"I didn't know," Holly said, struggling against the instinct to stare.

But Gail just shrugged, indifferent to people staring. If there's one thing she'd learned in the past several months, it was that everybody stared at pregnant women.

Everybody.

"It's kind of hard to spread the news when someone won't answer your calls anymore," Gail said, her voice steady and without any of the bitterness that Holly figured she deserved.

"Gail, I—" Holly started, and then paused as she watched the shadows on the blonde's swollen belly shift as the baby kicked and stretched. She started to reach out, but then pulled her hand back. She had no right to touch this woman anymore. No right to share in the miracle that was Gail and her child.

The police officer just watched her with guarded eyes.

"How," the doctor asked, absolutely aware of how stupid the question was, but unable to form any thoughts more complex than that.

Something flashed across Gail's face, and for a minute, Holly felt the ice between them crack.

"You have a medical degree, Stewart," Gail answered, "I'm pretty they covered the reproductive system at some point at your fancy-pants doctor school."

But Holly couldn't let her brush the question away, couldn't let Gail pretend that at one point, there hadn't been walls between them. And true, she'd walked away. She'd given Gail the bricks, the mortar. She'd told the blonde that there was nothing between them anymore, that they were over and done.

True, Holly thought to herself, she'd ruined it. Ruined everything. Ruined the greatest thing she'd ever been a part of.

But she'd had her reasons.

And so had Gail.

She was moving to a different country. Starting a new job. She was taking one path in life, and Gail, dear beloved Gail was taking another. Gail was ready to be a mom. Gail wanted to adopt a little girl and start a family.

So when she told Gail that she couldn't do long-distance, that she wasn't ready to be a mother, she honestly, truly, thought it was for the best. They'd both mourn the end of their relationship for a little while and eventually move on, and hopefully, still be friends in the end.

Except it had been too hard. Too hard to hear from Gail, to want to hear from her, to wait to hear from her. It had been too hard to constantly be reminded about the woman she still desperately loved, the woman she was certain that she'd had to give up.

And so eventually, she asked Gail to stop—stop calling, stop texting, stop emailing. Just stop. It was for the best, she'd told the blonde. For both of them.

And for a little while, it was easier. It was easier not to hear from Gail, not to know what was going on, not to wonder.

Except, Holly had realized, she was still waiting, and wondering, and wishing. But by that point, she'd gone too far down the wrong road to turn around, to take everything back and tell the blonde woman who haunted her thoughts that she was sorry, that she was stupid, that she was wrong.

It took almost three years before she gave up, gave in. Almost three years before she accepted that she couldn't pretend any longer, couldn't deny that she was still head over heels in love with the sassy blonde police officer she'd left behind in Canada. Three years until she could no longer pretend that any place other than Toronto, than Gail, was home.

She knew bits and pieces about what had been going on in Gail's life over the past few years. Little bits of gossip gleaned from casual conversations with Traci, one of the few people she'd kept in touch with from the Fifteen. So she knew that Gail had been promoted to detective, that she'd moved out of the Frat and bought a place of her own a year ago.

And she knew that Gail was single. That there hadn't been anyone significant in the blonde's life since their break-up.

It was that fact that gave Holly the hope, the courage, to come back. To try and see if they could start anew.

She hadn't been prepared, though, for what she found when she knocked at Gail's door. She'd been prepared for anger, for a chilly reception, for Gail to close the door and ignore her.

What she hadn't been prepared for, what Traci had curiously left out of all their conversations, was the fact that Gail was pregnant. Obviously so. Seven months at least, by Holly's estimation.

"Gail," she said, her voice patient.

The blonde just pressed a hand to the small of her back and sighed. She turned and started to walk back into her home.

"Are you coming, Stewart," she called back, "because if you want the story you're going to have to follow. My back is hurting and I want to sit down."

Holly wasted no time following after her ex, closing the door behind her and heading toward what she assumed was the living room.

There, Gail was sitting on a comfortable looking chair with her feet propped up on an ottoman and a pillow behind her to support her back.

"So," she said as Holly sat gingerly on the couch opposite, "did you really come here for a lecture on the birds and bees, Holly?"

The brunette shook her head. "I came to see you," she said, "because I missed you. Because life without you isn't, well, it isn't a life. Not the kind of life I want to live anyway."

She looked up at Gail, seeing the fatigue in the other woman's beautiful face, seeing the pain and the hurt in those blue eyes.

"I came back because I was wrong, Gail," Holly continued, "because I made a decision for the both of us, and it was the wrong decision. Because I love you, and I wanted to see if you still felt anything for me, if we could try to start again."

Gail was quiet for a moment, hands folded neatly over her round belly.

"I didn't get to adopt Sophie," she said, her voice sad.

Holly nodded her head. "I know, Traci told me," she answered.

"I didn't get to adopt Sophie, and when I found out, I needed you. I needed to talk to you. But you wouldn't answer my calls, or return them. You cut me out of your life, Holly. I needed you and you weren't there anymore, you refused to be there."

Tears formed in the corner of Gail's eyes, and Holly felt her own respond in kind.

"Everyone I've ever loved has left me," Gail said with a thick voice, "Chris, Nicholas, and then there was you, and I thought I found someone I could be with, someone who would stay. And sure," she said, "I messed it up. But even when we tried to fix it, Holly, you left anyway. You left me to go to San Francisco, and even though I hated it, I understood. But then you left me again, Holly. You told me you couldn't talk to me anymore, you told me you couldn't be a part of my life anymore, and that hurt. That I couldn't understand."

Holly's heart ached hearing the pain in Gail's voice, seeing the tracks of tears on the woman's pale face.

"Honey," she tried to say, but Gail shook her head and continued.

"And it doesn't matter. It doesn't matter that they left, or you left. It doesn't matter that I couldn't adopt Sophie. Those things, they were all for the best. I wasn't ready then, not to be with someone, not to be someone's mother. But I worked—hard—to be a better person. To grow up. And I did. And I decided that I didn't need anyone—not them, not you. I could do this on my own."

She shifted in her chair, massaging her side, just under her ribs, as she did.

"Gail, I'm sorry," Holly said as she leaned forward, hoping that the blonde could see how deeply she meant it, "I'd say that I didn't mean to hurt you, but I knew that you'd be hurt. That we both would be. I just thought that what I was doing would save us more hurt in the long run."

For a minute, Gail just looked at the brunette, silent. Holly felt the heat of her gaze like some sort of absolution, purification. Whatever happened next, she was ready. She could accept it. She deserved it.

When she spoke, the blonde's voice was quiet but steady.

"I know," she said, "I know. And I understand now, why you did what you did. I didn't then, but I do now."

She shimmied to the edge of the chair and then slowly stood up, taking a moment to make sure she was steady before coming to sit on the ottoman in front of Holly. Their knees touched, and Gail reached out to take the doctor's hands into her own.

"I do now," she repeated, "and I forgive you."

The tears went unnoticed for a moment, until Holly blinked and felt the wetness splash onto her cheeks.

Until that moment, she'd had no idea just how much she'd needed to hear those words, needed Gail to forgive her.

"Gail," she said, "I—…"

But she couldn't finish, words escaped her.

They sat like that for a while, Holly's tears running down her face and her hands safe in Gail's, until Gail's back protested again and then the baby kicked viciously against her bladder util she stood up to go to the restroom.

When she came back, Holly's tears were dry, and she was standing in front of the small fireplace.

"So," Gail said, and leaned against the entryway, "how long are you in town for?"

Holly looked at her, and fought the nervous urge to shove her hands into her pockets.

"For good, Gail. I'm moving back for good. I have a position at the medical college waiting for me, and I'm signing the lease on an apartment later this week."

The blonde nodded, not sure what to say.

"I came here for a reason, you know," Holly said, "I wanted to see if there was still anything between us. If we could try again, start over."

"Ahhh," Gail replied, still rubbing her hand over her side. "Obviously Traci didn't tell you about any of this," she pointed to her belly with her free hand.

Holly took a step forward, and then another. "This," she said, very deliberately, "doesn't change why I came."

When she was standing in front of the blonde, in front of the woman who still made her heart trip and soar, she reached out and this time she allowed herself to touch Gail's swollen belly, Gail's child.

"This changes everything," her voice reverent as she felt the baby move under her hand, "but it doesn't change how I feel about you, or the fact that I want to know if we can try again, if there's room for me in your life and in your heart."

She looked up into Gail's eyes and saw the tiniest sliver of hope, the same hope her heart was clinging to.

"We get hungry around six o'clock," Gail said after a moment, "and today we're craving steak. Big, thick, juicy steaks. And don't forget the fries. The kid loves fries."

It took Holly a second to realize that she was being offered a second—or third—chance. That Gail was extending an olive branch.

But when she did, her heart soared.

"Six o'clock, steak, and fries," she said, a wide smile on her face, "I can do that. Anything else?"

Gail smiled too.

"Yes," she replied, "your pajamas. We're in the mood for a Star Wars marathon."

Holly couldn't help it, she laughed.