Post-ep for "The Death of a Client" (subsequent events from the show don't exist in this world, nor does anything from my previous fics)
Alicia POV
We were still dancing at two in the morning. I think I'd forgotten what a wonderful dancer Peter is.
"Stay with me tonight," he whispered in my ear as he held me close, and the invitation brought with it a tingling sense of anticipation, as well as a slight feeling of…well, guilt.
Because I kissed Will.
While I'm sleeping with Peter.
And I can rationalize it all I want, but the bottom line is that I screwed up and if I want our reconciliation to work then I have to come clean about it.
And I do want it to work.
I wasn't sure, when we resumed our sex life, but I'm sure now.
I told Will a few hours ago that we had to be done, and that he needed to move forward with his life because we were never going to happen again.
But the truth is, I should've been sure about that before I started sleeping with Peter.
I don't like the kind of person that makes me, still thinking about one man while sleeping with another.
Although it's not like I literally thought about Will while I was with Peter. It's just…well, sometimes it's hard moving on from the possibility of something, especially when I spent a long time thinking about him prior to becoming involved. I kind of thought about Will as the one who got away, and then I caught him, and then I found out we weren't quite as meant-to-be as I'd believed.
We weren't fairy tale lovers who found our way back to each other after twenty years.
It's more that it was an effort to recapture my youth, I think. I mean, Will was Georgetown. He was a time in my life when I was unencumbered and the world was mine for the taking.
Being with him was almost like going back to an easier time.
Except it wasn't, because after the newness wore off, I was still me. I still have kids and responsibilities and an estranged husband and a life. And as difficult as it's been in recent years, I like my life.
I don't want to go backwards.
And I can't explain that damn kiss but I can sure as hell say that it won't happen again, because I'm not just sleeping with Peter.
I love him.
And now he's asking me to spend the night with him in his hotel room.
As much sex as we've been having lately, we haven't stayed the night together. I've wanted to from time to time, and I think he's wanted to as well, but I've been keeping a distance between us. An emotional distance. I guess I've wanted to protect myself from letting him hurt me again. Otherwise I'd feel like every clichéd wife in America, the ones who stay with cheating husbands. This way, I'm getting what I want from him without risking my heart.
Or at least, that was my plan. Be friends, enjoy each other physically, but don't get too attached so that if he strays again, I'll be okay.
Only things didn't exactly go according to plan because I am attached.
And I'm the one who strayed.
I pulled back slightly from Peter's embrace so that I could look him in the eye, and I found him watching me expectantly.
"I'd like that," I answered, and his responding smile sent a flood of arousal through me.
God, I love him.
What was I thinking when I kissed Will?
Peter hugged me briefly and then released his hold on me as he said, "Let me make the rounds and then we can go."
So I stood back and watched him as he shook hands and smiled politely and said just the right thing to the remaining guests at the party, and then he came back to me and took me by the hand.
"Why do I feel like a kid on prom night?" he asked playfully as he led me towards the stairwell.
"What, you think you're going to get lucky?" I teased.
He paused at the bottom of the stairs and flashed me a look, that one that makes my body temperature shoot up several degrees, and then he said in a low, husky voice, "I'm already the luckiest man alive."
Then he kissed me, a gentle and stirring exploration that had me sighing contentedly as he pulled away fractionally before capturing my lips again.
And then suddenly a voice carried into the lobby, reminding both of us that we're potential subjects of any lingering paparazzi.
"We should continue this upstairs," he rumbled, and I hummed my agreement even though I was still savoring the moment.
Because as soon as we're behind closed doors, I have to tell him, and his amorous mood will be a thing of the past. I hate knowing that I'm going to spoil the night, but I can't let my secret fester any longer.
I chose and rejected words in my head as we made our way to his suite, but there's no good way to say it.
"Did you check on the kids?" he asked as he slipped the keycard in the lock and then held open the door for me.
"They're in bed," I confirmed. My mother took them back home, since the threat against me turned out to be bogus.
"And your mother doesn't mind sleeping over?"
"A boundless supply of free alcohol," I said on an eye roll. "What's to mind?"
He chuckled as he locked the door, and then he turned around and pinned me with a predatory stare.
"I'm glad you're here," he said, reaching out to trace one finger along my bare shoulder. "I wasn't sure if you'd say yes."
He leaned over and pressed his lips against my skin, and it feels so good, but I almost feel sick inside for what I'm about to say.
"Peter, we…I…there's something I need to tell you."
He immediately straightened and looked at me with concern, and God, I hate this.
I could be standing here enjoying having him peel off my gown…I could be telling him that I love him, since I haven't uttered those words since before…I could be feeling his talented hands and lips all over me…
But I screwed up, so I'm here instead.
About to tell him.
"What is it?"
In spite of my efforts to come up with an eloquent way to say it, I've got nothing.
So I just said it.
"I kissed Will. Or, he kissed me. We kissed."
His expression darkened as his hand dropped away from my shoulder, and I could hear the seconds ticking off the clock as he stood and stared at me, only the hungry look is gone. Now it's confusion. And anger. And hurt.
"When?" he asked through gritted teeth.
"Two weeks ago."
"Two weeks?" he yelled. "And you're telling me now?"
"I thought it was important to be honest. I…Peter, it doesn't mean anything. It was a mistake, and I told him that."
He ran his hand over his face and took another step back from me, shaking his head in frustration.
"Are you still in love with him?" he asked after another moment, and his voice is tight…sad.
"No. I don't know if I ever was in love with him, but it's definitely over. It's been over, this was just…I don't know what it was."
"Is that what you were thinking about? Earlier, when we were dancing."
"What? No."
"So the just a memory wasn't him?"
"I was thinking about a client," I answered truthfully. "The one who was killed tonight."
"Oh."
He turned away from me, loosening his tie as he walked towards the couch.
"We've slept together seven times in the past two weeks," he stated flatly. "Seven times after you kissed him."
"I wanted to get things right in my head before I told you about it."
"And are they?" he asked bitterly. "Right in your head?"
"Peter," I sighed. "I.."
"It's really not fair of me to be mad, is it?" he interrupted. "I mean, hey, I probably had this coming. What's good for the goose, right?"
"It's not like that. I wasn't trying to get payback, or…or…or…"
"It doesn't matter."
"It…what?" I asked.
"This. You, me…where did we think we were going, anyway? What I did before is unforgiveable, and we'll never get back what we had. I was stupid to think you could ever fall in love with me again."
"Peter, no," I argued as I crossed the room to where he stood, and it hurt to see him stiffen a little as I got close. I'd planned to touch him but everything about his expression suggested that it wouldn't be a good idea so I just stood with my hands at my sides and looked at him entreatingly. "I do love you. That's why it was so important for me to tell you because I realized that I'm in love with you, and I want us to start with a clean slate."
He held my gaze for a minute, but then he turned away again, walking over to the mini bar and pouring himself a drink. I could use one, too, but he didn't offer me anything. Instead he stood with his back to me as he tossed back the bourbon.
And I have no idea what to do next.
It might be funny if it didn't make me want to cry, the fact that we've practically switched places. And I know the situations are a little different, but it all boils down to the same thing. Trust, and the breaking of that trust.
When I initiated our renewed sex life, it was with the understanding that we'd be exclusive. I mean, there's no way I'd be okay with the idea of him sleeping with anyone else at the same time, and vice versa.
And no, kissing isn't the same as having sex, but it's still a breach.
It's still cheating.
It's still very wrong.
"I don't know what to say to you right now," he admitted after he refilled his drink. "At least not without sounding like a hypocrite."
"Say what you feel," I encouraged, my heart in my throat.
"Um…I think…I'd like you to go."
To Be Continued