A/N: Okay, so there are only two chapters left for this story following this update, but I REALLY like what's here. I know this story has taken a while to get rolling, but the build up was important, because it showed us more about these characters, let us into their mindsets. Now that the groundwork has been laid, it's time to reap the rewards. I'm curious to see what your impressions and predictions are after this chapter. Enjoy!

Charlynn

Chapter Eight

The trip to Florida had been exactly what Marissa had needed. Like Ryan said, when she went on vacations, it was always to Columbus to see Caitlyn, and, while that was always enjoyable, it never left her time to just simply relax and unwind. Despite his initial idea that they would spend time together while she was there with him, Marissa had seen very little of Ryan.

She had arrived in Miami on Thursday evening. He had picked her up at the airport, and, before she could even check into her hotel room, they had gone to a baseball game. While Ryan worked, she had pretended to be interested in the game, but, no matter how hard she tried, she could not enjoy watching sports. So, instead, she pulled out the book she had been reading on the plane ride, put her feet up on the seat in front of her, and purchased a steady stream of hot dogs and cracker jacks. Because Ryan was so busy interviewing team personnel, he never noticed her lack of concentration, and she realized perhaps it wouldn't be too bad to go to more games with him….as long as she was properly prepared.

That night, after Ryan helped her check into her own hotel room, something she had insisted on, because sharing a hotel room just seemed too sordid, she snuck out of the resort and found herself walking the shoreline, lost in thought, and simply enjoying the feeling of warm sand between her toes, the sound of the waves crashing on the beach, and the vision of the moonlight over the water. The ocean, the beach, they were the only things she missed from Southern California. Although Seattle was on the coast, it just wasn't the same thing, and, at night when the murky surroundings dimmed the differences between the Atlantic and Pacific waters, she could almost imagine that she was, once again, a little girl wandering around her family's private beach in Newport. Perhaps it was that feeling of innocence and calm that made her realize she didn't just want to change her career; she wanted to re-envision her entire life.

Quickly, Marissa found that her days took on a pattern. By the time she would wake up in the morning, Ryan would already be working, so she had the day to herself. Following breakfast in bed, she would shower, get dressed, and immediately head to the beach. There, it was nothing but sun, relaxation, and quiet time to sit and ponder her life. Between dips in the ocean to cool off, she would read, listen to music, and even write down ideas for the business she wanted to open. She would even order a picnic from the hotel kitchen to take with her, so she wouldn't have to get up and lose her spot. When she got tired or when the warmth of the sun's raise was just too relaxing, she would doze off, leaving her conscious dreams behind for unconscious fantasies. Those, the unaware, sleep induced ideas were the ones that were the most telling, most revealing, and, by the time Sunday afternoon had arrived, she knew she could settle for anything less.

"Hey," Ryan greeted her as he jogged down to the beach and sat down on her blanket. He was done working, and, while they could, they were going to enjoy the rest of their time in Miami together. Although they both flew out later that evening, there were still several valuable hours of daylight left to frolic in the water and lounge on the beach.

"So, did you eat lunch yet," Marissa asked him, sitting up from her reclined position and crossing her legs to get comfortable, "because I had the hotel pack some extra food for you just in case."

"That sounds great," Ryan flashed her an appreciative smile, "but, I think I'm going to go for a quick swim first. Save me a spot," he referred to the quickly filling beach before dashing off towards the water, the light from the sun casting a glow on his tanned and toned body, a sight Marissa couldn't keep from smiling at no matter how much she needed to talk to him.

As his quick swim turned into a lengthy one, she slowly drifted off to sleep, the lull of the music streaming through her mind and the faraway twinkling sound of children's laughter a lullaby for her relaxed body, and, before she knew it, she was, yet again, having the same dream that had made her desires suddenly clear and distinct. It always started the exact same way: they would pull up to their home, the first real house Marissa had lived in since she was sixteen, not an apartment or a condo, but a house with a mailbox, a white picket fence, a garage, and a large back yard with ancient trees for climbing, tree houses, and hanging tire swings. It was a home to shelter children, a home to welcome grandchildren, a home to grow old in together. As they left the car, approaching the house, her husband would pick up her and carry her over the threshold, laughing at her giggles and peals of mirth the entire time they moved towards their bedroom. There, he would gently place on their bed, and, just as they were about to make love, she would see his face.

"Ryan," Marissa gasped out, startled. Sensing something while she had been asleep, her eyes had sprung open only to land on a hovering Ryan who was gazing intently at her face or, more precisely, her lips while she dreamt. "What are you doing," she asked, confused, but he refused to answer. Instead, he simply remained where he was, dripping salt tinged beads of water onto her vulnerable, scantily clad body. Nervous, she simply laid there unsure of what to do. Here was the moment she had been dreaming of for months, since the day he had first kissed her on the plane, but it didn't feel right; it wasn't the perfect first kiss as a couple that she wanted.

With her wide, naïve eyes, she followed his gaze as it trailed from her lips down her body, his vision taking in every nuance of her figure and being. Slowly, as he raised his sight back to her face, once again, he lowered his mouth to her chest, his lips open as he exhaled a rushed, excited breath onto her skin, his nose dancing across her neck as he took in her essence. By the time his shining, cobalt eyes locked with her own, her chest was heaving in anticipation, her body tingling as she waited for his touch. Neither of them looked away from the other, their connection unbreakable. Languidly, he rested his weight on one arm as he picked his left hand up to brush away the wind tossed hair that was disrupting his view of her gorgeous face, and she leaned into his touch, her eyes falling shut in ecstasy at the feeling of his damp, powerful fingers cradling her cheek.

Breaking her out of the spell she was under, he lowered his mouth to her ear, his voice nothing but a deep, seductive whisper. "Open your eyes. I want to see inside of you."

Wordlessly, she obeyed, turning her head to lock her own blue irises with his. As he lowered his face closer to hers, his hand wound its way down her body, leaving her face behind and trailing over her arm and side before it settled possessively on her hip, his fingers toying with the thin material of her bikini. Just as she thought he was going to finally kiss her, envelope her body in his and share the embrace they had both been craving so desperately, he stopped, his eyes smiling into hers as he licked his lips, their mouths so close his tongue brushed against her lips as he wetted his own. It was the most erotic, electrically charged, beautiful moment of her life, and, as she felt the cool metal of his golden wedding band make contact with the back of her thigh, she knew it could go no further.

"I can't do this," she cried out desperately, her tone quiet and filled with pain, breaking her gaze away from his. Closing her eyes as a desperate tear of sorrow and mistrust slipped effortlessly down her face, she waited for Ryan to move away from her body, to release his hold upon her heart and mind so she could escape into the quiet solitude of her hotel room, but he remained stagnant. She could feel his eyes upon her, willing her to look back up at him, but she refused for it would be too dangerous for her emotions and too easy for him to change her decision. After never ending moments of tension, she felt his body weight start to shift and let out a relieved sigh, but, before she could move away from him, he lowered his mouth to hers once again, placing a delicate, loving kiss on her cheek, barely grazing against the corners of her lips, just enough to tease and torment her feelings and conscience. He held the embrace for several seconds, perhaps waiting and wishing for her to reconsider, before finally pulling away and sitting up on the blanket they were sharing.

"I have to go." Leaving her things and a bewildered Ryan behind, Marissa ran away as quickly as she could, never once looking back at the man she loved, needing to be by herself, needing the solace and privacy of her hotel room, needing to still her pounding heart and quiet her raging mind. There were only a few hours before she would have to face him again, and before that could happen, Marissa needed to think long and hard about what was to come next in her life, where they could possibly go from the moment they had just shared on the beach.

The blinds were closed to block out the harsh, spring, late morning sunlight as Theresa Atwood, seated rigidly in her husband's office chair, sat blindly staring out in front of her as she saw the intricate, imperfect life she had built for herself come crashing down around her. Since she was a little girl growing up beside the Atwood family, she had dreamed of marrying their youngest, quiet, shy, handsome son, dreamed of turning a house into a home with him, dreamed of having children with the only man she had ever loved, dreamed of spending the rest of her life with him. Then, at the tender age of sixteen, they had stood up in the very same church she had taken her first communion and pledged their heart, soul, mind, and body to each other in front of God and her family. Though it had been flawed, in her memory it was still perfect, a pattern that would continue throughout her eleven year marriage.

She knew Ryan was unhappy, that there was something missing from his life that he needed to feel complete, but she was positive it was a baby, that as soon as he admitted that he wanted children and she could place their son or daughter in his arms, his eyes would finally fill with the same love she had always felt for him when he gazed upon her, and they would live happily ever after just like the fairytales her mother had read to her when she was a little girl.

Everything in her life was exactly as she had imagined it growing up….well almost. She had the man of her dreams, the house she had drawn pictures of or clipped out of magazines to hang on her private dream board in her room, the bakery her parents had always wanted to open in her possession, her shrine to their memory, and a comfortable lifestyle where she didn't have to worry about how she was going to pay the next month's mortgage or where she would find the money to buy groceries that week. A second generation, successful American, she had friends, the respect of her neighbors and colleagues, and the admiration of the people she had left behind in the old neighborhood years ago. There were just two things missing in her life, and they went hand in hand: a husband who returned her love and a child whom she could spoil and cherish, but now, after what she had found, those fantasies were destroyed, belittled, and tainted just as her life was.

Receipts, piles upon piles of tiny pieces of paper detailing the many purchases her husband had made for his mysterious, Seattle companion littered his desk, receipts for luggage, pajamas, plane tickets, credit card statements telling of fancy dinners, home cooked meals, and movie marathons from Seattle establishments paving a monthly story of infidelity for her swollen, tear filled eyes to read. It was as if he was living a whole other separate existence, an existence up until a few weeks before she had no knowledge of. The computer screen glowed brightly in the otherwise dim room, a history of correspondences, personal, private letters of friendship ringing of sexual innuendo and desire, betraying her husband's secret. It was all there: five months of lies, 151 days of dishonesty, hour after hour of deceit.

At first she had ignored her suspicions. After getting home the night she had literally ran into Ryan's boss, she had made up excuses for him, her heart incapable of accepting the truth. She told herself he liked the Seattle climate, that he was looking into surprising her with a second bakery there, making 'Saccharine Dreams' a chain, that he had become a fan of fresh water fishing and would retreat into the wilderness of Washington to escape the pressures of his job, but her mind wouldn't believe the lies forever, and, eventually, she erupted in a fit of suspicion and doubt, turning their house upside for information.

As more proof of his infidelity became apparent, fresh tears would spill out of her midnight black eyes, her own personal rain shower of misery to contradict the perfect weather gracing Southern California that March. For two weeks she had not stepped outside of her front door. The mail had filled their box to capacity, but, refusing to pick it up, she let the postman take it all back to the office to gather in a bin, ignoring the messages they left on her machine daily requesting she pick up their correspondence. The lawn grew unmanageable, the flower beds became choked with feeds, food spoiled in the fridge as she refused to eat, dust covered the furniture and floors, and dirty laundry piled up in dark corners of her bedroom, a room she refused to sleep in. The bakery existed on its own; she hadn't even called in to tell them she would be absent from work for a few days, so she ignored her managers' phone calls as well. There was just one voice she wanted to hear on her answering machine, one man's words of devotion and promises to see her soon, a sign that he missed her while he was away weeks on end for work, but Ryan never called. So, she roamed the house like a caged animal, destroying reminders of her hope and collecting signs of his affair.

Casting her eyes back to his computer screen, she saw for what might have been the tenth time that day so far that he was finally coming home that evening, but, as her eyes scanned his personal calendar, the most painful emails saved in his mailbox were tiled behind the professional organizer, tempting her to read them again. Memories of the sentences, phrases, words she had read repetitively for days straight assaulted her mind. 'Our home,' 'my very own key to our apartment,' 'I bought new sheets for our bed,' 'I have a surprise for you,' 'a weekend alone in Florida together,' 'hun,' 'honey,' 'baby,' 'sweetie,' 'can't wait to see you soon,' 'my sister says hi,' 'I had a dream about you last night,' 'love,' 'love,' 'love,' 'love,' 'love!,' every utterance shared between them made her heart shatter into tiny, unfixable pieces.

Letting out a rage filled, blinding shriek of horror, her arm swept across the desk, knocking the flat screen panel of her husband's computer onto the floor, the sound of it breaking making a smile form on her otherwise destroyed and distraught face. The destruction was soothing, comforting, and it was the least of what he deserved. Standing up, she threw everything else sitting on his desk, his mouse, his picture frames, his various pieces of sports memorabilia against the wall, watching the shards of glass rain down onto the floor in triumph. Grabbing every pen from his drawer, she moved around the desk and stabbed into the leather couch sitting opposite of the wooden work space, ripping and tearing shreds into the soft, expensive fabric. Still not satisfied, she tore a baseball bat hanging from the wall down and ran to the glass display case highlighting his most prized possessions, obliterating it with just a few well aimed swings. Minutes passed by, the morning turned into afternoon, and, methodically, Theresa made her way around the small study annihilating it past the point of recognition. By the time she finished, the room was filled with a mockingly bright light, the blinds ruined in her rage, and she was exhausted and breathless. Gently, she set the bat aside, pushing the rubble aside to clear a small patch of the floor. Lying down, she curled herself into a tight, protective ball, finally, after days of torture, capable of falling asleep. Ryan would be home soon; she would need her strength.

Walking through the airport, her carryon suitcase following obediently and orderly behind her, Marissa quickly made her way to the designated location she had told Ryan to meet her in the message she had left with him at the front desk. Smartly dressed in a conservative, confident knee length, form fitting dress with heals, she appeared as if she was about to go to a business meeting and not fly across country, but, determined to push for a resolution in their relationship, she needed to not only feel and be in control but look the part as well.

Taking a seat towards the front of the café she had chosen for their conversation, Marissa set her purse down and glanced at her watch, anxious for the meeting to be over so she could escape the haunting images Miami had left her with and go back to Seattle and continue putting her life in order. She was five minutes early though, so, after waving off the waitress who had appeared at her side to offer her a menu, she folded her hands in her lap and stared straight ahead preparing herself for what was to come and hoping Ryan would not be late. Her plane left in half an hour which meant she had a tight time table to stick with, and, if he wasn't on time, then their very important conversation would have to wait until the next time they saw each other, and who knew when that would be.

"Hey, I'm not late, am I," Ryan asked as he breezed into the small restaurant a few minutes later and took the seat across from her. Reaching over the span of the round table separating them, he went to take her hand in his, but she snapped her arms away quickly before he could touch her.

"We need to talk, Ryan."

"I know," he acknowledged, nodding his head in agreement, "and I know that's why you asked me here, but do you care if I go first?" Gesturing silently, she encouraged him to continue. "What happened back there, back on the beach," he inquired. "One minute we were having fun, enjoying each others company, and then the next minute you're bolting off, scared, as quickly as you can."

"What happened was that you were about to kiss me," Marissa answered him bitterly, her eyes flashing in anger, but her tone was low, personal, private.

"Don't deny that you didn't want to kiss me, too."

Exasperatedly, she threw up her hands. "Of course I wanted to kiss you! I've wanted nothing but to kiss you again, hold you, be with you since those precious moments we shared on the plane all those months ago, but I know that nothing can happen between us…at least not yet."

Narrowing the space between them, he leaned across the table. "And why not?"

"Because you're married, Ryan," Marissa exploded, scooting her chair back to get further away from his outstretched arms. "I refuse to let you cheat on your wife; I refuse to let you make me nothing more than your mistress. I deserve more from you!"

"That's not how I look at you," he argued with her becoming slightly frustrated, "but what do you want from me? I want to be with you, you want to be with me, so what's the problem? We've been dancing around our feelings for months, denying our attraction, and claiming we're just friends when we're anything but."

"You're right, I do want you, and do you know why?" When he didn't answer, she continued to push, explaining herself and wanting to elicit a reaction from him. "I can't just be your friend, because I'm in love with you. Every decision I make in my life revolves around you. I have this image in my mind of my future, and you're the man standing beside me, you're the man I see myself marrying and having children with. There's just one small problem: you're already married to someone else."

"So, what are you saying?"

"I'm saying you have a choice to make, Ryan. You need to figure out, once and for all, what you want…who you want. It's either me or your wife, but, until you make that decision, I need you to stay away from me. That means no phone calls, no emails, no surprise visits. If you choose to stay with Theresa," she said through tears, finally breaking down, "then I hope you find whatever in life you're searching for, that you learn to be happy, and that maybe someday, once I've moved on, we could honestly be friends, and, if you choose me, then I'll be waiting for you." Standing up, she took hold of her suitcase and lifted her purse onto her shoulder. "When you have your answer, you know where to find me."

As she went to walk away, her arm was suddenly restrained. Ryan had stood up and held her back. "Wait," he said breathlessly. "I…."

But she wouldn't listen to what he said. Interrupting him, Marissa insisted. "Don't say anything, not right now. This is too big of a decision for you to make lightly or quickly. In an hour, you're going to be boarding a flight home. Sit here while you wait for your boarding call and think about what you want. Rest on the plane ride and think some more. I just….you can't regret this decision, Ryan; you can't wake up a month from now and realize that you made the wrong choice and want to change it. What you decide is going to alter three lives forever." Offering him a small smile when he let go of her arm, she calmly ended their conversation. "Have a safe flight." With one last look at the man she was in love with, Marissa turned around, his image ingrained in her mind….just in case it was the last time she ever saw him.

There was an eerie, sinister glow to the night sky as Ryan stepped out of his car and walked up the pathway leading to the front door of his house. The sun had just set, and dusk was settling over the inland community, a murky, completely unnatural purple aura cloaking the early evening hours in mystery and apprehension. As he took in the shabby, unkempt appearance of his house, he knew there was something wrong. Quickly, he made his way inside, depositing his belonging at the foot of the stairs before wandering through the silent home.

"Theresa," he called out loudly feeling unnerved. "Are you here?"

There was no answer. He checked all about the house, looking in the places he would normally find her: the kitchen, the dining room, the laundry room, her craft room in the basement, their bedroom, the living room, even the spare bedroom that he knew she dreamed of making into a nursery someday. When he couldn't find her, he went and looked in the back yard, but still there was no sign of her. He knew her car was in the garage, so it only made sense that she was home. If there had been nothing else out of the ordinary, he would have just assumed she was out for a jog or sitting with one of neighbors, but Theresa took pride in their house; she would never let it become so disorderly and dirty. Determined to figure out what was going on, he made his way to his office, stopping suddenly in the doorway as the utter destruction of his study became apparent.

"Oh my god," he breathed out, his eyes surveying the damage in the dimly lit room. "What the hell happened here?" Walking into the ravaged space, he switched on the overhead light. He was rendered speechless at the sight before him. Turning around slowly in a circle, his feet crushing bits and shards of glass beneath the soles of his shoes, he could do nothing but stare in horror at the wreckage his prized possessions had been turned into. Sudden movement in a dark corner hidden with shadows caused him to jump in fright, his back slamming hard into the corner of his scratched and broken desk. "What the fuck do you want from me", he screamed in terror towards the second person in the room, their calm mocking his fright.

"Hello Ryan."

"Jesus Christ, Theresa," Ryan shouted, anger flashing through his eyes. "Were you trying to give me a heart attack? What were you doing hiding in the shadows?"

"You know I don't like that word," she chastised, moving slowly towards him, ignoring his questions.

Demanding to know what happened, Ryan pushed. "Did someone break in?"

"What would you say if I said yes?"

"I'd say why, what did they take," he responded, glancing around the room. Theresa's crazed laugh snapped him from his thoughts. "What's going on with you? You're acting really weird. And you never answered my question. Did someone break in?"

"No one broke in," she dismissed his concerns. "I did this, and what's going on is that you just failed your test."

"You did what?"

She, once again, ignored his concerns. "I wanted to see what your reaction would be if you thought someone had broken into our house while I was here…alone, whether or not you'd be concerned for me, but, instead of saying, 'are you alright, Theresa,' you were only concerned with your material possessions. I can't say that I'm surprised though."

Confused and irate, Ryan asked, "so you did all this, you destroyed seven years of my career and even more years of my life to stage a test for me? Are you fucking insane?"

"No," she answered smugly, "in fact, I'm finally seeing clearly for the first time in months. This," she motioned to the obliteration of his office, "is not the work of a crazed, deranged woman; this is the revenge of a scorned wife. What," she taunted, "are we suddenly at a loss for words?"

Resolutely, Ryan replied. "I never cheated on you."

"Bullshit," she yelled with conviction. "Don't lie to me Ryan!"

"I'm not lying to you. I did not have an affair."

"Well the fact that you asked for all the Seattle assignments tells me otherwise," she argued walking towards his desk. Picking up the dozens of receipts she found, she threw them at him. "These receipts reek of infidelity, and your computer files paint a very descriptive and detailed picture of an affair. So tell me," she pushed him, "if you weren't having an affair, just what the hell were you doing behind my back?"

"I….it's not what you think," he stammered over his words backing away from his incensed wife.

"Tell me who the fuck Marissa is, and I want to know the WHOLE story!"

Sighing, Ryan started to talk, turning his back on Theresa to look out the window at the peaceful outside world as that on the inside of his house fell apart. "We met five months ago on a plane ride from Columbus to Seattle. It was just your typical flight, nothing out of the ordinary, but then we started noticing the stewardesses moving around hastily, back and forth into the cockpit, and then they became upset. Before we knew what was happening, the plane was going down without proper landing equipment, and we thought we were going to die, but, in the middle of all that chaos, there was this beautiful woman who literally broke through my panic and fear….and we connected. It was like nothing I'd ever experienced before, but we both thought we were going to die, and I couldn't let that happen without, at least, kissing her just one time. So, I did. Obviously, we survived; the captain was able to make an emergency landing in a field. Even though I was able to leave the near death experience behind me after I climbed off the plane, I couldn't forget about the woman who had so captured my attention. From that point on, we started hanging out whenever I was in Seattle. I went up to see her on Halloween instead of staying here with you, I asked for a permanent assignment there so I could see her as often as possible, I had thanksgiving with her and her sister. When we celebrated Christmas together, she gave me a key to her apartment, and it became our place…together. We talked on the phone and sent emails back and forth. There were countless amounts of hugs, kisses on the cheek and forehead, and, starting at Christmas time, we began sharing a bed….platonically. Every time I would stay with her though, we were always fully dressed; after that first kiss on the plane, nothing inappropriate happened again, but, this weekend, it almost did. She met me in Florida, so we could spend some time together while I worked, and this afternoon, while we were at the beach, I almost kissed her; I wanted to kiss her so badly, but I didn't. I swear to you, Theresa, this is the truth. I NEVER cheated on you. I'm NOT having an affair."

"But you want to," she surmised. Ryan could no nothing but bow his head in agreement. Suddenly, the fire, the anger vanished from Theresa, and she was left only feeling hurt and betrayed. "Do you love her," she whispered. When Ryan refused to answer her question, she posed it again, replacing her soft tones with frenzied screams. "DO YOU LOVE HER?"

"Yes."

His answer was simple, to the point, and exactly what she had expected him to say. "Get out," she ordered, moving towards him threateningly.

"What," Ryan asked dazed by her demand. "Where do you want me to go?"

"I don't care where you go," Theresa cried out passionately. "Go back to your whore for all I care! I just want you….no I need you out of my sight."

"Wha….what does this mean," Ryan stuttered, feeling disorientated over how quickly his life had seemingly spun out of control. While the events leading up to the confrontation had taken months, everything was changing in matter of seconds. Backing up, he moved towards the foyer as Theresa followed him, pushing him closer and closer to their front door. "What about our marriage, my things, our house," he asked, motioning towards the very home he was speaking of, the home he had so blindly and contemptuously destroyed. "When you say get out, do you mean for the night? Am I supposed to come back tomorrow morning so we can talk about this? What do you want from me?"

Before answering, Theresa opened the door and motioned for Ryan to walk outside. Once he was beyond the entrance's threshold, she finally answered all of his questions with a single, simple statement. "I want a divorce." With that, she closed the door in her estranged husband's face, locking it, and walked away….for good. She had cried her last tear over Ryan Atwood.