Auden tried to steady her breathing as she arrived at Patrick's exhibit, her arm linked through his. Outside, storm clouds gathered in the twilight sky, a quiet threat of rain hanging over the night, fueling her sense of doom. It was the same anxious feeling she had experienced at the gala earlier that year — the weight of anticipation, the fear of failure except with the added nagging awareness that she'd have to face Cillian tonight with Patrick at her side. 

This morning, she had awoken to an early morning text from Cillian.

[CILLIAN]: Good luck tonight.

Just three words, simple and impersonal. There had been no indication if he was attending, and still, Auden couldn't bring herself to ask. It meant more than it should have. 

Now, as she stepped inside the gallery, her chest tightened. The space was packed with guests dressed in their finest — black tie, as Patrick had insisted. It was already packed but she could hear Charles's chatter over the throng of voices. Patrick's work was displayed alongside the new display that her and Brigid had spent the last month designing.

"This looks amazing," Patrick murmured in her ear, placing a warm hand on her lower back. He was relaxed, any sign of nervousness overshadowed by his collected facade.

She offered him a smile. The gallery did look amazing — and she was proud of that. But Patrick's touch felt... off. It felt out of place, too casual a movement due to their earlier unresolved argument. Tonight was the first time they had been with one another since their last date, and neither of them had broached the fact that Auden had rejected his advances because of someone else.

Instinctively, her eyes drifted toward the crowd, scanning for Cillian. 

Nothing. 

Maybe he was running late. Maybe he wasn't coming at all. 

Her pulse thrummed uneasily at the thought. 

She spotted Brigid near the bar, two champagne flutes in hand. "Go mingle," Auden told Patrick, stepping away. "I'm going to check in with Brigid." 

Patrick nodded, pressing a kiss to her temple before disappearing into the crowd. Auden flinched at the touch. It was so small, so simple. And yet, all she could think about was how much she wished he wouldn't do things like that. 

The guilt gnawed at her as she maneuvered her way through the crowd, giving pleasantries to familiar faces until she reached Brigid.

"This is finally over with," Brigid sighed, handing Auden a glass. Her friend looked stunning in her cream-colored gown, her red hair pulled back into a complicated updo. She handed Auden a glass of champagne. "I can't believe you actually brought Patrick," she muttered. 

Auden rolled her eyes. "What's that supposed to mean?" 

Brigid lifted a perfectly shaped brow. "You know exactly what it means." 

"Well, I didn't really have another option," Auden replied, peering at Brigid through the rim of her champagne flute.

"Sure you did," Brigid retorted, no longer looking at her, "You could've come with Cillian."

Auden ignored the comment, taking a deep sip of champagne. Her mind was still too focused on the crowd. Searching. 

Then, something caught her eye. 

Patrick was tucked into a corner of the gallery, deep in conversation with a woman Auden had never seen before. 

She was tall, gorgeous, with long, glossy black hair that fell over her shoulders like silk. She appeared to be a little older than Patrick's usual friends, but it wasn't just that. It was the way they stood together — the familiarity, the ease, the quiet tension that set alarm bells ringing in Auden's head. 

She nudged Brigid, who was preoccupied with eye-flirting another man a few yards away. "Do you know that woman?" 

"Do you think that he's cute?" Brigid asked, ignoring her as she nudged her chin in the opposite direction. Auden's face scrunched in disgust as Brigid fluttered her lashes in an unnatural way.

"Sure," Auden replied, not even bothering to take a look at who she was referring to. She nudged her friend in the arm.

Brigid looked at her, "What was that for?"

"Do you know who that is?" Auden repeated, her head cocking in the direction of Patrick and the unknown woman.

Brigid squinted to get a better look, but the woman had turned around, her back now facing the crowd. A frown formed on her face. "She looks familiar, but I can't place where I've seen her before. They're standing awfully close, though." 

Auden's mind rang out in alarm. Something wasn't right. She needed to find out what. 

But just as she moved toward Patrick, Charles intercepted her. 

He grabbed her shoulders, beaming. "Wonderful job, Auden. I knew I didn't make a mistake hiring you." 

The pride in his voice made her heart swell. This — this was what she had worked so hard for. 

"Thank you, sir," she said, smiling. 

"Sir!" Charles laughed, "Oh, you make me feel so old. How many times do I need to remind you to call me Charles?"

"Just one more time, I guess."

But Charles didn't hear this. Instead, he sighed, placing his hands on his hips as he surveyed the room. "You have a bright future here, you know. If you stick with me, you could be running this place one day." 

Auden's breath caught. Owning the gallery? The idea of it, the sheer weight of what Charles was saying, left her momentarily stunned. He smiled down at her one last time, "Anyway, congratulations on a beautiful turnout."

With a pat on Auden's shoulder, Charles left the pair alone once again.

Brigid squeezed her arm as Charles disappeared back into the crowd. "Auden, did you hear that?" 

Auden nodded, dazed. "I think he's just drunk."

Brigid waved this away with some excitement, "Everyone tells the truth when they're drunk."

They giggled together, heads bent conspiratorially as they envisioned this possibility together. Their excitement, however, was short-lived, because when she turned back toward Patrick, that woman was still there. 

Her fingers brushed his arm lightly. Her smile was just a little too knowing. 

Brigid's smile fell, and a look of recognition sparked behind her eyes. "I know I've seen her somewhere, but where?"

"I'll go find out." Auden barely registered handing off her champagne before she was moving — weaving through the crowd, closing the distance between her and Patrick. 

Patrick did a double take as he saw her approach, his smile shifting to a frown instantly. Next to him, the unknown woman gave her a curious look as Auden plastered a fake, welcoming smile on her face.

"May we help you?" she asked.

Auden was taken aback at how beautiful this woman was up close. Her full, bright-red lips complimented the roundness of her face, the defined nature of her cheekbones. Her coffee-colored eyes were rimmed with dark kohl, smoked in the way that made her eyes remind her of a fox.

"Oh, um," Auden cleared her throat, shifting in her heels, "I was looking for Patrick.'

She raised a thin eyebrow at Auden, giving her a slow, sharp smile. 

"Who's this, Patrick?" the woman asked, her attention flicking to him.

Patrick tensed, his face growing pale. "This is Auden. Auden O'Donovan." 

The woman's smile widened. "Ah. So you're the woman who's been spending time with my son." 

She glanced at Patrick, confused. This woman was far too young to have a son that was Patrick's age. "Patrick is your — he's your son?" 

Patrick shifted beside her, looking anywhere but at Auden.

Jenni threw her head back, laughing as if this were the funniest thing she had ever heard. "Oh, honey, I'm not talking about Patrick." She leaned in slightly, lowering her voice as if savoring the moment. "I'm talking about Charlie." 

Auden froze – her pulse roared in her ears. Her lips parted, an inaudible 'oh' escaping from her breath. Next to Jenni, Patrick didn't move, rather he looked as if he wanted to crawl underneath the nearest table and never show his face again.

"I'm Jenni," the woman continued, her head tilting slightly to the side, "I've heard so much about you."

This wasn't something that was said lightly. It was bitter, as if admitting this out loud gave Jenni a sour taste in her mouth that she couldn't get rid of.

"Right," Auden responded, finding herself unable to look away from what was in front of her. She was staring at the woman who had broken Cillian's heart; who had shattered his life, and left him to pick up the pieces. "Where's Cillian?" Auden's voice came out flat, emotionless – unable to muster any sort of politeness.

Annoyance flashed behind her stare, but a smile remained plastered on her face. "He's at home with Charlie. I'm sorry he couldn't come, but Patrick's helped me so much the past year that it was only fair for me to attend instead."

She watched as Jenni touched his shoulder in a loving gesture, letting her fingers slide down his suit jacket in a way that suggested a more intimate meaning. Patrick didn't respond – instead, he stood frozen in his spot, unable to make eye contact with either woman.

"Patrick," his name sounded foreign in Auden's mouth. When he glanced at Auden, his eyes confirmed what she already knew: he was guilty.

Did you know his wife had an affair? Patrick's voice rang in her head.

Patrick. Cillian. Charlie. 

Patrick had told her Cillian's wife had cheated — but he had left out one key detail. 

It had been him. 

Auden's world lurched violently to the side. The man she had been seeing, the man she had been trying to force herself to want, had been the one to destroy Cillian's marriage. 

And Cillian had known. 

He had known and had said nothing. Had let her walk straight into this. 

"Auden —" Patrick started, reaching for her wrist. She jerked away like his touch would burn. She heard a quiet chuckle leave Jenni's lips.

"I hope you enjoy your evening," Auden managed to mutter, "Excuse me."

She turned, pushing past the crowd, past Brigid's concerned voice, past the suffocating weight of it all. 

She needed to get out. 

She needed to see Cillian.

She was angry. Auden couldn't believe how Cillian would let her be with that man — she couldn't believe she had kissed the man that had destroyed his family, his life, everything. She was mad that she wasted so much time and energy on a relationship she didn't even want in the first place. Auden thought she had been doing the right thing — making the moves that made sense.

Now, it didn't even matter.

None of it did.

She burst through the front door. Rain was pelting down from the sky but she didn't care. The cool rain felt amazing against her hot skin as it poured over down her face, her arms, and the front of her dress.

She welcomed it. Let it soak her dress, let it drown out the furious, heartbroken thoughts spiraling in her head. 

She tore down the wet streets of Dublin, her heels abandoned, her bare feet stinging against the pavement. 

She needed answers — tonight. She was done being in the dark. 

When she finally reached Cillian's townhouse, she barely had time to catch her breath before pounding on the door. The muscles in her legs throbbed, her feet screamed, but all it did was ground her to the moment.

When the door opened, Cillian appeared, his shirt rumpled, hair disheveled. He looked like he had been asleep.

"Auden?" His brows knitted, as he rubbed face. "Why aren't you at the gallery?" 

She stared up at him, rain dripping from her lashes. 

"Jesus," he said, his eyes widening as he took her in, "Did you walk here?"

"Why didn't you tell me?" Her voice was sharp, broken. 

Cillian blinked. "Tell you what?" 

She swallowed the lump in her throat. "Why didn't you tell me that Patrick was the one who slept with your wife." 

For a moment, the world was silent. His eyes grew wide, and he quickly looked behind him before stepping outside in the rain and closing the door. "Will you keep it down? Charlie's asleep," he hissed.

"Why didn't you tell me?" She said once more, ignoring his request as her voice rose.

Drops of rain rolled down Cillian's face as water continued to fall on them. He stared blankly at Auden, his shoulders tensing before he said, "I didn't think it was necessary."

Auden's jaw dropped, "Not necessary? Are you insane?"

Cillian shrugged. She saw his jaw clench, just slightly, "I just don't see why it matters."

This. This is what set her off — all the frustration, all the confusion, the pain — it came boiling to the surface.

"No, no, I'm not doing this," Auden seethed, "I have spent the last three months asking questions that you won't answer, but I am done. I deserve to know what's going on."

Cillian's lips pursed, "Fine. You want me to tell you all about my failed marriage? How much time do you have?"

"Don't be a dick," Auden spat, "I deserve to know why you put me in this situation in the first place."

He glanced away from her, his eyes focusing on the air above her head, "I don't know."

"You don't know?" Auden was stunned, his ignorance driving her up a wall. "I was helping a man who ruined your life, and you're okay with that?"

Annoyance flickered across Cillian's face, giving Auden a small pleasure. It was the most emotion he had shown since this conversation began. "No, I'm not okay with that Auden. I fucking hate him."

"Then why did you bring him to me? Why did you help him in the first place? I would have never—"

"Never what?" Cillian cut Auden off, his momentum growing, "You would have never given him his show at the gallery? That's bullshit."

Auden wiped the water from her eyes, smearing her mascara, "As a matter of fact, yes."

"Oh please," Cillian scoffed, the malice in his voice tangible. "The only reason you hung around me was to network."

More rain dripped down her face even as she wiped it away. It was useless. God, she wished they could do this inside.

"You want the truth? I had no intention of talking to you that night in the first place," Cillian narrowed his eyes at this, but she kept going, "You were the one who approached me at the gala. You were the one who followed me out to that balcony. You were the one who mentioned meeting Patrick – and you were the one who took me to his studio."

He stared at her hard, silently fuming, as she added, "Oh, and let's not forget that you stalked me multiple times after."

He was angry now — his hands clenched to fists at his sides but again he stood there, refusing to say anything. He took each jab and swallowed it down, the frustration growing deep into his lungs. She reveled in it, because finally, he was just as pissed as she appeared to be.

She threw her arms up in the air, "What was the point, huh? What the hell was the point in you helping the man who fucks your wife?"

Cillian's nostrils flared and he opened his mouth. Her pulse quickened, but her hopes were dashed as he quickly closed it. His hair, now plastered to his forehead, released large droplets onto his drenched gray shirt.

"Was this just some game?" her voice sounded strained, tired, but she needed answers. She was tired of leaving him, always filled with questions and unsure with what would come tomorrow, "Were you just using me to make your wife jealous?"

Finally, he broke.

"God, Auden, no," he whined, his own tone exasperated as much as hers, "I-I just wanted an excuse to see you again. That night — on the balcony — it was the only thing I could think of. I was scrambling for some sort of excuse and I regretted what I said the moment I suggested it."

Auden's anger subsided slightly at his admittance, and she exhaled, and letting it settle between them before she remarked, "You don't need an excuse to see me Cillian. You've spent months searching for one when you've never needed to."

"Yes I do," Cillian raised his voice, stepping slightly closer to Auden. "Don't you get it? I am in the middle of fucking divorce. I am at the lowest I have ever been in my life, and I could not bring myself to subject you to that willingly."

"But —"

"That's not even taking into account that you're eighteen years younger than me," he interjected, letting out a humorless laugh as if this was some sort of sick joke. His voice lowered to a near-whisper, "I could be your father."

Cillian tilted his head back, closing his eyes slightly as the rain splattered across his face. He looked like a beautiful somber painting, one that she wished she could frame and display for the world to see.

"That has never mattered to me," Auden replied softly.

Cillian stood there with his eyes closed, letting the rain fall down his face for a beat longer. After a moment, he turned his head back down to Auden, his anger in his eyes was replaced with sadness, "Well, it should. My behavior — the way I have treated you — it should matter. You should run far away from me, and save yourself a lot of trouble."

She shook her head, her hair sticking to the sides of her cheek, "You think I don't know that? I've been with Patrick, trying to make it work, because that's what smart."

"Good," he nodded, "You should keep doing that."

"I can't," she shook her head, water flying every which direction, "I don't want to anymore."

There was a beat of silence, a quiet contemplation over the trajectory this conversation was going. If they kept it up, Auden was sure she would find herself in uncharted territory.

"I'm sorry, Auden," Cillian took a step back, moving as if he wanted to go inside, "I never intended for you to get mixed up in this."

"That's the thing. I'm not even hurt," Auden's voice came out hoarse from the yelling. She was desperate, grasping at him as he attempted to close the door on this discussion.  She moved closer, the unknown beckoning her like a curse.

"I'm not hurt because he's not the one I want."

Auden's mind was going a mile a minute as Cillian's bright stare searched her face. She had no time to formulate thoughts, or decide what to say next — she could hear her heart beat rapidly in her ears, mixing with the rain against the pavement. Now was her only chance, and she took it.

"You're the one I want," She breathed, "I thought I was making the right choices with Patrick, but it's killing me. When I'm with him, I think about you — it's always been you."

Rain poured down her face, hiding the angry tears that were starting to fall. Her voice was a whisper as she admitted, "I want you, Cillian."

He said nothing. It was too late for Auden to back out now. She had done it – she had finally fallen and Cillian knew. His eyes flooded with something — relief, maybe — as he moved towards her, the gap between them shrinking. He took her hands in her face, his thumbs wiping at the mix of rain and salty tears.

She nearly melted. With trembling fingers, she ran her palms up his shirt, feeling his chest beneath it, "You're a mess."

"I know," he whispered softly. Water rolled down the sides of his face, but she saw the feverish glint in his eyes. "You are too."

"Yes," Auden nodded, but this confirmation meant more than her appearance. They both knew. They both had felt it when they had held each other that day in her office, and both of them had been silently chasing after that comfort since.

Cillian tilted his head down towards her, and she gripped his shirt tighter as his fingers traveled down her face and under her chin. In their wake, her skin burned, warming her icy, wet cheeks. 

Her eyes fluttered closed, and she felt the soft brush of his lips on hers. Everything around them fell away.

It was short — Cillian pulled back just enough so their lips were barely touching, and he grazed his nose against hers, "I've been such an idiot."

Auden couldn't take it. She needed more from him — she wanted to indulge in that ache that followed her daily, the one she felt every time she left him without letting herself go. Her hands came up, entwining deep in his wet hair.

"Just shut up, and kiss me," she pleaded softly.

Cillian chuckled once, before his lips touched hers again, harder than before. Auden felt every part of her burst through the taste of rain and salt. His fingers moved and gripped the back of her head, tugging her hair slightly, sending a pleasurable sensation down Auden's spine. A quiet moan escaped, vibrating against his lips, and he pulled her in tighter.

Without letting her go, he bent slightly at the knees and lifted her up, effortlessly, as if she hardly weighed a thing. His grip on her thighs tightened, feeling the wet fabric as her legs folded around his waist for support. She snaked her arms around his neck, tugging on his bottom lip in an effort to tease. He groaned and she felt her backside push against the front door to his home. With one hand, he jostled the knob and the door flew open.

They almost toppled to the ground, but Cillian was quick on his feet, gripping the walls for balance. She giggled in the momentary break, with Cillian smirking wildly before reaching to kiss her again. This time, though, his kisses became more frantic — more hungry. She felt her heels clomp on the ground, as her thighs clamped tighter around him, the warm air from the inside causing her to shiver.

He carried her to the living room – she barely had time to react as he shoved her against a wall, the vibration causing a painting to crash to the floor.

"Leave it," Cillian demanded quietly before Auden could say something.

He brought his lips back to hers, his palm sliding under the hem of her dress. Instinctively, her hips pressed forward, silently begging him for more.

He responded by letting his lips travel across her cheek and down her jawline, before grazing her neck. Auden let her head roll to the side, savoring the way his lips pressed into the small divet beneath her ear.

Her entire body felt weak, like she was melting honey beneath a hot summer day. His teeth nipped at her neck softly.

"Cillian," She gently moaned, as his fingers traveled further under her dress, towards the lining of her under —

"Dad?" A quiet, confused voice shot through the room.

Auden's eyes flung open, her heart slamming into her throat. Against her, Cillian froze, his head lifting from her neck tediously.

Together, they turned their heads to find Charlie standing in the hallway, rubbing his eyes sleepily. "What was that noise?"

They were both out of breath, both fumbling over themselves to say something as they stared at the small boy in bright yellow pajamas. Cillian swiftly let go of Auden, and she slid down the wall, placing her feet on the ground and adjusting her damp dress.

She felt humiliated. When she glanced at Cillian, his face was just as flushed.

He licked his bottom lip, fixing his best fatherly stance as he said, "What noise?

The young boy drew his eyebrows together in confusion, "I heard a loud boom."

"Oh," Cillian forced a chuckle, "We just knocked something over on accident."

Charlie stretched, before scratching the side of his head, "Why are you all wet?"

Auden glanced from Cillian to Charlie.

"It's raining," Her voice came out as more of a question than an answer.

Charlie shrugged, clearly satisfied with the answer, and Cillian stepped towards him, gently nodding. "Let's go back to bed buddy. I'll be there in a minute."

His son yawned, turning on his heel to leave. Auden listened to his bare feet padding against the carpet as he returned to his room, the door clicking shut softly.

Cillian looked back at Auden, a smile was plastered on his face.

"Wow," he whispered.

He cupped her face in his hands, pulling their foreheads together. Neither of them needed to say anything to express what they were both feeling. A happy giggle escaped from Auden's chest as she smiled at Cillian.

Everything was falling into place.

"Let's get you out of those wet clothes," he murmured, and he took her hand, pulling her down the hallway to his bedroom.