A/N: With all of the Wilson-angst floating around these days, I thought it would be nice to have another side of the story. Please pretend that Rebecca Wilson is a real-estate agent. I know…its Julie's job. Well, two people can have the same career. Anyway, I do not own Taylor Swift's Should've Said No. Also, somewhere in the fic I skipped a few lines of the song…sorry about that.
Disclaimer: Yesss! I've done it! I own House, M.D.! Hey, is that a pig flying by my window?
Rebecca previously-Wilson opened her eyes, then, remorsefully, tightly snapped them shut. She twisted tiredly in her queen bed, the one she was sure she'd never leave. Not today, at least. Today was That Day.
Her and Wilson's anniversary.
She had already asked for the day off. Personal reasons, she'd stated calmly. It was almost better for the company not to have her at work—she would never, ever sell a house on That Day. The smiles plastered on her face were induced, and they became harder to fake with each passing year. Rebecca didn't readily possess the ability to convince a man or woman that they needed a third-rate apartment when they obviously deserved more, and this day being That Day didn't help matters at all.
Why did she even have such a problem with it?
It, of course, being Wilson. Because, obviously, whatever had been between her and Wilson was over with. He'd ended their relationship himself, with Sarah, and it was ok. She didn't want to be with him, anyway, so it was fine. She hoped he was having fun with his new girlfriend. Amber, was it?
It's strange to think the songs we used to sing
the smiles, the flowers, everything: is gone.
But, of course, it wasn't ok. It was over, though, for good. Wilson had…gone and done it with Sarah. Slept with her. It was the ultimate crime, the secret to end all secrets. Rebecca had nightmares about it over and over again. "I was having sex with the neighbor while you were at work. What did you do today, Honey?" Before he cheats…ha! What a laugh.
Yesterday I found out about you. Even now just looking at you: feels wrong
You say that you'd take it all back, given one chance
It was a moment of weakness and you said yes...
Of course it hadn't gone down like that. He hadn't told her, she'd found out. And she'd ended it. That was all there was too it. But if he hadn't…
You should've said no, you should've gone home!
You should've thought twice before you let it all go.
You should've know that word, 'bout what you did with her
would get back to me...
Why did he have to go and do it? Why couldn't he have been faithful to his wife, to his marriage? Why did her heart have to suffer through it all?
And I should've been there, in the back of your mind.
I shouldn't be asking myself why,
You shouldn't be begging for forgiveness at my feet...
You should've said no, baby and you might still have me.
Finally, Rebecca had had enough. It was time to stop thinking—and there was only one way to do that. Go to a bar and get dead drunk.