And she says, oh
I can’t take no more
Her tears like diamonds on the floor
And her diamonds bring me down
‘Cause I can’t help her now
She’s down in it
She tried her best and now she can’t win
It’s hard to see them on the ground
Her diamonds falling down
– Her Diamonds, Rob Thomas

---

Friday, January 2, 2004

Morgan Penthouse: Living Room

Jason rubbed the back of his neck and looked at Elizabeth on the sofa before turning back to the door and Max. “It has to be right now?”

The guard looked pained as he nodded. “Mr. C said if you don’t want to come over, he’ll just head over to the Brownstone himself.”

Jason dipped his head, took a deep breath, and considered throwing Carly to the wolves and telling Sonny to go to hell. “I’ll be over in ten minutes,” he told him. “If that’s not good enough, I—” He just shook his head again, then closed the door without finishing the statement.

Elizabeth forced a smile as he rejoined her on the sofa. “I’m not going to fall apart if you leave me alone for a little while,” she told him. “I’m okay.”

Jason tucked her hair behind her ears, letting his fingertips brush her cheek. “I want to stick close,” he told her softly. “Until we know what we’re dealing with. I’m the one that doesn’t want to go.”

She leaned into his touch, holding his hand against her face. “It’s just across the hall, and you know you don’t want Carly dealing with Sonny any more than she has to right now. Especially since he’s doubling down on not getting counseling.”

“Yeah.” He grimaced. “Yeah, I know, but—”

“The appointment isn’t until this afternoon,” Elizabeth reminded him. “And Emily said she was going to come by with some stuff for the hotel and the reception.” She bit her lip. “I’ve been putting her off about my results. We haven’t really said if we’re going to talk to anyone or say anything—”

“You can tell Emily,” Jason told her. He couldn’t imagine saying anything to Sonny about it at this point—

“I was actually thinking…” Elizabeth said hesitantly, “that we don’t really know what Kelly or Monica are going to say, and I don’t know that I want to deal with a lot of questions, you know?” She twisted her engagement ring. “And…I don’t know. I was just…going to keep waiting to talk to her about it.”

“If that’s easier for you, then that’s fine with me. We’ll…” He wanted to tell her it would be okay, but he couldn’t understand how. If Elizabeth had a condition that was damaging her heart and lungs—how would they get through the rest of her pregnancy? She still had almost four months before the baby was due—

Would they deliver early? Was it possible the baby might not even make it? And what did it mean for Elizabeth if they waited to have the surgery?

Could either of them survive losing the baby now, after everything else?

“Go over and talk to Sonny. If he needs you to do something, then do it. I’m going to try to keep my mind off it,” she told him. “Maybe you could go see Carly or something. You haven’t really seen her since I started to feel worse.”

And maybe Elizabeth wanted a little space and wasn’t sure how to ask him for it. “Yeah, that’s a good idea.” He squeezed her hand. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

He kissed her before getting up and walking towards the door, then looked back—he hadn’t left her since Monica had given them the news, not wanting to let her out of his sight—but she was right. They both needed to find a way to distract themselves until they knew more about what was coming next. He finally pushed himself to leave and walk over to the other penthouse.

“Thank God,” Max said as Jason approached. “He’s been…uh…” The guard wrinkled his nose. “Annoyed.”

“Yeah, well…” Jason shoved open the door. “He’ll have to get over it.” His number one priority was his family—Elizabeth and their son—and if Sonny didn’t like that, Jason would take Elizabeth somewhere where the business and Sonny Corinthos couldn’t make things worse. If there was a chance he could save them both, he was going to do whatever had to be done.

He wasn’t going to lose her or their son. Not without a fight.

“It’s about time,” Sonny said from the sofa. He got to his feet. “Where the hell have you been all week? Bernie says you haven’t been down at the warehouse—you haven’t checked in with me—” He narrowed his eyes. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing. Things are slow at work, and if Bernie needed me, he and Justus know how to call me.” Jason shoved his hands into his jeans. “So what’s the problem? What did you want?”

“It’s been three weeks,” Sonny said. “I need you to talk some sense into Carly.” He waved his hand. “Whatever you normally do.”

Jason squinted. “Like what?” he asked, his tone clipped. “What sense are you looking for?”

“She refuses to accept my apology. I mean—” Sonny scowled. “She acts like I wanted to hurt her—like I knew it would make her—” He grimaced. “I didn’t know. And I’m tired of everyone treating me like I did it on purpose.”

“Sonny—” Jason exhaled slowly, trying to find the patience to deal with this. “You locked her in your bedroom. You did that on purpose—”

“I was—” Sonny met his eyes. “You know how I get. She knows how I get. I’m okay now. I—I took a break. I took space. I gave her time. What does she want from me? Blood? I’ll give her that—I didn’t mean to hurt her—”

“You locked her in your bedroom,” Jason repeated. “If you didn’t stop to think about how it makes her feel, then you need to get that under control—”

“I have—”

“No, you haven’t. Because Ric Lansing is still gone. He’s still out there, and that means Carly doesn’t know if it will happen again. Because you and I know that you get like that—but you don’t know why. What is this so hard for you to understand, Sonny?” Jason demanded. “You locked her in your bedroom!”

Sonny’s fists clenched at his side. “So you’re not going to help me—”

“Unless the help you want is arranging to get professional help without anyone knowing, no,” Jason said flatly. “I’m not. I don’t have the time for this, Sonny. I have other things going on—”

“Yeah, because you having a wedding is really more important than finding Ric Lansing and making sure my family is safe—”

Jason had already pulled open the door when Sonny threw out that shot, and he knew that Max had overheard the statement by the way the guard was staring straight forward, trying to look like a statue.

He turned back to look at Sonny. Once, his friend would have seen something was wrong and offered advice, offered help. But that felt like another lifetime.

“Your family is safe,” Jason told him. “And yeah, you know, my family is more important right now. Don’t call me again about this. I won’t come.”

Kelly’s: Dining Room

Dante strode through the entrance of the diner, determined to shake off the last few weeks, and put it behind him. Sonny Corinthos was still his father, but as far as Dante could tell, only he, his grandmother, and his mother knew the truth, so he was going to shove that out of his head, too.

He found his partner sitting at the counter, sipping a cup of coffee. “Hey.” Dante nodded at Lucky, took a seat next to him. “Who’s cooking today?”

“Don, which means you can probably trust anything with meat,” Lucky told him. “I still wouldn’t get the chili—” He winced as he heard something break in the kitchen, followed by a string of curses. “But, uh, you also might want to skip ordering anything that needs to be carried. Try a donut. Or a bagel.”

“Why—” Dante blinked when he heard another crash, then Lulu’s raised tones about how Don was a complete idiot that was just like all the other idiot men out to ruin the world— “Is she okay?”

“No.” Lucky thought about it for a moment, then shook his head. “No, she is not. She broke up with Dillon over break, and, well,” he gestured towards the kitchen. “You know how Lu is.”

“Yeah.” Dante remembered the first time he’d really talked to her one-on-one when he’d questioned her after Brooke’s attack, and Lulu had immediately started defending everyone she’d ever met, completely convinced Dante was out to get someone.

Lulu thought the only way to live in the world was to always be on the offense.

Lucky peered at him over the rim of the cup, raised his eyebrows. “I think you’re supposed to wait two weeks, by the way.”

“Wait two weeks for what?” Dante asked as he picked up the menu, trying to decide what to get for breakfast that wouldn’t get destroyed between the kitchen and the counter.

“They dated for four months,” Lucky continued, “and if I remember this right—you have to wait twenty-five percent of the time they were dating before you can ask her out.”

Dante scowled, slapped the menu down, and glared at him. “What are you talking about?”

“It’s possible I’m not remembering it right,” Lucky admitted. “Emily and Elizabeth didn’t know I was eavesdropping, and they were talking about some idiot Emily was dating.” He pursed his lips. “One of her many idiots in a very long line of disasters.”

“No, I didn’t mean—”

“Maybe it’s half the time.” Lucky counted on his fingers. “No—sixteen weeks is four months—no, you know what—it is twenty-five percent, but I did the math wrong. I think it’s like three weeks—”

“I don’t give a damn about the math!” Dante interrupted, throwing up his hands. Lucky snickered, picked up his coffee again.

“Who’s complaining about math?” Lulu asked, stepping out of the kitchen. “Because I have to take algebra this semester, and I am going to fail the crap out of it. Lucky—” She fluttered her eyelashes at her brother. “You’re my only hope.”

“Well, then, my dear, you’re screwed.” Lucky turned slightly, set the coffee down. “Hey—that’s Kelsey—I’m gonna go grab her before she comes in. I wanted to ask her something—”

Dante scowled after his partner as Lucky left, leaving him alone with the newly single Lulu Spencer and his stupid three week rule.

“He’s a turd,” Lulu muttered. She looked at Dante, picked up her order pad. “What do you want?”

Dante just raised his brows, and then she sighed. “I’m sorry. I hate men today. Not specific men because you’re, like—” She wiggled her fingers at him. “You’re fine. But men in general, because I ask you, Dante…why are men?”

“Why are men…” Dante furrowed his brow. “What?”

“Exactly.” Lulu sniffed. “You want your usual?”

“You give me a headache sometimes,” he told her bluntly.

“There’s a lot of that going around,” Lulu replied with a shrug. “Western omelet?”

“Uh—no, bagel with lox,” he told her, scratching his forehead. “You okay?”

“Yes.” Lulu nodded firmly. “I’m fine.” She narrowed her eyes into slits. “Why? Did someone tell you I’m not?”

“You know, I’m just not going to talk anymore,” Dante decided. He slid the menu over to her.

Lulu sighed, counted to ten, then looked at him. “I’m sorry,” she said again. “I’m not having a great week. Dillon and I broke up, and I can’t figure out why I’m mad because I did the dumping, and I should have done it weeks ago.”

She huffed. “It’s just stupid. We had a dumb fight in the movie theater over absolutely nothing, then he tried to apologize, but, like what’s the point?” Lulu turned to put his order in, before turning back to Dante. “We’ll just have the exact same argument in two weeks. And eventually, we’ll hate each other. Better to dump him now before we end up really hating each other.”

Lulu wiggled her shoulders as if casting off the topic. “How were your holidays? I bet they were worse than mine because if there’s anything worse than men, it’s family.” She pursed her lips. “No, wait, I think I talked you into going, so I hope they were better—”

“You know…” Dante exhaled slowly. “They were terrible,” he admitted. “I’m just glad they’re over.”

“Amen.” Lulu peered past him out the window. “Hey, what did Lucky want with Kelsey—” She slapped his shoulder with the order pad. “You think he’s proposing?”

“Uh—in the courtyard? In the freezing cold? Do you think Lucky would be that dumb?”

“He proposed to Elizabeth in an arcade,” Lulu told him seriously, “so yeah, he would be dumb, because, and here, we circle back to my thesis of the day—men are the worst, and women would be better off without them.”

“You know, I’m a man,” Dante told her. “As you noted earlier.”

“Fair point.” Lulu studied him for a moment, narrowing her eyes as if he were under a microscope. “You know, maybe it’s not men that are the problem. It’s boys. Boys who don’t grow up. You’re not a boy.”

“I’m going to quit while I’m ahead because I think you almost complimented me,” Dante told her, feeling a smile tug at the corner of his lips. “And I probably can’t top that today.”

Lulu grinned at him, then went to get his breakfast order. He picked up his coffee. Three weeks.

Well, maybe.

The Cellar: Office

Jason didn’t often come to Carly’s club, which had never surprised her since she usually had to blackmail him into anything that required him to dress up and be around people. So when he appeared in the doorway of her office that morning, Carly was surprised.

That surprise quickly melted into worry as she took in his pinched expression and worn out eyes. He looked so tired. Carly got to her feet. “What’s wrong?” she asked.

“Nothing.” Jason shook his head, then closed the door behind him. “I just—I haven’t seen you since Christmas.” He crossed over to the bassinet where Morgan was napping, adjusted the blanket. “How are you?”

“Fine,” she said warily. She sat down again, folded her hands on the desk. “I saw Kevin a few days ago, and he wrote me a prescription for anxiety meds.”

“Yeah?” Jason looked at her, then sat in the chair in front of her desk. “Are they working?”

“I don’t know. Kevin said they might take some time to kick in.” She raised her brows. “What’s really wrong? Is it Sonny?”

Jason winced. “No.” He paused. “No. Not exactly. A few days ago, he apparently asked Justus about getting visitation rights. Or custody. I can’t remember what Justus said. And I just—wanted to warn you.”

Carly sighed, leaned back in the chair. “Yeah, he showed up at the Brownstone on Tuesday, wanting to see the boys. I told him he could see the boys any time he wanted—as long as you were in the room with him. I’m sorry,” she added when Jason just shook his head. “I shouldn’t put you in the middle of it, I just—I knew he’d never ask you—”

She stopped, then cleared her throat. “What did Justus tell him? About getting visitation?”

“That there wasn’t a chance in hell he’d get more than supervised visits,” Jason said bluntly. “Which is probably true. He wanted me to talk to you, to convince you to forgive him.”

“Yeah, he’s starting to turn this into my fault,” Carly said wryly. She got to her feet and walked over to Morgan, just to look at him. She folded her arms. “Reminding me of all the times he’s forgiven me. I knew—” She shook her head. “I knew if he didn’t get help the first time I asked him—when it was fresh—he never would.”

“I’m sorry. I told him I agreed with you.” Jason twisted in the chair, then got to his feet. “I don’t know what else I can do.”

“There’s nothing. Sonny will never change unless he doesn’t have a choice, and if losing me and the boys didn’t do it— I don’t know what will.” Carly frowned at him. “Everything else okay? I mean—I know Sonny is being a pain, but—”

“It’s fine,” Jason said, stepping back, away from her.

Carly narrowed her eyes, then shook her head. “No—something isn’t right. Is—is Elizabeth okay? I know you guys are getting closer to the wedding. Is she resting enough? You know, it’s okay if she gets tired—you don’t have to—” She stopped abruptly as Jason looked down at the floor, then back at her. At her face, not her eyes. She remembered Elizabeth’s dizzy spell, and the oxygen she’d needed after the hearing—after helping Carly that night. “Jason.”

“It’s—I can’t talk about it. She doesn’t—” Jason exhaled slowly. “She doesn’t want to talk about it—”

“I’m not asking her,” Carly said. “And while you know, I don’t hate her guts anymore, she’s not my friend. You are. Just—” She touched his shoulder, hoping he’d meet her eyes. “Is it the baby?”

“I don’t—it’s not—” Jason grimaced. “It’s not that simple. And I can’t get into it—”

“But there is something,” Carly said softly. “And it’s bad.”

Briefly—their eyes met, and she inhaled sharply. “Jason—” He looked away.

“We’re—I can’t get into it.” He hesitated. “Even if Elizabeth was ready to talk about it, I don’t know if I can.”

“Okay,” she said. She swallowed hard. “Does Mama know?”

“No. No one—I told you, Elizabeth isn’t—we still don’t—” Jason grimaced. “I shouldn’t have said anything—”

“You haven’t said anything. But I know you better than you think I do.” She sighed. “Okay. I won’t bug you about it. Just—I love you. And I hope it all works out. Let me know if there’s anything I can do.”

“I will.” He hesitated. “I have to get going. I have—I have somewhere I need to be.”

“Okay.” Carly wanted to hug him, but Jason slipped out of her office before she could reach out.

General Hospital: Waiting Room

Elizabeth felt like she was walking in a fog. At some point, on the day Monica had delivered her diagnosis, Elizabeth’s tears had dried up, and she’d just faded away. She had tried to get through each day since, tried not to worry Jason, but she was just encased in a thick cloud that kept everything out.

Emily had pressed her on the test results that morning, but Elizabeth hadn’t told her. Couldn’t tell her. Couldn’t say anything out loud. She’d been relieved when Jason had left that morning, exhausted by pretending that she was better than she was, and was barely up to fooling Emily.

She just wanted this over with. Whatever was going to happen — she wanted it done.

“Kelly’s calling us in.”

Elizabeth blinked, looked at Jason sitting next to her quietly in the waiting room. “What?”

“For our appointment,” he told her. He rose to his feet, held out his hand. “Come on.”

She couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe.

“No.” Elizabeth squeezed her eyes closed. Shook her head. “I can’t.” Something rose in her throat, tried to bubble up, break free, but she just squeezed her eyes even harder. If she moved, it would be real. If she moved, she’d start to feel again.

Couldn’t do it.

“Hey.”

Jason’s voice was quiet, close to her ear—had he sat back down? She didn’t know. His fingers laced through hers, and his hand was shaking as he brought her fingers to his lips. “Hey,” Jason repeated. “You don’t have to do anything right now. You don’t have to move. We’ll stay right here.” Something changed in his voice, shifted, almost as if he couldn’t speak either. “I just need you to breathe. Just breathe for me.”

Her chest was tight, her lungs were burning—Oh, God, she’d actually held her breath without realizing it—

She parted her lips on a gasping breath, tears sliding down her cheeks. “I’m sorry. I can’t. I can’t go in there.”

“We won’t. We’ll stay right here.”

Elizabeth opened her eyes, then turned to find Jason sitting next to her, her hand enveloped in both of his, pressed against his chest. His eyes were red. “I can’t—she’s going to tell me I can’t have my baby—that he won’t be okay and I can’t—I can’t—I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m trying to be okay, and I’m not—”

Jason looked so lost, and it was maybe the first time she could remember when he had nothing to say. He couldn’t tell her it wasn’t true, couldn’t reassure her—he didn’t know. And to see this man—who always seemed to know what was next—not know what to do—

“I’m not okay, either,” he finally said, his voice low and rough. “I don’t want to lose this baby, but I can’t lose you. I can’t—” He stopped, shook his head, looked away.

Listening to the break in his voice—Elizabeth dragged in as deep a breath as she could manage. With her free hand, she reached across to touch his face, to gently brush away a tear on his cheek. “We’re a mess.”

He laughed then, just a short sound that lifted her spirits. “It’s one more thing I can’t fix,” he told her, meeting her eyes. “If I could—”

She loved him so much. And it wasn’t fair to always expect him to carry her. “I know. So we’ll—” She forced a smile. “We’ll just have to muddle through it together. Sitting out here isn’t going to help anything, is it?”

“Can you go in?” Jason asked her. “If you can’t—we’ll find some other way—”

“No. We need—” Elizabeth squeezed his hand, started to stand. Jason stood, then braced her elbow. “We need to do this. Promise me—” She put her hand on his forearm, just below his elbow, searched his eyes. “Promise me if there’s a way that we can still—that the baby—”

“I promise you that we will do whatever we can to save you both,” Jason told her. It wasn’t exactly what she’d wanted, but she knew she’d never get anything else from him.

“All right. Then let’s go see we’re up against.”

Kelly and Monica were talking quietly when Jason and Elizabeth made it into the office, and it was the concerned mother in Monica’s eyes as she came over to them. “Are you all right?” she asked, touching Elizabeth’s shoulder.

“Scared,” Elizabeth admitted. “I, um, had some trouble coming in. I’m—” She looked at her OB whose expression was inscrutable. “I’m really nervous.”

“I’m sure, sweetheart. Let’s take a seat and talk about what’s on the table.” Monica gestured to the seats in front of Kelly’s desk then took her normal chair at Kelly’s side. “I’m sorry we’ve had to keep you waiting a few days for this meeting.”

“I’ve had a few patients with hypertension issues,” Kelly told them, “but I’ve never dealt with CTEPH. It’s relatively rare, which means even fewer women with this condition deal with pregnancy.” She glanced at Monica for a moment before refocusing on Jason and Elizabeth. “We wanted to consult with any doctor who has treated a pregnant CTEPH patient, so we can put together the best plan.”

“Can I—” Elizabeth squeezed Jason’s hand. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to interrupt, but I just—I need to know.” With her free hand, she touched her belly, felt the baby fluttering. “Can I have this baby?”

“I’m sure that’s at the top of your worries,” Kelly told her. “That’s why Monica and I wanted to get all the answers. We both knew that keeping the baby would be the priority. However—”

Elizabeth closed her eyes, braced herself.

“It would be irresponsible of me not to lay out all of your options,” Kelly continued. “So, yes, terminating the pregnancy at this point would be the safest and healthiest thing for you. It would prevent any permanent damage to your heart and lungs and allow you to have the surgery that will likely result in a complete recovery, which means you would be able to have more children in the future.”

“Is that—” Elizabeth couldn’t form the words. Looked at Jason, who took a deep breath and nodded.

“Is that what you think we should do?” Jason asked. “Is that the only option?”

“No. It’s not. I do have to caution you that continuing your pregnancy, Elizabeth, will put a strain on your entire body and risk heart and lung damage that you might not be able to recover from easily, if it all.”

Elizabeth cleared her throat. “But I could continue—I could have the baby.”

“Yes,” Kelly said.

Her head nearly spun from the relief that swept through her body. She didn’t care about anything else. Just her son. She wanted her son.

“What Kelly and I think might be the best way forward is to closely monitor your health—even more so than we have already,” Monica added, “and prepare to deliver the baby early.”

“How—” Elizabeth bit her lip. “How early?”

“Well, since I know we’ll be looking to maximize the baby’s chance at survival,” Monica said slowly, “we could deliver as early as 28 weeks.”

“Twenty-eight—” Elizabeth faltered. “But—that’s—that’s—it’s not enough time—” She looked at Jason, who seemed stunned at the idea. “That’s barely a month away—” She covered her belly protectively.

“What—what does a baby—I mean, what happens at twenty-eight—” Jason exhaled slowly.

“What if I’m not just trying to maximize the baby’s survival?” Elizabeth asked before Kelly could answer Jason. “What if I want to wait until the baby is…what if I just want to wait?” He looked at her, and she knew he wanted to argue with her—knew that it wasn’t the question he wanted to her ask.

But once Kelly had told her she could have her son—

It was the only one that mattered.

“Full-term is forty weeks, delivering on schedule sometime in April,” Kelly said slowly, exchanging a look with Monica. “That’s not going to happen, Elizabeth. You’re already struggling with breathing. The harder it is for you to breathe, the harder it is for your heart and your other organs to get oxygen—”

“But that’s not happening yet, is it?” Elizabeth cut in.

“Elizabeth,” Jason said softly.

“It’s not—I know I have trouble breathing, but oxygen takes care of it, and—you said my oxygen levels were still normal—” Elizabeth swung her attention to Monica. “Why can’t we wait and see how I’m doing? I just—”

“I understand how scary this is, Elizabeth,” Kelly told her. “I promise you, I do. But as your pregnancy develops, the strain and demand on your organs will only increase. And hypertension can also be stressful, even damaging, on the baby’s development. It would be reckless of me to say let’s simply wait and see—”

“But—”

“Waiting until April, Elizabeth, is not an option,” Monica said flatly. Elizabeth pressed her lips together, looked at Jason’s mother, and saw the steel in her eyes. She nodded.

“Okay. What about March?”

Kelly hesitated, looked at something in front of her. “Well, you’ll be at 32 weeks at the beginning of March. Babies born around that time have a ninety-five percent survival rate, and generally need breathing support in the NICU—”

“Breathing support?” She had a vision of her son on a ventilator, gasping for air from the day he was born— “No. I don’t want that—”

“Elizabeth,” Jason said. “That might be the best chance for you both—”

“No,” she repeated. She looked at him. “I can’t watch him—I can’t—please—” She shook her head, looked at Kelly. “How do I avoid the NICU?”

Looking vaguely ill, Kelly grimaced. “You’re looking at closer to thirty-seven weeks, which is not going to be possible. Again, the effect on you—on the baby—”

“Elizabeth, I know how worried you are,” Monica began, “but I really think maybe we need to take some time think about this—”

“We don’t have to decide right now,” Jason told Elizabeth. “We can wait a few weeks, see how you’re feeling—” He squeezed her hand again. “This is good news,” he reminded her. “We thought you might not—that we might not be able to keep the baby.”

“I—” God, she knew what he wanted her to do, but Elizabeth simply couldn’t. She looked away from his pleading expression, back to Kelly. “Let’s split the difference then. Thirty-five weeks.”

“I—” Kelly leaned back, then sighed. “Yes, that would probably increase the chances the baby wouldn’t need a lot of post-natal support, and might spend no more than a night or two in the NICU, but again, I have to remind you—”

“Then thirty-five weeks. That’s the compromise. I’m not—” She looked at Jason, praying for him to see her, to understand. “As long as the baby is okay and not affected by my condition—I can’t—you can’t ask me to sacrifice a minute of my child’s life to make mine easier—”

“That’s not the choice we’re—” Jason bit off whatever he was going to say, shook his head. “What can we do in the meantime?” he asked Kelly. “To keep her and the baby as healthy as possible for as long as we can?”

“What we’ve been doing,” Monica said. “Oxygen as needed, resting, decreasing stress—we’ll need to have appointments every other week to check the baby and the function of the heart and lungs, and probably weekly as we get closer—”

“Whatever I need to do, I’ll do it. I’ll do everything you ask me to.” She met Jason’s eyes. “I promise.”

“All right.” Looking resigned, Jason nodded. “All right.”

Harborview Towers: Hallway

Max stepped off the elevator, and out of habit, looked towards Jason’s penthouse to see if Cody was outside the door — he was, but he was sitting on a stool, reading the newspaper.

“Hey, Jason and Miss Webber aren’t back?” Max asked, digging into the bag of Doritos he’d brought up from his lunch break.

“No.” Cody checked his watch then looked back at his paper. “And they don’t like me to go with them to the appointments.” He eyed Max. “Sonny home?”

“Yeah. He’s not leaving much these days.” Max leaned against the wall. “I should check in with him, make sure he doesn’t need anything.” Instead, he reached into the bag and shoved another nacho cheese chip into his mouth.

Cody raised his brows, closed the paper. “But you’re not?”

“Nope. Last time I made that mistake, he made me drive him to the Brownstone. He got all huffy with Mrs. C and then fired me three times before we got back to the Towers.” Max shook his head. “Don’t ask, don’t get fired, that’s my policy.”

“How much longer do you think this is gonna last?” Cody got to his feet, kicking the stool back into the corner. “This—” He gestured at the hallway. “Do you really think any of this is okay?”

Max hesitated. “Any of what?” he said carefully.

“The way the boss is acting. What happened with Mrs. C.”

“And the way he talks to Miss Webber or Jason?” Max said dryly. “Look, Cody—” He looked back towards Sonny’s penthouse. “Nothing’s been right since Ric Lansing showed up.”

“They should have shot him when they had the chance,” Cody said, darkly. “He never would have hurt Miss Webber or Mrs. C.”

“Yeah, well, they didn’t, and now we’re all miserable. Maybe things will be better after the baby’s here. I’m sure Jason is just wound up all tight because of these doctor appointments. Miss Webber will have the kid, Sonny will get it together. Just like always.” Max squared his shoulders. “All right—I’m gonna go—”

He stopped when the phone in his pocket buzzed. Oh, man, he hoped this wasn’t Sonny. He was not in the mood for another sojourn to the Brownstone, which was the only place Sonny went these days.

“Oh, crap, it’s Tommy,” Max muttered. “He’s probably here about the PCPD raid on New Year’s—”

“I thought they didn’t find anything—”

“They didn’t, but Tommy’s always got his panties in a twist—” Max flipped open his phone. “Hey, Tommy! What’s up? You catch that Bills game—”

“Shut up, Giambetti. I’m in the lobby. Let me up. Wally says you need to clear me. This some bullshit when I gotta be cleared by a glorified fucking babysitter—”

Max pressed the phone to his chest, wincing. “He wants to come up.”

“Well, you got two choices. Don’t let him up, Tommy flips out downstairs and is still throwing a hissy fit when Jason and Miss Webber get back or—”

“Let him talk to Sonny and throw a hissy fit about respect and the old days.” Max scowled. “Those are terrible options.”

“Either way, Tommy throws a tantrum. Better make it Sonny’s problem and not Jason’s.”

“Fine.” Max put the phone back to his ear as Tommy continued to rant. “Lemme talk to Wally.” He cleared the club manager and then closed the phone. “I should have called in sick,” he muttered as he went over to the other penthouse and knocked on the door.

“Yo, Mr. C—” Max opened the door slightly—frowning as he saw Sonny in the same spot he always did — lounging on the sofa with a bourbon. Boss was drinking a lot these days, which did not bode well for anyone. Man, he wished Sonny would do whatever Mrs. C asked him to do so she could come home.

Sonny was always nicer when his family was around.

“Tommy’s coming up. Wants to talk to you about something.”

Sonny frowned, got to his feet, strode towards the doorway. “Yeah? Where’s Jason? It’s his job to handle these things.”

“Uh, I think he’s at the doctor with Miss Webber.” Max glanced over his shoulder to Cody, who was at the elevator. “Right?”

“Yeah, they had a doctor’s appointment or something—”

“He just went a few days ago—damn it, do I have to do everything around here?”

Max frowned because Sonny had done nothing for weeks, and Cody barely hid a snort. He threw his fellow guard a dirty look. The last thing they needed was for Sonny to see Cody’s disrespect.

The doors opened, and Tommy strode out, a barrel-chested man who’d been in the business for nearly two decades—first with the Jeromes, then Frank Smith, and had been managing Sonny’s clubs and the bookies since Smith’s death. He had no patience for anyone and was Max’s least favorite person in the world.

“What the fuck is going on?” Tommy demanded. “The PCPD raids my club on the biggest fucking drinking night of the year, and you don’t check in?” He glared at the boss, who scowled right back at him. “Where the hell have you been?”

Sonny pressed his lips together as he stood in the doorway, but Max hadn’t missed the flare of confusion—Sonny hadn’t known about the PCPD raid, which meant Jason hadn’t told him.

That…was interesting. And so very bad.

“You didn’t get arrested, did you?” Sonny said shortly. “The club get shut down?”

“No, but—”

“So, you’re pissy because I didn’t come down personally to pat your head for doing your fucking job?” Sonny lifted his chin. “I don’t have to handle any of this shit. That’s why I’m in charge. Go yell at Jason—”

Tommy’s face flushed as the ire grew. “I’m not talking to some underling—I don’t work for fucking Jason Morgan?”

“You keep talking to me like that, and you won’t be working for me either. Max—” Sonny flicked his eyes to Max, who straightened immediately. “Tell Jason to handle whatever the hell Tommy’s issues are.”

Then slammed his door, disappearing back into the penthouse. Tommy started to step forward, but Cody grabbed his arm.

“Tommy—”

“That little piece of shit—doesn’t he know who I am?” Tommy whirled around on Cody. “Get your hands off me—”

“Tommy,” Max said, his tone more gentle than Cody’s clipped one. “Look, tensions have been high lately. I know that. I’ll talk to Jason when he comes in. He’ll work this out with Sonny.”

“I’m not—” Tommy exhaled slowly. “I already talked to him, but that isn’t how things are done—”

Cody started to say something, but then the elevator doors slid open—Jason and Elizabeth stepped off. Max was relieved because he knew Jason would make this okay—he always knew how to soothe Tommy’s ruffled feathers—

But they could all see something was wrong with the couple as soon as they left the elevator. Elizabeth blinked at the cluster of men outside of Sonny’s—and Max knew this was not the time. Her eyes were red, and she looked like she’d been crying. Jason didn’t look much better.

“Jason—” Tommy began as he stepped forward. “You need to—”

“Yo, Tommy—” Max grabbed the man’s arm, shook his head. “Not now.”

With a resigned sigh, Jason looked down at Elizabeth, squeezed her hand. “I’ll be right in, okay?”

Cody leaped forward to quickly unlock the penthouse door and shove it open so that Elizabeth could go inside without waiting—she didn’t say a word to anyone, but the air had changed in the small hallway. It felt smaller, darker.

“We don’t need you tonight,” Jason told Cody. “Sorry to make you wait around.”

“No problem—”

But Jason had already dismissed Cody from his mind—and looked at Tommy, who looked more unsure than he had before. “If this is about the raid, I’m sorry. I didn’t tell Sonny yet. I’ve been—can we do this tomorrow?”

And because none of them had ever seen Jason looking quite that tired or upset, Tommy just nodded wordlessly. “Uh, sure. Sure. You good, Jase?”

Jason didn’t answer and just disappeared into the penthouse. Cody looked after the pair of them before looking back at Tommy and Max.

“Uh, you tell Jason I’m sorry,” Tommy muttered. “It’s fine. I don’t need—it’s fine,” he repeated. He scrubbed a hand over his face. “And, uh, I hope everything is okay.”

“Yeah, yeah.” The guards waited for Tommy to get on the elevator—once the doors had slid closed, Max exhaled an uneasy breath. “You know what? I’m not telling Sonny Jason is home. Not right now. Don’t knock, don’t make trouble. My revised policy.” He looked at Cody, who was still looking at the closed penthouse doors. “Cody. All of this — it’s not our business.”

The younger man focused on him. “What?”

“The personal stuff—” Max shook his head. “Not our problem. We got one job. I keep Mr. C alive, and you make sure Miss Webber is okay. Right?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I know. That’s what Jason said last year when he assigned me. She comes first.” Cody nodded.

Max squinted at him, but then returned to his post.

Morgan Penthouse: Living Room

Elizabeth had already removed her jacket when Jason came in a few minutes after her. She looked at him. “Everything okay?”

“I don’t know.” Jason dropped his keys on the desk, peeled off his leather jacket, picked up her white jacket, and hung them both up. “There was a raid on one of Tommy’s clubs. I didn’t tell Sonny about it.” He met her eyes. “Tommy was probably pissed, but I don’t really care.”

Elizabeth bit her lip. “You’re mad at me,” she said softly. He’d barely spoken since they’d left the hospital.

“No—” Jason shook his head. He put his hands on her shoulders, rubbing lightly before trailing his hands down her arms to take her hands in his. “Not mad. Just—” He hesitated. “I think that asking you to make any decisions today was expecting too much. We both went into this appointment expecting the worst—I don’t blame you for wanting to wait as long as you can.”

“Maybe you don’t blame me,” Elizabeth said hesitantly, “but you also don’t agree either.” She met his eyes. “You want me to change my mind.”

“I think…that we both need to sit with this for a while,” Jason said. “Like you said, as long as you rest and follow Kelly’s instructions, we can put off this decision—”

“But I’ve made my decision,” Elizabeth told him. “I can’t—if I can wait, I don’t know why I wouldn’t—”

“I—”

“You’ve talked about how hard it is for you to watch me struggle for air. That my panic attacks—the oxygen masks—” Elizabeth searched his eyes. “You know how hard that is for you to go through. It’s even worse for me to feel that way. So I think you might understand that there is no way I’m going to make a choice that puts our son in that position. I can’t watch him struggle to breathe—”

“Okay.” Jason drew her against him, wrapping her tightly in his arms. “I know. I don’t want it either. I just—” He pulled back, tipped her face up. “There are no easy choices,” he admitted.

“This one is easy—for me,” Elizabeth added. “I can’t—I can’t lose another child. Not now. What if we deliver early and there are complications—what if he doesn’t make it? How could I ever live with myself?” She drew in a deep breath. “There’s no point for us to argue about it.”

Jason pressed his lips together, then nodded. “I guess not. Not if you’ve made up your mind.”

“I have. As long as I can stand to wait, that’s what I want to do. So—” She smiled at him. “In a few weeks, we’ll get married. That’s what I want to focus on, you know? I promise I’ll rest, and most of the work is done anyway. I also—” She bit her lip. “Can we wait to tell anyone until after?”

Jason blinked, frowned. “Why? Emily’s already been leaving messages—”

“Because I don’t want to have people looking at me with pity or worry. Not when I just want to focus on being happy.” She fisted her hand in his t-shirt. “I just want to be happy, Jason. We can’t do anything to change this before the wedding, so can we just not talk about it?”

He looked like he wanted to argue, but then he just sighed. “Yeah. Okay. Okay. We’ll…let it go for now.” He kissed her forehead. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

← Chapter 69 | Chapter 71 →