The End

Chapter 39: After All These Years

"I'm going to use the restroom before we head out," Jillian touched his arm as she brushed past him with a smile. She was walking with another makeup artist. 

Patrick stood at the edge of the convention room. The size of the convention center was suddenly very obvious to Patrick. He felt tiny in the vastness of the space.  Yet, her voice seemed as though it could travel miles and penetrate his skin like a bolt of lightning. His pulse quickened.  He had been painfully aware of her since they had met. It was as if some kind of magnet pulled his eyes to her.

He shifted his stance, uncomfortable with the electricity inside of him as he watched her lean into the conversation she was caught up in. Her smile pulling genuinely at her lips. He was both tortured and entertained as he watched her. She consumed him, from any distance. 

The desire to cross the room to her was nearly unbearable. He paced a little, knowing with each passing second any chance of saying goodbye to her was slipping away.

His heart fluttered as he watched her laugh. The way her eyes sparkled, her cheeks just pink enough for him to know she'd had a little too much champagne. He would have inserted himself in the conversation had it not been for the fact that she appeared to be enjoying it.

So he admired her from afar. Feeling both happy to share the same room as her and sad to know he wouldn't be able to walk her to her car or drive her home.

"Ready?" Jillian's voice felt like a heavy weight.

"Yeah," he answered softly, glancing to Ellen once more before turning to leave.

Leaving her was an ache he never got used to. Not even after all these years.

The walk back to their hotel room was filled with quiet tension. Patrick could sense a fight coming and Jillian could sense Patrick's distance. He had said all of the right things. Stood on that stage and thanked her, their children. His voice practiced and his words almost poetic. On paper he was the perfect family man, the way he'd always been, in reality, distraction oozed from his pores. He held Jill's hand but his eyes wandered to Ellen.

Now, their silent walk felt like it could combust at any second.

Patrick reached out with his key card and unlocked his door with a soft beep. They walked in the dimly lit hotel room. Jillian kicked off her shoes and pulled back her hair in the mirror near the door. She shifted uncomfortably. Something noticeable burning inside of her.

"Did you mention the swag bags to Ellen," Jillian asked hesitantly. Her champagne buzz making her a little bolder than usual.

"I don't know," he shrugged sitting on the edge of the bed to untie the laces of his shoes. "Probably her publicist," he lied.

Jill hummed, it wasn't agreement. She was calculating his response, his movements, the events of the evening. Her eyes wavered over him waiting for reassurance that didn't come. "Right," she resigned, her voice a little sharp. The silence stretched longer than it needed to. Something bubbled to the surface inside of her. Unable to resist she spoke, "After all these years," Jill shook her head,  "you still look at her that way..." she broke the silence with what felt like a bomb.

"What way?" Patrick quickly tried to play stupid.

"Please," Jillian's tone was sharp. "Your whole demeanor changed."

Patrick swallowed hard. For a second the truth peeked through his facade. Then, he sighed heavily slipping into the role of the annoyed husband. "It's for the camera,"  he dismissed her concerns with a lie. He firmly took off his tie and tossed it to the bed next to him. This was a part he had mastered over the years.

And then she did something that seemed to stop time. Jill studied his face, her eyes sharp and unwavering and asked, "Is it?" There was the slightest tremble in her strong voice. He couldn't tell if she genuinely doubted him or if it was just her sharp come back to his obvious lie. But something inside of him fractured. What was and what could have been flashed before his eyes.

For a moment he couldn't separate the rush of colliding memories. He could only feel the warmth that washed over him. Ellen's voice so clear in his head, her eyes sparkling, the way they had fallen together and fallen apart. A lifetime of desire, bottled, hidden, bubbling to the brim, aching for freedom. His hair standing on end at the thought of her skin. The imprint of her lips on his pulsating through him.

Patrick opened his mouth to speak, and then closed it. He was caught between instinct and honesty, between the lie he'd rehearsed and the truth he suddenly couldn't ignore. The seconds it took him to respond feeling like a lifetime. Pressure mounting with each heartbeat. His hands clenched slightly. The weight of years of cowardice staring him in the face.

"No," the two letters left his lips like the most pure, painful form of freedom he'd ever experienced. He wanted to let his eyes fall to the ground. It was the mark of any cheater, to not look the wife in the eye when they confessed. But he wouldn't do that. Patrick looked into Jillian's eyes. "It hasn't been for the cameras for a long time." He swallowed the building emotion in his throat.

Jillian seemed to huff a pained laugh, "How long?"

Patrick's eyes filled with tears as they wavered over Jillian's, "too long." He contemplated confessing completely but as he watch Jill crumble in front of him he knew that Ellen was right. She didn't need to know everything. "It was her," his voice trembled, "Alexis was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Goldwyn Associates handled it that way." He ran his hand through his grey hair.

"Jesus Patrick," she tossed her hands in the air, "Why did you even come back?" Jillian spit at him, the shock completely overtaking her.

"I," he sighed, "I thought it was a mistake. I thought our time had passed. I didn't want to break up our family." Patrick shook his head, "I love our family," his voice shaky.

"Have you been sleeping with her?" Jillian's voice emotional but sharp.

"Yes," he answered, "Since just before I went back to the show."

"I'm an idiot," Jillian started collecting her things. Refusing to look at him. "All these years. I let there be every excuse." She groaned, "the photoshoots, and press events, the late nights on set..." she was shaking now, "I feel sick."

Patrick wasn't sure why he hadn't considered the fact that she would piece the years together quickly. "Jillian," he tried to settle her shaky hands, "I'm so sorry."

"I don't even have to ask." She tossed his hand away from hers. She let out a hysteric laugh.

"Ask what?" Patrick was balancing confusion and empathy and waves of guilt.

"If you're in love with her," Jill's voice seemed to slice the atmosphere with knife.

He didn't know what to say but he knew he was trying to be honest with her now, "if I...." His words failed him, "I didn't...." Still nothing. He stood knowing his words were failing him, "if I hadn't fallen in love with her, I would have never done this to you. To our family..."

"Get out!" She yelled at him, "just go, take the car, I'll find a way home." Jillian picked up his suit jacket and his keys and shoved them into his chest. "Don't be there when I get back."

Patrick set the keys back down on the dresser. His eyes now bloodshot and glassy with emotion. Hurting her, destroying their families had never been the intention. "You didn't deserve this," he said softly before he closed the hotel room door behind him.