Sofia has given up screaming at me but now she's crying, and after almost an hour of all this I feel the barely contained tears start to leak from my own eyes as I lean back against her bedroom wall. I swipe at them hastily and run a hand through my hair, tugging in frustration. The damn braids. Why can't I learn to do the damn French braids in my daughter's hair?

"Sofia..." I look over at the wailing child on the bed and try again cautiously, "Sofia, come on, it's alright. Mama can do braids for you on the weekend."

"I want bwaids NOW!" she wails, looking up at me tearily again. No longer in tantrum mode, now she's just full on upset.

"Ok but Sof...Mama isn't here, you know that. Now come on, we have to get ready."

Glancing at my watch, I know that we're already going to be late. Again. And that damn preschool teacher is going to give me attitude about it, again.

I settle on my daughter's bed and sit her up, grabbing the brush to do something with her mane of dark hair.

"NO!"

She wrestles away, her almost four year old body surprisingly quick, and lets out a heart-wrenching sob as she grabs her stuffed dino.

"I want bwaid!"

I'm about to outright scold her but then I meet her eyes and the tears are flowing freely now, her lip quivering slightly.

"I want mama," she sniffles, burying her little face into the soft purple dino that's been her favourite from the minute she came home. I sigh at the memory; the minute Arizona bought it for her at the hospital gift shop.

"I want mama too, baby."

The words slip out on a breath, and I'm not even entirely aware I've said them as I wipe at the tears on my own cheeks. But they're true. A small sob escapes my lips and I try to choke back the tears. I do want her. I miss her. As much as I thought this was better for me – for us – if I'm honest with myself, the last few months without her have been worse than anything we dealt with before. And it's not about Sofia, it's not just about the damn braids, it's...everything.

I fumble my phone from my pocket and swipe it open, dialing the only phone number I actually know by heart, wiping my cheeks as it rings just a few times.

"Callie? Hey."

I pause slightly at her voice, but as Sofia sobs and tries to grab for the phone as if she instinctually knows who's on the other side, I snap out of my thoughts.

"Callie?" Her voice sounds again, concern laced in her tone, "Callie, is that Sofia? What's wrong?"

I half laugh, half sob, wiping at my tears as I wrap an arm around our daughter. God, I've been such a fool. We're both such fools.

"What isn't wrong? Arizona, will you come home?"

I hear her shift on the other end of the line, her voice immediately carrying a more panicked tone.

"Is Sofia hurt? Are you? What happened? I'll be right over."

"No, Arizona..." I let out a slight breath, sniffling again, "just...come home. We need to..." I smooth hair back from the small face peering up at me, and god, I know it's not possible, I know, but – the way her big brown eyes look at me, and the way she smiles shyly despite her tears, two dimples appearing in her little cheeks, the way she tucks her bangs aside – it's so...Arizona.

"Callie?"

"We need to fix things. I do miss you enough. I miss you so much. I want to start again."

She makes a small sound, and a long, silent minute passes over the phone.

"Calliope..." her voice is barely a whisper in my ear, and she sounds like she's started crying. I tug Sofia closer, and press my own tear-stained cheek to her soft hair. I wasn't sure this would ever happen. I didn't know anymore if we were really meant to be. But suddenly I've realized that no matter how many things we've been through, and fought over; despite the hurts we've inflicted on each other over the past few years...I just want her beside me. I don't need her, and I don't think she really needs me. But I want her. I choose her, and I always will.

"I love you, Arizona. And I'm sorry. We're so not over."