You pace anxiously, not really sure what you're getting in to. It was your job to be the mess. He was the one who had it together. He was totally fucking smug about it, too. He paraded his life around you constantly. His beautiful wife and perfect children and horses and football and collection of houses and... you tried not to care, but it should have been yours. All of it should have been yours, and you watch him enjoy it with someone he's only with because you made him go away.
Is it actually his fault or are you responsible for this mess? No, it's definitely him. He's the one that got her pregnant. He's the one that fucked someone else in the first place. If only the two of you hadn't taken so long to sort your shit out...
Where the hell was he? You're about half a glass away from drunk and you're losing patience. You glance in the mirror again, running your fingers through your hair. You're still made up from the show, and wearing leggings and an oversized sweater that hangs off your shoulders. Somewhat satisfied with what you see you pick up your wine again and walk over to the window, staring at the city below you. You love the UK. Maybe you could escape here for a while. Come stay with Christine and...
Just as you get lost in your thoughts he pounds on the door and startles you. You cross the room and open the door, looking at him expectantly. "I didn't think 'later' meant 3am."
"I had some things to deal with," he said pushing past you. "I'm sorry I was a dick," he begins, and you shut the door quickly. You've still got to be guarded about your alone time with him.
"I'm tired of being treated like shit. I'm too old for this."
"You don't deserve it," he says, approaching you and tucking your hair behind your ear. "This isn't about you."
"Then what's it about, Lindsey? Because what you did last night..." You pull away a little. You can't let him touch you.
"I know, I know. I apologized. I don't take rejection well," he says sheepishly.
"What the hell did you think would happen?"
He shrugs, looking at his feet. "I don't think I got that far. I wanted you too much."
"You can't want me."
"You want me," he says. You don't deny it.
"I didn't try to fuck you and then go down on you without finishing."
"Can you not lecture me?"
"Tell me what's going on," you insist, leaning against the wall.
He looks at you for a minute, and you realize you've never seen him like this. He didn't fall apart like you did. "Stella's sick."
"What? How sick?"
"We're not sure. It's been a few months and they can't figure it out. But it's not good. Her body is shutting down."
"A few months? Why would you not tell us?"
"Because I'm already feeling like a douche for being gone so much. I'd prefer to avoid judgement from all of you."
"I'm not going to judge you," you say helplessly.
"She got sick at the end of the U.S. leg. I didn't think it was serious. She went into the hospital right after I got back and hasn't left. Something with her lungs..."
"Oh, Lindsey. I'm so sorry."
"Kristen and I were already on the outs but this destroyed whatever we had left. She threw me out when we left for Europe. She was already seeing someone, I think. Will told me he's there all the time now."
"So that's where you've been going every off day," you say sadly.
"My baby is sick. If I have to fly from London to Los Angeles to spent a few hours with her I'll do it."
"I'm so sorry," you say again.
"I wanted to tell you. When I got back this week I thought maybe it would be nice to just see you. Which is why I asked you to that party. Then I got back to some nasty messages and fought with her for an hour."
That explains his mood shift last night. When Lindsey's pissed he wants to break something or fuck something. Breaking something must have sounded like less fun. "So what happens now?"
"Everything keeps falling apart, I guess."
"When are you going back?"
"We have three days after Amsterdam. I'll go spend them will Stella."
"Do you want me to come?"
"You'd do that?"
"Of course."
"Thanks, Stevie." He doesn't actually accept your offer, but he gives you a smile and your heart jumps into your throat.
"So you're.. are you and Kristen..." You stutter a little, not really sure what you're even asking.
"She served me papers. We're splitting. But it's going to be a drawn out ordeal. Our pre-nup is a mess and she's trying to prove I'm cheating on her."
"What?"
"If I am she gets to clean me out."
"But you're not."
"Of course I'm not."
"So last night..."
"Would have been an awful idea for a lot of reasons." Somehow, those words feel like daggers, but you try to tell yourself that you understand. You just nod, waiting for him to say something. He collapses into the couch and stares at you for a minute. "Stevie, you're like a drug for me. You're an addiction. You're the first place I go when I want things to be better."
"I know that feeling." God, do you know that feeling. You take a tentative step toward him and he grabs your hand, pulling you onto his lap. His embrace swallows you and you let him hold you, his head resting on your chest. You don't move for a long time, ignoring your body's reaction to his hot breath on your cleavage. His hands roam a little over your hips and ass and you pretend not to notice, playing with his curls to occupy your own hands. He plants a soft, wet kiss on the top of your right breast and you inhale sharply at the contact. "No, Lindsey." How are you suddenly so strong? The last thing you want is to say no. He's all you've thought about lately. You know that the timing is wrong, though. There's too much at stake.
He ignores you and kisses you deeply, laying you out on the couch and climbing on top of you. You involuntarily writhe against him, and he slides his hand into your leggings. Shit. Maybe you aren't this strong. "Just let me see you come."
"Lindsey," you protest, but it's weak. His fingers are already sliding easily into you, causing you to buck against his hand. His palm grinds against you as his fingers plunge in and out of you, and you can actually hear how wet you are right now. He sucks at your neck while he fucks you with his hand, speeding up as your moans get louder.
"Come, baby. Come for me." You arch your back, letting your orgasm rip through you, biting at his lips. He rides it out, touching you until you stop convulsing in his arms. He removes his hand and you hear yourself whimper as the loss of contact. He grips the side of your face and smiles down at you, kissing you again. "Sorry about last night."
He rises up off of you and gets to his feet, and you sit up quickly. "Where are you going?"
"I'll see you tomorrow, baby." With that, he leaves you on the couch. You cover your face with a pillow and let out a frustrated scream, still not sure what just happened.
