I was driving home from work a few weeks back and was thinking about Addison not being shown at Derek's funeral, which never sat quite right with me. I've heard other fans say the same thing. Addison would've been there. And I believe, Addison would've been one of the few people in the world who understood Meredith's loss. This one-shot is meant to show Meredith's healing process with Addison's help.

I am alone for the first time in days. My children are sleeping and the house is quiet. I'm used to the quiet house. If I close my eyes and forget, I can trick Derek back into existence. I can pretend he's in D.C. saving the world or the future of medicine or whatever. I can do that. But I'm afraid for the moment I can't forget. I'm afraid for two weeks from now, or a month, or a year, when I realize my husband will never kiss me again. He will never hold one of our children. He will never give me that smile—the one created for me. I like to think he never smiled like that until he met me.

My husband is dead and my house is quiet.

I walk outside, carrying a baby monitor and a glass of water, and take a seat in one of the two Adirondack chairs Derek had built for us. I remember he spent so much money on these chairs and I tried to talk him out of it, but he was so excited and he said we'd use them all the time. I was doubtful.

"We're doctors. We will never be around to sit in a thousand dollar chairs."

Derek walked around me to set his coffee mug in the sink. "We're always around at night, which is the perfect time to have a drink, stare at the stars, and discuss the moments of our lives."

I rolled my eyes at him. "We have babies and laundry and dinner to make."

Derek wrapped his arm around my waist and splayed his fingers across my stomach. He kissed the back of my head. "Laundry is mostly a waiting game."

"True," I relented just a bit.

"I'm buying those chairs and you're going to love them," he said into my ear before stepping away from me, grabbing his keys, and heading off to work.

I run my hands along the smooth armchair. I'm sitting in Derek's chair and I can picture him beside me. He was right; we did sit in these chairs almost every night, even when it rained. Especially when it rained. We'd pull the chairs back against the house, beneath the three foot lip of the roof and we'd watch the rain come pouring down. Sometimes we'd say nothing for hours and other times all we'd do was talk. We had some of our most important conversations in these chairs.

"Public school, right?" he had asked.

Derek had attended public school his whole life and I'd been in private school until high school.

"Yes, definitely. And we won't push either of them into anything they don't want to do. If Bailey hates football and would rather paint, we'll buy him an easel."

"But if he does want to play football, you can't freak out about him getting hurt."

I gave Derek a look. "I think you're forgetting which one of us is the helicopter parent."

Derek grinned at me. "Fine. But can I at least hope he picks baseball over football? I at least follow baseball. I know nothing about football."

"I'm going to hope he wants you to attend his games because I will be too busy having no idea what's going on the whole time."

Derek laughed. "I'll teach you."

I nodded. "Deal."

I hate these stupid chairs. I hate this stupid house. Every single corner of this place has a memory of Derek. I can still smell him when I walk into his closet. His shampoo is still in the shower and his shoes are still lying haphazardly near his side of the bed. He has an unfinished book flipped upside down on the night stand and a new box of Muesli is waiting for him in the cabinet. He is everywhere and right now, he can't be everywhere.

All I need is some time. A vacation. Maybe the kids and I will go back to Switzerland with Cristina. Her plane leaves in the morning, but I'm sure I can find a flight. I just need a week or two away. Maybe—

A car pulls into the driveway and immediately I want to retreat inside and pretend I'm sleeping. I can't listen to anyone else tell me how sorry they are or how wonderful Derek was. I hate talking about him in the past tense. He's still my husband, alive or dead. But the headlights shine across my face and whoever is visiting knows I'm sitting here. I don't recognize the car, so the last hope that maybe it's Alex washes away. I can only really handle Cristina or Alex right now.

Addison steps out of the car. She doesn't walk towards me. She just stands next to the open door. We share a look. She used to feel so much bigger to me than she really was. When she first showed up, she felt massive to me. And not physically, but just her presence in my life pushed nearly everything away. She was Addison, the woman who created turmoil in my relationship with Derek. For years I was the bad guy in her narrative, but she was the bad guy in mine, too.

But years have soften both of us and staring at her now, I believe she might be the only person in the world who understands what I'm going through.

"Do you want a drink?" I ask her.

Addison shuts the car door. "Do you have any of Derek's scotch? His fancy kind? I don't know if he still drinks it or keeps it in the house, but—"

"We have some," I nod. "Take a seat."

I walk into the house and pour out a hefty drink. I glance over my shoulder and Addison is admiring the house, looking up along the tall windows and lofty facade. She takes a seat in my chair. I walk back outside and hand her the glass. "I think he changed the brand a few years ago, but this is still fancy scotch."

Addison sniffs the top of the glass. "I hate scotch," she says.

"So you're having a glass in solidarity?"

"No, in memory," she says and takes a sip. She glances over at my water. "Aren't you having any?"

Why lie? It's my new mantra. "No. I can't. I'm pregnant."

Addison looks over at me. "You're—"

I nod. "Let's not make it a big thing."

"Okay," she says, but I can tell she wants to ask more or maybe comfort me. She is an obstetrician and she would be the person to speak to, but I don't have anything to say.

I change the subject. "I'm happy you were here today. Derek would've been happy."

"I wish I'd made more time to see him…before."

Everyone thinks that. Everyone says that. "He knew you loved him."

I've always sort of hated Addison. I hated her worse after I realized she wasn't the devil. In fact, I came to like her later on, back when I first was finally secure with Derek. Right before the Post-It wedding. She visited and I liked her. I imagine we could've been friends if everything had been different.

But despite my initial hatred of the women sitting to my right, I'm fully aware that she's hurting right now, too. She might not have had the last nine years with Derek and she didn't have children with him, but she had a lifetime with him before I showed up.

"He loved you, too," I tell her, offering some kindness.

I watch Addison's face break and I look away.

In the distance, tree frogs sing. It's spring; their mating season, so the tree frogs sing loudly. Even from a young age, Zola has loved this time of year.

I found Derek holding Zola in the yard. It was past her bedtime, but she was alert, which annoyed me to no end. She would be impossible to put down. I'd already read her three stories and I'd have to read her even more. I probably wouldn't get to sleep until late, which would mean tomorrow would be a long, hard day. I stomped out towards Derek, ready to yell, but I stopped shy of them.

"Noise," Zola said.

"Tree frogs," Derek said quietly. I could barely hear him.

"Why noise?" Zola asked.

Derek smiled. I thought he'd only reserved a smile for me, but he had one for Zola, too. It was the smile I saw the first time he held her. We'd missed a wedding because of that smile. I'm sure I would've agreed to miss a lot more just to see him smile like that.

"The frogs are calling to each other. The daddy frogs want to find a mommy frog so they can find a baby frog together. Like mommy and me."

"You found me?" she asked.

Derek rested his forehead against Zola's. "You found us," he whispers to her.

"Meredith," Addison begins, effectively pulling me from my memory. I want nothing more than to fall back in and remember the moment Derek realized I was standing behind them. He looked guilty at first and then he smiled at me. He pulled me close and said, "My girls." My heart melted for him.

I shake away the thought. "If you're going to tell me you're sorry for my loss—"

"I'm not," Addison says. "I wasn't planning on it. You know I'm sorry."

I look over at her. "Sorry," I say somewhat ironically.

Addison nods. "I just wanted to tell you I never thought I'd see this day."

"The day Derek would be…" I don't finish the sentence.

"No. No. Not that. I meant this," she motions to the dream house. "When I came back from LA and you and Derek were broken up—do you remember that?"

"I do."

"I thought you'd never make it work."

I can't help but laugh. "Well thanks." I don't feel slighted though or angry. I'm just glad someone finally admitted they never thought we'd work. Back then, I figured it was a losing battle.

Addison takes a sip of scotch. "I'm not trying to be insensitive."

"I know," I say honestly.

"I thought you'd have some will-they-or-won't-they relationship. I thought my coming to Seattle had ruined everything to the point you'd no longer be able to trust Derek and that'd be it. When Derek told me you'd gotten married, even if it was just on a Post-It," she smiles and shakes her head. "I was happy for you both, but also jealous."

I look quickly in Addison's direction. "You were jealous?"

"Don't act like it's impossible. And it's not like I wanted to be with Derek, but I was jealous that he'd never loved me like that."

"I don't think—"

"It's not a bad thing," she interrupts. "Derek didn't love you like he loved me either. It's just part of it. What I'm trying to say, and not doing a great job of, is that you made him happy and having children with him…well, that's all he wanted."

I look across the yard where Zola's bike lies in the grass along with a soccer ball, one of her dolls, and some of Bailey's soft toys. I should go pick them up, but it's something Derek always does. He always spent time running around the yard with the kids. He wanted to get Bailey a bike in the coming year even though he's barely two. I had nightmares of Bailey falling off and hitting his head on a rock or comically rolling down a hill into the pond, which wouldn't be so comical.

Derek was always good at the outdoor stuff.

"What is that?" I ask Derek while I stand in the kitchen eating ice cream out of the container.

He proudly holds up a pink fishing pole. "It's for Zola. She wants to go fishing with me."

I talk through a huge spoonful of strawberry ice cream. "Derek, Zola thinks fishing is that little game you two play with the plastic fish opening and closing their mouths on a rotating disk. To her, fish are not living things you're going to kill."

"We won't kill anything. We'll just hook them and send them back in. It's more about the experience."

I run my hand over my stomach as our son gently turns inside me. He's always more active when Derek's around. "The experience," I repeat.

Derek sets down the fishing pole and walks over to me, taking the spoon from the ice cream. "Do we have coffee flavored?" he asks and then takes a big bite.

I steal the spoon back. "You ate it all."

He frowns. "How's he doing?" he asks and runs his hand over my stomach.

"Restless. He's ready to come out. I'm ready for him to come out."

Derek leans forward and kisses my forehead. "Did I tell you today you look beautiful?"

"No. You didn't."

He steps back. "My mistake." He begins to walk away.

"Derek!"

Derek turns and smiles at me. "I'm going to go show Zola her fishing pole." He picks it up and walks across the living room, stepping over a stuffed pig, some blocks, and three books. I take another bite of ice cream. Derek stops in the doorway and says over his shoulder, "You always look beautiful, but especially today."

"I didn't want kids," I tell Addison.

She looks over at me. "You didn't?"

I shake my head. "No. Not in the beginning and not even when things finally got good. I knew Derek would be a good father, but I thought I'd be a terrible mother. Like my mother. Distant, career-driven. I didn't think I could do it all."

"But you are," Addison says.

"I'm making it work."

"I think we as women are often working off the idea that a mom needs to pack nutritious lunches and go to every concert and be home to help with homework. That's one version, but we've seen women be all kinds of mothers. Look at Miranda or Callie and Arizona. They're surgeons and great moms. You're not just making it work, Meredith. You're holding it together. You're keeping them safe."

I glance over at Addison, overcome by her kindness. I know I'm doing my best, but it's good to hear, especially from an outsider. "Thank you."

Addison smiles and takes a small sip of her drink. "You're welcome." She looks down at my stomach and I know she's going to bring up baby number three. "If you wanted to talk about—"

"I'm okay."

She nods, but looks suspicious. "Okay."

I sigh. "I'm about two weeks along. It's very early, so who knows with my track record." She looks over at me. "I had a miscarriage a few years ago and I have a hostile uterus." I should be embarrassed to be so open with Addison, but at this point she's probably heard it all. Plus, even if we were on opposite sides a lot of the time, we've been through a lot.

"Have you seen an OBGYN?"

"Not yet, but I have an appointment for next week."

"Will you keep me posted?" she asks.

I consider the idea of updating Addison on my pregnancy with her ex-husband, who is now dead, and it sounds ridiculous. But it also sounds right. "Sure. I don't think I have your number." Derek was always the keeper of Addison's phone number. "Why don't you text me?"

Addison pulls out her phone and I give her my number.

For a long while after that, we sit in silence. At one point I hear Bailey on the baby monitor and we both turn our attention, but he quiets down and goes back to sleep. He hasn't been sleeping through the night since Derek left a few months ago and even less since he returned and then never came back. Zola doesn't seem so affected. Not yet at least.

Addison finishes her drink and cradles the glass for a few minutes. She sets down the glass on the table and we share a look. I know she's hurting just like I'm hurting. I feel the tears start to burn behind my eyes and I look away. Addison looks away, too.

"I should probably be going," she says.

"Where are you staying?"

"I'm actually flying back tonight."

"It's late."

Addison nods. "I need to get home. I need to not be here."

"Yeah, I'm beginning to feel the same way."

"If you ever wanted to get away…" she says casually—it's an invitation while not really being an invitation. Addison and I might've found some common ground, but we're still not exactly friends.

I nod. "Thank you."

Addison stands and walks across the porch and down the stairs. I should be winding down for bed, but I can't think of anything I want to do more than just sit here all night.

Just before she reaches her car, Addison stops and turns to me. "When did Derek tell you he first loved you?"

The question feels like it's coming from right field and I'm thrown off. When Derek told me, he was still with Addison and we'd just slept together again. It was a messy time and a painful time for Addison. Derek telling me he loved me was the beginning of the end for their marriage. But for some reason, I feel like Addison already knows when he said it. "The day after prom. The day I was home with Izzie after Denny." My answers feel like half answers, but I don't have to fill in the details. She remembers.

She nods. "That makes sense."

"Why do you ask?"

Addison looks up to the sky for a second and I wonder if she's just taking a second to herself or if she's taking a second with Derek. I haven't looked to the sky to call on Derek. I'm afraid to because if I do, I'm admitting that he's really gone.

"We met at Joe's around Christmas time that year." The year, is more like it. So much happened during my intern year. "I was trying to pick out Christmas gifts for his family. I wanted really good gifts to make up for the fact that I'd been a bad wife. Derek sat down and I knew something was off. Something had been off since the moment I showed up in Seattle.

"I asked him what was wrong and Derek told me he didn't want to hurt me. He said he wasn't reconsidering his choice of me over you, but he told me he loved you. At Christmas, he told me."

I feel a pinching in my stomach. Derek told me he'd loved me forever, but knowing he admitted it months earlier to his wife at the time makes me feel…something. Not sadness or anger, but just…something. "I didn't know," I tell her.

Addison nods. "I expected not. He wasn't always good with sharing important information."

"No," I agree. "He wasn't." I shake my head. "I hate talking about him in the past tense."

"Me too," she agrees.

I realize I need to be alone because I'm about to start crying. I stand. I don't want to be rude, but I need Addison to get going. "I've kept you for too long," I say. "You'll miss your flight."

"I could stay," she says, obviously just trying to be nice. "If you needed me to."

"No. I'm fine." I clutch my water glass to my chest. "I'm fine."

"You don't have to be fine, Meredith."

I know I don't have to be fine and I'm not fine. Everything is falling apart. My husband is dead, my children no longer have a father, and I am pregnant with a third child who will never know his or her father. I'm a single parent. I'm a widow. And I live in the House that Derek Built. The Dream House. I'm not fine.

Addison walks closer, standing just a few feet from me on the front walkway. "Can I do something or can I call someone? I think—"

"If you wanted to stay," I begin, not really knowing where I'm going with this. "I mean, if you didn't mind…"

For a moment Addison says nothing. She just stares at me and I wonder if she still sees me as the other woman. I'd like to think we're both past that, especially since I created a life with Derek, but I don't know what she sees when she looks at me. Finally, Addison says, "Do you have something other than scotch? I drank the one for Derek, but it's awful."

With that I smile. "It is awful. I have wine."

"Wine would be perfect."

"So you and Addison are…friends now?" Derek puts the toothbrush back in his mouth and vigorously brushes his teeth. The dentist told him he brushes too hard, but Derek never listens.

I rub lotion on my elbows while sitting on the edge of our bed. "We just get each other right now."

Derek spits and rinses his mouth. He stands in the doorway. He's wearing my favorite Bowdoin College t-shirt. "I don't know how I feel about my ex-wife and my wife being friends."

"She's the only one who understands."

Derek walks across the bedroom and sits down next to me. "Richard gets it."

"Richard had Adele for decades. I only had you for a few years."

"We had a good decade," Derek says.

I take his hand. He feels so real. "I can't talk to Richard about it."

"What about Izzie? She lost Denny. Have you tried to contact her?"

"I called her old number, but it was no longer in use. I called her mom's old number, but a machine picked up with someone else's recorded message. I left a message about you being gone, but I don't think it was the right person. Plus, Izzie wasn't married to Denny. They didn't have three children together."

Derek looks down at my stomach. "Three," he repeats.

"I'll be okay," I tell him because the look in his eyes is panicked.

Derek looks up at me. "I know. You're strong and capable. You have a support system here. Alex and Amelia and Maggie. They're here for you. I just wish I could be, too."

I lean forward and press my forehead to Derek's. "You are here."

I wake up from my dream in my dark, quiet bedroom. The bed is still empty beside me and Derek's shampoo is still in the shower. His shoes are haphazard and if I take a deep breath in his closet, I can still smell him. But he's gone. However, for the first time in days, I'm hopeful. I'm sad, but hopeful. Derek once told me, when we were first discussing kids, that if something happened to him, he wouldn't want me to be alone.

I'm not alone.

I touch my stomach and I was right; Derek is still here.