Her Little Accusation Finally Came True

An ice-cold pair of steel blue eyes met hers across the bar. She felt her heart both stop and race. There was nothing that could have prepared her for seeing him again, in the flesh.. Emma made her way to the bar, staring. She deposited the tray she was carrying and sat down. After five years, he still looked the same. Drop-dead gorgeous, flawless skin…

“As I live and breathe,” Patrick said softly, pressing himself behind her to squeeze past and sit beside her. “I never thought I’d see you in person again…” She couldn’t look up. Even just the smell of him was making her head spin. Not his cologne, but something underneath that made the deepest part of her want to abandon every inch of her moral code. “Emma.”

“Why, Patrick?” Emma looked at him tearfully.

“It’s been five years.”

“Why are you here?”

“Because my movie’s just wrapped and everyone else has gone home. I wanted to grab some chicken wings before I hit the hotel alone.” He leaned in close to her. Emma looked at him properly. God, his eyes… “It’s good to see you, Em. You look amazing.”

“No thanks to your little attack dog,” Emma snapped, sipping her drink. Patrick looked down.

“She was right to be hurt.”

“Yeah. But did it justify her destroying the empire I’d built for myself?” Emma ran her finger around the rim of her glass. “Did it justify her destroying everything? Burning every bridge I had? And before you speak, think about what I’ve lost, and what you gained in the last five years, Patrick. Because our lives are wildly fucking different now.” Patrick pressed his lips together. Even now, five years later, knowing the impact what they’d done had had on both of their lives… he still felt something warming him whenever he looked at her.

He still wanted her. So badly.

“I’m sorry, Emma.”

“Sorry won’t bring it all back. Sorry should have been enough for her, but it wasn’t.”

Emma had had it all. A solid acting career. A solid dancing career, and the killer figure to go with it. Dance academies open in twenty-six capital cities across Europe, with five opening in the states, including a huge one in New York. Millions in the bank, her net worth fast approaching a billion. An Under Armour sponsorship that rivalled Project Rock. She spoke seven languages at least conversationally, and had an aerospace engineering space technology degree under her belt. She’d been nominated for and won an Academy Award, even though she’d handed the award back citing plenty of people of colour in the audience who’d put far better work up for grabs, who had been completely ignored. She was unstoppable, and universally adored.

Patrick, in comparison, was just an actor. Sure, he was adored, and women fell at his feet, but he could hardly boast the accolades Emma had. And while Emma terrified most men she knew, once you got to know her, it was clear she didn’t have the arrogance that came with having what she had.

They’d been filming together, and had hit it off from the first screen test they’d done. The same sense of humour, the same charm and wit… they’d been firm friends from that first day they’d met. And they’d kept constantly in touch, constantly combing through the script for ways to play their characters together, constantly updating each other on developments… and that grew to near constant communication outside of work, too. They were known as Hollywood’s Platonic Power Couple, and everyone adored them.

Everyone, that is, except for Patrick’s wife, Darcy. Darcy was a jealous one, even though Patrick did nothing but sing her praises. In fact, most of the conversations Emma and Patrick had involved something cute, or funny, or witty that Darcy had said. He was goo-goo for her.

Darcy, on the other hand, thought Emma was only out to get Patrick.

The first time Darcy met Emma, it was on set, and Emma and Patrick had a steamy little kissing scene to shoot. They had to practice a couple of times beforehand with the director, to see which direction they wanted to go in, to make sure they could hit their marks on screen. Darcy had walked in just as they’d kissed. She saw and felt what she wanted to see and feel. But then, she saw the staff stood around, and understood… and didn’t make a scene. She waited for them to break apart, and waited for Patrick to go to his trailer.

“Emma?”

Emma turned, and as soon as she saw Darcy – who she’d only ever seen in photos – her face lit up into a huge grin.

“Hi! You must be Darcy – I’d know those baby blues anywhere! It’s so nice to finally meet you!” Emma gushed, patting her shoulder.

“I’m sure it is. I just wanted to come over and say that I want you to stay away from Patrick. Far away.” Emma looked a little confused.

“I… I’m not sure I understand, Darcy.”

“You do. Don’t think that just because you’re always blowing up his phone, that it’s okay. Professional boundaries matter, one actor to another. And you’re destroying yours with him.”

“I mean, we’re in almost every single scene together, and it’s difficult work… we need to communicate a lot.”

“And talking about holidays is communicating about work?”

“Look, if there’s a problem, take it up with him, too. He’s not told me to stop.”

“I’ve told him I want him to stop speaking to you –“

“But that’ll be a bit hard, considering we’re both working together,” Emma smiled. “I’ve no interest in your husband, Darcy. You’re safe.”

That wasn’t the first time Emma was chastised by the ever-jealous Darcy. Almost every time Emma saw her, Darcy would come over and tell her to stay away, in some form or other. Patrick never heard it, of course, but it did grow tiring that Darcy didn’t trust him. And why wouldn’t she trust him? They were married – he’d chosen her!

“All he does is talk about you, Darcy! Let it fucking go!” Emma cried one night, as Darcy collared her backstage at a dance show. “You know, one day I’m going to actually fucking seduce him just to piss you off and make your accusations true. I’m sorry you’re jealous of whatever it is about me that you’re jealous of – because I sure as hell have no idea what your deal is!”

Emma, dressed in a skin-tight leotard and ballet tutu, was half-ready to go on stage. Darcy looked her up and down. Emma rested on one of her pointe shoes, hands on her waist.

“I’d love to see you try.”

“You want me to try and fuck him?! What exactly do you want?! Hmm? Do you want to be able to actually play that angle?!” Darcy’s silence said it all. “Trust him, Darcy. Because one day, he might get sick of you constantly thinking he’s going to choose someone else.”

With that, Emma turned away and made her way to the stage. Darcy wanted her to play dirty? She’d play dirty. Some of the dances she’d choreographed for that night were perfectly suggestive… and she knew exactly where Patrick would be sitting…

Patrick overheard one of the times Darcy had attacked Emma. This time, it had been for what Emma was wearing at the gym. Patrick and Emma had been working on a superhero movie together, and since Emma worked directly with The Rock and Under Armour, her ethos was ‘no muscle padding in the super-suit’. That meant lots of time at the gym lifting weights. And, since they were both working together closely on-screen again, they shared a personal trainer.

And when Darcy saw the Instagram posts with Emma in small shorts and a sports bra, dripping with sweat, Patrick in the background… well, she’d insisted on ‘being there to support Patrick’.

Emma had been pissed. She’d trained harder than ever that day, lifting weights heavier than she usually did, blasting her music louder than usual, streaming the entire thing live. Patrick hadn’t understood it, but Darcy had gotfive in the way a couple of times, and he’d asked her to go wait in the café, which she’d declined.

“Well, I can’t lift this while you’re stood there.”  

“I’m not going anywhere.”

Patrick had never seen the disconfivet Darcy held for Emma until that moment. That one small second, when Darcy’s glare was unsheathed and released full-power at Emma, was all Patrick needed to see. Suddenly, as he started his bench-press set, every little snipe and jibe came back to him.

“It’s not YOU I don’t trust, hahaha.”

“I hate it when SOME women throw themselves at you...”

“Why would you want to walk around looking like that? Any smaller and those shorts might as well be a thong.”

“I don’t know who some people think they are...”

All the little comments, always when Emma was there, or close by. Scoffs and eye rolls... poor Emma hadn’t done a thing to warrant it. As Emma lifted a pair of kettlebells over her head, Patrick finished his set and sat up.

“Darcy, go home.”

“I’m fine he-”

“What exactly is it you don’t trust? Hmm?”

“Ha, probably that we’re going to have crazy monkey sex all over the gym in a fivesome.” Emma turned and threw the kettlebell down. “Hey, Leo? Fivesome?” Emma spoke to their trainer, who burst out laughing.

“Sure, baby girl, right after that set and we’ll get going.”

“Charlie? Dave?” Emma spoke to her best friend and assisant respectively.

“Well, since I’m gay as they come, I’ll take that piece of ass,” Dave beamed at Patrick, winking. Anything to ham up the already over-egged pudding. Darcy flushed. “It’s not women you need to worry about taking him away from you, sweetheart.”

Darcy opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. When Patrick laughed alongside the others, she closed it again. Patrick stood.

“Look, Darce, I love you... I always have done. Always will. No-one else. Alright?” Darcy nodded, looking down. “Go home and see the kids.”

Patrick battled with himself for a while afterwards. Everything that was wrong with his relationship came flooding to him: the constant comments aimed only at Emma (yet there were other women who were far more touchy-feely who Darcy didn’t have an issue with); the very obvious lack of sex (but she was always so tired...); the under-appreciation she had of his body, and the over-appreciation he had for hers; the endless conversations about her work and never about his... As Patrick stood in the shower of his trailer, he realised just how one-sided his marriage actually had become over the years. And Emma being beautifully Emma wasn’t to blame for that. Neither were the two kids they had.

The hot water ran over his aching muscles, soothing them. Emma flashed into his mind again, her lifting the weights, screwing around on the aerial hoop at their choreography session for their fight scene... the way her body twisted, powerful, flexible... he felt a trickle of lust drip down to his lower abs that had nothing to do with the water...

No. He couldn’t.

But he really, really wanted to...

While he sat on the bed, contemplating life just in his towel, there was a knock on the door. He closed his eyes and sighed.

“Yeah?” The door opened. Emma stepped in, hands over her eyes, holdall in her hand.

“You decent?” A British term he’d come to love from her. He chuckled.

“Sure.” Emma dropped her hand and looked around to find him. Then, she turned away.

“I meant pants or something!” Patrick laughed. She turned back. “Anyway - my trailer’s got no water, apparently the line’s been leaking out or something. Everyone else has gone home. Can I use yours?” When Patrick said nothing, she smiled smally. “Hey, no stress. I can head to a hotel or something.” She turned to leave, but Patrick stopped her.

“No - Emma, wait. You can use it, sure. Just... got a lot on my mind.” Patrick stood, and Emma closed the door.

“Well, tell me about it.” Emma started to uncurl her hair from her high bun. It fell down her shoulders, wet with sweat. She still had meetings to do; that’s why she didn’t want to stay sweaty. “What’s up? Help me.”

Patrick moved to her, helping her with the bit of hair that was stuck just out of her sight in the hair-tie.

“Just... about Darcy, before. And what she was accusing me of.” His voice was soft, gentle. His fingers brushed her throat and she shivered. He smirked. Her hair free, she stretched upwards, and again little flashbacks of her on stage hit him. Before he knew what he was doing, he cupped her face and kissed her, softly at first, then a little more roughly. Emma chuckled softly.

“Easy, tiger... what’s brought this on?” She held his broad arms, a soft smile on her lips. Patrick’s pupils were blown, his gaze unwavering.

“Don’t play coy,” he murmured, taking hold of her chin. “You’ve no idea what I’ve been repressing…”

“Mmm,” Emma chuckled softly. He kissed her again, picking her up. Emma didn’t complain. She returned the kiss, trusting him to bear her weight just as he did all those times on set. She trained with him – she saw what he lifted. Her weight and then some. Patrick kissed down her body, tugging the tight waistband of her lycras down. Emma grinned, biting her lip. “I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t thought about you myself…” She sat up and tugged her sports bra off, lying back down.

“I think you know what you’ve been doing.”

“Existing?” Emma pushed him and rolled on top of him, straddling him. She pulled the towel away. “Damn… they didn’t pad the suit there after all…” Patrick grinned at her, shaking his head. “I’ve done nothing but be me… short of wearing a burka, or grossly baggy jogging suits…”

“I’m glad you didn’t,” Patrick muttered, running his hands up her sides. The taut muscle of her abs contracted beneath his touch. “Because fuck me…”

“With pleasure,” Emma purred, crawling forward. “As long as you’re sure this is what you really want?” A short nod, and Emma kissed him fully as she slid herself onto him, biting his lip.

It felt like hours that he had her on the edge. Her phone was going off the hook silently in her bag, but nothing else mattered. Her entire mind was occupied by Patrick’s assault on her. And Patrick was consumed by her, everything about her. The way she moved, the way she contracted around him… the urge to finish inside her was so, so tempting…

“Just d-do it,” Emma whined, clinging to him. Patrick pressed his forehead against hers.

“P-protection-“

“I’ll get the f-fucking pill – just PLEASE DO IT!” Patrick let a sly grin cross his lips. He kissed her deeply.

He pushed into her a final time, and lost himself entirely. He hadn’t been touched like that for years… not since the boys had come along. He hadn’t been the centre of someone’s atfivetion like that. He hadn’t been able to let himself go like that, not lisfiveing for the sounds of kids waking up, not biting his tongue hard enough to draw blood or almost suffocating himself in a pillow just to keep quiet… He looked down at her when the waves of pleasure stopped assaulting him, and kissed her.

“How much did you need that?” Emma asked, stroking his damp face.

“You’ve no idea. I need another shower now, I think…”

“Join me then… I’ve already missed one meeting.” She glanced at the clock. “You owe me.”

“She forgave you, though?”

“Mostly. We talked it though. Told her she should have just trusted me instead of constantly accusing me of that…” he sighed. “We had a lot to work on…” his hand met her thigh. “But I realised while I love her, I wasn’t in love with her… not like I am with you…”

“Wow.” Emma looked at him. She finished her drink. “Maybe you should have done something about it five years ago, then. Rather than let her destroy it all.”

Darcy hadn’t officially found out about Patrick and Emma, but she knew something was going on. Most people did. They didn’t exactly hide it. Darcy quickly spread the rumour that Emma was a junkie, and give ‘evidence’ that she’d been drunk around Make a Wish kids, or  did methamphetamine before shows. That she’d done cocaine before winning the Elite title as a dancer, too… it took three stories for Emma to lose every bit of credibility she had. Patrick stopped speaking to her when the pregnancy rumour came out.

“You were pregnant with my baby, Em.”

“I wasn’t.” Emma looked at him, wiping her eyes. “I wouldn’t let that happen.” Patrick gazed at her, a strange look of pain and confusion. “I took the morning after pill the first time, and then you used condoms.” She licked her lips. Patrick bit his lip, looking down.

“Then I fucked up,” he breathed.

“Yeah. You did. Her little accusation came true.”

“I’m sorry, Em…”

“It’s never going to be enough.”

“What will be?”

“I don’t know.” Patrick took her face and kissed her. She didn’t break away. “Don’t. Not if you’re not serious.”

“Maybe I finally am, Em.” He held up his hand. No ring. “I still love you. Deeply. And if… if you’ll have me…?”

“I’m a waitress in a bar, Patrick.”

“Let me help you rebuild. Give you the life you should have had all along.”

“Then tell them all what happened. Please.” Emma smiled at him softly, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “The truth.”

“Anything,” he breathed.