A/N: Can we all appreciate that it took me less than two months to update? Booyah! :D

Hope you enjoy! Your thoughts are always welcomed! xxx


Chapter 10

"First of all, allow me to congratulate you all on your superb effort in organising this Sunday's charity bake-off," Laetitia Hornby praised in her saccharine-sweet voice, flashing them a row of her perfectly white teeth while placing both hands against her heart. "Your work and dedication, ladies, is always appreciated. Our success is your success, every single one of you and we couldn't have done it without you. You should be immensely proud of your effort in serving our community's most vulnerable, so let's all have a round of hearty applause for all the hard work," she cheered and started clapping even before she finished the sentence.

And, of course, the whole room erupted in enthusiastic clapping.

Ophelia had to almost physically restrain herself not to roll her eyes in annoyance but dutifully joined the chorus of clapping.

She didn't know what the hell she was even doing here, she was bored out of her mind and she didn't care about any of these things. Charity bake-off in support of widows and orphans, oh boo hoo fucking hoo, she didn't have time for this nonsense. She wanted to focus on moving the hell out of that bloody corpse of a mansion and yet here she was, wasting her precious time on some godforsaken charity she was forced to be a member of.

"What success?" Ophelia murmured to her friends." I will be shocked if they'll get even five hundred dollars of profit, and what is she planning to buy for that, a box of tampons?"

"Cease the teasing, last year Lucile Bell organised the bake-off at the church and collected a staggering sum of almost two thousand dollars," Holly informed her in a deadpan manner, giving Ophelia a little wink.

Ophelia couldn't help but snort in disdain - a little too loudly if the wave of disapproving looks that was suddenly directed at her was any indication, but really… two thousand dollars? She spent more than that on one measly shopping escapade with her friends just yesterday. Gomez spent more on his cigars every single month.

Ophelia resisted the urge to sigh impatiently, she had so much more interesting things to do than this. Her whole body was buzzing with excitement, she could not believe she was practically two steps away from moving out of the Addams Mansion. She didn't even tell her friends yet, she didn't want to jinx it, but it was finally happening and Gomez was signing all the legal papers this afternoon. Life couldn't get better - once she got out of here, that is.

"Honestly, this is pathetic," Ophelia whispered above the rim of her coffee cup and shook her head. The least they could do is serve some stronger drinks, so listening to this nonsense would be more bearable. Serving coffee and tea with cakes was honestly pathetic, what were they? Kindergarteners? "We're all married to millionaires and they fuss over cakes. Why don't they organise a charity auction or something? Surely, we can squeeze more money than two thousand - this is pocket money for everyone here."

"Shhhhh," Vanessa reprimanded, stifling a laugh. "You don't want to direct the wrath of our Grand High Leader upon you."

But it was too late for that, Ophelia could practically feel Laetitia Hornby's annoyed glare on her. She tried her best not to smirk as she wondered how annoyed that old bat would be had she found out that her husband tried to play grab-ass with Ophelia at his own seventieth birthday party. Who could blame him, though, Leaticia Horbny might be pushing fifty but it wouldn't hurt her to hit the gym a few times a week, she was starting to look like a jelly.

"Of course, all suggestions are more than welcome," Laetitia Hornby continued smoothly but there was detectable steel behind her soft tone."I think our dear Mrs Addams would like to share some?"

Suddenly all the eyes in the room were directed at her. Oh, for fuck sake, was this a joke?

Ophelia had to bite her cheeks in an effort to prevent herself from laughing. Who did this woman think she was, it felt like being reprimanded by a teacher.

"Me?" She asked innocently, curling her blond locks around her manicured fingers.

"Weren't you just sharing some thoughts with your dear friends?" Laetitia asked pointedly.

"Oh, that," Ophelia replied, smiling sweetly." I was thinking that, although charity bake-off is a fantastic idea," she paused briefly in a way that was clear she thought the exact opposite of what she just said. "Perhaps we could collect more money if we organised a charity auction," she added confidently, leaning a bit forward.

Leaticia Horby narrowed her eyes, lifting her chin a bit.

"A charity auction?" She asked in a tone that was a little sardonic, and Ophelia noticed some women smirking at her as if she was about to step into a trap.

Well, they clearly should learn a thing or two about her.

"Yes," Ophelia confirmed, linking her palms together and leaning slightly forward in a confident manner."Why not?"

"Well, for one, what goods should our guests bid on?" Leaticia Hornby challenged pointedly.

"We could ask everyone to donate something to the charity," she proposed, smoothly leaning more confidently against her chair. "Surely, everyone has some valuable trinkets they could spare for the charitable cause."

"All of it sounds good but it's a bit too late in a day to organise such an enterprise, I'm afraid." the older woman pointed out."We are three weeks away from Christmas, who is going to attend? People already have prior engagements -"

"Granted, it is short notice," Ophelia agreed but then smiled sweetly at the women sitting at the front table. "But it's all in a Christmas charity spirit, isn't it? And it's perfectly doable, it's all about good time management and organisational skills - that, I'm confident, everyone here possesses."

"Reverend Holmes had kindly offered us to use the church premises to organise the bake-off, we could not possibly disappoint him now, " Leaticia countered."That simply would not be proper."

Ophelia resisted an urge to sigh and roll her eyes at the woman's stubbornness.

"We can do both, then," she proposed, unable to keep a slight note of exasperation from her tone. The old bitch was really grating at her nerves in a way that could only be rivalled by Morticia.

Besides, everyone knew those bake-offs were pathetic and brought measly profit, but they were all terrified of the old bat as if she was going to bite their head off if they dared to criticise her. Honestly, what a pathetic bunch of bitches.

Leaticia Hornby didn't reply, not immediately, focusing her gaze on Ophelia's and silence in the room was suddenly so acute, Ophelia could hear her ears ringing. She watched the older woman's lips curl into a tiny smirk and she felt her firm confidence desert her a little, realising at the instance where this was all heading towards.

"By all means then, why don't you take the lead?" Leaticia proposed, her tone openly challenging but Ophelia knew well enough that to back away now would be unthinkable.

One could not challenge Leaticia Hornby and get away with it but Ophelia was inclined not only to get away with it. She planned to make this auction an absolute success.

Except, she had never organised a party in her entire life, her mother organised all the events, and at the Addams Mansion, Eudora took the lead and Ophelia was more than happy for them to do it, while she focused on more pleasurable aspects of life. And now, all things considered, plunging straight into organising a charity event for the city's most wealthy sounded a little too much than she could bite.

"Well?" Leaticia prompted, a small smirk playing at her lips.

"I will be honoured," Ophelia smiled, digging her long nails into the pillows of her palms.

"You will be fully supported of course," Mrs Horbny assured, in a tone that suggested exactly the opposite." I think it's a splendid opportunity since your dear papa is running for the office - forgive me for being so frank - I'm sure you will ensure there will be plenty of important people to encounter, with lots of prospective funding for our charity."

Oh, please someone fucking kill her right now. What a bitch.

"Oh, certainly," Ophelia assured, trying not to glare the hell out of that insufferable woman.

"I think I can speak for everyone when I say that we're absolutely thrilled to see the end result of this exciting idea," Leaticia smiled, locking her gaze with Ophelia's."Now - let's wrap up the bake-off while we leave organising the charity auction in Mrs Addams' capable hands, shall we?"

"She's out for blood now," Vanessa supplied, lighting her thin cigarette, as the rest of the gathering turned their focus away from their table."Yours."

"She can fuck off," Ophelia hissed quietly."I'm going to bring more money to this charity than they have ever seen."

"Mhmmm, what a way to make an enemy for life, darling," her friend laughed."That old crow will never forget it."


They said that if one repeats a lie often enough it becomes the truth, so she was repeatedly telling herself that she didn't care. Well, maybe not exactly - she did care but she told herself she was fine, regardless.

All things considered, it wasn't a conundrum on any scale, she could have expected that at one point or another, they wouldn't be able to meet as frequently as they have until now. Why, she even suggested they should meet each other less often - she didn't exactly mean it but as it happened, the first week of December brought the first wave of Christmas business parties which, of course, Gomez was expected to attend with Ophelia - their photo even ended up on Page Six, as Debbie, of course, did not fail to show her. The one time they have actually managed to arrange to meet each other this week, Ophelia called Gomez at lunchtime at his office to inform him that she would be around the area and, ultimately, Ophelia took up the whole of Gomez's afternoon, ending up with viewing another property that they, apparently, finally decided to buy. Or at least that's what Ophelia's told their mother.

Gomez only managed to send her a short note, telling her he wouldn't be able to make it and Morticia told herself she didn't care.

She was adamant not to care.

He was spending time with his wife - so what? She couldn't reasonably expect him to give her every minute of every day. She had no right nor grounds to be jealous, and she wasn't jealous, it would be stupid to be jealous.

But she missed him. She missed him in more ways than it was reasonable.

She told herself that perhaps it was for the best, a little break, a chance to fill her time with other things than Gomez Addams. It was the best, the most prudent course of action even, besides ending things, that is, and neither of them seemed inclined to end things - not yet, anyway.

So she told herself she was fine, she told herself she was being ridiculous because, surely, surely it was ridiculous to feel that way over a man she had barely met a few weeks ago. Just a few weeks ago Gomez Addams wasn't even in her life and in a few weeks at most, he would be out of her life again because there was no way for them to continue this affair indefinitely.

She found herself longing for a time when her life was not complicated by this affair, when the longing in her heart was undefined and didn't have a name and wasn't gnawing at her very soul. When the longing wasn't him. And she had never felt so out of control, never drawn to such madness so ferociously and so completely. She had not expected to miss him so terribly and it has been barely less than a week since they've last been together.

"Oh, for the love of - would you stop with this moping?" Debbie sighed in an exasperated manner, opening the fridge door in an abrupt manner.

"I am not moping," Morticia insisted, pretending to focus on the book in her hand, just as she was doing for… well, the devil knows how long because she lost track of the time of how long she was sitting on the sofa with a book in her hand.

"Oh, really?" Debbie raised her eyebrow sceptically."What book are you reading?"

Morticia opened her mouth with a sincere intention of replying but then momentarily realised that she had no idea. She lifted the book, taking a blatant peak at the cover and couldn't help but smile.

"Dostoyevsky," she replied."The Idiot."

"Never read it but the title fits your current circumstances like no other," Debbie commented, taking a bottle of dark, green juice from the fridge."Jesus, this looks like mud. Okay, so what's the plan?" She asked, flopping on the sofa next to Morticia. "You wait until Princess Daisy finds out you're screwing her husband and rips your pale throat open? "

Well, that was a good question, since their current plan was apparently to continue to sneak around until their luck ran out. Gomez mentioned buying an apartment but, besides the fact that it was a bit ridiculous, it also made her feel quite a bit awkward, she was uncomfortable with him investing so much money in this affair, and even if he went for it, it was also a short term solution. On the other hand, what other solution was there other than the short term?

Morticia bit her lip into a thin line.

"I don't know," she admitted.

"That's a lousy plan," her friend replied, vigorously shaking the bottle of juice. "The correct answer is to end it, Tish, and the sooner you end it the better - for you."

Morticia sighed, leaning further against the sofa and perched her bare feet against the coffee table.

"Debbie, I know all that," she said, turning towards her friend.

She did know it, she went over the scenario of this situation multiple times on a daily basis and each time arrived at the exact same conclusion - that they'd need to end it, sooner or later but she just couldn't bring herself to do it.

"Then why are you acting like such an idiot about him?" Debbie asked in an exasperated tone as she sat next to her on the sofa."Where do you think this is all going exactly?"

"To hell," Morticia replied curtly and watched Debbie smile at her.

"Well, that's for sure."

Morticia really didn't feel like discussing the matter, but at the same time - after a short period of levelled panic when Debbie found out - there was a sense of relief in the fact that she could actually discuss this affair with someone, even if Debbie wasn't exactly supportive. Then again, why would she be? There was very little in this situation she could be supportive of.

"What is it about this guy that reduced your impressive IQ to a french fry?" Her friend asked, her tone somewhere in between concerned, exasperated and mean and Morticia couldn't help but smile.

"I like him," she replied quietly, and honestly."A lot."

"And that's why you need to end it - now, preferably," Debbie insisted and let out another tired sigh when Morticia didn't reply."It really upsets me that you're such an idiot about this. What can I do to get the message through your sex-infused brain cells?"

"That… is a very good question," Morticia replied in a deadpan manner.

God, she wished it was just about sex, it would be so much easier if it was just about sex. She could have ended it in a flash if her feelings were contained merely to the carnal sphere of things but they weren't. She really liked being with him, she loved his company, loved talking to him, loved listening to his asinine stories, she loved how he made her feel, the way he looked at her, she loved how he made her laugh and his laugh - she absolutely adored his laugh as well.

"I will kill him," Debbie decided flippantly, interrupting her musings.

"No, you won't," Morticia retorted calmly but with a clear air of finality in her tone. One could never tell if Debbie was facetious or not when it came to the matters of life and death and she quite preferred Gomez Addams in one piece.

"It's the only way since, apparently, you have no capacity to make rational decisions," Debbie insisted."There's nothing for you to gain in this, Tish - nothing. He's using you and then goes back to his wife."

"He's not using me," Morticia replied sharply, more sharply than she intended but the insinuation immediately bothered her. "Gomez - look, he's not using me, he didn't coerce me into this affair, I wanted it."

"But it bothers you," Debbie said pointedly, watching her carefully."That he's with her."

"It doesn't bother me," Morticia retorted firmly.

"It fucking does," Debbie insisted," and it will bother you even more if you allow yourself to fall in love with him."

"Why would I fall in love with him?" Morticia tried to deny. It was stupid and futile and she wasn't fooling anyone, let alone Debbie but she wanted to live in denial as long as possible, despite all the evidence to the contrary.

"Because you're an idiot, that's why," Debbie replied bluntly, taking a sip of her juice and her face immediately twisted in disgust."Jesus wept, it looks like mud and tastes like death."

"Really?" Morticia asked, immediately interested in juice and the change of subject it has so conveniently provided." What's in it?"

Debbie turned the bottle to check the label and frowned.

"Cold-pressed kale, spinach, pear, celery and broccoli - what the hell, I think I'm gonna puke," Debbie decided, pushing the bottle away from her on the table.

"I wouldn't touch it for the ingredients alone," Morticia remarked, glaring at the bottle in distaste."Why do you drink this?"

"It's some juicing diet, detox.. thing," Debbie explained slowly."I read about it in a magazine when I was bored at work, you're supposed to shed two dress sizes in two weeks."

Morticia cast a doubtful look at the bottle. How something that looks so disgustingly inviting could taste bad? Although, come to think of it, she was once fooled by a passion fruit whose pulp looked like little frogs' eyes and it turned out revoltingly sweet. She reached for the bottle and took a small, curious sip, raising her eyebrows in surprise.

"It tastes delicious," she decided.

Debbie opened her mouth in disbelief.

"It tastes like someone blended grass with mud and water."

"Exactly."

"You have totally lost your mind," Debbie decided, watching her friend sip on the green disaster of a juice. "And I blame Gomez Addams for that too."


Eudora Addams used to claim that she knew her son like the back of her hand and, for most of his life, it was the truth, more or less. Less so, nowadays, she supposed. At times, it almost felt as if she didn't know him at all.

She sighed and propped her cheek with the pillow of her hand, resting her elbow on the arm of the sofa. She realised that she was completely at loss as to what to do. She had no idea what to do about the fact that her son was having an affair, and she had no doubt he was.

It wasn't just the crimson stain of lipstick on his shirt, she realised, the lipstick was now simply the last piece of the puzzle. She should have seen it and, in fact, she had seen it - the change in his behaviour, his late returns, long hours at work, excuse after excuse - she had seen it all and decided to ignore it. She wanted to trust him.

She wanted Gomez to be happy more than anything she wanted in her life, for him to move on from what happened ten years ago, to move on and be happy - to have a wife and the family, to have a purpose. She wanted to believe that her son was happy in his marriage, he needed the stability, the direction the marriage provided against the chaos of his life. It was good for him, it was what he needed, except apparently it was not enough.

He was married for less than six months, for God's sake, he didn't even give this marriage a proper chance, jumping into some random affair and jeopardising his chance for happiness.

Granted, Eudora knew her son wasn't in love and it wasn't ideal, not with his Castilian character but he could have made it work, he could have had the stability he needed but instead, he was throwing it all away and for what? A few moments of excitement? It was unthinkable, surely he had more common sense than that.

Why would he risk destroying his marriage? And Harald? How would he react? And Ophelia, oh that poor girl, how humiliating for her to have her husband cheat on her when they were barely married.

It didn't make sense, Gomez was so adamant to make this marriage work, he told her that himself, just days before his wedding. That this was his chance to prove to them that he was better than the sum of his misdeeds, that he was no longer a man who seduced his brother's fiancées, he's changed, he knew better - he was better and he would do better… and now this?

There was so much at stake, why would he risk it? And for whom?

Come to think of it, his behaviour was not only reprehensible, but it was also reckless. Late nights, measly excuses, and that lipstick… surely, a man who was unfaithful to his wife could do a better job at hiding the evidence of his misdeeds. Gomez's behaviour didn't make an ounce of sense, it was almost as if he didn't care if he was discovered. As if he's lost his mind.

She felt her whole body stiff, as the realisation came to her, a defeating, hopeless feeling that this was something more. That amidst all his secrecy and recklessness, she could not deny the fact that in those last few weeks, Gomez was also happier than she has seen him be in … devil knows how long - perhaps years, there was a spring in his step, he appeared to her elevated, he laughed - he laughed, in that gregarious, jovial way he used to have before that disastrous fight with Fester.

This wasn't just an affair.

Her son was in love, she realised with that horrible, sinking feeling. He was in love with a woman who was certainly not his wife, and what now? What should she do? An affair they could perhaps handle, but Gomez in love? Her son, with that Castillian temper? If he really was in love, what would be more natural for Gomez than to plunge into this insanity with mind, body and soul and damn the consequences? And that pattern would more than fit his recent behaviour.

And now what?

She had to speak to him, she had to reason with him before it was too late, before there was no way back, before Ophelia found out, before Harald found out.

Or perhaps, she could confide in her husband? Tell him of her suspicions?

Out of the question, that wasn't even an option, Harald would overreact - no, worse, he would rip Gomez apart and that wasn't a solution, their relationship was extremely fragile as it was. What then? What could she do?

Oh, that poor girl, that poor poor girl, she didn't deserve being treated that way.

She exhaled heavily, her eyes filling with angry tears. Why? Why, just this one time couldn't they be happy? It seemed to her that for the last ten years they were caught in some vicious circle of misery, and she was so desperate, so hopeful that with Gomez's marriage to Ophelia they would all get a new start, it would all be better. They would be happy.

Alas, it was shaping to be another unspeakable disaster and she dreaded to think what would happen now.

"Isn't that a morose view," her husband's light tone interrupted her thoughts and she blinked rapidly, forcing the tears back into her very soul. "Something troubling you, my darling?"

She swallowed and blinked rapidly, she didn't even hear him entering the parlour.

"Oh, I'm just being pathetic, I suppose," she lied, forcing a smile on her face."I feel a bit morose about the fact that Gomez and Ophelia would be moving out. I will be so empty here."

It was an adequate lie but a lie nonetheless. Truth be told, she was never the one to cling to her offspring for her dear life. Gomez was almost thirty, for God's sake. If he and Ophelia wanted to have a home on their own, she was more than happy for them to have one, except, considering their current predicament, she wasn't entirely sure it was such a good idea.

Harald nodded and smiled at her sympathetically.

"Children flying the nest," he remarked softly."It was bound to happen at some point."

She watched him sit next to her and take her hand, placing a soft kiss on her knuckles.

And suddenly, the need to tell him was almost overwhelming. Her heart felt so heavy with worry she just had to get it all out of her.

Maybe he would find the solution. Maybe that's what they needed, someone to confront Gomez and make him see reason.

"Darling," she turned towards him, wrapping both hands around his."Do you think he's happy?"

"Gomez?"

"Yes," she nodded.

"He doesn't seem unhappy," her husband remarked slowly, watching her intently. "Why do you ask?"

She wanted to tell him, she wanted to share her worries with him so desperately, she could barely contain them.

"I worry about him," she told him instead, swallowing heavily."I worry that…he's not happy… and I just want him to be happy, Harald."

"What makes you think he's not happy?" Her husband asked, his tone cautious, as if he suspected she wanted to tell him more than she was."He has a wonderful wife, and soon, hopefully, they will have their own family. He would be a fool not to be happy."

She nodded.

"Yes," she agreed."You're absolutely right, he would be an utter fool not to be happy."

Harald smiled and leaned towards her, placing a soft kiss on her forehead and she closed her eyes, taking a brief solace in the familiar intimacy.

"He's a grown man," he told her."He made his bed, and he has to lie in it. It's not our job to make him happy."

"It's not that simple," she whispered back.

"I think you worry too much about things you cannot possibly change," he assessed softly."What makes you think Gomez is not happy? He seems perfectly happy to me."

She bit her lips and nodded at him. She could not tell him. He wouldn't understand, it would only make things worse. How, she didn't know, she really didn't know how it could get any worse.

"Come, Lurch will serve dinner soon," her husband whispered in a more cheerful manner."And he has absolutely outdone himself - a baked iguana."

"Sounds delightful," she admitted, trying her best not to sound subdued."Is Gomez in?"

"He's just finishing a phone call with Johnson," he informed her." Poor chap has another fit over that Uranium mine investment, he claims it's illegal."

Eudora exhaled in relief. It would be the second day in a row that Gomez was joining them for dinner, not to mention the fact that they all attended two Christmas business events together and they were attending another one tomorrow evening.

She felt suddenly hopeful. Perhaps she was exaggerating.

Maybe it wasn't all gloomy and hopeless. Maybe there was still time to reason with him.

Maybe it was still a chance.


Gomez Addams felt restless - no, scratch that - Gomez Addams was quite sure he was a step away from going mad. Two seconds from plunging into the recesses of all misery, a black hole of depression and despair. He missed Morticia so much, he barely knew what to do with himself but in the past week he barely had five minutes to himself, let alone arranging a few hours to meet with her and if this was how he felt barely a week without her, he dreaded to think what awaited him when they'd end this affair. He dreaded imagining his life without her.

It was madness, painful and desperate, but what were the options? What indeed?

Well, there was one option. One option that he began to entertain while trying not to go mad without her.

What if he told her, what if he told her explicitly, how he felt? What if he confessed to her, what was already simmering between them unspoken, that he loved her - that he would do anything for her, that he would go to hell and back for her, and if she just said a word, he'd give up everything to be with her because nothing mattered to him more than her. Would that change anything?

He blinked, suddenly startled, when his father's loud laugh reverberated through the dining room and Gomez couldn't help but smile. He always liked the way his father laughed, the sound of it - loud and gregarious and confident. It reminded Gomez of the time when his father would tell them war stories at bedtime, when he and Fester were little and the Colonel still deemed it acceptable to "spoil them a little" but Gomez treasured those memories, nevertheless.

"You're butting heads with Laeticia Hornby?" He heard the Colonel ask, his tone highly amused.

Gomez frowned, utterly confused what on earth they were talking about, and tried his best to catch up with the gist of the conversation before anyone asked him any question. Also, why the hell was his mother staring at him like that?

"I wasn't butting heads with her per se," Ophelia assured, smiling at him coquettishly. "All I've done was to propose an alternative to that pathetic charity bake-off idea that would certainly gain more money for the charity and she acted as if I offended her. Is it my fault that my idea is better?"

"Oh, she must have been livid," Colonel commented jovially, raising his wine glass to toast Ophelia and she grinned, raising her own glass to his.

His father seemed to adore Ophelia, she absolutely could do no wrong in his eyes, he always talked about her as if she was a blessing from heavens bestowed at Gomez and, on her part, Ophelia was inclined to cater to that angelic image of her. She agreed with almost everything the Colonel said - what a contrast to Morticia, he was pretty sure Harald Addams wasn't Morticia's favourite person in the world anyway and, on his father's part, the feeling seemed mutual. It was amusing to imagine how would his father cope with Morticia as his daughter-in-law, it would be interesting to say the least.

"Well, my dear," Eudora cleared her throat, cutting into her steak." Mrs Hornby is known for her unbroken stance on certain things, one can never say she's ever open to new suggestions unless she came up with them in the first place. She's been organising those bake-offs since I remember."

"They bring marginal gains for the charity, Eudora," Ophelia pointed out, her tone openly annoyed.

"It's more of a tradition than a serious venture at bringing funds to the charity," Eudora replied.

"True," Harald nodded, pouring more red wine sauce on his plate."Although, I think it's high time someone challenged that old bat. Why, we all have valuable trinkets we could donate. I'm sure the whole family would love to help."

"Oh, well, that is, ehm… so generous of you, Harald," Ophelia smiled at him. "But I'm… well I do have to agree with Mrs Horbny - it is very last minute and I'm sure everyone already has plans. I was thinking of inviting some business acquaintances, it's always a bad business to say no to a charity event, and even if they cannot attend they would surely send a generous cheque."

Harald laughed jovially and Gomez rested his gaze at Ophelia. He gathered that she had put herself in a position of organising some charity event after butting heads with the Hornby woman and he couldn't help but smile at the prospect.

"Beautiful and clever," his father praised. "But we would all love to support you, wouldn't we, my dear?"

"Oh, of course," Eudora concurred enthusiastically."Uncle Knick Knack loves to bid, he spends a small fortune on auctions. Gomez, darling, do you remember that time he spent over fifty thousand dollars on the mediaeval battle axe ?"

"Who could forget," Gomez smiled."Especially since it was the axe he donated and then bid against himself."

Ophelia looked as if she was two seconds from bursting into tears.

"Amazing," she smiled tightly.

"So when is the auction?" Eudora asked

"Two weeks from now, Saturday," Ophelia informed her. "It's a very tight schedule."

"I'm sure you will manage, my dear," Harald assured."In any case, we're all here to help."

"Oh, but weren't you supposed to go to Aspen that weekend?" Eudora interjected.

Gomez had to bite his cheeks in order to prevent his lips from stretching into a full-blown grin, he suddenly couldn't believe his luck. With Ophelia busy organising this charity event he would have more time to see Morticia and at the same time weaselled his way from a weekend away. It seemed almost too good to be true but he wasn't about to look a gift horse in its mouth.

"Oh no," Ophelia winced, covering her face with her hands before looking at him in disappointment."Oh, honey, I'm so sorry, I completely forgot it would clash with our weekend together."

It took almost an inhuman effort to put a downhearted look on his face because he felt like singing an opera at the moment.

"Don't worry," Gomez smiled at her appeasingly, wrapping his hand around her fingers."There will be other weekends. But only once in a lifetime opportunity to pull Mrs Hornby down a peg or two."

"Oh, darling," Ophelia laughed, squeezing his fingers."You're the best husband a woman can have."


Ever since she could remember, the library was her favourite place in the house. She liked to hide there as a child, usually to have some peace and quiet away from her older sister who seemed to have made a hobby out of making Morticia's life miserable. She didn't even remember how it started, or why, but at some point, Ophelia seemed to absolutely hate everything about Morticia, no matter what she's done - or even when she didn't do anything at all. Morticia must have been six or seven then, no older than that, and she completely didn't understand why her sister suddenly decided to despise her but the more she tried to reconcile the more cruel Ophelia became. Together with her friends, Ophelia seemed to focus her existence on making Morticia's life as unbearable as possible.

Morticia remembered, at some point, finding her painting brushes broken in half, her drawings torn into pieces, her dolls ended up in the fireplace; Ophelia didn't even pretend she was not the perpetrator. It was like a challenge to her, how far would she be allowed to take things. And the answer was: as far as she wanted, apparently. Not that the adults in the house permitted any form of physical abuse, but Ophelia's deeds went unpunished. There was never anything more than a soft, verbal reprimand, she was never even told to apologise.

Ophelia just likes the attention, Morticia should ignore her. Just stay out of her way, you know how she is. It's just her character. Don't provoke her, be a better person.

Except Ophelia started to claim all the attention, particularly that of her parents - father's especially, because her mother never overly involved herself in Morticia's upbringing. Well, except when Morticia got in trouble, that is, that seemed to be the only way to get her mother's attention.

Morticia chuckled mirthlessly to herself, running her fingers over the cloth-bound books on the shelf, she really didn't know why she still thought about it, it wasn't as if it bothered her nowadays, not anymore. Not much, anyway.

"May I recommend dear Mr Toynbee and his seven thousand pages of the history of civilizations?" Her father's voice suggested, picking the leather-bound volume from the shelf and handing it to her.

She really should keep her feet firmly on the ground and stop getting lost in the ruminations about the past because she didn't even notice him coming into the room.

Morticia smiled at him before inspecting the book, the first volume apparently.

"Is it good?" She asked.

"He has a very interesting perspective," he told her, taking out the cigar from his pocket." I'm curious what you'll think of it," he smiled at her. "Nice of you to come by, by the way. I feel like I haven't seen you in ages. Care to join me for lunch? Your mother is out at a pet spa with Henrik, so I'm having a huge sirloin of beef."

Morticia smiled at the excitement in his voice.

"Well, at least she didn't name it Fluffy," Morticia commented dryly. "Is mother still torturing you with a vegan diet?"

Her father nodded, his expression forlorn, leading them out of the library and into the dining room.

Morticia wouldn't necessarily call her family dysfunctional, in the sense that she knew families that were more dysfunctional than hers. Way more, in fact. Nevertheless, no one was pretending that her parent's marriage was a happy one. It was a strange union, given the fact that they were supposedly very much in love when they married - or so the legend went because no one spoke about that time anymore, and yet Morticia wasn't able to recall an instance when she could say that they were happy together.

"My doctor said my cholesterol levels are atrocious," he confessed as they were seated at the table."He doesn't know what he's talking about. I've never felt better."

"Why, with that copious amount of salt and saturated fat you consume, combined with your penchant for cigars? " She quipped, smiling at him affectionately. "I say you've proudly earned your atrocious cholesterol levels."

"Very funny," he rolled his eyes at her but his lips stretched into a soft smile before he sighed tiredly," it's madness, your mother said I shouldn't promote an unhealthy lifestyle - she forbade me to smoke in public - her and Stan. Imagine that!"

She often wondered what her mother was like before they married, what brought them together? Once when Morticia was nine, or ten, she could exactly remember, her father told her he was sorry he couldn't be better, that she deserved better, which Morticia thought was silly, and she told him that she could not have dreamed of a better father, because despite her relationship - or lack of it, with her mother, she never doubted that her father loved her, even for a second. He always supported her, he was always so excited about her first, pitiful attempts at painting, he took her to galleries, he hired her an art tutor - anything she asked him for. He took an avid interest in her life, he always had time for her, even when Ophelia was insistent on taking huge chunks of it to herself. And he always took her side, even when she was at fault. Even when he shouldn't.

"Mother seems more excited about this campaign than you," she noticed, propping her head on the pillow of her hand.

"Honestly?" He sighed, putting away his knife and fork."I'm slowly starting to regret the whole thing. I feel like I might have bitten more than I can chew."

"Then quit," she offered lightly.

"I can't do that -" he grimaced but, for a split second, he looked like wanted nothing more than to do just that.

"Why not? What's the point if you're not enjoying it?"

"I didn't say that," he denied, cutting into his steak."I like the challenge of it, I admit. This steak is delicious, try it."

Morticia shook her head, but dutifully cut into the chunk of meat on her plate. Thankfully, her father's diet was very similar to hers, they both abhorred vegetables with passion, unless they were blended and disguised as a sauce.

"Then don't quit," she shrugged.

"It is exhausting, though," he admitted, wincing a little."I feel like my brain doesn't rest, there's always something on my mind."

"Then quit," she offered curtly.

Her father tilted his head and laughed gregariously.

"I truly admire your black and white way of decision making," he commented fondly.

"Served me well so far," she smiled, slowly chewing on her meat.

"That's debatable," he countered lightly, raising his brow. "But enough about me. How are you these days? You've been very quiet."

"Have I?"

Her father nodded, cutting another piece of his steak, his eyes bright with amusement.

"No arguments with your mother, no scandals," he listed fondly."I'm beginning to worry."

"I thought I was forbidden to indulge in scandals in the light of your political journey," she retorted dryly.

"Such measly things never stopped you before," he teased, taking a sip of his red wine.

"Fair point," she smiled, and then added in a more serious tone," I'm thinking of going abroad again," she confessed.

Her father's face lost its amused sparkle.

"I was hoping you'd stay for Christmas," he remarked softly, disappointment evident in his voice."Granny as well."

"I'm not sure I will," she replied with a small shrug.

She had come to a decision that leaving was the only option. What was the point of staying here and continuing the affair with a man she could never have? She was in over her head, there was no point in denying it, staying here would only make matters worse, regardless of the outcome of this affair. Leaving was the best option.

Besides, spending Christmas with Ophelia really wasn't an option either. She was already avoiding any interaction with her sister and it was becoming increasingly uncomfortable for her to be around Ophelia.

It didn't mean that she regretted being with Gomez, far from it, she couldn't even begin to describe how he made her feel but it didn't change the fact that the nature of it didn't make her feel good. Sleeping with one's sister's husband was one thing, falling in love with him was quite another.

Or maybe both things were equally bad, she couldn't tell at this point.

The thing was that she didn't hate Ophelia and she didn't want her hurt, despite their tempestuous relationship. It was a coincidence, a horrible, heartbreaking coincidence that Gomez happened to be married to her sister but it was never about Ophelia, although her sister would probably not see it that way. No one will.

"Why? Have you had an argument with your mother?" Her father prompted." I thought things have been rather cordial between the two of you."

"They have," she agreed before adding sardonically, "we barely see each other, after all."

"Now that never stopped either of you before," he remarked in a dry tone.

She smiled at him.

"It's nothing to do with mother," she assured him."I just want to… get away for a while."

Even though the thought of ending things with Gomez and being away from him filled her very soul with such misery she could barely stand it, but what else could she do?

"Things with Vlad are not going well?" He guessed.

Ugh, that was another kettle of fish altogether.

"Are you trying to snoop for details?" Morticia asked, looking at him with mild amusement.

"I am," he admitted, grinning at her."Is it going somewhere?"

To hell in a basketcase, she thought, that's where everything was going.

"Not really," she shrugged.

Vlad called her mid-week to ask her out for dinner and she had agreed, hoping it would take her mind off Gomez or, at the very least, would stop her from constantly brooding about the issue but she ended up being mostly quiet and withdrawn, didn't even touch her food and, ultimately, simply apologised to Vlad, faking not feeling well and asked him to just take her back to her apartment.

And he was really sweet, sending her a bouquet of red roses the next day, hoping she was feeling better and she didn't even have the incentive to call him and thank him for the gesture. Debbie ended up sending him a thank you note.

"Not really?" Her father prodded.

"No," she amended confidently." He's nice but -", she paused, thinking her words through - but he wasn't who she wanted and the man she wanted was beyond her reach."I just don't think that this is it."

Understatement. Of. A. Century.

"Poppet, you should never settle for less," her father advised sagely, looking at her softly." You can't marry someone if you don't feel the same way about each other. It's not fair on either of you."

She wondered if he was speaking from experience. A valuable insight after years of a near disaster of a marriage?

Hold on a minute, though, what marriage…

"Who's talking about marriage?"She asked suspiciously.

Surely Vlad realised that if he approached her father in some ridiculous attempt to ask for her hand or any other nonsense, she would skin him alive.

"I'm pretty certain Vlad didn't make a sizable donation to my campaign because he likes me," he remarked pointedly." So if you don't want to find yourself in an awkward situation where the man drops on his knees and proposes, you better let him know how you feel."

"I tried," she almost groaned.

"Obviously not hard enough," her father pointed out, returning his attention to his meal.

"He's utterly unreceptive to my gentle hints," she explained to him."And also not so gentle ones. It seems as if the more one rejects men, the more persistent they are in their pursuit."

"Now, there's a lot of truth to that," he admitted, smiling at her."Everyone likes a good hunt."

"I'm not sure I appreciate the metaphor," she retorted firmly, regarding him with a mild glare and watched him chuckle.

"You have a lot of your mother in you," he commented offhandedly, his tone unusually wistful and then suddenly blinked, realised what he just said and couldn't help but laugh gently when Morticia looked at him as if he had just lost his mind.

"I assume she had a complete personality alteration, then," she commented brazenly, taking a sip of her water.

"You'd be surprised," he smiled at her, but the smile didn't seem to reach his eyes. He cleared his throat and looked at her softly, almost pleadingly."Stay for Christmas, I would love you to stay."

She swallowed heavily and looked away for a short, contemplating moment.

"I'll think about it," she promised, already deciding that it was simply not an option."Isn't Granny joining us? I thought you usually have lunch together."

"Surprisingly not this time, she's out," he replied."She said she has prior engagement - God only knows what she means by that. Do you know what she's up to these days? We barely see her."

Morticia could not help the smirk that formed on her lips.

"She's busy writing an erotic romance novel," she deadpanned.

"Very funny, Tish," her father rolled his eyes."Absolutely hilarious."

"I'm not jesting, Papa," she insisted, grinning at him."She gave me the manuscript to read."

She laughed when he glared at her, letting her know that he certainly didn't appreciate her jest.

"I swear, it's true," she insisted.

"That's - no, don't even joke - stop, stop," he remarked insistently, pointing at her as if she was an unruly child." That's really not funny."

"Granny says it's autobiographical - "

Her father stared at her pleadingly now, as if begging her to say she was joking and then dropped his cutlery on the plate with an exasperated sigh.

"Sometimes I feel that your Grandmother's sole purpose in life is to create mayhem," he commented tiredly, but there was also a faint note of affection there, a very exhausted, battered affection.

"But you must admit, Papa," she replied, curling one of her long tresses around her finger," that she's very good at it."


Gomez looked at the bedside clock and sighed tiredly.

Almost four in the morning, another sleepless night, a string of exhausting hours with nothing to do but contemplate his own misery, and the misery he was inflicting on others because that seemed to be his lot in life - hurting those around him.

Gomez looked at the woman next to him and felt…nothing, and how awful was that, to lay next to one's own wife and feel nothing. Well, not nothing. He felt bad, he felt guilty, he felt lonely and miserable - none were the feelings a man should feel when looking at his deserved better than this. It wasn't her fault he didn't love her. It wasn't her fault he wasn't happy in this marriage. He should never have gone ahead with this whole marriage, he didn't know what he expected would happen.

He didn't think, at the time, that love was a necessary ingredient in marriage and perhaps, if he never met Morticia, it would be enough, this loveless creature of a union, but now he knew the difference and he could not go back to living pretending that he didn't. He was in love with Morticia, in over his head, he could not recall a single hour in a day when he wouldn't think about her.

Was Ophelia even happy? Did she think about it? Was this marriage enough for her? Didn't she long for something deeper?

She appeared happy, more so since he decided to go ahead and buy her the mansion she chose - her mansion that she chose, it didn't even register with him that the sunny place in the suburbs was to become his home soon as well. He could barely imagine himself there but Ophelia was ecstatic with the prospect of moving out of the Addams Mansion. His parents accepted the news as something inevitable, a calm acceptance, leaving the nest - a natural outcome. He thought they'd be more upset about it, he didn't know why. Perhaps he hoped they'd be more upset about it, maybe it was just his pathetic soul longing for attention, as usual, and his parents just tried to be happy for him.

At least Ophelia was happy.

His wife was happy and content and he felt like howling out of sheer desperate hopelessness because this sole week away from Morticia, more than the weeks of his affair, made him understand how pointless this was - this burlesque of a marriage.

He would play a perfect husband and for what? How long and to what point? It didn't make sense. Ophelia was happy, yes, but her happiness was artificial, fake, an utter fraud and she didn't deserve it. She deserved someone who'd love her and that wasn't him. At the very least, Ophelia deserved a husband who wasn't cheating on her. And that also wasn't him.

Her husband was cheating on her in the worst way possible - he was madly in love with another woman.

He dared to imagine a scenario when they would tell everyone but, even in his hopelessly romantic soul, he couldn't imagine anything other than a disaster, a break up of a family, a scandal.

What was the alternative, though? Over the past week he found himself musing over it, what was the alternative, really? They would end their affair, he would stay in a marriage with a woman he didn't love and will never love and they would wait, in their collective misery, until they die? For the sake of what?

Was it his fault that he fell in love? What was he supposed to do, when from the moment he rested his gaze on Morticia he could not think of anyone else. And he was never happier than when he was with her, and never more miserable when they had to part. He could no longer imagine his life without her in it.

He had to do something.

There had to be a way.


Debbie Jellinsky was not happy. In fact, she was annoyed as hell. She was close to murdering someone just to have some fun.

She was also hungry but, as per usual, since neither she nor Morticia ever bothered with the grocery shopping the only edible thing they had in the apartment were Debbie's cold-pressed disaster juices, that she was going to put away in the trash but the accidentally became Morticia's second favourite beverage, and the plant food that Morticia fed to that freakish carnivorous plant and Debbie was not famished enough to eat zebra burgers.

She looked at her wristwatch and sighed, she was running late. If things didn't pick up between her and the surgeon, she would have to quit this job, she was sooo over with waking up at the ungodly hours of the morning to work as his secretary. He wasn't that rich to warrant such sacrifice from Debbie but he asked Debbie if she could come earlier today because one of his regular patients needed to have an urgent botox refill. Was that even a thing? How can botox injection be deemed urgent? Did her lips collapse at dinner or what?

Ugh, damn rich bitches and their early morning plastic surgery appointments, as if that botox injection couldn't wait until lunchtime.

Where were her keys, she could swear she left them at the kitchen counter? Oh, she put them in the purse, damn it was way too early for her to be awake.

She opened the front door swiftly and almost collided with the tall man before her.

"What the f - oh," she muttered and then raised her eyebrow at the realisation who was standing at the door and shook her head in disbelief. This day just got better and better.

"Ugh, I really don't have time for this," she muttered regretfully out loud, and the man frowned at her in confusion, so she proceeded to explain, "it would take at least a few hours to dispose of your body and I'm already running late. Also, ehm…have you lost your mind?"

"Quite a few times at this point, actually," the man before her replied, flashing her a charming grin."My name is Gomez -"

"Addams," Debbie interjected, rolling her eyes at him." I know exactly who you are," she added before grabbing at the lapel of his coat and all but dragging him inside the apartment." Far from me from telling you how to do adultery but this," she mentioned vaguely at the apartment."Is thin ice."

"You must be Debbie," he guessed."Is Morticia in?"

She rolled her eyes again.

"It's eight minutes past six o'clock in the morning," she pointed out." Of course she's in, she's still sleeping, so kindly wait here while I go and inform that idiot that her idiot lover is here."

She didn't even wait for his reply, making her way to Morticia's bedroom, silently pondering how ridiculous this whole situation was, although the man was hot as hell, she had to admit that.

She entered the bedroom and almost tripped over the canvas, perched stupidly close to the door, and let out a silent curse.

"Tish," she whispered, shaking Morticia's arm gently and, unsurprisingly, was greeted with an annoyed growl."Wake up."

"No," Morticia replied curtly, pulling the covers over her head."What time is it?"

"Six in the morning," Debbie replied and was met with another growl that sounded suspiciously like quite an impressive curse." Your lover is here," she tried.

"You're hilarious," she muttered sleepily before throwing one of the pillows at Debbie."Go away."

"Should I tell him to wait for you in the living room?"

"I don't care," she muttered tiredly without opening her eyes."Goodnight."

Debbie shrugged.

Well, Morticia couldn't claim she didn't try to warn her, it wasn't Debbie's fault that her friend was totally incoherent at six o'clock in the morning.

"I don't think she understood a word I said to her," she told Gomez when she returned to the kitchen." Look, I have no time to stay and chat but she's absolutely out of it this early in the morning so either come back later or pick a book and make yourself comfortable, she won't be awake before ten."

"Are you going to just let me stay here?" He asked, apparently utterly flabbergasted at the idea.

Debbie turned swiftly towards him, resting one hand on the door handle.

"She's been living with a homicidal maniac for almost two years," she pointed out."What kind of threat could you pose to her?"

"None," he replied immediately.

"Correct answer," Debbie nodded, turning the door handle and adding before leaving the apartment," although, please be informed that in the event that any harm would come to her, I will find you and cut you into twenty-seven thousand little ribbons."

"Dully noted."

The girl shot him a warning look before closing the door behind her.

Well, this was interesting.

Serves him well for appearing at Morticia's apartment at six o'clock in the morning, he supposed. He didn't realise that the "friend" Morticia so frequently talked about actually lived with her, although now when he thought of it, it made perfect sense.

It would also make perfect sense if Morticia bit his head off for appearing here unannounced but he didn't sleep all night, not a wink, and the need to see her was just too overwhelming, he had to see her or he'd go mad.

He looked around and smiled to himself, the apartment smelled of books and paint. She also needed a conservatory, her apartment looked like a jungle, there were plants in practically every space available. No wonder she loved his mother's conservatory at the mansion. She obviously never heard of bookshelves either, because there were books and unframed canvas perched on the floor. He noticed a canvas perched at the easel near the balcony and came closer to inspect it. She clearly just started on it and he couldn't quite tell what the painting was going to be among the layer of deep red, fiery orange and black paint but he smiled nevertheless, she hasn't mentioned she started to paint again. Maybe she just started it this week, he had to ask her about it.

He looked in the direction where he assumed her bedroom was - where the girl, Debbie, disappeared earlier and grinned, excited at the prospect of seeing Morticia - even if only to have his head bitten off for being so stupidly reckless.

He opened the door as quietly as he could and peeked inside, noticing the canvas perched next to the door and went inside, careful not to knock it down. Her bedroom was larger than expected and shaded in darkness, the heavy curtains covering the large window.

He wasted no time, shedding off his coat, suit jacket and shoes as he silently approached the bed where she was almost completely hidden under the covers, save for a slender calf that was peeking from under the heavy duvet.

He slid into the bed with her and slowly peeled the duvet off her upper body before biting gently into her enticing bare arm and couldn't help but laugh heartily when she let out a surprised shriek, then an impressive curse and almost fell off the bed if he wasn't there to catch her.

"What the devil...Gomez," she scolded before punching him in the arm for good measure." You… what on …, " she paused, pushing her hair away from her face and then laughed." You frightened me half to death."

He laughed again, genuinely amused by her reaction.

"Shall I do it again?" he asked cheekily, earning himself a gentle slap on his shoulder and then, to his utter surprise, instead of scolding him for being here, she pulled him on top of her, claiming his lips into a firm, hot kiss.

"Care to explain what you are doing here?" She asked trying her best to put even an ounce of reprimand into her tone but failing miserably because all she was so ridiculously happy to see him, all she was able to focus on was the fact that he was so close to her, in her bed and she missed him more than she was prepared to admit but he was here now and it was all that mattered.

"I haven't slept all night," he said and pulled her into his arms, pressing her lips into his." I had to see you."

"How did you even get in?" She asked between the kisses, already undoing his shirt.

"Debbie let me in," he grunted, shedding his upper garments off.

She froze momentarily at his words.

"Debbie?" Morticia repeated, raising an eyebrow at him.

"Your friend, and roommate - apparently," he explained, purposely undoing his belt buckle.

"I know who Debbie is, you mad Castilian," she chided him softly, framing his face in between her hands. "God, I can't believe I have lasted this long without this," she whispered, bringing him down for another kiss. She just couldn't stop touching him.

"This past week has been absolutely unbearable, I couldn't stand another second away from you," he told her."I had to see you - this is what you sleep in?"

"Gomeeez," she laughed when he took a look at her nightgown.

"Let me see," he urged, pushing the duvet to the foot of the bed." Silk...mmmm and lace…," he groaned, running his hand appreciatively against her nightgown clad body."Merry Christmas, Gomez -"

"You're incorrigible, I swear," she laughed again and claimed his lips into a hot, urgent kiss, helping him to take the rest of his clothes off and couldn't help but moan in delight when he settled in between her tights, hot and naked, pressing his hips gently against her while his lips explored the soft skin of her neck and breasts.

God, it felt good, she didn't know how she lasted those eight days without him and she had an almost overwhelming need to tell him that - that she missed him terribly, insanely.

She moaned deliciously when his lips descended on her hardened nipple and he slid his warm hand in between her thighs until his fingers touched the lace of her panties and he groaned, feeling how ready she was for him. He slipped his fingers inside the soft lace of her panties and she inhaled sharply when she felt his digit press against the sleek flesh, and then moved slowly in a circular motion.

"Gomez," she moaned, biting her lower lip as she arched against him."Don't tease."

"So impatient, cara," he murmured, biting gently into the soft pad of her ear as he helped her disrobe and then settled again in between her thighs.

"It's been eight days," she pointed out, claiming his lips into a ravenous kiss."Eight. Very. Long days."

"Don't remind me," he replied hoarsely and slipped into her, eliciting another gasp of pleasure."God, you feel amazing."

"Mmmm," she murmured, tilting her head back and locking her legs around his hips. She loved how low and husky his voice got when the desire for her overtook him.

He thrust inside her and she parted her lips, letting out a quiet cry as he moved inside her with abandon and it seemed to her that she couldn't possibly get enough of him. Not now and not ever. She pressed her hands into the bed, lifting her hips a bit higher, taking more of him and he let out a low gasp, moving his hips urgently.

She felt the tension building in her groin quicker than she anticipated and she laced her fingers through his hair, bringing him down for an aggressive, bruising kiss as the ache in her stomach was becoming almost unbearable.

"Harder," she urged him, in a soft, breathy whisper, clinging closer to him and gasped loudly when he complied."Mmmm, gods, yes…yesss, gods, don't stop - " she cried out as the tension in her gave away sharply to a hot bliss, and her inner muscles clenched around him, eliciting a low groan out of him."Don't stop," she breathed out, moving her hips urgently against his." Gomez…mmmm…. I'm going to come again…"

"Gods, Tish," he moaned, fisting his hand into her hair as he claimed her lips into a hot kiss, pounding into her aggressively until she let out another delicious moan and he felt her muscles clench again so hard, he could not hold off any longer.

He tensed against her and pressed his fingers into the soft skin of her hips, arching his back as he jerked against her and came so hard, he could barely breathe.

He buried his face into her neck, brushing his lips against her silky skin before lifting his head to look at her.

"Forgot how to pace yourself, cara?" He teased, pressing his forehead gently against hers.

"Eight. Days. Gomez, " she retorted insistently, smiling at him, before adding in a hoarse whisper, "I almost went insane without you."

"Yes," he whispered tenderly, brushing his lips gently against hers." I think I know the feeling."


"You run out of coffee," he announced, as she exited the bathroom, wrapped only in the black towel, her skin and hair still damp from the shower they've shared together. It was more than he was wearing, laying completely naked on her bed, a book in his hand, lazily flipping through the pages.

"I don't drink coffee," she replied, drying her hair with the towel in her hands and couldn't help but let out a small laugh when he turned towards her with a bemused look on his face.

"What do you mean you don't drink coffee?" He asked, as if the concept of not drinking coffee was completely alien to him.

"It means that tea is my hot beverage of choice," she replied, sliding next to him on the bed.

"But… coffee is dark and bitter," he pointed out."If you drink plenty of it it can contribute to insomnia, anxiety and depression, what's not to like?"

"I like tea," she replied simply.

"Well, that's outrageous," he commented in a deadpan manner before letting out an exaggerated sigh."I knew you were too perfect to be true."

"Indeed, it's a terrible flaw, " she teased, placing a warm kiss on his lips and then noticed the book he was reading.

Her Grandmother's manuscript.

"You haven't been reading this, have you?"She asked suspiciously.

He nodded, grinning at her caddishly.

"Interesting story, I must say it escalated quickly, even for my standards," he told her, flipping through the pages."Page sixty-seven - "Rosalind quivered with need at the sight of his large - "

"Give that back -," she laughed, trying to snatch the book from his hands but he didn't let her.

"Do I make you quiver with need?" Gomez asked in a deadpan manner. "Tell me."

"Gomez -" she laughed, straddling his tights as she leaned to retrieve Patricia's manuscript. "Give it back."

"No," he shook his head, holding her pages away from her."I want to finish reading it."

"Absolutely not," she denied, snatching the book off his hands.

"Did you write it?" He asked cheekily.

"Noooo," she smiled at him."My grandmother did."

He frowned at her as if unhappy with the answer.

"She didn't," he insisted.

"Oh, she very much did," she nodded her head, laughing at his discomfort."She plans to publish it."

"So…you knit and paint, and your grandmother writes erotic novels?" He remarked, suddenly entirely too amused with the idea.

"She calls it porn with the plot," she informed him primly and grinned when he tilted his head and laughed jovially.

"An apt name," he commented.

"I actually took some notes from it," she said offhandedly.

"What notes?" He asked, his voice already acquiring an aroused note.

She batted her long lashes at him innocently.

"Oh, this and that… one involves a leather belt and hot wax," she smiled, giving him an enticing, sultry look."Care to… re-enact some scenes?"


"There's a café down the road if you're desperate for coffee," she told him, taking the kettle with boiling water off the stove, pouring it over the tea leaves in the pot.

He loved the image he presented, he looked so comfortable, sitting at her kitchen table, cigar in hand, watching her prepare the tea for them. He was all dressed, back in his striped suit, sans the bow tie, the top of his shirt unbuttoned.

"Tea will do," he smiled at her."I never got a chance to try your tea, after all. I got delightfully distracted."

"Oh?" She purred, coming over to him and sat on his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck, adding teasingly," and what worldly delights could possibly be so distracting?"

"You," he kissed her. "Always."

It felt so uncannily natural to be with him, it felt so good. She couldn't help but imagine how absolutely glorious it would be to do this every day, to wake up next to him, to start and end her day with him.

"What time do you need to be at the office?" She asked.

"Ten," he replied, sneaking his hand under the material of her black, silk robe, and rested it on her thigh in a familiar, intimate manner.

"Hmmm, busy day?"

"I have two potential accountants coming over for an interview," he nodded.

"That sounds awfully tedious," she commented lightly, and turned, without getting off his laps, to pour some tea into the two porcelain cups placed neatly on the kitchen.

"I will entertain myself thinking of you naked," he replied cheekily.

"That… is highly unprofessional, Mr Addams," she smiled, lifting her cup to her lips and took a small sip."If you're looking for an accountant, my father had the same one for years and years."

"Is he good?"

She shook her head.

"He's a scoundrel," she replied."Charlatans, really - both of them, Marty and Tally Alford, father and son. They will keep the taxman off your back but will try to rob you at the earliest opportunity - my father adores them."

"Sounds like my kind of people," he grinned at her."I need to hire someone before Colonel does."

"Why do you always call him that?" She asked suddenly.

"Who?" He asked, taking a sip of tea and pretending to think." Not bad, for a tea," he complimented. "It can never compete with coffee, though."

She smiled at him.

"That's a matter of opinion," she countered lightly." Colonel," she continued."You never call him father."

Gomez snorted derisively, taking another sip of the hot beverage before placing the cup gently on the table.

"Trust me, Colonel is the most accurate description of his parenting skills."

"I'm inclined to believe that," she agreed."My father will be more than happy to share his accountants with you."

"I will ask him."

"Gomez," she said hesitantly, placing her teacup and the saucer back on the table and wrapped her fingers gently around his palm."It's not a good idea for you to come here. Someone might have seen you."

"I know," he agreed, placing a soft kiss on her knuckles before gazing at her tenderly."But I really had to see you."

She nodded, pressing her lips gently against his temple, she could feel him smile.

"I also came to give you this," he said, reaching into his pocket and retrieving a set of keys.

He placed them on the table and looked at her expectantly.

"You really bought an apartment?" She asked.

"I told you I would. It's yours," he remarked."I left all the legal documents inside the apartment. "

"I didn't think you were serious," she admitted, picking the keys hesitantly.

"It's yours," he repeated, wrapping his arms around her waist."You can do whatever you want with it."

"Gomez," she whispered, pressing her palms gently against his chest. "What are we doing?"

He didn't answer. He didn't have the answer.

"I missed you, Tish," he said simply.

"I missed you too," she replied, looking at him tenderly.

It was more than that, and they both knew it, but saying it out loud would mean crossing the line after which there was no way back, some things said out loud would burn bridges and some things were better left unsaid.

"Will I see you tonight?"She asked instead.

His gaze dropped immediately and he looked away from her, shifting uncomfortably.

"I'm sorry - "

"It's fine," she interrupted him hastily." I didn't mean for you to -, " she paused, biting her lips into a thin line."It's fine if you have…previous engagements."

"It's not fine," he contradicted her, his voice surprisingly hoarse." Nothing about it is fine. I wish -," he exhaled in frustration, cursing silently and curled his hands around her arms."I better go before I say something stupid."

She wanted him to stay, she realised, she loved how good it felt to have him. She wanted to ask him when they would be able to see each other because being without him felt more and more like she couldn't breathe but even in her mind it sounded too pathetic, too needy - too much, and she suddenly felt incredibly vulnerable. She felt suffocated by the sudden knowledge that she got much more than what she bargained for; they both did, and she completely didn't know how to handle that.

She swallowed heavily and kissed him instead.

It was her fault.

It was her fault for falling in love with a married man.


Eudora Addams couldn't say she ever considered shopping therapeutic, she despised crowds and generally preferred to spend her days quietly tucked in at home, spending time with her husband, brewing her potions and tending to her plants. Granted, it was a bit more entertaining when the boys were little and kept her busy but she appreciated her little routines nevertheless.

It helped to have some structure in her days, particularly when it seemed like the world around her was falling apart. Or when she was trying to figure out what to do when you found out your recently married son was having an affair. She could, for example, busy herself with some complicated potions and take her mind off it, at least until the time she had something more tangible than a red lipstick stain as proof to sink her teeth into.

Except complicated potions required some complicated ingredient that she happened to run out of so, here she was, dragging poor Lurch on a shopping escapade that he absolutely despised, to restock on her ingredients, herbs and the like. All the poor thing seems to do nowadays is carry Ophelia's shopping bags and that girl seemed to shop every single day, the devil knows what she needs to buy every day.

It was unlikely that Lurch was going to miss her, that's for sure. Or Thing for that matter, the little hand was overjoyed with the news that Gomez and Ophelia were moving out of the Addams Mansion, he and Lurch went out yesterday to celebrate and poor Thing was now nursing a devil of a hangover.

She suddenly heard Lurch's soft growl and turned towards him only to notice what he seemed to be pointing to the other end of the shop, where the display of the poisonous plants was and she immediately recognized the willowy figure standing there.

"Morticia?"

The girl turned around in surprise and then smiled happily when she rested her eyes at Eudora. She made her way towards Eudora, a large pot with a conium plant in her hands.

"Mrs Addams," she greeted."What a surprise. Hello Lurch, how are you?"

The butler growled politely and Eudora thought she saw a ghost of a smile. She raised her eyebrows in astonishment, she has never seen Lurch smile at anyone in her life.

"Fancy seeing you here," Eudora smiled at her.

"I'm afraid I suffer from plant addiction," she confessed in a self-deprecating manner." I just recently discovered this delightful place and I'm definitely taking this precious thing with me," she said, pointing at the plant in her hands.

"It's wonderful, isn't it," Eudora nodded."I have been shopping here for years."

"Buying ingredients here for your magic potions?" Morticia asked, her tone mildly teasing.

Eudora found it hilarious that the girl seemed to be in two minds about her being a witch, as if she couldn't decide if the older woman was really a witch or simply teasing the hell out of her.

"Oh, absolutely," Eudora nodded."They have the highest quality ingredients. If you ever looked for an organic, powdered, decapitated rooster - this is your place!"

"An organic, decapitated rooster?" She smiled, slowly repeating the phrase as if the words she uttered were not supposed to go together in one sentence.

"Powdered!"

"I will… keep that in mind," she nodded. "Thank you."

"Do you fancy some tea?" Eudora asked."There's a place around the corner that serves delicious henbane tea."

"In your delightful company, Mrs Addams, I would even drink fruit juice," Morticia replied, smiling at the older woman.

"Well, I would never inflict such cruelty on anyone," Eudora winced."Lurch dear, be so kind and take the shopping to the car. Come, my dear," She turned towards Morticia, wrapping her hand around the younger woman's elbow."That tea is to die for, literally."


"Are you sure you don't have a witch in the family?" Eudora asked as she watched the waiter place the pot with a freshly brewed henbane tea on the table, after pouring the green beverage into their cups.

"Well, not the magic kind," Morticia replied dryly and Eudora could help but smile at the subtle dig."Unfortunately."

Eudora found it incredible just how different the two sisters were, not just physically. Not that Ophelia wasn't a nice girl, she was lovely but, tried as she might, she found herself unable to connect with her daughter-in-law. She found Ophelia's interest in shopping and exuberant social life a little exhausting, to be honest, it was hard to find something they could do together. Her sister, however, was just the opposite. She found Morticia uncannily familiar, talking to her felt like talking to an old friend, despite their age difference, she could swear they've already met before, in a different life, perhaps.

"You know, it's funny, but you remind me of someone I knew a long time ago," Eudora said a little wistfully.

"Really?"

Eudora nodded.

"We've studied very briefly together, it was ages ago, we were little girls, and I can't, for the life of me, remember her name now, but she was quite a brilliant herbalist, even at the very young age, she had an absolute knack for it - quite uncanny, really. "

"Well, they say everyone has a doppelganger," Morticia replied lightly."I'm afraid my family does not partake in occultism. I'm quite sure my mother would find the idea appalling."

"Absurd, you mean?"Eudora corrected knowingly.

"Yes, that too," she admitted, smiling at the older woman.

"And you?" Eudora prompted.

"Me?" She asked in surprise.

Eudora nodded, looking softly at Morticia.

"Have you ever considered studying herbalism?"

"No. Although, I do find herbalism fascinating," Morticia admitted, biting her lips briefly."But it hasn't crossed my mind to study it seriously, I wouldn't know where to start. I don't know much about it and what I know I learnt much by trial and error, I'm afraid."

"Well, I'm always available if you fancy learning more about it," Eudora offered and watched the younger woman let out an embarrassed laugh.

"I wouldn't want to bother you, Mrs Addams," she admitted."It would be like teaching a Kindergartener."

"It's not a bother," Eudora assured, smiling at her encouragingly."I can lend you some books to start with."

"That's very kind of you, Mrs Addams," Morticia smiled gratefully." Thank you."

"How is Cleopatra?" Eudora asked, sensing that the girl wanted to change the subject."Is she keeping you busy?"

Morticia let out an affectionate laugh.

"Well, let's say that I am beginning to suspect that when you gifted me Cleopatra, it wasn't exactly a gift," she replied knowingly, smiling at the older woman.

"Are you trying to suggest I was trying to get rid of her?" Eudora deadpanned, narrowing her eyes.

"I am, indeed," she grinned, taking a sip of her tea.

"Guilty as charged," Eudora laughed."I had many African Stranglers in my life, but Cleopatra certainly lives up to her name."

"I couldn't agree more," Morticia laughed, wiping the corners of her lips gently with the napkin.

Eudora felt her smile suddenly evaporate, her whole body froze in mid-movement and she couldn't help but stare at the crimson mark on the white napkin.

A crimson stain.

A blood-red shade.

Exactly the same as the one on her son's collar.


A/N: Thank you for reading!