Chapter Eight

House had lots of reasons for choosing Lisa, some more legitimate than others. He knew he'd feel like shit for hurting her if he chose Wilson, but of course he also felt like shit for hurting Wilson by choosing her. For the first time since he'd realised he was in love with his best friend, House wished the oncologist did not share his feelings. It would be so much easier if his love was unrequited. So much cleaner. A ready-made excuse to stay with Lisa until the end of time. Before, he'd lie awake at night wondering what it would be like to have Wilson beside him, knowing it was an idle fantasy that would never come true. Now he lay awake knowing that if he wanted Wilson next to him, he could make it happen within the day. He tried as hard as he could not to think those thoughts, because whenever he did he felt a strange leaping feeling in his chest, immediately followed by overwhelming guilt. He'd turn to his girlfriend, slip a hand through her hair and cup her cheek. She usually smiled in her sleep and turned into his touch, which only served to make him guiltier. Her she was, completely in love with him, meanwhile he was fantasising about someone else.

But at least he chose her, he reminded himself. Yes, he was in love with Wilson, but he was sticking by Lisa's side. It was the right thing to do. She wanted him to be with her, and he was going to give her what she wanted. He owed her that.

At the same time, though, he knew he was being unfair to her. Lying by omission. Though he meant it every time he told her he loved her, he knew she believed he was in love with her. She thought his heart belonged to her, and it did not. She was just borrowing it indefinitely. Renting it from Wilson.

Would she want to be with him if she knew his feelings weren't as strong as hers? He wasn't sure if she could be happy with anyone else—she'd tried so hard to make it work with Lucas, but she knew she really wanted House. So would she look past the fact that he was in love with someone else and be with him anyway? He couldn't know unless he told her. She was happier not knowing, certainly, but she was living a lie this way. It wasn't fair to her.

Neither way was fair to her.

But she was a grown woman. She knew by now that life wasn't fair.

He decided to tell her.

.

Just like House was unsure of his real reasons for staying with Lisa, he was also unsure of his real reasons for telling her he was in love with Wilson. The part of him that always tried to force his wandering mind to daydream of his best friend was convinced that he hoped she would break up with him upon hearing the news, leaving him free to be with Wilson. He tried to suppress that part, telling himself that she deserved to know. Of course, he'd never considered telling her before he knew Wilson felt the same way, so maybe that wasn't why. But he'd also hoped, before his and Wilson's conversation in his office, that his feelings for the oncologist might dissipate. Knowing the other man felt the same way, he no longer believed there was any chance of that happening. What he felt for Wilson wouldn't go away just because he wanted it to. It was a permanent state.

But at the same time, he knew he would also always have feelings for Lisa. He'd been interested in a relationship with her since he'd known her in med school, before he and Wilson had even met. His feelings for her weren't as strong as those for Wilson, but they were there. They'd lasted twenty-five years. They wouldn't go away. House wasn't even sure how long he'd been in love with Wilson, but it wasn't nearly as long as he'd loved Lisa.

He loved Lisa. He was determined to cling to that fact. It made his relationship mean something. It kept it from being a farce.

.

It was about eight-thirty at night. Lisa had just put Rachel to bed and was now making her way to join her boyfriend on the sofa. She was wearing navy blue sweats and a V-neck T-shirt, her hair in a messy ponytail much like it had been the night of the Trenton disaster when she'd told House she loved him. She looked tired but cheerful as she sat down next to House and smiled at him.

He felt like the world's biggest asshole for what he had to do.

"What's up?" she asked.

He'd been watching her as she sat down instead of looking at the TV. He hadn't been aware of it. Her left leg dangled of the sofa and she was holding her right knee, leaning on it.

"Lisa, I..." They watched each other. She waited patiently for him to go on. "I love you."

She nodded and smiled. "I love you too, Greg."

He shook his head. "I love you. I'm not in love with you."

Her smile faded.

"I'm still gonna make this work," he insisted before she could say anything. "I care about you, you're important to me, I told you I would and I will. I've loved you for twenty-five years. I've waited for you for twenty-five years. I'm not gonna pretend that doesn't mean something to me. We're together and I don't want that to change. I just..." as he trailed off he looked away. "I just think it's better that you know the truth."

"Which is what?" she asked angrily. Her brow had furrowed and her glare held confusion. "What, you're not in love with me but you want to be with me? What the hell is that supposed to mean, House?"

Yes, she was mad. It had been a long time since she'd used his surname; even at work she called him Greg, though he admitted that at the hospital he still thought of her as Cuddy.

"I don't want this to change," he explained, though part of him, of course, did. "We've worked toward this for a long time, I made a promise to you and I'm keeping it. I'm not throwing it away. I just don't wanna lie to you."

"Of course you don't," she scoffed, looking away. "Everybody lies except you, right? You're not gonna...be nice to try and please somebody, even somebody you love."

She said it with disdain. He recalled that Wilson once said that was the reason he was friends with House, because House didn't lie to make people feel better. It was refreshing to him, a quality in the diagnostician that he liked (though to be fair, he too had expressed frustration with it at times). But here she was wishing he weren't that way, preferring he keep her happy by feeding her untruths. Ignorance is bliss, right?

"This is who I am," he said softly. "Take it or leave it."

"Well which do you want me to do?" she demanded. "At this point I'm not even sure."

"Lisa, I don't want to break up with you," he said, shifting his body on the sofa so he could look at her without tilting his head. He started to take her hand, and she looked down at it but didn't pull away. "I mean that. I love you."

She looked at him for a second, trying to read his face. He tried to give her a loving expression to show that he meant what he said. Lisa sighed. "But you're not in love with me. Is there someone you are in love with then, or just...what, Greg?"

He looked away and nodded. "I'm in love with Wilson."

Lisa scoffed and pulled her hand away. "Wilson," she repeated, saying the name as though it were dirty. "Of course you are. This is just...typical."

"I can't help it, Lisa," he defended. "You can't control who you fall for. You know this as well as anyone. Like you reminded me the night we got together, you wished you didn't love me; you wanted to be with Lucas but I was holding you back."

"Don't you turn this around and get upset with me," she said with a glare. "I chose you, didn't I?"

"And I'm choosing you," House said.

"There's a difference, House," she pointed out. "You don't even have a choice. Wilson is straight; he doesn't love you. If he did I'm sure you'd just run to him."

"Well you're wrong," he said defiantly, irritated with her for assuming. "He does love me. He told me he did last week. He asked me to leave you. But I told him no. Because I love you, Lisa. I could have either of you, and I'm picking you."

She looked surprised; much more surprised at hearing Wilson's feelings than she had at hearing House's. "Why?" she asked eventually.

Not looking at her, he half-shrugged. "I promised you I'd try to make it work. You're important enough to me that I'm going to keep that promise."

For the first time since he'd told her he wasn't in love with her, she smiled.

He turned to her. "You mean a lot to me, Lisa. I don't want to give you up."

She nodded, and he leaned forward to hug her. She hugged him back, placing a quick kiss on his cheek. "You're sure this is what you want?" she whispered into his ear.

He nodded against her face and stroked her hair. "I'm sure, Lisa."

"And you're not going to change your mind?" she continued, keeping a tight hold on his body, keeping him close to her.

"I won't change my mind."

He continued to hold her, and she smiled.

.

Neither Lisa nor House brought up the topic again, but he knew there was a subtle shift in their relationship. She was more guarded around him, and her smile was sometimes strained. She didn't initiate touching as frequently as she used to. He had to move next to her on the couch, as though telling her it was okay if she wanted to cuddle with him. Things hadn't changed for him. He still felt warm inside when he looked at her, and especially when she smiled at him. He still felt extremely attracted to her and sometimes started a make-out session that would lead to sex just because she bent over to pick something up, or if he was in the room when she changed her clothes. House hoped that, in time, his girlfriend would come to realise that he didn't think of her as just a substitute for what he really wanted, he loved being with her even though she was Lisa and not Wilson, and maybe she would regain the comfort she'd had with him before he'd told her about his feelings for his friend.

He knew it would take time, though. Especially when they saw each other at work, she acted unsure of their relationship. One time, about a week after their conversation, House and Lisa were eating lunch together in the cafeteria and Wilson walked by. He smiled at Lisa as he passed, and House watched him go even though the younger man did not look at him.

House didn't think he'd been looking at Wilson any more than was normal to watch someone who'd just walked by the table, but Lisa must have noticed because, out of nowhere, she sighed, "Greg, are you sure?"

He turned back to face her, looking directly into her blue-grey eyes. "Lisa, do you want me to leave you for him?" he asked, slightly irritated.

"Of course not," she said, looking down. "I love you and I want you to be with me, but I also want you to be happy. If you're not happy–"

"–Do I seem unhappy?" he cut her off. She must have felt his eyes on her, because she looked up at him again. "When we're at home, and I'm with you, eating dinner or watching TV or having sex or anything in between, does it ever seem to you like my heart's not in it, like it isn't really what I want?"

"No," she admitted, shaking her head. "No...other than telling me how you feel about him, you haven't given me any cause for doubt..."

"So don't doubt, then," he said. Not caring that they were in public, he reached across the table for her hand, stroking it. "Lisa, when I'm with you...of course, there are times when I think about what could have been with him, but who doesn't sometimes have thoughts of other people? But when I'm with you, like ninety-five percent of the time you make me completely forget about him. I look at you and I see the woman that I love and I want to be with you."

"But what about when you're not with me?" she asked. "When you're alone and there's no one there to distract you. When you can be honest with yourself, Greg, am I really who you want?"

"I'm not going to change my mind, Lisa," he said solemnly. "I don't know what more I can do to convince you that our life together is something I don't want to lose."

"Even for him?" she asked, her voice filled with doubt.

He simply repeated, "I'm not changing my mind."