7.
After giving herself over completely to a crying jag, Cuddy had finally collected something of her scattered wits. While she gave vent to her emotions, she stubbornly ignored the calls from both her mother and sister as they repeatedly pounded on the bedroom door. But no matter how often she asserted she was alright, the knocking and calling continued at nearly two-minute intervals.
Cuddy finally got to her feet and made her way to the bathroom to fix her ruined makeup. As she stepped across the threshold, the latest barrage began again in earnest.
"Just give me five minutes! Just five more minutes!" Cuddy yelled as she stepped into the tiled room and closed the door to further muffle the sounds outside.
She had been looking down at her hands when she walked in, reluctant to see her own reflection. But Cuddy knew she could put off the inevitable for only so long.
When she finally did meet her own gaze reflected in the bathroom mirror, she gasped. Her visage had drastically changed from the perfect, photographer's ideal that had last been seen looking back at her minutes before her fateful confrontation with House.
House. Would she never be rid of the man? Or more importantly, would she ever rid herself of the feelings that she still carried for him?
Cuddy ran some water in the sink. She would have to start over entirely with her makeup. Her first step was to clear her face of the smeared eye shadow, dripping mascara and smudged lipstick.
She pressed the fingers of her right hand to her lips. They still burned. The heat from House's passionate kiss and her own, enthusiastic response was fresh in her memory.
Even if they hadn't shared one last, ardent yet fleeting moment, Cuddy would carry the memories of House's dazzling kisses and love making, like marks left from a red hot branding iron, forever imprinted upon her body, heart and even her soul.
No matter whom she shared her bed with currently or even if she was married to another, she would somehow, in her heart of hearts, always belong to House. Their pact had been sealed long ago, during their one night together in Michigan. The recent rekindling of their relationship had only served to further chain Cuddy's heart to him; with every touch of his hand, with every scorching kiss, every breathtaking climax, each cherished moment merely bound her to him more irrevocably with invisible, unbreakable fetters.
And today, at the very instant her lips touched his, her imagination had run wild signaling her body to follow suit, fervently responding to his kiss with the familiar, aching need mounting within ever fiber of her being. No one else but Gregory House could make her feel that way. No one else but House could fulfill her overwhelming desire.
Cuddy shook her head, trying to clear her mind of thoughts of him. But while her mind might be temporarily sidetracked, her body and heart were not so easily dissuaded.
With shaking hands, she tried as best she could to reapply her makeup and cover her now puffy, reddened eyes and blotchy complexion. This time she used the waterproof mascara her sister had brought. She knew when she first applied her mascara that there was little chance of her becoming emotional when she took her vows with Lucas. Now she was no longer sure.
She did not trust herself to keep from bursting into tears as she walked down the aisle and saw Lucas instead of House, waiting for her.
She shook her head again and began fluffing her hair. She was being stupid.
Surely the tempestuous relationship she had always shared with House was overrated? Certainly he was funny and spontaneous, witty, charming when he wanted to be, incredibly brilliant and, in his quiet moments when there was no one around to witness it, caring and sweet. House was also the best lover she'd ever had and that was really saying something as she'd known quite a few. But what was all of that compared with Lucas' enduring stability?
Lucas was safe. House, never would be so. He was mercurial, abrasive, arrogant and hell bent on always flying in the face of societal norms. House was the great unknown quantity. He would never be manageable, controllable.
Was that what she really wanted? Complete control in her personal relationships?
The eyes in her reflection widened considerably at the veracity of this abrupt, stray thought. Was that why she had finally chosen Lucas over House, because she would always be in charge of their relationship? Because everyone else considered him the sane choice for herself and her daughter?
She had been able, for a short time in the beginning of their relationship, to control House, or so she thought. He had been so in love with her and anxious to please that he had conceded to almost every whim and demand she had inflicted upon him.
But like a wild mustang, House, true to his character, eventually began to chafe against the restrictive harness she'd placed upon him. He'd broken free but did not gallop away. Instead, he turned back to her, swallowed his overriding fears, held out his hand and waited for her to come to him, as an equal.
And that was when she had slapped his hand away. Cuddy was too afraid to not be in control. For only by being in control could she plan for every eventuality. Only by flexing her superiority could she keep from getting hurt.
Yet here she was on what should be the happiest day of her life, desperately trying to keep from sobbing for the love of a man she herself had rejected. And because she was still hopelessly in love with, would perhaps always be in love with Gregory House.
Her thoughts turned to her feelings regarding her imminent husband. No. She did not love Lucas. But there was friendship there. And maybe one day it could grow into something more. But what kind of feelings could she entertain for a man she must always control? Could genuine love exist between master and slave?
Lucas loved her, of that she was sure. His love for her was what enslaved him to her. So wasn't it only a small concession that she would never have an equal partner, that more often than not, she would feel like she was raising two children instead of only one?
Lucas would gladly do whatever she told him to do. Cuddy would always be the captain of their relationship. It would be up to her to steer them all, herself, Lucas, her daughter into safe harbor.
Much better that than the uncertain storm, the vast, mysterious sea of emotion that would always be House.
There was a soft rap at her bedroom door.
"I said I'll be out in a minute mom!" Cuddy yelled.
"It's not your mother. It's Rabbi Beinstein. Can I speak with you?"
Cuddy hurried to open the door.
"Rabbi, I'm so sorry. I know I'm late. But I'm trying to finish getting ready . . ."
"That's alright. Don't worry. I've never had a bride that wasn't at least a little late to her own wedding; usually fixing her lipstick or some such last minute thing that only my wife could understand. May I come in?"
Cuddy stood back from the door and as the rabbi entered, closed it behind him.
"Truth be told Lisa," the rabbi continued, "Your mother asked me to come and talk with you."
At Cuddy's deep frown, he threw his hands up in a defensive gesture. "But don't worry! I'm just here to check on you. Your mother wanted to talk with you but you wouldn't let her in so I guess she decided to call in the cavalry. She didn't tell me much but the little she did say let me know that she's very worried about you."
"I'm fine. Really rabbi."
He tilted his head to the side, his liquid brown eyes searching her face. He held out his hands and when she placed her hands in his, he said, "Really? Because if I didn't know any better, I'd say you'd been crying."
"Oh God! I thought I fixed myself . . ."
"Don't upset yourself. I flatter myself that I am an astute observer of human nature. No one else will notice that you've been crying. Well, except your mother. You can't hide anything from a mother. Your mother especially."
He smiled. Cuddy smiled back.
"I'm fine rabbi. Thank you."
"Lisa, I don't know you well enough, being the rabbi for your mother's synagogue and not yours. Of course, I suspect you don't regularly attend temple?" He paused momentarily as if waiting for a response. When Cuddy began to stutter, he waved his hand and continued.
"Don't worry. I'm not here to try to guilt you into going to temple. But I am here to tell you that there's an awful lot of people outside who love you very much. Just make sure . . . very, very sure of what you want and what you're doing."
At this point, he gently squeezed her hands. His wiry beard tilted up as he tenderly smiled at her. "Lisa, just know that whatever you decide, whatever you do, the people who love you will go right on loving you. Because anyone who really and truly loves you will only want you to be happy. The people who love you know you deserve to be happy. Okay?"
Fat tears rolled down Cuddy's cheeks as House's last words echoed in her ears through the form of the rabbi's raspy voice. Too choked up to speak, she merely nodded her head. The rabbi leaned forward and kissed her on the cheek.
"What do you want me to tell everyone?" he said.
Her moment of decision rang through her like a clarion bell. Cuddy felt that she couldn't move, couldn't think, couldn't or wouldn't allow herself to feel.
"Just get everyone in their places," she said at last. "I'll be out in a few minutes."
The rabbi bent his head to try and catch her eye which, as she spoke, she had cast downward. His smile took on a melancholy expression.
"Lisa? Look at me."
Cuddy raised her blue-green eyes to his soft brown ones.
"Are you sure? This is a big step. Is this what you want?"
Cuddy mirrored the rabbi's sad smile with one of her own as House's words from long ago sounded in her head, "You can't always get what you want."
"No rabbi," she whispered. "But I can't have who . . . what I really want."
The rabbi tightened his hold on her small hands ever so slightly. "You're in love with someone else, aren't you?"
Cuddy, stripped of all other emotion except her wretchedness, merely nodded.
"Lisa, if you're in love with another man then you can't . . ."
"No rabbi, please! I've . . . we've been through all that. It's out of my hands. I've lost him. . . forever. And by my own doing. It's too late."
"Lisa, if there's one thing all these years of being a rabbi has taught me is that it's never too late, not while you have breath in your body. Don't give up hope. Go to this man. Tell him . . ."
"What? That I made a mistake? That I'm sorry I couldn't love him the way that he wanted? The way that he needed? The way he deserved? Then what? Can we erase all the mistakes of the past with a simple apology? How can he ever trust me again after he already gave me his heart for safekeeping and I consciously, mercilessly broke it into a million pieces?"
She turned sideways, unable to face the rabbi anymore. He let her hands slip from his grasp.
"No," she said. "This is the only way for me now. Lucas will give my daughter and me stability. This is all I can hope for, all I deserve."
"Lisa, please reconsider, please . . ."
"Rabbi, just have everyone get in their positions. I'll be out in another minute. Please do this, for me. Please."
The rabbi nodded solemnly. Then he gently took her small face in his warm hand and turned her chin toward him so that he could kiss her cheek once more.
"I'll get everyone ready," he said. "You get yourself ready. We'll be waiting."
Without another word, he sadly turned and left the room. Cuddy locked the door behind him before turning toward the bathroom to fix her tearstained, smudged makeup for a second time.