The End

Chapter 40: A Long Painful Day

The drive to Ellen's house was plagued with a rollercoaster of emotions. He went from high on freedom to devastated by the end of his family in a matter of seconds. Memories of his life with Jillian intertwined with the love story he'd written with Ellen. A complicated web of everything they'd been through.

Unknowns eating at him. A sea of reactions waiting to crash in. His biggest concern was his children. All of them old enough to remember how long Ellen had been around. What would they say? How would they feel? Could they forgive him for selfishly putting his own happiness first?

The world could destroy their images, he knew that. But what they couldn't do was tear them apart. That was all that mattered, the rest he didn't care about. He had sacrificed his career for Ellen once already. He'd do it again.

The life he'd built and the life he'd wished for racing together faster than his mind could handle. His emotions speeding faster than his car ever could.

The engine of his Porsche roared as he pulled into her neighborhood. His eyes struggling to focus on the roads lit only by a few street lights. He'd plan to call her on the way, but somewhere in the chaos of his mind he'd forgotten.

Patrick approached her gate too quickly, like he had some sort of emergency. As he reached to press the call button it hit him, there was no emergency. There was no one on the other end of the speaker that would be concerned to see him show up at 1 in the morning. At least not in the threatening sense. He didn't have to hide from the paparazzi. Though they had long gone to bed. He wasn't risking Jillian pinging his phone to know where he'd gone.

He was simply going home after a long painful day. The realization settled in his stomach differently than all of the other emotions had before. Slowly. Without urgency.

"Hello," Ellen's voice was hesitant. Almost as if her eyes were tricking her.

"It's me," he said his voice a little gruff and she immediately buzzed him through her gate.

When he wrapped the corner of her driveway he found her standing in the doorway. His tired eyes danced over her moonlit, petite but strong figure. She had let her hair down and now wore a short slip dress.

"You changed," he said noticing immediately as he continued his walk to her door.

"I went out. I'm a single woman now," her voice playful and light.

"Hmm," he hummed a response a smile cracking his lips, "We'll see about that."

"These are my pajamas Patrick," feeling satisfied with his response but alleviating the flicker of jealousy in his voice.

"Those are your pajamas?" his voice instantly revealing too much, "Did you know I was coming?"

He'd made his way to the doorway now. The light of her foyer revealing just how disheveled he looked. His once perfectly shaped hair now frayed in every direction, as if he'd run his hands through it 100 times. His eyes tired, blood shot, practically raw from rubbing away emotion.

He stood in pain and exhausted by the strange form of relief. The truth was freeing. The kind of freedom he hadn't experienced in years. But the emotional hang over was unlike anything he'd ever felt.

Patrick hovered in front of her, touching her cheek softly, the way he'd done a million times before. He watched her eyebrows furrow with concern. "Are you ok?"

"Can I come in?" his voice soft but gruff.

"Of course," something shifted nervously inside her. The anticipation of what would come next pulsing through her.