Well we have reached the end of this fic, my friends. I was only planning on having four chapters of this story anyway, with the possibility for a fifth. But I think right now I am satisfied with how I ended things here. So I hope you have enjoyed this reading mini-series as much as I have enjoyed writing it. Thank you so much for everything!
"Oh no, this ain't goodbye it's not where our story ends
But I know you can't be mine, not the way you've always been."
Most people believe time heals all wounds, but Addison knows better than to buy into the cliché. The scars she's been carrying her entire life are invisible to most of the world. She conceals the damage done to her heart, by smiling and making new memories with her husband. And for the most part, he makes her forget about the wounds inflicted by other men.
But it's not always easy. They argue over trivial matters and clearly have different ideas of how to parent a sixteen year old. Whatever their differences though, Addison can count on one hand the number of times Jake's actually broken her heart. She doesn't dare count out the times when it might easy to reveal she could break his too. In fact, she doesn't even think about heartache or the betrayal anymore.
As time wears on between her last altercation with the man she once slept with during the course of her marriage, she begins to forget the finer details about him or the entire escapade. It becomes easier to convince herself they were drunk and it stopped before anything could go to far. Any remaining fragments of memory that would contradict this way of thinking are dismissed as part of a very lucid dream. So the guilt works its way out, Addison dedicates the rest of her social life to maintaining a loving marriage and raising her daughter to be a strong, independent young woman.
Their bond as mother and daughter has certainly been tested in more recent years. But Addison surmises it's just that particular phase when a young girl blames everything possible on her mother for no apparent cause or reason. Some days she recognizes the bright-eyed girl who raves about earning the highest score on her Honors English research paper while simultaneously being the only sophomore invited to take an advanced placement Biology class. Other days she furrows her brow, and snaps at her mother how impossible it would be to follow in her footsteps. Rosie's moods vary, depending on her day at school or at ballet class.
Addison tries not to take it personally, Jake often reminds her this is only a phase and that all girls come back to their mothers once they fully mature. His point of comparison makes logical sense to her, but never having the opportunity to experience this sort of relationship with her own mother makes it difficult for her to believe in this. Still, she holds onto the hope he offers like its one of her most prized possessions and wishes for a meaningful conversation with Rosalie when she returns home each day.
Three planned cesareans, one bilateral hysterectomy, and a particularly sad stillbirth delivery comprise up an entire day that Addison tries to forget about when stepping in the door. She's not going to put up much of a fight this evening if that's what her sixteen year old has in mind, she'll let her husband handle that and explain her reasons for it later.
She strolls through the dimly lit kitchen, not even realizing her daughter curled up on the couch in the corner right away. A sudden rustling of paper startles her however; Addison clutches the fabric at her chest and soon relaxes when her eyes meet caramel brown ones lined with anxiety.
"Oh Rosie, I didn't see you there honey." She remarks breathlessly, still trying to get over that fit of momentary terror. "How was your day?" Addison tries hopefully.
"Ok," She shrugs before turning her attention back to the papers in front of her.
Addison nods in reply; thinking at least a half-hearted response is better than a bitter sounding one. She then fishes a wine glass out of the top cabinet before scouring the inside of the refrigerator for an already open bottle of red wine. The drink swishes against the bottom of her glass and Addison swirls it around in the air in front of her nose momentarily. She takes a sip, the bottle, and turns to leave her daughter alone when something unexpected happens.
"Mom?" The teenager pipes up hesitantly.
Addison instantly halts and pivots to face her daughter, "Yes, sweetheart?"
She notices the inward wrestling of thoughts, as if there's something Rosie wants to say but the words can't come easily. Her lips contort to the side of her face and she rolls her teeth against the bottom half uncertainly. Brown sugar eyes light up and fade several times in succession until the young girl finally decides to take a leap and say what is on her mind. "I got accepted into Pacific Northwest," A nervous smile crosses her mouth and she laughs softly at herself before dipping her face to the floor.
In this instant, Addison feels like she's glancing into a mirror. A younger version of herself telling Bizzy of a fantastic accomplishment that awards recognition now sits cross-legged in her living room, and she seeks to correct the mistakes her mother made.
"What? Sweetheart that's fantastic!" She bubbles over with excitement.
Rosie's face lifts back up again and relief washes away any anxieties that may have formerly plagued her.
Addison deposits the half full wine glass and bottle on the counter and beckons her forward. "Come here," She opens her arms, walking to the edge of the step separating living room and kitchen. Rosie meets her halfway and hugs onto her middle. The seventeen year old feels the pressure of her mother's lips at the top of her head and squeezes tighter.
After the allotted amount of time passes, Addison tugs back on her shoulders and beams brightly at her daughter. "I am so happy for you," She tells her, patting Rosie's cheek reassuringly.
"Thanks," The girl with long raven hair shrugs with a slight smile.
Addison takes her hands and then says, "Now tell me everything about Pacific Northwest again."
"Well," Rosie thinks of a good place to begin, "it's known for having some of the tallest dancers in the country, and the training facilities are state of the art. And it's close by…so you and Dad don't have to fly me across the entire country. It's just in Seattle."
Addison feels her heart tugging back in that forbidden direction again, but forces herself to focus on what Rosie is saying about how this will afford her to pursue an actual career doing what she loves most.
He stands on the back deck of their house, watching the city lights twinkle against the blackness of the midnight sky. If it weren't for the distinct buildings in the distance, he could be living on the outskirts of any major city. Sometimes he pretends it's the city where he first fell in love, other times he accepts it for the place where he found his wife. Whatever place he's imagining, he's made a nightly routine of admiring the skyline with a cigarette balanced carefully between two fingers.
It was an old habit, one he's suddenly brought back from his medical school days. He's not necessarily proud of it now that he is a father and a role model to a lost teenage girl and an insightful little boy. But it's his mistake; one he hopes doesn't make him sound like too much of a hypocrite in the eyes of his children. His wife isn't too pleased with this decision, forcing him into a cleansing ritual before bed each night that makes him itch for another. However flawed he might be, there are pieces of him that still love her after all these years. So he complies with these meager requests she makes, hoping it'll be enough.
He hears the door slide open, jumps slightly and turns his head to see the lovely redhead leaning against the doorframe. Her silk robe trails open in the breeze, her lips pouting as if suggesting she misses him more than he misses his alone time.
"You coming up soon?" She wonders lightly, drumming her fingers against the frame of the door.
Mark breathes out tendrils of white smoke, nodding his head. "Yeah just give me ten more minutes."
She offers a soft smile before sliding the door back into place, leaving him alone to his thoughts. And even though it isn't the safest place for him to be, he stares out at the millions of glowing pinpricks of light and imagines maybe someday that might change.
Their skills as a parental unit are tested whenever both of them become aware that Rosie's love for dance outweighs her academic drive. It's an issue both of them remain divided on after weeks of heated debates sprang up in the household. Addison rules in favor for allowing Rosie to take a chance that her mother would shoot her dead for even considering. While Jake rules that going to college should be his daughter's primary focus. The verdicts are surprising, even to one another. Given Addison's prestigious academic career, Jake assumed she would back him on this decision. And given his deterrence from college for a few years, she thought he wouldn't mind their daughter doing the same.
"Oh come on, Jake. She'll never know if we don't let her try," Addison reasons, crawling over to his side of the bed and wrapping her legs behind him. Her hands reach up to knead the tightness in his shoulders she can see building as he's losing ground on the issue.
He jerks away from her hands and stands. Running a hand through his hair he begins pacing along the length of their bed. "This isn't right. You know it's not right. Not for our daughter."
She gapes at him and scrunches her brow; "It makes her happy."
"Yeah right now it makes her happy," He rounds on her and asks pointedly. "But what about fifteen years from now when she can barely sit up straight or needs a knee replacement? How happy do you think she'll be then, Addison?"
She rolls her eyes at him and shakes her head slowly. "You know for someone who claims he wants to do everything he can to make his family happy, you sure have a funny way of showing it."
Jake points a hand in her direction and counters, "Well for someone who's had a trust fund their entire life that could pay for five kids to go to college, I don't expect you to understand."
"So try and help me understand," Addison brings her arms out to the side in exasperation. "Because all you've done ever since she found out about this opportunity is tell her she can't go until she finishes college. And any counter argument she's brought up that seems legitimate you've shot down without really even considering it so…" Her voice strains momentarily, fingers catching at the fabric of his gym shorts, "…tell me why you really don't want her to do this."
He stops pacing. Letting out a heavy sigh, he collapses on the bed beside her. His hands run along the top of his thighs before he turns to explain the reasoning behind his resistance. "You know what I went through when my mother died. You know what I had to do in order to ensure my family was taken care of. It wasn't easy, Addison. It was a constant struggle for survival. I know how cruel the world can be to people who don't have enough to get by. And I…" He looks away, "…I just can't let her go through that. I don't want her to know that type of struggle. The reason I worked so hard for everything in my life was for her to be something more. I want her to have more than I ever could have. And she's not going to have that if she chooses to be a dancer in Seattle, instead of a pre-med student at Stanford."
"Jake, she's not a little girl anymore," Addison places a hand in his lap, her voice smooth as she continues. "We can't protect her from the realities of the real world anymore. If we deny her the right to follow her dreams, not only will she be miserable but she'll also resent us. And I will not have Rosie hating me like I hated my own mother."
"Yeah well, your mother just wanted what was best for you. And you turned out brilliantly."
"Well I was lucky enough that what was best for me, actually made me happy. She's not going to be happy in school. Not now. Not if we force her to go there. She won't excel." Addison squeezes his thigh, leaning forward in an effort to capture his gaze.
He looks back into her emerald eyes full of insistence. After a few seconds of silent communication he nods and replies solemnly, "You're right. I hate to admit it, but you are."
"Of course I am," She winks at him.
He chuckles in amusement at her and nudges her shoulder playfully, which in turn causes her to nudge him back. "Come here," Jake growls while grabbing both of her shoulders and pinning her back down on the bed.
"Oh!" She giggles as they tumble back against the sheets. "What are you doing?" But they don't have much else to say whenever he silences her with his lips.
He's been working longer hours more frequently, and she's beginning to take notice. She brings it up in arguments how their five year old doesn't understand why Daddy isn't home as much as he used to be. And he starts wondering if it's because he loves Sofia more or if it's something he did to make Daddy angry. That's when Mark begins to notice how much he's pulled away from those who care about him most. He sees how much it hurts them, and he knows he needs to make more of an effort because they've been more than patient with him.
So he picks five-year-old Caleb up early from daycare one afternoon, and feels his whole world light up when the little boy with strawberry blonde hair bounds across the parking lot with arms outstretched in celebration. The enthusiasm is infectious to the point where Mark chases after him, hoists his son over his shoulder, and spins him around three times fast.
"Daddy whoa! I can see straight," He whines with a goofy, gaped tooth grin.
"Well it's a good thing your Mom's an eye doctor," Mark teases as he fastens him into the car seat, ruffling his hair. "She'll be able to fix your crazy eye for you."
He giggles at this and sticks his tongue out in mock defiance before the car pulls away from the hospital, and in the direction of the park. After several minutes they finally arrive and find a free patch of land to play catch on. Mark fits him for a glove, shows him where to put his fingers on the baseball, and simulates a follow through motion for him. It takes Caleb a few tries until the ball actually goes anywhere. But when it flies through the air for at least a foot he cheers excitedly, Mark chuckles and rushes towards him with a palm lifted in the air for a high five.
"Good job buddy!" He pats him on the shoulder, squeezing it reassuringly.
"It went this far, Daddy!" Caleb resounds while spreading his arms as wide as they go to emphasis the distance as best as he can.
Mark cracks a grin and nods, "Yeah, you're a real natural, kid."
They keep up this same level of energy for at least a half hour, and then it's obvious Caleb's growing increasingly bored, so Mark suggests they head home. On the car ride home, Caleb chats animatedly about how awesome it was to get to play ball with his Daddy because Mommy tried to show him but isn't a very good teacher. Mark assures his son they can make it a regular thing because guy time is important.
As they step into the door, Julia is already cooking something that smells heavenly. Caleb rushes to her side, nearly knocking her down as he runs into her legs. "Mommy, Mommy we played catch!"
"I can see that," She notes with a playful smile as the dirt and grime is evident over her son's face and clothes. "Why don't you go upstairs and take a bath real quick?"
The dislike for his mother's suggestion crosses his face and he's about to whine and mope about how he doesn't need a bath.
But Mark steps in to avoid any further conflict, "Come on Caleb, you better do as your mother says." He stoops down to mutter in his ear, "We can't go out for ice cream later if you aren't clean."
The little boy's face lights up at the suggestion and he takes off in the direction of the stairs.
Julia chuckles in amusement, shaking her head slowly while stirring something in a pot.
He steps forward and wraps his arms around her waist, chin resting on top of her shoulder. "What are you making?"
A smile finds its way to her lips, "Spaghetti with homemade meatballs."
Mark plants a chaste kiss at her cheek before nibbling on her earlobe, "Jesus, I don't know how you find time to do everything that you do."
She shies away from his touch and tells him with a despondent sigh, "Well I haven't had to take care of my husband in quite sometime, you know?"
Mark leans against the counter so he can look more directly at her face, "I'm sorry Jules. I know I've been working a lot more lately, it's just with Avery's residency coming to a close and this clinical trial…things have been kind of hectic."
His wife nods mutely as if pretending to understand.
"Hey," He reaches for her shoulder, forcing her pale sea green eyes to meet his, "things are going to lighten up for me soon. I promise." He waits until she seems to agree with his words before fishing two slips of paper from his back pocket, "So someone gave these to me because I mentioned my wife has a thing for art. And I've been a poor excuse of a husband lately so I mentioned something about wanting to throw her a romantic weekend getaway."
Julia glances up from the pot interestedly, snatches the tickets from his hand, and bubbles over with excitement. "These are tickets to see Pacific Northwest's Cinderella?"
"Uh-huh," Mark nods with a sheepish grin.
"Oh my God, Mark! We're going to the ballet?"
"Yeah," He confirms. "And then we're going to stay in downtown Seattle for the evening in one of the most expensive hotels."
She jumps into his arms out of excitement and plants a soft kiss against his lips. He smiles back at her, feeling good about making her happy for once despite the circumstances of how he's achieved it.
Addison sits on a bench in the reception area of the theater, sipping a glass of white wine while flipping through the pages of her program until she sees her daughter's headshot and brief biography amongst the other professionals in the company. It's surreal to have a celebrity of some sort in the family, and her heart races with nothing short of pride.
After a few moments alone, she feels a warm hand rustling the fabric of her royal blue wrap dress at the curve of her back. A pair of lips presses against the sensitive spot behind her ear, and his warm breath lingers in a manner that creates chills to run up and down her arms.
A teasing smile splits her plum stained lips, "You know you really shouldn't do that. My husband will be back from the restroom any second."
"Oh I'm sure he won't mind," He mutters softly while strumming a loose curl away from her face.
Addison nearly forgets to breathe as his fingers sensually trace along her skin that's bare. She manages a nervous laugh before turning her face to meet his, "I'm sure he would have something to say about it."
"No, he wouldn't." He assures her with widened eyes full of longing. His eyes flit down to her supple lips and then back up to her emerald eyes as they slowly lean in for a soft, meaningful kiss.
"Well if he doesn't, I'm sure his daughter will."
Addison and Jake break apart at the sudden interruption by Angie, whose fingers are interlaced with her newly serious boyfriend, Frank. The redhead covers her mouth with her hand out of embarrassment at her less than modest behavior. Jake licks his lips and offers a sheepish grin up at his daughter.
"Can you two go more than ten minutes without wanting to go at it?" Angie taunts with a disapproving smirk at how her parental figures act more like horny teenagers than their own age.
"Well I think we did pretty good throughout the entire first Act," Jake replies somewhat defensively, "and that was close to forty-five minutes of me staring at your stepmother's thighs without-"
Addison smacks his shoulder, "Jake!"
"Yeah seriously, Dad?" Angie groans in horror of him relaying such intimate information in front of her and her boyfriend, who's only just met the family. "Do you really have to say things like that?"
"No," Jake deadpans, "but I like torturing you. It's fun."
Angie shakes her head slowly and then turns to Addison, "Is he always like this?"
The redhead smiles up at her stepdaughter with similar exhaustion at Jake's antics. "Not usually. But I think he likes to show off when you're around."
"Hey," Jake nudges his wife in the ribs, effectively hitting her most ticklish places.
She giggles softly, and when she can no longer restrain him from tickling her, Addison stands to get away from him, "Come on Ang, Frank, let's go get something to drink."
Jake gapes at her momentarily, but when she turns to wink at him, he takes this as her cue to follow them over to the bar. What he fails to notice is the fleeting moment of anxiety that crosses her face when a pair of saddened jade green eyes finds hers across the room.
He swears he saw her during the first intermission, sitting by herself with a glass of white wine carefully cradled in the palm of her hand. Her royal blue wrap dress fell a few inches above her knees, hair lightly curled and half pulled back in a circular gold clip he remembers tugging from her auburn waves before crushing her mouth with his.
But his memories of a passionate love affair are soon dashed when a man with olive skin and a dazzling smile enters the scene. His hand rests so easily at her back. The yellow gold wedding band catching the light and reminding Mark what he's forgotten anytime he's fantasized about the redheaded woman that he loves. He watches them kiss and tease one another, a pang of jealousy striking deep within his heart.
He downs the rest of his jack and coke, standing to leave the scene without interfering. As he stops at the top of the steps, their eyes accidentally meet through the many people filing past them in the spacious room. He swears he notices her lips tug up at the corners, but their eye contact is broken when her husband crosses in front of her.
"Hey, there you are," Comes Julia's sweet voice. She tugs on her husband's arm, he readily turns to face her. She cocks her head to the side and remarks curiously, "I thought you went out for a smoke."
"I did but…it's raining," He offers as a weak excuse. "You want to get a drink?"
She slips her arm through his and taunts, "Are you trying to get me drunk?"
"Maybe," He quips in return, which causes her to throw back her head and giggle. Mark turns his face back over his shoulder; only to discover the redhead in the blue dress is gone.
She waits anxiously in the woman's bathroom of the restaurant. She wonders if he was serious when he asked her to come here. As time ticks onward, she grows more anxious. She's starting to think this was all part of a sick joke on his part. Asking her to procure two tickets to the ballet, arranging a seemingly chance meeting at a restaurant where her family would be, and then sending her a text that if they wanted to tear one off for old times sake, to meet her in the bathroom.
Her heart hammers nervously beneath her chest, blood pumping fiercely throughout her ears so she can barely hear the creak of the door open behind her. If it weren't for the mirror, she'd whirl around to face whoever was intruding, but all it takes is a fixated gaze on his reflected form to set her unusually at ease.
"You can't be here," He tells her gruffly.
Her heartbeat quickens and she wonders if it will actually explode inside of her chest. Gripping the countertop, she tries to turn to face him without completely becoming unhinged. But it's rather difficult when they're confronted with the mounting sexual tension that's been present since his visit in L.A. She lifts a brow at him, perplexed by his words.
"I have a wife. A family." He reminds her in clipped tones, his breathing labored and a sign of pure outrage written across his face.
Addison rakes her teeth over her bottom lip and frowns up at him remorsefully, "You asked to me come."
He stands at the opposite end of the stall, not taking his hand off the doorknob as if he can easily escape this situation they've found themselves in. Clearly her showing up surprised him, especially after he witnessed her earlier happiness with her new family. "Why did you?" He demands, the edges of his eyes brimming with liquid as conflicted feelings of anger, desire, and guilt consume him.
It takes everything in her power to remain with her lower back pressed against the sink counter and not rush into his arms. She wants to tell him she needs to be with him one last time before she can leave, but somehow she fears she won't be able to override the guilt that will surely kill her.
Addison slowly crosses the room, the sound of her heels reverberating against the four walls of the bathroom. "Because you asked me to," She mumbles softly, the outline of his figure distorting more as large tears fill her eyes.
Her hand brushes the side of his face. Her thumb feels the prickling of his half grown in beard before traveling to the center of his mouth, tracing the fullness of his slightly parted lips. He bites down, causing her to gasp and retract her hand.
With widened deep blue eyes, she tries to search his face for answers to what they can and can't do. Because what they already know what they should and shouldn't do, so that question doesn't need to be reminded.
Lifting herself up tiptoe she gives into her less crippling desires and plants a chaste kiss against his jaw. "Bye Mark," She breathes hotly, the outline of his body blurry through her cloudy vision.
Addison turns to leave him, but is caught when his hand encircles her arm and forces her back to him. He drinks in her lips in a desperate attempt to feel her one last time. Their teeth painfully clink together. His tongue pries apart her stubborn mouth and meets with hers. Her hands claw at the sides of his face, forcing him closer than is possible. His hands easily slip under the loose fabric of her skirt, digging his hips against hers. She groans as his erection presses against her panties. His fingers are slipping underneath the waistband of the lace, and suddenly her hands grab his and she bows her head forward to break contact with him.
"Mark, we can't." She warns him sharply, terrified of how easily she responded to his kiss. Her head falls forward against the hollow of his throat. She tries to regulate her breathing by biting on the knot his tie.
He releases his hold on her waist, but notices the glint of gold from the hairclip. As her face remains buried in his chest, Mark releases the clamp and pulls it out of her red hair. He tosses it against the floor and threads his fingers through her tresses until her face is forced back to look into his. "Tell me to stop," He urges her, slowly inching his mouth back to hers.
Just before he can capture her lips with his, she whimpers, "Stop."
His jade eyes meet hers, full of fear, regret, and sorrow. Mark's heart begins to ache when he realizes how impossible it is for them, no matter how possible they make it. They'll only end up destroying one another like they always have. So he frees his hand from her hair and turns away from her with a downcast expression.
"Mark I-" She tries to explain. She tries to follow him, and wrap her arms over his shoulders.
"Goodbye Addison," He barks harshly, causing her to jump at the finality in his words. His shoulders are hunched over slightly and he squeezes his eyes shut to hide how truly broken he is.
She knows this is the last time she'll see him. They can't keep trying to force their way into the others life because he wouldn't fit in her world anymore than she would fit into his. Sometimes all that is left is the goodbye, and in their case maybe it's better left this way.