I finally get home around two in the morning and the house is dark, empty, and cold. I trudge heavily down the hallway and into my bedroom, and flick on the light to see the damage. The bed unmade and messy, the small bloodstain on the carpet beside the bed, and all the drawers and the closet doors flung open. All of Caroline's clothes are gone, her make-up and perfumes and whatnot missing from the vanity.

I sigh and grab some pajamas out of the dresser, then take my pillow from the bed and head out to the couch. I'm not sleeping in that room. Not in that bed. I refuse to.

As I flop onto the couch and stare blankly into the darkness, I wonder how I'm ever going to explain this to my kids.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

The morning comes far too soon and I find myself calling into work sick as the first thing I do after I wake up. I just can't make myself go today. Even if Spot will be there, I can't go. Can't face Caroline, can't see my students, can't see my coworkers. All I want to do is sit on the couch and do nothing all day.

I call my mom to explain everything that's going on and ask her to keep Junior and Maria for a couple of days, and she responds in her normal fashion: with a slew of rather creative obscenities in Italian. "I knew that girl wasn't no good for you, Anthony," she says, clucking her tongue. "Two-timing my baby. That girl's not right in the head. Crazy. You don't need no crazy girl, Anthony. You married an Irish girl and they're no good... don't tell your papa I said that, okay?" She sighs. "Anyway, you need yourself a good Italian girl who knows how to take care of a man. One who'll love you and run your household right and take care of your babies and actually cook. None of this Mick meat-and-potatoes bullshit." She mutters something under her breath in Italian and I roll my eyes. "We will find you a good, sane Italian girl, alright, Anthony?" Right, well, other than the fact that there is no such thing as a sane Italian girl...

"Yeah, see, Ma, that's the thing, I gotta tell you something..."

"There's this real nice girl, her name is Camilla, I think, and she goes to church with your papa and me, she's maybe, oh, twenty-five, twenty-six at the most. She's single, awful pretty, I hear she's a great cook, and she met the kids today and she just absolutely adored them. Well, who could blame her? Anyway. She'd be good for you, Anthony, don't you think?"

"Ma, I wanted to tell you--"

"We'll worry about that later, though. Look, I'll keep Junior and Maria until you're ready for them to come home. Don't worry, I don't mind at all. I'll come by and pick up their clothes and stuff. Oh, I'll bring you some lasagna, too. I know you. I bet you haven't eaten all day."

"Ma, I don't need lasagna. I need to tell you something—"

"Oh, shit. I forgot to put Maria's coat on her when I took her to daycare this morning. I have to take it to her before she has her recess. Gotta go. L'amo, il bambino."

"Ma!" I shout into the phone, but the line has already gone dead.

I sigh and sink further down into the couch.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

I sleep away most of the day Monday and wake up Tuesday morning to a refrigerator full of random foods and a stack of clean laundry, thanks to my mother, who ransacked my house after nearly tying me to a dining-room chair and force-feeding me lasagna.

After a boiling-hot shower, I drag myself into work and find Spot waiting in my office. "Good morning," he says, taking his feet off my desk and spinning around in my chair. "Glad to see you made it in today. Are we feeling better?"

I shrug as I close the door and set my briefcase down. "I guess. I still don't want to be here."

Spot gets up and wraps his arms around my shoulders, pulling me into a warm hug. "I know you don't." He smiles and runs a hand over my head, a gesture I find unusually warm. "I'm really glad you came, though. I didn't know if you were going to, you know, since you stayed home yesterday and moped around like a bum." He grins and presses his lips softly to mine, and I can't help but smile.

"Thanks, Spot."

"You taste like cannoli."

I laugh. "Yeah, my ma brought over somewhere close to a week's worth of food last night, though she thinks of it more like two days' worth, and so I had some of it for breakfast." I shrug. "Apparently I'm depressed or something, and so I need to eat. A lot."

"And I bet you didn't even bring me any, did you?" He pouts, and I swear, this guy actually gives Maria a run for her money.

"No," I say, chuckling. "But you could come over tonight and have some, if you wanted."

"Is this you hinting that you don't want to be alone?"

"Maybe," I shrug. "It's kinda weird, being alone... I mean, my kids aren't even home. I'm a little lonely."

"Okay, well, on one condition." Spot lets go of me.

"What's that?"

"You have to talk to Caroline today."

I groan. "Spot, I can't talk to her. What the hell am I supposed to say?"

Spot sits on my desk and looks at me. "Tell her you're a hypocrite. Talk things out. Tell her about me. You know you have to sometime," he says when I wince.

"Yeah, but it's going to be awkward."

"C'est la vie, my friend." He rolls his eyes. "Besides, you guys have to talk. You can't just go right ahead and get a divorce, which you know you're going to do eventually anyway, and let the papers do the talking for you. It'll be messy, and you don't want that, trust me. I mean, do you want your kids to have to go through a divorce that's all gruesome and drawn-out, or one that's just clean-cut, simple, and amicable?"

He has a point. Not that I'll admit it to him. His ego is big enough as it is without people telling him he's right. "I don't know, Spot. I just don't know if I can look her in the eye."

"Funny, she feels the same way about you."

"How would you know?"

Spot laughs. "Hello? Earth to Race! Your wife is the head of the music department." He rolls his eyes. "Anyway, she had more trouble meeting eyes with me today than I imagine she will with you."

I sigh and shake my head. "Spot, do I really have to do this?" I imagine I sound not unlike a certain couple of children I know when they don't want to do something.

Spot puts on his most powerful, stern facial expression. He's good at those, and you wouldn't think it because he's so little, but he's really a persuasive and intimidating kind of guy sometimes. "Yes, Race, you really have to do this."

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

I knock softly on the open door of Caroline's office after school gets out and wait for her to turn around. She sits at her desk, slumped over the keyboard, her face in her hands. She doesn't even turn around. "Come in," she says, her voice small and further muffled by the heels of her hands.

I step into the tiny office and close the door behind me. "Caro."

She drops her hands and her back stiffens as she slowly turns around in her chair. "Tony. I didn't think you were here today."

"Well, I figured I shouldn't miss any more work. Three days this year is more than enough, as Snyder has let me know already." I shrug. "So, um... we need to talk."

Her face is bright red. "Yeah. We do."

I clear my throat and stare down at my feet, shoving my hands in my pockets.

"I'm sorry, Tony."

"I am, too."

Caroline looks confused. "What do you have to be sorry for?"

"Well... I had no right to act the way I did. I mean... it's not like I'm entirely perfect." I sigh. "And it's not like I was entirely faithful."

"What?" She sits back in her chair, watching me.

"Um... well, I kind of had a... a thing with someone when I went to Specs and Dutchy's wedding. And it kind of... didn't stop."

She blinks at me. "Who is it?"

"It's kind of embarrassing."

"I think we're past the point of embarrassment, Tony."

I sigh. "Well... you know Spot?"

"Oh, my God." Her hand comes up to her mouth. "So, you're gay now?"

"I... well, I don't know that it's a 'now' kind of thing. It didn't just happen." I lean against the file cabinet, looking around the small room. "See, that falling-out I told you about, the one between me and Spot in high school, that was because we were kind of fooling around, and he told me he was in love with me. And I felt the same way, but I wouldn't admit it because I didn't want to be gay. So we got in this huge fight and quit talking."

"And then you started dating me."

"And then I started dating you."

Caroline shakes her head. "So I'm a beard. Fantastic. My life is perfect."

I can't help but chuckle, which turns into a laugh, and then Caroline joins in and soon we're both cracking up.

We are so fucked up.

"So," Caroline says as she wipes tears from her eyes and tries to catch her breath, "what are we going to do?"

I shrug. "I don't know. I mean, I guess we kind of have to, y'know, get a divorce."

"I guess." She sighs and leans back in her chair, placing a hand unconsciously on her stomach.

"What are we going to do about the baby?"

She blushes. "See, Tony, the thing is... we don't have to do anything about the baby."

I blink, confused. "What do you mean..." It hits me. "Oh. Oh."

Caroline nods, looking down at the floor. "Sorry."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah. Like, ninety-five percent."

"Okay. Um. Well, thanks for telling me." I sigh, looking at the floor as well. "So... how long has this been going on?"

"Like a year, I guess." She shrugs.

"Do you love him?"

"I do, yeah."

I bite my lip. "Well... at least it's not just sex."

"What about you? Do you love Nate – I mean, Spot?"

"Yeah. I think so."

We stay in silence for a while, the air between us heavy. "So where are you staying?"

"With Stephen." Caroline looks up at me. "I guess I'm going to be moving in there in a little while. It's not a real big place, but there's room for him and me and the baby."

"Oh. Well, I'm sure you'll be happy. I hope so, at least." I pause for a moment. "Um, what about Junior and Maria?"

"I talked to Stephen about them. He says he doesn't really want to take care of another man's children. I mean... if, or when, rather, you and I get divorced, I'll still take them weekends or every other weekend or whatever, but Stephen just doesn't want them living with us."

"Uh-huh." I nod. "Okay. Well, I can take custody, I guess. You do realize that means child support, though, right?"

"Yeah. And it's not like I'll try and back out of that."

"Okay."

"Well... I need to get going. I'm supposed to meet Stephen for dinner."

"Alright. I should swing by my parents' house and let the kids know I still exist." I sigh. "You and I need to sit down and talk with them, sometime soon."

"Okay. You know where to find me."

She stands up and grabs her briefcase and her keys, then smiles at me a little sadly. "Tony, you know this doesn't mean I never loved you. I did. And I still do, very much. Just not in the same way."

I smile back. "Yeah, same here."

And with a hug and a quick kiss on my cheek, she's gone.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

"You guys are so fucking weird," Spot says with a roll of his pretty blue, Irish eyes, shoving a cannolo into his mouth. "I mean, how many couples do you know who will one day barely be talking, then the next day the husband is breaking the wife's lover's nose, and then two days later they're hugging and talking about a divorce like it's a normal, everyday thing?"

I shrug. "Well, at least we aren't trying to kill each other." I drink some water and lean back against the couch cushions. "And I don't have to sneak around anymore. I guess she doesn't have to, either."

"So..." Spot gives me a little impish grin. "Does this mean we can get married and adopt little Ethiopian babies?"

I smack him on the back of his head. "We're not getting married, and I already have two babies, but you can adopt them if you'd like."

He smiles a little even as he rubs his head. "So we're going to be together?"

"Yeah, I figure I'll keep you around. You're useful for some things."

"Gee, thanks." He leans his head on my shoulder. "Only problem is, you live here and I live in the city and run my shop. What are we gonna do about that?"

"Well..." I wrap an arm around his shoulders and sigh. "Your shop's pretty successful, isn't it?"

"I fare pretty well for myself, yeah."

"You can get rid of your apartment, move out here, and open up another branch of your shop. It'll be close to Pulitzer's, and you'll get a lot of business from the kids and teachers there, trust me. More than you'd get in the city, probably, what with the ridiculous amount of money these kids have."

"That's not a half-bad idea."

"I know, that's because I came up with it."

Spot rolls his eyes and tilts his head up, bringing his lips to mine. "I love you, Race."

I grin and kiss him back, thrilled to be able to do so and not feel dirty or secretive about it. I can love him now, openly, and no one can say a damned thing about it. "I love you, too, Spot."

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

A/N: And this installment of the AVTL series is, indeed, over. At least we have a happy ending for our dear Sprace. Thanks to everyone for your support, you have no idea how much I appreciate it. For those of you who have not read the rest of the series, I strongly recommend you do so. I'm really rather proud of it.

This story is dedicated to Frisky Wallabee, for being my drawing board and for helping me through writer's block, and to Rustie73, for the undying support (and slight obsession) and for the late-night entertainment and the FREAKING AMAZING Pie idea and for listening to me complain about Aaron Lohr's chest hair. Thanks, you two. -Layne