A/N: Thank you all so much for your kind messages and sticking with the story despite my infrequent updates, I'm beyond grateful.
Hope you'll enjoy chapter 9, your comments are always appreciated.
Chapter 9
They were getting careless.
Or, perhaps more accurately, he was getting careless - as if he wasn't treading on extremely thin ice as it was. He knew, logically, he knew that if he continued this current trend in his behaviour - that was stupid and reckless even by his own standards, Ophelia would start to suspect something was amiss. If she hasn't already. He knew all this and more but he simply couldn't help himself. Logic didn't seem to apply. He could not deny himself seeing her, touching her, being with her. Every single second spent in Morticia's company seemed to him glorious, wonderful and sacred. When he was with Morticia, his life appeared to him less and less like a gaping hole in his heart, he felt… hopeful, his days ceased being a string of a futile chase of absolution from his misdeeds and being a martyr for his sins, they no longer seemed bleak and hopeless. He had no time to feel hopeless because she filled his every thought, he was looking forward to another day when he would be able to see her again. He felt hopeful even though the whole situation was the most hopeless. It didn't matter, only she mattered.
He just loved spending time with her, and not merely the carnal aspect of it. He loved their teasing and their light banters, he loved the ease of a conversation between them. He loved how attuned they were to one another. It felt so wonderful that he often wondered if perhaps it was not real, perhaps he was imagining things. Perhaps he longed for her attention, her affections so desperately his mind simply conjured things out of nothing.
But it wasn't nothing. Far from it.
It was the little things she remembered about him, the fact that she seemed genuinely curious to know things about him - things he liked, his favourite wine, what books he read, why did he choose to study law, she even listened when he told her about his favourite models of trains, even though he was sure she found his obsession with trains a little bit insane. She asked about his family history, something she appeared wildly fascinated with. She noticed when he had a particularly frustrating day. He felt he could tell her anything and everything, she was a great listener. There was a connection between them that extended way beyond the carnal aspect of their affair. She was everything he longed for.
Everything her sister was not.
"Can you help me with the dress, please?" Her soft, velvet voice interrupted his musings.
Oh, and he loved her voice, he wished could listen to her talk for hours. He wished he could learn every single thing about her.
He was staring at her getting ready for the last twenty minutes, absolutely enticed with her little rituals - the way she curled her hair gently at the ends, the practised ease she put her make-up on and - his favourite - the way she put her red lipstick on, he couldn't even explain how much he loved that sinfully delicious, red lipstick.
He cleared his throat and came to stand behind her, admiring her reflection in the bathroom mirror, encased in the soft light that made her look like an enchantress, almost surreal in her beauty, her hair like liquid silk and her make-up immaculate. Hardly any sign that just half an hour ago they were in bed, devouring each other mindlessly - a mere thought of which was setting his blood aflame.
"This lipstick," he murmured, pushing the heavy curtain of her black, silk tresses over her shoulder, exposing the enticing marble of the skin of her back. " Makes my blood boil," he couldn't help but let out a low moan, at the back of his throat, before lowering his lips to the back of her neck, and then just below her ear and smiled when he was rewarded with a quiet moan of pleasure.
"The lipstick?" She repeated, tilting her head slightly to the side. "And here I thought it was me who made your blood boil."
"Always," he whispered passionately."I can never get enough of you, Tish. This lipstick is like a….mmmmm… a delightful appetizer."
"It's called Lillith," she said, closing the lipstick tube with a soft click and put it back in her purse. "The shade."
"An apt name," he murmured, placing a small kiss just below her jaw bone.
She smiled and curled her index finger under his chin, lifting his face to hers.
"You're going to be late home for dinner," she reprimanded gently."Again."
"I'm already late," he quipped, placing another kiss on her shoulder and wrapped his arms around her waist, pressing her against his body before turning his face towards hers again."Is it my fault that you're so irresistible?"
"Your reverent worship of my glorious form is humbly appreciated," she laughed gently, and couldn't quite resist placing a fleeting kiss on his lips."But if you keep getting home late, you will soon run out of excuses to offer."
"Why are you always so sensible?" He teased and watched her lips curl into a small smirk.
"If that was the case, I wouldn't be here," she retorted lightly, but felt him tense behind her, almost as if she just rebuked him. "Help me with the dress, please," she asked him again." I'm meeting a friend for drinks in forty minutes and I don't want to be late."
"I hope it's not my bloody cousin," he commented moodily but proceeded to zip up her dress.
She couldn't help but smile at his tone.
"Jealous, Gomez?" She asked, leaning closer to the mirror to wipe a bit of the lipstick from the corner of her lip with her ring finger.
"If you have to ask," he retorted, meeting her gaze in the reflection of the mirror.
"Would you rather I stopped seeing him?" She asked in a light tone as if amused by his reaction and he felt a familiar pang of annoyance.
He hated how jealous he felt of her. He hated the fact that this - her relationship with Vlad was never discussed between them, that he didn't know what was going on between them but he could not possibly ask his cousin and had no right to demand anything of her either, fidelity the last of things. He hated that Vlad was even in this equation.
"Does it matter what I prefer?" He retorted, almost petulantly.
She turned towards him, perching gently on the bathroom counter, her lips curled into a ghost of a smile
"Maybe," she replied silkily, her expression somewhere between sincere and openly teasing.
He held her gaze, pondering his reply. He wished there was anything he could say to her that wouldn't make him feel so vulnerable and pathetic.
"I hate seeing you with him," he finally said.
"Yes, I think we've already established that," she quipped, tilting her head ever so slightly to the right as if she was mocking him and he could barely suppress a wave of cool, defiant anger.
"It's not any of my business, though, is it," he retorted tartly, reaching into his breast pocket to retrieve his cigar. "You can see whomever you want to, my opinion doesn't matter here."
He barely had a chance to turn away from her when her voice reached him.
"What if it does?" She asked him and waited until he turned back towards her, locking her gaze with his." What if it does matter?"
He stared at her, taken aback by the question. This was another side of their affair, the murky side where neither of them really discussed. Neither of them seemed to know what the rules were outside of the realm of their passionate encounters. She knew he didn't like the fact that she was still seeing Vlad, he couldn't be more clear about it. What saying it out loud changed for them?
"What do you want me to say, Tish?" He retorted with a tired sigh.
She didn't reply, looking briefly away before drawing her lips in between her teeth in a hesitant manner.
"Nothing," she finally said, shaking her head gently. "Forget I said anything."
"You want me to ask you to stop seeing him?" He asked, taking a step closer to her.
"I'd stop seeing him and then what?" She challenged before adding sardonically."We'd live happily ever after?"
She watched his eyes darken, with anger or hurt, or perhaps with a mixture of both. She didn't know why they even started upon this subject in the first place, there was nothing to gain from it. She knew he was not happy with her seeing Vlad, it was more than obvious, she didn't know why she suddenly needed to hear him say it. She didn't know why she was goading him into confirming he was jealous of her. It didn't change anything between them. They were not here for happily ever after, they never were.
"Gomez," she said softly, her tone apologetic as she came over to him and curled her fingers behind his neck, placing a warm kiss on his lips."Let's not make this complicated."
He briefly considered telling her that it was a little too late for not making this complicated. It was complicated the moment he laid his eyes on her at the funeral. It just got more and more complicated from there.
"Will I see you tomorrow?" He asked instead and almost let out a sigh of relief when she nodded in confirmation.
"I need to go now," she whispered, placing another soft kiss on his lips."Debbie turns into a homicidal maniac when she has to wait too long."
He blinked, as if suddenly startled.
"Debbie?"
"Debbie," she confirmed, her lips curling into an amused smirk. "A friend whom I'm meeting for drinks tonight."
He closed his eyes and tilted his head, groaning in defeat.
"You will drive me insane one day," he sighed in mock exasperation before attacking her lips in a ferocious kiss.
"Gomez," she laughed gently and wrapped her arms around his neck."You will smudge my lipstick all over you."
"God, yes please," he groaned against her neck." I can think of a few places I want it smudged on - " he added cheekily and wasn't at all surprised when her palm connected with his arm in a none too gentle slap.
"Control yourself, you animal," she reprimanded half-heartedly but he only grinned at her.
"I'll try," he promised, wrapping his arms around her before claiming her lips in such a passionate, absurdly theatrical kiss, she couldn't help but laugh against his lips.
"You will make me very very late," she pointed out but could feel her defences crumble under his touch.
"I will make it worth it," he promised and grinned when she fisted her palms into the lapels of his suit jacket and all but dragged him towards the bed.
He felt so positively elevated that his mind didn't even bother conjuring any excuses to offer as to why he was late for dinner four days in a row. He would just apologise and say something about traffic or something. Although, ten o'clock at night was hardly a rush hour.
Oh, well...
"Well, there you are," his mother greeted him in an exasperated manner the moment he stepped through the door."We almost started without you."
"Sorry I'm late," he apologised, smiling at her."Let me quickly change and I'll join you."
"It's rather rude to keep our guests waiting for over an hour, don't you think?" His mother challenged, obviously vexed with his cavalier attitude.
"Guests?"He frowned in confusion."What guests?"
His mother looked at him in exasperation.
"Mr Goodwin and his wife," she reminded him."The people your father wants to buy the uranium mine from."
"Oh, damn it, I forgot about it," he winced.
"Clearly," she agreed coldly, watching him closely."What the hell is wrong with you lately? This is absolutely -"
"Make some excuses," he interjected, already almost halfway up the stairs."I'll be back in five minutes."
"Gomez," she called after him and waited until he turned back on the stairs to face her. She looked like she wanted to give him a piece of her mind but then immediately thought better of it and simply let out an exasperated huff. "Do hurry."
Eudora Addams stared after her son's disappearing form, simultaneously fuming with anger over his careless behaviour and unable to shake off the feeling of cold apprehension that suddenly seemed to fill her entire being.
That feeling that told her they were heading in a direction of an unspeakable disaster, and there was not an ounce of doubt in her mind, that this was their current trajectory because even in the deemed lights of the hall, it was really hard not to notice the red marks of a woman's lipstick on the pristine white of her son's collar.
And she had no idea what the hell she was going to do about that.
The more she thought about it, the less sense her recent behaviour made. It wasn't only careless, it was bordering on irrational.
No. Scratch that. It was irrational.
Why couldn't she stop thinking about him? It wasn't like her to lust after someone in such an obsessive, ferocious manner. She would ever describe herself as emotionless, far from it, but emotions never ruled her decisions. She knew where the limits were, she knew the difference between having a bit of reckless fun and stepping into something disastrous. And her affair with Gomez was just that - a mess, a disaster.
And yet, she was unable to say no. Even though there was no other option for them but to end it. She didn't understand why she was getting herself so involved with a man with whom she had no future to speak of.
Maybe. Maybe, if they've met before he was married. Maybe then. Possibly. And that was the worst part. To admit to herself that if their circumstances were different then this would be it. That Gomez Addams could well be the man she could see herself being with, in the long term. That perhaps he was the man she could fall in love with - and she hated herself for even admitting the possibility because what was the point. What was the point in indulging in what-ifs with something that was unreachable and unattainable, the very definition of impossible?
The very way they were handling this affair seemed disastrous and irrational to her. How many times did they steal a kiss in some secluded corner of her parents' mansion, where practically anyone could have walked in on them? It was a sheer miracle no one actually has. Yet.
Yet. Because it was just a matter of time.
Her Grandmother already suspected and if they were actually caught by any of the domestic staff, her Grandmother would know in a flash. She had no doubt that it was Mr Evans who gently suggested to Patricia to keep an eye on her and Gomez and she took to the task quite masterly. Although, her Grandmother never mentioned the subject again and Morticia didn't know whether she should be relieved or worried. Not that she was eager to discuss it again.
"September 1944, if you could only see him," Patricia remarked wistfully, cutting her scone in half before putting a generous helping of clotted cream on it.
Her Grandmother called her at seven o'clock in the morning, waking her up no less, because seven in the morning was never Morticia's favourite time to start the day, to invite her for a late breakfast, claiming she had something important to discuss with her and Morticia had an immediate, ridiculous but almost overwhelming urge to book herself a ticket to as far as Bhutan and run away from whatever her Patricia Frump was so eager to discuss with her.
But that would be ludicrous.
Hence, here they were, at 8:45 in the morning, in a cafe just a few blocks away from Morticia's apartment, sharing a 'late' breakfast. How any hour before midday was even remotely late for breakfast was beyond Morticia's comprehension. So far, however, Granny kept the conversation light and unburdened, and the subject of Gomez Addams was mentioned only once concerning her praising Gomez's business skills in taking over the day-to-day running of Frump's family business to which Morticia replied, very eloquently, - "hmmm." Her English tutor would be proud.
She was, however, very, very eager to keep Gomez out of this conversation at all and she was extremely glad when her Grandmother switched to telling her stories of when she worked as a war correspondent in Italy.
And of course, they involved love affairs.
"He was so handsome in his military uniform," Patricia continued, dipping the spoon into a raspberry jam. "He was on leave after being wounded at Monte Cassino but let me tell you that that didn't stop him."
Morticia shook her head and smiled at her over the top of her teacup.
"We haven't left that apartment for a week, I swear," Patricia said, biting into her scone."Best sex I ever had. At that time, that is."
"So what happened to him?" Morticia asked, taking a dainty sip of her tea.
"Why," her Grandmother smiled smugly."I married him, of course."
"Granny," she reprimanded in a half-hearted outrage, making a face as she put down her teacup with a loud clink."Why didn't you tell me you were talking about Grandfather? Have some respect for my tender sensibilities."
"I would have if you had any," Patricia snorted." It's a beautiful love story," she insisted before sighing dramatically."If he didn't turn up to be such a pretentious buffon later, that is, but oh well, there's a lesson in it, after all."
"What lesson is that?" Morticia smiled at her.
"Do not accept marriage proposals in a post-coital bliss," her Grandmother announced in a deadpan manner." And I was very young as well, twenty-three, and I thought amazing sex is a great prelude to marriage."
"Do you regret marrying him?" She asked, trying to keep her voice as neutral as possible.
"No," Patricia replied after a while."But intense passion is not an ideal state to make decisions that will impact your whole life."
Morticia didn't know what was worse, being told outright that she suspected she was having an affair with Gomez or these gentle insinuations that made Morticia feel more and more insecure and almost paranoid. There was no way of telling if Patricia Frump really knew what was going on or bluffed her way through.
What did it matter, though? Her suspicions were just as bad.
"Yes," Morticia agreed."That seems like an extremely bad idea."
Her Grandmother's lips stretched into a soft smile before her eyes were illuminated with a mischievous spark.
"Oh, speaking of extremely bad ideas," Patricia started and paused, opening her purse and taking out the wire-bound stack of papers, handing it to Morticia over the table.
"What's this?" Morticia asked, accepting the thick stack of papers.
"A manuscript of my book," her Grandmother announced.
"A what?"
"A book," Patricia repeated, sipping slowly on her coffee.
"You wrote a book?" Morticia asked in surprise, already turning a few pages.
Patricia nodded proudly.
"The girls at my poetry club loved it," she said."They think I should publish it."
"Granny, that's so exciting," Morticia said, flipping through the book." You haven't said a thing. This is…," she frowned, stopping amid the manuscript and her eyes widened in surprise." What…ehm," she cleared her throat gently. "What book exactly is this?"
"Well," Patricia Frump leaned back in her chair before her lips curled into a blatant smirk."At the poetry club, we call it porn with a plot."
Morticia bit her lips into a thin line and closed her eyes, pressing her thumb and forefinger between her eyes.
"My mind can barely process this situation," she whispered out loud before looking back at her Grandmother with a half-amused, half-exasperated manner.
"You need to read it and tell me what you think of it," Patricia insisted, picking another scone from the basket."You may make notes on the margins and for any lessons, you find in there for yourself - you're welcome."
"How can you be so smart, yet so inappropriate?"
"It comes with age," the older lady replied flippantly.
"I can't believe that Papa thought it was appropriate for you to raise his child," Morticia teased."I wouldn't allow you to raise my pet piranhas, you shrew."
"How dare you?" Patricia scoffed in a mock offence."I'm an excellent role model and you know it."
There were times in his life when Gomez Addams would describe the atmosphere in the Addams Mansion as heavy. Well, frankly speaking, since the Amore Twin debacle it was often heavy-loaded, with guilt and accusations and unresolved emotions. There seemed to be this constant tension in the air, particularly when it came to his relationship with his father. There was this ever-present expectation that the Colonel would make some biting comment, or bring back something Gomez did in the past, it was emotionally exhausting - to the point when Gomez truly considered moving out of his family home. Except, he knew he didn't have any right to make this cross he bore lighter by moving out, because he brought it upon himself - upon all of them, and for the last couple of years, he tried very hard to prove to everyone that he was better than the pathetic, insecure creature that betrayed his brother.
Only to prove to himself that he was even worse.
He was cheating on his wife and didn't even have the decency to feel guilty about it.
Well, that was not exactly the truth, he felt guilty about it. Cheating didn't make him feel good, it was her that made him feel good, being with Morticia felt good and after so many years of being miserable, the happiness he felt with her felt addicting. But it was happiness created from someone's misery.
"Gomez," Ophelia said in a slow measured tone, and waited until he lowered his morning newspaper to look at her."You were late for dinner last night."
She was basically stating the obvious and he didn't know what to make of that.
"Yes, I know, I apologised," he retorted, and couldn't quite keep the defensive note from his voice.
"You were late four days in a row," she pointed out, snapping her breakfast biscuit in half.
"Do you want me to apologise again?" He asked tartly and watch her jaw set in annoyance.
"Where have you been last night?" She asked outright.
"At work," he replied, folding his morning newspaper neatly on the table. His lips felt suddenly dry, so he reached for his coffee cup and took a small sip.
"I called your office, they said you left at four."
"I didn't say I was at the office," he retorted, keeping his voice leveled, although the conversation made him instantly anxious."I said I was at work. I had few meetings in the city."
"Really?" She remarked doubtfully, sceptically raising her eyebrow." With whom?"
He tilted his head and regarded her intently as if pondering where she was going with it. Even though he knew perfectly well where she was going with it and who could blame her? He was asking for this to happen all week but being faced with her outright suspicion was suddenly unsettling and he didn't know what to do with himself.
"Do I sense an accusation here?" He asked in such an offended tone he almost believed himself it was genuine. And maybe it was. He felt offended she dared to call him out on his despicable behaviour.
Turn the blind eye, God damn it, pretend everything is as it should be. Pretend you're happy. Pretend your husband is not being a cheating bastard.
"I know you were not at the office and I know you were not at the club," she pointed out, jabbing her manicured finger into the kitchen table.
"What on earth is that, Ophelia?" He retorted sharply."Are we supposed to spy on each other now?"
"Don't give me this attitude," she replied in an equal manner."You're coming home late almost every day of the week with some lame excuses about work and you expect me to believe that? Do you really think I'm an idiot? What the hell is going on, Gomez?"
He felt cornered by her accusations but to his credit, he matched her glare with his own. He shook his head in disbelief as if completely shocked by her words, biting his lips into a thin line.
"I was late because I was arranging for a weekend getaway for the two of us," he lied, his brain supplying the lies so fast, he was almost impressed with himself.
"What?" She asked, clearly taken aback.
"I wanted it to be a surprise," he continued, putting a hurtful tone to his voice." I didn't want my secretary to do it because I wanted it to be special."
What a bastard he was.
He reached to his breast pocket and took out a long slim, black velvet box.
"It's for you," he lied again, pushing the box towards her. "I wanted to give it to you on our weekend away. I know I was very busy these past few weeks and you feel neglected so I wanted to arrange this for us," he explained."I certainly didn't expect you to think I was cheating on you."
Ophelia took the jewellery box and opened it carefully.
He preferred not to think about the fact that he was giving his own wife jewellery meant for another woman. How insulting and humiliating it was, if she only knew. It was beyond humiliating and Ophelia didn't deserve it.
"It's beautiful," she whispered, taking the white diamond vine necklace in between her fingers. She met his gaze and chuckled mirthlessly. "God, I'm so sorry, I thought… I don't know...you must think I'm some paranoid nutter."
"Well, I feel there's a bit of my fault in it as well," he remarked honestly.
She licked her lips, smiling at him softly.
"I appreciate the gentleman's response. I'm sorry, honey…let's just forget about it," she laughed, a little breathlessly."I really don't want to be one of those annoying, paranoid wives, I don't know what devil came over me."
"I am at fault," he said gently. And honestly. "I'm sorry as well."
Perhaps the only honest thing he said to her this whole week.
Truth be told, he used to despise this office. Truly. He hated everything here, from the soft beige carpet to the high windows that made it almost unbearably sunny here during the summer months. But the office used to belong to his Grandfather and he found it hard to part with it because Gomez Addams absolutely adored the old Addams. And the office reminded him of all the time he spent here with his Grandfather, learning the business, and he hated the decor even then, as a young lad.
That being said, he learnt to appreciate it, especially since he got married, Ophelia moved into Addams Mansion and suddenly his trains were too loud, throwing daggers was apparently absurd and too dangerous and blowing up things was out of the question.
And so, he made Lurch bring his train set to the office, and he's yet to finish setting it up since he was… well, otherwise occupied.
Otherwise, delightfully occupied.
"Got a minute?"
"For you? Never," Gomez replied in a deadpan manner without lifting his head from the mountain of paperwork before him." And if you came here to tell me you're bored and I'm neglecting you let me just dispose of you straight away."
"Awww, is Mrs Addams giving you a hard time?" Vlad cooed sarcastically, pulling the leather chair in front of Gomez's desk. "I need some advice."
Gomez looked up, regarding his cousin with a wry smile.
"No, this tie really does not go well with this shirt," he remarked smoothly before returning his attention to the paperwork before him.
"Ha ha, funny, you should be a comedian," Vlad remarked sarcastically."I'm serious, old man, I need advice."
Gomez let out an exaggerated sigh and leaned back on his chair.
"If it's about those stocks you bought," he remarked, putting his pen away neatly next to the contract he was reviewing."I've told you already you're putting your money down the drain."
"It's not about the stocks," Vlad assured, waving his hand carelessly."And please don't remind me of those."
"What is it about, then?" Gomez asked, raising his eyebrows expectantly and watched his cousin take a deep breath.
"So, you know how I have been sort of seeing Morticia these past few weeks?" He started and paused, waiting for Gomez to react.
Gomez nodded but resisted the almost overwhelming urge to wince and roll his eyes at the same time. God he almost violently didn't want to discuss it. But then he had to admit that he could not pass on the opportunity to find out what exactly was going on between his cousin and Morticia because the topic didn't exist between them. Except for a brief conversation a few days ago which led to nothing anyway, he didn't know any more now than he did before and was as uncertain as he ever was.
"You need some dating tips?" He asked drily.
"So to speak," Vlad tilted his head back, leaning heavily on the chair."Look, I need some advice. I'm so fucking confused, I don't know what to do with myself, old chum."
"Confused?"
"You know that night after Bar's funeral," he reminded him and waited for Gomez to nod." We've spent the night together, and then she just… she, " he paused, letting out a frustrated sigh." She... fucking sneaked out of the room and practically ignored me for two whole weeks - this isn't funny Gomez."
"It's not," Gomez agreed, trying to keep a straight face but also delighted with the news."It's tragic"
"So, long story short," Vlad continued." She said she just ended the relationship with someone in Europe - fair enough, we agreed to take it slow, you know get to know each other better and all that nonsense. And that night after the race, we kissed and she was so… I thought we're getting somewhere, okay?"
"And then?" Gomez prompted, curiosity getting better of him.
"And then out of a sudden she barely speaks to me all week," he said, his tone exasperated." I don't understand where we stand. I asked her if she was seeing anyone else and she said no. Amazing. We went out for dinner and saw some weird art exhibition that I don't even care about and then - suddenly, another radio silence for a week. What the hell? Do you think she's seeing anyone else?"
"How would I know that?" Gomez asked calmly."I see that woman once a week at my in-laws and she barely speaks to me then anyway."
How easy those lies formed on his lips lately. Although, the part of Morticia barely speaking to him when they were in the company was actually true.
"Gomez, I feel like she's some divine punishment for all those years of fucking around," he said in an exasperated tone, rubbing the tip of his fingers against his temples."This is the kind of behaviour men engage in, not… fuck, I'm not used to chasing women like that."
"Well, you said you craved a challenge," Gomez snickered. This day was getting better and better with every passing minute.
"I take it back," his cousin retorted."She's going to drive me insane. I mean how fucking slow can we actually take it?"
"Why don't you speak to her about it?" He pointed out.
"I did!"
"And?"
Vlad chewed on his bottom lip for a while before leaning forward towards Gomez.
"I know what she's doing," he told him."I get it, she's playing hard to get, but what the fuck is she waiting for me to do? Propose to her?"
"That would be the day," Gomez snorted."I don't think that woman is after marrying anyone."
Vlad rolled his eyes at him.
"Gomez, sometimes you're naïve like a baby vulture."
"The doors are behind you," Gomez retorted in a deadpan manner, casually returning to his paperwork.
"Of course, she wants to get married," Vlad continued, ignoring his words."What else is there for her to do?"
"That," Gomez remarked, pointing his index finger at him."Is a really obnoxious thing to say."
"Oh, fuck off," Vlad snorted."You know I'm right. It's a natural progression - rich daddy, private tutors, a few years of fooling around, marriage, kids, and then we die."
"Maybe she just doesn't like you," Gomez replied meanly.
"She likes me," Vlad insisted."Why wouldn't she? I'm rich and handsome, and I indulge her screwing around with my head. "
"Charming," Gomez commented drily. "Don't know why you bother, old chap. It seems more hassle than it's worth."
Vlad didn't reply, staring absently into the view of Manhattan skyscrapers behind Gomez's office window.
"I like her," he finally said, resting his gaze on Gomez." She's not a cookie-cutter character. She's… unique, different, I like that."
There was a knock on the door and they both directed their gaze to the door where the plump, middle-aged, kind-looking woman with short, permed blonde hair was standing with a bag from Tiffany's.
"I'm sorry to interrupt," she said, removing the jewellery box from the bag. " But you've asked to let you know when they'd deliver your order," she smiled charmingly, opening the box, revealing a pair of black diamond earrings. "Mrs Addams will love them, I'm sure."
"Thank you, Mrs Callaghan," he smiled and promptly snapped the jewellery box closed before his cousin could take a good look at the content."Come, old chap, let's have a drink. You certainly look like you need one."
"Truest words," Vlad admitted, already getting off his chair.
He waited until Gomez's secretary left the room before turning towards his cousin.
"Why don't you employ someone young and hot?" He asked in an offended whisper."Mrs Callaghan must be at least a hundred and fifty years old."
"She doesn't need to be young and hot," Gomez retorted, rolling his eyes as he put his coat on and reached for his cigar."She needs to do her job which she does extremely well and she saved my sorry ass more times than I could count."
Vlad winced, stealing one of the cigars from Gomez's pocket.
"I barely recognize you these days, cousin," he remarked in a mock distaste."Marriage ruined you."
Ophelia Addams felt restless.
Or at least that's how she chose to name the feeling. She felt restless and annoyed. She hated the fact that she had made such a fool of herself in front of Gomez, almost outright accusing him of infidelity. Now he probably thought she was some jealous, paranoid bitch. It was so embarrassing.
Not to mention that it increasingly occurred to her that this is not how she imagined being Mrs Addams would look like. True, she had all the money in the world, she could buy anything and everything her heart desired and it felt wonderful. Gomez didn't even set her a budget when it came to buying their home, she could choose whatever mansion she wanted and he was willing to cover any expenses. It was all a dream come true.
And yet, it wasn't enough. She felt… bored. Her days felt so similar to one another that she had trouble telling whether it was Monday or Thursday, it all looked the same - wake up, shower, change, breakfast with her husband, then gym, then shopping, property viewings - mostly with her friends because Gomez never had a time, ladies club, home, dinner, sleep, repeat. Saturday she and Gomez went for dinners or dancing and Sunday was always spent at her parents'. Oh, and once a week she had those ridiculous charity meetings where the most exciting thing that was discussed was the charity bake-off next Sunday.
Ophelia was bored out of her mind. Thank God the Christmas party season was going to start soon, they've already got the invitations so at least she'd have some fun this coming December.
Was this really what being married to a millionaire looked like, though? With her husband spending an ungodly amount of time at work, barely paying her any attention? According to Holly, it was normal. Holly saw Gerald in the evenings, and they went out once or twice a week for dinner - Wednesdays and Saturdays. Sundays were family days. Both of her friends told her to stop acting paranoid about Gomez working long hours and stop pestering him, at least until they had children.
Children.
At the rate things were going the only thing she could conceive a child was by a miracle conception. That was another thing, she and Gomez used to have sex almost on daily basis, now they were down to once or twice a week. If his ridiculous work schedule would continue after the New Year she would really get pissed, her patience was really limited.
She was young and beautiful, she sweated her ass three times a week at the gym, she played tennis once a week. She turned heads. She was charming and sophisticated, she deserved all the best things in life.
And yet, she was part of an imaginable fortune and yet she lived in an old dump of a mansion that looked like a health and safety hazard with a retarded zombie butler, an annoying pest that was that decapitated hand and a mother-in-law who apparently thought of herself a witch. Although thank God, her mother-in-law kept mostly herself, doing….ugh, fuck knows what she was doing in that kitchen. She didn't care, she was tired of being surrounded by freaks. The whole clan was so fucking odd, sometimes she felt like she joined the circus.
Everything was grating on her nerves lately, their outdated fashion, their morbid sense of humour and, most of all, the fact that they didn't seem to care that everyone around them thought they were a bunch of kooks. They didn't give a damn, they all lived in their little bubbles of insanity.
It felt like living with Morticia all over again.
The most beautiful thing that happened to this family was when Morticia decided to move to Europe. Oh good lord, what a glorious time that was. It felt so… normal. No one asked why her sister was so pale, why was she wearing black all the time, why was she so weird.
And her sister too didn't care. Just like the Addamses. She didn't care about what an utter embarrassment she was to Ophelia. Truth be told, annoying as her decision not to attend Ophelia's wedding was, because of course people talked, it was also a relief. In Ophelia's opinion, everyone was happier when Morticia lived in Europe, even her parents argued less.
Ophelia touched her diamond necklace on her neck with the tips of her manicured fingers, resting her gaze on her sister, who was sitting next to their Grandmother, as usual, she finally decided to join them for a Sunday lunch at her parents. Which was a pity because every time she was here, her husband acted like he couldn't wait to leave. Not that she blamed him, Morticia was so damn infuriating, no wonder Gomez couldn't stand her.
"Tishy," Ophelia said sweetly, smiling at her sister when she turned towards her." You haven't said anything about my new necklace," she chastised in a light, facetious tone."Don't you think it's stunning?"
Morticia resisted an urge to roll her eyes to the high heavens and obediently rested her gaze on the diamond piece of jewellery on her sister's neck.
"Look at it, isn't it amazing?" Ophelia prodded, tilting her head to provide a better view of her necklace.
"It's very beautiful," Morticia agreed before adding with a small smile."I didn't know it was new. You get so many of them it's hard to keep count, " she had to admit the necklace was simply stunning.
"That's so true, Gomez loves to spoil me. Eighteen carats," Ophelia confirmed, pushing her long blond hair over her shoulder."Holly checked at Tiffany's, it cost a hundred and forty-six thousand dollars. Can you believe it?"
"It's stunning," Patricia Frump nodded."Gomez has an excellent taste."
"He's just so sweet," Ophelia smiled."He loves spoiling me. Did I mention that he actually arranged a romantic weekend at the skiing resort in Aspen? I won't even ask how much that cost him this time of the year," she continued, letting out a short chuckle.
Morticia felt her body tense involuntarily. She completely didn't know what to make of this news other than it made her feel uncomfortable.
"Oh, I love Aspen," her Grandmother remarked appreciatively."Of course, with my hip, skiing is out of the question."
Ophelia pursed her lips into a little sympathetic pout, following it with an exaggerated 'awwww'.
"Well, you can still enjoy all the social aspects," Ophelia pointed out, smiling at Patricia as she leaned comfortably and rested her elbow against the back of the sofa."You know… just relaxing in the jacuzzi at the lodge, drinking fine beverages - oh my God," she suddenly exclaimed."I should ask Gomez to buy a mansion there, how splendid would that be. Just a little holiday home, maybe six bedrooms?"
"Take it easy, my dear," Patricia supplied, raising her eyebrow in amusement ."You've been married for less than a year. No need to immediately reveal how expensive your upkeep is going to be."
Ophelia only rolled her eyes and giggled quietly, twirling her long hair around her index finger.
"Gomez doesn't mind," she grinned happily. "Oh, there you are, darling," she exclaimed the moment Gomez entered the room, followed by both of her parents." I was just telling Morticia of our amazing weekend in Aspen."
Morticia was very sure Gomez Addams just turned a few shades paler and he tried to avoid her gaze when he sat next to his wife.
"Oh, Gomez, don't you just love to spoil your wife," her mother interjected, handing Gomez a glass of brandy."Weekend in Aspen sounds dreamy, don't you think, Morticia?"
Morticia turned towards her mother and smiled at her.
"I'm afraid cold, snow and skiing resorts are really not my thing," she replied smoothly, trying very hard to keep the sarcasm out of her tone."But I'm sure they will have a lovely time."
"Gomez loves to indulge me, don't you darling?" Ophelia cooed, placing a soft kiss on Gomez's cheek.
"Anything for my beautiful wife," Gomez smiled, lifting her hand to his lips and placed a quick kiss on the back of her hand.
Morticia had to almost physically restrain herself not to roll her eyes, or glare at Gomez, she couldn't decide which. As if this Sunday afternoon wasn't excruciatingly slow enough, she really could do without watching Gomez playing an attentive husband.
Not that she was jealous, she told herself. It was simply irritating.
"You're such a charmer," Ophelia smiled at him.
Morticia was two steps way of conjuring any feeble excuse that would get her out of the door, so she wouldn't have to endure this absurd a moment longer when her mother suddenly let out the most ridiculous sound - somewhere between a squeal and a purr and everyone turned towards Mrs Frump with a bewildered look.
"Oh there it is, my little baby," her mother cooed in the direction of the entrance where a little corgi puppy made its way towards her.
Morticia made a face and immediately lifted her legs off the floor, folding them under her as the puppy approached the sofa where she was sitting.
"What on earth is that?" She asked.
"It's a corgi, I adopted it last week," her mother informed her."Isn't he cute?
"No," Morticia shook her head."It's small and fluffy - why is it staring at me, tell him to go away…"
"Awww, Tishy, surely you're not scared of that little ball of fluff?" Ophelia teased. "Miffy had little pups two months ago, so I bought mother one of the pups. Isn't he sweet?"
"Who's Miffy?"
"One of Holly's mother's corgis," Ophelia explained, still clinging to Gomez's arm."She has like five of them, like the English Queen. They are very popular dogs, everyone adopts them."
"Why would you adopt such a thing?" Morticia asked, completely bewildered."Don't you know that all he will grow up to be is a dog? Why didn't you get a komodo dragon, or an octopus, those are excellent pets."
"For you maybe," Ophelia rolled her eye, before adding snidely."Normal people prefer normal pets and hence the corgi."
Morticia frowned, glaring at the little, fluffy pet that was trying very hard to climb on the sofa next to her, away but the puppy only barked at her happily, waving his tail.
"Someone please take this thing away from me," she complained when the animal tried to lick her hand.
"He just wants you to pat him," her mother rolled her eyes before coming over and scooping the little pup into her arms."He's like my baby. Look at him, isn't he adorable? I could just eat him alive!"
"Oh no, he's way too young," Gomez interjected, laughing heartily at the idea and suddenly every single gaze was directed at him, and they all seemed taken aback by his comment.
Except Morticia, who was biting her lips, obviously trying very hard not to laugh.
"Honey, mother was joking," Ophelia explained."Of course, she's not planning to eat it."
"Well, I hope so, because what a waste of time cooking him would be," he pointed out. "There's hardly any meat on him."
She told herself the feeling wasn't jealousy and certainly, most certainly, there was some perfectly logical explanation to this whole idea of a weekend in Aspen, she just didn't know what it was. It definitely wasn't Gomez wanting to spend a romantic weekend with his wife, that was just out of the question. Nevertheless, it made her uncomfortable.
She didn't like to be reminded that he had a wife, as ridiculous as it sounded, she didn't want to think about what Gomez was doing when they were not together, that he spent time with Ophelia, doing what married couples did. She didn't like watching them together, she hated how attentive Gomez seemed to her. His behaviour didn't fit with her idea of what a man who was cheating on his wife would behave like, although, come to think of it, she didn't know what she expected him to behave like either.
It wasn't necessarily wrong of him to be attentive and kind to Ophelia, it didn't change anything between them, so she didn't know why it made her feel so uncomfortable.
She wasn't jealous, she refused to even consider it, because she didn't have any right to be jealous of him.
She didn't have time to ponder upon the issue any further, because Debbie Jellinsky decided to barge into her room without the slightest courtesy of knocking. Morticia raised her eyebrow in a mild bemusement when Debbie, already dressed in her pyjamas and huge fluffy, pink robe - despite it being barely six o'clock in the evening, flopped on Morticia's bed and rested heavily against the headboard - a huge box of chocolates on her hands.
"Are you alright?" Morticia asked, replacing the kohl applicator in a small, ornamental flask and put it away on her dressing table where she was currently sitting, getting ready." You look very grim," she noticed.
Debbie shrugged, popping one of the chocolates into her mouth.
"Why don't you use an eyeliner? It's way quicker," Debbie said instead, pointing her head at the small bottle on the table.
"Powdered kohl doesn't smudge," Morticia explained, reaching for her hairbrush and brushed gently through her dark tresses."I can go to sleep with it and it will barely be out of place in the morning."
"Hmmm, maybe I should try it then," Debbie muttered."Nothing worse than waking up with racoon eyes after one night stand."
"Debbie - "
"Hmmm?"
"What's with the grim face?" Morticia asked, turning towards her friend.
"My life is grim," Debbie replied forlornly, sighing deeply.
"But that's a good thing," Morticia insisted as she turned and reached for her lipstick, Gomez's favourite shade.
"It's not, I'm just hopeless."
"You're anything but," Morticia countered."Why would you even say such a thing?"
"I feel like… I don't know, like I'm not going anywhere with my life," she said, curling into a fetal position, hugging the box of chocolate to her chest. "From one dead husband to another and what do I have for all my hard work? Nothing."
"Being a widow at such a young age is always an experience worth having," Morticia remarked proudly.
"I just don't know what am I doing wrong," Debbie complained pitifully and Morticia gave her a comforting look."Okay so I killed, and I maimed. So I destroyed one innocent life after another. Aren't I a human being? Don't I yearn, and ache and...shop? Don't I deserve love and… jewellery?"
"Of course you do," Morticia readily agreed."You deserve all that and more."
"Then why can't I find the right guy?" She complained."I'm just a despicable human being, they all hate me."
"They wouldn't have married you if they hated you," Morticia pointed out.
"You know what I want?"
"A filthy rich husband," Morticia replied without missing a beat.
"That's my baseline for happiness, yes," Debbie nodded."But you know what else?"
"Prada to have proper sales."
Debbie nodded.
"Twenty per cent is not a sale," she insisted." If it's not at least forty per cent off, it's not on sale."
Morticia finished applying the lipstick and turned back to Debbie.
"Things are not going as planned with the surgeon?" She guessed.
"Not exactly," Debbie admitted."He won't stop talking about his dead wife."
"That's so sweet."
"Annoying as hell," Debbie rolled her eyes."I mean I wear dresses with a neckline almost at my navel and he's all oh my Janet loved art, or - oh Debbie, you have such a lovely smile - it reminds me of Janet, she had such a wonderful smile, ughhhhhh," she mimicked and then tilted her head and groaned again in exasperation."I think I'm gonna give up on this one, he's not worth the hassle, I can't stand hearing another word about fucking Janet. I just - "
"What?" Morticia prompted when Debbie stayed silent for a while.
"I just wish someone loved me the way he loved fucking Janet," she admitted.
"You will find someone like that," Morticia assured."A man who will dedicate his life to your happiness alone. Who will be too in love with you and too terrified of your murderous tendencies to ever say no to you."
"You're the best friend a killer can have," Debbie replied, deeply touched by her words and smiled when Morticia blew her a kiss."Look at us," Debbie sighed."You're out every night and I'm becoming a hermit - the world went bunkers."
Morticia only laughed gently, bending downs to slip her black stilettos on.
"Where are you off every single night, anyway?" Debbie asked pointedly.
"It's not every single night," Morticia smiled, reaching for the bottle of perfumes and applied it on her wrist before rubbing it on her inner elbow but she could practically feel Debbie's suspicious gaze on her.
"Are you seeing someone?" Debbie asked, swinging her legs off the bed as she sat down, putting the chocolates away."And I'm not talking about that pathetic specimen who can't take the hint that you're simply not that into him… at all."
"Maybe," Morticia replied vaguely as she inspected her make-up in the mirror one last time, ignoring the fact that Debbie was drilling her suspicious gaze into her skull.
"Okay, so first you're depressively quiet and barely go out of the apartment," Debbie pointed out." You took up knitting and now you're suddenly out every night and are yet to tell me who you're seeing - can you see why am I suspicious?"
"Yes," Morticia replied smoothly and commended herself for looking Debbie in the eye because she has an almost violent urge to leave the room.
"Are you in any sort of trouble?" Her friend asked, concerned.
"Not yet," she supplied lightly.
"Okay, can you tell me where you're going and who you're seeing so that in case you end up dead in a street corner at least I know who to chase for revenge?"
"Awww, you're so sweet," Morticia smiled, amused by her words."But no need to fear for my life."
Debbie's frown only seemed to deepen.
"Tish, what's going on?" She demanded.
"Nothing."
"Who are you seeing and why are you so fucking secretive about it?"
"I'm not secretive," Morticia insisted, trying not to sound irritated."I'm being private about my private life, it's not a crime, is it?"
"Just tell me, what's the big deal, it's not like you're fucking your sister's husband - "
Morticia felt her whole body stiff involuntarily but, to her credit, she barely flinched when Debbie turned her face towards her.
"Oh. My. God."
Well, this was going very well.
"Are you insane?"
A month into their affair.
"This is what this whole thing is about? For the love of - no wonder you were so secretive!" Debbie remarked in mirthless disbelief."Tish, are you out of your damn mind?"
"Is there a right answer to that?"
"Do you realize Princess Daisy will rip you into shreds when she finds out?"
"No one is going to find out," Morticia replied, her tone a cautious whisper as if she was afraid someone might overhear, even though there were only two of them in the entire apartment.
"Well, I just did," Debbie pointed out."Tish… this is such a bad idea."
"I know that," Morticia replied lightly but bit her lips a little apprehensive before turning to her friend."Debbie, I know what I'm doing."
"No," Debbie shook her head vehemently." I don't fucking think so. This is sooo bad Tish."
"I know that as well," Morticia replied in a mild annoyance." It's my very own business how I choose to live my life and I don't need a castigation - "
"What the fuck is going on here, Tish?" Debbie interrupted angrily."This is not like you. You don't go after married men."
"I don't go after anyone," Morticia replied frostily.
"Exactly!" She pointed out.
Morticia bit her lips into a thin line, quite unsure what to do with herself and her only instinct was that of self - preservation. She didn't want to answer questions nor was she in the mood for Debbies accusations.
"I'm very disinterested in pursuing this conversation any further," Morticia remarked finally, making her way out of the room.
"Why are you getting upset?" Debbie asked, following her to the kitchen.
"I'm not upset," Morticia insisted firmly, grabbing the house keys from the kitchen counter and depositing them in her purse.
"You coulda've fooled me," Debbie retorted sharply."Can we at least talk about it?"
"I think it's very much my own business who I'm seeing," she replied sharply, abruptly closing her purse." I don't interfere with your affairs and I'd appreciate it if you'd do the same."
Debbie closed her eyes and took a deep, calming breath.
"Okay, look," she said, forcing a calm, gentle tone to her voice - it only partially worked." I'm just worried about you, this is all very unlike you….fuck…," she paused, letting out an exasperated sigh."This is a very moth to a flame situation and you're the one getting burnt, how can you not see it?"
"Thank you for your concern but I really haven't asked for your opinion," Morticia replied frostily, her jaw clenched in annoyance as she made her way towards the door, tempted to slam the doors on her way out, leaving her bewildered friend behind.
She opened the door and faltered, biting gently on her bottom lip and sighed, finally turning towards her stunned-looking Debbie Jellinsky.
"I'm sorry," she said, her tone openly apologetic."We will talk when I come back, alright?"
"Okay," Debbie replied dully.
She watched Morticia leave the apartment and felt she should do something. Anything that would prevent her friend from getting into this disaster but she felt helpless. She was so taken aback by the fact that Morticia could involve herself in a situation that was so ridiculously stupid she momentarily didn't know what to do.
There had to be something she could do. There had to be a way to reason with her.
Or.
Or she could just rip Gomez fucking Addams into shreds.
It was somewhat a relief that when she entered the hotel room, he was not there yet and she had some time to collect her thoughts - that were jumbled chaos of anger and panic since she left her apartment.
She dropped the room keys on the coffee table and unfastened her cloak, dropping it over the back of the sofa as she walked slowly towards the window, casting a brief look over the snow-covered trees in the park outside. She wasn't worried about Debbie telling anyone, that was out of the question but she felt shaken. If Debbie found out so soon, it was just a matter of time for someone else to put two and two together. And what then?
God, what a mess. She'd need to tell Gomez about Debbie.
She felt at a loss of what to do and she felt immediately angry because she knew there was only one logical step for them to proceed with. She was angry and had nowhere to direct her anger at except herself.
Almost on a cue, she heard the door open and half-turned towards the sound, waiting for Gomez to enter the room and close the door behind him.
"All packed for your romantic weekend in Aspen?" She asked in a dry tone, even though her throat felt constricted. But this was safer, choosing to focus on something that now, in the view of Debbie finding out, seemed to her almost trivial.
"Jealous, Tish?" He asked facetiously, throwing back the very same phrase she asked him just a few days ago but she didn't look amused. He frowned when she turned back towards the window, completely ignoring his words."It's not what it looks like."
He advanced closer to her, shedding his heavy coat in the process as he dropped it carelessly at the nearest chair.
"It looks like you're taking your wife for a romantic weekend," she retorted coldly."Which part is not correct?"
She felt his presence behind her and closed her eyes briefly when he placed his hands on her arms.
God, she felt like weeping. She considered never feeling those hands touching her again and almost forgot how to breathe.
"I came up with the weekend idea because she started questioning me about my whereabouts last week," he told her."What was I supposed to tell her? I had to say something."
"I don't know," she admitted, her voice barely above the whisper and she still refused to face him. She didn't want him to see how close she was to crying.
"That necklace was for you," he confessed."I gave it to her because she started throwing accusations on me. I'm sorry, Tish," he whispered, wrapping his arms around her, quite taken aback how upset she seemed about it.
"Gomez - "
"I don't know how to...it's hard to know what to do," he interrupted her, turning her towards him to face him and she rested her hands on his chest almost instinctively.
It immediately occurred to her how much she loved being in his arms, how good it felt, how they seemed to fit together so perfectly it was almost uncanny.
"She's my wife... but you," he continued jadedly, chewing on his bottom lip."Every time I'm with her, it feels like I'm cheating on you."
"I think it's the other way around," she replied mirthlessly, quite glad that her voice didn't shake.
"Doesn't feel like it," he whispered pointedly, looking at her with such a startling array of emotions she felt trapped in his gaze.
She swallowed heavily.
"What do you want me to say?" She asked." Do you want me to tell you to stop sleeping with your wife?"
"I don't know what to do," he confessed.
"Well, I don't know the etiquette here either," she replied in a hoarse whisper. "It's a mess."
He looked at her in uncertainty as if looking for an answer, except she didn't have any answers. She was as much at loss on what to do as he was.
What was he supposed to do? Stop sleeping with his wife? It was ridiculous to even think of, and yet she couldn't deny that the fact that he felt so guilty about it filled her with an unmistaken feeling of raw satisfaction. Except, in the face of what she had to tell him, the satisfaction was short-lived.
She had told him not to make this complicated but it was increasingly obvious that it was getting more than complicated. That this affair went from zero to one hundred in a space of a few weeks and Gomez Addams has become a force in her life she didn't know how to part with and yet, continuing things as they were was unthinkable and impossible.
And now Debbie knew, which probably meant it was just a matter of time before someone else found out too. And, given how careless they were lately, it was really a matter of a very short time before someone found out and she certainly didn't want to deal with the aftermath of opening that particular Pandora's box.
"My friend knows," she whispered suddenly."About us," she clarified when he looked at her in confusion and felt him tense before his hand pressed more firmly against her lower back.
"Did you tell her?" He asked, looking at her intently. The whole issue with the weekend in Aspen was suddenly forgotten.
"No," she replied, letting out a tired sigh."She sort of… figured it out on her own."
He didn't reply, he didn't have to. They were both acutely aware of where this conversation was going.
"We can just keep sneaking around in hotels, Gomez," she pointed out somberly. "Someone is going to see us, eventually."
"I know," he agreed but didn't elaborate any further and she felt a brief flash of panic when it occurred to her that this was it. They would need to end it. Right now. They would have to stop seeing each other and how unbearable the prospect seemed to her.
She reached to touch the line of his jaw and leaned to kiss him, pressing her lips firmly against his.
How could she end it? How could she go on without being able to touch him? Without his lips against hers, without the feeling of his fingers weaved through her hair?
"I can't stand the thought of not being with you," he whispered against her lips, framing her face with his hands.
"We're on very thin ice as it is, Gomez," Morticia pointed out."My Grandmother is very suspicious. Debbie and...Ophelia is not stupid either..."
He nodded, pressing her closer to himself as if afraid she was slowly slipping out of his grasp.
"Maybe we should meet less often for a while," she suggested."Give it a few days."
"That sounds like torture," he replied, forcing a light tone to his voice even though the thought of parting with her felt very much like being torn apart.
"Gomez," she whispered and then paused, considering her words carefully."I never expected this to last this long... do you understand?"
He did. He understood perfectly. And as heartbreaking as it was, considering their situation, it filled him with a ridiculous sense of happiness.
"We don't have to end it," he said firmly."Not yet, I will find a way."
She couldn't help but smile at the fever in his voice
"What way?" She asked."What way is there?"
He blinked, suddenly struck by an idea.
"I can buy you an apartment," he offered slowly, watching for her reaction.
"Going from clandestine meetings in a hotel to buying your mistress an apartment?" She asked facetiously and he was immensely glad to hear a lighter tone in her voice.
"Yes, I realize the extent of the cliché here," he replied, his lips curling into a small smirk."But it's the best plan I've got at the moment."
"This is madness," she whispered but didn't refute the idea either.
"Madness is always the preferable journey when you're an Addams," he quipped, hoping to make her smile and was pleased when she shook her head and her lips stretched into a small smile.
His idea didn't solve the problem, they both knew it, they were prolonging the inevitable, clinging to illusions that this was going somewhere other than the abrupt end neither of them was ready to face at the moment.
She watched him reach into his pocket and took out a slim, rectangular velvet box.
She took it wordlessly and opened it.
"Are these thank-you-for-an-amazing-sex earings?" She asked flippantly, touching the long, pendulous, black diamond earrings.
He snorted, and she smiled at him teasingly, she wanted to break the seriousness of the moment, the evening felt emotionally charged as it was.
"There's no jewellery in the world to adequately thank for that," he replied.
"Hmmm, how true," she agreed, snapping the box closed and linking her arms around his neck, pleased to feel him relax against her." Those earrings are a good effort, though," she murmured against lips before capturing them into a slow, enticing kiss."A very, very good effort indeed, Mr Addams."
It was well past midnight when Debbie heard the front door open but she didn't make an effort to turn her forlorn gaze from the tv show she was currently watching. Although, she chose not to think about what it said about her social life that, there she was, almost one o'clock at night watching reruns of Bold and Beautiful but who could say no Stephanie Forrester trying to rip Brooke Logan's throat open?
She felt the slight dip of the sofa when Morticia sat down next to her and Debbie turned her head lazily towards her.
"Are those sorry-I-was-being-a-bitch chocolates?" She asked, referring to the box of her favourite Belgian chocolates that Morticia placed on her lap.
God only knew where she managed to buy them at this hour.
"In a manner of speaking, yes," Morticia replied, shifting slightly, before linking her hands together on her lap."I'm sorry I was being a bitch."
"Apology accepted," Debbie replied, opening the ornamental box and picking the heart-shaped praline from the tray and popped it into her mouth."This was our first fight," Debbie mentioned off-handedly, chewing on the sweet treat."And it was over a man."
Morticia smiled gently and wrinkled her nose.
"Disgusting," she commented.
"Pathetic."
The silence that stretched between them was charged, but not uncomfortable. Morticia knew Debbie would not interfere, but it was clear that her friend was currently not impressed with the quality of Morticia's life decisions, to put it mildly.
"Tish," Debbie said, her manner unusually gentle."You will need to end it. Soon. Now."
"I know," she admitted.
Debbie sighed and reached for the remote control, switching the tv off and turned towards Morticia.
"You know why I never go after a married man?" She asked cryptically.
"Because they're married?"Morticia replied sardonically.
Debbie couldn't help but smirk.
"Yes," she nodded." But also because no matter what happens you will always be second to someone else," she pointed out."And this situation you got yourself into? It couldn't be any worse."
"I know," Morticia interjected.
"She will always be Mrs Addams, not you," Debbie continued firmly."Even if he left her for you, you will always be 'that whore who seduced her sister's husband', do you understand? You deserve better than that. End it now, before it turns into a bigger disaster than it already is."
"I will end it," Morticia replied.
"When?"
"Soon."
Debbie exhaled tiredly and shook her head, leaning heavily against the sofa and reached for another chocolate.
"I could use many words to describe you but I never thought an idiot would be one of them. I think I will just kill him and end it for you," Debbie mused out loud."That's the best thing a best friend can do."
"Debbie - " Morticia said, her tone half amused half… Debbie couldn't even tell what she sounded like, she didn't sound like Morticia she knew, that's for sure.
"What?" She watched Morticia draw her lips in between her teeth, silent and contemplating before, swallowing hard and letting out a small, mirthless half- laugh.
"I don't want to end it," she breathed out quietly.
"This is not like you," Debbie said."Whatever he's… you're not like that. You don't go after other women's husbands, that's just...not you. Let him go."
"I can't."
"Why not?" Debbie asked in annoyance."Why can't you just fuck him and forget about him? Why are you getting yourself into this mess?"
"I don't want to say it," Morticia admitted, holding her friend's exasperated gaze.
Until Debbie's tense posture slumped a bit and her gaze softened.
"Tish...fuck," she whispered, recognizing the meaning behind Morticia's words and at that moment, she wanted nothing more than to rip Gomez fucking Addams into shreds.
A/N: My favourite thing in this fic is writing Debbie and Morticia, I swear. They were destined to be best friends. Thank you for reading, hope the long wait was worth it!
