A/N: I sound like a broken record, no doubt, but thank you again for the encouraging reviews. When people tell me they cried at something I wrote, I always feel this really bizarre mixture of flattery and remorse. I'm sorry? I'm grateful you stayed with me despite the heartache, and that you didn't hate me for the last chapter because I sort of hated myself at times, to be honest. LOL.

Last chapter! I had fun here, guys. Hope you did, too. Peace out.

Chapter Four: "Grown don't mean nothing to a mother. A child is a child. They get bigger, older, but grown? In my heart it don't mean a thing." – Toni Morrison

"Baby steps," Toby reminded her every time she felt overwhelmed, despondent or like she was going crazy. And gradually – sometimes in leaps and bounds, and sometimes agonizingly slowly – things got better.

He started by simply asking her to come on his morning runs with him. It seemed impossible at first, seeing as she hadn't left the house in months and the mere thought gave her crippling anxiety, but he convinced her by promising they'd just run around the block and then go back home. She trembled, panicked and nearly threw up, but she made it and he hugged her and it left her feeling like she'd actually accomplished something. It took her a few days to realize that the exercise did wonders for her confidence, and that getting up and putting workout clothes on gave her purpose without feeling like the task ahead of her was too daunting. The sunlight on her face soothed her and the exertion bumped up her appetite. Every morning it still scared her to step over the threshold of the front door, but Toby would offer his hand and his kind eyes convinced her again and again. It didn't take long for her to start craving longer runs, yearning for the energy boost and that sense of triumph she experienced afterwards. In these moments, she remembered what happiness felt like.

Facing the demons in her head was perhaps the most terrifying ordeal of her life – and that was saying something. Sitting across from a trained professional whose eyes bore into her and forced her to relive things she'd long repressed seemed inhumane at times. She dreaded the confrontation, the exhaustion, the betraying tears that came almost every time. The practice of having to bare her soul over and over again almost felt like a violation, and it was more than she'd bargained for. But steadily, the hill she had to climb over each and every session became smaller and flatter. The shame she felt lessened when he realized this woman wasn't there to judge her. One by one, the puzzle pieces fell into place. She came to realize many different issues had factored in to her illness, most of it unconscious on her part. Talking about it and looking deep into herself made her realize that it was likely a combination of the childhood trauma she'd never fully dealt with, and the fact that her own children were nearing the age where it all went wrong for her. The idea of them entering those terrifying teenage years where they stopped confiding in her and suffered in silence made her feel useless and out of control, along with the thought that anyone could harm them the way she'd been harmed and Toby had been harmed.

Her number one priority besides getting herself healthy again was rebuilding her relationships with the people she loved most in the world. Lucky for her, she had a husband who made it so easy for her to find him again. He was always there to offer tranquil support, whether that meant listening when she needed to get something off her chest or holding her during a difficult moment when her dark thoughts resurfaced and it felt like she hadn't made any progress at all. He drove her to all her therapy appointments for as long as driving still seemed like something she'd never do again because it caused her so much distress that she lacked the trust in herself to think she could handle it. Doing the simplest things with him, like cooking or gardening or cleaning the bathroom together, brought her unparalleled serenity and a sense of normalcy that made her kick herself for shutting him out for so long. Even though she understood now that it had been one of her methods for punishing herself, it took a long, long time for her to come to terms with the fact that her illness never would have escalated to the point that she could no longer see a happy future for her family as long as she was a part of it, if she'd just taken refuge in his very open arms from the beginning.

They slept in embraces so tight that she doubted she even needed blankets to keep her warm, and they kissed like teenagers. It almost felt like falling in love with him all over again, but then she would remember that she'd never actually fallen out of love with him in the first place, and it was actually falling in love with life all over again. He made her love life in a way that no one else could.

It wasn't until months of growing intimacy and dozens of therapy sessions had passed that she finally found herself wanting more than just those steamy, soulful kisses that made her toes curl. It happened after an ordinary day – which, by now, meant getting up and fixing breakfast, going on her run after Toby took the kids to school, going grocery shopping, heading to therapy, picking the kids up afterwards and getting started on dinner while waiting for Toby to get home. She didn't feel quite ready to return to work yet, but other than that she had a pretty good grasp on her life these days. It was hard to believe that only a few months ago she barely got out of bed.

She watched Toby in the bathroom, wearing only his boxers as he finished brushing his teeth and dried his face with a towel. She saw his muscles flex and felt that familiar twinge of desire in her lower belly, and unlike in the past few weeks she couldn't quench it down.

Her feet walked her up to him and her hands roamed across his bare upper body tentatively, her eyes following their journey. Her mouth came soon after, slowly pressing kisses against his chest, neck and shoulders. When her fingertips dipped beneath the waste line of is boxers, he suddenly moved his arms all the way around her and gently pulled her against his body.

"Are you sure?" he murmured into her hair. "We don't have to do this tonight. We don't have to until you're ready."

She smiled into his warm skin because not only did his words make her feel safe and loved, they also made her realize she wasn't alone. She wasn't the only one still fighting her demons, and maybe that was okay. He was a sexual abuse survivor and she was a trauma survivor and a drug addict, but maybe that didn't necessarily mean they were broken. Maybe it just made them more compassionate.

She lifted her head from his chest and brushed her lips across his jaw. "What you just said only makes me want you more."

His fingers tipped her face towards him so he could catch her eyes. He looked over every part of her, and Spencer's mind flashed back to when they were teenagers and first talked about sex. He had told her in no uncertain terms that it had absolutely no appeal to him if she didn't want it. Clearly, he still felt that way over two decades later.

Apparently satisfied, he lifted her off her feet and lazily walked them towards the bed. "We can stop anytime you want," he promised softly, laying her down and hovering over her. "Just say the word and we'll cuddle instead, okay?"

She lifted her head and caught his lips with hers. What came next was a blur of sloppy kisses and leisurely caresses that left her breathless. Their touches had a silky kind of timidity about them that hadn't been there since their very first time, but the trust between them prevented it from being awkward or hesitant or uncomfortable. He was the only lover she had ever known. He would always feel familiar to her – fifty years could go by where they didn't touch each other and she knew she'd still recognize him even with her eyes closed. The broad shoulders and strong arms and muscled stomach; the big hands and long fingers that could easily squeeze the life out of her if he decided to use his physical strength against her but had never been anything but soft and gentle. The full lips that connected with hers and with her neck and breasts and the inside of her thighs. The tender, encouraging whispers against her ear that her brain was too muddled to make sense out of but somehow still comforted her anyway.

It didn't go entirely the way it usually did. He came before her – undoubtedly the result of a dry spell that, if she was honest, she didn't even know how longevity of because she couldn't remember when the last time was that they did this. All she knew was that it was months and months ago, long before the worst of her illness ever hit.

Even though he made sure to finish her off, she could tell he was embarrassed.

"Sorry," he mumbled, making his way back up her body, and she reached for his head and pulled him to her.

"It's okay," she whispered, raking her fingers through his hair and kissing his forehead and his eyelids in the aftermath of passion.

"This wasn't the way I wanted our–"

"Toby," she interrupted in a low voice, wanting to reiterate just how much it did not matter. "It was perfect."

They folded together and lay in the quiet, allowing their heartbeats to come back down to normal. Her hand traveled his chest, his nipples, his stomach, his arms, his shoulders, his face, his hair and even his ears. Her voice was heavy when she asked, "Did you ever doubt it? How much I…" She swallowed. "How much I love you?"

It was a long time before he spoke, but when he did his answer was simple. "No. I knew it wasn't about that."

She wanted to tell him how he'd saved her – again. How if not for him, she wasn't sure she'd still be alive, but he didn't give her the chance. He smiled at her with adoration in his eyes and pressed his lips against hers. They would make love more than once that night, and in the morning Spencer longingly kissed him goodbye and wondered how both her mental health and her marriage had come out of this stronger than ever before.

When she first pulled out of the numb existence she'd banished herself into, she'd been almost certain that she'd damaged her relationship with her children forever. Even if they forgave for her for basically checking out for months on end, and even if they had the miraculous maturity to realize it was the result of a hereditary illness rather than laziness or lack of interest, she couldn't imagine they'd ever trust her again. In the beginning, she didn't even trust herself.

The kids came home from their vacation with Hanna and Caleb while Spencer was still at the starting point of her recovery. She'd hung back when Toby FaceTimed them every evening, her heart bleeding when she heard each of their voices from the next room but feeling unequipped and unprepared to face them. In a brave moment she'd asked Toby to show her a picture, and seeing their smiling faces with the lake in the background had brought an onslaught of tears that left her shattered. She honestly didn't know how she would react to seeing them in the flesh, and didn't know till the moment they walked through the door with Toby on their heels.

They were chattering amongst each other and telling their father random details about their holiday when they spotted her, Eloise first and then Lawrence and Cleo not long after. Their skin was tan and their hair was bleached from the sun. They were all half a foot taller than Spencer remembered, and it made her want to weep at the time she'd lost. She swallowed the lump in her throat as they hesitated, looking to their father for what to do.

"What are you waiting for?" His voice was mellow and he smiled with gentle encouragement. "Go give her a hug."

Lawrence shot into action first, nearly knocking Cleo over and throwing his arms around his mother with so much conviction that she stumbled backwards. The girls came running fractions of seconds later, and soon her arms were filled with the three little people she'd lay down her life for. They cried, she cried – it was a mess but it was the most beautiful mess she'd ever been a part of and she held her arm out to Toby because she wanted him be a part of it, too.

They had a long talk with their kids that same night, and Spencer was as honest with them as she could possibly be. "I'm still having a hard time," she admitted, hating the anguish in their faces, "but I promise that I'm doing everything I can to get better. I promise I'm never giving up, and I promise I'm not closing my door anymore because I miss you guys too much."

"But why did you do that?" Lawrence wanted to know, and she struggled to explain.

"I… I thought I was protecting you. I didn't want you seeing me like that. It had nothing to do with how much I love you," she added desperately, and when she saw Cleo look at Toby anxiously she added, "Or how much I love your father. It was a big mistake, I'm so sorry and I promise I'll never do it again."

She was prepared for the fact that her words probably sounded empty, and that her kids weren't going to believe her straight away. She was knocked off her socks when Lawrence came to her barely twenty-four hours later, gave her a big hug and said, "I love you, Mom. I'm glad you're back."

She clutched him to her, kissed his forehead and felt her heart turn into a puddle when he pulled back to give her one of those shit-eating grins that she could only associate with him. She couldn't grasp the concept that, with her son at least, it had all been so uncomplicated, and for quite a while she waited anxiously for the other shoe to drop.

It never did.

Eloise followed her like a shadow for a few days upon her return, always close but never close enough for Spencer to reach out to touch or kiss her. Not wanting to force her daughter into conversations she wasn't ready to have, Spencer only offered what she hoped were reassuring smiles but it wasn't very long before the exposed look in Eloise's eyes broke down her resolve.

"Did you want to ask me something, honey?" she finally questioned softly, while Toby was running an errand and the other two kids had opted to go with him.

Eloise shook her head vigorously, then rushed forward and collapsed in her mother's arms. "Mommy," she managed through her tears, and Spencer's eyes instantly watered, too.

It took her roughly three seconds to realize this child didn't want to talk. She wanted to be held. She wanted to be physically comforted, so Spencer sank down to the kitchen floor and rocked her almost twelve-year-old in her arms like a baby. Eloise would remain glued to her side for another few weeks, which was something Spencer selfishly didn't mind. If this was what she needed to heal then her mother would gladly offer cuddles and snuggles for as long as she would allow them, and when she started to regain her independence little by little Spencer knew it was for the best but she also found herself hopelessly missing her daughter's proximity.

Still, Lawrence and Eloise's acceptance had happened so much more smoothly than she anticipated, and with no resentment. When she felt they were ready, she took them each to a therapy session with her, just so they'd have a voice and a sanctuary if they wanted to share something they couldn't find the words for at home. Even though it was unspeakably difficult, she listened to what their lives had looked like during in months she'd been in bed. She was amazed at how articulate they were, feeling certain that at their age she was nowhere near as capable of expressing herself. Afterwards she took them each out for ice cream, and came home feeling like things would actually be alright and maybe she hadn't screwed them up for life after all.

Cleo was the one who remained closed off and distrusting. It wasn't anything too obvious – she certainly wasn't rude or blatantly ignored her mother or did anything that was purposely hurtful – but she never talked about what happened and seemed to want to avoid being alone with Spencer at all costs. She'd always been a Daddy's girl, but now she turned to her father for absolutely everything and even though Spencer understood her reasons and would never begrudge Toby his relationship with her, she couldn't pretend it didn't hurt. And as hard as it was for her, it seemed almost harder for Toby. He noticed the tension between his wife and daughter and, being Toby, desperately tried to fix it.

"You can't force her to get past something she's not ready to get past," she told him quietly, one evening when the kids were in bed. She was guessing he'd noticed how Cleo had kept her eyes closed when Spencer went to kiss her goodnight, even though she'd been wide awake barely a minute earlier when Toby went in.

"I just…" His shoulders slumped. "I don't understand why she's doing this."

"I do," she said, almost humorously, because that was the part that made this whole thing so ironic. "Trust doesn't come as easily to some of us. She needs time, Toby. Please don't rush her."

It got better as the weeks went by and summer vacation ended. Cleo asked her mother to curl her hair for the first day of middle school, and Spencer nearly cried with gratitude. She asked for advice on what classes to take and which clothes to wear. She no longer waited for Spencer to sit down first for movie night, just so she could dodge ending up next to her. She no longer tensed or made herself boneless like a ragdoll when her mother tried to hug her.

Yet, sometimes Spencer could still feel it, almost unnoticeably. That distance between them that never used to be there, and that she would never and could never accept as the norm.

It changed on a sunny Saturday in late September, when the two of them were in the back yard pulling out weeds. Spencer had discovered that mindless tasks like this helped keep her mind straight, and that the outdoors actually relieved her anxiety instead of adding to it. Toby was away with Lawrence at soccer practice, Eloise was inside curled up with a book, and Cleo had appeared seemingly out of nowhere and wordlessly started helping her mother in the garden. Spencer sensed there was a lot on her mind but she didn't push, and the two worked together side by side but mostly in silence.

"Am I going to get it?" Cleo suddenly asked in a small voice. "The sickness that makes people sad?"

Spencer's hands stopped moving and she took a second to collect herself before looking at her child. "Where's this coming from?"

"My whole life everyone's always told me I'm exactly like you," she struggled to reply, and there was a naked vulnerability in her eyes that touched her mother's every nerve.

"You are not limited to the things I've done, or the mistakes I've made. Your life is not constricted to what I've done with mine," Spencer told her, holding her gaze so there would be no misunderstandings. After that, her voice went softer. "Your personality is a lot like mine but that doesn't mean we're the same person."

"But will I get it?" she repeated, and Spencer swallowed. Hard.

"I don't know, baby," she confessed truthfully, thinking back to the nightmare-ridden little girl Cleo used to be. "I can't predict your future, and I'm not going to lie to you, okay? There's always a chance you might get it someday. There's also a chance your brother or sister might get it someday. It's not for sure so don't think you're predestined, but it's possible. But listen to me – listen," she repeated when she saw her daughter's eyes fill with tears. "It's really important that you know that if you do, it's not your fault."

It took saying it like that, point blank, for the truth of her words to sink in for herself. It took knowing how wholly and fully and unconditionally she'd want her children to forgive themselves for her to finally accept that she deserved forgiveness, too.

"And if you do, don't handle it like me, okay?" Spencer smiled ruefully through her blurry vision and brushed her fingers along her daughter's cheek. "Don't push away the people who want to show you the light at the end of the tunnel. Don't forget that you deserve to be loved. Because you do, and you are. Cleo Cavanaugh, you are so incredibly loved."

Cleo scooted closer, and her mother wrapped her arms around her as they both let a few tears fall. Spencer held her daughter tight, but she felt her heart swell as she realized that the last of her babies had come back to her. Maybe in a few weeks this one could join her in therapy, too, and share her concerns there. If there was anything Spencer had learned from this ordeal, it was that she and Toby needed to arm their children with as many tools as possible to voice their feelings in a healthy way.

"I'm so glad we had this talk, pumpkin," she said, causing Cleo to sit up and smile even though there was still a remaining tear in the corner of her eye.

"Mom," she complained with a slight eye roll. "I'm almost twelve. You can't call me that anymore."

And Spencer laughed despite the dagger in her heart. "Dream on. You'll always be my pumpkin."

"Fine," Cleo sighed, but Spencer could detect that underneath it all she was pleased to hear that. "Just… not at school, okay?"

"Deal," her mother agreed, pushing Cleo's dark hair behind her ears with both hands and feeling the lightest she had in almost a year.

By the time the kids turned thirteen and officially entered adolescence, Spencer was mentally stronger than she'd ever been in her life. She was still seeing her therapist once and week and didn't plan to give it up anytime soon, wanting to make her health a priority for her family's sake as well as her own. She and Toby were thick as thieves, and all three kids were excelling in middle school. She was back to work and back to thriving in her career. Bad days were a very rare occurrence now, and nothing a hug from Toby couldn't fix.

It was still scary for her to watch her kids grow older. Cleo got her period at thirteen, Eloise five months later, and Spencer and Toby both had to adjust to the fact that they were technically women now. It made her happy and sad at the same time, missing her little girls but so incredibly proud of the young adults they were turning into. Mostly, she was just grateful she was so longer in bed upstairs, missing these times with them and forcing Toby to take on the role of their mother. Which he'd done better than any man she knew, Spencer wholeheartedly admitted. But when her girls bled for the first time, she had never been more relieved that her husband wasn't on his own. She was thankful that their daughters weren't forced to go through it without her, and Spencer wouldn't have wanted to miss it for anything in the world.

Lawrence went through his voice change, and just like that he sounded like a man. Spencer played the video that she'd taken of him sitting in her car just a few weeks before, unashamedly singing along to the radio in his baby voice, over and over until it drove the whole family crazy. Fifteen years ago, she never would have thought she'd ever be that mom.

It wasn't long before high school was around the corner, and with it came a whole new set of worries. Sex, drugs, mind games, anonymous stalkers, predatory teachers – Spencer worried about all of it, but it didn't mess with her mental health the way it once might have. Worrying was normal, both Toby and her therapist assured her. Everyone did it. What mattered was how she dealt with it, and they both promised her she was handling it just fine.

She and Toby both kept their kids as close as they would allow it, talking to them about various issues and doing their best to keep the lines of communication open. It wasn't always easy when two out of the three kids were social butterflies who were never home and only their blond sister could be found in the house, usually by the fireplace with a book and a cup of tea or an apple – but they tried. They enforced the No Phone At The Table rule, ignoring their kids' slight grumblings and using it as a time every day to enjoy each other's companionship and to check in on their children's emotional wellbeing. They extensively discussed sex and consent with the kids, separately as well as together, emphasizing not only the importance of feeling ready for the right reasons, but also making sure their partner was equally ready and not putting any kind of pressure on them. Perhaps most importantly, they made it a point to be unconditionally supportive of any interests or hobbies their children chose for themselves.

Lawrence was quite the athlete. He was on half the sports teams in the school, juggled multiple AP classes per semester and still managed to get straight A's. How, Spencer didn't know, because she barely saw him open his books except over breakfast, looking over his notes while he shoveled his food into his mouth and making his mother shake her head in a bizarre mixture of amusement and dismay. Cleo followed in Spencer's footsteps. She was president of the debate team, which was more successful under her lead than it had been in a decade. She also played chess competitively and, though Spencer had never forced this, decided field hockey was her sport. Every semester, without fail, her parents would have to convince her to go for one less AP class than she had planned, always a little worried that her Hastings genes might kick in and she would spread herself too thin. Eloise was the star of the track team, though she cringed when anyone called her that (which her brother easily picked up on and mercilessly used to his advantage). She had long legs that were built for sprinting, and easily outran anyone in the county. She was one of the quiet artsy kids who gave most people a rude awakening when they learned of how many AP classes she took, and how knowledgeable she was when she felt comfortable enough to open her mouth.

With high school came romance, though Spencer was relieved to discover that her kids didn't seem all that prone to serious relationships the way she and her friends had been at that age. When they were sixteen it hit her that they were the very same age as she had been when she first walked up to Toby's doorstep all those years ago, and it silenced her for a while. She mentioned it to her husband as they lay in bed that night, and she could tell by his responding groan that the thought had occurred to him before, too.

"Don't remind me," he muttered, rubbing his face. "How did I never realize we were that young?"

She smiled ruefully at him and asked, "Am I a hypocrite for not wanting them to get involved so seriously when anyone right now?"

"If you are then I am, too," he told her without shame, reaching for her and pulling her against him in the dark.

Lawrence had a few steady girlfriends but none that stuck, and when Spencer ran into their mothers they always gushed about what a nice boy he was and how disappointed they were when he stopped coming around. Cleo dated boys, then dated girls, and then decided she liked both. Eloise seemed utterly uninterested in the dating scene at all, until she was a senior and finally noticed one of the many boys that came knocking at the door for her.

Spencer felt like she needed to pinch herself when she was touring college campuses. It seemed like only yesterday that she was wiping runny noses and picking up Duplo. When the kids had started kindergarten, she and Toby and opted to put them all in separate classes to stimulate their independence and connections with other children. It had taken her until Christmas to feel truly confident about their choice, mostly because separating Eloise from her sister had seemed like an unnecessarily harsh thing to do at times. But now, as she watched her three kids pick completely different colleges with different trivia and in different areas, it only affirmed they'd made the right call all those years ago. They were triplets – they'd shared a womb and a life and nearly all their milestones, and they had a bond that trumped anything Spencer had ever seen, but they were separate people. They would miss each other and likely regret their decision to go their separate ways more than once, especially the girls, but this time Spencer had no doubt that they would be better for it. She also had a very strong feeling they would come back together as full-grown adults in the end.

Cleo's school started first. She was excited, and both her parents knew she was eighteen going on thirty-eight and that she had been ready for this kind of freedom for years now. In a way it made things easier, but it didn't make it any less devastating.

"Don't push yourself too hard," Toby gently chastised her. "Remember to look at the birds from time to time."

"And don't be afraid to reach out if you need anything," Spencer added, rubbing her daughter's arm for extra emphasis. "Even if it's just to talk, or even if you feel like you messed up. Especially if you feel like you messed up. We're not as far away as you think."

When they walked away without their child and settled in the car, Toby turned to her with tears in his eyes and gruffly spoke the words that remained stuck in her own throat.

"I can't believe we're going to have to do that twice more this week."

She reached for his hand and didn't let go the whole way home.

Eloise was next, and Spencer was selfishly thankful that she wasn't the last to leave the nest because she didn't know how she would have coped. This child had always been her biggest source of worry, and this time was no different. She was eighteen now, but still crawled in bed with her parents on most Sunday mornings. She still sat on her father's lap from time to time, and didn't seem to mind when her mother kissed her in front of her friends and teachers on the school premises. It wasn't that Spencer didn't think she could handle being out on her own – it was that she was terrified that the cruel world that Eloise lived in would punish her lack of corruption.

"Can we FaceTime?" their daughter asked, looking around her new dorm room uncertainly.

"Yes," Spencer assured her without hesitation, fighting to keep the wide range of emotions out of her voice. "Every day, for as long as you want."

"And if you need a break from civilization just let me know and I'll come up to get you for the weekend, okay?" Toby chimed in.

"Dad, it's a three hour drive," she told him, like he didn't already know.

"Doesn't matter," he promised, kissing her forehead before repeating, "Just let me know."

Deep down, Spencer knew that Eloise would adjust better than she thought and better than her parents expected. History had already proven her more than capable. Her parents had worried for all her transitions: preschool, kindergarten, first grade, middle school and high school. All of it, and she had surprised them every time. So, as much as it destroyed Spencer to leave behind a kid that didn't really want to be left behind, she knew her child and she knew in her gut that Eloise would find her place here just like she always had before.

Lawrence was last, which made him the hardest to leave behind by default, but also, in a way, the easiest. Within an hour of arriving in his building, he knew everyone by name and was joking around with them like they'd been friends his entire life.

"You're not going to miss us at all, are you?" Spencer said disapprovingly, only half joking. He laughed.

"Sure I am," he promised her, throwing an arm around each of his parents and pulling them both in for a bear hug. "You guys are the best parents in the world."

They hardly felt like the best parents in the world that night as they sat on their couch and got really drunk. And it was not a happy kind of drunk. She rested her head against her husband's chest, his fingers toying with her hair and generously pouring red wine as soon as either of their glasses even threatened to run out. It scared her how quiet the house was when they didn't exchange words.

They woke up the next day with searing headaches, and cursed themselves since they both had work. Toby offered to make them coffee and omelets, and she nodded appreciatively as she swallowed down some Aspirin. He was at the stove when she entered the kitchen, her hair done her and her outfit spotless even though she still felt like her scull had only barely survived a train wreck. Absentmindedly she started setting the table, only to freeze halfway when she realized what she was doing.

She'd set out five plates and five glasses, and had placed down two knives and was holding three more in her hand.

She looked at Toby in confused disruption and he offered her a sad, sympathetic smile when he saw the table. They had gone from being a family of two to a family of five literally overnight without any major transitional issues, even with her being so skeptical about the whole thing – so how was it that switching back to a family of two was infinitely and boundlessly more difficult?

They shared a quiet breakfast together, and Spencer had to admit it was nice. She covered his hand with hers as they quietly sipped their coffee, taking the time to just sit back and adjust to the idea that it was just the two of them now. And as Spencer looked into her husband's beautiful aging face and still brilliantly blue eyes, it occurred to her that the company she was left with could be a lot worse.

"I made reservations for tonight at that Italian place you like," he told her. "And I thought maybe this weekend we could drive down to the lake? We're finally alone after eighteen years, we need to make the most of it."

Spencer laughed in spite of herself. "That's one way to look at it," she conceded, still smiling at him from across the table. One of her very favorite things about Toby was that he didn't wallow in his misery the way she did.

He left for work earlier than her today, and came to her as she finished up in the kitchen.

"Have a good day, okay?" he said softly, grazing her jaw with his fingertips. She smiled and nodded, reaching up to hold his wrist and stroke the back of his hand with her thumb.

He kissed her, and it was one of those full body kisses that took her back thirty years to when they were young and the world was at their feet. Their kiss evolved into a hug the way it usually did, and as she clung to him the thought struck her that, yes, her children were gone. She and Toby could never go back to being a family of two because that wasn't the way the universe worked. Their kids were a part of them. They always would be, and they would probably always miss them ferociously.

But the foundation of their family was still here in this embrace, the two of them entwined. Their kids would spread their wings, as they should, but Toby would always be with her.

"I love you," she murmured, kissing his chin, "and I'll miss you all day."

He smiled, brushing their noses together in that way that still made her stomach flutter. "Same."

Her eyes didn't leave him until he was through the door and out of sight, and she found herself looking forward to tonight and to the weekend.