.
This is more for Mark than for you. Do this for him, Addison tells herself. She can see how hard her boyfriend is trying to cheer her up, to help her keep moving forward. So, she can play the part, and cling to the belief that she will end up having fun, and that it will be worth it to put in some effort. It would also be a good idea to buy a new dress for Saturday, but the idea of going shopping has zero appeal—a very clear sign Addison is not in the best head space—so she decides that tomorrow she will text Savvy and see if she hung onto any dresses that were more generous in the middle when she was in her second trimester with Phoebe. She and Savvy have joked before that the student affairs office apparently contained a few oracles, who knew the end result of sticking two freshmen together who were similar in height and shape was going to eventually conclude with them having spring due dates just a year apart.
And going out to dinner does wind up being worth it. It is worth it to catch the look on Mark's face when she meets him in the living room. It is worth it to hear him tell her that she looks beautiful, and that he loves her new dress. Or, Savvy's dress—a perfect-for-fall, burgundy-colored one with a shift silhouette that hits right at the knees—but Mark makes Addison smile when he teases that it is not like she ever gives him his shirts back, so why would something of Savvy's be any different?
It is worth it to go on a date, a real date. It is worth it to hold one of Mark's hands across the table as light flickers from votive candles, and to laugh, to talk, to have the best pasta she has ever had in her life, to share a slice of Tiramisu, and to discuss what they want to do for Thanksgiving—still a month away, but they are a couple and they get to make plans for things like this now.
Addison sits close to him on their cab ride home, eschewing the other window seat in favor of being as near as possible. Mark's blue blazer is draped over her shoulders for extra warmth, which is a little cliché, but mostly just sweet (it looked really handsome on him though; that is another worth it thing). She smiles when he tells her what he has read in his book this week. Baby is now the size of a mango. Baby weighs half a pound. The main airways of her—or his—lungs are beginning to form.
Lungs are needed to breathe. And it feels like she can breathe too again, in some ways.
"We should make sure we do stuff like this once in a while." Addison is in an entirely different mood as Mark follows her down the hallway—she cannot believe there was a part of her that didn't want to go out tonight. She steps out of her pumps once they are inside their bedroom, jiggling her ankles one at a time. "Date stuff, I mean. We haven't had a lot of time to do the boyfriend and girlfriend thing, and when the baby comes we'll be parents, and what we can and can't do will look a little different then, but we'll just…we have to make sure we don't forgot the boyfriend and girlfriend thing, too."
"We won't forget."
"Thank you for dinner." She kisses Mark with intent, first his lips, and then his neck.
When Addison pulls away, she has to hold back laughter as she sees the grin curling across his face—he looks so excited. She slides a hand down to lightly massage him through his slacks. Mark's eyes fall to half-mast, welcoming the sensation.
"I'm sorry." She works a little quicker, undoing his belt, fiddling with a waiting button and zipper, and then dips a hand into his boxer briefs to free him. As she holds him in her palm, she considers how much she has missed this, and she knows Mark has, too. They are a very physical couple, and no, two weeks and some change is not a significant chunk of time to go without sex, but it is for them. The communication part has gotten so, so much better, but sex is still how they show love the most. She uses her other hand to trail her fingertips up and down the length of him. "I know I haven't been—"
"You don't have to apologize." He shakes off whatever Addison was going to say. She has been distraught. Second trimester hormones or not, Mark hadn't expected sex to be of any interest to her lately. "And not to, uh, discourage you"—it's mostly a joke at this point, but he still feels compelled to say it, even though it becomes a lot more difficult to contribute to the conversation when Addison's thumb grazes over him—"but you know you don't have to put out just because I bought you dinner, right?" He drops a hand against the dresser to steady himself. "Ad…"
"I know. I want to though."
Mark cannot resist taking control when they scramble into bed. He nudges Addison's questing hand away and eases her onto her back.
"That wasn't much of a turn for you."
"I know." He presses his mouth to hers when she fake-pouts at him. "I wanna make you feel good first though."
"I always feel good when I'm with you."
He smiles, touched by her admission, and he briefly ducks his head against her shoulder. "And I also want you to not say things like that unless you want this to end embarrassingly fast for me."
"You'll be fine." If there is one thing Addison knows about the man she loves, it is that he can last a long time. "Just…oh." She moans when Mark guides two fingers inside her. And as much as she loves other intimate activities he bestows her with before they get to the main event, she likes that he has chosen to stay close to her right now, to be eye-level as they reconnect. "Just probably not as fine as I'm about to feel."
"That's the plan."
He gives her time to recover afterwards, tracing his fingers absently along her stomach and remaining patient until she tugs on one of his shoulders, encouraging him to move over her. It is loving and lustful in equal turns as he shifts inside her, establishing an exquisite, unhurried rhythm that leads to a finish that has them both gasping for breath.
"That was good," Addison praises later, giggling a little. "We…we really needed that." And this makes Mark laugh, too.
She rolls onto her side, facing him. Theirs is not a perfect love story. It can't be. Not with how it started. And not that any love story, or any relationship, is perfect, but theirs is distinctly complex. All of this started—and then continued—because they elected to be the worst versions of themselves. But, still. They have worked hard to get to this point, and they are continuing to put in the work. And they deserve to be happy. None of the mistakes they made are irredeemable ones.
So, no, it is not a perfect love story, but it is their love story, and it is their love, which does make it perfect, in a way. It's how Mark looks at her. It's how he's here. It's how he cares for her. It's how he'll care for their baby, too. And it's how he chooses to love her, every minute of every day—deeply, irreversibly.
Mark smudges his thumb along a tear that has just rolled down her cheek.
"Not sad tears." She wants to clarify this as he pulls her into his arms. "Happy tears."
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WATER, SCENE 3 - REFERENCES
Chapter 55. In a honeymoon flashback, Mark and Addison are in the Atlantic together; the beach is a short drive from their Westhampton house (the house officially became theirs in September, and they got married/had their honeymoon the following April). It's morning and they are wearing wetsuits. Water scenes are pretty prevalent throughout the fic, and at one point during this scene, Addison tells Mark, "There's something about us and water."
Chapter 37. Addison's grief regarding her separation from Derek reached a breaking point. Mark found her sobbing on the floor of the shower. He did "the works" taking care of her—he helped her to her feet when she was calm enough to be moved, dried her off, towel-dried her hair, brought her pajamas, helped her get into bed, and listened while she shared her feelings. The next morning, Addison told him she was "ready," aka, although she was still nervous about motherhood and stressed about her pending divorce and finding a way to make sure she and Mark could make it as a couple, she felt ready to move forward with the pregnancy. It became real for her.
(I think this was also clear throughout Atlas, but mentioning it here just in case: unlike some of my other works, I didn't stick to "this happened in 2005," hence the mention of the iPhone and FaceTime, both in this scene and in Atlas in general :))
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Water
"I really want to FaceTime"—this is not the first time Addison has said this this weekend—"but I think it would upset Clara to see us on a screen, but not actually be physically accessible." They have done a few video calls with Everett before, and some with Amelia, too, and Clara has vacillated between amusement and disinterest. Addison knows it would be different if it were Clara's parents' faces in the screen though. "It would upset her, right?"
She leans against the bathroom counter while she studies the picture Savvy texted, along with a long, detailed message about how well Clara is doing (which Addison appreciates). In the picture, Phoebe has her arms wrapped around Clara. Phoebe, who recently turned two, is boisterous compared to a more timid, reserved Clara, but she is still relatively gentle with her when they interact. Addison hopes that Phoebe's personality—which is a lot—has helped keep her daughter's little mind occupied this weekend.
"It would upset her, yeah." Mark definitely understands the desire to call. He plans to do the nice thing tomorrow morning when they get back to the city, and let Addison scoop up Clara first, but God, he cannot wait to hold his baby again. "Tomorrow isn't too far away though," he reasons. "And the unabridged version of War and Peace Sav just sent you confirms Clara's doing okay without us. Plus, you know we're going to overcompensate for being away from her." Their daughter will get as much attention as she wants from them this upcoming week; neither Mark nor Addison are returning to work until the following Monday. "Now"—he turns Addison around in his arms—"can you please get out of this wetsuit and get in the shower with me?" He drags the zipper down her spine, carefully, but he can't resist giving her backside an approving pat. "I feel bad that you're still shivering."
"I'm sure that's not the only reason you want me to get naked. And I'm also sure you have some ideas to warm me up again."
Mark does, but he lets the water streaming out of the showerhead take the lead first; he opts to do nothing more than circle his arms around Addison until she is drenched from head to toe. There's something about us and water. That was what she told him earlier, when they were floating in the Atlantic. And Mark agrees. There is something. He leaves a kiss on Addison's damp lips as he mulls this over. She smiles up at him, droplets of moisture bundling her upper lashes. The water, the way it breaks and flows, calls to them, always.
"Warm again?"
"Yes," she confirms. "Very."
He fills his hands with foam from some sort of body wash product Addison left on the caddy the last time they were here. He takes his time as he strokes and kneads her skin, occasionally adjusting her in his embrace to make different parts of her more accessible to him. The long column of her neck. Her shoulders. Her arms. The ridges of her spine. Her back. The curved flesh below her waist. He smooths more foam along her stomach, and then briefly holds her breasts, but more with mellow affection than purpose—it is becoming obvious as Addison's head lazes on his chest that she is not interested in anything else right now.
"You're tired," he remarks, words edged with humor. "Did I finally wear you out?"
"You could at least try to sound less pridefulwhen you say that. It's not you. Well, not entirely you." Addison pushes her nose against the hollow of Mark's throat as she thinks about the very enjoyable encounter they had this morning before they went to the beach. She had stumbled a little when she stood up afterward, weak-kneed, which made them both chuckle. "It's just how warm it is in here. I feel like I hit a wall all of a sudden."
Mark washes her hair next, ignoring weak, doesn't-actually-mean-it mumblings when Addison tells him he does not have to. He doesn't mind. His fingers dig and scrape gently against her scalp as the fragrant scent of rose petals begins to replace ocean salt. The shampoo bottle was shipped over from France, or something ridiculous like that, but Mark no longer raises an eyebrow at anything Addison purchases. He moves a few water-darkened strands of hair that are clinging to her chest out of the way.
"You want me to do your hair next?" Her question sounds sleep-slurred.
"No, it's okay." He reaches behind him to turn off the faucet once her hair has been washed free of suds. "You can get me next time." Addison is resting more of her weight against him, ceding control to him as exhaustion settles further in. Again, he doesn't mind. Floppy tired. That's what they call it with Clara. "C'mon, bunny. Let's get out."
She is quiet, and trustingly compliant as Mark helps her into a fluffy robe, and then sits her down on the teak bench over by the clawfoot tub so he can dry her hair a little bit. Addison has a hand resting on her belly while he does so, and Mark feels a flutter of recognition as he works the towel through her wet locks. There are similarities, but differences, too. Their next baby is in there now. The one they conceived here, actually, back in March.
"You did this once before for me." Addison's words sound clear, and strong, because the feelings tied to that memory have shifted with time. There is less fragility now, less brokenness. The original moment involved grieving for the man she used to be married to—and was still legally married to at the time, as their divorce would not be finalized until early fall—but the memory of that afternoon also includes Mark. And Clara, too, in a includes the people who make Addison happy, who provide her with a sense of wholeness, who are the center of her world. So, when she reflects on that memory now, what she mostly lingers on is what it felt like to be taken care of and loved. Tenderness spirits through her. And this is exactly why she wants to bring it up.
"When I was pregnant with Clara," she adds, though she is sure Mark knows what she is referring to. "But she wasn't Clara then. Or even Baby. She was just…"
"She was just very new," Mark chimes in. "For both of us." They are able to help each other this way with the language sometimes, with the sections of their history that are more complicated. "I remember."
He walks with Addison over to her suitcase once her hair is dry enough, and then watches as she paws through her clothes. He smirks when the end result is his wife trading in the robe for a camisole and a pair of satin shorts. It is somehow the most conservative thing Addison has worn in the bedroom this weekend, and that is saying something, given that the lacy trim at the bottom of the shorts lands high up her thighs, and the thin-strapped tank top dips generously low in the front. Mark can only imagine—though he probably shouldn't devote time to racier thoughts right now—how good the material will feel when he's curled up against her.
"Did you bring a single thing to wear that isn't going to drive me crazy?" He asks. "And while we're on the subject—"
"While you're on the subject," she corrects.
"—I'll seriously do anything if you put on the red set with the bow again."
Addison smiles, flattered. "Let me take a nap first, and then I promise I will. The first trimester is no joke. Even though I'm feeling more in the second one, this weekend."
"And a very specific body part of mine thanks you for that."
"You're so gross." She gives him a playful look. "Why did I marry you again?"
"Well, too late now." Mark touches his lips to her cheek. "You're stuck with me."
