House let Cuddy pass them as he knew he'd get more information out of Wilson at the moment, "What happened?"
"He was here." Wilson muttered urgently.
"When?" House turned to him, his blue eyes wide.
"Just now, he just left."
House limped outside where he found it spitting rain. In the lot, he saw a man, the very epitome of tall, dark, and handsome as he got into a car and drove off, swerving. Wilson had followed House as they stayed beneath the protective covering of the hall overhang. They both watched the black chevy drive out of sight.
"He looked drunk."
"I think he was." Wilson answered.
"Why did he leave?"
"He saw me and got all squirrely, backed off and just left."
House narrowed his eyes, unbelieving, "Who the hell is that?" He asked, pointing with his cane.
"She called him Nigel."
"He looks like he should be painted on the front of one of those cheesy Romance Novels and his name is Nigel?" House commented, going back inside, "Tough break. Another brandy?" He said offhandedly, changing the subject.
Wilson gave him a look and followed.
"What?" House asked when he saw Wilson's skeptical eyes on him.
"You're not concerned?" Wilson tested.
"Why should I be?"
"The only reason you wouldn't be is if you truly feel threatened. Anything serious happens and you flee."
"I don't feel threatened, she kicked him out."
"You don't feel curious?" Wilson probed.
"I respect her privacy."
"No, you don't." Wilson called him out, "You're scared. I would be too."
"So she has a secret handsome guy following her around, she can handle it. She's a big girl. If I go around pushing around any guy that bothers her, it will seem like I don't trust in her ability to fight her own battles." House stated before walking away, leaving Wilson to look after him, frustrated.
Cuddy avoided them both the rest of the evening and House only grew more brooding until he finally just left. Wilson sighed, knowing that if they simply spoke opening to one another, this problem would not be a problem. As the evening was drawing to a close, and last call was announced, Wilson ordered a glass of white wine and a brandy. He approached Cuddy, who was standing alone at the other end of the bar, and handed her the wine. She thanked him, but would hardly look at him.
"You should talk to him." He said, gently.
"I know." She said, much to his surprise.
"You said that guy wasn't coming back."
"I know." She repeated, her voice distracted, "I didn't think he was."
It was then that Wilson realized that she was freaked out by what had happened. She had covered it so well that he hadn't noticed before, "Are you OK?"
"Yes." She said with conviction, which made Wilson think it was feigned.
"Do you want to talk about it?" Cuddy gave him a look and he put his hands up in surrender, "This time, I'm just genuinely concerned."
She sighed, "I haven't seen him in years."
"Who is he?"
"Old flame."
"What does he want?"
Cuddy looked away, "Doesn't matter, he isn't going to get it."
After the charity event, Cuddy went home and called House. He didn't answer. Sitting on her bed, she sighed as she held the phone on her lap after the voicemail message came up. He probably felt shut out, she knew, but this history was not something she thought would come back. Wishing he would have answered the phone, she placed it on her nightstand and turned out the light.
Outside, the same Chevy that House and Wilson had watched drive away was sitting down the block, facing Cuddy's house. Rain bounced off of the hood. It's lights were dark and it wasn't running, but the flare of a match lit the driver's side and a chiseled face for a brief moment as a cigarette was lit.
House watched the phone ring as Cuddy's name, or rather the name that showed up when she called, Hotlips, came up on his display. He picked it up and almost hit the Accept Call button. Before he decided to, however, it stopped ringing. He had to sort out how he felt about this first, he knew, but needed more information. He knew he should have answered the phone.
