A/N: Hi everyoneeee! I am so so sorry about the lack of update. It's been forever, right?! Life is to blame. :( Going forward, my goal is to post regularly again (but with my track record, you guys know how long that could last lol!). Anyway, wanted to say I truly loved reading your sweet reviews and hope you all enjoy the next couple of chapters. Apologies as this is a lengthy one! :)

An Unexpected Visit—Part I

Monday came in the blink of an eye, and with a vengeance.

Peter sat at the head of the oak table in his office, barely listening to two of his top ASAs recap the latest on their strategy to put one of the city's prominent drug leaders behind bars. As meeting four of the day, and many still to attend, his temperance and mood were borderline null.

A hammering pressure had spread from the tip of his brows and outward to his hairline, signaling a migraine was brewing.

"But Lockhart & Gardner will gun for that angle. Probably depending on it! We need to push immunity for the witness…"

His ears perked as he sat up straighter in the chair, watching them butt heads while likely waiting for his usual cue to confirm there was no conflict of interest.

How often did his office end up on the other side of this firm? Frankly, more than he liked. Both he and Alicia adapted to walking the tightrope in these instances, skilled in mollifying and curtailing apprehensions that their interests and performance were unbiased.

The fleeting thought of her stirred reminders he had been trying to ignore since their last conversation. "We kissed. Once." He exhaled a deep sigh as he rubbed his bottom lip, irritation behind his gaze hardening.

Days after she told him, the words haunted him. Whenever he built up the courage to swallow his ill feelings and let it go, the echo of her confession was louder and louder.

The slight pounding in his head intensified as he briefly closed his eyes to block the image he had of them—her and Will. Alicia vehemently assured him there was nothing between them. Or was there?

Shaking away the thought, Peter loosened his tie. The top buttons on his shirt were constricting.

"Uh, let's stop here for today," he blurted.

Seeing the assertive young brunette's mouth fall open, about to voice her opinion, he raised a hand. "It's okay, Alex. Share any loopholes in the evidence you find during our staff meeting in thirty. But don't get too hung up on this one. We have plenty of time."

"But you told us—"

His tone was harsh as he said, "I know what I said." It wasn't until he saw her reel back did he fully feel his stewing agitation. With a heavy sigh, he spoke softer. "We'll reconvene on this matter. There's something else I need to focus on right now."

He absentmindedly unbuttoned the sleeves of his shirt, rolling them up while Alex quickly gathered her folders and papers as she looked to her partner—Ben. Worry etched into her face.

Ben scooped up his own belongings and turned to Peter. "Sir, are you all right?"

Clearing his throat, Peter gave a slight nod as he rose from his seat and treaded over to his desk. "I'm fine. A little under the weather, and uh, just need to get something done before the meeting."

"Okay. Before we go, is there anything else—"

"Ben." Peter planted his palms on the edge of his desk, meeting his concerned gaze. "You've been here almost a year. You know how to do your job."

"Right. Understood," he said, slowly walking backwards towards the door. Alex was behind him, already widening the frame. "We'll see you in the meeting, with those updates."

Nodding, Peter watched them leave, grateful for the silence that descended upon the room once the door closed. He rifled through a top desk drawer for something to ease his headache. Locating a bottle of painkillers he kept for days like this, he popped a tablet in his mouth and uncapped a water bottle, quickly washing it down.

He trotted back towards the table and plopped into the seat. His tired eyes scanned surveillance photos and profiles of suspects scattered on the table.

Leaning forward, he picked up a photo, rolled his shoulders back and buried himself in work, if only for the next ten minutes. He needed the distraction. To collect his thoughts and buy time for the medicine to absorb while trying to forget her confession.

Nearly two days had passed since he left her apartment.

They had not spoken, which was mostly his fault. Was he mad? No. Was he still hurt? Possibly.

A cycle of emotions he didn't expect swirled inside of him. Though he understood the reason behind her confession, and accepted it to a degree, but his dormant jealousy would not stay by the wayside. Would not allow him to process and move on.

Maybe this was his fault. He pushed her to that point.

To cross a threshold he vowed never to step foot on as long as he lived. And look how that turned out. While he admitted to his past actions, perhaps he had not quite accepted them like Dr. Lewis advised: "Admitting and accepting are two different things."

The accepting piece he was still working towards. Hell, he'd probably always be working towards it. But for Alicia and their marriage, he needed to work harder.

Almost fifteen minutes had passed as he roamed through their problem and potential outcomes, when repetitive taps on the door broke his train of thought.

"Come in!" he called without looking up. He grabbed a profile pic for closer inspection.

"Should I come back another time?"

His pursed lips and knitted brows relaxed upon seeing Alicia's head craned around the door. A smile spread on her face.

"No, now is good." Setting his pen down on the table, he slumped against the wingback chair and waved her over. "Come on in."

He watched with keen eyes as she closed the door and walked towards him.

She wore a knee-length camel colored trench coat. Her hair tumbled over her shoulders in soft waves, framing her face in an angelic way. Nearly making him forget their tiff the other day. She would always be the one person who could lift him up or tear him down in the brief span of five seconds, and frustrated beyond belief for days on end.

A level of power even he wondered if she knew she held.

Stretching out his arm along the table, he leaned back against the cushion and gazed up at her now standing behind a chair diagonal from his seated position. Seconds ticked by as they continued to stare at each other, neither uttering a word. Their stubbornness fueled the awkward silence.

He'd intended to reach out to her this morning.

In between meetings and urgent matters needing his attention, she was at the forefront of his mind. Whenever he got a spare minute to pick up the phone and call, he would remember her whispered words: We kissed. Once. Then a never-ending loop of scenarios on exactly how it happened would play in his head, inclining him to set the phone down.

"I just came from court and was in the vicinity," she said, setting her purse on the table. She shed her coat and draped it over the back of the chair. "I have about an hour to kill before a meeting, so I thought we could … talk."

His brows rose as he crossed his arms over his chest, bracing to hear what she had to say when the reflection of a sparkle caught his eye.

He honed in on the delicate, white gold Cartier necklace decorating the slight v-neck of her sheath black dress. Recognition of the understated jewelry was immediate as the strain plastered across his face waned.

He'd gifted it to her on their first anniversary.

A gift he was proud to give to the woman who made him happier than he ever imagined. Their first year of marriage was understatedly hard. After he settled into a position at a top firm, the necklace seemed the perfect gift to symbolize his gratitude and calm her unspoken worries that everything would be okay.

Even though he'd given her other pieces of jewelry throughout the years, this was her favorite.

She often wore it daily, but he had not seen it around her neck since that day in their kitchen, when he shattered their glass ceiling of a somewhat ideal marriage.

Alicia caught his gaze and briefly glanced down before meeting his eyes again.

The slight tilt of his head coupled with the softening squint of his eyes told her he remembered. Her choice of jewelry this morning was intentional. For her, it was a symbolic reminder of a time mostly sunny and simple. A time when issues weren't so complex and that when they had a fight, they wouldn't go more than a day upset with one another.

Making up was an unspoken requirement back then.

Newly married, combined with caring for a baby, overruled petty feelings and temptations to dish out the silent treatment. Parenting required them to be a team—at all times. A learned give-and-take and fluid communication was the invisible glue that kept their foundation intact.

That's what she remembered and clung to as she licked her lips and decided to be the one to kick start the inevitable discussion.

"I called you the other night," she said, her voice soft. She ran nimble fingers along the white gold chain and paved diamonds, remembering. "You didn't call back."

Ring after ring went unanswered until his voicemail prompted her to leave a message. Peter … I, just … call me. She resisted leaving a drawn out message, regretting having called in the first place once she hung up.

"Yeah." He shifted in his seat. "I'm sorry about that. I was tied up."

Her hand dropped from her neck, and eyes narrowed. "Are you? Sorry?"

He cocked his head to the side. "You don't believe me?"

"Considering how upset you were when you left the apartment … "

"I'm not upset."

"Anymore, you mean?"

"Alicia," he said, his tone a mixture of exhaustion and edginess, "I'm not upset."

Her forehead wrinkled as she continued to read his nonchalant demeanor, watching as he smoothed a frustrated hand down his jaw.

Soon as she entered the room and caught an eyeful of him, she knew he wasn't in the best of moods. But his lukewarm response just now erased any remorse of sympathy and understanding. The itch to flick his wound dangled dangerously on the tip of her tongue.

"You didn't walk the kids up when you dropped them off last night," she said instead of falling back on her usual cannon ball of accusations.

He smirked. "Alicia, I don't always walk up with them. You came here to punish me because of that or because I didn't call you back?"

"Peter—" She stopped and exhaled a slow, calming breath, hating how he could be both snarky and resigned, and more so that it got under her skin. "I came to say that…"

Words rested heavily on her tongue. No amount of therapy made the next infamous eight letters easy to say.

"I am sorry." She stared him in the eyes. "That, from what I said, hurt you."

"I'm not hurt now."

She clenched her fists and sighed. "In sharing what I did, my only intent was to be honest. Nothing like that ever happened again between Will and me."

He tilted his head up, studying her face. Like he was looking for signs of deceit. "Are you sure?"

"You think I'm lying?"

"I don't know. You're so good at hiding lies."

Her mouth thinned in a tight line. "Well, you'd know about that too, right?"

He passed a tired hand over his face, dropping his arm back onto the table. "Alicia, I don't want to fight with you." He looked up at her. "Truth is, I'm not mad. Or hurt. I guess … I'm disappointed you didn't tell me sooner."

"Really?" Scratching her temple, she pressed her lips together and shook her head, suppressing a retort. "Considering where we were months ago, I don't think you would have received it any different had I told you sooner."

He nodded. "That's probably true. But there is one thing I can't shake."

She straightened her back and crossed her arms, readying herself for whatever synopsis his emotions concocted.

Resting his head against the top of the chair, he drummed his fingers on the table. "I can't stop wondering … why."

She gulped, thinking of how she pondered that question weeks after it happened. Those three letters held so much weight that just hearing them cemented her to the floor.

"You don't want to know why," she responded.

An uneasy breath floated past her lips as she watched his chest rise and fall in a heavy thud, followed by him pinching the skin between his brows. She wondered what he was he was thinking.

Probably dissecting the why and exactly what he didn't want to know. When he looked up at her, she saw the turmoil there. Guilt. And for a fraction of a second, it made her feel good. That he finally felt a smidgen of the pain he caused her.

It wasn't an even score. Telling him wasn't to even their playing field in that department. She committed for better or worse. And for them to be better in the present and future, her subconscious needed to be free.

She tentatively inched around the chair.

"He's my boss. We work together. That's it. Whatever we had in the past, is in the past." She inhaled a deep breath. "I married you, Peter."

He dropped his head and sighed.

She moved to stand in front of him, pushing back papers teetering on the edge. A small smile formed on his lips when she slightly turned and eased down onto his lap. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders as he encased her waist, resting his forehead against hers.

"I am glad you told me," he whispered, pulling her tight to his chest. "I'm sorry, too."

Cupping his cheeks, she breathed into their closeness. A sense of peace rolled through her body. "Seems like we're going to have a lot to discuss with Dr. Lewis on Wednesday. We may need the entire day."

He grinned. "Probably."

"Are we ever going to get this right?"

Chuckling, he smoothed a hand down her stocking clad thigh.

"One day." Leaning back, he peered into her hooded eyes. "I love you."

Smiling, she pressed her lips on his. Her arms wove around his neck as she tilted her head to the side, deepening their kiss.

The upbeat sound of her cellphone ringing broke their moment.

"Mmm, wait a minute." She reluctantly tore her mouth from his. "I need to get that."

"Make it quick," he said with a wink.

She bit a side of her lip as she grinned into the receiver. "Hi, Owen ... Oh, that's great! … Yeah, tonight is good … Um, I'm not sure about this surprise ... Okay, I'll pick up something and tell him … See you later." She pulled the phone from her ear, brows knitted.

"What's going on with Owen?" Peter asked.

"He found an apartment, and he's moving in today. He also wants to have a dinner tonight at my apartment. Says he's bringing a special guest for me," she said dubiously. "He invited you as well."

Peter smirked.

"Will you join us?" she asked, depositing the phone in her purse.

"I told my mother I'd have dinner with her this evening."

She moved behind his chair to bend at her waist. She angled her torso down while gliding her hands along the plane of his chest. Her lips touched his neck before floating up to graze the edge of his ear.

"Stop by before you meet Jackie," she whispered. "Then come back later and keep me warm tonight."

Grabbing her hands, he tilted his head to the side, seeking her face, mouth opening to respond when there was a knock at the door.

"Yeah?" Peter answered.

The door opened to reveal a blond apprentice cradling a pile of manila folders in the crook of her arm.

"Mr. Florrick—Oh! So sorry to interrupt. I didn't know you had a guest."

"Ava, it's all right. And this 'guest' is my wife, Alicia."

Ava switched the folders to her other arm. Her cheeks flushed pink. "Hi, Mrs. Florrick. I'm sorry, I didn't ... know. It's my second week here—"

"It's fine," Alicia responded. "Pleasure to meet you."

Ava nodded.

"What's going on?" said Peter.

Alicia straightened her posture behind him as she eyed the young woman. A perfect smile and pretty face matched her seemingly eased nature. She tried to recall if Peter mentioned hiring her.

"Everyone is in the conference room, ready for the staff meeting. We're waiting for you down the hall."

He looked up at Alicia and sighed. "I'll be right there."

Nodding, Ava closed the door.

"I don't think I've seen her before," said Alicia, walking around the table to grab her purse and coat. Peter slowly rose from the chair, readjusting his shirt and tie before reaching for his lain suit jacket on the other side of the table.

"A former colleague of Geneva's. We needed the help and she recommended her."

"Ah." She buttoned her coat and shouldered her purse.

"Hey." He grabbed her hand. "You have nothing to worry about here." He pointed towards the closed door.

She smiled up at him, straightening his crooked tie.

"I'm not worried. But I need to get going before we're both late." She tucked his tie beneath his suit jacket and turned away from him, strutting towards the door. "I'll see you tonight."

He followed her out of the room.

# # #

"Table is all set," said Grace as she walked into the kitchen and plopped into a barstool at the island.

"Did Zach help?" Alicia asked, intentionally loud.

"Yes!" Zach called from the other side of the apartment. "I'm going to study for a test!" The sound of his door closing abruptly ended their exchange.

"Is he just saying that?" said Alicia, setting a marinated rack of lamb onto a roasting rack.

Grace grinned. "No, he has a chemistry test tomorrow. So what time will Uncle Owen get here?"

Alicia lifted the lid from a pot of boiling chicken stock, standing back slightly as a rush of steam escaped. "He should be … here soon." She carefully spooned angle cut carrots from the cutting board into the liquid along with sugar and butter.

"We put an extra setting for Dad," said Grace. "Is he coming?"

Lowering the burner temperature, Alicia briefly glanced her way. "Maybe."

Although she hinted she wanted him here tonight, there was no telling which way the pendulum would swing.

"So you and Dad are like, back together now?"

"We're working on it," said Alicia distractedly, grabbing the pot lid.

"Is that why you didn't stay the other morning? Because you're still working on it?"

Alicia's hand froze mid-air. Seeing Grace observing her, she quickly placed the top back on, hoping she exhibited a smooth recovery.

"What are you talking about?"

"Mommmm." She laughed lightly. "I heard you leave Dad's apartment the other morning."

Alicia dared not turn around. Confirmation of her not so stealth actions was likely revealed by the warmth she felt rush to her cheeks. "W-what did Dad tell you?"

"I didn't ask him. We had to rush because we were going to be late for school."

"Oh." Wiping her hands on a dishtowel, she spun around from the stove, desperate to change this topic of conversation and not question the depth of her observation. "Hey, you never told me how the party went."

Grace clasped her hands together and blew out a breath. "It was cool. I can't wait until I can drive, though. It was so embarrassing when Dad picked us up! He was the only parent that actually came to the door!"

Alicia smirked. "What about Scott? Was he there?"

"Yeah, he was."

Alicia leaned forward, bracing her hands on the edges of the island. "And?"

"And what?" Grace shrugged. "We had fun at the party."

"So … no"—Alicia rotated her index finger around in a circle—"grown up behavior?"

"What?! Mom, no! What do you think we do at a party?"

"I don't know," she said flatly. "Your brother drinks and smokes at parties he goes to."

Grace tucked her hair behind her ears. "We just danced and talked. That's it."

"Good. I'm glad to hear that." Alicia released a breath. "But you know, if you ever want to talk about … girl stuff, I'm here. Always."

"Actually, I want to talk," she said, careful to avoid eye contact by toying with a charm on her bracelet.

Alicia felt the hairs rise on the back of her head. She didn't see that response coming.

"You do?"

Grace nodded.

"Now?"

Grace bit her lower lip. "Well, yeah. You said before I could ask you when I was ready ..."

Alicia's mouth slowly fell open.

"I think … I'm ready. To talk. I mean, I've learned a lot in school but …"

"Oh. Well …" Alicia stepped back from the island. "Whoo ..."

"Oh, gosh, you're going to make this weird! Forget I said anything." Grace rose from the barstool. Alicia caught her hand, pulling her back.

"I will not make this weird." Grace slowly sat back down in the chair and faced her. "I, was, a little surprised." She walked around the island to take the seat beside her. "What is it you want to know that school hasn't told you?"

"Um … well, how do I know if I'm ready?"

"Ready for ...?"

"Mom." Grace's eyes rounded. "You know."

"I ... assumed," Alicia mumbled. "I wanted to make sure this is about ... sex."

Grace sighed as she looked down at the countertop. "I'm not ready, ready for that. I'm just … I don't know."

"But you feel you might be ready?" Alicia asked weakly. Grace shrugged. "Is this about Scott?"

"No. I mean, we talk and stuff."

"About … that?"

"Mommmm, we just talk."

Alicia slowly nodded, attempting to fill in the blanks. "Is he-he … your boyfriend now, then?"

"No!"

She licked her lips. "Grace, I remember you mentioning Scott is a senior, but sweetheart, I hope he's not pressuring you into doing something—"

"Mom, it's not like that! I want to know. For myself." She sighed. "I heard some girls talking about it in the bathroom."

Alicia felt the temperature in the room suddenly rise.

Staring into the innocent eyes of her daughter, all she could think about was when Grace was in diapers. When babbling was her only form of communication. And of the horrid day she practically had to force feed her pureed peas, which ultimately ended up on both of them and half the kitchen.

Grace on the cusp of becoming a young woman and possibly being the center of attention for some young man she has not met was an unwelcome reality.

"Well, I can tell you that—"

The doorbell echoed throughout the apartment, halting the words of wisdom she was undoubtedly about to pull out of thin air.

"Must be Owen," Alicia murmured. She glanced towards the door, then back to Grace. Grateful for the timely interruption. A minute or two to prep for this conversation was needed. "We'll finish talking about this once they leave, okay?"

"Okay."

"Can you get the door while I finish dinner?"

"Yeah."

They rose from the stools. Before Grace went to open the door, Alicia pulled her into a quick hug. "You're still being a good girl, right?" she whispered in her ear.

Grace groaned. "Yes, I'm still being a good girl," she whined before pulling away.

Alicia watched her trek towards the door, transfixed on her lightly curled chocolate locks bouncing with every step she took. How she wished she could hold her in her arms and shelter her innocence forever.

As she turned back to the stove to place the store-bought lamb in the oven, an unmistakable shrill voice floated into the kitchen, causing her to freeze.

Alicia physically felt the color drain from her face and muscles constrict as she turned towards the front entrance. Her eyes filled with the sight of her brother shooting an apologetic glance while the woman embraced Grace in a tight hug.

"Mom ..."