Former Choices
Chapter Ten
Author's notes: This story is now complete! I just want to thank all the people who were very patient and waited for the chapters to be done, and also Amber for making these last few weeks mean more than they would have normally, and Laura and Adina and Meg, just because all three of you are amazing. Oh, and Amanda Marshall.
Her skirt was short and black, its skintight material clinging to her legs and leaving very little to the imagination. As she approached him he caught sight of the high slit on the left side of it and her dark, smooth skin spilling out of the absence of fabric just enough to make his eyes widen.
"Hey, Warrick," she said, her voice low, and took a seat beside him. His heart pounding, he cleared his throat and shifted in his chair, pretending not to notice that he was seeing more of her legs than he had dared to think about in a long time. "I'm glad you could make it on such short notice."
"You said there was a problem with Arianna," Warrick reminded her, his eyes shifting from object to object around the large room. "So where is she?"
Vanessa pouted. "You don't want to talk to me?" She let go of a small smile and he watched guiltily as it spread across her full lips. "I got all dressed up for nothing, then."
He wouldn't take the opportunity to let his eyes run over her outfit again. "Where's Arianna?" he repeated, growing more uncomfortable.
She frowned and pointed toward the staircase. "She's in her room. Like I said on the phone, she won't come out, and she's been in there almost the whole day." Her eyes locked with his in a look he knew all too well. "I knew I could count on you to help."
"I'll do whatever I can, but I'm not making any promises," he told her, moving to the stairs, trying not to notice how she followed him.
"I'm just no good at this mother thing," Vanessa said, running a hand through her hair. She climbed the stairs alongside him, and he knew that if he looked a couple of inches to the left, once again her mostly-bare legs would be staring back at him.
Climbing the last step, he turned to face her and spoke. "Did you really dress that way for me?" His tone was inexpressive, but she immediately took the question the wrong way.
"I sure did," she said coyly, and moved toward him, but he swivelled around and walked up to Arianna's door before she could touch him.
Trying the handle, he realized the door was locked. "Arianna?" he called, knocking furiously, "It's Uncle Warrick, could you please open the door?"
No answer.
He shook his head, then knocked again. "Arianna, come on, please let me in."
Her voice seemed to slip under the door and its high-pitched, angry sound made Warrick wince. "No! I don't want anybody else in here, just leave me alone!"
He turned to Vanessa. "What did you do?" he asked her quietly, his face betraying how close to anger he was.
She shrugged. "I didn't do anything, I swear. She just came home from school and went up to her bedroom and she won't come out." She looked at him more closely. "I've got a key for this door, we could always unlock it."
His left eyebrow climbed. "Let's wait a while longer before we do that, give her some privacy." He guided her by the small of her back to the stairwell.
"Okay. Want a drink while you're waiting?"
Later they were seated in the living room, sipping red wine from tall champagne glasses. Warrick's legs were crossed, and he was leaning back comfortably in a huge winged-back chair. Vanessa was staring intently at Warrick, her eyes fixed on some spot on his sweater.
The alcohol had given Warrick a kind of buzz, so he set his glass down and ran his fingers through his hair. "What time is it?" he murmured, mostly to himself, and glanced at his watch. Vanessa inched closer to him on the coach. His heart thumping, he tried not to notice the rich colour of her skin or the sweet way she smelled.
Then, suddenly, her breath was in his ear and she was whispering, "Are you going to leave, Warrick?" Her hand slowly went to his arm and the hairs she touched felt like they were on fire. He closed his eyes. He stopped thinking until her hand moved to his leg.
He stood, faced her, and stared. "I'm not that man anymore, Vanessa," he said. As he moved toward the door his hands were shaking, and he almost jumped when she spoke.
"Come on, Warrick, just once. She doesn't have to know."
He shook his head, his back still to her. "Life's too short, Vanessa, and I love her too much." When she sighed, he looked at her and said quietly, "I'm not going to let you hurt me again."
He slammed the door after him.
"All that I am you have made me
And baby, I know that it's true
I'd give it all up in a heartbeat
Just to spend every moment with you
There's no place that I wouldn't follow
There's nothing that I wouldn't do
'Cause I wouldn't wanna be me
If I didn't have you"
-Amanda Marshall, If I Didn't Have You
He closed the door softly behind him that night, knowing Lindsey would be asleep. He didn't want to disturb her. Across the dimly-lit living room he could see the thin outline of Catherine asleep in a chair, her mouth open slightly.
He took a step. She jerked awake. "You're late," she said, and her voice resonated through the room.
"Sorry," Warrick said in a hushed whisper, as if he was still trying not to wake her up.
She blinked a couple of times, stretched, and stood. "I've been waiting here for what seems like forever. Where have you been?"
"Just out," he replied, knowing it would only make her more angry. Before she burst he said, "Tell me you love me."
"What?!" Her question was loud and disruptive, causing his eyes to widen. He should have known better. She was pissed at him, and he was asking her to say the three words she hadn't said in almost a year.
He crossed the room slowly, laying a hand on her shoulder, and tried to speak to her using just his eyes. Her glare had softened considerably. "Tell me you love me," he repeated.
She sighed, frowning at his abruptness. When he smiled slightly she seemed to become even more confused. "What's wrong with you?"
"Nothing," he said, frowning and reaching down to stroke her cheek. Leaning in to brush his lips against hers, he sighed against her mouth and rested his hand on the small of her back.
"What the hell are you doing?"
Her bewildered voice cut through the tranquility of the room. Warrick winced. "I'm sorry?" More a question than an apology, his words seemed to hang on her raised eyebrow, waiting to be accepted by her facial expression.
"You know, I really don't understand you," she began, but he cut her off with a forceful kiss, making the words into a mumble. She resisted at first, but gave in when he pushed his body against hers, pinning her to the wall behind her.
He needed this. Needed to be reminded why he had come home today in the first place. Catherine's shirt reminded him of Vanessa's. Her breath was soft and warm like Vanessa's. He needed to be able to feel Catherine's hand pressed against his neck without thinking of Vanessa. He needed to know if there was any shred of dignity left for him to hold onto.
When someone first falls in love, their minds are completely intoxicated with that person. Obsession takes them over. They eat, drink, dream that person. Exhilaration fills their lungs, they become a new person with a new life to live. Every day is filled with a beautiful sense of wonder that fills them heart and soul.
Time goes on. Years pass. That love soon becomes stale. The very thing they found so fascinating in the first place - that is how loving them was like breathing- is the thing that has become their undoing. Love is no longer an exciting new emotion. It's an everyday activity that is like routine, like going through actions. They become less like lovers and more like robots.
Warrick needed to get back that obsession. He needed something to reinforce the love he knew was buried somewhere amidst the clutter this house held. He was being pulled away from his family by some kind of undertow, and he prayed to God that tonight would be his lifeboat.
She responded with such force to his advances, such passion, that he knew it had been way too long since he had acted this way towards her. Mumbling her name into the skin of her neck, he felt with his hands as the hairs on her back stood on end from his touch. The thought that he could cause this reaction made him kiss her even deeper until she was begging him for more.
To her, he was the only thing she had left, her last chance at a life of love, her last hope for a partner to spend the rest of that life with.
To him, she was his last chance. The only thing standing in the way of diving wholly and completely into the deep end. The only reason he hadn't already given up.
Vanessa, his ex-wife. His first love. The woman who he still desired, still wanted. Catherine, the woman who he had pledged his life to. The woman who had said she would have bared his children had it not been too late. The woman he had spent the last three years of his life giving himself over to.
Running his hands up and down her back, he could feel every fibre of his being become electrified. This is where he belonged. This is where he needed to be. With her. Looking down into her eyes he saw every reason he had fallen in love with her and then, every reason he hadn't given into Vanessa.
Later, she sighed, letting him curl up beside her and kiss her shoulder. His eyelids were heavy, and he began to drift into a sleep that seemed like the perfect ending to a wonderful night. The scent of her calmed his breathing, and soon he was barely awake.
"Warrick?" He didn't answer, too loaded down with the sweetest exhaustion to say anything. She sighed, obviously thinking he had fallen asleep. Then, through the fuzziness of his sleepy mind he heard, "I love you."
Chapter Ten
Author's notes: This story is now complete! I just want to thank all the people who were very patient and waited for the chapters to be done, and also Amber for making these last few weeks mean more than they would have normally, and Laura and Adina and Meg, just because all three of you are amazing. Oh, and Amanda Marshall.
Her skirt was short and black, its skintight material clinging to her legs and leaving very little to the imagination. As she approached him he caught sight of the high slit on the left side of it and her dark, smooth skin spilling out of the absence of fabric just enough to make his eyes widen.
"Hey, Warrick," she said, her voice low, and took a seat beside him. His heart pounding, he cleared his throat and shifted in his chair, pretending not to notice that he was seeing more of her legs than he had dared to think about in a long time. "I'm glad you could make it on such short notice."
"You said there was a problem with Arianna," Warrick reminded her, his eyes shifting from object to object around the large room. "So where is she?"
Vanessa pouted. "You don't want to talk to me?" She let go of a small smile and he watched guiltily as it spread across her full lips. "I got all dressed up for nothing, then."
He wouldn't take the opportunity to let his eyes run over her outfit again. "Where's Arianna?" he repeated, growing more uncomfortable.
She frowned and pointed toward the staircase. "She's in her room. Like I said on the phone, she won't come out, and she's been in there almost the whole day." Her eyes locked with his in a look he knew all too well. "I knew I could count on you to help."
"I'll do whatever I can, but I'm not making any promises," he told her, moving to the stairs, trying not to notice how she followed him.
"I'm just no good at this mother thing," Vanessa said, running a hand through her hair. She climbed the stairs alongside him, and he knew that if he looked a couple of inches to the left, once again her mostly-bare legs would be staring back at him.
Climbing the last step, he turned to face her and spoke. "Did you really dress that way for me?" His tone was inexpressive, but she immediately took the question the wrong way.
"I sure did," she said coyly, and moved toward him, but he swivelled around and walked up to Arianna's door before she could touch him.
Trying the handle, he realized the door was locked. "Arianna?" he called, knocking furiously, "It's Uncle Warrick, could you please open the door?"
No answer.
He shook his head, then knocked again. "Arianna, come on, please let me in."
Her voice seemed to slip under the door and its high-pitched, angry sound made Warrick wince. "No! I don't want anybody else in here, just leave me alone!"
He turned to Vanessa. "What did you do?" he asked her quietly, his face betraying how close to anger he was.
She shrugged. "I didn't do anything, I swear. She just came home from school and went up to her bedroom and she won't come out." She looked at him more closely. "I've got a key for this door, we could always unlock it."
His left eyebrow climbed. "Let's wait a while longer before we do that, give her some privacy." He guided her by the small of her back to the stairwell.
"Okay. Want a drink while you're waiting?"
Later they were seated in the living room, sipping red wine from tall champagne glasses. Warrick's legs were crossed, and he was leaning back comfortably in a huge winged-back chair. Vanessa was staring intently at Warrick, her eyes fixed on some spot on his sweater.
The alcohol had given Warrick a kind of buzz, so he set his glass down and ran his fingers through his hair. "What time is it?" he murmured, mostly to himself, and glanced at his watch. Vanessa inched closer to him on the coach. His heart thumping, he tried not to notice the rich colour of her skin or the sweet way she smelled.
Then, suddenly, her breath was in his ear and she was whispering, "Are you going to leave, Warrick?" Her hand slowly went to his arm and the hairs she touched felt like they were on fire. He closed his eyes. He stopped thinking until her hand moved to his leg.
He stood, faced her, and stared. "I'm not that man anymore, Vanessa," he said. As he moved toward the door his hands were shaking, and he almost jumped when she spoke.
"Come on, Warrick, just once. She doesn't have to know."
He shook his head, his back still to her. "Life's too short, Vanessa, and I love her too much." When she sighed, he looked at her and said quietly, "I'm not going to let you hurt me again."
He slammed the door after him.
"All that I am you have made me
And baby, I know that it's true
I'd give it all up in a heartbeat
Just to spend every moment with you
There's no place that I wouldn't follow
There's nothing that I wouldn't do
'Cause I wouldn't wanna be me
If I didn't have you"
-Amanda Marshall, If I Didn't Have You
He closed the door softly behind him that night, knowing Lindsey would be asleep. He didn't want to disturb her. Across the dimly-lit living room he could see the thin outline of Catherine asleep in a chair, her mouth open slightly.
He took a step. She jerked awake. "You're late," she said, and her voice resonated through the room.
"Sorry," Warrick said in a hushed whisper, as if he was still trying not to wake her up.
She blinked a couple of times, stretched, and stood. "I've been waiting here for what seems like forever. Where have you been?"
"Just out," he replied, knowing it would only make her more angry. Before she burst he said, "Tell me you love me."
"What?!" Her question was loud and disruptive, causing his eyes to widen. He should have known better. She was pissed at him, and he was asking her to say the three words she hadn't said in almost a year.
He crossed the room slowly, laying a hand on her shoulder, and tried to speak to her using just his eyes. Her glare had softened considerably. "Tell me you love me," he repeated.
She sighed, frowning at his abruptness. When he smiled slightly she seemed to become even more confused. "What's wrong with you?"
"Nothing," he said, frowning and reaching down to stroke her cheek. Leaning in to brush his lips against hers, he sighed against her mouth and rested his hand on the small of her back.
"What the hell are you doing?"
Her bewildered voice cut through the tranquility of the room. Warrick winced. "I'm sorry?" More a question than an apology, his words seemed to hang on her raised eyebrow, waiting to be accepted by her facial expression.
"You know, I really don't understand you," she began, but he cut her off with a forceful kiss, making the words into a mumble. She resisted at first, but gave in when he pushed his body against hers, pinning her to the wall behind her.
He needed this. Needed to be reminded why he had come home today in the first place. Catherine's shirt reminded him of Vanessa's. Her breath was soft and warm like Vanessa's. He needed to be able to feel Catherine's hand pressed against his neck without thinking of Vanessa. He needed to know if there was any shred of dignity left for him to hold onto.
When someone first falls in love, their minds are completely intoxicated with that person. Obsession takes them over. They eat, drink, dream that person. Exhilaration fills their lungs, they become a new person with a new life to live. Every day is filled with a beautiful sense of wonder that fills them heart and soul.
Time goes on. Years pass. That love soon becomes stale. The very thing they found so fascinating in the first place - that is how loving them was like breathing- is the thing that has become their undoing. Love is no longer an exciting new emotion. It's an everyday activity that is like routine, like going through actions. They become less like lovers and more like robots.
Warrick needed to get back that obsession. He needed something to reinforce the love he knew was buried somewhere amidst the clutter this house held. He was being pulled away from his family by some kind of undertow, and he prayed to God that tonight would be his lifeboat.
She responded with such force to his advances, such passion, that he knew it had been way too long since he had acted this way towards her. Mumbling her name into the skin of her neck, he felt with his hands as the hairs on her back stood on end from his touch. The thought that he could cause this reaction made him kiss her even deeper until she was begging him for more.
To her, he was the only thing she had left, her last chance at a life of love, her last hope for a partner to spend the rest of that life with.
To him, she was his last chance. The only thing standing in the way of diving wholly and completely into the deep end. The only reason he hadn't already given up.
Vanessa, his ex-wife. His first love. The woman who he still desired, still wanted. Catherine, the woman who he had pledged his life to. The woman who had said she would have bared his children had it not been too late. The woman he had spent the last three years of his life giving himself over to.
Running his hands up and down her back, he could feel every fibre of his being become electrified. This is where he belonged. This is where he needed to be. With her. Looking down into her eyes he saw every reason he had fallen in love with her and then, every reason he hadn't given into Vanessa.
Later, she sighed, letting him curl up beside her and kiss her shoulder. His eyelids were heavy, and he began to drift into a sleep that seemed like the perfect ending to a wonderful night. The scent of her calmed his breathing, and soon he was barely awake.
"Warrick?" He didn't answer, too loaded down with the sweetest exhaustion to say anything. She sighed, obviously thinking he had fallen asleep. Then, through the fuzziness of his sleepy mind he heard, "I love you."