Olivia: (talking about his brother's wife) End it. Now.
Will: I don't know what you're talking--
Olivia: I saw you. End it.
Will: I don't care how much we're paying you. You have no right to insert yourself into a private family... I can't. It's too late.
Will: Because I love her. The day Pete brought her home ten years ago, I wasn't even supposed to be there. I was supposed to be on a plane. Sometimes I wonder,if I had just been somewhere else... We denied it for months, because that's what you do. You deny it. You pretend it's not happening. You pretend it's all above board and it's appropriate, and the next thing you know, you're having sex in the coat closet at your brother's engagement dinner. Pete loves her. She's his wife. And she and I... well, we have what we have. It might not be much, but it's what we have.
Olivia: You have nothing. You have a pile of secrets and lies, and you're calling it love. And in the meantime, you're letting your whole life pass you by, while they raise children and celebrate anniversaries and grow old together. You're frozen in time. You're holding your breath. You're a statue waiting for something that's never going to happen. Living for stolen moments in hotel hallways and coat closets, you keep telling yourself they all add up to something real, because in your mind they have to, but they don't. They won't. They never will. Because stolen moments aren't a life. So you have nothing. You have no one. End it now.