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Addison glanced at the clock from her seat at the end of the bed.
He had been in the shower for thirty
minutes.
The long, hot shower only confirmed her suspicions and she looked down at her hands where they lay folded
in her lap, her skin pale against the red of the formal gown she still wore.
She remembered those showers--the guilt
and shame driven attempts to wash Mark away so that Derek wouldn't find any evidence even though every minute that she stood
under the water, she wondered if he was noticing how long she was taking, considering what the duration might mean.
But,
of course, now Addison knew that Derek had never noticed because he'd never paid enough attention to their disintegrating
marriage to let it bother him that his wife would come home and climb into a hot shower and scrub her skin red before she'd
even give him a kiss hello.
Rising from the bed, Addison walked to the dresser and began to take off her jewelry.
As she carefully returned it to her jewelry box, she weighed her options. She could leave--pack a bag and walk out before
he ever came out of the bathroom. It would be tit-for-tat, a reaction that mirrored his own after discovering her infidelity.
But Derek had been looking for a reason to run. Addison was looking for a reason to stay.
She loved her husband. It
was the one thing she could still swear to when it came to her marriage. They had both broken their vows now, both lied, both
run from their problems by hiding in someone else. She couldn't remember the last time they'd had an honest conversation where
they both told the whole truth and actually moved forward from it. Part of that, Addison acknowledged, was due to her fear.
She didn't want to make him run away again. So she kept biting her tongue, hiding her anger and her sadness and her passion
under the guise of cool disconnection. She was playing Derek's game--pretend.
If she stayed, the game had to end.
So the real question wasn't did she want to stay or leave, because she knew the answer to that. The question was did she have
the strength to force Derek to play by her rules?
Moving a few steps forward, she stared at her husband's still form.
He was standing behind the smoked glass of the shower door, his head resting against the wall as water poured down over his
neck and back.
He was still hers. Meredith had a piece of him, but she had the rest... and the history... and the
rings.
Addison slipped back into their bedroom and removed the numerous pins that had held her hair in its elegant
style for the night and then twisted her red locks and clipped them haphazardly atop her head. The red dress and lingerie
pooled on the floor around her. She stopped only to pull one of the soft Egyptian cotton washcloths from the linen cabinet
before she moved back to the shower door and pulled it open.
Derek startled at the small "click" and the sudden rush
of air. He turned and looked at her and his mouth fell open as Addison stepped into the shower with him and closed out the
rest of the world.
"Addie..."
She let the tips of her left index and middle fingers fall against his lips,
and Derek stood silent. His eyes telegraphed the story of the internal war going on between his emotions. But Addison's own
feelings were crystal clear. Whatever he'd done with Meredith, he had come home with her. That was all the information Addison
cared to hold on to from the evening--the rest was their past. Her campaign to save her marriage started over, tonight, and
it was now going to be run on her terms.
The first step was reclaiming her husband.
Addison reached past Derek
and dampened the cotton washcloth under the still-hot water. His eyes took in her every motion, including when she picked
up his soap, lathered the cloth and stepped toward him.
Pressing the warm, soapy fabric against his left shoulder,
Addison set out on her mission. Derek gasped at the contact, but neither spoke nor moved away. The lather on his body became
a map of the work she had done, and soon, there was not an inch of skin that hadn't been rinsed clean of any trace of the
mistake Derek had made tonight.
Dropping the cloth in the corner behind her, Addison lifted her eyes and studied her
husband. He had barely moved during his ministrations, but the look she found staring back at her had changed dramatically.
There was still guilt and confusion--she'd expected that. But there was also pride and desire and a true, genuine appreciation
Addison hadn't seen in a very long time.
Moving again, Addison snaked behind Derek and took the shampoo from his shelf
in the small stall and squeezed some into her hands. As she stepped closer to Derek, their skin now touching in numerous places,
she heard him suck in his breath at the sudden jolt of sensation.
"The water's going to start getting cold," he whispered,
in an attempt, she knew, to regain some control.
"I'll keep you warm," she replied, and her fingers sank into his
thick, curly hair and began to massage his scalp.
Derek moaned and leaned back against her, and Addison continued
her work, determined and purposeful in a way she had not been before tonight. Meanwhile, she felt her own head beginning to
swim a bit as Derek's body continued to fill with tension before she guided him back and rinsed the shampoo from his hair.
The water was lukewarm now, and probably only that because they were used to the decreased temperature since it had
happened gradually. Addison kept her right hand on his shoulder, wanting contact, as she reached back and turned the water
off.
A second later, Derek was kissing her, and Addison surrendered to it entirely, reminding herself that she had
chosen to let go of all that came before to start again, tonight, in this moment, to fight for the man she loved.
She
heard rather than saw him push the door open, nearly breaking it with the force he used. Addison felt her feet barely touching
the ground as Derek moved them out and back and then the bed was against her back and their wet skin was pressed tightly together.
He couldn't stop kissing her. It was the main thought running through her head as her hands roamed over him and his
lips continued to seek new ways to touch down on hers. And then all she could feel was Derek as their bodies joined together
and he held her and kissed her and pressed against her and she returned his passion with equal measure--the whole thing desperate
and primal and yet so filled with tenderness it made almost no sense to her.
She was slipping toward the edge when
she heard his voice, his face pressed into her neck as a ragged whisper tore from him.
"Don't let me go, Addie. Don't
let me go."
Addison wrapped her arms around her husband and held tight as the world exploded inside and around them.
Later, they still lay there entwined, his head on her chest, their legs a tangled mess. Addison's fingers were moving
gently in his now dry, unruly hair, the curls a jumble.
"I won't let go," she said softly, not sure if he was awake
or asleep.
Derek lifted his head, pressed a kiss to the skin just below her collarbone and then nodded as his head
settled back into its favorite spot.
"I didn't just mean tonight," he replied.
She lifted her head and placed
a soft kiss in the center of his messy curls. "I know."
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