A/N: Alright, here's the deal. This is an angsty, AU, Mrated piece dealing with adultery and the like. If any or all of those bother you, well, there's a little 'X' at the top of the page with your name on it. I don't want to offend anyone, but it is what it is! You can't stifle creativity; once you get the idea, sometimes you just have to write it. That's what happened here.
Flashbacks in italics.
----
She said his name into his ear, her voice so seductive that it made him moan, and when she told him she wanted him to come inside her, he bit down on her shoulder with enough pressure for her to feel it, but not hard enough to leave a permanent mark. He pushed into her hard and she gasped at the feel of him hitting her so deeply; filling her so perfectly. This was why she was with him. She questioned it often, but he never failed to remind her.
She was coming moments later, his base putting pressure on her in the most amazing way, and she took him with her. It was another indication of how well they seemed to know each other.
"Fuck," he breathed out, rocking against her a couple last times. Her head was thrown back, and he kissed along her jaw to her chin, then captured her lips with his.
"You're so good at that," she said breathlessly as he collapsed next to her. She laughed a little at how cheesy it sounded, and reached for the sheets he'd pushed to the floor in his haste to be inside her.
"Better than him?" he asked, turning to look at her.
That was normally when she'd get pissed at him. He'd bring up the fact that she wasn't really his, and she'd call him horrible names and slam the door and they wouldn't talk until the next time she called him and told him she needed him. The longest they'd gone since they started this whole thing was a week. A week, then she was knocking at his door and kissing him as soon as they were inside. They'd lay down right there in the hallway of his house.
He'd never asked this question. He already knew the answer.
"Definitely better than him."
He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, laying his head back on the pillow and staring at the ceiling. "You should go, I guess," he said sadly, resigned to the fact that she usually had to leave immediately after she'd gotten what she came for.
"No," she insisted. "I'll make us something to eat."
"Peyton..."
"I'm going to want you again before morning," she interrupted, rolling over so her body was pressed against his. She reached down and ran her hand over him and he groaned at the feel. Surely, she was trying to kill him. Or giving him a preview of things to come. Literally. "I'm staying."
"Okay," he said, smirking at her.
She kissed his cheek then stood from the bed and walked out of the room, not bothering to put any clothes on. On one hand, he was happy that she felt so at ease at his place. On the other hand, if he walked out to join her and she was still undressed, he'd surely end up taking her right there in his kitchen. It wouldn't be the first time, but still. He'd just stay in his bedroom and wait for her to bring him food.
Right. As if that was possible. Knowing she was out there making him something to eat, waiting until she was ready, until she needed him again, well, that was just far too tempting. He knew she knew it. She probably expected him to go after her.
He walked out to the kitchen and saw her standing there buttering toast, and he didn't care about food whatsoever. Her perfect, toned, tanned body was naked in his house, and he was going to take advantage of that fact.
He was never sure when it would happen again.
----
She sat in her office on Monday morning after spending the majority of her weekend with Lucas at his place. They always met at his place. It was just safer that way. Neither of them said it, but they both knew it made them each feel less guilty, too. Especially her. She was, after all, the one doing something wrong. Sure, he could say no; could have said no. He explained that he just wasn't strong enough to do it. She explained that she wasn't noble enough. He'd scoffed and told her to shut up, then kissed her and they got up to something that made her forget what she'd said and what they were talking about.
Her cell rang on her desk and it was her husband calling.
She was already thinking of Lucas. She couldn't talk to Brad when she was thinking of someone else. She ignored the call.
Things would have been so much easier if she and Lucas had never met.
--
"Fuck!" she shouted when she felt the impact of the car that had just rear-ended her.
Thank God for German engineering. She was fine, just a little shaken up. She hadn't even gotten out of her Mercedes yet, and her hands were shaking and her stomach was in a knot. She'd never been in an accident before. she supposed there was a first time for everything, and so long as she wasn't injured, it wasn't so bad. Cars could be repaired; that's what insurance is for.
She stepped out of her car, her heels clacking against the asphalt, and saw a middle-aged man with graying hair and a cheap-looking suit, standing and surveying the damage to his SUV.
"I'm so sorry," he said sincerely. "I just couldn't stop in time."
She wanted to scream at him. It was a fucking red light. What more indication did he need? It wasn't like it snuck up on them. She decided quickly that the man was an idiot.
"Are you alright?" he asked.
"I'm fine," she said, putting her hands on her hips in an attempt to stop them from shaking.
"Are you just saying that now so you can sue me later, or are you really fine?" he inquired.
She stopped what she was doing - noticing that both her taillights were broken and her rear bumper was cracked - and turned to glare at him. What could she say? She was a bitch, and this guy said exactly the wrong thing. It didn't help that it was a million degrees out and she was wearing a stupid blazer since she was coming from a meeting with a client.
"I'm fine," she spat. "Can I get your information?"
"Yes, of course," he said, rushing back to his car.
She ran her hands through her hair in frustration and took a calming breath that didn't do anything to actually calm her, and she went back to her car to get her pen and pad of paper out of her bag. Brad was going to kill her. This car was his baby, and the only reason she was driving it was because he had decided to take her SUV to go golfing with a couple of his colleagues.
"Excuse me?" a masculine voice said. Peyton turned to face the blonde stranger, but she didn't say anything. "Hi. I'm Lucas Scott." He extended his hand, which she shook, out of politeness alone. "I just saw what happened, so I thought I'd give you my card in case you need a witness."
"Thanks," she said coldly.
"Are you alright? You look a little shaken."
"I was just hit by a fucking car. Tends to rattle a person." He smirked at her, and she closed her eyes and took a breath. "Sorry. Just...I'm sorry."
"Understandable," he insisted. "Here." He handed her a bottle of cold water and she almost let herself smile at him. "He give you the old 'I didn't see the light'?"
"Couldn't stop in time," Peyton explained after taking a sip from the bottle.
"Right," Lucas laughed. "Well, he was talking on his phone."
"Of course," she muttered, shaking her head.
"Listen, I called the police," he said. She turned to him and looked at him quizzically. "Damage over $1000 has to be reported."
"Oh. Okay."
"So I have to stay," he said. "I'm sure they'll have questions."
"And you gave me your card because...?" she asked, raising her brow as she looked at him.
"Because you're a beautiful woman, and I wanted an in," he admitted.
She didn't know what to say. Was this guy seriously hitting on her at the scene of her car accident? She hadn't really noticed, but he was definitely attractive. He was just in jeans and a short sleeved button down shirt, but his skin was tanned, and his eyes were intensely blue. His hair was cut short and styled messily. Definitely attractive.
She found herself smiling before she could even think too much about it.
He stayed with her the whole time. She explained the accident from her point of view, and the other driver explained, but Lucas' story corroborated Peyton's. Lucas explained that his uncle owned a body shop that could do the repairs and called for her car to be towed, then helped her get her things from the vehicle, carrying her portfolio for her, and offered to give her a ride to wherever she needed to go.
"Would you let me buy you lunch?" she asked. He smirked at her, and she wondered if he hadn't seen her wedding band before realizing that she'd taken it off that morning to do the dishes, and she'd forgotten to put it back on. "It's the least I can do."
"You don't have someplace to be?"
"No. I can't work when my hands are shaking anyway," she said with a laugh. He looked down to the portfolio in his hand, and he found himself wondering what kind of art she did. "Come on. I insist."
"Well, if you insist," he said as he unlocked his car door.
She was very aware that she was taking this guy to lunch who'd expressed an interest in her.
She also hadn't called her husband yet.
She and Lucas talked over their meal. He was a writer who happened to own a little book store not too far from the restaurant they were eating in. He was a few years younger than her, and he'd grown up in this little town, only a half hour from the city she lived in. She told him she was an artist who was the curator of a little studio and gallery in Wilmington, and she was only in Tree Hill to meet with a prospective buyer.
She liked this guy, she realized, and she really didn't know what that meant. She hadn't had this kind of connection with someone in a long, long time, and she was confused and actually stressing out about it a little bit. She figured the best way to put a stop to anything going beyond this innocent 'thank you' lunch was to tell him she was married.
"Oh," he said, clearly surprised. "You're not wearing a ring."
"I know. I forgot it," she said, running her thumb over her bare finger. There was no tan line there, and he wondered how often she 'forgot' her ring.
"I didn't think you were supposed to take wedding rings off," he said, his eyes meeting hers.
"Excuse me?" she asked incredulously.
"Aren't they supposed to always stay on?"
"Whatever you're implying, I don't appreciate it," she said hotly, setting her water goblet down on the table with force.
"Well, you're not wearing a ring and you're going to lunch with a stranger who told you he was interested," he said. She crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him. "And unless I've completely misinterpreted everything, you've been flirting with me."
"I have not!" she said indignantly. The more she thought about it, the more she realized it was a lie. She reached into her bag for her wallet and dropped enough money on the table for their lunch before standing. "Thank you for your help, Mr. Scott."
She walked away before he could say another word. They were both certain that was the last they'd see of each other.
--
As much as Peyton hated that she was cheating on her husband, she knew she couldn't give Lucas up. She just couldn't. Just like all those clichéd stories you hear, she got something from Lucas that she couldn't get anywhere else or from anyone else, and she needed that. She hadn't known it before she met him, but she needed it. She needed him.
She'd never told him so. It was implied in the way she acted with him. And if she said the words, that meant that their relationship wasn't just physical, that it was emotional, too. It couldn't be both. One or the other. Never both.
She'd been a little freaked out to learn that Brad was actually from Tree Hill. How they'd been married for three years and together for four and she didn't know that, she wasn't sure. She'd always just assumed he had grown up in Wilmington. She wondered why he never told her the truth. But after doing the math, she figured out that he would have graduated high school a couple years before Lucas started, and the two probably didn't know each other.
Even still, when they drove to that little town to pick up his repaired car a week later, she found herself hating that look in Lucas eyes when he saw her walking with her husband at her side. She hadn't expected to see him.
She still hated that look. She hated it because there was hurt in his eyes, and she didn't want him to feel it. She knew that on some level, it was entirely her fault that the hurt is there.
Every single day, she asked herself what the hell she was doing.
----
"You've gotta tell me who this girl is," Nathan insisted. He was standing in Lucas' living room with a basketball in his hands, and Lucas emerged from his bedroom pulling his tee shirt over his head. "It's been what, four months?"
"I dunno," Lucas said, shrugging his shoulders. He knew. It had been four and a half months, actually, since that first day they met. "It's just a casual thing."
"You and your casual things," Nathan mumbled. He'd never understood that. Of course, he'd been married since he was 16, but he always thought Lucas was the relationship type. After high school, however, all his encounters had been 'casual'. At least that was how he described them. "What's her name?"
"I'm not telling you. Fuck off. Let's play some ball," Lucas said with a smirk, grabbing the ball from his brother.
The truth of if all was that Lucas actually didn't want it to be casual. For the first time since he was 17, he didn't want to be in a casual relationship. He wanted big things with Peyton. He wanted things with her that she already had with someone else. He'd never met her CFO-of-a-national-food-company husband, and he didn't want to, because he knew, even if she didn't, that the guy wasn't good enough for her.
Because if he was, she wouldn't have ever called Lucas in the first place.
--
It was a good three weeks after that accident, and he hated that he couldn't get that woman out of his mind. It wasn't just that she was beautiful, it was that she was so beautiful that he was surprised he even had the nerve to talk to her. She'd been a pleasant surprise, a beautiful mistake. He didn't even care anymore that she was married. The more he thought about her, the more he wanted her. The more he thought about her, the more he wanted her to be single. But he knew that if she came to him and told him she didn't care about the ring (after all, he'd implied that she didn't) he'd kiss her before she could say it was a bad idea; before he could realize it was a bad idea.
-
She sat in her office in her studio, knowing she had to take a trip to Tree Hill to drop off the paintings she'd sold to her buyer there, and given that she hadn't stopped thinking about Lucas since she met him, she figured that calling him wouldn't be the worst thing. And since she wanted to apologize for some reason for him having to see her with Brad, though she wasn't sure she had anything to apologize for.
Once she finally admitted to herself that she just wanted to hear his voice and maybe see him, she just picked up the phone and dialed the number on the navy blue business card he'd given her. She'd battled with throwing the damn thing out, she just couldn't bring herself to do it.
"Hello?" he answered gruffly. He'd just finished reorganizing a shelf in his stifling store, and he was hot and sweating. He'd considered not answering the phone, but it was annoying him, so he picked it up.
"Um...Hi. Is this Lucas?"
"This is him."
"This is Peyton," she said, her voice far more confident than maybe it should have been.
"Oh," he said eagerly. "Oh. Hey."
"Um, so listen. I'm coming to town this afternoon, and I thought...I mean, if you wanted to have coffee, or something..."
"Sure."
"Really?" she asked skeptically.
"Yeah. Of course."
"I thought you might hate me or something. I wouldn't really blame you," she said, laughing a little bit.
"No. Not at all. Just come to the store when you're ready," he said. He was smiling. He couldn't get this girl out of his head. He couldn't wait to see her. Maybe he'd see her and she wouldn't be as gorgeous as he remembered, or she'd be wearing those stupid rings and he'd realize that she was off limits.
But the fact that she was the one calling him told him that maybe she wasn't off limits at all. Maybe she didn't want to be.
-
They talked about everything over that coffee. She explained that she really didn't know what she was doing, and that she didn't know why she felt so drawn to him, but she did, and she didn't want to ignore that, but she didn't want to do anything she'd regret. He'd brewed coffee in his little office and they'd taken it to the rooftop of his store, sitting on the bare roof in the hot afternoon sun and talking.
He leaned over and kissed her when she told him that she'd never met anyone like him.
"I'm married," she reminded him, shoving at his chest a little bit.
"I don't care," he said, shrugging his shoulder lazily. She looked at him like she didn't believe him. "That's your problem, not mine."
She actually smiled over him calling her marriage a 'problem'. She supposed that should make her some kind of horrible wife.
"I can't...I can't give you anything," she nearly whispered.
"Sure you can," he said, smirking at her. She shook her head, but he rest his hand on her thigh beneath the material of her skirt, moving it higher and higher, giving her ample opportunity to tell him to stop.
She didn't tell him to stop. His fingertips brushed against her through her underwear, and she lay back where she was sitting atop the roof, and she said his name softly.
She had no idea what the fuck she was doing. All she knew that what he was doing felt really damn good.
That's what really started it all. They had sex in his office at his store, both of them insisting that they didn't want to - and maybe couldn't - wait long enough to go anywhere else.
She cried on her way home, but she didn't know if it was the guilt over what she'd just done, or the fact that she'd never felt anything so good, so intense in her entire life. Or maybe she was crying because she was already wondering when she could see him again, and any possible answer seemed too far away.
--
His phone rang in the middle of his game with his brother, and Lucas ran over to grab it. He smiled when he saw that it was Peyton. She'd just left him the day before, and her calls were becoming more and more frequent.
He wondered if she'd ever leave her husband. He'd tried to convince himself that he didn't want her to, but dammit, he did.
"Hello?"
"Hey. It's me."
"I know," he said. He thought it was hilarious that she always announced it was her even though she knew he had call display. "How are you?"
"I've been thinking about you all morning," she admitted quietly, using that tone of voice reserved only for him.
Or maybe not. But a guy could dream.
"Oh yeah? What does that entail?" he asked, turning his back to Nathan.
"You make it impossible to work," she told him. "Everything I want to paint is red."
He loved that she equated everything to art. Just loved it. He loved that he saw their relationship as so passionate. It definitely was. He had the hickies on his torso to prove it. They'd promised not to leave any visible marks on one another. For her, that was a lot of places. All places. For him, one of her favourite things to do was leave those little red marks just below his belly button and on his hip bones.
She was fucking hot. He got the feeling she did all the things with him that she didn't get to do with her husband.
"When can I see you again?" she asked.
"Whenever you want. I'm not the one we have to work around," he reminded her. Nathan was far enough away that he couldn't hear the conversation, so Lucas got a little bold. "You know I'd fuck you anywhere, any time."
"Lucas," she whined. "That's not helping."
"Are you sure? Just lock your door and help yourself," he said, laughing when he heard her gasp. For a woman so sure about her sexuality when she was physically with him, she sure got shy over the phone.
"I'm serious. When?" she repeated. "He's away until tomorrow night."
"Tonight. Come over," he said.
She agreed to it before he hung up. They never met at her place. Of course they didn't. He didn't even know where in the city she lived. He didn't really care. As long as he got her some of the time, he'd take that.
For now.
He wondered how long it'd be until he started wanting more.
----
She was barely through the door and she had her shirt off, and when she straddled his lap as he sat back on the pillows of his bed, he looked highly amused and definitely turned on.
"Shut up," she said before kissing him heatedly.
"Babe...this..." He could barely speak, because every time he tried, she'd kiss him or shift on his lap. Either of those actions were sure to make him lose his train of thought. "What's the rush?"
"He's coming home early. I only have a couple hours," she explained sadly.
"So you need a good fuck before you get his bad one?" he asked, smirking roguishly, very proud of the fact that his statement was at least partially true.
"Does it bother you?" she inquired seriously, pulling back from him.
Bad move. All that meant was that her bare chest - he'd already unhooked her bra - was right there in front of him. He couldn't help himself, and he ignored her question, putting his mouth to better use and sweeping his lips across her breast. And anyway, he thought that probably answered her question, whatever it was. Did he seem bothered?
"Luke," she whined, pulling his face up to meet hers. "I'm serious."
"I'm seriously dying to have you. Why are we talking?"
"Does it bother you that I'm sleeping with someone else?" she asked again. Her voice was quiet, and he wasn't sure which answer she wanted. She did this every so often; gave him an out.
He didn't want an out. It spoke to her character that she gave him opportunities to end the whole thing.
"No," he answered. "Would it bother you if I was?"
She didn't know he wasn't. He'd never said he was seeing anyone else, she just assumed he hadn't found anyone. The way he said that told her that he wasn't really looking.
"Yes," she insisted.
"So I have to be committed to you, but you don't have to be committed to me," he stated. She was still straddling him, and her hands were still on his shoulders, but this conversation was definitely killing the mood.
"I didn't ask you to be."
"You just did!"
"Luke...You aren't seeing anyone else?" She bit her bottom lip gently, and that certainly did something to repair that mood a little bit. She did things like that all the time; little things she had no clue were sexy.
"Not since that first time with you," he confessed, running his hands over her thighs. She leaned forward and kissed him gently.
"I feel sorry for all the women that are missing out on this," she said, running her hands down his chest and stomach.
"And I feel sorry for you, being so unhappy with him."
She bristled immediately. She sat up a little straighter, and there was fire in her eyes when she looked at him.
"I am not unhappy with him," she insisted. This whole conversation was actively reminding her why they talked about anything and everything but her relationship with her husband.
"So then what are you doing here?" he asked angrily. "What are you doing with me?" She opened her mouth to answer, but he anticipated her response. "And don't say it's just sex, because that's fucking bullshit."
She didn't know what to say. Her throat was tight and she had her jaw clenched to keep her tears at bay. She wasn't crying over her messed up marriage, she was crying over her messed up relationship with this man. The one who she's pretty sure would give her the world if she'd let him. He tried to let on that he didn't care as much as he did; that their relationship was just casual. The fact that he hadn't been with anyone else in the entire time they'd been together told her that it wasn't casual for him.
"I'm not doing this right now," she said, standing from her place. She reached for her shirt, but not her bra, and pulled it over her head as he watched her.
"Peyton..."
"No. Just...don't say anything. I'm going. I don't want to have this conversation."
"So it is just sex, then," he muttered bitterly, watching as she stuffed her arms into her jacket. She turned to him and glared. "What? You don't want to talk to me. That's clearly not what you came for. You just wanted to get off and get out, huh?"
She stared at him blankly for a moment, wondering if he really believed that and why she cared so much if he did.
"Don't call me again," she said. Her tone was a warning that she was completely serious. She didn't want to say it, but maybe this had all gone too far. Maybe it was her that needed the out. Maybe he'd just given her one.
She got as far as her SUV. She got inside, but she didn't put the key in the ignition. She sat with her hands on the wheel for a few moments, realizing that as much as she didn't want to leave her husband, she didn't want to leave Lucas either. She didn't want to even threaten to leave him. She wanted her couple hours with him that night, and to talk to him throughout the week, and she wanted whatever she could take. She didn't want to be sitting in her car with a painful feeling in her chest after walking out on him.
She walked through the door again, but he wasn't in his room. When he heard the door, he appeared from the hallway and smiled softly.
"I was going to have a cold shower," he said. She couldn't tell if he was joking. She assumed not. She walked towards him and he wrapped her all up in his arms, and he started laughing.
"What?"
"No bra hug," he said simply. "I love these." He squeezed her a little harder, and she let out a laugh. She loved that boyish quality to him. It had very little to do with the fact that he was only 23 and she was 26. It was just the way he was.
She pulled away and he was toying with the bottom of her top. "I need you," she almost whispered, cupping his cheek with her palm. "And not just for sex."
He smiled weakly at her and nodded. "But you need him too."
"He's my husband," she reminded him.
"What am I?" he ventured. He was avoiding eye contact. She wondered what exactly he felt for her. More than he was admitting to anyone, himself included, she thought.
"You're my Lucas," she said quietly, smiling at him, all green eyes shining and perfect smile.
"I'm okay with that."
He didn't want to talk any more. He hadn't wanted to talk in the first place, no matter how he'd used that in his argument that their relationship was just sex to her. He knew it wasn't, he was just pissed that she wasn't ready to admit it. Because truthfully, if it was any other situation, he could see himself with this woman for a long time. If she wasn't married, he could see the two of them together. Maybe falling in love or something.
He pulled that shirt of hers up over her head and discarded it somewhere in the room, and she was already stepping out of her jeans. She hadn't been wearing underwear. He groaned and let his head roll back when he saw her, completely naked and moving herself back on the bed. He got himself undressed and lay on top of her, but only for a moment, then she was squealing as he flipped them over.
"Finish what you started," he commanded. She knew he loved it when she was on top. That was part of the reason she'd greeted him like she had when she had first come in.
He fully expected her to just lower herself onto him immediately. Of course, she had to go and surprise him. She kissed her way down his body, stopping to circle his ever-sensitive belly button with her tongue. He let his hands tangle in her hair as he so loved to do and he let out a moan when she took him in her mouth.
He didn't know how much time she really had. He didn't know how long he'd last like that. He reluctantly told her to stop, and she looked up at him, hooded, darkened eyes and seductive smile, and he reached for her arms to pull her up towards him again. He kissed her heatedly as she straddled him once again, and she rocked her hips back and forth a couple times, just to torture him.
"Bitch," he managed, making her laugh. She was laughing at him! He hated when she did that. "Baby...please."
She kissed him hard and his hips bucked when she took him in her hand and guided him into her.
Sex with Lucas was an experience unlike she'd had before. Sure, she'd been married for three years, but even before then, she'd never had anything like this. He was completely in control of his body, though he certainly knew how to let go. She'd never met a man who loved pleasuring a woman the way Lucas did. If they had time - which they did often enough, since her husband traveled so much - he'd spend hours just touching her and tasting whatever parts of her he could. She could tell, sometimes, that it was killing him to not just be inside her, but the sheer volume of orgasms he gave her, he'd say, made it so worth while. He told her he loved to watch her come, and he wanted to see her do it often.
She was convinced he was one of a kind. There was no other man on the planet like him.
She wondered why she hadn't found him years earlier.
She rolled her hips in a delicious motion, making him say her name and drop his head to her collar bone. Both hands covered her breasts, only adding to her experience, and when he thrust upward, she very nearly screamed. He pulled her towards him for a hasty kiss, letting his hands grip her hips as she began moving faster.
"Peyton...fuck, baby," he muttered, feeling himself nearing his release.
She reached back with one hand, bracing herself against his thigh, while her other hand came to rest on his shoulder. The sight her her with her head thrown back, holding him like that and riding him, so close to letting go, had him squeezing her hips even harder. She cried his name at the very moment he couldn't hold on any longer, and she kept moving against him until they were both finished and trying to regain control of their breathing.
She carefully moved off him and lay down on her stomach next to him, throwing her arm lazily over his stomach.
"That was...damn," she said, her breathing still ragged.
"Uh huh." He opened his arm and looked over at her, doing his best not to stare at her lithe naked body. He knew he was allowed, but still. He wasn't one to gawk. "Come here."
She moved into his embrace and hitched her leg over his a little bit, and she placed her palm over his beating heart.
"I have to go soon," she reminded him. She had a half hour drive ahead of her, and she needed to be home and waiting for husband dearest.
"It bugs me," he announced abruptly.
"What?"
"That you're with him. That...that I don't get to be with you that way."
He didn't say anything else and she didn't say anything else. They just lay there for a little while before she pulled herself away from him and started getting dressed. She kissed him before she headed out the door.
He wished he was a strong enough man to tell her not to come back.
----
"Why do we have to go to this thing?" Peyton asked as she slipped into her dress. It was a simple black strapless dress with satin trim, cut to the knee. She didn't care enough about this event to shop for something new.
"Because my company sponsors it. There are a few of us going," Brad explained. "I know you hate these things, but..."
"No, no," she said, waving her hand in the air. She lifted her hair up off her back so he could zip her dress for her. "It's fine. I guess I'd just rather spend time at home with you."
It wasn't a lie. The Entrepreneurs of North Carolina dinner was probably going to be the most boring event of the year. The only saving grace was that Brooke would be there, too. She owned a few clothing boutiques in Wilmington, and she made custom wedding dresses. That meant that she'd secured her place at this thing already. Peyton hadn't known about it until two days before.
But it was okay. She'd go and smile and laugh with Brooke, and she'd shake the hands of whoever Brad introduced her to. And it had open bar and alright food, so she really couldn't complain. It was just one more night she didn't have to cook.
"I'd like that too," he said, leaning down to kiss her. "And you look beautiful."
"Thank you," she whispered. She thought about grabbing the loose ends of his tie so she could tie it for him, but he'd said once that he never understood why women do that. She tried not to be offended.
"So does Brooke have a date, or should we pick her up on the way?"
"I think she's going solo," Peyton mused, stepping into her shoes.
She was still shorter than him, even wearing three inch heels. She loved how tall he was. He was a former pitcher for a minor league baseball team, and he'd played in college when he was getting his MBA. He'd chosen the 'solid' path and followed a career in finance instead of baseball. She secretly missed buttoning her jersey with his name and number on the back and going to the park to watch him play. She knew he'd made the right choice - she didn't want to think about how battered his body would be now, at 28, had he kept playing.
"I'll give her a call," Peyton said. She turned to see him pulling on his jacket, the black fabric perfectly tailored to his lean body. The light gray shirt he wore and the dark grey tie he had on brought out those gray eyes of his that she could never understand. He looked pretty amazing.
"What?" he asked when he saw her staring.
"You look really...sexy."
"I wear a suit every day," he said with a laugh, glancing down at his attire.
"I know," she said quietly, crossing the room to stand in front of him. She ran her hands down his lapels as their eyes met. "And you look sexy every day."
"Well, aren't you going to be fun tonight after a few glasses of champagne," he teased.
"Shut up!" she cried. She swatted his chest, but he grabbed her wrist. He pulled her in for a quick kiss, and she smiled before moving away from him.
Maybe tonight wouldn't be so bad after all.
Or so she thought.
When they walked into the banquet room at the hotel where the event was being held, her eyes fell on Lucas immediately. He was without a doubt the most attractive man in the room, and Peyton noticed that she wasn't the only one who was aware of that. His navy blue suit, light blue shirt, and iridescent blue tie. She wished she'd realized he was going to be there. Their eyes locked across the room and she had to remind herself not to smile at him. No one knew they even knew other. She just walked with Brad to their table while Brooke headed straight for the bar and promised to bring drinks back for Peyton.
Brad immediately started in on a conversation with one of his coworkers, and Peyton smiled her greeting and waited for alcohol. She'd need it. She could practically feel Lucas' eyes on her, and she had to remind herself to stay put and not go over to him and talk to him like she so wanted to.
"Okay, who is that?" Brooke asked after a few minutes of chatting. Both women had full glasses of champagne, but they didn't intend for it to stay that way.
"Who?" Peyton asked.
"The hot blonde. Standing over there. He's been watching me this whole time."
Peyton nearly threw up. He wasn't watching Brooke. If he had been, she would have hated it. She was already a little jealous that Brooke had even gotten that impression.
"I don't know," Peyton said. She would have felt bad lying to her best friend, but, well, what's one more lie?
She changed the subject immediately, started talking about Brooke's store and some of the things she was working on, and Peyton said she herself was working on a handful of pieces. She joked that she'd have to adjust the lighting in her gallery because everything she was working on was red. She wasn't exaggerating. When they had empty glasses, Peyton offered - perhaps too eagerly - to get them refills.
Because Lucas was standing by the bar.
"What the hell are you doing here?" she hissed when he moved to stand next to her.
"I own a small business," he reminded her. He was smirking. He loved to see her all worked up. "What are you doing here?" She went to speak, but he cut her off. "Besides making me crazy looking like this."
"Brad's company..."
"Don't," he interrupted her, holding up his hand and closing his eyes. "Can you just...not say his name?"
"Lucas." She didn't know what else to say. She certainly didn't want him to say things like that. They were both already in so deep. She didn't need him in any deeper. If she was being honest, any deeper and she'd be admitting she loved him or something.
"See, my name is so much better." He smiled when she managed a grin. "Damn, you look sexy."
"This isn't the place," she whispered, smiling at the bartender who'd handed her two refilled glasses.
"He drinks champagne?" Lucas asked incredulously. "I'm not surprised he's a lousy lover."
"Stop it," she hissed. "It's for Brooke."
"Brooke's here?" he asked, scanning the room. He knew of her best friend; she'd told him stories.
"I've been talking to her for a half hour. I came in with her," she said, laughing at his inability to see anyone but her. She kind of loved that.
"Didn't notice," he said, shrugging his shoulder.
"Stop staring. She thinks you're looking at her."
She walked away before he could tell her that he wouldn't stop staring, and that he was only ever staring at her. He realized it may have been a good thing. He could work this to his advantage. The way he saw it, if he had to see her with her husband all night, he could give her a bitter taste of her own medicine. And when he looked over and actually saw someone other than Peyton, he noticed that Brooke was an attractive woman. He was certain he could have an interesting conversation or two with her while Peyton squirmed in that amazing dress of hers.
Sure, it'd be easy. He fucking hated that he had to do it at all.
When he saw who he assumed to be Brad pull Peyton away from who he assumed to be Brooke, Lucas walked over casually and introduced himself to Brooke, saying he'd noticed that the tag of her dress was showing and wanted to help her out. She smiled coyly as he tucked the little strip of white fabric back into its place. He caught Peyton's eye, and she glared at him before turning back to the conversation she was faking interest in.
Yup. Worked like a charm.
She finished her glass of champagne as she eaves dropped, listening to Brooke's banal flirting and Lucas' responses, so obviously just used to make Peyton jealous. She set the glass on the table and walked away from her husband without excusing herself, causing him to look at her in confusion as she strode towards the main entrance. A few minutes later, Lucas told Brooke he had to go make a call, and politely told her he'd see her in a bit. He did feel bad for using her as a pawn, especially considering she was Peyton's best friend.
Fuck it, he thought. He wanted Peyton. He didn't care what he had to do.
He walked outside the room and looked down the hall to see her standing on the terrace in just that strapless dress. She had her arms wrapped around herself, no doubt trying to fight off the late-October chill in the air. When he stepped outside, she turned to look at him only briefly, then turned her back to him again.
"You're being..."
"I'm sorry," he interrupted. But he wasn't, he didn't think. He'd wanted to show her how it felt, and evidently, he'd succeeded. "You know what? I'm not. This is how I feel. Every time you go home to him."
"Lucas, that's..."
"It's the way it is." She shook her head, but she had to know it was true. "The only difference is that I don't actually wear a fucking ring."
She shook her head and ran her hand through her hair. He was right. She was freaking out over him having a conversation with another woman, when she was married to another man. She asked herself for the millionth time what the hell she'd gotten herself into.
"This isn't fair to you," she said sternly. "This is so...This is keeping you from finding someone else, and..."
"I don't want anyone else!" he cried. "I don't know why you can't understand that!"
"Because you should, okay?" she said, willing herself not to cry. "You should want someone else. You should find someone your own age who's not married and who's..."
"Who won't be you," he said quietly. "God, Peyton, you don't get it. Every night...every fucking night I wish that I'd been the one who met you first. This guy...this Brad guy...he doesn't know what he has. He doesn't know how goddamned lucky he is to have you."
And even as he was speaking, she was trying to remember if Brad ever made that kind of speech. He wasn't one for speeches. Brad was the kind of guy who just said things as they came to mind. He didn't hold anything in and wait for moments like this to let them all out in one big dramatic declaration. When he wanted to date her, he told her so. When he wanted to kiss her on their second date, he kissed her. When he wanted her to move in with him, he told her to start packing and that he'd lift anything heavy. He proposed on a whim in New York when they'd gone for a weekend.
She found herself liking that speech. Things had become so predictable with Brad lately, and she thought maybe that had everything to do with the fact that things with Lucas were still so new. But she was quickly learning that the spontaneity, the confidence that had drawn her to Lucas in the first place wasn't fading.
"You don't know him."
"I know you," he insisted. There was no room for argument. "I know that you hate the cereal he loves and that you'd rather sleep on the left side of the bed than the right..."
"Okay, stop," she demanded. "I can't...I can't hear this right now."
"Because you know I'm right."
She looked away from him then, turning to look out over the city, or what she could see of it.
"I love Brad," she said softly, and it wasn't to hurt Lucas. "But sometimes I just wish..."
"What?" he asked when she didn't finish. "What do you wish?"
"I wish I had met you first," she admitted.
A tear slipped from her eye and Lucas had her in his arms before the next one could fall. He hated this. As much as he couldn't blame her husband for taking her off the market, he still fucking hated the guy.
"Can we go somewhere?" he asked. She pulled away from him and shook her head rapidly. "Please."
"Luke..."
"We'll get a room. I'll pamper you," he said, smiling when she rolled her eyes. "Tell him you're taking a cab home or something."
"Why do you make it all sound so easy?" She looked up at him and he was smiling when he shrugged his shoulder. They both knew that no matter how fucked up it was, things were pretty simple between them. It was all just there, and they didn't really need to question much, no matter how often they did.
"Will you come with me?" he asked.
"Okay," she finally said after a few moments of contemplation. "Give me 20 minutes."
"I'll text you the room number."
She went back inside and made her way towards the banquet room and told Brad that she really wasn't feeling great. He said he could take her home, that they could both leave, but she insisted that he stay and she'd be alright, but for him to be quiet when he got home. She casually asked how late he might be. He told her a few hours at most. She told him not to rush. She said goodbye, kissing him on the cheek, then she told Brooke she'd see her later before making her way to the bank of elevators at the front of the hotel.
It was a risky situation and she should have known better. But when had that stopped her before?
----
Brad was away for a week and a half at the annual general meeting for his company in New York. Peyton would have generally been kind of happy that she could be with Lucas without having to sneak around and come up with excuses to get out of the house. Even thinking of her affair in those terms made her stomach churn. She always just chalked it up to needing Lucas. She never called it an 'affair' or 'adultery'. That made it sound so negative. Not that it wasn't. But she was in denial. She focused on the positives.
Lucas was a wonderful man who treated her like she was a million times better than she was. He smiled when he saw her, and he kissed her like he couldn't live without her, and if the situation wasn't what it was, she was sure he'd tell her he loved her every chance he got. She knew he did. Well, she felt like he did. She was thankful he'd never come out and said it. She wouldn't know how to respond.
Because she wasn't allowed to love him.
But this time it was different. Sure, Brad was gone, but she couldn't be happy. This time, on her way to Tree Hill, she had a sick feeling in her stomach that had nothing to do with the fact that she was cheating. It had everything to do with the fact that she had a pregnancy test in her bag that she was terrified to take.
She'd started taking birth control when she started sleeping with Lucas. She'd never been on it before, having heard about all sorts of awful side effects. Brad never pressured her to start on the pill, and he was completely understanding. He'd use condoms and respect the fact that it was her body and he didn't want her to have to go through anything she didn't want to.
Even as she was thinking about that, she wondered how she could ever cheat on him.
But after she started this thing with Lucas, she realized she couldn't be too safe. The last thing she needed was to fall pregnant and not know who the father was. Hiding the fact that she was on the pill from her husband hadn't been easy, and it probably wasn't necessary - she could have explained a change of heart - but she did it anyway.
If it wasn't so scary and stupid, she would have laughed. She'd never had a pregnancy scare when she wasn't on the pill. Now that she was, she had to go through this.
Maybe it was a sign.
She pulled up to Lucas' house, and he was in the living room watching a game when she walked in. She smiled at him, laying there on the sofa with just a pair of jeans on and a beer cradled in his hand and resting on his stomach.
"Hey you," he greeted her.
"Hi." She walked around to sit next to him on the sofa, and he moved his feet so she had room.
"What's wrong?" he asked knowingly, furrowing his brow in worry. She took a deep breath to steady herself, but that didn't ease Lucas' worries at all. "Peyton."
"I need you to promise me that you won't get upset and...be weird."
"I don't know what that means," he told her, setting his beer on the table and taking her hand instead.
"Just promise," she pleaded. There was something in her eyes that made him nod his head at her request. "I'm...I think I might be pregnant."
He wouldn't break his promise; he wouldn't freak out. Not on the outside anyway. On the inside, well, that was a whole other story. Sure, he didn't need a refresher in sex-ed, but he never saw this coming. She was on the pill. Wasn't that supposed to stop this kind of thing? If she was any other woman, he would have questioned her on her birth control methods, asked if she'd wanted this to happen. But not with Peyton. Firstly, she had no reason to want this to happen. Secondly, she wasn't that kind of woman, and he knew it. She wouldn't try to trap him - not that he'd think of it that way - and she wouldn't lie to him, pretending she was pregnant (or maybe pregnant) to see where he stood with their relationship.
And yes, that had happened to him once before, when he was younger. He knew it wasn't happening this time. She was scared and emotional and he could see that she was doing her best not to cry. It would have been okay if she let those tears fall though. She had every reason to cry.
"Hey," he said quietly, pulling her into his arms and cradling her head against his bare chest. He couldn't tell her it'd be alright. He didn't like to lie, and he didn't make promises he couldn't keep.
"I'm scared," she admitted.
"I know," he whispered. "We'll get a test."
"I have one."
"And you're taking it here?" he asked.
She pulled away from him and looked at him with fire in her eyes. "I can't do this alone, Luke!" she informed him harshly.
"Okay," he said quickly. "I didn't mean..."
"I know," she interrupted him, closing her eyes. She thought he may have been right though. Why hadn't she just toughed it out and taken the damn test at her own house, alone, before bringing him into it and scaring the hell out of him too?
Oh, right. Because she needed him. That always seemed to explain it all.
He stood and pulled her up with him, leading her down the hall to the bathroom. He sat her down on the edge of the tub and pulled the blue and pink box from her bag, handing it to her to open.
The whole time, she wondered how Brad would react if it was him she was doing this with. But if it was him she was doing this with (if she had never met Lucas) she wouldn't have been scared, she would have been happy. She'd always wanted kids. She wanted kids with Brad. And now a part of her wondered if that dream was dying with her marriage vows. If this child was Lucas', she didn't know what she'd do. If Brad ever found out about her affair, he'd never forgive her. They'd divorce, and then what would she have? Would Lucas want her if she was single and his to have? Of course, he always said he would, but maybe he just said that because he knew it would never happen and he wouldn't have to follow through on those assurances.
She was questioning absolutely everything. She hated that she had to. She hated herself for getting into this whole mess to begin with. She hated Brad for not giving her everything she needed (everything she didn't know she needed until she met Lucas). She hated Lucas for ever talking to her that day and for ever kissing her that other day.
She took the test and opened the bathroom door again so that Lucas could wait with her. He held her hand, sitting across from her on the closed toilet seat while she was perched on the edge of the tub, and he just continuously stroked her knuckles while they waited the longest three minutes they'd ever experienced.
He didn't really know what to think. Part of him, he hated to admit, wanted her to be pregnant. If she was, she'd have to tell Brad about them, and then maybe he'd get to be with her. It was awful and selfish and he wouldn't voice it, but he felt it. If she was pregnant, maybe he'd be the father. Maybe she'd have a baby and he'd be a dad and they'd raise a child together. He'd never wanted that with any other woman.
Deep in his heart, he knew he'd never get that with her.
The three minutes were up, and Lucas squeezed Peyton's hand one last time before she reached for the test.
All she saw was a minus sign. She wasn't pregnant. Part of her was thrilled. Part of her was devastated. The rest of her didn't know what to think.
"Are you okay?" Lucas asked after a few moments of silence.
"What?" she asked, snapped from her thoughts. She turned and tried to smile, but it was a weak attempt. "Yeah. I'm...I'll be fine. That's...a relief, right?" She noticed the blank expression on his face, and she wondered what the hell he was thinking. "What?"
"A relief," he said quietly. "Right."
"Stop," she said, pulling her hands from his and standing. "You don't...you didn't want this."
"You think you know what I want?" he asked, laughing bitterly.
"You want a married woman to potentially be having your baby?" she asked incredulously, raising her voice. "No. You don't want that."
Hearing her talk about herself having his baby made his heart swell in his chest. He absolutely did want that. That she just assumed he didn't - or was telling him (and maybe herself) that he didn't - really pissed him off.
"What, are you going to do this with him, too?" Lucas asked angrily. "Take the test and shed some tears and wait for the result? There's a reason you came here, Peyton! There's a reason I'm the one you did this with."
"Luke, don't, okay?" She pitched the test into the garbage and walked out of the bathroom. "I already feel...dirty enough as it is."
"Because you're with me, or because you're with him?"
She knew what he was saying. He was basically asking which one of them she felt like she was cheating on. They hadn't made any heavy declarations - they both at least knew better than that. She should have called it off the first time she woke up with his fingers woven together with hers. Or the first time he looked at her the way he looked at her sometimes, like he was absolutely in awe of her. Or that day he told her he wasn't with anyone else; that he didn't want anyone else.
But she wouldn't tell him the truth. She didn't really know the truth.
All she knew was that she felt similar things for different men for different reasons.
"Because I'm with you both."
She sat down on the sofa and took off her cardigan, draped it over the arm of a chair, and closed her eyes. He was struck, for the thousandth time, with how gorgeous she was; how she looked like she belonged in his house.
"What would you have done if it was positive?" he asked gently. "Would you have told him?"
"I don't know. I didn't really think that far ahead." It was a lie. She'd thought about it at length. She didn't want to tell him that she honestly didn't have an answer, and that she most certainly didn't have the answer she knew he wanted.
"Well...think about it now," he demanded.
"Can you just...not be preachy right now?" she requested, shaking her head a little bit.
"I'm not being preachy. God, I'm having an affair with a married woman. The last thing anyone can call me is moral right about now."
"Yeah?" she asked brokenly. "And what does that say about me?"
Dammit. That wasn't what he meant at all. He hadn't meant to insult her in the process of defending himself. Apparently he had a lot to learn about this relationship stuff. And no matter what she liked to say, they were definitely in one.
"Hey, I'm sorry," he said softly, sitting down next to her and pulling her into his embrace. "I didn't mean it like that."
"But it's true," she said. She shrugged him off and he dropped his arms in frustration, but also because he knew better than to hold her if she didn't want to be held, no matter how much it killed him. "I've fucked everything up, Luke."
"No. No you haven't, baby," he said as sweetly as he could. As much as he didn't want her to, she could end this whenever she wanted, and he wouldn't tell a soul. He cared about her too much to make her life a living hell or spite her at all.
"Yes, I have," she said, resting her elbows on her knees and putting her face in her hands. "He'd never forgive me if he found out." It was something she'd known all along. This whole terrifying situation just reinforced it. "Never."
"Would that be the worst thing?" Lucas asked, against his better judgement.
"What?"
"If he was who you were meant to be with, you wouldn't be having an affair," he said bluntly.
"How dare you!" she cried, jumping up from her seat. "You initiated this whole thing!"
"You have had every chance to end it, Peyton," he reminded her. "And you could have stopped it that day. That first day, I asked you what you wanted and you sure as hell didn't say no to me."
"That's not fair," she said, unable to stop her tears. "That's so not fair."
"What's not?!" he asked. "That you're getting the best of both worlds and I'm getting you part time?"
"Best of both worlds!?" She shook her head and let out a bitter laugh. "You don't know the guilt I live with every day, Lucas. Every day."
"And I have to live with the fact that I'm in love with someone who's never going to love me back, not all the way."
She closed her eyes and didn't try to hold back the tears that were falling. He just had to go and say it. He had to confirm that it was how he felt. She'd known it, since he hadn't exactly hidden it, but him saying it was something different. He wasn't supposed to fall for her. This arrangement...whatever it was...wasn't supposed to be about love.
"Don't say that," she whispered.
"Why not?" he asked, crossing the room to stand in front of her. "It's true."
"Don't."
"I love you."
"Stop it!" she demanded. "Stop saying that."
"Do you love me?" he asked, resting his hands on her shoulders.
"No."
"Don't just say that because you don't want to face what it means if you do," he insisted. "Tell me the truth. Do you love me?"
She started crying a little harder. It seemed Lucas was the only person in her life she absolutely could not lie to.
"Yes," she whispered.
"So why can't you be with me?" he asked quietly. "Full time, no secrets. Why can't you do that?"
"Because...because it's not that easy."
"Why does it have to be hard? People get divorced every day, Peyton. That could be you," he said with a smirk, just to make her laugh. She shook her head, but she smiled a little bit, and he moved his hands down to loosely grasp her wrists. "I didn't want to fall in love with you. You made it fucking impossible not to."
"I didn't mean to," she told him. He smiled at her. God, she was adorable. "I'm sorry."
"Why are you apologizing?"
She looked down at the space between them and closed her eyes, and she felt like her heart was breaking in her chest when she said the words she knew she had to say.
"Because I can't do this anymore."
She couldn't look at him. She couldn't look at the hurt on his face and the potential tears in his eyes and see the heartbreak she was causing him. They both had to know this affair couldn't go on forever. She wondered how they'd gotten so stupid; how they'd managed to fall in love. They should have been smarter.
He took her face in both his hands and forced her to look at him.
"Say it, Peyton," he demanded. "Look me in the eye and say it. Tell me you're ending this."
"He doesn't deserve this. Neither do you. I can't...I have to end this," she said, though it damn near killed her to do it.
"But you don't want to," he said almost smugly. "You don't want to end it."
"I don't want to hurt you."
"You are already. What do you want?" he asked.
"I don't want..."
"I don't care about what you don't want." He shook his head and then his blue eyes were boring into her green ones. She still wouldn't answer him. "What do you want!?" he shouted.
She bit the inside of her lip, but it was no use. Fresh tears rolled down her cheeks and she wiped them away hastily. She took a deep breath, and she did what she had to do.
"I want you to kiss me one last time, and then I want you to stop calling me," she said with far more confidence than she actually had. "And I want you to move on."
"Peyton..." He shook his head, and she thought she might have seen an unshed tear in his eye, but he blinked it away.
"Please, Lucas. Just do it, okay?"
"No. It's not okay," he said, placing his hands on her waist and holding her. She closed her eyes and relaxed a little bit, just from having his hands on her. "But if that's what you want, that's what I'll do."
"That's what I want," she promised.
Her breath caught in her throat when he kissed her. It felt like a million things all at once. Like a thank you for ever getting to kiss her at all, and like every emotion from every kiss they ever shared was poured into that kiss times a thousand. It felt like he was saying goodbye, but it felt like he was giving her a glimpse of the promises he could have made; like he was showing her all the things they could have had.
They both wished things were different.
She grabbed her jacket and her bag, and she made her way towards the door with him following behind.
"I'm sorry," she said. He nodded his head, but didn't say anything. "Goodbye, Lucas."
She walked out the door, and he knew he wouldn't be seeing her again. He'd respect her wishes, though he hated that he had to. He hated that he wasn't the one she came home to every day, and the one she honestly talked about having kids with. That he wasn't the one she fell asleep with every night and woke up next to in the morning.
He hated that she'd picked someone else over him.
He noticed her cardigan sitting over the arm of the chair in his living room. It was the last thing he had left of hers. He ran his hand over the black fabric, but he didn't move it. He left it there, then walked out the door.
If there was ever a time to get drunk, that was it.
She wanted him to get over her. He wouldn't have even bothered trying if she hadn't asked him to. He smiled to himself when he realized that she knew him well enough to know that.
----
It was hard for her at first. She wanted to talk to Lucas about every day things, but she reminded herself that she couldn't. She never should have.
She started doing what she should have been doing all along. Any time she had some news to tell someone, or a question to ask, she'd talk to Brad. Any time she had an itch that needed scratching, she'd go to Brad. She became more vocal about what she wanted, and Brad didn't question any of it. Any love she had for Lucas, she transfered into love for Brad.
Well, not exactly.
But she was trying. She tried not to compare them. She stopped critiquing things Brad did to the way Lucas did those same things. Not even physically. The silly, stupid things that she'd let hold so much weight, she stopped caring about. Brad always put the salsa on top of the nachos, while Lucas always had it on the side so the chips didn't get soggy. Brad explained that the soggy chip was helpful, since you could fold it in half and it was easier to bite. That sounded perfect to her. She loved that he'd thought it through. She loved him. She always had.
She realized she shouldn't have had to do any of it, the things she did with Lucas, and that it was her own fault that she had. But it was okay. She'd make it okay.
The guilt started to subside after a while. She was a devoted wife, and any indiscretions in her past were just that - in her past. She allowed herself a clean slate, and while she knew she'd done him wrong, she wouldn't dwell on it. She'd keep that secret and move past it, no matter how hard it was to do sometimes.
She'd hear someone talking about a book she knew Lucas loved, or she'd hear a voice that sounded similar to his, and she'd get a pang of hurt in her chest, thinking about what she'd had with him. That once-in-a-lifetime connection and that love that still (no matter how much she wished it to) wouldn't go away. He had a part of her.
She thought about him every time she had to go to Tree Hill, though she tried to avoid going at all. She wondered if he had someone new, or if he'd started the novel he always told her he was going to write. She wondered if he'd painted his garage like he'd kept putting off, or if he ever retiled the kitchen.
She wondered what he'd done with the sweater she'd forgotten there that night in her haste to get out the door so she wouldn't take it all back.
And still, just every once in a while, she'd wonder if maybe she should have taken it all back.
But it was okay. She could live with that leftover love; that memory of a man who'd shown her how to open up her heart a little more.
Six months after she broke things off with Lucas, she learned she was pregnant. She wasn't scared. She wasn't upset or worried or anything else. She was happy.
There was a little voice in the back of her head, as Brad embraced her with tears of joy on his cheeks, that was asking her how different things could have been if she had been pregnant that other time. But the thought left as quickly as it came. She was having a baby with the love of her life. Her husband. The man she'd chosen (more than once) to spend her life with.
That was a beautiful thing.
She still couldn't help but wish that her baby would have someone else's eyes, someone else's smile.
But it was okay.
But it was never more than just okay.
-Fin-