Second Chances

After sleeping with Maxwell in London, Fran leaves the Sheffields for good. Four years later, they run into each other and are given a second chance to work things out. The only problem is, Fran's married.

As they laid there beside one another trying to catch their breaths Fran felt that familiar feeling of guilt begin to creep back in, the way it always did the moment she and Maxwell had finished making love. It felt so good and so right at the time, but the aftermath was always awful. Fran couldn't believe that she had become this person. Someone that would cheat on her husband with the man that despite her best efforts, had never wanted to marry her.

She turned to look at him and he met her gaze. "That was the last time," she told him firmly, pulling the sheet up over her chest to cover her naked body.

"That's what you said last time," he reminded her. "And the time before that..."

She scowled at him, "We shouldn't be doing this, Max. I'm married."

"I know," he answered with a frown. He hated when she reminded him of that fact. "But you still end up back in bed with me whenever you and your husband aren't getting along."

Fran immediately noticed the contempt in his voice when he said the word 'husband'. She knew how jealous Maxwell got and she loved how crazy it made him that she was married to another man. Part of her wanted him to hurt a little, like he had hurt her when he took back telling her he loved her all those years ago.

"Who said we're not getting along?"

"You don't have to say it," Max said. "I know you, I can tell when you're upset."

"I'm upset because I'm an awful person that cheats on her husband with her former boss," Fran retorted with a sigh. "How did we let this happen so many times?"

He paused, before answering, "After that first time, all those other times just seemed to happen so easily."

Fran thought back to the night they had started their affair just over four months ago. She was supposed to meet her husband of two years for dinner, but he had stood her up at the last minute because he had to work late.

"David, I'm already at the restaurant. You couldn't have called me earlier to tell me you couldn't make dinner?" Fran hissed into her cellphone as she sat at the restaurant bar, a glass of champagne sitting in front of her.

"Fran I'm sorry, I really thought I was gonna get out of work in time," he replied. "You know I'd rather be there with you, but what am I supposed to do? I have patients that need me."

She sighed, knowing that she couldn't exactly get mad about David's dedication to his job. He was a doctor and it was his job to help people - something that he loved to do. Unfortunately his job often came before their marriage. "I know," she told him. "It's fine, I'll see you at home." Then she hung up the phone, not giving him a chance to answer.

She put her phone back into her purse, before picking up her glass of champagne and taking a large sip. As she set her glass back down she heard a familiar voice call out to her.

"Miss Fine?"

By the fact that he was being so formal with her and using her maiden name, Fran knew exactly who it was before she even turned around. Not to mention she would recognize that voice anywhere. She turned and locked eyes with the one and only Maxwell Sheffield. She couldn't help but smile when she saw him. He looked the same as she remembered. Maybe a little more grey hair, but then again it had been four years.

"Wow, nobody's called me that in a while," she commented.

"Oh?" he remarked in confusion.

Fran sheepishly held up her left hand and displayed her wedding ring to him, "It's Mrs Roberts now."

She saw Maxwell's smile fall slightly, though he tried his best to hide it. He cleared his throat, before answering her, "Oh, you're married? I suppose congratulations are in order then. Who's the lucky man?"

"His name is David," she told him hesitantly. It felt strange to talk about her husband with the man she used to be in love with. She couldn't help but add, "He's a doctor."

"A doctor?" he repeated. "Jewish?" She nodded. "Your mother must be thrilled."

"She is," Fran nodded once more. They were silent for a moment, then she told him, "It's good to see you, Max."

He looked surprised that she had used his first name, but nevertheless responded, "It's good to see you too, Fran." They shared a smile, then he announced, "Anyway, I'll leave you to it. I'm sure you're waiting for someone."

"I was waiting for my husband, but he got caught up at work."

"Downside of being married to a doctor, huh?"

"Tell me about it," she rolled her eyes. "What about you? Are you meeting someone?"

"I just finished with a late meeting actually," Maxwell explained. "I was on my way out when I saw you sitting here. It would've been rude to not even say hello. It's been a long time."

Fran nodded, "Four years."

"Where has the time gone? It seems like just yesterday when you showed up on my doorstep selling cosmetics."

She smiled at the memory. She patted the seat beside her, "Come on, sit down and have a drink with me. For old times sake." When he looked a little hesitant, she added, "Unless you have somewhere else to be?"

"No, I just..."

"What?"

"I'm just surprised that you're being so friendly with me," Maxwell explained. "We didn't exactly leave things on the best terms."

Four years ago after Fran had surprised Maxwell in London, they had spent a romantic day together and upon returning to their hotel room, had ended up sleeping together. Fran had initially been thrilled, but the next morning Max had tried to back peddle in their relationship once more. This had been the final straw for Fran. She immediately flew back to New York and moved out of the Sheffield mansion, so fast that her room was empty by the time Maxwell got home. What hurt Fran the most was that he didn't come after her. She had left plenty of times before and he always tracked her down and convinced her to come back to him. But the one time it really counted, he hadn't even tried.

"That was a long time ago Max," she reminded him, pushing aside all those terrible memories. "Come on, I want to hear what you've been up to for the last four years."

He sat down on the bar stool beside her and remarked, "Like you don't already know. I know you still see the children upon occasion." He signalled for the bartender to come over to them and ordered a glass of scotch on the rocks.

"We don't talk about you. We have more exciting things to talk about," Fran responded teasingly, nudging his side. He glared at her playfully. "Seriously though, they don't say much about you when we catch up."

"They don't?"

She shook her head, "I guess they probably think I don't want to know what you're up to." She paused, before asking him, "They didn't tell you I got married?"

The bartender set his drink down in front of him and he quickly took a sip, relieved to have some liquid courage for the first conversation he had had with his former nanny in four years. He then confessed, "No, I knew. I don't know why I acted like I didn't."

She giggled, "You're not supposed to tell me that."

"I'm a terrible liar," he reminded her. After taking another sip of his drink, he stated, "I don't recall Niles or the children receiving an invitation to your wedding."

"That's because nobody received an invitation," Fran explained. "We eloped."

"You eloped?" he repeated in surprise. "That doesn't seem like you."

She shrugged, "At the end of the day, we didn't care about the big, fancy wedding. We just wanted to be married."

"How did your mother react?"

"Her reaction was mixed," Fran chuckled. "She was thrilled that I was finally married, but she hated that she didn't get to be apart of it."

"You didn't even have your parents there?" Max asked, again extremely surprised at what he was hearing.

She shook her head, "Nope, it was just us on the beach in Hawaii at sunset. Oh, and Val and Fred were there as witnesses."

"Fred?"

"Val's husband."

"Val's married too?"

Fran replied, "Don't act so surprised. They're actually perfect for each other. He's not the sharpest tool in the shed either, if you know what I mean."

"Ah, I see," he nodded.

One glass of liquid courage quickly turned into four. To Maxwell's surprise, Fran had kept up with him drink for drink.

When the bartender set their fifth drinks down in front of them, Max asked her, "Are you sure you can handle another one of these?"

"Excuse me?" she asked, feeling quite offended. "I'll have you know, I can handle my liquor a lot better now."

"Is that so?"

"That is so," she nodded, taking a big sip of her wine to prove her point. She sat her drink back down on the bar, before raising her arms up in the air and announcing, "See? I'm perfectly f- ahh!" And suddenly, she was on the floor.

"Fran," he called out in concern, trying to stifle a laugh at the sight of her sprawled on the floor. He quickly hopped up off the bar stool and helped her up, "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," she responded, drawing out the word 'fine' in a way that proved that she had definitely had more than enough to drink that night. "My tuchus, on the other hand, is not," she remarked, wincing at the sore spot on her backside that would no doubt turn into a bruise.

Max saw the bartender begin to approach them with a concerned look on his face. "Don't worry, I'm taking her home," he assured him.

"What? No, I'm fine," Fran insisted once more, reaching for her drink. To her annoyance, Maxwell pushed it away from her. "Hey!"

"Let's go," he announced, setting a couple of bills down on the bar to pay for their tab, before grabbing Fran's purse in one hand and her hand in the other. He led her out of the restaurant and out onto the busy New York City street.

She huffed in annoyance, "We didn't have to leave you know. I'm not drunk."

"You could've fooled me."

"I'm not, I'm perfectly fine. I just fell off the stool, it could happen to anybody."

Max couldn't help but laugh at her explanation. "Come on, let's get you home. Do you remember where you live?"

Fran placed her hands on her hips and glared at him, "Of course I remember where I live! But I don't want to go home."

"Well we're not drinking any more tonight, that's for sure," he told her.

"We don't have to drink, I just don't wanna go home."

"Why not?"

"Because I'll be alone," she confessed. "David works a lot. I'm always by myself."

Maxwell's heart broke a little at her confession. "Well he has an important job," he reminded her. "He's helping people."

She sighed, dramatically rolling her eyes, "I know, he's saving lives so I can't even complain about it without sounding completely selfish."

"It's not selfish to want your husband to come home every now and then."

"Yes it is."

"It's not, he should make time for you too."

Fran nodded, "He should, shouldn't he?" Before Max could answer, her cellphone rang in her purse that he was still holding. "My phone!" she exclaimed.

He handed her the purse and she checked the caller ID, before making a face, "It's David." She put the phone to her ear with a sigh, "Yes?" Maxwell looked on as she listened to what her husband had to say. "Oh you're working even later tonight? What a surprise!" She paused once more, "No I'm not drunk...well maybe a little, but that's none of your business." She listened briefly again before announcing, "Whatever, call me when you actually have time for your wife." And with that, she hung up. She looked back to Maxwell, "Sorry about that."

"Don't worry about it."

Her eyes drifted from the Englishman to the hotel just up the street from where they were standing. She looked back to Max and asked, "Do you feel like doing something really stupid?"

Twenty minutes later, they burst into the hotel room, kissing passionately and ripping their clothes off one another as fast as they could. After a moment Maxwell sobered up slightly, realising what they were about to do. He broke off the kiss, "Fran, wait." She looked to him questioningly. He explained, "We can't do this, you're married."

A look of shock appeared on her face as she suddenly realised what she was doing. She was cheating on her husband. "Oh my God!" she exclaimed, sitting down on the edge of the bed with her head in her hands. "What am I doing?"

He sighed, before sitting down beside her, "Look, we're a little drunk and drunk people don't often make the best decisions."

It was her turn to sigh as she looked over at him. After a brief moment of silence, she asked him, "Have you ever felt like you made a big mistake in your life? A huge mistake that you can't come back from?"

He nodded slowly, the alcohol in his system making him admit to her, "That's how I feel about letting you walk out of my life four years ago."

Fran's eyes filled with tears at his confession, "Max..."

"I'm sorry," he said. "I know there's no point in bringing up things that happened so long ago."

She smirked, "It's actually quite satisfying to know that you regret what happened between us. I kinda love that it's still eating you up inside."

"That's a little harsh," he remarked, causing her to giggle. "But I probably deserved that."

After a pause, she asked softly, "Why did you do it, Max? Why did you let me leave after that fight we had in London?"

Max looked to her, surprised that she was asking him this question. "I don't know, I guess I was just scared," he told her.

Fran looked puzzled, "Scared of what? I would never have hurt you."

"No, it wasn't like that. I never thought you'd hurt me," he assured her, taking her hand in his. "I wanted you for so long and when I finally had the chance to be with you, I panicked at the thought of having something to lose again. I'd already lost one woman I loved, I couldn't risk losing you too."

"But you did lose me."

"I know, and that's something I have to live with for the rest of my life."

Fran was silent for a moment, trying to control the strong urge inside her to kiss him and tell him that he hadn't lost her. She knew she couldn't do the latter. Max had lost her, she was someone else's wife now. But she could still do the other thing she wanted to do. She looked at him for a second longer, before climbing onto his lap so she was straddling him. For a moment, they could forget the world around them and pretend that it was four years ago again in that London hotel room.

He gave her a bewildered look, "Fran, what-"

"Shhh," she hushed him. "Please don't say anything. Just kiss me." And with that, she pressed her lips to his and he was officially lost to her advances for the night.

"I was drunk that night Max," Fran reminded him. "I was a little upset with David for standing me up, but the alcohol made it a lot bigger deal than it really was. We made up the next day."

"After you spent the whole night before having sex with me," he pointed out.

"That's...beside the point."

"What are we doing here, Fran?" Maxwell asked her, sitting up and leaning against the headboard of the bed. She did the same. "You keep on defending David and claiming that you're so in love with him, but then you come running back to me over and over again. What do you want from me, exactly?"

She shook her head, "I don't know. I don't know what I want anymore."

He frowned, before proceeding to get out of bed to gather his clothes. "Well when you figure it out, let me know," he told her coldly.

"Max..." she started, not knowing how she was even going to finish that sentence. She watched as he finished putting his clothes back on, before sitting down on the side of the bed to put on his shoes. When he had finished tying one shoe and had moved on to the next one, she shifted closer to him and rested her chin on his shoulder, wrapping her arms around his waist from behind.

He stopped what he was doing and turned to her, placing a gentle kiss on her forehead. "I love you, Fran," he told her, like he had been doing often over the last couple of months. She could never bring herself to say it back, even though she knew that it was how she felt. "I know you don't love David."

"Of course I love David, he's my husband," she told him gently. "I wouldn't have married him if I didn't love him."

"But you don't love him the way you love me," Max reminded her bluntly. Fran knew he was right, but her pride wouldn't let her admit that out loud. He gave her a quick kiss on the lips, "Just think about that, will you?" She nodded silently as he stood up and left the room, leaving her alone once more.

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