Lucien sat in the front room, drink in hand, and the blinds open just enough for him to peer outside. He took a swig of his whiskey and glanced at his wristwatch, gritting his teeth when he saw the hour.

Jean had been gone for hours. With Matthew.

He could only watch with yearning as she left him behind, dressed beautifully, and walked away with Matthew at her side, his hand drifting low on her back and guiding her into his car.

And now he sat in the dark quiet of the house, only alcohol and the gentle ticking of the clock to keep him company. He only had himself to blame. Mei Lin was back and Jean was slipping through his fingers.

Briefly, he imagined the life Jean could lead with Matthew: no secrecy, no scandals, no judgment hanging over their heads. She would be free to walk with him, hand in hand. She could be happy.

A wave of nausea washed over him as he thought of her life without him in it. Back to courteous nods of acknowledgment and stiff formalities; she would be Mrs. Beazley and he would be Dr. Blake again.

If it would make her happy, he would let her go.

The sound of tires crushing gravel and the bright beams of headlights shining through the blinds brought his attention back to the window. He thought he must be a masochist because he couldn't tear his eyes away.

Gripping the glass in his hand so tightly he thought he was in danger of shattering it, he watched through half-opened blinds as Matthew opened Jean's door for her, offering her a hand to help her out.

They exchanged a few words and Jean smiled at him-a smile that used to be for him only-and then stepped forward and wrapped her arms around his shoulders in a hug. Lucien's stomach clenched with jealousy as Matthew watched Jean walk back into the house, eyes soft.

There was an animalistic sense of satisfaction as he watch Matthew get back in his car and drive far, far away from his Jean. He finished the last of his drink, grimacing.

The door opened and closed and he heard Jean sighing softly. He listened to the sound of fabric rustling and then her footsteps echoing down the hallway and he called out to her as she passed the darkened room.

"Did you have a good time?"

His voice was harsh, even to his own ears, and Jean jumped at the unexpected query, peering into the dark room.

"Lucien?" She stepped into the room and flipped a switch, the light of the lamp illuminating his features. Jean took in the sight of him: disheveled hair, bloodshot eyes, and the top buttons of his shirt undone.

Her brow furrowed, "Lucien, what on Earth? Have you been here all night?"

He stared down at his empty glass, swirling the remaining rapidly melting ice cubes. "Where did you go? You were gone for a few hours." Lucien tried to keep the accusatory tone out of his voice, but couldn't quite manage it. He was desperate to know what she had done without him.

Jean crossed her arms over her chest. "I'm not sure how that's any of your business, Lucien. We're not-I'm not your-"

But she couldn't get the words out, not knowing that she didn't mean it. Lucien stood, dropping his glass on the window sill, and striding over to her. He was drunk and he should leave her alone. But the sting of seeing her in Matthew's arms, of not being able to have her in his, drove him closer to her.

"Did you have a good time with Matthew? I saw you hugging him, I saw you smiling at him." He reached a hand out for her before thinking better of it, the hand falling to his side. "Is that what you want, Jean? A life with Matthew Lawson?" He let out a bark of laughter and Jean flinched at the sound.

She had never seen him like this before. He'd certainly been drunk in her presence before but he'd never been this desperate, this upset. She watched as he ran a hand through his hair and turned pleading eyes on her.

"I don't blame you, love. I know I'm a mess and I'm not easy to love. But I can give you everything Matthew can, I promise, Jean. I just need time. I need to sort everything out." He grasped her arms, holding her tightly. "Don't give up on me, Jean. Please, don't give up on me."

Jean's heart broke at his pleading and she reached out to him, cupping his face in her hands, stroking his beard gently. "Lucien, we can't-"

But Lucien was shaking his head, cutting her off, taking her in his arms and walking her back, pressing her back against the nearby wall. "We can. I can be good for you, Jean. I can be everything Matthew is, please, please." His lips hovered over hers and his eyes flickered up to hers. "Let me kiss you, Jean. Please. Let me prove to you that I'm all you need."

Jean wanted to tell him no, wanted to tell him he had it all wrong that Matthew was only a friend, that she didn't want Matthew and had only ever wanted him. But the words stuck in her throat and she nodded, lifting her chin and encouraging his kiss.

He fell upon her like a man dying of thirst, groaning with pleasure at the taste of her. He buried his fingers in her hair and held her against him, the taste and smell of her overwhelming him.

Jean held onto him, just as desperate. They hadn't touched like this since Adelaide, since Mei Lin had arrived on their doorstep. She had forgotten what he tasted like, forgotten what he felt like when she was the focus of his attention, completely devoted to her.

Breaking away, Lucien buried his face in the curve of her neck, planting kiss after kiss to the soft skin there. Jean carded her fingers through his hair and sighed and realized with a start that Lucien was speaking into her neck.

It was her name over and over again, a reverent chant. She closed her eyes and bit her lip, choking back a sob. Everything was so messy and broken and she couldn't see a happy ending for them. Not now.

She pushed him away gently and he whimpered, still clutching at her. She hooked her finger under his chin and forced him to look at her. "I'm not with Matthew, Lucien. He offered me a friendly ear and a night to get away from all of this."

He dropped his eyes from her gaze, ashamed of his behavior. "I was jealous. I don't want you to be with anyone else, Jean."

Jean took in a deep, shuddering breath. "Oh, Lucien. I don't want to be with anyone else, either. But," she choked out, still stroking his beard. "But we can't be together either."

She pushed him away, turning to leave. She needed air, needed to breathe and catch her breath away from him. He made her head foggy and couldn't think straight.

And in truth, it hurt too much to touch him like this, to hear him plead with her and promise her a future that she couldn't see anymore.

He caught her hand before she could escape though and he pressed a sloppy kiss to the back of her hand, pleading once more, "Don't give up on us, Jeannie. I will make this right."

She closed her eyes against his promise and pulled her hand away from his. Clearing her throat and willing the tears stinging her eyes not to fall, she walked away. "You're drunk, Lucien. Get some sleep."

Behind her, Lucien closed his eyes and then with a sharp jab punched the wall in frustration. He shattered his knuckles and he hissed, clutching his hand to his chest. It didn't matter, though. The pain was nothing compared to the pain in his chest: a breaking, desperate heart.