Shattered Hearts

by Emerald

Realizing that Ethan will never leave Gwen, Theresa marries Fox against Ethan's protests. Can she handle hurting Fox-the man that's done nothing but love her-with her infidelity, or will she have to learn to endure life without Ethan?

11. Jagged Edges

Chapter 10 : Jagged Edges

The auburn liquid burned his throat as he took a deep swallow. He closed his eyes and inhaled the sweet smell of the brandy in his glass. As he took in the fine aroma, he imagined Ethan drinking the brandy he had sent him. He imagined the same smell in his mouth. And then Fox wondered if Theresa had tasted the brandy off of his tongue.

And he took another drink.

His glass was empty before he knew it and he had to pour himself his fourth glass. As he stood to walk the few feet to the standing bar, Fox wavered and landed right back on the couch.

"Fox?" a voice in the doorway said.

The barely conscious Fox looked up at the woman standing there and tried to pretend that he still had his bearings. "Oh," he waved, "hey, Whit."

Trying again, Fox stood and this time was able to maintain his balance. He walked over to the bar and his toe bumped into it, causing all the glasses to move and almost tumble to the floor. His hand waved as he reached out for the neck of the glass bottle, but his vision had become blurry and it was easy to miss. His hand grasped at air and he had to try again. Finally finding the bottle, he caused the glasses to clank against it before he was able to lift it. He poured himself another glass full and took his seat.

She watched him take a drink and by how well she knew him, she could tell that he was at least on his fourth glass. "Fox, maybe you should take it easy for a little while, huh?"

Fox took another swig of the liquor that was quickly making his mouth numb. "Ah," he said in appreciation. "No, I don't think so." And she watched him take another drink and winced for him. "This makes everything better," he said, looking into the deep amber. Whitney slowly sat next to him on the couch and put a gentle hand to his back in comfort. "Oh, and," he said as he lifted his wrist in a toast, "Theresa's pregnant."

Whitney's eyes got softer and her heart broke for him. "Yeah," she nodded. "She called me from the hospital."

And then Fox downed the rest of the glass. "Yep, isn't it something? My wife's pregnant." He paused, staring around the room. "The kicker is I don't know if I'm going to be a daddy." And then he laughed, his throat cracking in pain.

"Fox…," Whitney tried to comfort him.

He laughed again. "It's alright. Don't pass out the cigars just yet."

Whitney's heart continued to break for him. She hated seeing him in so much pain. And what hurt her even more was the fact that she knew of Theresa's betrayal long before Fox had—at least officially. She should have told him. Maybe she would have saved him the humiliation and pain that he was going through now.

"You know," Fox began as he wiped his eyes of the tears that were beginning to fall without his permission. "I should have killed him when I had the chance."

Whitney's expression grew concerned. "Who?"

"Who else?" Fox asked sarcastically. "Boy wonder. Ethan." His mouth turned up in a scowl as if the name made him physically sick. "He's been taking what's mine since we were kids, Whitney! I'm not letting him take Theresa from me!"

This time, he didn't push his tears away. Tears of anger fell down his face, his brow and mouth clenched in a building fury. She had never seen him more broken. Fox had always been the one to hold composure no matter how embarrassed or angry he found himself.

Fox was a Crane. And Cranes didn't cry.

But he was crying. He was crying and there was nothing anyone could do to stop it. The damage had been done and Whitney wasn't sure if it would ever be able to be repaired.

"No!" Fox screamed at himself. "No!"

He got up and found his way to the bar again. Struggling against the alcohol, it took him a while to find his balance. The glass clanked harder this time as he poured himself another glass of brandy. He finished the glass in one turn of his wrist before he threw it to the floor, smashing the glass.

"I don't hate him," he said, still loudly. He turned to Whitney, his eyes growing in discovery. "I hate her." He stared down at the floor, the perfectly cut wooden oak that he'd had imported from California forests. "I hate her. I hate her. I hate her!" Then the tears fell rapidly; angry tears that contorted his face in fury. "I hate her, Whit! How could she do this to me! How!"

Whitney watched him and knew that it was his breaking point, the cusp of his unraveling. She wasn't sure what to say. She wasn't sure there was anything for her to say.

"I loved her, Whitney!" He bit his knuckle before taking his seat again.

Whitney stared at him, his eyes glassy and red. His Adam's apple jerked as he tried to swallow the lump in his throat. She wanted to take his pain away. She wanted to help him heal.

"I know…," Whitney said softly.

He had to turn away from her; his sudden anguish was too great to be shielded anymore. His equilibrium was shaken, and not just by alcohol. Everything around him was getting harder and harder to focus on. There was one thing, however, that he could not erase from the forefront of his mind: Theresa.

Whitney's hand went to his cheek, her gentleness causing another tear to fall from his eye. He turned to her fully. He wasn't able to hide his pain from her anymore. He stared at her with every question, every anguish, he had in him. He cried as if he'd never been told that the blood that ran through his veins was too good for that when he was child.

Fox's neck was beginning to give out on him and his head wavered forwards before he was able to pull it back. "I loved her," he said again. "I loved her."

"It's okay, Fox. It's okay." Her eyes locked on his and let him know that he was safe and secure. "Shhh…." Her hand was still against his cheek and she wanted to suddenly tell him everything that was in her heart. But she wasn't sure she could; Fox was hurting and he was vulnerable.

"But—I—don't—how—could—she—I…," he sobbed. "No! I loved her. I loved her! With all of my heart! She was my sun! She was my moon! He used her! He toyed with her! For years! And I gave her my heart!" He paused, the events swirling in his cloudy mind. "And she threw it back at me! Just… like it didn't even matter!"

He was angry again, his temper flaring. His fists were clenching and his teeth were bared like an animal ready to attack. Perhaps he was. Perhaps he was getting ready to seek his revenge on those that broke him.

"Theresa! I loved her, Whit! So much! So much it hurts! And she chose Ethan! She chose him! He takes everything from me! Everything!" He turned to her, his face closer to hers. "No more," he whispered.

And before Whitney realized it, he was kissing her.

"No more…," he whispered as he kissed her again. "No more."

Whitney froze, her lips moving against her will. She wasn't sure what was going on. All she knew was that Fox's lips were against hers. She could taste the sour smell of the brandy on Fox's tongue. With every firm declaration from Fox, he met her with a kiss. She kissed back without thinking about it. Soon, he was against her, lowering her to the plush couch.

Fox moved to her neck, his breath intoxicating and dripping with alcohol. Whitney let him kiss her. She let his mouth wander down her jaw line to her throat. She let his tongue slither out and lick up to her chin. She let his lips suck against her jugular. And then she let his hand gather a breast.

Whitney's throat let out a deep sigh as she felt him palming at her body. She had wanted him for so long. She had craved the moment that he was giving her. She had dreamed of him coming to her, asking her for her permission. She fantasized about him taking her in his arms and making love to her.

But this was real.

Fox was above her, his lips were against her skin, his fingertips undoing the buttons on her shirt, his legs slowly begging to spread hers. Whitney's skin was beginning to flush in heat. Goosebumps rose against her arms as his finger trailed down from her shoulder to her wrist. With his free arm, he slid under her body and pulled her close to him. She arched her back, forcing herself closer; her body needing to feel him, and her throat started to release shaky breaths.

"Fox…," she breathed into the air.

Fox wasn't listening. He worked at removing the shirt on the woman beneath him. The last two were not cooperating with him and he simply pulled, sending the remaining buttons flying into the air. Her body was exposed to him, his desire flooding his senses. Fox pulled the cup of her bra down and revealed a hardened nipple. Before bothering to look at the color, Fox took it to his mouth. He sucked, bit, pulled, and twisted with his lips as his tongue swirled around—just how she liked it.

Soon hands were on the sides of his head, goading him on in his action. Fox was ravenous, his hunger driving him mad. While he sucked to the point of pain against her breast, his other hand cupped her behind and slid to the front of her jeans. His lacking coordination made it difficult for him to unbutton her jeans fluidly and ended up having to tear himself from her chest and use both hands to pull her pants off. Just as the skin of her legs was exposed, he forced them open and around his waist.

Whitney watched as he moved in such haste, as if he were trying to distract himself from something. But, it was a very distant part of her that paid attention to that factor. All she knew in that moment was that Fox wanted her and she was going to give him what he wanted.

With her legs wrapped around him, Fox unbuckled his belt and freed himself through his zipper. Whitney reached for him, her hand trying desperately to feel him. But he didn't let her. Instead, he hooked his finger in her panties and pushed them aside. The next thing either of them knew, he was inside of her.

Whitney gasped as he entered her. She hadn't expected him so quickly, or so hard. Her dreams and her fantasies had been so much softer, so much more loving. But this was different. This was real.

"Oh god…," he sighed.

Fox wrapped his arms under her legs and grabbed her waist in both hands, bringing her body closer to his. He pushed into her without thinking. He tried his best to focus and instead thrust in again. He thought he heard a cry of pain, but he didn't pay attention.

"Oh… oh…," he breathed. "Oh god…. Theresa…."

And just as Whitney's day dream had been tainted, it got even more painful. He wasn't just making love to Theresa. Worse. He was hurting her.

Whitney then understood that everything that she wanted, everything she thought she was getting, was ripped from her in a single second. The feeling of Fox's lips against hers, his hands against her body, him inside of her, were all a blurred delusion. He didn't even see her.

"Fox!" she cried as he hurt her again. It felt like she was being ripped. The pain was searing as if she were being scraped with sandpaper on an open wound. She tried not to cry, but her pride was failing her.

But it didn't stop him. Instead, he went faster and harder. Whitney started to beg in pain, pleading with him to realize what he was doing. But his brain was too clouded to understand. Next, he fell against her, his weight heavy on her body. Whitney froze, her tears falling silently.

Fox cried against her chest, his tears wetting her half-removed bra. The two cried together—both for separate reasons—and then Fox fell asleep.

______

"Ma'am," a soft voice rang in Theresa's ear. "Ma'am?" Theresa turned to the elderly blond nurse staring at her. "Ma'am? Are you all right?"

Maybe it was that Theresa hadn't responded to the three individual attempts that Nancy had tried to get her attention that made her question. Or maybe it was the dried tears fallen from Theresa's swollen, red eyes.

"I'm fine," Theresa lied.

Nancy's face softened. "Don't worry, you'll do fine." She grabbed Theresa's hand and squeezed gently.

"Sorry?"

"It's natural to feel a little apprehensive about having a baby. Young mothers are always afraid that they won't be able to handle it. But don't worry. You'll do fine." And she smiled so sincerely that Theresa couldn't let her know why she was really crying. "I just wanted to come in and see if you needed anything before the doctor signs your discharge papers…"

Theresa smiled back weakly as she thought of leaving the hospital alone. She knew she deserved nothing better, but it still hurt. A tear threatened again, but Theresa forced herself to contain it.

"No, thank you."

Nancy smiled again and touched Theresa's shoulder before she turned to walk out.

"Wait," Theresa said suddenly. "Actually, there is something that I need." Nancy turned back to Theresa attentively. "Can you tell me how old the baby is?"

Nancy looked at Theresa with the same gentleness. "Sure, I'll schedule an appointment for you with your OB/GYN."

Just as she was about to walk out, Theresa stopped her more urgently. "No! I need… I need to know now."

To anyone else, the exact timing in the early stages of pregnancy might have been discernable and all right to leave unanswered for another week. But Theresa didn't have that luxury; she needed to know when the baby was conceived if her sanity was to survive.

______

The black pools of mascara had smudged under Whitney's eyes in jagged half-circles. She sat in the front room, consumed in shock. Her clothes were still half removed from her body, hanging in mangles that resembled her thoughts. Staring out the window, she looked for something that wasn't coming in the distance. Something was laughing at her on a different plane somewhere in the universe. And she couldn't even summon the energy to defy it.

A bird flew close to the window and landed on the sill. The small brown bird stared into the window at Whitney. It didn't make a sound or flap its wings. Then just as quickly as it had handed, it flew away.

The sound of a throat clearing caught Whitney's wavering attention. While she recognized the sound as coming from Fox, Whitney didn't turn. Fox stepped forward and put a hand on her shoulder. She flinched away as if he'd burned her. Fox cursed himself when she moved away from his touch.

It was real.

"Oh god, Whit. I'm so sorry."

His mind was foggy, slivers of memories seeming like fabrications of his imagination in the wake of a dream. He woke up on the couch of his study; face down against the fine pillows. His head ached, his stomach churned and when he sat up, he realized that the zipper of his pants was undone. He questioned himself and knew that he had drunk too much and had probably passed out. But why were his pants undone?

Then his mind swam with images of Whitney coming into his study. She had sat next to him, her hand on his back in comfort. And her face kept morphing into Theresa's. And all he could remember thinking was that Theresa had given herself to another and he was going take that back—by force if necessary. But now as he stared at Whitney, he knew what he had done and he wanted to rip his lungs out.

He knew what he'd done to her. He knew that he'd hurt her and he hated himself more than he ever imagined possible. He stared at her and knew that he'd done what her mangled appearance reflected. Her shirt was stretched and fell lower on her shoulder than it should have and a few buttons were missing from the bottom. The black lines leading down from her eyes told him that not only had she been crying, but he was the one to make her cry.

Whitney was his best friend and he could think of nothing to undo what had been done. He'd treated her like his own personal punching bag. She had done nothing but try to make him feel better, take away the pain. And he abused her. And what was worse, he knew that it had meant something to her.

And he destroyed it.

Fox crouched in front of her and stared into her eyes. But they were blank. She stared out the window, her eyes empty of anything. "Whit?" he tried to get her attention. But she continued to stare at something that wasn't really there. "Whitney? Look at me." Her eyes remained glassy and far off into the distance where she could see only what she was thinking.

"Theresa's pregnant," she whispered.

Fox swallowed hard, his throat constricting and his head starting to pound even harder than it was. "I know," he said as he nodded.

"Theresa's pregnant," she whispered again.

It was as if her mind was gone. Whitney was gone. She had been taken, her body nothing but an empty shell of what she used to be. And it was all Fox's fault. He destroyed her in a simple action that he could have avoided if he had only listened to her when she suggested that he'd had enough.

"Whitney, please. Look at me. Whitney, it's Fox. Look at me."

Whitney finally turned her eyes down to him, her pupils constricting to focus on him. She stared at him just as blankly as she was staring out the window. As her eyes locked on his, tears started forming. She was scared of him.

"Whitney…," he whispered. "I am so sorry."

She stared at him, waiting for him to somehow prove his words true. But he didn't know how to make it any truer than what he felt; he meant it with all of his heart.

Her mind flashed with memories of what had happened. She remembered the elation of feeling Fox's lips against hers. His hands against her body made her want to cry in happiness. But then he turned. From loving and soft and passionate, he became cold and hard. She had only dreamed of being with Fox, making love to him. But it wasn't what she'd imagined. She tried to ignore the pain, but it was too great to push away. Tears spilled from the corners of her eyes and soon her throat was vocalizing her pain. Still, Fox refused to stop. Holding on to his shoulders, she cried for him to stop, to slow down. Instead he continued until he collapsed on top of her.

Whitney laid there, trying to hold in her tears, but it was in vain. Fox soon fell asleep and Whitney was able to escape. Her mind was a blank as she went down to the first level of the large estate. As she reached the front door, she broke down as she began focusing on what had just happened. Then she found herself sitting in the front room staring into Fox's worried face.

"Fox…," she whispered.

His eyes locked on hers and really mirrored the pain he saw. Suddenly afraid and embarrassed, she crossed her arms over her chest, hiding from him. She pulled her sleeves up and quickly buttoned her shirt. Fox watched her, his eyes squinting in pain as he knew that what he'd done was making her want to flee from him.

"Whitney, please," he tried. But still she made to get up. He stood in front of her and she sat back down, afraid of what he might do to her next. "God, I—please, I'm sorry."

Whitney stared at the floor, her eyes looking down, away from his face. She wasn't sure what to say to him, or what she was supposed to be thinking after something like that. The memories were crowding her mind so that she was unable to think of much else. She knew she wanted to cry again, but her eyes were dry; no more tears could be cried.

Fox stared at her, unsure of what to do. Without really thinking about it, he bent down and scooped her into his arms. He needed to show her that his tenderness was still there. He needed to prove that he was still the same man. He was her best friend, and she was his, despite what had transpired in the blurs of alcohol and pain. He wanted to erase everything he'd done. And the only way he knew how to do it was so show her that he wasn't a monster, and that he would never intentionally hurt her.

At first, feeling Fox's hands on her, she flinched. She immediately wanted to be out of his arms, afraid of what was going to happen next. But she knew better than to fight him; she had learned from experience that it was more painful that way. Instead, she stayed limp in his arms, her hands firmly on his shoulder to make sure she didn't fall.

Fox walked slowly with Whitney in his arms, and she felt like his child. The idea of ever hurting her hurt him more than he would have thought possible. But he knew that he needed to prove his true nature to her, no matter what.

Climbing the stairs was long for Fox, as he tried to maneuver without bumping Whitney into the walls or railing. Finally making it up to his bedroom, he gently laid her on the bed. As she was set down, Whitney was overcome with fear. She wasn't sure what he was going to do next, but she wasn't sure that she wanted to find out. She looked around the room to find that she was in Theresa's bedroom and wondered what he could possibly want with her in there. Frightened, she moved away from him as his set her down.

Fox saw that she crouched away from him and wished that she wasn't so afraid. But he knew that it was his fault that she feared him so. His eyes softened in remorse as he looked at the pain on her face. He was her predator and he wondered if she would ever be able to see him as a friend again. But he knew that he didn't deserve it.

Whitney backed up like a child backing away from a belt. Fox moved around the bed to the other side and sat down, facing her. She stared at him, afraid. She wasn't sure what he was going to do to her next. And she knew that she didn't have the strength—emotionally or physically—to fight him off. Fox pulled the tie loose around his neck and threw off his jacket. Whitney watched him, her eyes growing in dread. Fox drew closer to her and Whitney froze. If he was going to take her again, she wanted it to be as painless as possible.

But Fox was a better man than that.

He moved close to her and wrapped his arm around her waist. Immediately, she twitched and tried to pull away from him. Even though she had told herself that she wouldn't put up a fight so that it would be over soon and without pain, it was her instinct to protect herself.

Fox swallowed hard at her hesitation. He had to hold her firmly in his arms as she fought. He moved closer to her and pulled her to his body.

"Whitney, Whitney, wait, wait," he tried to console her. "It's okay. It's okay. Shhh…. Shhhh…." Still she flailed in his arms, more aggression starting to fight him off. "Whitney!" he said harshly as he pulled both her arms around her body and held them against her back. He moved his lips close to her ear and tried to sound as sincere as he possibly could. "I'm not going to hurt you." He waited to see if she would respond. "I promise." Her body calmed slightly and he took it mean that she believed him.

Fox then pulled both their bodies down against the mattress and Whitney hesitantly followed down on the bed. Whitney's eyes leaked a tear as she felt Fox's strong arms give and wrap around her. Something suddenly felt different as she was in his arms. She knew that he was just as he used to be; gentle and caring. Fox was once again the man she loved, the man she dreamed of, her best friend. As she focused on Fox and how much she cared for him, and then the man that had treated her like his property in the library, she began sobbing.

She sobbed and sobbed into the pillows with Fox's arms around her. He tightened his hold on her, silently telling her that she was safe with him now.

"I'm so sorry, Whitney," he whispered into her ear. And he was sure that she began crying harder.

What Whitney was crying about, however, she wasn't entirely sure. She knew that the moment in the library wasn't Fox. Yet, it was hard to pass. She had wanted that moment more than anything for years. And when it was finally granted to her, it was a stolen moment acted out of revenge and spite. And it wasn't even in the reality that she'd always wanted.

But, now, as he held her tight in his arms and gave her what she'd craved for so long, she wondered if destiny was playing a trick on her or if something real was really happening between them. The possibility that it could be ripped away from her as quickly as it had been given was a painful thought. And so she cried.

Suddenly, out of no where, in the pit of his stomach, Fox felt something cutting into his abdomen. It was like a tiny punch sawing into the muscular wall protecting his intestines. What it was, though, he didn't know. He pulled Whitney closer, and the stabbing grew stronger. The room went quiet, the air grew softer, and a clear fog enveloped his thoughts.

Whitney's voice broke, her tears dissipating to give way to her voice. Her throat quivered as she spoke, afraid of the words she was about to say as well as needing to have them said.

"I… I—I love you, Fox."

The stabbing in Fox's belly quelled. It was something that he couldn't ignore. But it was also something that he didn't understand. Not knowing what to say in response, not really sure of his own feelings, he pulled her closer and rested his chin on her shoulder.

"I'll never hurt you again."

______

The gel was cold as it was squirted onto her stomach. As soon as the white bulb was put to her belly, the room was filled the wahm-wahm-wahm-wahm sound of the baby's heartbeat.

"So that right there," the doctor's gloved hand pointed to the black-and-white monitor, "that's the heart."

Theresa noticed the blinking dot and right away felt like everything had suddenly become more real for her to actually see the life growing inside of her. She stared at the small white dot and wondered if it resembled Ethan or Fox. Just as she was thinking about the paternity prospect, she began thinking back to when the baby could have been conceived recently enough for her not to know about it.

When was it? Theresa asked herself.

It was her own anniversary and she had to curse herself for having to strain her memory for her anniversary date. That would give her a bar of comparison. If she could remember how many weeks it had been since her anniversary, she would know who the father was. Ethan had been two weeks before her anniversary… and after. And a few times after that.

Confronting the mystery was making her shake. A part of her was scared about the prospect of her baby's father. If it was Ethan, not only had she betrayed her husband, but she was also going to give his brother a child. If Fox was the father, Ethan had to be gone from her life forever in honor of the family she owed to her child. And she wasn't sure she could live with that.

"Okay, Mrs. Crane," Dr Angeles said as he turned off the monitor and handed her a paper towel to wipe her belly. "Everything looks good, normal. I'd say that you're looking at about five or six weeks, give or take. The conception date…" he trailed off as his eyes looked up in thought. "Let's see…," he said, mentally doing the math. "That should be about… April 17th." He shook his hand. "Somewhere around there." He smiled at her and snapped off his gloves. After he signed her chart, he headed for the door and walked out.

Theresa's heart had stopped, her blood frozen in her veins. Whether she wasn't able to move or the world had simply stopped, she wasn't sure she knew.

She knew one thing, however: her anniversary was April 16th.

______

"Whenever you're ready, Mrs. Crane. Your discharge papers are ready for you at the front desk," Nancy, the kind nurse, told her.

Theresa was once again staring out the window in her own thoughts. She heard Nancy's voice, but couldn't summon the energy to move. Her mind kept replaying the doctor's last words.

Five or six weeks… April 17th.

April 16th.

Fox was the father.

And then that's when she realized that with all of her heart, more than anything, she was silently begging for Ethan to be the father of her child. Maybe then, it would be the universe's way of finally letting them be together.

But once again, the universe told her that she should be with Fox—Ethan was not the man for her. And that realization had kept her frozen in her thoughts, her heart barely beating in her pain, her breath only enough to keep her alive. The thought of not being able to be with Ethan was deadening; the very life was seeping from her body.

"Mrs. Crane?"

This time, Theresa turned. She knew that Nurse Nancy was going to start getting closer, start prying. "I'll be right there," Theresa said softly.

Nancy nodded, noting the tears again. "Okay. Just let me know if you need anything."

Theresa waited for Nancy to leave before she headed out of her hospital room. As she made her way out into the main lobby, she began thinking that she would have to call Harold to pick her up. Just as she was reaching the large desk, she noticed him sitting in the waiting area off to the right. He was hunched, his elbows resting on his knees, his head low, eyes to the floor.

"Ethan?" Theresa said as she reached him. He looked up at her, his eyes red. "What are you doing here?"

He stood up, his hand rubbing his eyes before looking back at her. "I came to get you."

Theresa stared at him, something laughing at her within. When she looked at him, she looked at him knowing that she loved him more than anything. And that there was another man's child growing inside of her.

"You okay?" he asked as he noticed her blank stare.

She nodded slowly. She tried to focus so that she didn't blurt out the truth and break everything they both knew.

"C'mon." He put his arm at the base of her back and ushered her out of the hospital with the comfort that she had needed for hours.

The car ride was quiet, Ethan occasionally looking over to her to make sure she was okay. She stared out the window, too scared to speak. Finally, Ethan stopped the car and Theresa looked around.

Ethan had taken them to the Harmony Cliffs next to the shore. They used to go there when they had dated, years before they knew anything about real pain. Late at night, Ethan would drive them to the top cliff. They would sit on the roof of his new car and stare at the stars as Theresa attempted to make wishes on every star she saw. And Ethan would stare at her the entire time, his heart growing with each wish she made. But what he didn't know was that each wish was the same; she only wished for Ethan to love her.

"Ethan, what are we doing here?"

Ethan didn't say anything and instead stepped out of the car before he went around and opened Theresa's door.

"Ethan? What—?"

"Shhh," he quieted her as he pulled her to her feet in front of him.

They were close; their bodies, their faces, close. Intoxicating. Ethan moved forward, only slightly, enough to leave a small sliver of space between their lips. He was tempting her, provoking her, making her mind spin. Theresa stayed put as long as she could, watching him slowly approach closer to her face. But then as he stalled in front of her, hanging time, she thought she would burst from the inside out if she didn't feel his lips against hers.

Ethan pulled her close, his need straining his body to be against hers. It wasn't out of lust. They were two halves of the same being and they simply felt incomplete without the other—they were torn pieces of the same cloth.

"I'm sorry," Ethan breathed as he pulled back. He kissed her forehead and wrapped her in a close embrace. "I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have left you like that," he confessed.

Theresa breathed a sigh of relief as she clung to him. Just being in his arms made everything seem doable and relaxed. "When you left," she began as the tears started welling, "I thought—I thought that—I'd never see you again."

"Oh god," Ethan said as he wrapped his arms around her even tighter. "Theresa, that could never happen. Never." They held each other, both clinging for dear life. And it was. Without each other, they were sure that they would die. "I just needed to think. I wasn't sure how to react with Fox… and with everything… I just needed some time to process." Theresa nodded against his chest. "But we'll get through this."

Then guilt hit her in the chest like a bull on charge.

"Ethan," said as she began pulling out of his hold. Ethan slowly loosened his arms. "Ethan," she said again. He pulled back, his eyes staring into hers. "There's something I need to tell you."

"What?" Ethan said, his lips in a smile. As her eyes turned back up to him, he realized that what she had to say wasn't going to be easy. "What is it?" He was suddenly becoming worried.

She breathed hard, her throat shaking as it let loose. "I… uh… I found out…" And then she stopped, her fear preventing her from continuing. "The doctor told me…" And she stopped again.

Ethan stared down at her, his chest starting to constrict. "Theresa?"

Theresa had to compose herself. She forced herself to breathe properly and began to memorize the feeling of Ethan's arms around her… for, perhaps, the last time. "I spoke to my doctor."

Ethan, for a split second, smiled. He had already had fantasies of their life as a family together. But then, as he took into account her hesitation and the tears that he could see within her eyes, he knew that what she was saying was going to shatter everything he knew and wanted.

He nodded. "Fox."

Theresa looked down to her hands that were pressed against his chest. She wasn't sure she could face him. As she began to look up, as she saw the early pain in his eyes, she realized that she couldn't look at him now. She couldn't watch the pain that she was going to cause him.

"I need to make a choice, Ethan."

He stared at her as if he didn't understand what she was saying. "Choice? What choice, Theresa?" She looked down at her hands when he took them in his. "This is your choice."

She looked back up into his eyes, searching for the strength she needed. She knew that she could never have the strength for what she had to do. But it didn't matter.

"Are you sure?" And the tears in her voice could not be hidden.

Ethan was suddenly scared. He was at a loss. He was almost sure what she meant when she asked the question. He just didn't want to confront it—it would be too painful for him. Struggling to swallow all of a sudden, Ethan diverted his eyes from hers. That's when she felt it: the vice on her heart squeezing mercilessly. She was breaking him. Ethan dropped her hands and took a step back, his own shield coming up between them.

"Ethan, don't. Please," she begged. "I hate hurting you… Please."

Ethan inhaled deeply and stared far off to his side. Thoughts pounded into his brain. Everything that he knew and wanted converged into an image of Theresa. But it didn't matter. She didn't want him.

"Just tell me why," he whispered. "Why go through that again? Why, Theresa?"

Theresa stared at him, her own pain eating her heart. Looking at her feet, Theresa wrapped her hands around the belly that would be growing within the coming months. "Because it's time that I take my place with my husband and our child."

Pressing his lips together under his teeth, Ethan nodded. "His?" This time walking closer to her and stroking his thumb across her cheek, he couldn't have sounded more serious. "You don't know that, Theresa. It could be mine."

"The doctor said—"

"I don't give a damn about what the doctor said!" Ethan yelled. "We belong together, Theresa! You and me! And that baby can make that happen."

Theresa began crying again. She knew what he was saying was true and she hated herself for wishing that the baby was only two weeks older.

"Just—just think about it, Theresa. Think how it could be." And then the wishes and dreams crushed upon her and she would have walked away if Ethan hadn't grabbed her hands and stopped her.

"Imagine, Theresa… that baby… a beautiful baby made by the greatest love the world has ever known." And then his voice got very soft. "Can you see him? Our little boy. He'd have your eyes… your beautiful eyes." She smiled. "Can you see him?" And for a brief instant, Theresa thought she saw a little boy running around a yard with dark golden hair and deep brown eyes. "And if it's a girl… she'll look just like you, Theresa. And she'll have your zest for life… and your stubbornness."

A tear dropped from her lashes to the ground and Theresa laughed. "No," she shook her head. "No. She'd look like her dad."

And she looked up to him and locked her eyes with his. Ethan's heart suddenly was begging hers to just think of what she just said. But the truth was that she could see it—the family they'd once spoken of when their love was new. Theresa knew, though, that it was impossible now. She'd have to give up the dreams she'd longed for. Again. Ethan saw her face fall as if she was dismissing the beautiful thoughts no matter how much she craved them.

"Theresa, wait," he called back her attention. Immediately, she tried to get away. "Listen, wait, Theresa. Imagine it. Our children… our beautiful children."

Theresa was begging herself and internally struggling to not be able to call up the images he spoke of. But she couldn't help it and her mind traveled to memories that could be real: Ethan's hand on her growing belly as they anticipated the birth of their family; both of them gleaming with joy and exhaustion as their first born was placed into their waiting arms; they stood holding hands as they watched their child run off for the first day of school; vacations and toys and laughter and warmth and family. Her tears had grown steadily in her desperation to make the dreams reality.

"And us, Theresa," he whispered. Then it was too painful and Ethan had to block her path when she tried to get away. "No, just think about it. We could finally get married, Theresa. We could be together and not worry about anyone else." Then his voice grew seductive. "We could make love every single day, Theresa."

That was too much.

"No," she shook her head. "Don't."

She couldn't bear the thought of what she wanted most in the world and not take it. Ethan pulled her retreating hands even closer, this time the tone in his voice was begging her to listen with everything he had in him.

"No, Theresa, listen. We could make love all night, every night, Theresa. We could… fall asleep in each other's arms… and we could wake up and… lay together, Theresa. Just our bodies pressed together for hours. We could make love in the morning before the kids woke up…"

Theresa's eyes let tears loose and she tried turning her head to hide her agony from Ethan. With all the strength she had left, she tried to force away the images Ethan was conjuring up in her head. But it was too late. She could already see, smell, hear, and feel it all.

The birds outside sung a soothing morning song, a wistful chirping that was light enough to be ignored and yet strong enough to focus on. The light summer breeze blew leaves and branches against the side of the house and the walls were filled with the sound of her calmly-beating heart. As she focused on it, she thought that she'd never felt such a soft heartbeat—such peace.

Her naked skin felt cool and silky against the thin sheet she had wrapped around her body and she took in a deep breath in the awe around her. She turned on her back, her eyes staring up at the ceiling that was becoming brighter and brighter as the sun lifted higher and higher in the sky. Stretching her feet long away from her, Theresa made a gratified moan. That was when she heard him wake. She'd been so caught up in the calamity around her that she'd forgotten about the warm body next to her. He exhaled strongly and also stretched and moaned as he turned to her.

"Good morning, beautiful," he sighed.

Theresa turned her head on the pillow. He stared at her with sleepy eyes. And hungry eyes. The lust shining through his eyes brought memories that flooded her skin with warmth: the way he'd pulled her to him, the way he'd kissed her, the way his fingers brushed her skin, the way his breath felt on her throat, the way he felt inside of her…

"Good morning," she answered.

Ethan pulled her against him in his need to feel her body against his. He took her fingers in his hands and they both watched her tanned skin rise against his in the air. The goosebumps rose as fire split into her skin. With their left hands intertwined above them, they both stared at the bands that physically bonded them; they needed no symbol of their spiritual and internal bond.

"So, what do you think, Mrs. Winthrop?" Ethan asked as his fingers slid back down her extended arm.

"About what?"

Ethan leaned his head into the bend of her neck and breathed softly. "The kids will be up soon…"

Theresa crinkled her nose when his breath tickled her ear. Then she gasped as his lips attached to her neck and sucked. He had just ignited something within her. And then more flashes of the night before became more vivid in her mind.

"I was thinking," he breathed against her, "maybe we should use this time wisely… I mean, who knows when we'll get the chance again."

She smiled at both the brush of his voice and the temptation he was using against her. "Once in a lifetime thing, huh?" she joked with him.

"Exactly. The kids might never leave us along again until they're teenagers."

Theresa laughed a high squeak of humor cutting the room and she leaned into him. "Hmm… well they didn't have a problem with it last night," she countered as she remembered the hours that she and Ethan had spent in sweat and passion after putting their children to bed.

"Well," he tried to think of something while he inched closer to her mouth, "that was a once in a lifetime thing. Just like now." And then his lips were crushing against hers.

Managing to break free, Theresa said, "Well, if it's really just once in a lifetime…"

And they did their best to stay as quiet as they could as to not wake the sleeping children down the hall. It wasn't easy.

"Can you see it, Theresa?" He'd seen the cloudiness of her eyes and he knew that she'd just envisioned everything—if not more—that he'd just suggested. "Theresa, it would be amazing. Just you… me… our family."

The knife was slicing again.

"We'll sleep next to each other every night."

Cut deeper and his voice got the heady and seductive tone in it again.

"Imagine, Theresa…" And again she tried to push away the invading fantasies. "I'd…" His fingers brushed softly against the skin of her forearm and she tingled where his touch had been. "Isn't it that what you want? To wake up with me inside of you…"

The knife was suddenly plunged into a fiery blaze.

"You could wake up with me inside of you."

"No, stop, Ethan!" she cried. The pain was too great. "Just stop! Please…?" And then she was crying as she begged.

He was breaking her heart with every suggestion and every thought he pushed on her. Ethan's heart broke watching what it did to her. But it wasn't exactly easy for him to envision everything he wanted either. To see something so perfect and so right and yet not be able to do a thing about it was torturous. Theresa lifted her hand to wipe her eye and took a step back from him.

"That would be amazing, Ethan." She sniffed before turning up to face him. "But it's too late. That family that we wanted, the family that should have been us, will be me, Fox, and," she hugged her belly, "our baby."

Ethan's eye leaked a heavy tear. "No." His shook his head in protest. "No. It's us, Theresa. It's supposed to be us!"

Theresa's arms wrapped tighter around her belly and she took another step back. "Ethan," she began and her voice was suddenly extremely serious.

He had no choice but to listen to what she was about to say. "Ethan, I can only say this once." She knew that having to say the words again would be like swallowing knives that would slice her throat open and spill her life out.

Ethan listened intently, his fear making his ears perk up—he could feel the danger beginning to swirl around him.

"Fox and I are married."

Cut.

"And we're going to be a loving family with our child."

Cut deeper.

"That family… doesn't include you. It can't."

Even deeper.

"Everything we had… we were," she choked, "forget it, Ethan. Just forget."

Ethan stayed where he was, shock and pain freezing him like a marble statue. It took him several moments to even think that what was happening really was. Then he nodded in his confused pain.

"Forget," he echoed.

Theresa looked up to him then, the pain in his voice slicing into her worse than the repetitive knife she kept feeling. Ethan wasn't looking at her anymore. Instead he looked away and wore the same expression that was on his face the day of the wedding.

"Right… Forget," he sighed, pained.

Theresa didn't know what to say. She knew that her arms were screaming to reach out and hold him, her lips dying to kiss away his tears, and her heart breaking to console his. She scrambled through solutions in her brain but nothing seemed to work. She could only follow what seemed right despite her heart.

Ethan, it seemed, lingered in his thoughts. He said nothing and couldn't even look at her. He focused on what she'd just said, the words echoing in his mind over and over again.

Forget. Just forget.

There were times when he wished he could forget her. But he couldn't.

Theresa stared up at him as she waited for some kind of reaction from him—it didn't come. She waited for his pleading, for his crying, for his anger, for his resolve… just a sign that let her know that it was hurting him just as much as it was hurting her. But there was nothing.

The truth was that he couldn't beg and plead anymore. Ethan was tired and after everything, he wasn't sure how it'd make a difference. As long as the child grew inside of her, as long as she had the knowledge that Fox was the father, there could be no place for him in her life. That brought Ethan out of his numbed daze. If he really had to let her…

"What if it's mine, Theresa?" he asked suddenly. Theresa was caught off guard. "What if it's mine? What if the baby's mine and not Fox's?"

"Ethan, don't," she quickly stopped him.

"No, really, Theresa. Would you be with me or would you fall into the ease of Fox's family."

"That's not fair, Ethan. You know that's not what I'm doing."

Ethan nodded as if patronizing her. "So if it was mine, you'd leave him?"

Theresa's wet and red eyes stared up at him. Her heart was breaking. If she admitted what she knew, she wasn't sure if she could go on. Accepting that she wasn't with Ethan was hard enough, but to have to think of other possibilities was just too hard.

"You wouldn't… would you?" Ethan wanted to cry again.

"I can't!" Theresa screamed. "It doesn't matter what I would do, Ethan! The baby is Fox's! I have no choice…"

"You can choose me, Theresa," he whispered.

And she could have. She could have and for a brief instant, she got an image of her and Ethan sitting on a porch watching a small blond-haired toddler running around a green yard. She could feel the love and pride of their family. They would love their son and it would be everything they'd always wanted. But the boy… his eyes would be deep brown—not fiery blue. He would be an image of Fox and Theresa knew that she would never move past the fact that her child would always be a living reminder of what she did to Fox and her inability to be the wife she should have been.

Theresa suddenly shook her head and tried to shake off the pictures in her head. She looked up, again her eyes were crying. Tears fell and she had wet stains under her lashes.

"I can't…," she whispered.

Ethan felt his heart sink. Every time she reminded him that they couldn't be together, his heart broke in two. Again. Ethan reached out to her hands and took them in his. He softly grasped at her fingers before turning her hands palm down.

Theresa watched and thought she would scream in agony. It was hard enough to realize that loving Ethan and being married to someone else would never amount to anything but pain. This time, she couldn't punish her child because she was selfish. And she wasn't going to hurt Fox any further.

He lifted her hands and placed a kiss right above her knuckles. "Goodbye," he whispered.

Before Theresa had time to process his words, before she could react, Ethan had left her quickly and ran to the other side of the car. As she spun, he stepped on the gas and sped off away from her. He was gone.

"Ethan?" She stared after him, wondering if he was playing some trick on her.

It wasn't a trick.

It took her seconds to realize that he wasn't playing with her—Ethan wasn't coming back.

"Oh god…," she gasped. "What—what…?" She didn't even have time to feel the hot tears that were falling from her eyes. "Ethan!"

What had she done?

______

"Harold," Theresa said slowly into her cell phone. "I'm up at the Harmony Cliffs, right off of North Point. You know, the tallest one. Can you—?"

"Oh, yes, of course, Miss Theresa. I'll be there as soon as I can."

Without saying anything else, Theresa hung up. She snapped her phone closed again and listened to the empty sound it made close to her ear. She did it again. Still the same empty clap.

After Ethan left, she stared after him, finally falling to sit down. She watched the point of where he'd vanished, hoping against everything she knew to be true that she'd see his black Lexus come back into view. She waited and waited and waited. She sat there, on the cliff, for what seemed like an entire day as she watched the sun fade into the background of the sky until all she could see was an orange glow behind the ocean.

Ethan wasn't coming back.

Part of her wanted to crawl up into a little ball and die. The other part of her knew that it was best. She knew that she was going to have to learn how to live without him in her life and, especially now that she was going to solidify her family with Fox. Only, the part that wanted to die was much stronger.

As Harold pulled up close to her, Theresa didn't move. Instead, Harold jumped out of the limo and ran to her side.

"Miss Theresa! Miss Theresa, I came as fast as I could. Are you all right? Miss Theresa?"

Theresa looked up at him, the stained lines on her face long dried into tracks of mascara and smudged dirt that had blown up from the cliff. "I… Thank you, Harold," she said as she took his arm and helped herself up.

The drive to the Crane Estate had Theresa's mind blanked the entire time. She forced herself not to think on what had happened at the cliffs with Ethan; much too painful to relive, that memory was off limits. Thinking about going home to tell Fox the news also made her think of just what she'd lost in one day—a lifetime's worth of love. But now, what she was gaining, was a life that she would love. That Fox would love. And she would learn to be happy… no matter what.

Ethan had to be gone from her mind, her memory, her heart, her soul. The child growing inside of her would be her life now. As she focused on that thought, a part of her began to get excited. She had never thought of herself as the motherly type. With Pilar as a role model, Theresa hoped that she could do half as well a job as her mother had raising children by herself. Baby books, colors, patterns, cribs, stuffed animals, mobiles, blankets, and toys began filling her brain and she knew that in thinking about the baby ahead, she'd well be able to distract herself from the pressing pain of Ethan being gone from her life.

The metal gates opened for the limo and Theresa was driven around the cul-de-sac to her front door. As she stepped out of the limo, she swore that she could feel herself smile. Thinking about the baby had begun to provide an enormous amount of solace when she needed. Soon, she and Whitney would be pouring over wallpaper patterns for the nursery, clothes, and finding self-help books for mothers-to-be.

River pranced along in the foyer as Theresa entered her home and took her jacket quickly. Letting her know that Fox was in the bedroom, he scampered through the house as Theresa began her way up the stairs.

How would she tell him? Traditionally, aren't the fathers-to-be supposed to get cigars? Or a balloon? Besides, she needed something that would wipe the slate clean after their encounter at the hospital. She had to let him know that she was going to be devoted to her family from now on, no matter what; she would never jeopardize their future.

Fox would love the child, that she was sure of. He had always wanted the family unit that growing up as a Crane never allowed him. But would he forgive her? Could he even face her again? Had Theresa managed to lose both men that loved her in the same day? Would god really be that cruel? Theresa quickly resolved to beg if she needed to. If she'd already lost Ethan, she was going to fight to keep the family she gave him up for.

Otherwise… She couldn't even fathom what she would do. Holding onto the railing, Theresa pulled herself up the stairs and had to continually push the image of Ethan driving away with only a cloud of dust to accompany her in his wake. Theresa's hand unconsciously went to hug her belly. By reminding herself to think of the new life growing inside of her, she felt less pained and less selfish for saying goodbye to Ethan and ruining his hopes and dreams for the two of them.

No, she thought. No more Ethan. Fox.

And her arm held tighter across her torso. Upon the stairs leading to the third floor, Theresa began thinking of the room that she'd turn into a nursery, the name of the child… If it was a girl, something beautiful and soft, no doubt. A boy… a noble name, a strong name that had presence. And she had to clutch across her torso again to hold her composure—the growing baby was giving her more strength than she would have imagined possible.

Finally on the third floor, Theresa rounded down the corridor and passed the artwork that decorated the walls as if it wasn't there. She was beginning to get nervous in wondering how Fox as going to react. Holding her stomach tight, Theresa headed into her bedroom to find Fox sleeping. With his arms securely around Whitney's waist.

______

Pulling up to the spot that he was all too familiar with, than put his black car in park. Staring up through the windshield, Ethan spotted her window. He knew exactly how far up to shift his eyes without having to guess. Staring at the empty window, he wished he could see her standing there just one last time. Thinking back to how it once was between them, when all they did was stare at each other everyday, he wondered if it had been better that way. But he knew that deep down inside, he wouldn't have traded their newest memories for anything in the world.

Reaching over to this glove compartment, he dug around until he found what he was looking for. He pulled out a piece of paper and a pen and began scrawling. Without something hard to write on, Ethan used his steering wheel to the best of his ability. Despite the strange texture of the curved and leather, the words poured out of him almost faster than he could write them.

Dear Theresa…

Ethan reread the words after he finished the letter. A part of him hated himself for what he was saying to her. But a part of him knew that he didn't have a choice—for his own sanity. Just as he was beginning to rethink the letter, he forced himself out of the car. Walking into the lobby of Crane Tower, Ethan headed for the elevator, just as he had grown accustomed to over the last few weeks when he paid his daily visits to Theresa.

As he ascended to Theresa's floor, Ethan stepped out of the elevator only to be immediately hit with Chris' singing voice. Approaching his desk, Ethan noted that another show for an unknown audience was taking place during Chris' newest interpretation of JLO's 'Do It Well'.

"Ahem," Ethan tried.

Chris danced in his chair before he turned to find Ethan staring at him. "Oh…,"he said as he pulled off his headphones. "Hey." Ethan smirked. "Uh, sorry. She's not back yet," Chris explained, inferring that Ethan's reason for stopping by was only related to the activities that he took part in with Theresa in her office during the day. "Maybe tomorrow." Chris smiled and put his headphones back on, assuming that Ethan would leave.

"No," Ethan began. "I just…" And then he pulled out a piece of paper from his breast pocket. "Do you have an envelope?"

Chris stared at him, confused for a second. "Oh. Yeah." After Chris gave him an envelope, Ethan tucked the letter in and handed it back to Chris.

"Can you give this to her, please? When she gets back?" Chris stared at the envelope suspiciously, wondering why Ethan wouldn't give it to her himself. But then he quickly realized that it was none of his business. As he took the envelope hesitantly, Ethan turned back towards the elevators.

He would miss the anticipation he felt of just stepping onto Theresa's floor. He would miss walking right past Chris and his newest attempt at Broadway at the Workplace. He would miss letting himself into her office. He would miss pressing her against the door, making her eyes lock with his. He would miss the way her mouth hung open after he kissed her. He would miss her.

But it had to be done.

The elevator dinged and Ethan stepped in. He said goodbye one last time and watched the silver doors close in front of him.

______

Could everything that had passed in the last few hours have been a dream? In all the scenarios that occupied her mind, Fox moving on quicker than it took her to make a decision was the last thing that she would have considered possible.

Her body was frozen, her legs stuck in their position. She stared at the intertwined two on her bed and almost choked. Her throat struggled to pass a breath. The only thing she could feel were fingers digging into her hip as she held her middle tighter and tighter. She was so still that her body began quivering. Theresa wasn't sure how long she had been standing there; whether it was only a few minutes, or if it had been hours, she couldn't tell.

Then Fox moved. Making the sound he always did when he first opened his eyes and attempted to stretch—the sound that Theresa was very familiar with—he rolled slightly, careful not to disturb the woman sleeping in his arms. As he woke, Theresa let loose the breath that she had been holding since she first walked in. Hearing the gasp at the door, Fox turned to see Theresa standing there, near ready to collapse.

"Theresa…?"

It was too early, too close to emotional trauma, for Fox to fully process what had just happened before him. All he knew was that Theresa was standing in the doorway, staring at him in shock. And pain.

Theresa stared on, locking eyes with Fox. Her breathing was hard and deep, as if she had been running for hours. What she saw before her was like watching a truck drive directly into her. She felt tears stinging at the back of her eyes, threatening to leak out. What she had just envisioned of family and babies and toys only seconds before, had suddenly left her mind. She began thinking about what she'd done and how she was going to fix it.

Her husband didn't want her anymore. He had chosen somebody else. He was laying in their own bed with his arms wrapped around his own wife's best friend. And she had sent the only man she could ever think of loving… away. She had told him to forget their love. She had stabbed his heart. Not once, but over and over again until it was mangled in pieces. She watched him go away. She watched him leave her life. But still, she was willing to sacrifice everything that she wanted for her husband. And she wondered why the fates hated her so.

Now she was watching her husband with his arms wrapped around another woman. And she wasn't going to have Ethan, she wasn't going to have the family that would comfort her from losing him. As she began crying, she tried to cover her mouth but she was unable to block a few gasps that escaped. With her standing there, he knew that it meant one thing: the baby was his. For if the baby had been Ethan's, he was sure that he never would have seen her again. Despite the fact that the knowledge cut into him like a burning blade, Fox couldn't deny the quick exhilaration that filled his heart at the silent news.

Finally able to fully comprehend just what was going on, Fox immediately pulled is arms from around Whitney and sat up. "Theresa, no," he said as he put his hands up in defense.

Tears rolled down and Theresa pressed her mouth harder with her hand to ensure that no sound would come out. She was shaking, unable to move her legs. Just as another wave of pain was hitting her in the chest, her hand fell back across her torso and grabbed tight. Without a cover to shield the sound, her throat let loose a gasping cry.

"Fox…?" Whitney said as Theresa's cry woke her from sleep. She rolled to the side, where he was just laying.

Somehow, the electricity was recharged in Theresa's muscles and she quickly turned and ran from the room. Fox quickly lifted himself from the bed without even looking at Whitney.

"Theresa!" he called after her.

And Whitney laid in bed, her humiliation starting to creep back over. She wasn't able to find her voice to call after Fox as he ran from the room after Theresa.

"Theresa! Wait!" Fox ran down the hallway and he was able to spot Theresa running down the stairs to the foyer. "Wait! Please!"

With one hand over her stomach, and one over her mouth, Theresa raced down the stairs and was grateful to see the front door so close. Just as she was about to reach for the doorknob, Fox's hand pulled on her arm.

"Theresa, please," he tried. "I swear it's not what you think."

Theresa stood rigid, her arm firmly grasped in his hand. She wanted to run away, she wanted to scream, she wanted to fall, she wanted to cry; she clutched her torso tighter. All she could think about was the dust behind Ethan's tires as he drove away. More tears came as she remembered the pain of collapsing and realizing that he was gone. She had let him go for no reason at all.

"Theresa…," Fox whispered. As he felt her body grow relaxed, he gently pulled her to face him. "I'm sorry," he said softly.

Theresa stared at him, her eyes glassy and red. She believed him because she could see the sorrow in his eyes. But that didn't change what had happened. She shook her head, turning her eyes down.

"I should have known," she said through tears.

Fox pushed fallen strands of hair behind her ears and lifted her face back up. "Known what?"he asked tenderly.

Theresa's mind kept replaying images of Fox holding Whitney. "What I did to you was terrible, Fox. I don't blame you for wanting to move on… to someone else." She tried to smile through her tears to show that she was made of steel—the smile faded as soon as she pulled her lips over her teeth.

"What?" Fox asked as he again traced strands of hair behind her ear. "I… What happened with Whitney, Theresa, it meant nothing to me. Nothing."

Theresa stared at the floor, her mind flashing pictures of Ethan kissing her hand. Ethan driving away. The dust behind him. Collapsing. Then: It meant nothing to me. Theresa suddenly was able to focus on Fox's words. It. What was he telling her?

Without realizing her reaction, Theresa quickly pulled away from Fox. "What are you talking about?" she said angrily.

Fox's heart started breaking. It was then that he realized that she had no idea what had happened, and he had just informed her. He was going to destroy her and she was obviously already in the process. He hated himself even more for what he was going to have to do to her.

"What do you mean 'It meant nothing'?" she started shouting.

Fox took a deep breath, afraid of what he would have to say to her. "I'm so sorry, Theresa."

He hadn't answered her question and suddenly everything started to fall into place. Taking another step back from him, Theresa's eyes turned from agonized to furious. "You slept with her," she stated. Fox said nothing and at the shock, both of Theresa's hands went to wrap around her torso. "You. Slept. With. Her!"

The pain in her voice hurt Fox's heart. "Yes," he admitted in a sigh.

"But I…."

Theresa looked around in shock, unable to believe what was happening. Ethan was gone. She had said goodbye to the man that would never leave her heart. And for what? Her husband, the man that she had left Ethan for, had slept with her best friend. The world was collapsing beneath her feet and there was nothing for her to grab onto.

Theresa didn't know what to say. She felt lost in the fog that remained after a storm. Only the storm wasn't over and she knew that Ethan was on the other side of the thickening fog—but she had no way of getting to him now.

"Theresa…?" Fox asked slowly, afraid of her sudden silence.

She looked up with angry eyes. "We could have been a family," she said coldly.

Fox understood what she was telling him and his panic grew sharply. "But we still can," his desperation came out quickly.

Theresa shook her head in protest. "No. We can't." Staring him down, letting him know that she was serious, Theresa turned quickly and opened the door. Just as she was about to step out onto the porch, Fox grabbed her arm again, this time harder than before.

"Theresa, wait! Please! Let me explain!"

Theresa spun. "What is there to explain? I had an affair with Ethan, a man that I've always loved, a man that I gave up to be a family with you and our child. And you slept with Whitney." She stared at him, her eyes harder than he had ever seen them. "And that's it."

As she spoke of loving Ethan, Fox's heart felt as if it had died; atrophied and decaying, the muscle hung in his chest just as useless as an extra appendix. But his heart refused to listen to him. It refused to stop loving Theresa. And that refusal kept his heart alive—barely, but alive, nonetheless. Before he had a chance to get angry, which he knew would only push her farther away and end any chances that were left for them to be together once again, Fox quickly reeled back into his plea.

"Theresa, please." She tried for the door and Fox stopped her again. "No, it's not what you think. I had too much to drink. I was drunk," he began defending himself. "I was drunk and I was upset—"

"Stop it!" Theresa yelled.

"No, please, listen to me, Theresa," Fox pleaded. "I was drunk. I was confused. Whitney came to talk to me. All I could see was you, Theresa. I only saw you. I swear."

Theresa nodded in sarcastic understanding. "Yes, Fox! We look so much alike!"

"I swear! I was drunk. I didn't know what was happening, Theresa! I wanted it to be you, Theresa! I love you. Only you!"

Theresa thought about what Fox was saying to her and tried to imagine it. She knew there were times that she imagined Ethan above her as she made love with Fox. But she always had to push Ethan's image away. She never thought she was actually making love to Ethan while with Fox—it was always her imagination.

"Theresa, please… you have to believe me. That—that Whitney doesn't mean anything to me. You mean everything to me."

Theresa's tears spilled over and onto her cheeks.

"Please… Theresa… don't go. I love you."

Looking down, Theresa nodded, trying to find her words. "I know," she said softly. "But I still don't believe you."

Fox panicked. "No, Theresa. Please! Don't do this! We can be the family that I always dreamed about! Give me a chance, Theresa! Please! I'll do anything… Please. I want to be a father!"

Again she nodded. "I know you do."

She felt as if something were trying to speak to her from the inside of her body, something quiet and distant. But what it was saying, she pushed down deep inside of her. Clutching her belly, she stepped on her toes and kissed Fox's cheek. She walked out of the house without Fox trying to stop her this time; he was too heartbroken to walk. This time he couldn't blame Ethan for losing Theresa. It was all his fault.

As he watched her walk down the steps of the house, Fox wondered if he would ever see her again. Something inside of him was whispering and he didn't want to admit the fact that he'd always known the answer: if there was a way for Ethan and Theresa to be together, he had no place in her life. And he had just given Theresa the way. The fury inside of him was building again, but it was a calmer fury. A fury built out of a brewing storm that didn't have the wind to support it. And he could swear that he could feel his heart detaching from his body.

He stared after her, watching her walk down the long driveway. As she approached the gates, he saw a long black limo near her. Theresa stepped in hesitantly and Fox felt his heart slip away. Theresa was gone, he was alone, his child was gone, and he was to blame. Feeling the onset of tears, the tears that Cranes weren't allowed to cry, Fox turned around quickly.

Then he saw Whitney.

She stood on the stairs, leaning against the railing of the second floor. Her hands were wrapped around the wooden rod for support, her chest still in breath, her eyes wide and wet. She looked like she was in shock. Again. She had heard everything that Fox said to Theresa.

It meant nothing.

Nothing.

Whitney had been forced through a shredder twice in one day and she couldn't take it anymore. She felt as if her mind were ready to break, just as her heart had. Fox looked up to her, his heart—whatever was left of it—broke yet again. He couldn't seem to escape hurting the women that meant the most to him. Looking up to her with more sorrow in his eyes, he watched her fall suddenly.

Whitney collapsed, her body falling against the railing, her throat letting loose a sharp moan.

______

Harold saw Theresa crossing the front lawn of the estate and wondered where she could be going. As she headed for the front gates, Harold put the car in drive and headed towards her. When the limo stopped next to her, Theresa was confused at first. When she recognized Harold sitting in the front seat, she quickly climbed in.

"Where can I take you, Miss Theresa?"

Barely thinking, let alone thinking straight, Theresa's mind worked without considering the consequences or what it could mean for the future of her child.

Ethan.

"Ethan Winthrop's apartment, please." As the words left her lips, Theresa felt a kind of release that had been building since she saw the dust fly after him.

Theresa sat in the backseat, slowly realizing that she had nothing important with her. Her purse was still at her house. It didn't matter, though, she thought. Ethan would take care of her. She bounced between different scenarios of how Ethan would accept her. He would see her and think her a mirage. He would be so happy that he would be brought to tears. He would take her in his arms and hold her tighter than he ever had. He would propose to her right then and there. He would say nothing, take her lips with his, and make love to her every single day as he'd told her when he explained how their life could be.

The closer they drew to his apartment, the more anxious Theresa became. She was sure that Ethan would understand her small lapse in judgment. Ethan didn't need to know about the most recent betrayal of Fox and Whitney; she didn't want him to think that he came second to her. Ethan was always first. She was just putting her child ahead of herself. But now she realized that Ethan was what was best for her child—there was nothing better than seeing the strongest love and growing up with it every single day, she was sure of it.

Soon enough, Harold made it to Ethan's apartment building. Barely waiting for Harold to stop the limo, Theresa jumped out and ran to the door. Entering the lobby, Theresa was about to get to the elevator when the concierge stopped her.

"Can I help you with something, ma'am?"

Theresa almost ran into the desk, recognizing the man. "Yes! Hi. Can you let me up to Mr. Winthrop's penthouse, please?"

The concierge remembered Theresa. He had seen her often, going upstairs with Ethan. He had seen them quite regularly rushing into an elevator, and before the doors even closed, they had attacked each other and started removing clothes.

"I'm sorry, ma'am. He hasn't returned yet. Perhaps you'd like to wait for him down here?"

Theresa checked her watch, curious as to where Ethan could be. He wouldn't have gone back to work. She had seen him a few hours ago and she found it odd that he was still out in Harmony without returning home.

Theresa smiled at the concierge and decided to have a seat by the door. She waited and waited, each minute slowly ticking by in painful anxiety. After almost forty minutes, Theresa gave the concierge a half smile before she returned to the waiting limo outside.

When she got back in the limo, Theresa wondered where she could possibly go. She didn't want to go back home, afraid of encountering Fox and Whitney again. The very thought of them wrapped in each other's arms in her bed made her arm fall across her middle. Realizing that she had no where else to go, and with Ethan still not home, she instructed Harold to drive to Crane Tower.

The building was empty, everyone gone for the day. But Theresa owned the building. She walked slowly to the elevator and dragged herself to her office. Opening the door, she noticed the large windows behind her desk. Immediately she thought of Ethan pressing his naked weight against hers on the window for all of Harmony to see. But she never cared. Despite everything that had passed during the day, she smiled.

Suddenly exhausted from the day's events, she went to one of the couches in the center of the room. Laying down, she was happy to be alone for just a few minutes. Now that everything was pointing her in Ethan's direction, she felt hopeful. Tomorrow, she would find Ethan, tell him everything. She would tell him that the fantasy that he had with the baby and with her was finally going to come true.

They could finally be together.

Staring up at the dark ceiling, she remembered opening her eyes to it only a few days before, before everything exploded in her face like a grenade. She remembered looking up, her chest hot and sweaty under Ethan. Her fingers had raked into his hair, her fingertips had pressed him close to her. They moved together, their breathing a mixture of sighs and gasps. Ethan had started shaking, his muscles growing harder. Theresa's hips had followed his as her hands pressed into his lower back to guide him. As Ethan had finished, he stared into her eyes, his throat pulsing and his chest heaving and said, "God, I love you."

Remembering the last time on the very same couch, Theresa couldn't help but smile again. She hoped that she and Ethan would once again find themselves in the same passionate embraces. Turning on her side, she closed her eyes to more memories of Ethan. And some were even fantasies for their coming future.

The next morning, Chris let himself into Theresa's office with some new proposals for her to look at. He laid the papers on her desk, spinning in a new number with "I'm coming up! I want the world to know!" And then he saw Theresa on the couch in front of him. Just as embarrassment flooded his face in a blush, he realized that she was sleeping still.

"T?" Chris approached her, almost not sure if he wanted to wake her. As he touched her shoulder, she twitched awake. "Hey."

Theresa rolled to her back and stretched. Chris was above her and she was still in her office—the office where she and Ethan had made so many memories.

"T, what are you doing here?" Chris asked, concerned.

As Theresa focused on her answer, she realized that Chris had no idea what had happened. Thinking back on what had passed in the day before, depression grabbed hold of her. Her memory focused on images of watching Ethan's tires spin away and the dust that flew behind them. Fox and Whitney… Before she began speaking of the most painful in recent events, she had to remind herself that Chris knew nothing of the baby and the sudden fall of her marriage.

Theresa explained that when she finally had decided to tell Fox what was going on between her and Ethan, she collapsed and woke up in a hospital bed a few hours later. She went into detail about how scared she was at first, wondering just what she had said in her unconsciousness. Yet, she realized soon afterwards, that Fox had already known of her betrayal.

"How long?" Chris interrupted suddenly.

Then Theresa paused. She realized that she had no idea; she never thought to ask just how long Fox had been silent while his wife continued to commit adultery with his half-brother.

"I don't know," she replied.

Chris cringed, imagining the scene before him. "How angry was he?"

Theresa thought about it, the tears coming back to her eyes as she remembered. "He wasn't." At Chris' confused stare, she added, "He was hurt."

Theresa continued telling the story, next moving to Ethan's arrival. Fox seemed calm and too composed. But as he taunted Ethan with the knowledge that the father was unknown still, he seemed to take pleasure. Theresa remembered Fox leaving, and then Ethan leaving. She told him that she didn't remember falling asleep, or even closing her eyes for that matter. All she knew was that she woke up in an empty hospital room alone with her face wet with tears.

Chris stared at her for a few minutes before he could find his next question. "So…," he began nervously, "who's the father?"

Theresa wiped a tear from her eye before she faced Chris again. Just as she opened her mouth to answer, her voice caught. It was almost as if she didn't want to say the words. With every resolve she had in her to take her life in Ethan's direction, a part of her still fell away when thinking about leaving Fox—the father—behind.

"T?"

Theresa could only smile at him, hoping that he would get what she was silently telling her.

Chris nodded. "Did you tell Fox?"

Then Theresa remembered her thoughts as she entered her home, thinking of her baby and themes for the nursery. And then she opened the doors to her bedroom. She felt as if she'd been hit with a tornado and the wind was funneled out of her body with a quick sweep. Everything had fallen away from her in that instant. Thinking back to it now, all she could remember were the blurring artworks on the walls as she ran past them, her eyes tearing rapidly.

"Yes, he knows," Theresa stated.

Chris noted the dark and far off look in Theresa's eyes. Understandably, he'd seen that look over the past two years and knew that it was her circumstances that had caused it. Yet, this was good for her. Finally, she was going to be able to gain some kind of change from it all. He was happy for her.

"This is good, T," he said, grabbing her hand. "You and Ethan have another chance." He smiled at her.

He didn't understand. Theresa shook her head. "No, you've got it wrong, Chris. Ethan isn't the father," Theresa whispered, turning her head down.

Then Chris did understand. That far off look in her eyes wasn't due to her guilt of betraying Ethan. The baby that was growing inside of her was not of the man she desperately wanted to be with.

"Oh…," was all he could think to say.

Just when Chris thought the story was done, Theresa continued. She went into details about finding Whitney in her bed with Fox's arms wrapped around her. At first, she began telling him, she suspected that he had simply decided to move on from his cheating wife. But then, as their confrontation grew, she learned that in a drunken stupor, he had slept with her best friend. And the family she gave Ethan up for was shattered in an instant.

Deciding it too painful to vocally relive Ethan leaving her on the cliffs, Theresa skipped that part of the story and cut it short to, "When I told him about Fox being the father, I also told him that I had to be a loyal wife." She added something about Ethan leaving quickly, but couldn't bring herself to go into it further.

"I… uh—" She had to wipe another tear before she continued. "I went to his apartment building and waited for him. I wanted to explain to him that I made a bad decision and I can't live without him." The words, ringing entirely true, seemed to cut her throat open and made her clutch around her neck for support. "He didn't show up so I came here."

Theresa finally turned back up to Chris, telling him that her story was complete.

"Wow," Chris said slowly. "Quite a day."

Theresa nodded, tossing the fresh wounds around in her head. "Yeah."

"Well, um, should I get you anything? You should eat something. You know," he said, pointing to her stomach, "because of your condition."

Theresa sat up, pulling the afghan off of herself, stretching. "No, thank you. I'm going to head over to Ethan's again and wait for him. I'm sure he'll take care of me." The way she said the last sentence made her smile and Chris could swear that he saw more light in her eyes than he had in a while.

That's when he remembered.

And he suddenly had an idea of what lay inside his drawer.

Theresa got up and started toeing on her shoes. "I'm just going to go to Ethan's, and everything will be fine," she sang.

Chris' heart broke for her. He could feel the darkness cloud over and he was suddenly afraid for her. But there was nothing he could do.

"Uh, T?"

Still smiling, she turned to him. "Yeah?"

"Ethan stopped in yesterday," he hesitated to tell her.

Something clicked in Theresa's mind and she smiled even greater. "Oh, that's why he wasn't home. He was probably here, waiting for me, right?"

Chris weighed his options and felt bad for having to be responsible for breaking her heart. Without having read the letter, he knew that what was written was not something that Theresa wanted or needed to hear.

Putting his hand up, Chris went to his desk to retrieve the envelope and returned to her office. He stared at the blank white envelope and knew there was nothing he could do now. He couldn't hide it from her, even it had wanted to. She would have eventually found out in a much harder fashion. As he handed it to her, he watched the smile disappear from her face. Perhaps she could also feel what was inside. Or maybe his own face had given away his fears.

"I'll give you a minute," he said, taking his leave and closing the door behind him.

The elation that Theresa had just felt was suddenly gone. The look on Chris' face was enough to tell her that something was wrong. She was scared and took the letter into her shaking hands, not sure if she had the strength to read. She stared at the envelope for a while, finally retaking her seat on the couch. She turned it over and moved the flap with her thumb. It had never been sealed, but it somehow felt as if it weren't open yet.

Summoning strength she knew she would need, Theresa grabbed hold of her torso and pulled out the folded piece of paper.

Dear Theresa,

I need you to know something: I love you. More than you know. More than I know. And that's why I know I'm doing the right thing.

What we had, Theresa, is more than love. We share something that can't be explained in words or lived out in one lifetime. You always said it was fate. But if I've learned anything, it's fate for us not to be together. We've tested it many times, and it's time to accept that it just wasn't meant. I love you too much to keep pulling you in different directions. You know what you want now and I'm not going to stand in your way. I will remove myself from your life. I owe you that much after all the pain you've suffered at my hand.

You told me to forget. The truth is, I can't. I will never forget what it's like to wake up with you sleeping next to me. I can't erase your soft and vibrant smell from my mind. The way you feel, the way you make me feel, when you touch me, Theresa… I'll never be able to forget you, Theresa. Never.

But in time, I'm hoping that it'll all become a distant memory that I'll learn to live with.

I love you. Always.

Ethan

Theresa stared at the words, rereading the letter over and over again. The first time, she scanned the words quickly. But nothing really made any sense to her. She read the letter again from start to finish. Then something pricked her inside. The third time she read it, she could swear that something was beginning to saw at her ribs. The fourth time her eyes moved over the letter, her arm grabbed tighter against her body, finally realizing what she was reading. The fifth time, her fingers were digging painfully into her hipbone. The sixth time the sawing inside was becoming a ripping. Seven times started tears forming. The eighth read stopped her breathing. The ninth time, she thought that something had been plunged into her chest, allowing a fountain of blood to spill out. By the time she read it the twenty third time and noticed that the words hadn't changed at all, her hand fisted around the paper and she fell to the couch.

First in shock, she wasn't able to move. Then, as the words replayed in her head over and over again, her chest felt as if it were ripping open in flame. She could swear that someone had punched through her body, leaving a gaping hole. The hole began spreading, consuming her tissue, her organs, bleeding her life to the ground. The bigger the hole ripped open, the lower it seemed to spread. The pain rippled over her chest, down her ribs, to her stomach. Her arm grabbed even tighter, and then the pain got even worse. With the emotional torrents suddenly crashing down on her mixed with the physical pain, she couldn't be sure which hurt worse.

She turned her head down into the couch, grabbed her belly tight and screamed in her agony.