Hello all! Another update this week? And I don't even have my computer hah. Or schoolwork it would seem. Anyway, I have returned to this angsty thing and that's really the only way I can describe it. If you take the time to read this, I would greatly appreciate your feedback. It seriously helps me as a writer and self-conscious Maddison fan these days. Thanks guys! I hope you enjoy!
This ain't goodbye this is just where love goes,
when words aren't warm enough to keep away the cold.
She's been able to suppress the memories of that evening, convincing herself it was merely a dream. And for the most part it works, the guilt slowly lessens its grip on her heart with each passing day. She begins to tear up or cry less when he does something selflessly kind for her or their daughter. He surmises there's something she's withholding from him, but he would never unwillingly force it out of her. He's more patient than any man she's ever been with. He knows she'll tell him whenever she can, or when she feels comfortable discussing whatever it is that has changed her.
It's not the crying that bothers him; in fact he likes the tears (whether happy or claiming to be) because it shows just how much she cares. And while he vocalizes it more frequently to ease her insecurities, her easily accessible emotions gives him the reassurance he needs in return. They fit together in a way that's convenient. Their lives intertwine easily because of work and more importantly, Rosie. Underneath the sweet gestures and smiles, both of them have a quiet understanding it's because of her they work so well together.
Eleven years pass more swiftly than either parent is ready for. Their once bubbly little girl who was content coating everything with glitter now reserves that sort of glamour to coat her grown out fingernails. Her once curly midnight hair that her mother once fashioned into pigtails was now flecked with caramel streaks and straightened. Her most prized stuffed animals and dolls were now locked away in storage bins while books, jewelry, makeup and electronic devices now littered her room. Beyond the physical distinctions between Rosie their little girl to Rosalie an almost woman, was the distance placed between her and her parents.
She rarely graced them with her presence as music lessons, schoolwork, and social activities with friends began to shape her as independent from mother and father. They support her decisions wholeheartedly and do everything possible to ensure her happiness. But they also have no problem disciplining when she tries to rebel and steps out of bounds from what they deem to be acceptable behavior. This distance from their only child draws them closer as a couple.
And their lives unfold without any serious setbacks that would disrupt the natural flow of their family. For over a decade he does not cross her mind as anything more than just an old friend. Being away from him for eleven years allows her to concentrate on her marriage and raising her daughter to be a respectable young woman. She begins to forget the little things that made them more. The way he unnerved her with a steady gaze full of desire or how her skin felt on fire when he touched her. They are now phantom memories she replaces by being with her husband.
Eleven years of reconnecting, self-discovery and falling in love all over again with everything in Los Angeles. It accounts for eleven Christmas's they travel back to New York so she can get a glimpse of snow and Rosalie can see the ballet company she wants to be join someday. It marks thirty-three birthday's celebrated between the three of them and just as many other significant and less than significant moments linking her to him and Rosalie to both.
It's an unexpected bliss she knows will end someday, but in the meantime she convinces herself she needs to enjoy it while she can. After all, she's learned it is better to take the risk and love him wholeheartedly than not to have any of what he's given her for nearly fifteen years. The risk of this potential loss becomes clearer when she comes home on Friday night and hears two male voices full of laughter trailing from her kitchen and into the foyer of her house.
"Honey?" She sets her keys on the table, kicks off her shoes carelessly, and plops her purse down nearby.
"Addie, is that you?" Jake appears at the end of the hall, beckoning her forward with a wine glass. "You're never going to believe who showed up at the practice today."
She approaches him with a curious expression, rising up on the naked balls of her feet to plant a sweet kiss against his lips. "What are talking about-" She then peers over his shoulder and swallows back the nervous lump forming in her throat as Mark Sloan stands in her kitchen. "Mark," Addison sucks in air, her fingers grazing Jake's as he passes her a drink.
With a cocky grin spreading across his lips, he opens his arms and a clearly stunned Addison steps into them. The wine sloshes in her glass and she laughs softly out of sheer surprise, hoping it hides the uncomfortable tension that is now enveloping them.
She pulls away after an appropriate amount of time, brings her arms out to the side, and chides with a quirked brow. "What the hell are you doing in Los Angeles?"
"It's good to see you too, Red." He can't help but tease her in return. However, she shoots him a warning glance whenever he uses this forbidden namesake so freely in front of her husband.
"Red?" Jake's lips curl into a slight grin, and she sees the hint of mockery crossing his expression.
"Don't," She extends an index finger in his direction, feigning seriousness. "Don't you dare go making fun of me for that."
"I didn't say a word," Jake lifts both hands like he's waving in surrender.
"But you thinking about it," Addison smirks before lifting the wine glass to her lips. "Besides," She swallows and readjusts the front of her blouse self-consciously, "that was a long time ago." Her eyes wander back over to Mark with distinctive meaning in her face.
"Not that long ago, Addie," He returns with a sly half smile.
"Long enough," She counters firmly. Then confusion scrunches her brow and she gestures between both men with her wine glass, "So tell me, why are you standing in my house in L.A., drinking my expensive wine?"
He chuckles in amusement at her, "Well that would be your husband's doing. We ran into each other at the practice and got to talking."
Jake places a hand at the curve in her spine and continues smoothly; "Yeah when Mark said he'd be in town for a few days…well I just know how you're always saying you don't get to see a lot of your old friends anymore." His warm gaze reaches hers, "So I invited him over for drinks tonight, thinking all of us could do that." He looks rather pleased with himself at making an effort with Mark, even after he knows nearly all of the messy history between his wife and her old lover and friend.
The smile loses some of its curve and the brightness of her green eyes fades for a brief instant. "Really now?" She peers back over at Mark, who's still grinning at her in such a smug way that makes her want to smack him. But she manages to restrain her feelings. (She's been doing it for over a decade, what difference is one more night going to make?) Besides, Jake's ability to welcome Mark into their home without any concerns makes her heart swell will even greater feelings for him.
Putting on another one of dazzling airs of complete security and confidence she reaches up to place a hand at the back of Jake's neck and kisses him languidly against the smooth. His arm encircles her further as she rises on tiptoe before she breaks contact. "That was very sweet of you," She commends his decision.
They step away from the hold on one another, but only Addison notices the sad half smile that crosses Mark's lips before Jake claps him on the back and invites him to watch the Kings game. She remains in the kitchen and downs her glass of wine. If she has any hope of coming out of tonight with her life in tact, she's going to need a little help.
She leans on the far left end of the couch, her legs clad in grey sweatpants (she ditched the skirt in a last effort to stall her interaction with Mark & Jake) and pulled in closer to her chest. Jake sits on the opposite end, his arm casually slung over the back of the couch one leg crossed over the other at a ninety degree angle. Mark looks between the pair of them in an adjacent armchair, closer to Addison's side.
They engage in a game of catch up, learning more about one another so as to ease the tension that presents itself. Mark hears all about Rosalie, their miracle baby who is practically a grown woman and Jake's stepdaughter Angelica, who's doing research at the Mayo Clinic. The brief anecdotes and rounds of laughter that surround these aspects of the conversation give him reason to believe they're all happy with the little family they've grown into. Still he sees the nostaligic lingering in the light of her blue eyes, which has him wondering how long it's taken for her to let go of the past and allow herself a future without him.
And similarly to their story Mark adds that he's now a husband to a very pregnant wife, and taking on his role of the father of a teenager with anxiety and stride. This commonality between both men allow them to indulge in humorous stories of how they attempted to frighten off any potential suitors that had eyes for their little girls.
"I can't imagine going through it twice," Mark lifts his glass of wine in a sort of salute to Jake.
He shrugs and muses, "Honestly, the second time around is more fun. You already know what to expect, and therefore feel more confident to torture the boys even more."
"You haven't tortured anyone," Addison retorts smartly. "She hasn't even shown interest in boys yet."
"What about that Brandon kid?" Jake returns with a furrowed brow.
"Oh him," She snorts and flips a hand, "he's just a friend."
"Yeah," Mark inclines his head knowingly, "that's what Sofia said about Will. Next thing I know he's practically mauling my baby girl in the back of a movie theater." He adds when Addison and Jake frown at him in confusion, "I might have followed them."
Addison throws her head back and giggles, "Wow! Someone is finally getting a taste of their own medicine."
"Shut up," Mark grumbles before finishing off another glass of wine.
Jake nods at his wife, "What are you suggesting?"
Addison turns back to Jake and informs him with a wry grin, "You know, Mark might play the role of the faithful husband and stable father right now...but he wasn't always that way."
"Hey," Mark sets down the wine glass on the coffee table and points a finger in her direction, "you weren't always so innocent back in the day, Red."
"Really?" Jake perks up whenever he hears this, sliding over on the couch to close the space between Addison and him. He stares at her in that intense way she finds unnerving, an interested smirk splaying across his mouth. "And here I thought she was the portrait of serious relationships."
Mark can't help but snicker at this as many memories from their medical school days begin to resurface again. "Ha! Before Derek came into the picture, she was known half the campus refered to her as the Heiress Heartbreaker."
"And it wasn't because I slept with any of them and didn't call the next day," She interjects, lifting a hand in her defense before shooting him a pointed glance.
"Then why did they call you that?" Jake wonders out loud.
Mark shifts in his seat and eagerly answers when she doesn't, "Because anyone who came within a file mile radius of her got his nuts clipped off and heart stomped on with those damn heels."
Jake laughs softly at Mark's explanation and Addison's disgruntled face, "You mean you wore those back then too?"
"She was born in those things," Mark chides.
Addison folds her arms in her lap, purses her lips into a frown that is slowly turning more into a smile as she finds comfort in poking fun of herself rather than anything serious. Shaking her head slowly she reminds him, "Just be careful what dirty laundry you decide to air with my husband, Mark. I guarantee you, yours are dirtier."
"Oh Red," He sighs with an ounce of laughter, as if her warning doesn't concern him in the slightest. Mark then turns his attention back to Jake and questions, "Did you hear the one about Def Leppard's karoke night?"
Addison instantly whirls on him, her feet reaching the floor as she scolds him. "No! No! No!"
But this sort of reaction only fans her husband's curiosity. "I haven't," Jake admits and then catches the threatening expression crossing across his wife's face. "But now I'm dying to know all about it."
"Well back in the day," Mark begins.
"No! Mark, you are seriously forbidden from telling that story," Addison reaches out to smack his shoulder, playfully shoving him away.
This doesn't stop him from continuing, "Back in the day when Addison, Derek, Sam, Naomi, and I were all at Columbia, there was this bar called O'Connors."
"O'Connells," The redhead corrects, clearly annoyed. Mark lifts an exasperated brow in her direction to which she continues sullenly, "If you're so intent on telling this story the least you can do is get the name of the bar right."
"Fine," He rolls his eyes at her and then continues to tell her husband. "Anyway, this bar had karoke nights every Tuesday. And the five of us would go there for those nights in between our semesters. We'd all get plastered and then make asses of ourselves by getting up on this makeshift stage they created and singing bad hair metal songs." He pauses to collect his thoughts and then adds, "It wasn't until the end of our second year that Addison finally got the guts to actually participate."
Jake smirks at his wife knowingly.
"And her favorite hair metal song of all time was that song by Def Leppard..." He hesitates and then frowns at Addison, feigning ignorance, "...what was it called again Addison?"
She chews on her bottom lip, eyes casting daggers at him. Finally she relents and mumbles, "'Pour Some Sugar On Me.'"
"Yes," Mark points at her for emphasis, "that God awful song."
"Hey, if I recall you knew all the words at one point in time too." Addison chimes in smartly.
"At one point in time," He repeats for emphasis. "I'm pretty sure you're the only one of us who's committed that trash to memory."
"No way!" She replies haughtily.
"Wait, how does it go?" Jake leans forward into Addison's personal space.
She tilts her face back up at him and lifts a challenging brow. "Do you ever want to have sex again?"
"You've never heard it?" Mark asks in disbelief.
Jake shrugs and then starts to speak song the lyrics, "It went something along the lines of...'Pour some sugar on me, ooh in the name of love. Pour some sugar on me, come on fire me up. Pour your sugar on me, I can't get enough.''"
"Yes!" Mark nods and points a finger at him. Then he extends a finger in Addison's direction and is met with disappoval.
Jake nudges her in the ribs with his elbow, "Come on, Addie. I did the most embarassing part." His lips form a pout.
She rolls her eyes before expelling in breathy tones, "I'm hot, sticky and sweet from my head to my feet." Her cheeks instantly flush scarlet and she buries her giggling face in her hands.
Both men roar with laughter and Mark proceeds to tell Jake how Addison threw up later that evening and he had to carry her to the cab because she couldn't stand. As their laughter dies down and the conversation dwindles, a phone call interupts the somewhat even flow of their evening.
After a couple of minutes, Addison pockets her phone and stands. "That was Rosie," She tells her husband. "She needs to be picked up from the movies." Turning back to Mark, "I'm sorry to cut the evening short but I should get her."
"I'll get her," Jake offers warmly.
"Are you sure?" Addison knits her brow together, hand touching his forearm as he stands at her level.
"Yeah," He assures her. "Besides, someone has to kick Brandon's ass if he gets too handsy on the car ride home."
"Alright," Addison replies in a genuinely soft tone. "But don't do anything stupid. I'm not in the mood to bail you out of jail tonight." She moves forward to steal a kiss from him, their lips fusing together longer than he anticipated.
Once he turns from the room and she hears the front door squeal open and closed, that one moment several years ago is all she can think about.
An awkward silence envelopes them without his mediating presence. She pretends to find interest in the hockey game that has run into over time while all he does is stare at her, trying to find the crack in a seemingly perfect life she's maintained.
She feels his eyes fixating on her and sooner than later the tension is more than she can bear to endure. Her face turns to him and she questions cautiously, "What?"
"He doesn't know does he?"
"Know about what?" She tilts her head to the side, knowing exactly what he's refering to and yet refusing to just confirm what can easily be assumed.
"Us. Back in New York." He states plainly with little emotion, studying her.
Addison asserts, "Oh he knows."
"He does?" Shock pervades his expression and question.
"Yes," She nods and then snickers at his reaction. "For God sakes Mark, Amelia is here. Did you honestly think I could have gotten away with telling him about being married to her brother without him asking any questions about how it ended?"
It takes him a moment to fully comprehend her words, but when he does a sinking sensation overcomes him. She either doesn't remember or has forced herself to forget. Both scenarios hurt more than he cares to show her because their evening has been chalk full of avoidance and he had hoped Jake's departure might have allowed for them to confront the one loose end of their past that remains.
"That's not what I was refering to, Addison."
"Then what were you refering to, Mark?"
"That night at Columbia when I told you I was marrying, Julia?" He prompts, trying to get her to admit to the insinuation he's making.
However she responds dryly, "Yeah, what about it?"
So he settles for the most direct route and states boldly, "We had sex."
Vacancy flickers through her eyes as she mentally searches for the moment in particular he's refering to. And then as realization hits her again she laughs hollowly and rolls her eyes, "Oh, that."
"You never told him about that, did you?"
"No," She chuckles incredulously, "why would I tell him about that, Mark?"
He opens his mouth and tries to formulate a response, but she does a good enough job for the both of them. "It's not like it meant anything. It was just sex."
"Right," He tries to play it off with the same indifference that she is. But under her guise of hollow laughter and concise retorts he sees the underlying fear catch when she shifts positions on the couch and tries to turn the course of the conversation. "Because that's all it ever was for us." The anger drips in his words, but he doesn't care. Why should he even try to hide his emotions? He owes her nothing, consideration the least of all things.
Her eyes snap back to him and hone in on his emotions. He's struck a nerve she's managed to numb without him constantly being around to stimulate it. Addison retorts sharply, "Did you tell Julia? Because something tells me if you had, that band on your left finger wouldn't exist."
She's right and he suddenly hates the everything about her in that moment. The validity of her statement, the implications that entail his facade of happiness, and the power she still holds over his heart after all these years. He responds aggressively, "Yeah well, I wasn't married back then. You had a husband and a fucking daughter."
Rage erupts over her face, her bluish eyes turning icy as she leaps to her feet with hands balled into fists at her side. "Get. Out."
He doesn't move, the satisfaction tugging at his smug expression at the guilt he's stirred up inside of her. "How old was she then? Just about two? Three?"
"I said get out of my house!"Stamping her feet and now shouting she points in the direction of the front door.
He jumps at the unexpected display of her anger, but isn't afraid of her. The worst she's ever done to him is throw a plate from her china cupboard at his forehead when she discovered his many infidelities during their two month stint. Screaming and physical injuries did not startle him or force him to shy away from her. It was something much worse than that.
And as he slowly stands, his gaze unwavering from hers, she displays the one weapon that always destroyed him. The filmy liquid forming along the edges of her blue orbs begins to gather so quickly that it soon spills out onto her cheeks. Those silent tears would haunt him forever if nothing else about her would. He wants to pull her into his arms and make them disappear underneath his calloused thumbs. But he resists the urge because it's no longer his right to make her feel better about the one thing she's tried to keep buried for so long.
He tears his remorseful jade eyes away from hers and mutters practically incoherently, "Goodbye Addison."
She swallows back the sobs that threaten to spill forth at hearing the sadness in his voice, even though he's the first one who hit below the belt. He passes by her swiftly, causing the air nearby her shoulder to stir. Addison pivots on the spot and watches his retreating figure hastily shuffling towards her front door. The salty liquid collects on her long lashes, painting black lines of mascara down her face.
He reaches the front door and violently swings the door open before letting it slam against its shaky frame. Her body trembles as the vibrations reach her from the next room and she finds herself whispering hoarsely to no one in particular, "Goodbye."