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More Than a Memory

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As soon as Thomas walked through the door, Hillary rushed to him and threw her arms around him. Thomas quickly reacted as he dropped his bags, wrapping his arms around her, and they stood in a tight embrace. Their hug seemed to speak all the words left unsaid. However, Hillary soon spoke.

"I'm sorry," she whispered against his neck, never letting go of one another "I'm so, so sorry baby."

"Me too, Hillary," his voice almost muffled as he hurried his head in the crook of the neck.

They stood back to examine one another. Both had tears glossing their eyes. Thomas' thumb swept across her now rosy cheek, collecting rogue tears along the way. Neither knew what to say, yet had so much to say at the same time. After embracing one last time, Hillary picked up his bags and lead him up stairs.

"Let's get you unpacked."




The couple were saddled in the living room, with Chinese takeaways on their laps. Comfy, relaxed, and a throwback to when they were first together. Thomas was explaining how he spent the previous month. Light conversation, and getting reacquainted  with another.

"I want us to be alright again, Hillary," Thomas stated.

Hillary put her finished plate down on the coffee table on top of his plate.

"Me too."

"But in order for us to do that, you need to stop seeing, Bill, unless absolutely necessary."

Internally, her heart, was screaming no, if she wanted to see Bill, she would. But her brain, her logic, agreed with Thomas. No more Bill. Not after what happened between them.


Thomas wrapped his arm around her shoulder as they spent the rest of the evening binge-watching old movies. With a blanket thrown over them and her head buried on his chest.

Half way through 'Notting Hill', Thomas turned to Hillary and spoke.

"Have you got any plans for this weekend?"

"Not that I can think of." She said "Do you want to do something together?"

"I think it'll be good for us."

"Me too." She pecked him slightly on the lips before turning back to the movie.

There was a brief silence before Thomas spoke again.

"There was another thing that is important for us to get back on the right track."

"What's that, sweetie?"

"Complete honesty," Hillary felt her heart plummet and her stomach turn "No secrets. I know it may seem obvious but secrecy is what tore us apart last time."

Hillary sat up, pausing the film, and facing her husband so their knees were almost touching.

"Complete honesty? Absolutely everything?" She asked, for reassurance.

"It's best we are open with one another than for things to be stored away." He responded.

Okay Hillary thought here we go. Like a Band-Aid.




Bill had just finished his nightly routine and was ready to climb into bed. Thunder was booming from outside, and rain was hammering against the window. Searching for the right book in just his pyjama bottoms, he suddenly heard a knock at the door.

Strange, he thought. At nearly ten at night, in the freezing cold rain, who would be bothering a former President? He ignored the door, and clambered into bed. Yet, the knocking persisted.

Ugh. It was just becoming irritating at that point, but the knocking wasn't going away.

Reluctantly, Bill made his way down the stairs, still only in his pyjama bottoms and nothing else, and slammed open the door.

"What do you want?" He said, anger in voice.

Until he saw the one and only Hillary Rodham standing in front of him. Make up smudged. Eyes red and puffy, obviously from crying. Hair and clothes soaked from the downpour of rain. And a small overnight bag in her hands.

"Hillary, what are you doing here?" His voice was filled with genuine confusion. Any anger he had had dissipated.

Her teeth were chattering, and at that moment, Hillary appeared to be too cold to formulate words.

Bill ushered her in, discarding her coat the second she was in the warmth of her home. No words had yet been spoken, and Bill was still confused at his ex-wife's arrival.

Disappearing and reappearing with a towel, Bill allowed for Hillary to dry her hair. Dry enough, they both agreed.

Saddling themselves on the kitchen bar stools, Bill finally asked the question rattling around in his mind.

"Why are you here, Hillary?"

It wasn't an accusation, nor a plead. It was merely a question of genuine curiosity.

"Thomas threw me out." Hillary stared at her hands, desperate to avoid eye contact.

"What happened?"

"He said if we truly wanted to be alright again, we needed to be completely honest with one another, no secrets."

Hillary didn't explain the rest. She didn't need to. Bill could connect the dots by himself, all very well.

What he couldn't understand, was why she came to him.

"But why are you here?"

"Because I still love you Bill."

It was the truth, as painful as it could be at times.

He swallowed, bit his lip, then nodded.

"I get it." He said, nodding once more "You don't want me as long as Thomas is available. As soon as Thomas throws you out, you come running back to me?"

Tears welled up in her eyes, not for the first time that day. She suddenly saw how it looked from his perspective.

"God, I'm so sorry," she stood from her stool "I didn't mean it like that."

"'Cause Hillary if you think I'm just going to wait for you while you go from one guy to another-" he went from his stool and stood in front of her, his tall frame towering over her "you are absolutely right."

Hillary went to say something, but before a single word escaped, his lips descended upon hers. He cradled her face in a kiss so intense, it set them both alight. They eventually, but reluctantly, pulled away from the kiss. He rested his forehead upon hers, cupping her cheeks, while she did the same to him.

"I love you Hillary Rodham." He whispered against her lips "I love you with every breath. I love you with every fibre of my being. And I'm never letting you go again. Unless you have any objections?"

"None whatsoever." She whispered back "I love you too, William Jefferson Clinton. More than I could possibly ever conceive. And I'm never leaving again."

Looping her arms around his neck, her lips connected with his, in a kiss that, unlike the former, was tender and slow. It conveyed all the love between the two. The missed moments, and the ones yet to come. The evergreen adoration between the pair that never truly faded.

As they parted, tears were pooling in both of their eyes, as they clung on to each other like each other's lifelines.

"C'mon, let's get you upstairs," Bill said, in reference to her luggage.

Hillary merely smirked in response, before leading the way, luggage long forgotten. They made love throughout the night, both passionately and tenderly. That night, the pair felt whole, once again. Complete. A feeling that previously felt foreign, but neither would ever let slip again.