The End

Chapter 41: Life is Messy

Patrick rarely withheld information and when he did, she knew better than to push him. They padded through her house and landed in her kitchen. He collapsed to the bar stool at her island as she opened a bottle of wine.

She stepped to his side of the kitchen and slid him a full glass. It clinked against her counter top as she did.  He didn't look up at her. He sipped the wine and ran his hand through his hair again.

"Patrick..." she pushed ever so slightly, her hand settling on his forearm.

"I told her," his voice shaky, "She was going on about how I look at you. And I cracked. She questioned me and I cracked." He paused, "I couldn't do it anymore. Not to her, not to us..." his eyes searched for reassurance in hers. He found more.

There was empathy, love, admiration, but there was also hope. For the first time in the history of their relationship they were at the same place, at the same time.

He touched her hand letting her stabilize him. "We never were great at sticking to the script," she smiled lightly and leaned against the counter next to him. "I imagine she didn't take it well."

"No," he said with a gust of breath, "I'm sure part of her knew," his voice soft now, "It just... once I told her it was real, it was easy for her to see how long it had been real for. I didn't tell her more than she needed to know, it would have broke her, but... I didn't have to."

Ellen sighed, "I'm sorry, Patrick," She shook her head, "that must have been really hard."

"Don't be," he said softly, "It was one of the hardest things I'll ever do... but I've been waiting over a decade to do it." his emotional eyes lingered over hers, "I'm sorry things had to be so messy."

"Life is messy," she shrugged.

"I guess so," he exhaled the emotion building in his throat. He knew hurting Jillian would never be something he was proud of. The thought of it would always sting like an open wound in his chest but fighting for what he wanted was a decision he would never regret. "Mind if I wash my face," he said softly.

"Of course not," she said, "just around the corner," she gestured to her guest bathroom.

Patrick splashed water on his face and ran his fingers through his hair, taming it, for the first time in hours. He locked eyes with his disheveled reflection. It would be easy to let the guilt consume him, but that would be a waste. The man staring back at him didn't have to be the home wrecker. It was possible for him to be the man who had fallen in the kind of love you do anything for. That sat differently in his chest. He wouldn't deny the wreckage he had caused, but he also wouldn't feel guilty for falling in love with her.

When he returned to the kitchen he found Ellen through the patio doors, curled on a chaise lounger near her pool. She felt his presence, but she didn't turn to look at him, "The moon is pretty bright tonight," she said softly, letting the words linger in her veins.

"I think it's a super moon," Patrick smiled and sat next to her, pulling her into his arms.

"It would have to be," She smiled and settled against him. The nostalgia of coming full circle washing over her. His arm wrapped around her and resting against her side. Her head nuzzled into his neck. It felt like yesterday that she was calling him from her bed, running outside to admire the moon, wishing he was next to her. What an impossibly beautiful way to end this chapter of their lives.

Ellen let out a sigh that seemed like relief and held his hand tighter. For once she let herself be in awe of all the things that had to go right for her to be in his arms.

What if she hadn't spoken up when she knew he was the best actor for the role of Derek... If he hadn't gone to the Dresden? What if she hadn't taken that bottle of water in his trailer... Sent that text message, answered his phone call, met him for a hike, invited him to come back to the show. The list went on and on. It could have so easily been derailed, but it was hard to derail fate.

She felt him shift behind her, "did you just fall asleep?" Ellen laughed lightly.

"Nope," his sleepy voice betraying him.

"For a good actor," she shook her head, "you're a bad liar."

"I lie just fine," he played along with her.

"Come on Dempsey," her voice smooth, "Let's go to bed." Ellen stood and reached for his hand. The strap of her black silk dress slipping off her shoulder. His eyes met hers as she hovered over him. She was as beautiful tonight, as the day he had met her. Suddenly he wasn't tired anymore.