Hello again! So sorry for the long wait… I'm a busy bee. Thank you for all the wonderful feedback on the first chapter, it's very much appreciated! If I could hug every last one of you, I would. Becky, this one is for you…. You'll know.
Enjoy!
"I filed for divorce."
He says it without warning one day, sitting in Emma's office in the chair across from her desk, as if he can't hold it in any longer.
"Will." She can only manage to say, alarm in her voice, before her mind fails her intention to find words. She stares blankly at him for a moment. She blinks, and tries to read the empty expression on his face. "When?" she utters.
"I met with a lawyer a few days ago… nothing is official yet, but I'm done with Terri. I just… couldn't look passed what she did."
"I'm so sorry." She murmurs, truth to what she's saying, despite how much time she's spent waiting for some form of these words to come from his mouth. Her mouth remains open, but she can't find anymore words.
He nods silently, ducking his head and letting out a deep sigh. "Don't be, Em." he says finally, running a hand through his hair exasperatedly. "This is good." His gaze rises to meet hers then and he finds a smile tugging at his lips. His stare is so insistent, so full of an emotion she can't quite indentify that she feels her skin begin to burn with the intensity. "This could be really good." He adds with emphasis.
His tone and the possible meaning of his words hang in the air like a tentative promise. The way he looks at her has her unnerved. She wonders if he meant the words to come out the way she took them, and if he felt the same rush that flooded her veins when their gazes locked.
She ducks her head, feeling her cheeks flush. She mentally berates herself for thinking that Will and his wife separating, and imminently getting divorced, could actually be a good thing. But she can't hold back the thoughts of what could be, now that he's no longer tied down. She clears her throat, willing her wishes to bury themselves in the back of her mind, and decides to change the subject.
"So, um… any plans for this weekend?" She stammers. A neutral topic is good, she thinks. Maybe it'll stop her from thinking of his lips on hers every time they curl into that crooked smile she loves so much.
He releases a breathless, almost bitter, laugh and scratches at the back of his neck awkwardly. Thanksgiving falls on the long weekend ahead of them; she hadn't thought of how it might be odd for him to talk about his first holiday without his wife.
"Oh Will, I'm sor-"
"No, Emma, it's okay." He interjects gently, attempting a smile, "I was supposed to have dinner with my parents, but they decided to go out of town… So, it looks like I'll be having Chinese take out for Thanksgiving dinner."
She stares at him sadly and he diverts his eyes to the wall, unable to stand her pitiful gaze. He sighs loudly and dramatically and she feels her heart break for him for what feels like the millionth time over the last couple of weeks.
"My family decided it's my turn to have everyone over for dinner this year," she says finally, sounding unenthused but then her tone lightens as she smiles at him, "you should come."
"Emma, I can't do that." He says insistently.
"I don't want you to be alone." She murmurs, giving him a look that dares him to continue to argue, and the uncertainty in his eyes softens. Her next words cause nerves to manifest in her stomach and she nervously bites her lip. "And I want you to be there."
"Emma…" He repeats, preparing himself to argue that he doesn't want to intrude on her time with her family, but she quickly interrupts him again.
"Will." She mimics, her tone mocking. He cracks a smile and she chuckles. The moment passes and he notices the playful glint in her eye as she says, "Just come. For me?"
He's taken back to a memory in the not-too distant past, when he had been willing to give up the job that he loves for a family that is now merely lies and ruins. She had said those very same words to him and, later, sat across from him as he relived the happiest moment of his life from her laptop's screen. She had given him much more than career advice that day.
"Alright." He finally agrees, his voice a vehement whisper.
He knocks on her door a couple of nights later, awkwardly adjusting his tie and biting back his nerves. He's never had anxiety about meeting new people; but for some reason, the thought of spending the evening with Emma and her family causes his head to spin a little bit. He swallows, taking a deep breath, before the door opens and Emma stands before him.
The grin she has on is radiant, and he can't help but notice the way the dress she's wearing fits her perfectly. His lips hang widely parted for a minute before he can remind himself to smile back at her. They exchange a warm greeting as Will walks in and hands her the bottle of white wine he brought for the occasion. He had contemplated getting her flowers as a thank you for the invitation, knowing how she admired them, but he dismissed the idea quickly after realizing the message that would send.
She leads him into the apartment and he immediately notices how it complements her character. Even more, as his gaze sweeps over her, he sees how differently she carries herself here than at work. He can't exactly pinpoint what's changed, but she seems more… comfortable. Relaxed. He quickly finds himself feeling the same way.
Will is promptly introduced to her family: her parents and her brother, Nathan, his wife, and their baby daughter. The pang in his chest can't be helped when he sees the latter, but he wills away the painful sting to his recent wounds. He politely shakes everyone's hand and playfully winks at Emma's flushed face when her mother exclaims, "so you're the Will we keep hearing about?"
He excuses himself from the table as the conversation after dinner begins to wind down, deciding to give Emma and her family a little time to themselves. Unseen, he walks to the living room and stands there aimlessly for a moment. He smiles as he takes in the décor of the pristine room. His thoughts are interrupted when he feels an odd tug at his pant leg. He looks down to find Emma's tiny niece staring back at him, an adorable baby grin on her one year old face.
"Up!" she squeals, holding her chubby hands above her head. He chuckles and can't resist a smile as he complies with her wishes, settling her comfortably in his arms. He walks to the nearby couch and takes a seat, his heart melting as she grabs a tiny fistful of his shirt and nestles into his hold. Soon, she's yawning and her eyes begin to close as she falls asleep.
He stares down at her, sighing somberly and wondering how it would have felt to hold a little girl of his own. A few minutes pass as he sits there silently, holding the child and wishing the twinge in his heart would fade. Soon, he hears footsteps approaching and Emma walks into the room, spotting him on the couch.
Slowly, she makes her way over to him, feeling her heart break as she sees the slightly forlorn look on his face. She bites her lips as he meets her gaze awkwardly.
"We were wondering where you two went." She says finally, standing directly in front of him and looking down at her niece in his arms. She beams as she notices how snug the baby looks in his hold. "I'll tell Nathan she's here." She quickly excuses herself as Will nods, and comes back a moment later with her brother behind her.
Nathan's brow arches in mild surprise as he sees Will.
"Wow, she must like you." Nathan chuckles, taking the baby as Will stands and approaches him. He shrugs as Nathan carefully takes his daughter, not wanting to wake her.
"Sorry about that, she insisted I pick her up and then she fell right to sleep." He says softly.
"You must be a natural…" Nathan grins, "Have any of your own?"
Will's frantic gaze meets Emma's fleetingly before he quickly stares at the floor, willing the air to return to his lungs. He clears his throat of the slight lump that's lodged itself there.
"I-um.. no, I don't." he mumbles.
Nathan then turns to Emma, telling her that he and the rest of her guests will be leaving any moment. She nods silently and he walks out of the room.
She looks over at Will, still averting his gaze from her and whispers, "Stay here… I'll be right back."
He can vaguely hear her bid goodbye to her family as they thank her for dinner and tell her they'll see each other soon. He sinks to the couch again, bracing his elbows against his knees and burying his face in his shaking hands. He doesn't notice when she makes her way over to him and takes a seat.
"I'm so sorry for that…" she murmurs.
"Next Thanksgiving, I would have had my own daughter or son with me. My own family." He finally gathers himself enough to meet her persistent gaze; the look in his eyes is enough to make her desperate to take away the turmoil he's feeling.
"I know." She mouths, reaching over slightly. In an uncharacteristic move, she gently uncurls the fist he has laying nearest her and entwines their fingers.
The warmth of her palm and the soft feel of her thumb against his knuckles send soothing waves washing over him, but tears begin to pool in his eyes regardless. He coughs uneasily and shakes his head.
"No," he grumbles, his voice hoarse. "How can I be so… upset over something that was never real?"
Even in the dark lit room, she sees the lone tear that cascades down his face, and she squeezes his hand just a little tighter.
"Will." She says insistently, "To you, that baby was real."
A couple of weeks later, he walks into her office, just as he does every other day. This time, though, there's a gleam in his eyes that she's rarely seen recently. However, there's a sheepish manner to the way he's carrying himself, as if he's uncertain about something. He sits across from her wordlessly and grins at her. She can't help but smile back at the warm gesture.
"Hi…" he says finally, softness in his tone.
"Hi, Will."
"So, I have something to ask you…" He mumbles, quickly running a hand through his curly hair. She nods, urging him to continue. "Figgins asked me to chaperone the Christmas dance. There's a few chaperones, but we're still short some people…"
She has a feeling she knows where this is going. The idea of spending her Friday night in a gym full of rowdy, dancing teenagers is less than appealing. But the way he smirks that lopsided grin of his as she looks at him knowingly has her already willing.
"I was thinking if you came along… it might make the ordeal a little more bearable." He chuckles and she joins in.
"Okay, Will. I'd be glad to help."
The bell rings then, and Will quickly rises from his seat, muttering something about being late for Spanish class.
"Hey Emma," He turns as he opens the door and she looks up from the paperwork on her desk. "Maybe we could share a dance."
He winks and closes the door behind him as he leaves. She's left with her heart in her throat and her mouth hanging open in silence.
Friday comes faster than expected; Will picks up Emma at her condo a few hours after school, claiming it's the least he could do for getting her into chaperoning. As she opens the door to greet him, he feels the air in his lungs fleetingly leave him. The dress she's wearing, while still professional, hugs the delicate curves of her body amazingly. The dark color is not her usual style, but it contrasts her porcelain skin perfectly. For a moment he can't even take his eyes off her.
"You look… wow." He whispers and she blushes profusely.
They soon make their way to his old car. Surprising him and even herself, she has no trouble climbing in, after she quickly wipes down the seat, of course. They ride in content silence on their way to McKinley, Will humming quietly in time with the radio. She takes comfort in simply listening to him.
"William, Miss Pillsbury!" Figgins exclaims as soon as they walk into the school, "glad you're here. We're short staffed tonight, you know, and there's been much gallivanting already. William, I think you should keep an eye on the hallways… students have been escaping the gymnasium and letting their hormones get the best of them, I'm afraid." He coughs uncomfortably.
Will rolls his eyes at the idea of McKinley's teens leaving the dance to make out in some hidden corner of the school. He hesitantly agrees anyway, wanting to argue but knowing Figgins wouldn't be bothered by his reluctance. Next to him, Emma eyes the crowd of kids apprehensively as most of them dance in a way that makes Will grimace. He spots some of his Glee clubbers standing not to far away, laughing amongst themselves, and he smiles.
When Emma's eyes meet his, he instantly feels guilty for bringing her here. There's a fear in them that tells him she would rather do anything than find herself in that crowd of sweating, rowdy teens. Before Will can apologize and offer to take her home, Figgins ushers her away with a hand to her upper back and mumbles something about helping him supervise the dance floor.
Sighing, Will begins to walks down the hallways of the school, thinking this night is going nothing like he wanted it to. He hears the soft guitar strains of a slow, romantic song begin to play in the distance and can't help but think about pulling Emma into his arms for a few stolen minutes.
A couple of agonizing hours later, students begin to leave the school and Will catches Emma's eye as he makes his way into the gym. She briskly walks over to him, and if he wasn't so worried about her, he'd chuckle at her eagerness.
"Ready to go?" he says unnecessarily as she reaches him. She turns and eyes the nearly empty room with mild disgust.
"Definitely." She shudders. He breathes a laugh, putting an arm around her shoulder in a casual gesture of support. He draws her closer for a second, giving her an odd half-hug, and drops his arm. She can't help but feel slightly cold when his hand leaves the skin of her arm.
When they reach her apartment, she eyes the clock on his dashboard and notices that it's still fairly early in the evening. Gathering her nerve, she shifts her gaze to Will, who's looking at her timid face with a furrowed brow.
"I could use a tea after all that… would you like one?"
He beams at her, nods, and steps from the car. She takes off her shoes as they enter her apartment and he follows. As she begins to busy herself around the kitchen, he stands with his hands in his pockets, watching her silently for a moment.
"Anything I can do?" he offers politely.
"Um," she bites her lip as she fills a kettle with water, making him grin at the habit he rarely sees. "There's a radio in the next room, how about some music?"
He nods, quickly finding the stereo that sits above her TV in the living room. He turns it on and finds a soft rock station, adjusting the volume before returning to the kitchen. She sets the kettle on the stove and turns on the burner.
She turns around to find his arm stretched out toward her, his hand is open in an offer for her to take it. There's a warm smile on his face and a tender look in his gaze. She freezes, glancing up at him questioningly.
"Dance with me." He breathes, and suddenly, she finds herself powerless to him.
Her hand slips into his and he presses them against his chest, while his other comes to rest gently on her waist. She can feel the rhythmic beat of his heart against her palm. Gentle music plays softly from the next room and her cloudy mind manages to recognize the song as an overplayed Lifehouse piece. As the lyrics speak of being so broken, and so hurt that you can barely breathe, Emma sighs deeply.
"This song is sad…" she murmurs, impulsively letting her head rest on his shoulder. For a second she thinks that she can't believe she's standing there, dancing in her kitchen with him.
Her breath begins to run across the sensitive skin of his neck, and he can't help but tense slightly at the feeling. He hopes she doesn't feel the shudder that runs down his spine.
"Sometimes the sad ones are the best." Both of them know they're talking about something entirely different than music. His arm wraps around her a little tighter, pulling her close.
She hums, whether in approval of his actions or in time with the vocals of the song, he doesn't know. The burning in his chest and his pulse swarming through his veins begins to make his head spin. He leans a little closer to her, his mouth a breath away from her ear.
"In the pain, there is healing. In your name, I find meaning…" he croons in time with the radio. He takes his hand from her waist, cupping her cheek and gently angling her gaze to meet his.
The fervor in his eyes nearly causes her to lose balance, but she composes herself long enough to whisper his name with a mildly perplexed tone.
His expression is an odd mixture of determination and adoration as he stares down at her wordlessly for a moment. Her lips part as she tries desperately to think of something to say: something that will ease the alarm in her body that's screaming at his proximity and the way his body sways with hers. His eyes dart away and focus on her mouth before he begins to lean closer.
His lips are painfully close to hers when she finally realizes what's happening. She can feel his warm breath starting to mingle with hers, and she's truly felt nothing more magnetizing in her life. Her entire body is calling out for her to close the gap between them and finally give into the unbelievable way she feels for him.
But just as his lips faintly graze against hers, not enough to even be considered a kiss, she freezes. Her conscious is flaring, burning in the pit of her stomach, and telling her this isn't right.
"Will…" she breathes. She doesn't attempt to pull away from him, but the way she utters his name makes him pause before he can get any further. "We can't. You're… you're still married."
He wants to argue; he wants to tell her he stopped being married the second Terri admitted she had been lying. But on some level, beneath all his impulses and longing to be close to her, he knows she's right. He has yet to sign documents that would officially declare him a free man.
But his need to just give in and kiss her is almost surpassing his need to breathe.
He almost begins to ignore her argument and lean in again, but she whispers to him once more, slightly more forceful this time. Her voice sounds like a plea, because she couldn't stand to kiss him and know that he still belongs to someone else.
His eyes close tightly and his forehead falls from hers in defeat, grazing the bridge of her nose. His rests near her lips and he could swear he feels her peck the end of it lightly. He shudders, releasing a shaky breath as she does the same.
The kettle behind them whistles offensively, the high-pitched noise cutting through the tension between them.
"I'm sorry, Emma." He says, tearing himself away from her and averting his gaze. "I just…"
He trails off, not finishing the thought because he truly doesn't know what to say. He can't exactly say I couldn't help myself, or I can't control the way I feel about you… or even, I think I'm falling in love with you. No, instead he just keeps his mouth shut and finds discomfort in her same momentary silence. When it's clear to her that he has nothing else to say, she turns and tends to the stove.
"I'll, um…" he curses himself for being unable to come up with words. "I think I'm just going to go, Em."
She faces him instantly, her doe eyes boring into his guilty ones. She shakes her head and her stare silently pleads with him to stay. He wants nothing more than to go along with her wishes but his lips continue to ache to feel hers, and all at once he doesn't think he can trust his mind to ignore his impulses.
"Will." She murmurs as he makes his way to her door, desolation in her tone. "Don't…"
He opens the door anyway, after quickly and clumsily slipping on his shoes, and makes a failed attempt to smile at her reassuringly.
"I'll see you Monday."
And then he's gone.
Well, there's chapter 2! It appears I have a thing for angst, don't I? By the way, in case some of you were wondering, the song playing as they dance is Broken by Lifehouse. There will be one or two more chapters to this story. I'll try hard to update faster this time! Anyway, I hope you liked it! Let me know what you think!