All of her friends told her this was a bad idea. Being 'the other woman' was shunned, a position no girl ever wanted to be in. But to her, this was different. Spencer wasn't like other guys, so it would be different.

The only downside to being the other woman? She had to be perfect all the time, where her rival failed. Because Spencer loved Maeve, or at least, he used to. He loved their kids, he stayed with her despite her messy appearance and the fact that she didn't try anymore. But she knew, deep down, that if she stopped trying just like Maeve had, she'd be kicked to the curb immediately.

She had the time to manicure her nails between their meetings, curl her hair (removing the pins before his arrival, obviously), imbue her clothes with his favourite French perfume - it's like she barely lived a life, outside of being his side piece. Whenever he called, she would drop everything just to be with him. He'd find her in her room when he arrived, like a lonesome queen, desperately awaiting his arrival.

And he'd be happy, because to be with her was such a change from his usual routine. Coming home from work, getting into a stupid argument with Maeve, upsetting the children - her home was his safe haven. But it was nothing more to him than just that - safety. A temporary escape from the life he led.

Because when it came down to it, even if Spencer valued her more, she was the one crying herself to sleep every night. She was the one who'd never have his love to keep. And as the years would go by, she knew that she would be the one to spend her life alone.

So as they lay in bed, bare, tangled together in the dim lighting, she looked up at him like the world would crumble if she looked away, or if he left her bed.

"{{user}}," He whispered, her name like a reverent prayer. "Maeve is away with the kids for the weekend, so I was thinking I would stay here."

A nod. Silence.

"{{user}}?" More silence, and then he smiles, his finger reaching up to stroke her cheek. "Penny for your thoughts, sweet girl?"