Disclaimer: My name is not Andrew Marlowe.

"my one, my only one,
lied twice to keep me on
gave chase and so we sung
everything that ends has still begun"

- James Vincent McMorrow, Hear the Noise That Moves So Soft and Low

He lays there thinking – thinking hard – with an empty place next to him in the bed, and everything feels so wrong, and this isn't how it was supposed to go.

This job interview wasn't supposed to happen. She wasn't supposed to think about leaving. They weren't supposed to fall apart like this.

This isn't how he wrote it in his head.

But now her side of the bed is cold and he can't help but leave that spot open even though he knows she won't be sleeping there tonight.

She may never sleep there again.

The thought crushes him, sears into his heart until he feels like he can't breathe. He's familiar with this kind of pain, has had it inflicted on him before by people like Meredith and Damian Westlake and Sophia Turner, but he never thought Kate would make him hurt like this.

Everything was going so well for them.

And then she had to go and shatter it.

But maybe, a voice inside him says, maybe this is your fault too.

The thought has plagued him since this whole ordeal began. Maybe he shouldn't have deflected her question when she asked him where they were going. Maybe he should have paid more attention.

He never should have taken her for granted.

And he doesn't know what hurts more: the fact that she doubts him or that he may have been the cause of that doubt – that he forced her to wonder.

If only he'd given her what she'd asked for that night and confessed the vision he has for the two of them – married, living in a brownstone big enough for two-point-five kids and a dog. He should have given her every detail, convinced her, made her believe in it too.

But he'd been scared. He hadn't wanted to overwhelm her and have her run. Again.

Look where that got him.

With two divorces under his belt, it had surprised him the morning he woke up and realized this was what he wanted. Seeing her next to him – the soft lines of her body, the barest hint of a smile on her face – the realization had washed over him like a wave: this was what he wanted to wake up to for the rest of his life.

He'd made her coffee that morning, given it to her with a rose yet again, and the smile and kiss he'd gotten in return had only made him resolute in his decision.

The idea of a third marriage no longer frightened him. His only fear now was that she was afraid, that despite all of her questions about where they were going, this wasn't what she wanted.

But he wants this. He does. And despite his mother's suggestion that deep down he feels this won't work out, he knows that it can. Despite the anger that still bubbles in the pit of his stomach towards what she did, he believes they can fix it. They have to. Because this relationship is one of the best things that has ever happened to him, and what they have is far too precious to let it go this easily, to not at least try.

So in that moment, lying alone in bed for the first time in days, he decides to do it.

He'll propose.

Because he never wants her to doubt what they have ever again, never wants her to think that he's not in this for the rest of his life, whether she goes to D.C. or not.

And he knows they'll have their fights and there will be moments where she'll shut him out, but he has enough faith that they'll be able to work through it.

All of those beautiful moments that they have together are worth it.

She's worth it.

His mind continues to ramble on for some time, still restless because she's not there. It's not until he rolls over to her side and buries his face in her pillow that his mind finally relaxes enough to let him sleep.

He dreams of Kate.

She's sitting on the edge of the bed, her nimble fingers playing up and down the sides of his face.

The smile she wears is radiant.

The rings she wears are even more.

Hey, sweetheart.

The pet name is new but he likes it, hums his agreement. She laughs, a quiet, lilting thing, and then smiles back down at him again.

I hate to wake you, but he wanted his daddy.

It's only then that he sees the baby cradled in her arms, so small, arms and legs moving at Kate's chest.

He sits up, heart in his throat, as she shifts the newborn into his arms. The same feeling he got when he first held Alexis strikes him to his core, the love he feels for the tiny human filling up his entire being.

The baby stares up at him with Kate's eyes, that beautiful blend of green and brown that never fails to grab ahold of his heart and squeeze. And when he looks up at her, so overwhelmed, she's staring back, eyes softer than he's ever seen them.

I love you.

He doesn't know who says it, but the words hang there – beautiful, promising, everything.

It's all he really needs.

He rushes out to buy her a ring the moment he wakes up. He doesn't even eat, just puts on clothes and leaves.

He prays she'll make his dreams come true.

A/N: So how about that finale, huh? September can't get here soon enough.
If you're waiting for an update on "Valentine's Day (Part II)" I promise, it's coming. I'm just currently locked in a battle with the dialogue. But it's getting there, so stay tuned.

tumblr: seeker15 dot tumblr dot com