The End

Chapter 32: His End Game

"Would you have left Jill if you didn't get caught?"  Patrick woke in a sweat. His time oversees was coming to an end. They had gone back and forth about what was going to come next. Both waffling between not wanting to waste any more time apart and letting things unfold naturally. Ellen often settled on the side of not pushing their luck. But part of him wondered if this was the reason why. 

He sighed heavily and reached for his phone. Her voice echoed through his head as he rubbed his eyes awake. In some ways he wondered if she still didn't believe he'd choose her in the daylight. Sure, caught in the beam of the spotlight, he would have done anything for her. He had given her the chance to stay on the show. But he'd also took the easy way out. Keeping what they had in secret. 

Would you have left Jill if you didn't get caught?  The truth was still the same, he wasn't sure if he would have. And though the time they'd lost since she showed up at his door to break things off was far too much, he knew they'd gained a lot too. He'd gained a chance to raise his kids in a home that wasn't broken. She grew her family, proved herself in her career.  

They'd gained things they wouldn't trade but he wasn't willing to risk losing her again. Not this time. Life was moving too quickly. He wouldn't wait to get caught. 

Patrick stood in front of the sharply modern home. It screamed new money though he knew hers was old. The metal of her gate buzzer cold as he pressed it with his index finger. 

"Hello," a women's voice called out to him

"Hi," he cleared his throat, "Ms. Goldwyn." his McDreaminess giving him away.  "I'm sorry to bother you at home. I was told you wanted to meet and I couldn't wait any longer. Your assistant said you would be here... I'd really like to talk to you."

Charlotte Goldwyn was the rightful heir to Goldwyn and Associates the firm that had handled countless Hollywood scandals. Including his. He'd spent many years working privately with her father. Only to end up far from what he'd wanted. But Charlotte was different. He was sure of that. Especially considering Arthur had willed the family business to his son. A twenty-something artist without a law degree. 

"I'll buzz you in," Charlotte Goldwyn answered quickly. 

Patrick opened the gate and headed up the sidewalk to her door. Charlotte opened her front door to him. She stood in her pink blazer and light wash jeans. Her brown eyes meeting his. Charlotte was prettier than he expected but she carried herself like Arthur. Strong, sure of herself. 

"Mr. Dempsey," she extended her hand to meet his. He shook it willingly. 

"Please," he answered, "It's Patrick."

"Ok, Patrick," Charlotte gestured toward her office. "Have a seat. Can I get you something to drink?"

"No, thank you," He smiled kindly but felt eager, "I'll cut to the chase. Your father helped me handle a situation with Ellen Pompeo several years ago."

"I read your file," Charlotte responded smoothly.

"Right," he nodded, "Well, I read the way Gillian and David were handled in the press. Which I can only assume was your doing."

"I can't discuss clients," A smile pulled at her lips. 

"Ah," Patrick nodded, "but you just took credit without discussing anything." Patrick shook his head, "Your father was a brilliant man..."

"But he did things his way." Charlotte cut him off before he continued, "whether you agreed with his choices or not." 

"Yes," Patrick agreed, "He wasn't a great listener."

"No," Charlotte smiled with a shrug, "He wasn't."

Patrick sunk deeper into his own thoughts. Memories playing like a film reel of old movies. Drowning in the lost time, "You wanted to be with her." Charlotte broke the silence, "If he would have been better at his job he could have made that happen without either of you losing your careers."

Patrick hummed a response and then he looked up at Charlotte, "Are you better?" 

With a look of desperation in his eye, Charlotte knew exactly what he was asking. Could it still be done? "Yes," she answered with a confidence he didn't expect.

"I was hoping you would say that," Patrick looked up at her with a sweet but humble smile. "Where do we start?"

"Well," Charlotte settled into her chair across from him. "You can start by telling me the current state of your relationship."

"Current state of our relationship," He huffed a laugh, "so formal."

"I learned some things from my father..."

"Things didn't end well after I met with Arthur. In some ways he was right. She wasn't ready to leave it all behind." Patrick began to detail their continued love story.

Charlotte's office suddenly feeling more like an oversized confessional. As he described the moment in the park when she'd admitted she was still in love with him. "I've been seeing her as often as possible since that day," Patrick cleared emotion from his voice, "It's gotten harder to hide," his voice a little fragile, "but we've managed." He ran his hand through his hair, "before you ask, yes we've been sleeping together."

"I wasn't-"Charlotte tried to interject but he just continued.

"I'd like to say I feel bad about it." he shook his head, "but it's half as often as we did when we were working together." He leaned further back in his chair, there was both an air of arrogance and disgust with himself. "I don't feel bad about it. I want to go home to her every day. We already missed our young life, I get it, we won't be having kids together. But at least we can grow old together." 

Charlotte shifted in her chair. It immediately trigged his memory of Arthur, "I'm going to be clear," his tone defensive, "I don't care if I look like a giant prick this time, I don't care if I never work again, I don't care if everyone hates me, I just want Ellen and to be able to see my kids."

"Patrick," Charlotte's voice was suddenly empathetic, "I'm not sure what my father conveyed to you or convinced you of... but I don't think this is going to ruin your image or your career. Everyone watched that chemistry come alive on screen. We frame this right and this is the stuff fairytales are made of. There will be people banging on your door for jobs, interviews, books even." It was the kind of spin he wanted but it wasn't his end game, "Ut," Charlotte raised her hands, "I know you don't care about that stuff. I heard you loud and clear. Ellen and your kids. I'm just making a point. Your authenticity isn't ruining anything or anyone."

 A sense of relief filled the room, "Thanks."

Charlotte and Patrick spent the rest of the afternoon mapping out what the next few months looked like. For the first time in twenty years, Patrick felt peace. A lightness spread over him.