The doorbell rang, echoing off the hallway walls and creeping through the thin crack separating the floor from her shut door. She groaned, turning over to blindly search for the sleep button on her silent alarm clock. Her fingers spread out across the bedside table, knocking over her reading glasses.
The bell rang again, and her eyes opened blearily, taking a moment to focus on the pillow clutched tightly in her left hand, still damp from the night before. Unclenching her hands from embarrassment, she gradually became aware that what she thought had been her alarm clock was really the doorbell. Sitting up in one clumsy movement, she fumbled for the boxers resting a couple of feet from the bed and glanced back at the clock.
2:43 pm.
Brushing her tangled hair back with one hand, she tripped down the stairs, landing on the first floor haphazardly and wrenching the door open. She was yawning, one hand pressed up to hide her wide open mouth, her head tipped back, her posture slumped. She was yawning, so she didn't see who was on the other side of the door well enough over the tip of her nose to slam the door back shut. The split second it took for her to question, realize, and react was enough for him to push his way past her, spinning around to face her with his hand already running nervously through his already perfectly-mussed hair.
"I've given you twelve hours," he said, "and that's pretty much all I'm willing to give."
"I don't want to hear it," she said, narrowing her eyes and heading for the kitchen. He followed her, leaning against the entrance while she disappeared into the refrigerator.
"We're separated."
"As in still married?"
He sighed, "As in still married."
She'd sworn to herself that she'd never be the lovesick girlfriend again, but it looked like that promise was pretty much irrelevant now.
"And the girl?"
"Adopted. Nine years ago."
A faint spark of memory; an adopted nine year old girl…
Evelyn would be nine by now…
"I don't want to hear it," she murmured to the orange juice, barely above a whisper, closing her eyes painfully and letting the memory blur.
"Of course you want to hear it."
"No, what I want to do is sit here moping with my orange juice and vodka. You can let yourself out," she snapped, pouring an inch of orange into her empty glass.
"What happened to Tequila?"
Her eyes narrowed again and her mouth clenched into a firm, unwavering line.
"It's gone. Like you will be soon."
"Will you at least just think about giving in to my charms again?"
"Once was enough."
"Right."
He watched while she reached for a half-empty bottle at the top of the refrigerator, not bothering to look away when her tank top lifted with her arm, revealing an inch or two of bare skin.
"The conversation's over," she said, eyebrows raised expectedly as her toes sank back to the floor.
"You haven't agreed to give me a second chance yet."
"Exactly."
"Look, I didn't know they were coming. I asked Addison weeks ago to send Hannah alone, but-"
"So you were never going to tell me."
"I was, just not…"
"Anytime in the near future?" she finished, "Derek, what did you think I was going to say when you showed up with a kid on my doorstep?"
He shrugged, looking sheepish.
"Nice to meet you?" he guessed.
She filled the rest of the glass up with clear, burning alcohol and settled back into one of their bar stools, enveloping her drink protectively while she sipped.
"No. I would say 'what the hell?' and slam the door in your face."
"Good. I'd deserve it."
Her mouth twitched, her lips almost, almost cracking into a smile while she tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear, bending further over the island in the middle of the kitchen, her elbows propped up on either side of her.
"A family, Derek? Seriously? I don't know if I can do the whole parenting thing."
Another stab of memory.
"She's nine and mature for her age. It'll be like talking to a young adult."
"And a wife? I know I don't do threesomes."
"Duly noted."
"So…"
"So…"
"So I need to think about this. Figure out if this is what I want."
"It is," he assured before she shot him a silencing look.
"We'll see. But for now you should spend time with…Hannah?"
"Hannah."
"Right. Spend time with her and we'll talk in a couple of days."
"Mer-"
"Come back in a couple of days," she insisted in a lower, softer voice.
Because of her expression, because of the way she was looking at him like everything was okay, he left, backing out of the kitchen quietly as if he'd never been there in the first place.
AN: I'll be blunt.
I don't like this chapter. The beginning is way too rushed and there's a little too much dialogue. But, with a severe case of writers block, what can you do?
Let me know what you think.