Chapter Four

Bridget's POV:

Bridget closed the last drawer and stowed her now empty bag in the walk-in closet. She was officially moved back in. Not in the way she was before, since this was the guest bedroom, but she was here and Andrew and Juliet were just down the hall.

They had decided to put finding Siobhan on hold until tomorrow so they could get settled. Looking around the luxury surrounding her, she was relieved to not see tattered 70's décor. It was strange to think that these expensive surroundings had become 'normal' to her, more normal than fleabag motels. Speaking of, she needed to call Solomon and let him know about her change in circumstances, even as temporary as they were. Pulling out her cell she dialed his number. He didn't answer so she left a voicemail.

"Well, you won't believe where I am right now. I'm back at the apartment. Don't get your hopes up. Andrew and Juliet asked me to come back so I could help them find Siobhan. Which they want to start first thing tomorrow, so don't worry about coming over tonight. I know you have to work tomorrow, so I will call you later and let you know if I find anything. Thanks for helping me with this. You have no idea how much it means to have you on my side. Talk to you tomorrow." She hung up.

Flopping back on the bed, she contemplated the ceiling. This situation wouldn't last. It was just as temporary as before. She couldn't get too used to it. Her life would be back up in the air once all of this was done, so she wouldn't settle into this life. It wasn't hers'.

A knock had her sitting up. "Come in," she called.

Juliet poked her head through the open door. "Do you have a minute?"

"For you? Absolutely." She patted the bed next to her, and Juliet came over and sat down. They faced each other with smiles.

"I just wanted to say that I was glad you decided to come back with us."

"Thank you for having me. I know it can't be easy."

Juliet smiled. "That is the truly strange part. It is easy. I could never see you as Siobhan and knowing you are Bridget actually makes it easier. I was never fully convinced that Siobhan had changed, and I was right because you aren't her. Thank God," she said.

Bridget laughed. She couldn't help it. Juliet was so strong minded that she never thought she would be able to earn her forgiveness, let alone have it without having to work long and hard to earn it.

"No, I'm not her, but I'd like you to try and believe something. The Siobhan you knew isn't the girl I grew up with." She paused. "She changed when her son died."

Juliet's mouth dropped. "Siobhan had a son?"

"Yes, his name was Sean."

Twenty minutes later Juliet had the whole story and Bridget was afraid to look in her eyes. She was afraid to see reproach for Bridget's own part in Sean's death, and Siobhan's descent into madness. Madness was the only way to explain the extensively elaborate plan she wrote them all into. Finally, no longer able to put off the inevitable, she looked up and found she didn't have to worry.

Juliet reached over and hugged her tight, and Bridget felt a weight lift.

"That must have been so hard for you. Losing your nephew, your sister, and blaming yourself." She pulled back and wiped away a tear of her own. "It wasn't your fault. I hope you know that."

Bridget tried to, and there were times, like sitting with Juliet, when she thought she was almost there but there were others, like telling Andrew about it at the Hampton's, when she thought her own forgiveness was forever away.

"I wanted to tell you about Sean, so you knew why Siobhan did what she did to me," Bridget explained.

"Look, I understand that losing her son changed her, but that is no excuse for the things she has done. Doing the things she did was a choice she made. She wasn't forced to do it."

Bridget felt that legitimacy of what Juliet said. It was true, and it amazed her that Juliet had such insight for being as young as she was. Losing Sean wasn't an excuse, and Bridget needed to stop using it as an explanation for what Siobhan has done. The truth was something twisted inside her sister the day he died and instead of figuring out how to untwist herself. Instead, she cultivated the anger and desire for revenge until it warped her entire world.

She needed help. Bridget only hoped they could find her before she was past the point of reason though a part of her feared they were already too late.

"Anyway, let's stop talking about her." Juliet smiled hopefully. "I wanted to see if you would make dinner with me."

Bridget lifted her brows. "You want to cook?"

Juliet laughed. "Yes. You said you could teach me a couple of months ago, and I want to take you up on it."

Warmth filled Bridget's chest. "I would love to."

They both got off the bed and strolled arm in arm to the kitchen.

"So, what did you want to make?"

Andrew's POV:

Andrew stepped off the penthouse elevator and walked through the apartment. After getting Bridget settled he had left to handle a crisis at the office. It hadn't taken long, but a part of him wished it had. The apartment had been so quiet and tense before he left, that he didn't relish coming home to that. After stowing his briefcase in the study he loosened his tie and heard voices floating from the kitchen. Curious he followed the sounds of laughter.

"Ew, Bridget, this is disgusting."

He walked to the doorway, and his mouth dropped as he saw Bridget laugh while Juliet put seasonings between the skin and meat of a whole chicken. This was the last thing he thought he would ever see, Juliet learning to cook.

"I think I'm going to gag," Juliet cried and Andrew smiled.

"You aren't going to gag," Bridget assured her.

"Ugh, it's so slimy," Juliet shrieked.

Bridget laughed harder.

"Okay, okay, I got it." Juliet rubbed in the last of the seasonings before she whipped her hands out of the chicken and stared in horror at her gooey fingers. "This is revolting!"

She ran to the sink and scrubbed her hands clean as Bridget giggled.

"If you think that is bad you should try cutting the chicken into pieces and taking off the skin."

Juliet swallowed hard. "I think I just became a vegetarian."

Bridget guffawed just as she noticed Andrew in the doorway. Her laughter faded until only a smile could be seen in her eyes.

"Hello," Bridget said.

"Hi, Daddy. Bridget's teaching me how to cook and turning me into a vegetarian in the process."

Bridget rolled her eyes. "Just wait until it starts cooking, the smell will change your mind back, I promise."

Juliet shrugged. "How was work? Everything okay?" she asked her father.

"It is now. So, you are learning how to cook?" He narrowed his eyes playfully. "Should I have poison control's number handy?"

"Daddy!" Juliet smacked his shoulder.

"I'm just kidding, sweetheart. I'm sure it will be amazing."

"It definitely will," Bridget assured him loyally.

"Would you like to help?" Juliet asked.

"Uh, sure." He removed his suit jacket, hung it on the back of a chair, and stepped forward rubbing his hands together. "What are we having?"

"Roast chicken, new potatoes, and asparagus, a simple recipe for a first cooking lesson."

"Sounds delicious, what should I do?"

"Why don't you scrub," she handed him a bowl of potatoes, "these."

He took the bowl and set to work.

Juliet washed asparagus while Bridget put the chicken in the convection oven. It would be done in half the time. They worked as a team, and it was comfortable, much to Andrew's surprise.

He spent the day dreading when he would have to go home. He was sure the evening would be filled with silence, and instead he came home to laughter. He let Bridget and Juliet's chatter wash over him as he cut the newly washed potatoes.

Soon the meal was ready to eat. Juliet mixed up non-alcoholic sangria in the kitchen as Bridget and Andrew set the table.

They moved together from place to place. She set a plate down just as he put down the silverware, their fingers brushed. They looked at each other and then away. His hand was still warm where her fingers brushed against it.

The tension between them sizzled and made Andrew uncomfortable with longing for a time that was gone. He wished he had met Bridget long before Siobhan. He could have fallen in love with her from the beginning. Then he and Juliet wouldn't have been lied to or betrayed and they would be together, happy and content.

He set the last of the silverware and followed Bridget's shapely behind into the kitchen. They gathered the food and set it out. As they took their places he listened to Juliet prattle on about cooking. She seemed to think it was pretty easy, other than the chicken, which wasn't hard, just gross. She liked baking the pie they made before Andrew got home. She thought she would like to learn how to make cookies or something like that.

He listened to them discuss what Bridget could teach her, and he felt the ice surrounding his heart thaw a bit, and he desperately tried to harden it. The situation was temporary, and he didn't want to delve in any deeper. Doing so was a recipe for more heartache.

He felt his happy mood dampen a bit but tried his best to keep up the façade for Juliet's sake. It bothered him that she seemed to forgive Bridget so fully, but he was a fool to think she would take it slow, when his daughter made up her mind about something, good luck changing it. He would just have to be there for her when Bridget broke her heart again.

Even as he thought it, he didn't fully believe his own sentiment. Juliet's words back in the Hampton's haunted him even more now that they were back in the city.

"All I know is she never lied in the way she behaved."

It struck him more fully now that she was here. She was exactly the same as he remembered, with the exception of her name and he was more confused than ever. His feelings were at war, and he knew one side needed to win before he was torn in two.

Dinner was finished, and they cleared the table. Bridget convinced Juliet that she should learn to do dishes, and he left them to it. He needed time to think.

Bridget's POV:

Night settled over the apartment, and Bridget found herself restless. Juliet was asleep, and Andrew had disappeared after dinner.

Hugging a blanket around her shoulders, she stepped out onto the terrace and breathed in the cool evening air. A slight breeze lifted the hair from her neck, and she shivered but she didn't go back in. Walking forward she leaned against the balcony and took in the city. Buildings and life lit the night sky as far as her eye could see. It was a galaxy of shape and sound where nothing seemed to exist past its borders. She felt alone, and yet when she looked out over the city she knew she had company in her loneliness, and that contradiction held her in comfort.

A sound on the right startled her. Whipping her head around she found herself gazing into Andrew's eyes. He sat on a wrought iron chair with a glass of brandy in his hand. Apparently, he had come out here after dinner. She thought he had left the apartment.

He didn't say anything. He only studied her while she returned his gaze. After a few moments she turned back to the city as she spoke.

"I'm sorry. I didn't realize you were out here. I thought you had gone out."

"I needed some time to myself."

She nodded. She could understand why he would need that time. He had the woman he despised sleeping under his roof, and pretending to be his wife, once again. Though it was his idea to continue the charade she couldn't imagine he liked it very much. "Well, I'll leave you to it." She turned to leave, but his voice stopped her.

"I don't trust you."

She knew he wouldn't, but knowing that didn't stop the pain she felt at his words. "I know."

"I understand why you did what you did. I thought you should know that I get why you did it, but I'm still angry."

"I realize this can't be easy for you. To have to occupy the same living space as the woman who lied to you in the most private of ways. It's a lot to ask, and if you want me to go I will. I don't want to hurt you."

"It's too late for that."

She swallowed hard and looked out over the lonely souls of the city. "I know. I don't have an excuse. It was selfish, and I'm sorry."

Anger lit his face. "You're sorry?" He jumped up, set his brandy glass on the table, and stomped over to her.

She turned to face him head-on.

"You're sorry? I don't want to hear how sorry you are. I want to know why. Why did you come here and be you? Why didn't you behave like Siobhan? You were lying about everything else, why didn't you at least be true to her character? If you had we wouldn't have fallen in love with you. I wouldn't have felt my entire world implode when I found out my wife cheated on me. I would have been happy to have an excuse to divorce her. Why did you have to be loving and sweet? Why did you have to care so much and cook for us?" He gripped her upper arms. "Why did you make me love you? Did you not care that when the truth came out, you would shatter my heart? Why?"

Tormented she shook her head. What could she say, that she hadn't already said? He knew why she became Siobhan. He knew why she kept her true identity a secret. So she said the only thing she could. "I love you. I love Juliet. I kept up the charade because I didn't want to die, and I didn't want to leave you." She wiped away the tears as she gazed into his angry face, and for the first time since the truth came out her own anger rose. "It was selfish, I know that, I hurt you both so much, but I hurt, too!" she yelled into his face as tears continued to pour from her eyes. "Don't you understand that? The truth came out, and you felt betrayed, angry and hurt, but so did I. I planned to tell you myself that evening because I thought what we felt for each other was stronger than the lies, only Tim Arboghast beat me to it. I wasn't going to let the lies continue because I couldn't bear lying to you and Juliet!"

"I guess we will never know if that is the truth," he said bitterly.

"No!" she yelled. "You may never know because you don't trust me, but I know. Hell, even Solomon knows because he tried to talk me out of telling the truth. Bodaway was still out there, and he wanted me dead. He said being Siobhan was the only protection I had, and if you couldn't accept it, then Bodaway would find me and kill me, but I told him that it didn't matter. I was going to tell you and Juliet. I even made dinner so I could tell you both." She laughed humorlessly. "Only that was the night you read me your vows, and I couldn't do it. I didn't want to ruin such a beautiful evening. So, no, you will never know if this is the truth, but I do. Maybe it was already too late, and we would be exactly where we are now, or maybe my telling you would have been the one thing to keep us together, but that we will never know, and that will always haunt me." She turned away from him. "Maybe I should face the facts. You really only loved her."

Hugging her blanket tighter she closed her eyes against her biggest fear.

"The night you were shot at the loft, you said that you would fight for us because you thought what we had was worth the pain. Obviously, you were talking about Siobhan and you, not you and me."

Her anger fled with the last statement and sadness replaced it. Turning she walked back into the house.

Andrew's POV:

Andrew watched Bridget turn back to the apartment while his insides warred. Her words, so filled with sadness, struck him. That night at the loft he thought he lost her because of his own lies, and he told her he wouldn't give up. He wanted her forgiveness and would have done anything to get it.

He looked inside himself and realized what a huge hypocrite he was. He was so focused on her lies, that he forgot his own. He spent months covering up the ponzi scheme, and he hurt her with the lies, but she learned to forgive him.

Juliet said it best. She may have lied about her name, but she never hid who she really was, and it wasn't her name he loved. He couldn't love her just for her name. It was ludicrous. The Siobhan he married was a good actress who made him believe he had married the woman of his dreams only it had been a lie. The acting wore thin, and her true colors were revealed. He quickly found that she wasn't the woman he thought he fell in love with. It wasn't until Bridget took her place that his hope was renewed and nurtured because suddenly the woman of his dreams was the woman he was sleeping next to, the woman he was raising his daughter with, the woman he held in his arms. The ice around his heart melted, and it began to warm.

He rushed forward and grabbed her arm, spinning her to face him. Her shocked face looked up to his.

Without thought he pulled her forward and caught her face between his hands. His lips devoured her.

It was like coming home.

He sank into the kiss, threading his hands through her silken hair. She returned his kiss for a moment before she shook her head and pushed him away.

"No!" she panted while holding her hand to her mouth. "No, I'm not her. You're drunk, and I'm not Siobhan."

"I'm not drunk," he said calmly. "I know who you are, Bridget."

She looked at him with her mouth hanging open, and he used that opportunity to continue. Stepping forward, he pulled her into his arms and slowly lowered his mouth to hers giving her ample opportunity to protest, but she didn't. She stood perfectly still and let his lips find her. Burying his hands in her hair he deepened the kiss and took everything he missed, her breath, her smell, her love, all of it.

He could no longer deny this one thought. She was his. It no longer mattered that she lied. It didn't matter who she used to be. All that mattered was she made him a better person. She made them all better. A universe needed a center, and she was their sun. Her strength kept them together and warmed them. He couldn't thrive without her. He would just wither away.

He pulled her closer as his anger faded. His love grew brighter, and he felt her arms wrap around him as her lips matched his. He slowed the tempo of the caress and kissed her cheeks, her chin, her nose, then pulled back to look into her eyes.

Those green orbs held everything he ever wanted to see, happiness, contentment, trust and love. So much love shined from their depths, he was temporarily humbled. It was amazing how much could change in such a small amount of time.

His head spun with the suddenness of his newest decision. The words he said to her at the loft the night he was shot were true. He did think that what they had was worth the pain. She was worth it. They were far from reuniting fully, but he knew he wasn't ready to give her up. She made him happy, and until he knew he could never trust her he would work to save what they had, because it was worth the pain.

"That was unexpected," she whispered.

"You can say that again." He pulled her forward and hugged her close. "I once asked you that if all of this," he gestured to the apartment, "went away would you stand with me. You said you would." He pulled away and looked into her eyes. "It meant so much to me that you did. When I told you I loved you I meant it and I realize now that even with the lies and pain we have something worth fighting for, and I want to fight."

Tears slipped down from her hopeful gaze.

"It will take time to build the trust in our relationship, but I would like to try if you think you can."

She nodded. "I want that more than anything."

"If we do this, we need to agree to no more secrets between us. Not for any reason. The truth is hard, but any more lies will break us. Can you promise that?"

"Yes," she said without hesitation. "Can you?"

"Yes."

They sealed their agreement with a kiss.