When they arrived home from Quebec, there was a request from James' lawyer that Alex and James attend mediation in the hopes of settling the divorce without involving lawyers any further.

Alex had been hesitant – namely to be in the same room as him after how things had gone the last time they'd been face to face – but Emily had convinced her that it would save her a crap ton of money in legal fees if they could resolve it out of court.

Which is how she ended up sitting across from James in a mediation office feeling perhaps a little awkward under the weight of their history. She attempted a smile, though, because she didn't want him to think she had animosity towards him (or any secrets from him).

"I miss you, Alex," he said quietly, his gaze surprisingly soft as he watched her.

She sighed. "James..." she murmured. She couldn't meet his eyes, there were too many emotions there that she didn't want to face.

He shook his head. "No, just hear me out. We were together for over twenty years, you can't tell me everything you felt is totally gone." His words were almost a plea and it was bizarre to hear – she wasn't sure she'd ever heard him beg for anything before.

"James, what we had..." She shook her head. "We barely know each other anymore – we've barely seen each other in years. It's only natural that we've grown apart."

He reached for her hand, only to have her pull it out of reach at the last moment. "We can grow back together, though. We just have to want to," he insisted.

She sighed. "Where is this coming from?"

Several long moments passed. James attempted a smile. "Just...meet me for drinks?" he begged. "Please?"


She couldn't have said why she ultimately agreed to meet her soon-to-be ex-husband for drinks. Especially when Emily was waiting at home for her. But something – some nagging little voice in the back of her mind – made her walk into the bar.

"You have twenty minutes to say whatever it is you need to say," she informed him curtly as she settled into the booth across from him.

He chose to ignore her gruff attitude, though. "You still drink vodka cranberries?" he asked, pushing a glass across the table.

Staring down at the glass of red liquid, her mind flashed back to that first night at Emily's bar, to the taste of her kiss and the way it had made her feel like the only person in the world.

"Do you remember the day you turned twenty-one?" James asked, interrupting her thoughtful fugue. "I took you to a bar, you drank one vodka cranberry, then threw up almost immediately – you thought you were bleeding internally." He smiled as he reminisced.

She nodded. "I do remember, actually." It wasn't exactly a pleasant memory...

He chuckled. "I walked you to that little all-night drug store so you could buy mouthwash and I got down on one knee right there and proposed."

"Not the most romantic proposal in history," she teased.

"Hey!" he protested. "I knew right then that it didn't matter what we were doing, I wanted to be doing it together. For the rest of our lives." He gave her a significant look, reached for her hand and squeezing it when she didn't pull away.

For several moments, Alex stared down at their entwined hands. "James..." she whispered. "What are you doing?"

He squeezed her hand tighter. "Give me another chance, Ally. Please..."

She opened her mouth to protest, but before the words could escape, he'd captured her lips in a kiss. She whimpered softly into the kiss, but didn't stop it...because in that moment, it all came rushing back: their past, the very real love that had – at one time – connected them. It was all still there.

"Alex..." he breathed, lips ghosting across hers. His hand traced up her thigh, edging under her dress.

She couldn't have said why she nodded, letting out a shaky breath as his knuckles brushed her core through her panties, but it was far from a coherent thought.

She let him lead her to the bathroom where he slammed her back against the wall, once again sealing her lips in a kiss. He pulled her breast from the confines of her dress, palming it roughly through the lace of her bra.

"James..." she panted, arm wrapped around his neck as he moved to trail kisses down her throat. Her other hand worked at the button of his jeans.

He turned her to face the wall, pushing her dress up and tugging down her panties, then lining himself up with her entrance and pushing inside, making her cry out. "Fuck..." he groaned. "Alex, you're so fucking tight."

She pressed her hands against the wall, letting her head loll forward as he gripped her hips tightly, keeping her canted to receive his thrusts. "James..." she moaned. "Fuck, yes!"

With a breathy laugh, he said, "You're fucking soaked, Alex, it feels so good."

"Hurry," she begged. "Faster."

Obliging, he sped up his thrusts, pounding into her until she was whimpering, mewling. "Alex, I'm going to cum..." he warned.

She nodded shakily, bringing her hand down to rub her clit furiously to bring herself off just before he spilled his climax inside her with a guttural cry.


Emily was fast asleep when Alex tiptoed into the bedroom, trying to ignore the surge of guilt flooding through her. Shutting herself in the bathroom, she caught her reflection in the mirror, barely recognizing the woman who stared back.

She'd told Emily she loved her. That she was her everything. That she couldn't live without her. And then she had turned around and fucked her (ex?) husband in a bar bathroom. She didn't deserve Emily. And she certainly couldn't face her, not when James' cum was still dripping out of her.

She stepped into the shower, water hot enough to scald the memories of the evening off of her...but had just barely had the chance to calm her heart rate when she heard a knock on the bathroom door.

"Alex?" Emily called out. "Just making sure you got home safe. You were kind of late getting in, so I was worried."

Alex choked out a sob.

Silently, she vowed that Emily would never know the truth of what happened that night.