A/N: A little shy of the last update, but here we are! Please don't start a petition. LOL. I'm a work in progress! But honestly, it's never intentional to keep you all waiting so long for the next chapter. I hope this update makes up for the wait a teeny tiny bit. To those still reading, thank you so so much for being patient. You all are the ABSOLUTE BEST!

Also, sincere apologies for the length of this chap.

Enjoy! :)

An Unexpected Visit — Part III

"They're really great kids!" Veronica boasted.

Leaned against the counter by the stove, Alicia lowered the phone from her ear as she watched her mother enter the kitchen, carrying empty dessert plates.

A jovial smile was painted on Veronica's lips, which resonated to Alicia as alarm. Whenever she saw the familiar expression, it made her cringe, especially when it was projected in her direction. It reminded her of a Jester's smile, which meant there was an aloof reason behind it.

"Grace is so much like you at that age. So curious and opinionated. Blossoming into a woman …" Veronica set the plates on the island countertop by the other stack of dishes to be washed. "Although I think you shelter them a little too much."

"Mom." Alicia paused typing a reply to an email to look up at her, annoyance plastered across her face. "Let me finish this email and then you can critique me as a parent."

"I'm not critiquing! It's a simple observation, Alicia. But if you asked me, you should raise them how I raised you and your brother."

With a curt roll of her eyes, Alicia deterred her focus back to the brightly lit cell phone screen.

A call from work pulled her from their ongoing family game of charades in the living room, to which she was more than grateful at the untimely interruption. It was Veronica's idea for them to play after dinner. "Family time. We need more of that," she had coaxed.

Alicia was the least amused.

She watched from the sidelines while her mother spearheaded the activities. Each time Veronica's falsetto laughter filled the air and she was called on to participate, did minuscule hairs on Alicia's arms rise and anxiety catapult. She couldn't excuse herself to the kitchen fast enough after the first shrill ring from her phone.

Alicia scanned the quickly composed email for errors, and then sent it. Depositing the phone face down on the surface, she reluctantly met Veronica's disapproving gaze with a stance to match. She was leaned against the edge of the island, fisted hands planted on her hips.

"You know, you work too much."

"How do I work too much, Mom?" she said, her tone flat. "By taking one call?"

"Yes! You need to be in the present more."

Alicia ignored her hollow assessment and grabbed the plates along with two glasses waiting to be cleansed and preceded to load them in the dishwasher.

She could feel the daggers Veronica bore into her back when she said, "What's the matter, Alicia?"

Closing the dishwasher door, she pressed the square button to start the wash cycle then turned to wipe her hands on a dishtowel. She begrudgingly looked her way.

That unwavering stare screamed back at her, or as Owen affectionately called it, 'the death stare'. It was cast upon her and she couldn't dodge it, feeling as if it was drilling right into her very soul. It unnerved her, and she hated it. More so hated this. Just the two of them in a room, the echoes of their family in the living room drowning in the tornado of thoughts and feelings she couldn't articulate.

It never ceased to amaze her, that in her adult age, her mother's mere presence still made her feel like the little girl that used to linger in the shadows, yearning for her attention.

For her unconditional love.

So what was the matter? You, she wanted to scream.

Instead, she shook her head and replied, "Nothing."

"You're sulking." Veronica slowly folded her arms across her chest. "Just like you did when you were little. When something bothered you, you'd run off and busy yourself."

Alicia breathed a long, tired sigh. "I'm not sulking, Mom. I came in here to take a work call and" —her eyes swept across the partially spotless countertops— "to finish clearing the dishes."

Veronica began to wave her finger as she sashayed around the island towards a barstool. "Your father always told me it was best to give you your space and let you brood. Maybe that was the problem." She eased onto a cushioned seat. "You're still so much like him."

Alicia dropped her head and groaned, not wanting to go down that road. Especially with her.

"Mom, I'm fine." She picked up a dishcloth. "I'm going to finish in here and then I'll be back in to join the game."

She swiveled around towards the stove without another word, offering her back again, signaling she was done engaging in their conversation.

"Since you won't admit it," Veronica calmly said, "I know you're upset with me." Alicia's hands paused mid-wipe. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry for earlier. Prying into your marriage, I mean." Alicia folded the dishcloth and slowly turned back around, not believing what she just heard. "I guess I owe some of that to Jared. He's teaching me to be better at admitting when I'm wrong."

"Thank you … I think." It was too early to tell if her apology was genuine. The tides could turn at any second.

"I just want you to be happy ..."

A sentimental moment between them was few and far between, and the longer they held their gaze, both felt the awkward weight of the moment.

Breaking contact, Veronica eyed the dormant bottle of tequila nesting on the now pristine counter. She leaned across and reached for it.

"But you know what your problem is?" Alicia chuckled, knowing it was too good to be true. "You never let yourself have what you want. You place too many conditions and parameters around your happiness. You're so self-protective of your inner desires. You need to loosen up! Set those inhibitions free."

Alicia frowned. "Mom, my, 'inner desires' are fine." She watched with nervous eyes as Veronica began to uncork the bottle.

"Get us some glasses."

"... Really?"

Her unease rose another notch the second the cork was pulled from the opening, reverberating in a soft pop; she itched to snatch it from her grasp. Them sharing alcohol right now would be like pouring gas on a fire.

"Yes. We need some of this before we go back in there to kick their asses," Veronica said, tilting her head back in the direction of the living room.

Them, drinking together, never ended well, and Alicia didn't entirely trust herself when they were left alone to enjoy spirits.

Words tended to flow with ease, unwarranted backhanded advice was given (from Veronica), and unresolved feelings surfaced from the past; just to name a few of the unruly outcomes bound to happen once their blood streams were buzzing.

As she studied Veronica inhale a whiff of the barrel aged tequila, she couldn't deny the proposition was tempting.

A few hours ago during dinner, she refused herself wine, reasoning she needed to be lucid and sharp for Veronica kept hurling questions at Peter when she wasn't sharing colorful tales of her many travels and escapades.

In a matter of seven seconds, Alicia finished weighing the odds and shrugged, figuring what the hell. What harm was there in a shot, or two? Retrieving two cleansed shot glasses from a corner shelf, she set them in front of their seats then situated herself in the adjacent barstool.

"Before I forget, I have a request." Alicia wrapped her cashmere cardigan tighter around her torso and braced herself. "Do you mind if I stay here a few days?"

Her eyes widened. "S-s-stay?"

"Yes, silly. Stay," Veronica said, nudging her shoulder. "Obviously I'll need to stay tonight once we finish this bottle. But you have room now since Peter has his own place. I'm having a few of the upper and lower level rooms in my house remodeled. It's scheduled to be finished in two days.

"It was supposed to be done by the time I got back from my trip, but you know how those things go," she said dismissively. "So, I thought I could stay here until that's all done. That'll allow me to spend more time with you and the kids!" The Jester's smile repossessed her lips, accompanied by a wink this time.

Alicia blinked, desperately trying to think of a tactful response. "Mom, what about …"

Mentioning one of Veronica's rental properties came to mind. But does she still have them? Probably not since she downsized incredibly a few years ago when she adopted this grandeur nomad life with a man of considerable wealth always in tow. Wait … why can't she stay with her latest beau? Does he even live in Chicago? There were so many gaps and details she didn't know about her unstable life. And frankly, she wasn't sure if she wanted to know.

Veronica held the glassed bottle, poised mid-air at an angle, ready to pour.

"What about what?" she asked, flabbergasted at her hesitation. "Do you not want me to stay?"

"Mom, it's not that." She tucked her hair behind her ears and swallowed hard, regretting the words she was about to say. "Sure. It's fine. You can stay. I'll tidy up the spare room for you. I'm sure Zach and Grace will love having you here."

"And you?"

She released a slow, uneasy breath. "We can catch up," she said, smiling through gritted teeth. "You can tell me all about your travels with Jared."

Veronica filled the glasses without missing a beat. "Jared …" A warm smile spread across her lips. "Speaking of, you know, I never told you. There was another, very special man before your father. Richard. Jared reminds me so much of him."

Alicia eyed her as she pushed a glass in front of her, wondering where this topic would lead them and more so, what ignited it.

"Okay …"

"Richard was wild. A daredevil. I wanted him from the moment I saw him. I was dancing on a tabletop in a bar with a girlfriend when our eyes locked. It was … like a force of nature." She lifted the glass to her lips. "He was the opposite of your father in every way. Your father was … structured … grounded. A calm to my storm. I thought I needed that. At least, my mother thought I did. Someone to catch me when I fall instead of someone that I could free-fall with ..."

Alicia sat up straighter at the casual mention of her grandmother as she tilted her head and studied Veronica's oblivious profile.

Stunned was an understatement.

Wanting to ask if she was drunk teetered on the tip of her tongue. It was highly possible after the glasses of wine she consumed over dinner, thus her candor right now.

Veronica never opened up this way nor ever mentioned her grandparents in conversation. From what Alicia was told, a drunk driver struck them one night a few years before Alicia was born. There were no survivors. The only memory she had of Veronica ever speaking about them was when she overhead the start of an argument she and her father were having. Veronica shouting, "I should have never listened to my mother and married you!" was the spark to an hour-long disagreement about finances and confessing how she never married just for love.

"After your father and I divorced," she somberly continued, "I thought about Richard a lot. If I would have taken a left instead of a right."

Alicia reached for her own glass. "Why didn't you … take the left?"

"Richard didn't want anything serious, but your father did. He was raised that way. Poised to marry and settle down. He was different than any other man I had been with at the time. For a girl like me from Woodstock, he was a catch." She ran a fingertip around the brim of the glass, getting lost in nostalgia. "I probably wasn't going to do much better. After two months of dating, he was ready.

"I thought I was too then. God, I was so young," she said with a laugh. "Naive. Barely twenty-one. I thought he was the best catch. Handsome, came from a well-off family. Wore his heart on his sleeve."

Veronica's lips pursed; her bottom eyelids welled.

"Your father was a good man," she said. "Despite how things ended between us." Her eyes lit up. "Oh! And he was great in bed. Better than Richard. My G—"

"Okay, Mom!" Alicia held up her hand, shifting uneasily in her seat.

Veronica dabbed her eyes and raised her glass, enlisting Alicia to do the same.

"To your father, and Richard," she said cheerily. Their glasses clinked and they downed the tequila in one swig.

"That felt wrong," said Alicia, blowing out a breath, masking a face of discontent at the burning sensation swirling within her chest. "Half toasting to a man I've never met. Feels like a betrayal to Dad."

Veronica began to refill their glasses. "If things were different, your father could have actually been Richard."

"Well, I'm glad life happened as it did. I can't imagine another man being my father."

Veronica smiled, tapping her hand. "I like this. Us having a drink and talking without you scolding for a change."

Alicia leaned back in the chair, frowning. "I don't scold."

"You do. I always know you're going to go parental on me when I see a crease form between your brows." Veronica lifted a hand up to pinch the area. "Right here."

Alicia swat her hand away.

"So, Owen told me about this Will."

Alicia slowly looked at her, mouth agape. Her head robotically pivoted in the direction of the living room.

She whispered, "I'm going to kill him …"

Veronica pat her hand. "Nonsense. Come on. I've opened up to you, now it's your turn. Talk to me. Woman to woman," she said with that same smile and wink. "What really happened? Why didn't it work out?"

So this is it, she thought. That entire spiel was some sort of bargaining chip. Alcohol served as ammunition.

She was cajoled and derailed with talk about her father and Richard when her mother had a hidden agenda to get details on a man she had never met and likely, wanted more specifics on her marriage.

All a carefully dealt hand she played right into.

Anger began to bubble beneath the surface.

A voice in the back of Alicia's head said not to take the bait and feed this conversation. Call out the blatant manipulation. Had it been anyone else, she would have done so and walked off without a word.

Beyond a reasoning she was not going to second guess in this moment, she couldn't overlook the small urge to open up. How ironic it would be to the one woman who could make her feel smaller than small from a simple look. Even if it was circumstantial, she'd always hoped someday they could have a heart-to-heart, and now the opportunity presented itself.

Why not take it?

Besides, given how much Veronica drank this evening, she may forget and never utter a word of this pastime again.

Alicia glanced down to her refilled glass of tequila waiting to be consumed, its herbal and fruity notes permeating her senses. Her fingers coiled around the crystal as she weighed this decision a minute more.

Other than her brother, a lack of female friends to confide in left her conscience in a constant battle of weary and burdened.

And honestly, it would be a relief to share thoughts she couldn't with Peter.

She mulled over the past in great lengths after their fall out the other day. No matter how many times she tried to ignore the dangerous thoughts, she couldn't stop herself from wondering. If she had done the opposite of every decision she's made since she met him, what would her life look like now?

That if at some point during those initial fifteen years she had chose not to trust her husband so much she felt she never had to ask. If she had chose not to ignore her gut and question his cloned excuses back then. If she had refuted his proposal of couple's therapy. Hell, if she would have even said no to their first date, she wouldn't be sitting here contemplating, what if …

She checked each entrance to the room. From the sound of laughter coming from the living room, their family was still occupied and wouldn't intrude. An added bonus of the television volume surely drowned out their hushed conversation in the kitchen.

The coast was clear to spill it all.

"Alicia?" said Veronica, bringing her back to the present. "What happened with this Will?"

With a grave sigh, she whispered, "It wasn't meant to be."

"How do you know that?"

"Because," she said with an exasperated laugh, "I know. It was … just a college thing. Back then we were different. I was different."

"Was he too clean?" Veronica said, smirking. "You did like your bad boys."

"No. It wasn't that."

Alicia looked down at her wedding band, thinking of the fleeting moments fit for a romance novel she'd had with Will during the past two years.

Lost in her thoughts and their conversation, she didn't see nor hear Grace nearly round the corner before falling back, opting to stay hidden in the corner space between the family room and kitchen as she listened.

"I-I don't know. Our timing was never right. Even then. I met Peter and … that was it."

"And look how that's turned out."

Alicia rolled her eyes. "Mom, please. Really. I'm happy with Peter."

"But you're living a part. It's because of someone else isn't it?" Alicia dared not look at her, hoping any movements she made weren't mistaken as confirmation. "Is Will that someone else?"

Alicia cleared her throat. "Mom, what happened to not prying?"

"It's a valid question, Alicia! That's the entire point of this"—she pointed at their chests—"kumbaya we're having."

Alicia sighed and rolled her shoulders back. "No marriage is perfect. As you know very well. Peter and I have had our ups and downs, but we're good now."

"Until you're not anymore. Then you'll wonder about the path not taken. Now drink up," she said, quickly downing her shot. Alicia reluctantly did the same.

"It's not a sin to fantasize, Alicia," she continued, refilling their glasses. "You ever think about this Will? A different life you could have had?"

Alicia eyeballed her full glass, admiring the nanoscale swirls in the clear liquid. A pleasant vibration coursed through her body. Thoughts muddled. She had little control of the suppressed wants and doubts about to roll past her lips, to her mother of all people.

"When Peter was in prison, at times. Maybe." She shrugged. "But that's all it was and ever will be."

"Are you sure? It's not too late. You can change the course of your happiness anytime. I think now is your time."

"Mom, thoughts of Will does not mean I'm not happy."

"But would you be thinking of him if you were truly happy?"

Scoffing, Alicia downed her glass in a heartbeat. She closed her eyes and savored the burn, hoping it numbed the reminder of the near thesis she had conjured on that question herself.

This conversation needed to end. Now.

"Peter and I are good. We're ..." She licked her lips repeatedly. The room was growing increasingly warm. "We're working on us. And I'm happy. We're both happy in our marriage. Thoughts about Will were just that. Thoughts."

"How can you think about another man when you're with Dad?" said Grace, entering the room.

Their heads spun around, watching as Grace coolly strolled in to set dirty glasses on the counter.

"Grace! Honey, I didn't hear you," said Alicia, forcing her posture upright against the chair. Looking down at the emptied shot glass, she pushed it back in disgust.

Grace propped against the counter and floated her gaze between the bottle of tequila and the two of them. "I thought Will is your boss?"

Veronica brought her glass back to her lips and resolutely looked the other way. Alicia shook her head. Of course she wasn't going to chime in on the turn of events she piloted.

"He is," said Alicia, brushing stray hairs from her face as she attempted to focus.

"But said you think about him instead of Dad. You want to be with him?"

"No! I did not say that. And don't eavesdrop on adult conversations," Alicia said sternly.

Grace looked to her borderline sloshed grandmother and then back to her.

"It sounded like you were rethinking the future of our family," Grace stated matter-of-factly. "Or you wonder about one with … Will?"

Alicia carefully eased down from the chair. Gripping the edges of the island, she took a second to steady herself before nearing Grace. She enveloped her in an embrace and kissed her forehead.

"Okay. Go back into the other room. I'll be there in a minute. Grandma and I are going to finish in here and then we'll talk."

Grace mumbled, "I don't like it when you drink."

Alicia met her eyes, her own clouded gaze steadfast when she spoke. "We'll talk."

"Don't worry, sweetie," said Veronica, watching her leave. "Your mother is like an ox. She's not going anywhere."

Alicia's eyes shot back to her, regret seeped into every minute that's transpired since she walked into the room.

#

"I think I'm going to turn into an alcoholic before the week is over," said Alicia, switching off the lights in the dining room before treading into the neighboring living room where Peter was half reclined on the couch—his feet elevated on the coffee table—idly watching television.

He looked behind him and grinned up at her as she rounded the other end.

"It'll fly by," he said, lowering the volume of the eleven o'clock news airing on TV. "They may even finish the renovations a day ahead of schedule."

He stretched out an arm along the back of the chair, opening up his body, inviting her to lay against his side. Leaving one lamp on, she curled against him.

"I'm still surprised she requested to stay here and not a hotel," she said.

"I'm surprised you agreed."

"It's the tequila. Too much tequila." It definitely was. A slow burn headache had spread across her forehead and was starting to settle into an uncomfortable pressure behind her eyes.

Tucking her feet beneath her, she angled her head up to rest on his chest, peeking over her shoulder towards the kid's closed bedroom doors. They were surely asleep given the late hour. It dawned on her that she and Grace never resumed their 'talk'. Veronica's presence had dominated the rest of their evening.

"Did Owen leave already?" she said, suppressing a yawn.

"Yeah. About an hour ago while you were helping your mom get settled. Said he'll call you tomorrow." She nodded. "Tired?" he whispered.

"I am." She stared at the television, fighting another yawn. "She's so exhausting, Peter. I don't think I can survive her staying here."

He chuckled and pressed his lips against her temple. "Still need me to keep you warm tonight?"

So much had happened since she left his office earlier that she had forgotten about her tantalizing offer. Forgot, and no longer wanted it.

She apologetically peered up into his eyes. "Raincheck?"

The flash of rejection in his eyes was instant. She saw and felt it, but didn't want to voice the reasoning he probably sensed. Instead, he reached down to smooth a hand along her thigh before coming to rest on her knee, giving it a slight squeeze.

"I can stay if you need me. I don't mind sleeping on the couch."

His words softened her resolve. But, she wanted to be alone—needed to be alone.

A lot of noise floated around in her mind, noise she needed to clearly sort through.

"Thank you. But I'll be fine," she said with a smile.

When she saw the corners of his eyes crinkle and mouth begin to open—no doubt about to question her hesitation—she cupped his jaw and tugged his head down for a kiss.

She needed to quiet his fears and the brewing doubts that swam in her conscious after the kitchen moment. Layers upon layers of their new foundation now felt fragile.

At least to her.

Hence this kiss.

To not only silence him but her mind. And it was a simple kiss; at least that was her intent.

When she slightly moved to half cover him, she rethought her own choice. Maybe he should stay and crowd her thoughts of only him. Allow him to take her to a place that was free of worry and consequences, and just them.

Her fingers curled within his hair as she greedily widened her mouth, not caring if a soul saw them as he skated his palm down her lower back to rest on the swell of her hips.

"Are you sure about tonight?" he said, once they broke apart.

She lazily smiled and gave him a lasting peck. "I'm sure. That was meant to hold you over."

Leaning back, she glided a hand across his chest. He caught it mid-caress and held it within his own. Then straightened his slouched posture and cleared his throat.

The vibe strumming between them came to a hard stop. Her brows threaded at the change.

"Before I leave … uh … Grace asked me something when I was telling her goodnight." Her ears perked as she tipped her head back in the crook of his arm to fully look up at him. "She asked me about … Will."

It felt as if blood rushed from the top of her head to her ears; the beat of her heart quickened.

"And if we're okay?" he finished.

Alicia closed her eyes from both exhaustion and frustration, wracking her brain of how to best explain without them fighting.

"Mom and I were talking about the past and Grace overheard. You know Mom … she can go on and on about whatever at any given moment."

He nodded. "But about him in front of our daughter?"

"Grace was eavesdropping, Peter," she said in a hushed tone, unfolding her legs and sitting upright against the couch. He followed suit. "I didn't know she was nearby until she walked into the room."

He smoothed a hand down the back of his neck. "Is there anything else you need to tell me about you and him?"

She crossed her arms, recalling the conversation in the kitchen she regretted for the umpteenth time. If I would have taken a left instead of a right ...

Veronica decided on a path that promised stability, safety and a twenty-year constant when she married her father. And look where she landed. She was on an endless journey of exploring many, many paths not taken.

Alicia's own indecision crossed her mind. Specifically, each decision she has made within the past two years and how it revived that old feeling of what if.

She answered, "No. There's nothing else you need to know."

He leaned forward and dropped his elbows on his knees, linking his fingers. A subtle move that said his speculative gears had started to churn.

"No late night moments at work you probably forgot?"

"Peter, no. And there's nothing more to say about that. We put it to rest."

"Okay." He glanced at her over his shoulder, met her defiant gaze. "Okay," he said again, signaling he accepted defeat on the matter. "Veronica also reminded me of something I've wanted to discuss with you. Our living arrangement."

She blankly stared at him.

"When do you think that will change?" he asked.

"I-I don't know. I haven't thought about it."

His nostrils flared as he pressed his palms together and looked up at the fireplace mantel. She followed his gaze. He was staring at one of their family portraits.

From what she could make out in the dim lighting, he was studying a picture of them taken almost four summers ago. Smack in the middle. She didn't need a brighter light to see it, to know exactly their stance, what they wore, how they posed.

They stood in the middle of their former backyard in Highland Park on an unusually warm Saturday in July. A grill was perched behind them, lined with steaks cooking. Peter had his arms wrapped around her, whispering something in her ear—she couldn't remember what—which had caused her to burst into a fit of laughter.

That was the moment Zach captured.

Her head dipped back and a wide smile on her face with his arms snaked around her waist as he held her tight, and an equally large grin tailoring his mouth. A candid moment caught in time. Of them being them. In love … enjoying the life they worked so hard to build.

Now, she couldn't remember the last time they genuinely laughed together.

"I think we should live together as a family again," he said lowly, remorse heavy in his tone.

She stared at the back of his head, having a keen inkling on where this stemmed from. He likely sensed her inner turmoil and this was his way of affirming he knew.

"Peter, we just got back together. Let's take it slow."

"We're married, Alicia. How much slower are we supposed to go?"

She combed a hand through her hair. "Because we had"—her eyes darted to the closed bedroom doors—"sex," she said, her voice lowered, "that automatically means we should live together again?"

"No, but for the last three weeks I see no reason why we shouldn't."

She pressed her lips together and turned back to the television. His intense gaze was too much. "I think we need to talk to Dr. Lewis first."

He laughed and rose from the couch. "That's a first coming from you."

"Peter, taking it slow has been working for us. I don't want to do anything on impulse."

"I'm more than just a father to our children," he heatedly whispered with a look in his eyes to match. She flinched. "This isn't on impulse.

She spat, "It is!"

Shaking his head, he padded towards the foyer to grab his suit jacket draped over the chair by the end table. She followed.

"So how does this pan out, Alicia? We continue therapy for the rest of our lives and live separately?"

"No." She watched him tersely slip on his jacket, his actions mirroring his exit from the other day. "But you're only bringing this up because of Will."

He straightened the collar of his shirt and peered down at her, nothing short of vexed.

"Oh, Alicia, good. You're still up."

Alicia whirled around to see Veronica clad in a silk kimono, tightening the sash. Her anxiety triggered. How long had she been standing there and how much had she overheard?

"What's wrong, Mom?"

"I need help with the window in the room." Veronica looked past her. "Peter, are you leaving?"

He grinned. "I am. Good to see you, Veronica, and good night."

"Good night."

He glanced back to her. A telling look passed between them before he turned and opened the door.

Alicia stubbornly watched him, arms tightly folded. She wouldn't dare be the one to speak nor would she chase after him.

He widened the doorframe, and froze for a second, then turned back.

"We're fine," he whispered, answering one of the many questions swarming in her eyes. He lowered his head and kissed her cheek. "I'll talk to you soon," he said into her ear.

Alicia stopped herself from saying more given their audience. As she watched him walk towards the elevators, she closed the door, knowing they were anything but fine.