Indigo eyes appraised the quaint house in front of her, quietly situated on the corner of 32nd Street and Lovers Lane.

Arizona hadn't laid eyes on her childhood home in over twelve years, and the surge of emotions that came barreling through her nearly knocked the breath out of her.

It looked almost exactly the way she had remembered it. The smallest house on the street, painted a pale yellow before Arizona had even been born, with a white wraparound porch where her parents would sit to drink their afternoon tea. A neatly kept garden lined the yard, impeccably maintained by her mother, blooming with daffodils and baby blue irises. The grass was vibrant green, and the sidewalk she had once decorated with pastel chalk championed brand new cracks as the foundation began to settle.

The oak tree out front was missing the tire swing Tim had always pushed her in when they were little. She had fallen out once, hard enough to skin up her knees and knock out her front baby tooth, and her brother, four years older than her, had laughed so hard at her that he fell down in the grass and muddied up his only good pair of jeans.

Their father had yelled, face beat red and the vein in his forehead bulging, but it had been so funny they hadn't cared. It was one of Arizona's favorite memories with Tim, one of the several the instantaneously came flooding back to her now.

She turned her car off and let the keys rest in the palm of her hand, parked neatly against the curb in front of her parent's home. "Here we are," the blonde simpered, unbuckling her seatbelt. "I told you it was nothing special." She wasn't embarrassed of her roots, necessarily, but she knew the woman next to her came from old money and a boarding school in northern California, a stark contrast from where Arizona had grown up. She wanted to brace her for the culture shock: the small rickety house, the homecooked Southern food they were sure to eat, the accents, all of it.

"Hush. It's darling, 'Zona, really," Lucy gushed. She glanced herself over in her visor mirror quickly, tucking a lock of ash brown hair behind her ear.

Arizona could tell how badly she wanted to impress her parents, and she smiled at her encouragingly, hoping to pacify some of those worries. "They're going to love you, okay? Relax," she chuckled, willing herself to ignore the burning feeling of guilt starting to stir in her stomach.

Because the truth was, Arizona wasn't nervous for Lucy to meet her parents. She wasn't anxious or tense for things to go well, like she knew she probably should have been. She wasn't even necessarily excited. It was just another motion they were going through, another formal step to take straight out of the unofficial how-to guide for relationships.

She loved Lucy, she genuinely did. She hadn't lied when she told Callie that over the phone the night before. She was sweet, and Arizona knew her like the back of her hand after their four years spent together. Her favorite animal was ducks, she took two sugars in her coffee, and she hated the country music Arizona played sometimes when she was feeling particularly nostalgic. They watched Chopped together on Tuesday nights, and their team always won during trivia night at their favorite bar back in Seattle. She cared about her and wanted good things for her. So, yes, she supposed she loved her too, as much as she could manage to love anyone at all.

But it wasn't the kind of love that set Arizona on fire. Lucy didn't ignite an almost painful spark that burned deep inside of her, kindling embers that no amount of time or distance could stamp out. Music didn't sound sweeter, colors weren't brighter. She didn't feel her heart take flight whenever she walked into the room.

Arizona wasn't so sure she was capable of ever feeling love like that again.

Losing that kind of love had nearly ripped Arizona apart. It had made her vulnerable, made her hurt. It left invisible wounds, left her weak, and she had vowed to never care about anyone that much ever again. Which hadn't been exactly difficult, since no one else was Callie.

Loving Lucy was comfortable and stable and dependable. It was easy. It couldn't hurt her, and that was exactly the way Arizona had wanted it. Always with the upper hand. Always in control. Always safe inside the fortress she had built around her heart all those years ago.

She took her girlfriend's hand and led her up the front porch steps, stepping over the chip Arizona had accidentally put in the paint with her softball bat as a kid. She knocked softly on the front door before pushing it open, poking her head in. "Mama?" she called, slipping back into her southern accent without realizing.

"Oh!" Arizona could hear her mother exclaim from the kitchen, and she smiled at the sound of her voice, immediately filling her with warmth and comfort in the way only a mother could. She pulled Lucy inside and shut the door behind her.

"Mama, this is—"

She was immediately cut off when she was yanked into a suffocating hug, her cheeks squishing up as she was held tightly. "Oh, my baby's finally home," Barbara Robbins squealed happily, pressing an affectionate kiss to her daughter's cheek. Arizona had somehow inherited all of her mother's perkiness and all of her father's stoicism, a perfect blend of the contrasting personalities.

Daniel Robbins stood tall and silent behind his wife, his face unreadable, as it always was, as he watched. "It's been far too long, young lady," he said simply. He opened up his arms and Arizona stood on her tiptoes to hug her father tight, feeling him give her a loving squeeze. He never outwardly expressed his feelings, but Arizona could tell he was happy to see her.

"I know, daddy," she sighed softly and pulled back, eyes studying her parents carefully. They had aged since the last time she saw them, her father's hair whiter than it had been two Christmases ago. Her mother was thinning out and getting shorter, it seemed, and it made Arizona's heart clench painfully in her chest, an unwelcome reminder of how fleeting and temporary their lives were. She cleared her throat quietly and turned to invite Lucy into the conversation. "Mama, daddy, this is—"

She was interrupted again by a sudden, sharp push against her legs, nearly knocking her over.

She looked down into the warm brown eyes of a dog, a gray and black marbled Australian Shepherd, wagging its tail and panting happily, paws resting on Arizona's thighs. The blonde grinned and immediately dropped to her knees, giving her unexpected assailant scratches behind his ear.

"Y'all got a dog?" Arizona asked in astonishment, grinning happily down at her new friend. Arizona had begged for a dog throughout her entire childhood, and her father had always been staunchly opposed, claiming they were too dirty and too impractical. She was surprised to see he had seemingly let up. Daniel Robbins was not a man that tended to bend once he had his mind made up about something.

"This is Samson, dear," Barbara introduced with a beaming grin, as if she were introducing a third child. Seeing the way Arizona's brow raised in obvious questioning, she continued, "It was too quiet and lonely around here once you moved off. Your daddy got me Sammy to help out with the empty nest syndrome a few years back."

Arizona smiled apologetically up at her parents, feeling increasingly guilty for staying gone for so long. "Well, you picked a good one, dad. He's cute," she stood up and brushed the fur off of her hands, turning to look at her girlfriend once more, who was still yet to say a word. She looked clammier than usual, shifting her weight from foot to foot. "Mama, daddy, this, um, this is Lucy." Arizona gestured to her a bit awkwardly, unsure of what to do with her hands. She really wasn't good at this.

Lucy smiled shyly and held out her hand for Barbara, who waved it off and pulled her into a welcoming hug instead. "Hi, Mr. and Mrs. Robbins, it's so lovely to finally meet you," Lucy's voice was quiet and polite.

"You can call me Barbara, sweetheart."

Daniel, on the other hand, kept his face hard and reserved. The joyful glimmer in his eyes from seeing his daughter had dissipated. "Call me the Colonel," he demanded, and Arizona felt her cheeks redden at her father's behavior. He had always been a pretty terrible host, even worse towards his children's significant others. She could tell he was unimpressed with Lucy so far, likely put off by her meek disposition, and Arizona couldn't figure out how to fix it. Her father valued strength and honorability in others above all else. He was a cynic, and Arizona was pretty positive it was impossible for anyone to live up to the impossibly high standards he had set, let alone her nervous wreck of a girlfriend.

Sensing her daughter's embarrassment, and eager to dispose of the tension in the room herself, Barbara rushed to divert everyone's attention. "Let's go eat, dinner's on the table and it's getting cold." She shuffled the small herd toward the dining room. "It's my famous chicken pot pie. That was always Arizona's favorite as a girl. And there's apple cobbler in the oven and homemade vanilla ice cream in the freezer. I know how you love your sweets, sugar," she rambled, and Arizona finally felt herself begin to smile, flooded with the warmth of finally, after so long, being home.

A groan spilled past Arizona's pink lips, and she buried her face in her hands, pinching the bridge of her nose. Yeah, the magic and sweetness of being in her childhood home again had definitely started to wear off.

"Mama," she hissed, "were the baby pictures really necessary?" Her cheeks flushed a bright red, eyeing the large white box in front of Lucy on the living room floor, her girlfriend splayed out on her stomach and flipping through her childhood pictures

Dinner had gone well enough. The tension had eventually subsided, and they had slipped into easy, comfortable conversation about Lucy growing up in California and how her shiny new residency had been going. Her father stayed civil and mostly quiet throughout their meal, and Arizona strongly suspected her mother had kicked him underneath the table to prevent him from interrogating the poor girl.

"Don't be silly, dear, of course they were! Don't be embarrassed, you were the cutest little thing. Everyone always said you could be a Baby Gap model."

Arizona rubbed her temples, trying to shake the tension out of her shoulders. She wasn't embarrassed, and she didn't really care if Lucy looked through them, because her mother was right: she was cute. An angel of a child, with chubby cheeks and dimples and Bambi eyes. No, Arizona didn't want the pictures out because she didn't want to see them, primarily because—

"Who's this girl? She's in almost all of these," Lucy asked curiously, pointing to a picture of Arizona and Callie on Halloween in '99. They were about ten, and Arizona's mother, a seamstress, had spent two weeks hand sewing both of their costumes for them, neither family having enough money to buy a premade one. Arizona was a pink power ranger, her short blonde hair in braids, and Callie had been a ballerina.

"She's an old friend," Arizona answered. It wasn't a lie. As hard as she tried to resist the temptation of looking at the pictures—she knew it would hurt and open old wounds—her eyes scanned greedily over the images anyway, soaking them in, reveling in the memories she had tried to repress for twelve years.

There was Arizona and Callie, aged twelve, standing over a volcano they had made together for the school science fair. Arizona and Callie, pressed cheek to cheek, grinning warmly at the camera at Arizona's ninth birthday party, pink cupcake frosting staining their mouths. Arizona and Callie, right before their senior prom, Arizona's baby blue dress complimenting Callie's pastel yellow. They had been dating for a year by then, in secret. It was taken only a couple of months before they broke up.

"Oh, this is such a good picture of Timothy," Lucy gushed, and Arizona cringed a bit at the sound of his name on her lips. No one called him Timothy except for their father. She reached for the picture Lucy held in her hands and immediately felt her heart soften.

It had been taken when Tim was twelve, and Arizona and Callie were eight. The siblings sported matching dimples and stormy eyes, snuggled up together in the fort they had built using Arizona's dinosaur sheets, watching a VHS copy of Toy Story together. Arizona was in the middle, Callie and Tim on either side of her, her two best friends in the whole world. They had been a package deal, the three of them, before Tim left for the army when Arizona was 14.

She ghosted her fingertips over the image. Her heart felt heavy, weighted down with a melancholic feeling she couldn't quite place. She carefully folded up the picture and slipped it into the back pocket of her jeans when no one was looking, then sat herself down on the floor next to Lucy, pointing to a Callie-free picture of her entire family. "That's my Aunt Jane, mama's sister. And my cousin Nick, the one with the cast on his arm. He broke it on his farm when he and Tim were playing cowboys—"

The sound of Lucy's pager interrupted her, and Arizona bit back the disappointment that flooded her. "I though you weren't on call today?"

"I'm not," Lucy looked at her, eyes soft and apologetic, already getting up to gather her things and leave. "It must be something big. I'm so sorry, 'Zona."

"It's fine."

Lucy turned to face her parents and smiled. "It was so nice meeting you Barbara and…" she hesitated, "…the Colonel. Z and I will have to host dinner next time," she offered. "I'm so sorry for rushing off like this," she halted when she picked up their car keys, remembering only then that they had carpooled. "Um…"

"It's fine, Lucy," Arizona reassured her, eyes closing when Lucy pressed a kiss to her cheek. "I'll just take the bus home tonight. You drive safe. I'll see you…?"

"Tomorrow afternoon, probably." She watched Lucy's freckled nose scrunch in distaste. "The bus, 'Zona? Are you sure? Isn't that dangerous? And…dirty?"

The blonde's brows furrowed a little, struck by how privileged her girlfriend sounded. God, she hoped she hadn't grown to sound like that over the years. "I used to take the bus every day. I think I'll manage for one night," she rolled her stiff shoulders back. "Don't worry about me, you go."

Lucy smiled at her, eyes filled with love, and pecked her mouth quickly. Then she was out the door in an instant.

Arizona turned to face her parents once they were left alone and dimpled, brushing blonde curls out of her face. "Y'all wanna watch a movie?" she suggested, not wanting to leave so soon. "Do you still have that copy of All Quiet on the Western Front?" She had hated her dad's old war movies as a kid, but they were the only films he genuinely enjoyed. She would often sacrifice her tapes of Annie or The Land Before Time to let him watch them, and nine times out of ten she would end up falling asleep in his lap not even a half hour into the movie.

"I think I'm going to head to bed, kiddo," her father said, a bit softer now that they were alone. Daniel ran a tight ship, always in bed by 9 to wake up no later than 4:30 each morning. Seeing the disappointment in his daughter's eyes, he hugged her goodnight. "Don't be such a stranger, young lady," he scolded her gently, and Arizona felt herself start to smile.

"I won't, I promise," she vowed, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "Goodnight, daddy."

After her father retired for the night, Arizona sat down on her knees on the floor next to Samson and started to pick up all of the pictures, organizing them neatly in the box. She felt her mom's eyes on her, and her cheeks flushed, lifting her head to meet matching blue eyes. "What?"

"Nothing. You've just grown into such a pretty girl."

Arizona rolled her eyes, smiling despite herself. "Hush, mama," she giggled. Barbara sat beside her, helping her pick up the photo albums, and they slipped into easy conversation. "Did you like Lucy?"

"She seems nice."

"That wasn't what I asked."

Barbara laughed quietly. She should have known better than to try and evade her daughter, always so observant and astute. "Yes, I like her, from the little I've seen of her so far." She kept her eyes trained on her daughter, studying her face. "Do you like her?"

Arizona's head jerked up, surprised by the question. "What?"

Her mother shrugged nonchalantly. "Do you like her? Are you… happy?"

Her eyebrows furrowed, a little flustered. "She's my girlfriend, mama. Of course I like her." Blonde curls shook. "I love her."

"Okay."

"Okay?" Arizona parroted, growing frustrated.

"It's just…" Barbara chose her words carefully. "You barely look at her. I just want to make sure you're happy."

Arizona frowned, remaining silent. She didn't know how to defend herself because her mother, as usual, was right. She cleared her throat quietly and re-busied herself with putting the pictures away, needing a distraction. "I'm happy enough."

"You shouldn't have to settle for happy enough, sweetheart," Barbara said gently. She wasn't looking to pick a fight, but she was concerned, so she wasn't going to bite her tongue either. "40 years together and I still can't take my eyes off of your father. That's how love should be."

"Maybe some people aren't cut out to love that way."

"Maybe," her mother concurred, her eyes falling on the picture that was currently in her daughter's hands. It was of Arizona and Callie when they were 15, wrapped up in winter coats and scarves in early January. It had snowed, a rare occurrence for southern Georgia, and not very much; the dry grass was barely covered with the white sheath of snow, but they had attempted to build a snowman anyway. Callie was focused on balling up the dirty snow in her mittened hands, and Arizona was focused on Callie, staring at her with soft eyes and a stupid smile. "But I think you are, honey, and I think you have."

Arizona's lips pressed together in solemn understanding. She had never explicitly told her parents that she had dated Callie, but she hadn't outright hidden it either, the way Callie had done. "You knew?"

"Your father and I always suspected," Barbara shrugged a gentle shoulder. "Then when you came out to us during college we were certain. No one looks at a friend that way," she gestured to the picture Arizona held in her hands. The blonde smiled sadly before packing it away. "That and the way you went from talking about her nonstop to avoiding it at all costs. What happened between the two of you, anyway?"

Arizona sighed and closed up the box of memories, taking a seat on the couch beside her mother. She rested her head on the aging woman's shoulder, feeling small, like a vulnerable little kid again. "She broke up with me," Arizona admitted. "At the airport, when we were about to fly to Rhode Island together." She had never talked about the details of that day with anyone, and it felt strange coming off her lips. "Said she had just been experimenting and that she didn't love me and that it was over and all kinds of… awful things," she blinked a few times, hating herself for the way her eyes wanted to water.

Barbara frowned. "Well, that doesn't sound like the Callie I knew."

Arizona shook her head. "It blindsided me. It crushed me. She left and I got on the plane by myself and I tried so hard to understand, for so long. I wrote to her and I called and just… radio silence. Nothing. No explanation," she felt her lower lip start to wobble and she very quickly repressed those emotions once more. Arizona Robbins was excellent at compartmentalizing, for better or for worse.

"Oh, honey," her mother whispered sympathetically, pressing a loving kiss to the crown of her daughter's head. "I can't imagine how hard that must have been to go through all alone, in a brand new city no less."

"I'm sorry for never telling you."

"Don't you be sorry, dear. I understand. Your father does, too."

They sat in silence for a while, Barbara rubbing soothing circles on her back. She didn't want to pry too far for information, as the blonde tended to shut down when pushed. Finally Arizona spoke again, of her own free will, her voice small. "I hated her. For doing that to me. But I still loved her so much. I still worried about her. Sometimes I still do."

Her mother's eyes softened. "I see her outside of the diner sometimes. I suppose she works there. She's still very beautiful," and Arizona had to bite back the oh, trust me, I know that was on the tip of her tongue. "Her mother died a few years after you left. Breast cancer, I think the ladies at the church said it was. Her father packed up and moved to Miami not long after."

Arizona's head snapped up and her face fell. "Lucia…?" And at her mother's nod, Arizona felt her heart break a little. She hadn't known Callie's family exceptionally well, not the way Callie had known hers. She was always a bit scared of Carlos and his mean streak, to be honest, and Callie seemed to be too, spending as much of her free time away from home as she could. Lucia had always been nice enough, though. She baked a pie every year for Callie's birthday, and sometimes she would come to have tea with her mom while they played in the yard. She knew that Callie loved her, and that the cherished yellow ribbon she wore in her hair had been a gift from her.

She remembered the way Callie had held her when Tim died. She was 17 and had cried herself to sleep for weeks in the Latina's arms, and Callie had held per patiently, kissing away every tear. She had brought her water and donuts and made her laugh again. She had held her hand as she healed, stitched her back together with her love.

She sorely wished she had been able to be there for Callie when she lost her mother.

Arizona sighed sadly and buried her face into her mom's shoulder in an affectionate hug. "I'm really happy I still have you, mama. I can't imagine…" she admitted, voice thick with emotion.

Barbara Robbins smiled wistfully and brushed her daughter's hair from her face for her. "Me too, child. Me too."

It was almost 11 o'clock when Arizona finally left her parent's house. She had sat with her mother, over a cup of decaf coffee, and caught up with her, telling her all about her life back in Seattle as well as her new job and new friends at the clinic. It had been cathartic, and she left much lighter than she had arrived.

She rubbed her sleepy eyes as she boarded the old bus she hadn't seen in years, smiling politely at the driver. The bus was mostly empty, with several vacant rows, and she made her way towards one closer to the back.

A gentle hand wrapping around her wrist and the soft sound of her voice being called stopped her. "Arizona?"

It was Callie, slumped down slightly in her seat and grinning up at the blonde. Arizona's eyes lit up. "Calliope. I didn't even see you. This seat taken?" She giggled when Callie shook her head and sat down beside her, their thighs brushing. She tried to ignore how mind numbingly good it felt to be so close to her.

She looked tired but so beautiful. She couldn't stop looking at her.

"What's the big shot doctor doing on the public bus?" Callie teased, tapping their knees together.

Arizona rolled her eyes. "Long story. Did you just get off work?" At Callie's nod, she tilted her head curiously. "Was the bus stop less scary tonight?"

"Still scary," Callie admitted, and blue eyes narrowed at her. "My boss, Mark, keeps joking that I should start carrying one of the kitchen knives with me."

"You should have called me again, Callie."

The brunette laughed tiredly. She pulled the ribbon out of her long hair and let it fall down around her shoulders in messy waves, framing her face. "I didn't want to annoy you."

"Nothing about you is annoying," Arizona's hand rested on her knee, squeezing it gently to reassure her. "Besides, if you call me every night I won't have to worry about you getting home safe."

Callie's eyebrow raised. Arizona worried about her? "I think you just wanna hear my voice every night," the brunette smirked.

"Maybe," she played along, dimples popping. It almost scared her how easily they could fall back into banter like this. Her eyes shifted, momentarily, to the window behind Callie as the bus approached its next stop, an idea popping into her head. "Are you hungry?"

"What?" Callie asked with a chuckle, so sleepy and so distracted by Arizona's hand on her leg she thought she misheard the question.

Arizona laughed, the happy noise that bubbled out of her making Callie's heart hurt. "Are you hungry?" she repeated, scrunching her nose at the confused look Callie gave her. "Don't look at me like that, Callie, just answer the question."

Callie hesitated because, yes, she was hungry. She had had to skip a few meals lately to afford all of rent and to stash a few dollars away for the pie contest without Luke noticing. "A little, I guess."

"Good! Let's take a little detour. My treat," Arizona's eyes gleamed with a mischievous sparkle.

Callie smiled, the excitement in Arizona's voice adorable. It was a Saturday night, which meant Luke would be out drinking beers with his buddies until at least one in the morning, giving her a little more freedom than typical. "I have to be home by midnight," she protested quietly. She had learned long ago that it was better safe than sorry when it came to him.

"I can have you home by then, Cinderella," Arizona rolled her eyes and smiled coyly and grabbed the Latina's hand, giving it a gentle pull, leading her toward the exit of the bus. She was literally bouncing down the aisle, buzzing with excitement, and Callie grinned like an idiot as she watched her. "Come on, we've got big places to be."

"This is the big places we had to be?" Callie asked with a laugh.

They were sitting side by side on the curb outside of McDonald's, the only fast food restaurant in Sweetwine, and Callie was eating the chicken nuggets Arizona had insisted she buy her.

The blonde lapped at the vanilla ice cream cone in her hands and laughed. "Shut up. It's the only place open this late." She licked a sticky drop of ice cream off her wrist that had dribbled down it, the Georgia heat melting her dessert faster than she could eat it, and Callie had to actively tear her eyes away from the sight.

"I feel like, as my doctor, you really shouldn't be endorsing me eating fast food," Callie teased her.

"I probably shouldn't kiss you as your doctor, either, but it's too late for that," she countered, and Callie's eyes darkened.

A beat of silence as both girls recovered from their mouths running dry.

Then Callie remembered something Arizona had mentioned on the phone last night, and she sobered up quickly. "Lucy met your parents?"

Arizona's playful smile faltered a bit and she sat up straighter. "Yeah, she did."

"How'd it go?"

"It… went," Arizona laughed humorlessly. "I don't think my dad's a huge fan."

"I was joking about sending her a fruit basket, but maybe I'll actually have to," she smiled sympathetically, and it melted into a true smile at the sound of Arizona's laugh.

The blonde reached into her back pocket to pull out the folded picture she had stashed earlier, quickly handing it over to Callie to avoid getting it sticky with her ice cream. "Look what I found today."

The brunette put her chicken nugget down and wiped her hands on her apron before taking the folded-up-something from her ex, eyeing her curiously. She laid it out flat, eyes softening as they landed on the picture of her and Arizona and Tim. "Oh," she whispered, rendered speechless for a moment. "God, I miss this."

"I miss it, too. I miss him," Arizona admitted sadly. She dropped her unfinished, half melted ice cream cone into the McDonald's bag they were using as a makeshift trash can, deciding she didn't want any more. She rested her elbows on her knees and her chin in the palm of her hands, watching Callie with big indigo eyes before confessing quietly, "I missed you."

Callie closed her eyes momentarily, willing herself not to melt on the spot. "I missed you, Arizona. You have no idea how much."

The blonde inched closer. She rested a cold hand on Callie's knee, smiling when it caused the brunette to open those smoky eyes again.

The stared at each other silently, comfortably, taking a few indulgent moments to refamiliarize themselves with the other. They memorized the new freckles, the new smile lines.

And then Callie was leaning in and kissing her, much gentler this time than in the examination room. Hands went to cheeks and tangled in hair and they melted together, briefly, before it was over all too soon.

Because Arizona was pulling away from her, and Callie could tell from that trademark look in her eyes that her mind was racing. "I can't—" she was breathless, even from a kiss lasting less than ten seconds, "I don't want to do this."

Callie could feel the way her face fell, and Arizona must have noticed it too, because she rushed to gently cup her cheek to keep her from turning away from her. Her thumb feathered over her cheekbone affectionately. "I meant that I don't want to kiss you in doctor's offices and dirty parking lots, Callie. You mean more to me than that."

Callie blinked a few times, then sighed quietly, because she knew the blonde was right. She pecked Arizona's lips gently before pulling away completely. "Any chance you're free tomorrow morning?" Callie tried, picking up her late dinner once more to finish it. She really had to get going soon. "The diner doesn't open until noon 'cause of church. I could finally make you that pie you've been begging for, if you're interested."

"I'm very interested," she smiled softly, hating the way butterflies stirred in her stomach at the thought of seeing her again. "Is 8 AM alright?"

"8 is perfect," Callie pushed herself off from the curb and dusted off her uniform, tossing their trash in the garbage can. She turned to the blonde, holding out a hand to help her up, which she gladly accepted. Callie wrinkled her nose. "Ew," she laughed, moving to pull her hand away, "you're all sticky."

"But sweet," Arizona shot her a toothy grin, wrapping her hand tighter around Callie's fingers to keep her from withdrawing them. She used her free hand to shove the picture back into her jeans and guided them lazily toward the bus stop.

As they sat beneath the orange-hued stoplight and waited for their bus, Arizona caught herself staring at the taller Latina, eyes greedily soaking in the way her hair fell over her shoulder, the steady rise and fall of her chest as she breathed. Those strong eyebrows and high cheekbones and whiskey-colored eyes. She found her miraculous, breathtakingly stunning.

40 years together and I still can't take my eyes off of your father. That's how love should be, her mother's words from earlier that evening echoed in her ears.

The carefully constructed fortress around her heart was cracking.

And she was letting it fall.