Written in 58 minutes.

“When the conservatorship is dissolved, we’ll ask Justus to draw up divorce papers.”

The words lingered in the air for long moment, Jason simply staring at Elizabeth as if she’d suddenly grown a second head. She wrinkled her nose. “That sounded dramatic, didn’t it? I’m sorry—”

“You want a divorce?” Jason said, furrowing his brow, trying to understand where he’d lost the thread of the conversation. He thought he’d been doing much better noting social cues from others — the way Luke always seemed just a little bit irritated with the world, or how Sonny hid his penchant for controlling others by maintaining an air of detachment or disinterest. And Elizabeth — he’d spent the most time with her and she wore nearly every emotion on her face, in her eyes, on her lips.

But a divorce? They’d been together for weeks, sharing the same bed, at the bar—just that morning—

“Not the way it sounds. I’m so sorry. I don’t know why I said it that way.” Elizabeth kicked off her shoes, then padded into the kitchen, tugging open the fridge for a can of soda. “Maybe because I’ve been thinking about it for a few weeks—”

Weeks. She’d been thinking about ending everything for weeks. His head swam and suddenly everything Jason thought he’d understood or even mastered since he’d woken up with nothing to call his own, not even his name. None of this made any sense—

But Elizabeth had continued talking, somehow unaware that Jason was having some sort of existential crisis just a few feet away.

“—and I’ve wanted to bring it up to you a thousand times, but I always lost my courage. I’m not even sure I’m explaining this well—” She cracked open the soda,  then turned and looked at him for the first time since she’d said. Something in his expression must have given it away. “I don’t—I mean, I don’t want us to stop—to stop being us.”

“Maybe I don’t understand what divorce means then,” Jason said slowly. “Because—”

“I married Jason Quartermaine,” Elizabeth said, and he stopped. “A really nice guy who didn’t always stand up for me the way I wanted him to, but who loved me enough that I didn’t really notice it most of the time. We were happy, and I think—” She smiled faintly, looking at her rings. “I think we would have made it. A week ago, I wasn’t so sure about that. But you went to that lawyer and AJ—I’m glad I went. It gave me back that sweet boy, and I think I can let him go now.”

“But I’m him,” Jason said, a bit hesitantly.

“You are. But you didn’t want to be, and you shouldn’t feel obligated to be, either. I know that we’ve built something there that’s just ours, but I’m afraid—” She set the soda aside, then twisted her wedding ring again. “I’m afraid that I might always wonder just a little bit if you’re here because you were already sort of stuck with me and you like me well enough—”

Insulted, Jason opened his mouth to argue and defend himself, but she continued talking. “And you might wonder sometimes if I love you or who you used to be. Are we really here because we want to be?” She folded her arms, bit her lip. “I guess maybe I’m hoping we can give each other a fresh start. A real one. Justus said when this all started that we need to take this choice back for ourselves, and I’m glad I did. That I didn’t just let the Quartermaines steamroll over us. I know it hasn’t happened yet, but we’re going to win in court, and you’re going to be free. I want you to really be free, Jason.”

“I am free right now. I’m where I want to be,” Jason said, stepping towards her. “You don’t have to do this—”

“I believe you.” Her smile was nervous, but real when she closed the distance between them, slid her arms around his waist, loosely clasping her hands at the small of his back. “And I hope you believe me. But I never want there to be any questions.”

He didn’t hate the idea when she talked about it this way — all he’d ever wanted was to make his own choices, and hadn’t he come back to her a little bit because of the history they shared that he would never be able to reclaim.

“Lila told me once I had all the pieces of the puzzle of who I used to be, I’d have to decide which pieces to keep.” He reached for her hands, still wrapped his back and brought them up between them, looked down at the ring he didn’t remember giving her. The bracelet she wore that he had no memory of. “Son, grandson, brother, cousin, medical student, husband….father.”

“And what do you think now?”

“I think maybe none of those pieces are mine now,” Jason said finally. “Most of them don’t mean anything to me, but—” He looked past her to the shelf where the photo of Jason and Cady sleeping on the sofa, the one that had triggered a cascade of emotions that he’d only barely begun to understand. “But I’m only going to regret losing one of them. The rest — I could have if I want. But I don’t ever get to be her father again, and I’m sorry for it.”

“So am I. I envied you not remembering, not feeling this black hole in the center of your world—” Her voice faltered and he looked back, met her eyes. “It kept growing and growing, swallowing me whole, until there was no light left to remind that there was anything left to live for. I wished I could bash my head on a rock and just make it go away. But—”

He brushed a tear from her cheek using the pad of his thumb, and she leaned into his touch. “But it wasn’t a black hole after all. Just a shadow. Like the way night crawls over everything, disappearing the light and joy and good in the world. But eventually, the night ends. And I can remember the good. The way I felt when I was pregnant, her kicks—” Elizabeth pressed a hand to her belly. “I had nine more months with her, you know. I carried her everywhere and kept her safe. Then she was gone. And it took a long time for me to forgive myself for not keeping her safe anymore. I’m sorry you don’t get to remember her. The joy of waiting for her to arrive, the wonder at what we’d created, and even the despair of losing her. I’m so sorry I ever wished that I could lose that.”

She cleared her throat. “I think maybe that’s really why I want that fresh start. Why I need it. I hope you can understand it.”

“At the Quartermaines, they kept looking for who I used to be. For the Jason they wanted me to be. You did, too, in the beginning,” he said, and she nodded, bit her lip. “I thought I could just tell you that it was separate and have it be true. It was, mostly. But sometimes, yeah, I wondered if you’d be here if we hadn’t been married before the accident. If we had had these legal issues to deal with. So if you think getting a divorce will fix that, or help, we should do it.”

Elizabeth smiled, leaned up to kiss him. He cradled her jaw, deepening the embrace until she sank against him, and he had to wrap his arms around her to keep her standing. “But first, we have to finish what we started,” Jason said, stepping back slightly. “There’s still time to call the sky diving place—”

“I am never jumping out of plane. You can just forget about that.”

—

Across town, another father was standing in front of his family, with an announcement of his own. Monica sat on the sofa, her eyes rimmed with red, her mouth pinched, with a sour expression etched into her features.

“I’ve hired a lawyer of my own to represent me in the probate hearing,” Alan said, and Edward scowled, nearly pushed himself to his feet but a quick look from his wife stopped him.

Ned, lounging by the window, lifted his brows. “Why? You and Grandfather have a spat?”

“I won’t blame Monica entirely for what’s happened in the four or five months.” Alan smiled sadly. “The last few years. I made a judgment about Elizabeth, finding her to be unworthy of my son. Not good enough for the man I wanted him to be. I thought that as his father I had a right to weigh in on that decision, to press my thumb on the scales to achieve the outcome that I deemed just.”

“Spare me the speech,” Monica muttered.

“I didn’t give her a chance. She was barely good enough to be your friend, Emily, but to be a member of this family? To stand by Jason’s side as he took on the medical world and became a shining star? No. She couldn’t be. So I meddled. I schemed. I pushed, and I pushed Jason right out the door. Even before the accident, he could barely be here without one of us making a scene. I deprived myself of time that I will never get back. My son is never coming home.”

“This is all well and good, you know, but you owe an apology to Elizabeth,” Emily said, sitting stiffly in an armchair, her eyes stony. “A huge one.”

“I know that. I chose to believe Monica’s story that Jason wanted a divorce. I turned a blind eye to the ragged edges of her facts, and ignored how they didn’t quite fit together. They were good enough to confirm what I already believed, so I went after the power of attorney to maintain control of my son in he hospital. And when Father suggested we take this further, to protect Jason’s estate, to make his wishes permanent, I didn’t hesitate. I ought to have.”

He paused. “I’ll be asking my lawyer to petition to dissolve the conservatorship. I’m asking you, Father, to stand down. Not to object. Jason shouldn’t have to waste one more minute of his life fighting either one of us for the right to make his own decisions.” His lips twisted. “He’s been doing that too long.”

Edward made a face, but looked at Lila again, and inclined his head. “I’ll direct our lawyer to do the same,” he said finally. “Jason seems capable of making his own choices. Terrible choices,” he muttered, “but he’s capable nonetheless.”

“Mother?” Emily prompted when Monica said nothing. “Do you have anything you want to say?”

Monica just snorted, rose to her feet. “Why? And take some of the attention from Father of the Year? Jason would have seen her for the social climbing, gold digging bitch eventually, and turning control of his trust fund back over to him is a mistake—”

“I created that trust fund so that Jason would never have to beg for anything. When Father was poised to prevent Jason from having any piece of this family because he was born out a wedlock,” Alan said, giving Edward a dirty look. “I should have remembered that. How hard I had to fight to give my son the life, wealth, and name he ought to have been entitled to by birth.”

“If you think I’m going to apologize for using every resource at my disposal to do right by my son, you’ll be waiting until hell freezes over.” Monica lifted her chin. “I did what I did for the right reasons, and no one will ever convince me otherwise. Do whatever you want. Just don’t blame me when it all goes horribly wrong.”

She left the room then, and Emily just said. “You know, I’m glad I’m adopted. And that Jason is — at least on his mother’s side.” She got to her feet. “I love you all, I really do. But there are days when I’m glad your blood doesn’t run through my veins.” She looked at her father. “You’re doing the right thing, Dad, but it’s too little too late. Jason will never forgive you for this.”

“I know. But it’s the only way I know how to right any of these wrongs. I’m sorry, Emily, that we so often fail to live up to the family you deserve.”

“Yeah, well, I guess life could have been worse. I could have ended up adopted by the Manson family,” she muttered, and left the room.

“Father—”

“You have to know when to fold,” Edward said gruffly. “Better to retreat then to be beaten with witnesses. We’ll lose in court. At least this way, I don’t have to sit in front of a judge and listen to a lecture. Put your lawyer in touch with mine. We’ll get it done.”

—

A few days later, it was Tuesday night, one of the slower nights at the club. Elizabeth didn’t need a second bartender on shift, but Jason thought he was beginning to wear her down on sky diving lessons and had shown up after the happy hour rush with new facts to convince her.

“Fatalites occur in less than 1 per 100,000 cases,” Jason said, sliding the pamphlet over to her. “And serious injuries are 2 in 10,000—”

“See, that second thousand number is much smaller — and someone has to be the one or the two.” Elizabeth leaned over the bar, smirked at him. “You are never, in a million years, getting me on one of those rinky planes thousands of feet in the air—”

“But just think about how much better the rush will be,” Jason argued. “The wind roaring in your ears, so loud you can’t think—you don’t think that’s worth the risk?”

“I like going fast. On the ground—”

“Skydiving is statistically safer than driving—”

“I told you teaching him to read would be a mistake,” Luke quipped, a cigar sticking out of one side of his mouth. He came past Elizabeth to pour himself a glass of whiskey. “Kid, when are you going to give it up—”

“I just haven’t found the right facts.” Jason looked at a different brochure, scanning it. Elizabeth snickered, went to the end of the bar to fill an order.

Luke followed her. “When are you going to put that boy out of his misery and go on the plane?”

She rolled her eyes, pressed the button for the blender. After she’d delivered the margarita to the customer, she looked at her boss. “What makes you think I’m going to fold?”

“Darlin’, I’ve known you way too long. You’re going to cave.”

She shrugged. “I guess we’ll find out someday.”

“Skydiving,” Jason began when she returned to his side of the bar, “is safer than driving—more than three million people go skydiving every year—” he broke off when Justus slid onto the stool next to him. “Hey. I thought we weren’t meeting you until tomorrow.”

“Got a late note from the court.” Justus tossed a sheaf of legal papers on the bar. Jason picked them up, his eyes widening.

“Is this what I think it is?”

Elizabeth leaned over. “What?”

“Petition to dissolve the conservatorship filed by Alan and Edward—they both caved?” Jason wanted to know.

“Yeah, I thought for sure we’d get a dramatic scene when we had mediation in a few days. You didn’t even get to confront Monica with what we found out from AJ. And now you don’t need to.” Justus made a face. “I was kind of looking forward to seeing the face crack when she realized we were on to.”

“Feel free to do it on my behalf, but I don’t need to tell Monica it was a lie. She knows it was. I know it was. And it wouldn’t make me feel better.” Elizabeth shrugged. “She’ll just defend herself. But you said Ned was asking the right questions, and Alan must have had his doubts.”

Justus looked at Jason. “It’ll take a week for the hearing, but it’s basically over. The court isn’t going to hold you to something that even the conservators don’t want. Do you want to schedule a meeting with the Qs?”

“Why? I wanted them out of my life. You’re making that happen. As long as Elizabeth gets her money back, I’m good.”

“Well, you’ll need to sign papers for the trust fund—”

“I don’t want that,” Jason said immediately. “Any of it. Tell them to keep their money. And everything else—”

“Well—” Justus lifted his brows. “You did say you were hoping to get a little revenge on the family for the way they’d treated Elizabeth.”

“What?” Elizabeth blinked, looked at Jason who just returned her look a bit defiantly. “When did you say that?”

“A while ago. And yeah, I do. Why, do you have any ideas?”

“Oh. I have a few. And if Sonny’s around, maybe he’ll be interested in what I have to say.”

“I do like a plot twist,” Luke decided. “Let me go get him.”

“While you’re cooking that up,” Elizabeth said to Justus, “can you make time to do something else for us?”

“Anything.”

“Divorce papers,” Jason said. He laid a hand over Elizabeth’s on the bar. “And a name change.”

+26

Written in exactly 60 minutes. Exhausted, lol. Enjoy the cliff hanger 😛

Elizabeth leaned up to tug a plate from the third shelf of the cabinet, then jolted when Jason’s arms slid around her waist and he pulled her back against him, kissing the pulse point beneath her ear.

“One of these days, you’re going to do that, and I’m going to break something—” She set the plate on the counter, and then twisted in his arms, wrinkling her nose when she realized he’d changed into jeans and a t-shirt instead of staying in his usual sweat pants on their days off. “Oh, right, I forgot.”

She wiggled out of his embrace, then went to the toaster where her bagel was waiting. “You’re driving down to Silver Linings today.”

“Justus is picking me up in twenty minutes.” Jason leaned against the fridge, watched her concentrate on buttering the bagel with more focus than anyone had ever used on a bread product. “I could tell him to wait. You could go.”

“We’re not still having this conversation. I told you a week ago when you had this idea, three days ago when you scheduled it, and last night—”

“Last night, you distracted me before I could ask you, which is why—” Jason gestured to the space between them. “I’m standing on this side of the kitchen.”

“Only because I moved over here.” She bit into the bagel, and he just lifted his brows. “My answer isn’t going to change.”

“Okay.” Jason left the kitchen, went over to the sofa where he’d left his boots the night before after work. Elizabeth watched his suspiciously, wondering what he was going to try next.

“I don’t know what the point is in asking AJ what happened that day. He was too drunk to know better.”

“Probably true. But we need to cross him off. Justus says if we can show that the Quartermaines had any malicious intent in the conservatorship, it’ll sway the judge.” Jason tied the last lace, then straightened. “And isn’t that the point of all this? To do whatever we can to get this thrown out so it just can be over?”

“I know.” She stared down at the bagel. Jason needed to see him, and that was fine for him. But she could die happy never being in the same room again.  “You said Monica is the one who extended his stay?” she asked reluctantly, setting the plate aside, washing her hands to remove traces of butter and crumbs. She’d lost her appetite.

“Yeah. At least that’s what Ned says, and he hasn’t been wrong before. Why?”

“Well, I guess if that’s true—than that probably means AJ knows something. Or that Monica thinks he knows something.” She made a face. “You think he’ll tell you?”

“Why wouldn’t he?”

“Because you don’t know if he’s lying. He could make something up—” Elizabeth folded her arms, looked down at her toenails. The pink polish was starting to chip. “I feel like I’m finally starting to let go of all that,” she said finally. She looked up, met his eyes. “Like I’m turning a page. I don’t want to keep going back to that day—to that time. I want it to be over. Don’t you?”

“I do. After this over, I never want to think about the Quartermaines again,” Jason said. “But we need enough to throw this whole thing out. I know it’s harder for you. You still remember everything, and if seeing AJ messes any of that up for you, I don’t want you to go. You’ve done more than enough to stop this conservatorship—”

“I just—I don’t want him to screw with your head. I know you’re not the same. I know you don’t let anyone guilt trip — especially people you don’t know or like. But—” Elizabeth just shook her head. “Can you call Justus? Ask him to push back leaving for another twenty? I can be ready in a half hour, maybe forty minutes.”

“Elizabeth—”

“I made a promise to who you used to be,” she said quietly and he closed his mouth. “I’ve kept it this long — no point in running when the finish line is in sight.”

“I mean it, you being happy is more important—” Jason started, but she crossed the room, stopped in front of him, slid her hands up his chest. “Don’t distract me—”

“Maybe this is one last ghost I have to confront.” She leaned up on her toes, pressed her lips against his. “Call Justus.”

“Are you sure?”

“No, but that’s why I have to go. No more running. If I can do that—” She nodded towards the second bedroom, still closed. “I can do anything, right?”

He cupped her face, kissed her again. “Okay. I’ll call Justus.”

——

The ride to Silver Linings was nearly an hour, and Jason spent it restlessly looking out the window, wishing he’d been the one to drive. Elizabeth was in the backseat, looking through paperwork, and Justus behind the wheel.

The rehab center was a sprawling campus of buildings — Justus pulled off the main road onto a long driveway, then around three or four more cream-colored brick buildings before parking in one of the lots that ringed the campus area.

There wasn’t much conversation as the trio headed for the visitor’s building. Justus signed them in and Jason clipped a blue badge to his shirt. Two turns down another set of halls, and into a large room with circular tables.

Near the windows sat a man with shaggy blond hair. He was looking out the window, but he was sitting alone — one of the few people in the room on their own.

“AJ?” Jason asked, nodding towards him. Elizabeth’s mouth pinched, and he sighed. “All right, let’s get this over with.”

AJ rose when he saw them approach. He was of similar height to Jason, average build, though less muscle.

“I wasn’t sure if you’d show up,” he said, holding out a hand for just a moment before running it through his hair. He looked at Elizabeth. “I—I didn’t know you were coming.”

“To keep you honest,” she said coolly, taking a seat at the table. “Jason doesn’t know you like I do.”  Jason sat next to her, and Justus pulled out the chair next to him.

“No, I suppose that’s true. ” AJ returned to his own seat. “Justus said you had some questions about the accident. I, uh, don’t know what I can do to help—”

“Your blood alcohol was never tested,” Justus said, and AJ frowned at him. “How drunk were you?”

“I don’t know. I never knew that. I just kept drinking until the world went away. Stopped counting how many drinks that took back in high school.” He cleared his throat. “Why does it matter—”

“Alan and Edward filed for a conservatorship. Jason can’t legally enter or break contracts or make any medical decisions without their permission,” Elizabeth cut in. “And they say they did it because Jason told Monica before the accident he wanted to divorce me.”

AJ’s eyes widened. “A conservatorship? Whoa. That’s—that’s crazy even for them. That’s the legal thing where you’re basically powerless? Man—” He clasped his hands together. “That’s wild. And—” He squinted, looked at Justus. “Monica says Jason wanted a divorce?”

“That’s their basis for filing for divorce as conservators,” Jason said, drawing AJ’s attention back to him. “We know that I didn’t want it. But we can’t prove that Monica knew the divorce papers I brought were fake.”

“Divorce papers? Geez. Well, I don’t know anything any divorce papers, but she sure as hell knew you didn’t want a divorce,” AJ said.

“How can you be sure? You were drunk enough to get behind the wheel—”

“I didn’t need to be plastered to do that. Just…just loaded enough to think I wasn’t drunk,” AJ admitted. He stared down at his hands. “I’m sorry, Elizabeth, for what I’ve put you through—”

“If you’re sorry, then you’ll tell me—tell us what happened that day.” Elizabeth lifted her brow. “And don’t leave anything out.”

“Oh. Well, I can try. I don’t know what happened before I got there, just that I heard shouting from the family room—”

AJ hesitated just before he reached the doorway. The last thing he needed was another lecture from his mother or brother about ruining his life and the people around him—but maybe they wouldn’t even notice him if they kept arguing—

“You’re an unnatural child, do you know that?” Monica demanded. AJ peered around the edge of the doorframe, saw his mother stalk across the room towards Jason standing by the terrace. “To do this to your own mother—”

“What about what my mother is doing to me? Or does the guilt only work one way?” Jason demanded. “Did you think about that before you told the Sun’s reporter that Elizabeth was going back to work? Before you told them our apartment number?”

“These accusations, Jason! How can you think I would do that to you—”

“Because no one would, Mother. Even Grandfather has his limits.”

“This is such an awful thing to say to me. To do—what kind of person goes to all this trouble just to lie to their mother?” Monica lifted a chunk of papers, shaking them in his face. “Have you no shame? No decency?”

“You weren’t so mad when you thought they were the truth—you were so eager to believe the worst about Elizabeth that you didn’t even bother to realize these were your words. Not mine.”

Monica scowled. “She’s done this. She’s put you up to this—”

“She doesn’t even know I’m here. Or that you were behind this last stunt. Wasn’t it enough that you told them when we were burying her?” Jason bit out. “Wasn’t it enough for you when that reporter accused Elizabeth of drinking and driving, killing our daughter?”

“You’re just angry because that woman has twisted you up so much that you’re facing assault charges—” Monica tried to go around Jason, back to the desk, but Jason grabbed her elbow swung her back. “

“Those charges went away when I filed my own. Harassment and stalking. But I knew he didn’t get that information out of nowhere. You were the only one that knew Elizabeth was going back to work that day. The only one I told!”

“I’m sure—well, that can’t be true—”

“It is! You set her up to be confronted all over again when she was just starting to feel better!”

“Well, maybe she doesn’t deserve to feel better!” Monica spat. “She’s the reason we put an infant in the ground—”

Something crashed and shattered, and AJ moved into the doorway to see better. Jason had reached for one of the crystal decanters of water they kept in the library — right next to all that lovely vodka, and he’d thrown it across the wall. Jagged shards and water stained the carpet.

“That is the last time you’ll ever speak about my daughter that way. About my wife. I thought if I confronted you, if I could make you believe that I would leave Elizabeth, you’d confess and take credit for finally winning, but I don’t need you to confess. Because it won’t change what a cold, unfeeling bitch you are—”

“And then he turned and he—you—,” he said to Jason, “saw me in the doorway.”  AJ rubbed his neck. “Mom started freaking out, accusing me of drinking—I mean, yeah, I had been, but she needed to start discrediting me. Why do you think I’m here?” He gestured around them. “In exchange for an advance for my trust fund, I got ninety days here.”

Justus tipped his head. “And when did that turn into one hundred and twenty?”

“Around Easter. Mom said if I stayed in here longer and didn’t come home and tell anyone what I heard, well, she’d make sure I got another advance.” AJ looked at his hands. “But you know, I didn’t go home and tell anyone. You came to me. And anyway, I’m gonna lie to the guy I put in the hospital? No way. Maybe she paid me to come here—but I’m trying. I want—I don’t want to do this to another family—”

“You shouldn’t have needed to bash Jason’s brains against a rock to learn that lesson,” Elizabeth said, speaking up for the first time since AJ had recounted his memory of that day. “Our daughter should have been enough.”

“That’s what Jason said that day. When he tried to stop me from leaving. Cady was enough, he said. Enough for a life time. He’d never pick up another drink as long as he lived. But I wasn’t in the mood to be lectured to. You were picking at me because I was drunk at one in the afternoon. Like I cared about the clock,” AJ said dismissively. “I told you to go to hell and suck up to Mom some more, because even though you were mad at her, it wouldn’t last. It never did. Then I left. You followed, and well—” He trailed off. “Sorry isn’t enough.”

“It’s really not,” Elizabeth said. She shoved away from the table. “Finish whatever you need to do. I’ll wait at the car.” She left the room.

Jason looked at AJ, at the man who was supposed to be the brother, then shook his head. “We have nothing to say to each other. Justus?”

“I’ll take care of it.” When Jason had followed Elizabeth, Justus slid a pad of paper across the table. “I need you to write that down, and I’ll be back with affidavit to sign for court. With what you’ve told me, we should have enough to make the Quartermaines drop the conservatorship.”

“It’s the least I owe them—”

“You could try for a thousand years, AJ, and never come even close to what you owe. That’s not a debt you settle,” Justus said. “So don’t bother trying.”

—

Monica finishing making notes in her planner, looked up when Alan came into their bedroom, a familiar set of papers in his hands. “What—what are those?”

“I’ve read these over and over and over since Ned gave them to us.” Alan looked down at them then at his wife. “You told me that first night in the hospital that Jason wanted a divorce. And I believed you because you were so upset. And I still hoped Jason would wake up. Why would you tell such a disprovable lie? So I made sure we’d find a way to respect Jason’s wishes. Father and I—”

“Don’t you dare blame me for that conservatorship—”

“It was the only way we’d get enough control to get Elizabeth out of his life. But—but Jason never wanted that? Did he?” Alan demanded when Monica said nothing. “I read this—it’s fantasy. Father pointed out quite rightly that there’s language in there that Jason never, on his worst day, would have used against Elizabeth. Calling her an alcoholic, accusing her of taking his money. Believing she’d caused the accident—that’s where you want too far—even Father knew how staunch Jason was in his support of Elizabeth. You don’t go from that to believing the opposite overnight.”

“What exactly are you accusing me of?” Monica rose, fisting her hands at her side. “What do you think I’ve done?”

“Written papers up to support this story you’ve been telling us for month.” Alan flung the papers towards her. She didn’t reach for them—they fell to the carpet between them. “You pushed me time and time again to think of Elizabeth as nothing more than another Nikki Langton—”

“She’s worse. Because she actually managed to turn Jason against this family! And you can believe whatever you want—but Jason wrote every single word in those papers. Maybe he wasn’t ready to admit that he wanted to be rid of her, but I knew it—why else would he go to all that trouble and bring me this—”

“I don’t believe you. And no judge is going to accept those papers. Jason never wanted a divorce. This was a lie, wasn’t it?”

Monica growled, the rage rising. How dare he accuse her of lying—of not knowing her own son! “If you want proof, I’ll give it to you.” She stalked over to her dresser, yanked it open and fished through it. When she came back to Alan, she held up a single gold band. “He took this off that day—”

Alan took the ring from her, then sighed. “The lies need to stop, Monica. This was on his finger the night of the accident—”

“How—I handled the inventory! I took those things home—” Monica closed her mouth, and Alan looked at her.

“Yes. You did. You took those home. The wallet, the keys, and the ring he never took off. You may have handled the physical inventory, Monica. But I signed the papers that listed this as his property.” He closed his fingers around the ring. “You’re lying. Just like the papers. You’ve been lying from the start—”

“You don’t—you don’t understand—” Monica leapt forward, when Alan turned away from her. “The doctors, they told us that Jason had terrible brain damage. That if he woke up, he’d never be the same. I knew he wouldn’t remember — he wouldn’t remember that last day—I’d lost him, Alan. I’d pushed too hard and he was so angry—”

“So you thought you’d rewrite the story and push Elizabeth out before Jason could even decide what he wanted. You thought you could control him the way you have his whole life. He chose the career we wanted, the school we wanted, the friends—but we never could stop him from loving who we picked out. You got rid of Keesha Ward, didn’t you? Funding a scholarship she couldn’t turn down—” Alan shook his head. “But Elizabeth—she wasn’t going anywhere. And now you’ve destroyed any chance we ever had of Jason coming home.”

“No, Alan, that was you—you took away his control and his rights—”

“Because I believed it was the right thing to do. Because I believed you that Jason wanted it. Because I wanted him to want it. I wanted him to go back to being our son. To the best in his class at Stanford, matching with the best schools—we couldn’t see that the life we’d picked out for him—he didn’t want it Monica. We didn’t see it. And now it’s too late to even try.”

——

Jason unlocked the apartment door, and waited for Elizabeth to go inside first. She’d been quiet on the ride home, not having any real input on Justus’s discussion of the road ahead. Filing AJ’s affidavit would be the nail in the coffin, he thought. Alan and Edward would read it, realize how much Monica had torched their case, and maybe they’d file on their own to make it over.

“Just think,” Jason said, “a week from now on this, this could be over.”

Elizabeth turned, looked at him, smiled, but was tinged with sadness. “I can’t believe Justus was right. That AJ could hold the key. Any judge who hears about all of that—” She rubbed her chest. “When the conservatorship is dissolved, we’ll ask Justus to draw up divorce papers.”

+26

Written in 64 minutes — Dad called halfway through to ask about the Phillies and Spencer Strider’s elbow injury (pitcher for the Braves). Hard to get him off the phone, lol.

Emily dropped her purse and coat onto one of the empty tables at Luke’s and came over to the bar where Elizabeth was restocking for the upcoming shift. “Do you, like, live here?”

“Seems like it sometimes,” Elizabeth said, lifting a bottle of Grey Goose onto the back shelf. “Why, what’s up?”

“Oh, well, I came in over the weekend but it was that really crazy night, and I only got a second to talk to Jason.” Emily climbed onto the stool. “I got stuck at L&B—you know how Lois is. Impossible to say no to.”

“Have you tried?” Elizabeth asked, and Emily rolled her eyes. “Nothing’s really changed in the last few days if that’s what you’re wondering—”

“Well, I didn’t even get the actual scoop from Jason. He just told me it was some kind of trick and not to talk to Mom until he said so, so tell me everything.”

Elizabeth bit her lip, looked at Emily. “How mad are you going to be if I tell you that’s the limit of what I know?”

“What? Elizabeth!”

“We were slammed at the bar, so we didn’t get a chance to talk. And when we were done…I just—” she hesitated. “He told me that they weren’t real. That it was being used as a trick on Monica, and honestly—that’s all I needed to know.”

“How can you not want to know what he was planning? That’s insane—”

“My life has been dominated by  your family since the second Jason brought me to that Christmas party. Schemes to set your brother up with other women, his trust fund being frozen, ELQ—last fall—is it so crazy to believe that I just don’t want that to be my life anymore?”

“Yeah, but—”

“I got what I needed to know, Em. Jason wasn’t going to divorce. He didn’t say the things in those papers. Not really. He probably wrote up those papers using every accusation Monica ever flung at me. I don’t know why he’d do it without telling me, but it’s enough for me to know that those last few weeks — they weren’t a lie. I can…I can turn the page on all of that now. The probate hearing is coming up, and Justus is pretty sure the conservatorship will be tossed out at that point.”

“Dad and Grandfather seemed shaken by the audit Justus had done. It wouldn’t surprise me if they don’t even object to ending the whole thing. But—you and Jason are still married. You can’t really turn the page on all of it.” Emily bit her lip. “Unless—I mean, are you thinking maybe once this is over, so are you and Jason?”

“No. Maybe once, but I think—I don’t know.” Elizabeth smiled, looked down at her inventory clipboard. “I think maybe we’ll be okay. It’s not like before. None of it is. We don’t do the same things—well, some of them are still the same—”

“Oh—” Emily held her hands up. “Don’t say stuff like that with that look in your eyes, because you’re talking about sex with my brother. Take some pity, please.”

“Haha, very funny. But yeah, we just—we’re different. Or maybe we’re what we would have been all along if your family didn’t throw obstacles and roadblocks at us—”

“Or what you’d be if Jason had actually done anything about those obstacles and roadblocks,” Emily said. “Because having spent some time with my brother, he is really different. But not in the ways that count, you know? Like he’s still really sweet. And kind. But not to everyone. Like he got legit mad at me over the phone that day, and Jason’s never yelled at me a day in my life. Even when I deserved it.”

“He rides motorcycles and spends all his free time in the gym. He wants me to take skydiving lessons with him, but we compromised on rollercoasters. He’s…harder than he was,” Elizabeth said. “And maybe that makes me a little sad sometimes, you know? But it’s good, too.”

“He was a pushover. Do you see Jason getting into a car with a drunken moron again?” Emily asked. “No. He’d just punch AJ and take the keys. Definitely better choices. Better results. So…like, are you in love with him?”

Elizabeth hesitated. “I don’t…I want to say yes,” she said slowly. “But I don’t know. I like him. I like what we are together. But I think maybe we need more time. More of nights like last Saturdays.” She grinned, thinking about the mad dash upstairs, how they hadn’t made it off the floor for at least an hour—

“Oh, ew, you’re thinking about sex again—” Emily grimaced. “Nasty.”

——

At the apartment, Jason was opening the door for Justus. “Hey. Elizabeth had inventory at the club. We can head over if you need her—”

“No, no,  you can pass this on to her. I talked to Ned about the papers, and he thinks it might be good to tell Alan and Edward that divorce papers exist. Nothing else about them,” Justus added. “He won’t tip our hand that they’re not real. We don’t know for sure Monica knows they’re fake, so I want to keep that quiet until we have something else to work with.”

“What’s the point in telling Alan or Edward?” Jason opened the fridge, retrieved a beer. “You want something?”

“No, I’m good.” Justus leaned against the back of the sofa. “Ned says the financial audit really screwed with Alan’s head. He’s had it in his head Elizabeth was out for the trust fund from the beginning — apparently, when Elizabeth’s parents refused to pay for art school, you went to Alan asking for the money. You’d need his permission to take that amount all at once.”

“Let me guess — he assumed Elizabeth put me up to it.”

“This was maybe six months before you brought her to the party, so it wasn’t that long before you started dating her. When she turns up pregnant not much later—” Justus shrugged. “Look, Alan’s touchy about that kind of thing. Monica married him for his money back in the day. They went back and forth a lot with affairs and divorces. He watched it happen with AJ—”

“Elizabeth said something.”

“And he thought it was happening with you. He wasn’t wrong to be concerned. But he was wrong not to give Elizabeth a chance and to let Edward and Monica in his ear about her manipulating her. I’m not saying you gotta forgive the guy or start calling him Dad. I know he didn’t handle any of this well, and he was never that nice to Elizabeth either. He went for that power of attorney originally, before the conservatorship.”

“He was different in court,” Jason admitted. “When Elizabeth found out about the divorce. He answered her, remembered?”

“I do. Which is why I sent the audit to him. I thought proof that Elizabeth was supporting you would screw with him. It did. Emily said he was upset, confused. And now we’re going to put it in his head that Monica who told him about this divorce story has proof she’s never shown? He’s going to have questions. We need him to have questions. Because if the probate judge won’t appoint Elizabeth as co-conservator—”

“Alan could petition to dissolve without you,” Jason finished. “Okay. If you think so—”

“There’s another angle we could do to nail Monica down. There are only two people who know what happened that day,” Justus told Jason. “Monica will never tell us and you can’t remember. But we forgot that a third person showed up at some point.”

“AJ, the brother I never met because he’d already gone to rehab,” Jason said. “And hasn’t come back.”

“He’s in a six-month program. Best thing for him honestly but it was Monica’s idea to extend it to six months. Ned says she decided on that six weeks ago.”

“Six weeks ago—” Jason straightened. “Wasn’t that—”

“Around the same time I took your case? Isn’t it interesting that Monica found out about the conservatorship and divorce case and then took steps to make sure the only other witness to that day can’t come home and tell us what he knows?”

Jason leaned against the counter. “But he’s still not coming home for a month—”

“Ned told me where to find him. And he can make some calls, get you on the visiting list. Just tell him when.”

“Let me run this past Elizabeth.” Jason sipped the beer. “She hasn’t really wanted to talk about any of this the last few days. It was enough for her to know the papers weren’t real. But I don’t feel right about going to see AJ without telling her.”

“I don’t blame her for needing a break. When you live among the Quartermaines like you did and Emily still does — you get immune to the way they treat people. How they can turn so viciously on one another.” Justus picked up his briefcase. “Give me a call when you want me to set things up with Ned.”

—

“I have to tell you father,” Alan said, laying some papers on Edward’s desk. “I don’t know how this probate hearing is going to go. I think we’re looking at a loss.”

Edward grimaced, picked up the report. “Not if I make some calls,” he muttered.

“Do you really want to waste favors on this?” Alan asked. He paced across the study to the window then back. “I keep thinking about seeing Jason in court. He looked good, didn’t he?”

“Anyone can put on a suit and—”

“Father, he testified,” Alan cut in. “He sounded perfectly capable. Normal. All the things the doctors said he couldn’t be. He spoke about the aphasia without hesitation. Father, he never completed the testing in the hospital. If we’ve been underestimating his capabilty all this time—”

“I depended on you for the medicine! You told me the doctors said he was limited! That he’d never function normally, live independently—”

“I was devastated! One of my sons had permanently damaged the life of another! Can you even imagine the stress and pressure I was under—the grief—”

“Sorry to interrupt.”

Alan whirled to find Ned in the open door way. He grimaced. “What do you want?”

“I wanted to see how things were going in Jason’s case. I  would think you’d be feeling confident. At least in the divorce case. Have you filed an appeal?”

Edward stood up, flattened both his hands on the desk. “Have you come to gloat, you reprobate?”

“Me?” Ned set his hand against his chest. “I would never. I thought you’d be over the moon since Monica found those divorce papers.”

“Divorce—” Alan came towards him. “Explain. Now. What divorce papers?”

Ned widened his eyes. “I thought for sure you’d have seen them. They confirm everything you’ve been saying—Monica brought them to Elizabeth at Luke’s last week. Justus brought me a copy, wanting to get my perspective.” He handed them to Alan who snatched it up. “Strange that Monica didn’t tell you about them, isn’t it?”

“What is it?” Edward demanded, coming around his desk. “What’s going on?”

“Divorce papers—Jason was filing for divorce—” Alan stared at them for a long moment. Dated December 27. “He drew them up the day of the accident. He went to the lawyer and came straight here?”

“I suppose so. Why wouldn’t Monica give them to you if she had them all along?”

Edward snatched them from Alan, started to skim them. “Who is this lawyer? I’ve never heard of him.”

“Alan?” Ned asked, and his uncle looked at him, blinking. “When did Monica tell you about the divorce?”

“In the hospital. After the accident,” he said numbly. “She was hysterical when Tony told us Jason might never wake up. You can’t imagine. We’d just—we’d just lost our granddaughter. She never had a chance, did you know that? Dead on impact, the reports said. And Elizabeth having to wake up to it—whatever her faults, I know she loved that baby. Jason—he was just destroyed. And now another drunk driver—my own son—had taken Jason from us.”

“The divorce?” Ned pressed gently. Alan cleared his throat.

“Elizabeth was in the lobby, trying to get into the ICU, but Monica didn’t want her there. It was all her fault, Monica kept saying. Jason was at the house because of her. Because he was filing for divorce, and he came to tell us—and he saw AJ with the car—” Alan rubbed the heel of his hand against his chest. “She begged me to keep Elizabeth away—she was absolutely hysterical, and I thought, all right. Just for tonight. Just to keep Monica calm.”

Alan exhaled slowly. “Later, she told me the rest of it. What Jason had told her. But she never, ever told me about these papers—Father—”

Edward shook his head, looked at his son. “They’re not real,” he said. “These—these are things that Jason would never say about that girl.”

Alan frowned. “What? What do you mean?”

“Blaming her for the accident. How many fights did we get into?” Edward wondered. “How many times did I demand that he see sense — that he admit if he’d just married a proper girl who didn’t work in a bar that Cadence would be alive — that it was Elizabeth’s fault—but Jason—he always defended her. Always. We had that last fight just before the holidays. I told him that as long as he was defending her, we didn’t have to speak a word. And he told me that it would be a cold day in hell before he came back to this house.”

Ned raised his brows. “But he came back.”

“I had that argument with him here in this room. December 20. A week later, after two months, he has an epiphany? He suddenly gives up and says everything we ever wanted him to believe about her? Using some of the exact same words that Monica herself had used?” Edward tossed the papers on the desk. “As much as I want to believe it — no wonder Monica never showed them to us. I’d never have believed my grandson would say those things. I may not think Elizabeth was worthy of the love or devotion he showed her, but I certainly won’t pretend he didn’t feel those things.”

“Then why did you believe he was asking for a divorce?” Ned asked. “You’re not making sense, Grandfather.”

“I thought—I thought he had doubts. I thought maybe—Monica told us it was because he believed the accident was Elizabeth’s fault, but I just—it was so hard. He was grieving so hard, Alan.” Edward looked at his son. “I just thought maybe he’d reached his breaking point, and he didn’t know how to explain to Monica, so he’d told her what she wanted to hear. I just—I thought maybe she’d asked him for money, and he’d begun to see what we’d always said, but now—now, I just don’t know.”

He sat down, scrubbed his face. “It’s one thing to have Monica tell you this is what he said, this is why he’s doing it, and it—it confirms what you think, so you just go along with it. Jason wanted a divorce. Why would Monica lie? But to see it in print, to see those words—the way it’s written. I don’t know. Maybe he did ask for the divorce. But those papers — that’s not how he would have done it. It’s cold. Jason—” Edward sighed. “He was soft, kind. He’d never have done that to her. Not that way. Even if I would have.”

Edward looked at Alan. “What the hell is your wife trying to pull?”

“I don’t know,” Alan said, grimly, “but I’m going to find out.”

—

Elizabeth tossed a copy of the schedule at Jason when he came to work later. “I gave us both off next Saturday,” she told him, reaching for the ingredients to blend a margarita. “We’re going to find an amusement park with good rollercoasters.”

Jason sighed. “We could do that, or we could do something else—”

“I’m not skydiving—”

“We could go see AJ in rehab.”

Her fingers stilled for a moment, then pressed the button to start the blender. Jason went to fill some orders, waiting for her to be done. When she’d handed off her own set of orders, she  came to stand next to him, leaning back against the bar.

“Why are we going to see AJ on Saturday?” she wanted to know. “Isn’t it enough to know the papers are fake?”

“They’re not fake in the way you mean. The lawyer is real. He drew them up. But nothing in them are real. I told you, the idea was to trick Monica. But no one knows if she knew they were real. When Monica found out Alan and Edward had started divorce proceedings based on her story, she arranged for AJ’s rehab stay to be doubled. He’s the only other person who was in the room that day.”

“A witness that can tell us what Monica knew and when. Maybe. If his alcohol-soaked brain remembers any of it. Well, you and Justus can go—”

“I want you to go with me. You know AJ—”

“You want me to go see the drunk driver that killed my husband?” Elizabeth bit out, then looked away. “I mean, you’re not dead. But that part of you is, and it’s never going back, so it’s not that different, okay? So why would I go? Why would either of us go? Tell Justus to go take a statement.”

“Because I want to look him in the eye,” Jason said, and she sighed. “You don’t have to go. I just thought maybe you’d need to see him the way I do. I don’t care much about who I used to be. I don’t care about the future I was planning, or the memories I lost. But I do care about it did to you. And that because of AJ, I’ll never know or remember my own daughter outside of pictures. So I need to see him. Just once. But you don’t have to go.”

“Good. Because I’m not.” And with that, the conversation was over, and Elizabeth moved to the other end of the bar to take another order.

+28

Written in 65 minutes. Song at the end is Red Light Special (TLC)

Luke’s was in full swing by the time Jason arrived to work the eight to two shift, and the club was packed to the brim for a band Luke had lured up from New York for a special week of performances. Most of the time, Jason didn’t mind the crowds — he didn’t much like people but when it was busy, the night went quickly and no one lingered at the bar. He could fill the orders without much thinking, leaving his mind to wander on more important things.

Tonight, all he really wanted to do was tell Elizabeth what he’d learned at the lawyer’s office, wondering what her reaction would be to learning that the divorce papers had been a ruse to lure Monica into admitting her part in the press leaks. Jason was partially relieved his former self hadn’t been a complete asshole, but he also thought it was still a stupid idea. Why bother making Monica admit anything? He could have just cut the entire family off.

But there was barely a quiet moment to be had that night — the music was pumping, echoing off the walls, the dance floor was packed, and he could barely keep up with the demands for Blue Moons, Budweisers, Rolling Rocks, and the occasional Guiness. Elizabeth was working as quickly as she could to fill the orders for martinis, margaritas, and other stupid mixed drink people could think of.

The tips rolled in, though, and Jason appreciated those. Sky diving lessons weren’t going to come cheap, he thought, and he was still holding out hope he’d be able to convince Elizabeth to try it. He thought it might be like the bike only a thousand times more intense.

“Behind,” Elizabeth called out, scooting past Jason with a tray of drinks she delivered to  waiting server, then twirled around past him again to grab another set of orders. He watched her for an extra minute, wondering how she kept all those drinks straight in her head and could fill the orders flawlessly. And she still found time to check in with everyone at the bar, offering quick smiles conversations—

“Well, one thing hasn’t changed.”

Jason whipped his head around at the familiar voice shouted over the music. Emily had wedged herself into the a space on the bar. “Just give me a Corona!” she shouted over the music. Jason grunted, grabbed a glass, filled it and set it in front of the bar.

“Did you go to see the lawyer today?” Emily wanted to know when Jason came back from getting a new rack of orders from the server.

“Yeah,” he said, pitching his voice loud enough to be heard. “Long story short, they’re real but it was a trick. Monica was feeding stories to the press.”

Emily winced. “Damn it.” Whatever she said next was lost in the wave of music. “Did you tell Liz yet?”

“No. Not yet. And don’t say anything to Monica until we know what we want to do,” Jason told her. He delivered a drink order.

“Whatever you guys need.” Emily tossed a twenty on the bar, took her drink and disappeared into the crowd. He lost her after a few minutes, and focused on getting through the shift.

The band finished their set around eleven, and the club thinned out by at least half. There was finally time to take a breath.

“Christ, I think I’m going to clear a grand tonight,” Elizabeth muttered, shoving another wad of bills into the tip jar secured beneath the bar. “But I’m glad to have a minute to myself.” She grabbed a bottle of water from the cooler behind them, rested it against the skin left bare by her scoop-necked tank top.

Jason leaned against the bar back, folding his arms. “I don’t know how you can stand this every day,” he admitted. “This is way too many people.”

Elizabeth grinned at him. “You’d much rather working the opening shift when we have twelve people, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes,” Jason said, immediately.

“This is definitely not your scene.” Elizabeth sipped her water, then handed him the bottle. “You should talk to Luke or Sonny about finding something else in the clubs. Less people, you know? I mean, I’d miss you back here,” she admitted. “But there’s no point working a job you hate.”

Jason took a long swig of water, handed it back. “I don’t hate it. But it’s not my favorite thing.”

“Did you like the warehouse when you worked there?” Elizabeth asked, before heading over to fill an order. She mixed some vodka with a spray of Coke, then delivered the drink.

“People left you alone. They gave you a task, and as long as you did, you weren’t bothered.”

“Sounds perfect for you. Seriously, when we get this conservatorship done, you should really think about what you want to do. You’ll have options again.”

“Maybe. You…you haven’t asked about the lawyer.”

Elizabeth sighed. “On purpose, I guess.” She looked towards the stage where the musicians were packing up. The live music had been replaced by the jukebox in the corner. “I don’t know about you, but I am really over dealing with the Quartermaines.”

“Since the moment I woke up,” Jason muttered, and she laughed. It was good, he thought, to see her happy. Whatever mind games Monica had tried to play, Elizabeth had brushed them off. She’d seemed much lighter in general since the day they’d packed up the second bedroom.

“We don’t have to get into the details, but you should know the papers weren’t for the court. They were to trick Monica into admitting something.”

Elizabeth looked at him for a long moment, then tipped her head. “So he didn’t mean any of it?”

“No. Not a single word.”

She looked forward again, nodded. “Okay.” She smiled. “Okay. That’s—that’s good. Thank you. But everything else?”

“It can wait,” Jason promised.

“Tonight, I just want to pretend none of that is out there,” Elizabeth told him, and then went to server waiting at the end of the bar.

—

Across town, Justus Ward was also looking forward to putting this case to bed and not being surrounded constantly by the Quartermaines. But he’d gone to the gatehouse with the file Jack Bingham had given them after the apppointment.

“He never told me he was doing any of this,” Ned murmured, sifting through the press articles. “I thought that the press mostly went away after the funeral.”

“WKPC did,” Justus said. “But the Herald and Sun kept printing. I didn’t know Jason was charged with assault after punching a reporter until Luke mentioned it a few weeks ago. Did you?”

“He said nothing.” Ned picked up an editorial about rich families throwing their weight around. “Which makes you wonder why he was cutting us both out of the loop. Did he think we might be the leak?”

“He didn’t tell anyone, including Emily. But look — he’s circling things in every article. Facts that no one could know unless they’d been told personally. Maybe you could find out where their apartment building was, but not the apartment number.  This article talks about Elizabeth’s shifts at the bar — which she hadn’t worked since before the baby.”

“He was tracking how much information was being shared.”

“And after he got the charges dropped against the reporter, the day after Christmas, he went to see Bingham and came up with a scheme to make Monica think he was on her side.”

“And wrote up these divorce papers, designed specifically to delight her.” Ned stroked his chin. “But why would Monica not use them? I can’t believe Alan and Edward would have agreed to keep these quiet—”

“I think she knew they weren’t real. She told Alan and Edward Jason wanted a divorce. I bet  that’s when Alan went for the power of attorney, and it snowballed from there.”

“She knew if Elizabeth saw these papers, she might have ask the lawyer—”

“I have that covered, too. Bingham was instructed to confirm Jason was a client and these papers were real if he was ever asked. Only Jason would ever have been able to get the rest of info. Jason said Monica was ready to bolt when he showed up at the bar.”

“She wanted to guilt Elizabeth into leaving, but not have Jason ask too many questions. That’s desperation.” Ned closed the folder. “Alan and Edward have been singing a different tune since your financial audit came back the other day. Edward’s going to be in touch in a day or two to return Elizabeth’s money. Alan wants to drop the conservatorship.”

“Desperation,” Justus repeated. “Monica made one last play to get Elizabeth out of Jason’s life. Well, it backfired, that’s for sure.”

“Oh, I can just imagine.” Ned looked at Justus. “You know who we haven’t talked to yet. The only person who was in the house that day and can tell us what Monica and Jason were talking about.”

“That’s a good point. Do you know if AJ can have any visitors in rehab?”

—

The club continued to empty out as the clock crawled towards two, and the final pair of college students staggered out ten minutes to the hour. Elizabeth locked the front door with a relieved flourish, then leaned against it. “Thank God.”

Jason was on the floor, clearing empty glasses into the rubber tub. “Luke told you to stop scheduling doubles when you do inventory.”

“Well, tell him to hire me a bartender who can mix drinks next time,” she replied with a smirk. She headed over to the jukebox and flipped on the freeplay mode so that it would cycle through the songs. “Let’s clear down and get the hell out of here.”

Jason continued to clear the dirty glassware, setting them in the kitchen for the dishwashers the next morning while Elizabeth cashed out the registers, matching orders to the cash on hand.

When he returned, she was counting out money from the tip jar. “After we’re done paying out to the servers, and bus boys—it’s just under eleven hundred for us both.”

“Good. That covers the first round of sky diving lessons.” Jason leaned against the front of the bar, watching her count. “I’ll sign us for our next off day.”

“You can keep trying,” Elizabeth said, flashing him a quick smile, “but there’s no chance you get me to jump out of airplane.”

“You love the turns on the bike,” Jason reminded her. “The wind rushing past your face so loud you can’t hear anything—you don’t think it might be fun to try it from a thousand feet in the air?”

“Oh, God, not even a little bit,” she said with a shudder. “The bike is still on the ground.”

“You want me to try new things, but you won’t?” Jason asked. “Didn’t I let you teach me to dance?”

“I’m sorry, we’re definitely not calling what you tried to do dancing—”

“I managed the slower one,” Jason said, insulted. “I could do it if I wanted.”

Elizabeth just laughed and slid his share of the tips across the bar. “I’m sure you could. But I’m not skydiving, and you’re not dancing.”

“They’re not the same thing—”

“Ha! Exactly. You want me to jump out of a plane, you have to d something nearly as scary in return.”

Jason furrowed his brow. “Like what? What am I supposed to be scared of?”

“I don’t know, but when we think of something, we can trade the plane for it.” Elizabeth pocketed her tips. “But if you want to think of something smaller for me to do with you, like—I don’t know. What about roller coasters?”

“Roller coasters,” Jason repeated. “I don’t know if it’d be the same but we can talk about it. But I get something in return, don’t I?”

“Yeah, sure.” She propped her elbows on the bar, leaned forward, with a smirk on her lips. “What do you have in mind?”

Jason was stumped for a minute, but then the jukebox clipped to a different song, and the music was slower, not that different from that night in the apartment.

Take a good look at it look at it now
Might be the last time you’ll have a go round

“Dance with me.”

Elizabeth shrugged, came around the bar. “Okay, I was expecting some a bit more demanding but—”

He set his hands at her hips, pulled her close, and she smiled, tilting her head back to look at him. “Oh, okay, I see what you’re doing.”

I’ll let you touch it if you like to go down
I’ll let you go further if you take this southern route

“What am I doing?” he asked, sliding one hand into the back pockets of her jeans, the other resting on the strip of skin left bare between the hem of her tank top and her jeans.

Elizabeth curled an arm around his neck, her nails lightly scratching against the nape of his neck. “So you like this kind of dancing?”

Don’t go too fast don’t go too slow
You got to let your body flow

“I like anything that lets me touch you,” Jason told her, and the flush he liked so much rose from her chest into her cheeks. She rested a hand over his chest.

I like ’em attentive and I like ’em in control

“I like it, too,” she murmured, then leaned her head against his chest, curling into his arms, their dancing little more than just gently swaying to the slow pulsing music. The last time they’d danced, she’d still been nervous, he thought. But it was different now after all these weeks together.

Baby, it’s yours, all yours, if you want it tonight
I’ll give you the red light special all through the night

He stroked her back, from the base of her spine to the nape of her neck, then back again.

Baby, it’s yours, all yours, if you want it tonight
Come through my door, take off my clothes and turn on the red light

“Maybe we should go home,” Elizabeth murmured. She tipped her head up, her eyes dark and hooded. “If you’re ready.”

“We could do that,” Jason said, leaning down, brushing his lips against hers, lightly first—once, twice, then sinking in, drawing it out until they were both breathing heavily. “But I have a better idea—”

“I don’t think I’d ever be able to look Luke in the eye again if we had sex on his desk,” she quipped, and for that, he lightly pinched her butt. She laughed, but he kissed her again, cutting it off, dragging her hard against him.

I know that you want me, I can see it in your eyes
You might as well be honest, ’cause the body never lies

“I still have the key for the room upstairs,” he whispered in her ear. “Unless you really want to go all the home first—”

Tell me your secrets and I’ll, I’ll tell you mine
I’m feelin’ quite sexy and I want you for tonight

“Say less,” Elizabeth said, fisting her hand in his shirt and dragging him towards the back stairs. He laughed, following her up the steps and down the hall. She dug into his back pocket where he kept his keys, making sure to let her fingers return the pinch he’d given her. He put his hand at her neck and dragged her against him for a hard, intense kiss while fumbling with the keys in the lock.

If I move too fast (too fast) just let me know (just let me know)
‘Cause it means you move too slow

The door suddenly opened, and they fell through it,  Jason landing first with Elizabeth on top of him. She flattened her hand on either side of his head, and grinned. “Well, you know, the bed’s a good idea, but the floor will do just fine.”

He grinned, used a leg to kick the door closed, then dragged her top over her head. “For the first time anyway. We’ll get to the bed eventually.”

I like some excitement and I like a man that goes
Baby, it’s yours, all yours, if you want it tonight

+36

Written in 59 minutes. I’m a little annoyed. I was hoping I’d have time to do add a quick Liason scene that wasn’t in the outline after the Luke/Jason scene in the beginning, but I ran out of time. It’ll be there in the edits, so just imagine Jason going home to Elizabeth that night, lol.

“Thought you were gonna sit out tonight,” Luke said when Jason joined him behind the bar later that night for his regularly scheduled shift. “You bring Lizzie with you?”

“No, she’s still at home,” Jason replied, then got to work.

When the night’s featured act took the stage, there was a lull in the drink orders, giving Luke a chance to dig in a little bit more. “How she taking it?”

Jason hesitated, then shook his head. “I don’t know. She told me to come to work, and not to leave you short handed. I think she wanted some time alone.” He took a tub of dirty glasses, then returned from the kitchen with a rank of clean ones.

“For what it’s worth, I meant what I said earlier. This isn’t real. I don’t know what the doc is cooking up, but I don’t buy any of it.” Luke paused. “But you didn’t want any part of that old life, so maybe it doesn’t matter to you—”

“You think I don’t care that they’re using me to hurt her again?” Jason demanded, his eyes flashing. “Because they ran out of everything else, now they’re dragging up things she said—” He stopped. “Monica knew things that only…that she have only learned from him.”

“From you,” Luke corrected, and Jason glared at him. “I’m not in the mood for your bullshit about not being Jason Quartermaine. It’s a copout. Lets you walk away from all the people and things in your life, acting like none of them existed. But they did. Just because you don’t remember it—that don’t erase what you did or said. Maybe that works on Elizabeth, maybe that’s how you get her hooked again—”

“Do you have something to say to me?” Jason cut in sharply. “Because this is none of your business—”

“The hell it’s not.” Luke grimaced when his tone and volume caught some eyes. He jerked his thumb towards the back office. “Let’s go. Claude,” he called to the man at the end of the bar. “Take over for a bit.”

In the office, Luke headed straight for his chair and box of cigars. “Don’t you ever tell me what happens to Elizabeth isn’t my business. Who do you think scraped her off the damn floor when your family locked her out of your life? When they stole her money? Tried to evict her from her home? You don’t get to ride in here like the white knight after me and Sonny and Mike did the hard work of keeping her in one piece—”

“And you don’t get to take credit for what she did. You stood by her, and that’s great. But getting up and still fighting? Elizabeth did that, not you.”

Some of the flush faded from Luke’s cheek, and he squinted, tipped his head. “She did. No one’s disputing that. But—”

“I get that you don’t want me in Elizabeth’s life. That you only brought me here so she’d see that I didn’t remember her, so she’d move on. But I’m not going anywhere until she tells me to.”

Luke sat down, lit his cigar, then leaned back. “When Lizzie first took up with you, I told her — that one will only bring you down. Edward and Alan will never see past her lack of college education and polish, and no one will ever be good enough for Monica’s golden boy. She told me she didn’t care and went on her merry way. I never liked you.”

“I don’t think that much of who I used to be either,” Jason said, some of his own anger fading. “What’s your point?”

“My point is that despite knowing you’d bring her nothing but pain, I changed my mind about you a little after you lost that baby.” He sat up, had to take a minute. “Christ, the way that accident would have leveled even a strong man, and I figured you were such a weak-willed Mama’s boy that you’d crumble under the pressure, and how could anyone blame you? You’re barely grown, and you got a wife in the ICU who might not live, and that angel who never had much of a chance to live—who would have blamed you if you’d been like your brother and crawled into a bottle?”

Luke tipped the ash from the cigar into a nearby ash tray. “But you didn’t falter. You sat with Elizabeth until she woke up, until they knew she’d recover. And you found the strength to tell her that awful news. Maybe it’s good that you don’t remember that part.” He waited a beat. “And you stood up to your family when they wanted to blame her. That’s the part Doc isn’t remembering. You stood in that hospital and told them off when Monica started going in on Lizzie working here, bringing Cady here. You knew she was only coming by to show that darling off to her family. Because me and Sonny, we’re her family. You knew that, Jason. You said it before Elizabeth ever woke up from that accident.”

Jason leaned forward, realizing where Luke was going. “So why, two months later, did I write in divorce papers that I blamed her all along?”

“Exactly —” Luke gestured at him with the cigar. “And that’s crap about suicide threats — you brought her to us that day. You sent her off with Sonny, and you sat in this office—” His voice faltered, and he looked away. “You told me what she’d said. And that you were worried that she meant it. Because she couldn’t live with the guilt. You knew she blamed herself, and you were scared she’d never accept the truth. That the only person to blame was the damn driver they never found.”

“I told you that,” Jason said slowly.

“You did. And you asked us to sit with her while you cleaned up things at home. You’d put everything in her room because Elizabeth would be ready one day, and you’d be there when she was. But until then, you had to protect what was left of your family.” Luke looked at him. “So when I say there’s not a chance in hell that you went to some cheap ass lawyer to sell Elizabeth up the river, I’m telling you it as a fact. I gained more respect for you in that single conversation than I had in all the time that came in front of it. Monica is working some scheme. I don’t know how she knows about those threats, but you told me. You might have told someone else who passed those on to her.”

“They know they’re going to lose in court,” Jason said. “That’s why she’s doing this now. The probate hearing is coming in a few weeks.”

“You do yourself a favor — you get to the bottom of this divorce thing, and you go into that hearing and you show just how relentless that family has been to get her out of your life. It goes back so much further than you know. This isn’t the first time they’ve tried to use the law against you and her. Did she talk about the business about a prenuptial agreement? How they tried to force it through ELQ, freezing your trust fund and putting your medical school tuition at risk?”

“She mentioned it.”

“You put that together with the bullshit about the power of attorney, this conservatorship, the divorce they filed, and now this—this is the nail in the coffin. So do yourself and Elizabeth a favor — find out what the hell you were doing at that house before the accident.”

—

“Jack J. Bingham.” Justus scowled as they looked at the sign above the dingy building and pot-holed ridden parking lost. “It just sounds like an ambulance chaser.”

“Sonny said this guy was cheap, used by the strippers he knew at the Paradise Lounge.” Jason folded his arms. “You think Monica paid him off?”

“I think there’s always a possibility, especially since these were never filed, so it’d be tough to prove an ethical violation.” Justus pulled open the door. “Let’s go find out.”

Inside, the lobby looked even worse. The carpet was threadbare, with patches of subfloor peeking through. The walls were peeling, and the chairs didn’t look like they’d support a small child much less a grown adult.

A woman with blonde hair sat behind the receptionist desk. Her eyes were wide when she saw Jason and Justus. “Oh. I didn’t have an appointment on the books.”

“This is going to sound like a strange question,” Justus began, flashing a bright smile. “But my client here, Jason Quartermaine, was in a car accident that damaged his memory. You might have read about it in the papers.”

“Oh.” Her voice was breathy, and somehow high-pitched at the same time. “I did! But if he’s your client—are we representing the driver?”

“No. Recently, my client was made aware of some divorce papers created on his behalf. There’s a claim that he directed Mr. Bingham to file them. We were hoping to confirm that and have a conversation about it.”

The woman accepted the papers Justus handed her. “Well, that’s our letterhead. I’ll go get Jack. See if he can take a minute.”

She disappeared behind a door, and Jason sighed. “Why the hell would I do this?” he muttered.

“We’re going to find out.”

The woman reappeared. “Jack says come on back.”

They followed her back through the door and into an office that wasn’t much better than the lobby. A tall man, with a receding hair line and a bulge around the middle got up from his chair, came around the desk. “Mr. Quartermaine, can’t say I expected to see you again.”  He extended his hand, but Jason just stared at him.

“So I was a client.”

“Yes, well…” Jack Bingham shifted uncomfortable. “I suppose you don’t remember.”

“No. Not until Monica Quartermaine gave these to my wife—” He gestured at the papers in Justus’s hand. “Are they real?”

“Well, that would depend on your definition.” Jack gestured for them to take a seat, and reluctantly Jason did. “You came to me a few days before Christmas and asked me to draw up divorce papers.”

Jason gripped the arms of the chair tightly, his stomach rolling. “I did.”

“You never intended to file them,” Jack continued, and Jason released his first easy breath in twenty-four hours. “It’s not unusual for a spouse to draw up papers as a threat, so I was happy to do it, but you wanted me to know that your wife was never supposed to see them.”

Jason straightened slightly. “She wasn’t?”

“No. And if you remembered that, you’d be very angry right now,” Jack said. He went to a filing cabinet, pulled out a thin green hanging folder with white hooks. He set it down and flipped it open. “You’d been collecting newspaper articles since your wife and daughter were in an accident.” He slid the file across to Jason, but Jason didn’t touch it.

“Why would I do that? Why would I create a divorce that Elizabeth would never see?”

“Because you were hoping it would be enough leverage so that your mother would admit she’d been the leak to the press,” Jack said. “For weeks, there had been editorials and news coverage about the accident. About the search for the driver. About the funeral. Every little tidbit. And they were full of information that no reporter could have known without a source. The final straw for you to come to me was the reporters outside your building.”

Justus frowned, looked at Jason. “I knew you were having issues with the press, but I didn’t know they came to the apartment.”

“They knew where you lived. And they had been lying in wait for your wife outside in the hallway,” Jack said. “And shoved a camera in her face the first day she was going back to work.”

Jason scrubbed a hand down his face. “The reporter. Luke said I punched one.”

“Yeah. And the reporter was going to file charges until you threatened trespassing charges. Suddenly, he was full of information. And had no problem revealing the source came from your family. But that was far as he was willing to go.”

“So you put together papers that would convince Monica everything she ever thought about Elizabeth was true. So she’d admit the truth.” Jason grimaced. “And I must have gone to the house with them.”

“I heard about your accident later and just assumed you never had a reason to use them. But I suppose you got as far as talking to your mother—”

“She’s not my mother,” Jason interrupted. “She’ll never be my mother. This isn’t what mothers do, is it?” He thought of Elizabeth, the way she’d talked about their daughter, the loving way she’d packed Cady’s things, the way she’d looked in photos, holding the baby— “She made Elizabeth’s life miserable.”

“I’m sorry. I tried to talk you out of it,” Jack said, “but—” He gestured at the office. “It’s not like I can turn down a paying client. I’m sorry it didn’t work out the way you hoped.”

“No, it really didn’t.”

—

Elizabeth had gone to the club, not wanting to sit around the apartment waiting for Jason to get back from meeting with the lawyer. She’d busied herself doing scut work and redoing the inventory she’d never finished.

But it was impossible to put it out of her head — to stop wondering if everything she’d thought about her life had been nothing more than a lie—

“Hey, darlin’, any word?”

Elizabeth turned, saw Luke sliding onto a bar stool, a glass of whiskey already in his hand. “No. No, not yet.”

“You shouldn’t worry so much. I’m not just blowing smoke up your ass when I tell you whatever those papers are, they’re not real.” Luke raised his brows. “And you know how I felt about that husband of yours, so I ain’t lying.”

“I know. I know. But—” Elizabeth sighed. “I don’t know. Maybe they’re not real. Maybe Monica cooked them up or Jason had a plan—I should know, right? I should be able to be one hundred percent certain that my husband loved me—”

“And you think because you got some doubts that somehow it messes up everything else?” Luke shook his head. “You forget how chaotic it all was. How messy and rough it all was. You and Jason were finding your way after a traumatic, terrible event. Maybe you didn’t handle it well, maybe he didn’t confide in you — but that doesn’t have to change what you do know.”

“It shouldn’t, but—”

“Do you know why I wanted to bring Jason here to work?”

“To jolt me back into the land of the living,” Elizabeth said with a half smile. “To show me that I was just standing still—”

“You were holding onto the dream that if you and Jason saw each other, somehow you’d be the exception to all the rest of it. That he’d see you, and he’d feel something. Maybe he still wouldn’t remember, but what you had, it mattered enough to survive whatever that rock did to his brain.”

“I was wrong, and I needed to see that—”

“You were right,” Luke cut in gently. Startled, Elizabeth’s eyes flew to his, and he grinned. “You know how much I hate to say that, but you were right. Maybe it took some time for it find root again. But from the moment that boy knew who you’d been to him, when he found out about his daughter — something was there. And now look at you—”

“Luke—”

“I sat with him in my office yesterday after that whole scene, ready to tear him a new one because as far as I was concerned, he was doing nothing but messing up your life and making it impossible for you to move on. But he did the ripping. Came at me for acting like me and Sonny did all the hard work of keeping you in one piece. Because as far as he was concerned, the only person that deserved that credit was you. And he was right. You took hits that would have leveled someone twice your age—and you kept taking them. But you got back up again. And you kept trying. And he saw that. He wanted to make sure I did, too.”

Elizabeth blinked, holding back the tears stinging her eyes. “Luke.”

“You don’t think there’s a little something to wonder about how out of every one in Jason’s life, you’re the one he’s let back in? Whatever dumbass thing your husband was doing at the Qaurtermaine house that day, I can’t picture him turning his back on you. Not then, with all you’d been through. And not now. There’s something about you that he can’t let go of. Even when he doesn’t remember anything else. You don’t have to doubt that, Lizzie. Not anymore.”

+37

Written in 59 minutes.

Jason swung his leg over the bike, and hurried to the entrance of Luke’s where Mike was waiting for him, pacing back and forth. “What’s wrong? What did Monica do?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t feel right eavesdropping, but as soon as I heard her voice—” Mike began, but Jason didn’t wait to hear the rest of the statement. He’d already been on his way out the door when Mike’s call had come through, and he was just lucky there weren’t any cops following him into the parking lot because he’d blown through two red lights.

He yanked the heavy front door open, Mike on his heels, and went inside. Elizabeth stood behind the bar, papers in her hands, and Monica was on the other side.

“What’s going on here?” Jason demanded, bounding down the steps and  closing the distance. He stayed on Monica’s side of the bar, ready to drag her to the door if he needed to. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Just a little conversation between mothers.” Monica reached for the coat she’d tossed over the bar stool. “You call me when you have the chance—”

Jason gritted his teeth, stepped in front of her to block her exit. “No—”

“No,” Elizabeth said, nearly at the same time. “No, you came all the way down here. Why not tell Jason what you told me?” She set the papers on the bar, her eyes shuttered, her entire body tense. “Go ahead. You should be eager to tell him the truth, right?”

“I don’t think—” Monica’s grip on her coat tightened now, as if it were a lifeline thrown to her. “You should really—”

“What? Tell him myself? Aren’t you worried about I’ll find a way to twist and manipulate the situation like I always do?” Elizabeth shook her head. “No, you drove down here, Monica. You wanted to tell me you had proof. So go ahead, tell Jason your story.”

Jason snatched up the papers, his jaw clenching when he realized they were divorce papers between himself and Elizabeth. “What is this? We knew the Edward filed for divorce—”

“Those aren’t the divorce papers from the conservatorship.”

He looked down at the papers again, exhaled slowly. “These are from me,” he said, almost in a trance. The divorce threats had been real. How did that—how could it be right? And why— “If you had these all along, then why didn’t you use them in court?”

“That’s a damn good question,” Luke announced, sauntering in from the office, Sonny and Mike on his heels. “Hey there, Doc.” He leaned against the bar, his elbow resting on the top. His mouth was smiling but his eyes were cold. “What brings you down here?”

Sonny went behind the bar to stand by Elizabeth. “You good?”

“Jury’s out on that,” Elizabeth murmured. “Cruel and inhumane treatment,” she said softly. “That’s what those papers say.”

Jason frowned. “That doesn’t make any sense—”

“I threatened to kill myself,” Elizabeth said. She was looking at Monica who was avoiding her gaze. “That’s what those papers say, isn’t it? That I was using the threat of suicide to keep Jason from leaving me. From telling me he blamed for our daughter’s death. He was afraid to tell me. Afraid I meant it when I told him I’d throw myself out a window if I walked back into the apartment and saw Cady’s things.”

“Well, that’s just bullshit from top to bottom,” Sonny said with a scowl. “You might have been a pansy-assed Mama’s Boy, but you didn’t blame Elizabeth for the accident—”

“Like he would have told any of you,” Monica said finally. “You all would have taken her side! Talked him out of it! I was the only one who knew—” Her eyes burned into Elizabeth’s now. “I knew it was your fault, and it was only a matter of time before Jason came to his senses, and he did. That day. He came to me, and he told me he wanted to get rid of you.” She looked at Jason now, her eyes shifting, becoming softer. “You didn’t say it that way. You never would. I think even when you realized she was manipulating you, you still loved her. But you felt trapped—”

“Whatever I said or felt—I don’t anymore.” Jason set the divorce papers on the bar. “So I don’t know what you gain from being here right now. I don’t want a divorce, and I don’t care what you say—”

“But she does—” Monica stabbed a finger at Elizabeth. “You care, don’t you? If you’d known he wanted to be rid of you, you’d have taken that damn settlement and run—”

“How do we even know this is real?” Sonny reached for the papers, made a face. “I recognize the lawyer’s name. Cheap. Used by some of the girls when I was at the Paradise.” He set them back on the bar. “But that doesn’t mean you didn’t come up with this yourself—”

“It doesn’t matter what I think. Those papers—and those aren’t the originals,” Monica added, “those papers prove Jason wanted to be done with this marriage, and we’ll use them in probate court—”

“No, I don’t think you will.” Luke straightened, picked up the papers, flipped through them. “Because they don’t matter there. And the way I hear it, divorce court wasn’t really working for you either. No, this is a good old-fashioned guilt trip.”

Jason frowned at that for a minute, trying to work it out in his head, but saw Monica’s face flash with a hint of guilt. “You know you can’t use these in court. But you thought you could convince Elizabeth to walk away anyway. Because you know this would hurt her.”

“Jason, I’m doing what I think is best. For both of you. Elizabeth, all of this is just keeping you tied to the past—”

“I don’t know why you’re pretending to care about my emotional well-being right now,” Elizabeth said coolly, and Monica closed her mouth. “Fine. You’ve made your case. You’ve given me a copy of the papers. I’ll read them over and be in touch—”

“Why don’t you just burn them—”

“Because I want to know what else my husband told his mother,” Elizabeth cut Jason off without even looking at him. “And I want to think about what these papers mean.” She snatched the papers from Sonny, leaned down to grab her bag. “Sorry, Luke. I need the day.”

“Honey, why don’t you take a minute—”

“Elizabeth—”

But Elizabeth ignored all of them, and headed for the entrance. Jason wanted to follow, but first—

He looked at Monica, at the mother, and knew now he’d never think of her as anything else. “I left that house because all you did was tell me how to live. What to think. What to eat. How to breathe—”

“Jason—”

“I got out of there, and I’m making a life of my own. You don’t like it anymore than the one I had before the accident, so you’re trying to take it away. Again. I don’t know what the hell happened before the accident. If what’s in those papers is real—I don’t know, and I don’t care,” he said. “You came here to hurt Elizabeth, to convince her to walk away from me.”

“I won’t apologize for doing what’s best,” Monica said, with a lift of her chin. “One day, you’ll thank me—”

“One day, if I’m lucky, I won’t ever have to see you again,” Jason said. He looked at Luke. “I don’t want to leave you short-handed—”

“I’ll handle it. You go after her and fix this,” Luke said. He looked at Monica. “And Doc, you better get out while you’re still in one piece.”

—

He didn’t know where to find her, where she’d go, so he started with the only place he could think of — the apartment.

And he found her there, sitting on the sofa, the divorce papers in her hands. She didn’t look up when he came in. “Whatever those papers say, it’s not me.”

“No one was in the room when I told him I’d throw myself out the window,” Elizabeth said. “No one else could have told her that happened.” She looked at him, and all the life had come back into them—tears clung to her lashes. “No one but him.” Her lips trembled. “I know it doesn’t matter. It didn’t happen. He never filed them.”

It was almost a relief to realize she was separating them. “But it matters to you.”

“It’s all such a blur, you know.” Elizabeth used the heel of her hand to brush tears from her cheeks. “Everything after waking up in the hospital. Finding out she was gone. The funeral. Every day, I woke up in hell because I remembered all over again. Sometimes I thought I heard her crying, and I woke up to feed her, but she wasn’t there, and I had to remember. It was…” Her breath was shaky. “It was awful. I couldn’t separate reality from dreams. And most nights, I just cried, and he held me, and he cried, too, and I don’t know, I thought we were grieving together, but we weren’t.”

Elizabeth reached for the papers. “It talks about the accident. Lays out the facts. I took Cady to see Luke and Sonny. And I was going to start back slowly — just doing inventory, light tasks. But Laura came by, and she was playing with the baby, and I was having such a good time—it just slipped away, you know, and then you called, and I realized I was late, and Cady needed to be fed, so I put her in the car—” She looked at the papers. “None of that is in here. It just says the respondent took the child to a bar, and did not return when agreed.”

“It doesn’t say you worked there?”

“No. No. I don’t know if that was the lawyer distilling into the light that would look the worst for me, if it’s how—” Elizabeth hesitated. “I want to believe this a lie somehow. That I wasn’t oblivious—I never—I never thought he blamed me. He never once said it. But if he was really afraid I’d kill myself, then maybe—God, maybe he did feel trapped.” She shoved the papers aside, went into the kitchen and grabbed a cheap bottle of wine they kept in the fridge.

“It’s not even noon,” Jason said, rising to his feet.

“Well, according to those divorce papers, I’m a drunk who killed my daughter, so I think I deserve a glass of wine,” Elizabeth bit out. Then she closed her eyes. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Monica’s not wrong, you know. I did trap you.”

“What?” Jason frowned. “When?”

“I gave you a sob story about our dead daughter, and look, here you are. Back in my apartment. In my bed. Talking about refusing to divorce me. Just where we were a year ago—maybe I’ll get pregnant accidentally again, and we can run the whole damn scene back—” Abruptly, she sat down, her back sliding against the fridge, her legs stretched out in front of her. “That’s how she probably sees it. Just another manipulation from the gold digger.”

Uncertain, Jason sat next to her, wincing slightly as he tried to get into a comfortable position on the cracked linoleum. “You’re not a gold digger. And it wasn’t a sob story. It was the truth. We had a daughter. She died. We’re married. These were facts, Elizabeth. None of them were created by you to trap me.”

“I—”

“And you told me to go away,” Jason reminded her. She sighed, closed her eyes. “I didn’t. And Justus had the idea that I should move back in here. You didn’t do any of that on your own.”

“Emily thinks it’s like a fairy tale,” Elizabeth murmured. “She called last night to tell me Edward and Alan had the financial audit, and she was telling me it was like a movie. Separated by amnesia, and we’re still here.” She looked at him. “What do you think?”

“I don’t know about fairy tales or movies,” Jason said. “I just know—when I left the Quartermaines, I wanted to make my own life. My own decisions and choices. They never let me have any say without making me feel bad or angry about it. But Luke and Sonny gave me a job and a place to stay. I didn’t have to take it — I could have left. But I decided to stay. And then you showed up, and I did what I wanted. Even when it was hurting you,” he admitted. “But I know that everything got better after I moved in here.”

“Yeah, you’re having sex regularly,” she muttered.

“You told me that sex meant something to you,” he said, with a hint of irritation. “Did you mean it?”

“Yes. I’m sorry. I didn’t—” Elizabeth sighed. “I didn’t mean to make it sound…like that’s all there is. Or that it’s all you’re here for. I know it’s not. I just—” She twisted the ring on her finger. “I thought my life was over when I woke up in the hospital. I asked for Cady, and you just looked at me, and I knew, but I made you tell me because it wasn’t real until you said it.   I thought there was no reason to live, and that it would always hurt that way. But it didn’t…Christmas, you know, it should have been awful. Because she was supposed to be here. But I woke up on Christmas morning, and I looked at you, and I thought, I’ll be okay. Because I still had you. And we had each other, and we’d just keep holding on to that. It was a good day. The first one.”

“Elizabeth—”

“And I know you don’t remember it, and I can live with that. I know you’re not the same as before the accident, and who you are now is wonderful, and I don’t want to lose that. Because things got better after you moved in here,” she said, echoing his words. “But I’m just—if those papers are real, it shakes everything I thought about myself. Everything I thought about my life before, and I don’t know what’s real anymore. If I couldn’t see what was happening in front of my own face, if I couldn’t see that the most important person in my world was desperately unhappy with me—then how can I ever be sure of anything again?”

Jason got to his feet, then pulled her up after him, keeping his hands at her hips. “I don’t know what happened before,” he said. “If those papers are real, then I’m glad I got my head slammed into a rock—”

“Jason—”

“Because it would have been a mistake,” he told her and she looked at him, tears sliding down her cheeks again. “I don’t know if they’re real. I’ll find out because you should know one way or the other. But I promise you, right now, that I’ll never lie to you. I’ll never pretend to be happy when I’m angry. And if I want to leave, I’ll go.”

She rested her hands on his forearms, and he was relieved when he saw the first hint of a smile. “I’ll never lie to you, either. Or pretend to be happy when I’m sad or angry. And if I want to leave, I’ll go.”

“Good.” He drew her close, wrapping his arms around her, relieved when her body relaxed against him. And he made another promise to himself — that if he found out Monica was lying to him, he’d make her pay.

+31

Written in 62 minutes.

Emily heard her mother’s voice the moment she opened the front door and headed towards the parlor where she found the three family members she wanted to yell at the moment —

“I don’t know what you want me to do,” Edward retorted, waving a sheaf of papers in Monica’s face. “It doesn’t matter how many damn senators or congresspeople I call! This report is a death knell—”

“I just don’t understand—” Alan took the papers, staring at them, almost dazed. “Justus—he said it was hers — but I thought—”

“Oh, good, I was hoping I’d get to be here when you found out Jason was the freeloading gold digger.” Emily leaned against the door jamb, smirking when all three of them whirled around. “Go ahead, Dad. Tell me more about how you thought my best friend was only using Jason for his money.”

“Emily.” Alan set the report on a nearby table. “As I’ve told you—”

“No, no, Dad. I interrupted you. Go on, what did you think?” Emily arched on brow. “That they were living off the trust funds? That Elizabeth was, what, drinking away the money she made at Luke’s?”

“She’s a bartender,” Monica began, “at a seedy nightclub—”

“She’s the bar manager at a jazz and blue club that’s packed every night of the week. B.B. King was their opening act. Luke’s was good enough for you back then, Mom. You and Dad went to the opening party.”

Monica grimaced. “That was before—”

“Before what? Before Elizabeth went to work there? Before she started dating Jason? A bartender isn’t good enough for your precious son?”

“No. She isn’t. And I don’t care what that report says—she was biding her time,” Monica said. “Waiting until Jason came into the full trust fund, until he was done medical school—”

“And went into residency and internship, and the fellowship he’d need to be a surgeon. A decade of investment while she paid the bills.” Emily folded her arms. “You think she was playing the long game, huh?” She shook her head. “None of this matters, and you know it. That report just proves you were always wrong about her. And I don’t know what lies you’re telling, Mom, but the only way my brother was going to leave Elizabeth was in a body bag.”

“Emily, you were only here for a few weeks,” Edward said. “You can’t understand the pressure and worries we all had while Jason was in the first stages of his recovery—”

“You did something underhanded to get Jason put into a conservatorship, Grandfather. You control his money, his ability to get a job, to sign a contract, to find a place to live—you had him thrown out on the street. And while you were crippling any chance Jason had at independence away from all of you, you were systematically stripping Elizabeth of anything that connected her to Jason or this family. The money, the apartment that was Jason’s first, and I just bet there was something in there about relinquishing the name.”

“Well, naturally, in a divorce,” Edward muttered, but dropped his eyes to the ground.

“Who’s idea was it to say anything about a divorce?” Emily challenged. “Because it’s the first I’m hearing about it, and I think this is the kind of thing you run past your sister before you just up and leave your grieving wife—”

“You’re Elizabeth’s best friend,” Alan said. “Fiercely loyal to her. Of course Jason wouldn’t tell you that—”

“Jason and Elizabeth both knew I was a vault when they talked to me. You didn’t know that, of course, because you never bothered to get to know her. Jason talked to me all the time after Cady died.  I called him every day, Dad. Did you know that? The last time I spoke to him was the morning of his car accident. He was so angry because there was another story in the paper about Elizabeth, and she’d seen it. Accusing her of being the drunk driver — that the Quartermaines were covering up for her and that’s why they never found the actual driver.”

Alan shook his head. “No one in this family—”

“He wanted them to leave her alone. To leave him alone. Because how could they ever move on from, how could Elizabeth ever forgive herself if the world kept blaming her?”

“Whatever conversation you had with your brother, Emily, he had changed his mind. Because he was here that day to tell me,” Monica told her. “You don’t have to believe me—”

“Prove it,” Emily cut in, sharply, and Monica closed her mouth. “You can’t. It’s just another story you’re telling yourself because you can’t believe your precious perfect son fell in love with someone you didn’t pick out for him. I spent too long staying out of this. Avoiding the argument, letting Elizabeth tell me not to get involved. I never did enough when it could have mattered. I’m not doing it again. So you either make this conservatorship disappear, Grandfather, or I’ll be the next grand child that you don’t talk to. I’ve already spoken to a lawyer to help me liquidate my trust fund so you can’t threaten to stop paying for college.”

“Emily, just wait—”

“No. No. I’m done. I just went to see Jason and he’s happy. Because he’s away from you. What’s it gonna be, Grandfather? You gonna let me walk or are you going to set Jason free?”

“It’s not that simple,” Edward began, but Emily just turned and headed for the stairs. “Now just a minute—young lady, you come back here right now—”  A few moments later, a door slammed and he returned to the parlor, red-faced. “Damn it, Alan, can’t you control any of your children?”

Exhausted, Alan took a seat, reached for the financial papers. “She never spent a single dime of his trust fund,” he murmured. “Every deposit, every withdrawal in this account — it’s all her salary. And we took what was left, Father. Because we assumed—”

“They must have had some sort of understanding,” Edward said gruffly. “To keep him out of student loan debt. He could have asked for more money from the trust. Why didn’t he do that? Why let her pay for the everyday—”

“Because she could afford it.” Alan shook his head, a slight smile. “She made quite good money. And they paid her full salary while on her maternity leave.”

“I can’t believe what I’m hearing,” Monica said, disgusting. “You two fools started all of this, and now you’re throwing in the towel? So what if she paid a few bills for a year—she’s just better at manipulating than we thought. What about all the times Jason did ask us for money? For her?”

“For her art school tuition. We said no, and she didn’t go.” Alan looked at his father. “He told us she didn’t know he was asking, but we thought he was lying about that. But it was before they were dating—”

“Before they admitted to dating—” Monica tossed in.

“It would be like him,” Edward admitted. “Grand gesture. He was always a little sweet on her, you know. And—well, I have to admit—if we’d investigated the accounts before closing them—”

“We acted too rashly,” Alan said. He rose to his feet. “The grief of losing that little girl, and then the double tragedy of Jason’s accident, AJ’s issues — we should have taken a moment. I think—”

“Oh, well, this is just wonderful,” Monica said sourly. They both looked at her. “You find out she could support herself and now suddenly, you want to throw a ticker tape parade?”

“I never said that, Monica. I just—you reevaluate your position with new evidence. That’s just good business—”

“Good medicine,” Alan added. “We can rethink our position—”

“We’re so close to getting her out of his life,” Monica said. “We’ve been trying for over a year, and just when we’re in the home stretch, the two of you want to give up? If we can get him back in this house, if we can get him to listen to us, you said he was good in court. Maybe there’s still a chance he’ll think about medical school. Or law school. Or—”

“What makes you think we can get him to listen to us?” Edward said. “We miscalculated. You were right on the money there,” he admitted to Alan. “We pushed him too far, and made Elizabeth into the tragic heroine.”

“I’m going to vomit,” Monica muttered, folding her arms. “Fine. Emily wants proof? I’ll get her proof. Jason wanted to be done with that woman, and I’m going to make sure everyone knows it.”

—

“Don’t start that again,” Elizabeth warned, carrying their coffee mugs to the kitchen, the ceramic mugs clinking against each other.

“I wasn’t doing anything,” Jason said, leaning against the back of the sofa, with a grin that belied his words. “You can get someone to do the inventory, and we can—”

Elizabeth glanced around the edge of the cabinet, then her cheeks pinked up. “Put your shirt back on. You know I can’t think when you do that.”

“Then why—” Jason stooped to snag the blue shirt from the ground as he joined her in the kitchen. “Why did you take it off me in the first place?”

“It’s your fault,” she muttered, but her ire was only for show. He wrapped his arms around her waist, tugging her back against him, leaning down to kiss the side of her neck, nibbling gently below her ear. “This is why we never get anything done.”

“Not on your list, no. But we always finish mine.” His fingers, warm against her belly, crept beneath the hem of her shirt. “Call Claude. He’ll do the inventory—”

She was tempted, she really was, but— Elizabeth ducked out of his arms, covered her eyes. “I did that last week. And Claude’s not scheduled today. Put the shirt one.”

She heard him laughing. “Fine. You can look now.”

Elizabeth peeked between her fingers, and sighed in a mixture of disappointed relief. “Thank you. Was that so hard—don’t answer that,” she ordered when he just grinned again. She started past him, pausing at the door to the bathroom. “And because two can play that game—remember the other night? In the shower? Well, imagine me all alone, with the soap and water—”

He scowled. “That’s not fair—”

“Exactly.” She smirked, closed the door behind her, and immediately started the shower. Jason wasn’t the only one who knew how to be distracting.

—

Still enjoying her good mood, Elizabeth was humming when she arrived at the club forty minutes later, her hair still a little damp and tucked up in a clip. If she was quick and efficient, she could be finished inventory before Jason showed up to help with deliveries, and just maybe she’d let him talk to her in the sky diving lessons he was going to book this weekend.

Maybe.

She was halfway through counting the liquor behind the bar when she heard the door open, followed by footsteps. “You’re early,” she sang out, not turning around. “And you’re not going to distract me again—”

“I’m afraid that I don’t have a choice.”

The tone was short, clipped, and the temperature in the room felt as though it had dropped twenty degrees. Elizabeth slowly turned, found Monica on the other side of the bar, her coat over her arm and brown leather portfolio tucked under the other one. She set the clipboard down on the bar. “We’re not open.”

“I know. I also know this is your morning to work in the club alone,” Monica said. She set her things on the bar, flipped open the portfolio. “I didn’t think we needed an audience for this conversation.”

“No, you never do.” A smile tugged at her lips. “Makes it easier for you deny it later. What’s it going to be this time, Monica? Have you increased your price again?”

“You had your chance to take that offer. To take any of the generous offers my family have made to you over the last eighteen months, but you were holding out for something better. And you were right.” Monica reached for Elizabeth’s left hand, and she snatched it back. “You’ve got the ring, the name, and no prenuptial agreement. The trifecta of the successful golddigger.”

“Well, I talked to Emily, so I know that you got the copy of the audit of our accounts. But if I know you, Monica, and I think I do—” Elizabeth tipped her head. “You immediately fit that into the narrative and rewrote the story to fit your needs. I was playing the long game, right? Banking on that rich, successful surgeon I’d trapped into marriage. Everyone knows you can’t make any real money without investing your own.”

“At least you admit it—”

“I admit that you know how a golddigger thinks. I mean, my father wasn’t good enough for you,” Elizabeth said, and Monica clenched her jaw. “And when you had the chance to be with your true love—my uncle—you chose the cheating bastard who had tried to kill you. And who kept having affairs. How many is Alan up to now, Monica?”

“You have no right—”

“You think you see yourself in me,” Elizabeth said. “I’ve always known that. I never told Jason why you’re so convinced I’m just here for the name and the money. See, he still loved you. Still wanted to believe in you and his father, and the whole family. But I don’t have to worry about that anymore. And it’s all thanks to you. Jason wants nothing to do with any of you.”

“You think he’ll want you after he’s used you?” Monica asked. “I know all about that divorce case. He’s staying with you because he needs you to get out of this ridiculous mess Alan and Edward created. But what happens when that’s over, Elizabeth?” She leaned in. “What happens to you when Jason’s bored and wants to move on? You need to think about the future.”

“A few months ago, that might have hurt,” Elizabeth said. “It might have shaken me because I’ve asked myself that a time or two. But here’s the thing, Monica, whatever happens when Jason’s finally free of your family, is between him and me. Just like it always has been. Whether we sink or swim—whether we’re together for a century or divorced in six months, that’s going to be a decision we make. Not you.”

“Is it though?” Monica slid a sheaf of papers out of portfolio, turned it around so that it faced Elizabeth. “Because Jason made that decision before the accident. Emily said you wanted proof. Here you go.”

Elizabeth didn’t want to look down. Couldn’t bear it. But finally she dropped her eyes and her belly clutched.

Action for Divorce. Jason Morgan Quartermaine, Plaintiff against Elizabeth Imogene Quartermaine, defendant. Grounds for divorce, cruel and inhumane treatment—

“I didn’t want it to come to this,” Monica said, almost kindly. “For all your faults, Elizabeth, no woman wants to read what their husband really thinks about them. But you wanted proof. Go ahead. Call the lawyer. I did when Jason gave them to me. I was sure that it was a lie, but he confirmed Jason was his client and had drawn up the papers. You see, Jason came to apologize to me. After that last story, it was just too much.”

Elizabeth looked up. “He didn’t believe it—”

“He didn’t know that no one had ever tested your blood. And you had just come from a bar—he’d already blamed you, Elizabeth. For months. For taking his daughter there in the first place. But he couldn’t tell you. He was afraid you’d kill yourself. After all, didn’t you threaten to throw yourself out the window when he brought you home after the hospital?”

“How—” Elizabeth’s lips trembled. “How did you know that?”

“Jason told me.” Monica’s eyes were steady. “That day. He’d blamed you from the first, but he’d thought it was irrational. The horror of the grief. And it just kept eating at him until he couldn’t take it anyway. Even that last day, even at the end of his rope, Elizabeth, he was still so worried you’d hurt yourself. That’s what you did to him. You trapped him with that baby, and then you trapped him all over again with your threats of suicide. I’m asking you, mother to mother, to let my son go.”

+20

Written in 60 minutes.

“Where’s Grandfather?”

Ned tossed aside the newspaper, smiled broadly, rising to his feet. “Emily! I didn’t know you were coming in this morning—”

“I wanted the element of surprise.” Emily Quartermaine dropped her purse on the sofa, planted one hand on her hip. “I have a list of people to yell at, and I didn’t want anyone hiding from me. I’m starting with the most guilty and working my way down.”

Ned made a face. “Lois said you were angry on the phone—”

“Angry isn’t the word. Apocalyptically furious. I was so mad that I called Elizabeth on the phone and said a bunch things I have to apologize for because—” Emily shook her head. “No. No, I’ll deal with that later. First. Grandfather.”

“He’s at ELQ—”

“Then that’s where I’ll go—” Emily turned on her heel, then bumped right into her father. “Oof—Oh, okay, you know what? You’ll do—”

“Emily!” Alan embraced his daughter before she could stop him. “We didn’t think to expect you for another week! How was the flight—”

“Don’t act like this is a happy visit,” Emily bit out, and Alan’s smile faded. “What did you think, Dad? That I’d be in California and that was another universe? Or did you count on Elizabeth not telling me because she never puts me in the middle of the bullshit you people pull—”

“I don’t think much about what Elizabeth does or doesn’t do,” Alan said carefully. “Do I get a chance to defend myself or have you made up your mind—”

“There’s a defense, Dad? Really? For getting a conservatorship? For making sure Jason was practically homeless and ready to beg on the streets? And don’t tell me that I have Elizabeth’s side—that’s what you always do. You always act like she’s lying, and she never is—”

“So you’ve made up your mind without hearing all the facts.” Alan pressed his lips together. “You’re not even going to give me the benefit of the doubt—”

“Because you’re wrong,” Ned offered helpfully, as he sat back down, reached for the paper. “You know you are. That’s why you kept it a secret for so long.” He shrugged, flipped to the business section.

“Since the second Jason brought Elizabeth into this house, you and Grandfather have lost your freaking minds,” Emily said flatly. “She’s been my best friend for ages and I never did enough to defend her. But you always acted like she wasn’t good enough for me, and I don’t know why Jason ever put up with the same attitude from you guys. You put Jason into a conservatorship, Dad! And you were going to evict Elizabeth from her home!”

“I—” Alan took a deep breath. “Look, it started as a way to protect Jason. You don’t understand. He doesn’t remember what it was like at the end. He wanted a divorce—”

Emily stepped back, her eyes wide. “What are you talking about? Jason never wanted—no. You’re wrong. You’re absolutely wrong—”

“Honey—”

“I’ve been trying to tell him that since the hearing,” Ned said. “But somehow your mother convinced him that’s what Jason wanted.”

Emily shook her head, bewildered. She looked from her cousin back to her father. “Mom says this? Why? When did Jason even come here to say that? He was barely talking to you guys before the accident. And don’t blame Elizabeth for that. She’s not the one that told the paper she’d hadn’t had her blood tested for alcohol. Jason was so mad, Dad, and I just know it was Mom or Grandfather—”

“Is that why he stopped coming around here after the funeral?” Ned wanted to know. “Because of that story?”

“I don’t know why he’d think we’d want that story out there,” Alan said. “You must have misunderstood—”

“Jason never would have divorced Elizabeth, so whatever Mom’s cooked up this time, you can tell her to forget it. I’m so mad at you, Dad.” A tear slid down Emily’s cheek and Alan looked away. “So mad. You actually had me questioning my own best friend because I started to ask myself why didn’t she just tell me all of this was going on — why does she never ask me for help with any of you? I would have taken her side, she has to have to known that—but after Jason yelled at me, and I hung up on him, I started to think about it. I started to think about he never really defended her either. And I didn’t do enough. We let you and Mom and Grandfather torture her.”

“I never—”

“You made sure she never felt good enough to be in this family. Because now I know why Elizabeth never told me. She didn’t think I’d support her. Well, she’s wrong about that Dad. Because I’m home, and I’m going to make it my life’s mission to make sure my best friend and my brother are free of this lunatic asylum, so when you see Mom and Grandfather, you’d better tell them that. You are done playing games with other people’s lives.”

Emily shoved past him, and a few minutes later, they heard the front door slam.

Alan exhaled slowly, dragged a hand down his face. “She just—she’s too young to understand—”

“Understand what?” Ned set the paper aside again, looked at his uncle. “Because I don’t get it either. What crime did Elizabeth Webber ever commit that made you go to this much trouble to be rid of her?”

“Jason was going places until he met her,” Alan said, though his voice lacked some conviction. “He could have gone to one of the best medical schools in the country, been matched to any hospital—”

“But he didn’t want that. He wanted to be here, and he was happy with his choices.” Ned got to his feet. “You know, the only way I could see Jason divorcing Elizabeth if he’d convinced himself she was better off without him. If he could see what you’ve done in his name—well, he’d be as mad as the man who woke up with his face is.” Ned just shook his head. “I don’t know if you’ll ever be able to admit you were wrong, Alan. It’s a shame.”

—

Elizabeth set the last box by the sofa, then looked  back at the second bedroom — it was empty now. Clothes had been packaged up for donations, the nursery furniture had been taken to storage—on its way to a thrift store. Even if Elizabeth had children again, she wouldn’t want to use Cady’s things.

Photos had been carefully packed into shoeboxes, waiting to be put into albums. Some of the frames had been moved back into the living room — including the one Jason had barely been able to put down — one of her favorites of Jason napping on the sofa after a long day at medical school, Cady curled up on his chest.

She looked at it now, wondering what about this photo had inspired him to ask about videos. To want to know more. It seemed almost fantastical that somehow he’d been able to develop a connection to their little girl — that he’d been able to love her, even a little.

She jolted at the knock on the door, setting the frame back down. When she peered through the window and saw Emily, she almost considered pretending not to be home. But that was the coward’s way out, and too often, Elizabeth had let the Quartermaines walk all over her.

“I know you’re mad at me,” Emily said, her voice muffled through the wood. “I’d be mad at me, too. I’m a horrible best friend who for, like five minutes, let myself believe the worst. But I want to apologize.”

Elizabeth bit her lip, then pulled the door open. “This isn’t a trick, is it?” she asked, stepping back. “Because I’m not in the mood.”

“No, I get that.” Emily shuffled, wrinkled her nose. “I’m awful, Liz. I don’t even have a good reason for that freak out other than I wanted to blame you. It was easier to do that,” she added, “than admit that I’d run away to California and I wasn’t asking questions.”

She stepped inside the apartment, saw the second bedroom door open. “Oh. You—you’ve been in Cady’s room?”

“We cleaned it out last week,” Elizabeth said, closing the door. “I thought it be a fun way to celebrate our one year anniversary.”

“You and Jason?” Emily set her purse down. “How did he, I mean, how’s he doing with all of this? When I left, he was running from everything that made him Jason Quartermaine, but Lois said you guys were living together. That you’re still married.”

“For now,” Elizabeth said, nervously twisting her ring. “It’s supposed to help get him out of conservatorship. If we’re married, I can petition to be co-conservator. And make it go away.”

“Oh.” Emily paused. “Is that—is that why you cleaned out…the bedroom? For him?”

“No.” Elizabeth folded her arms. “It’s…” Her cheeks heated. “We’re…I guess we’re together. Though it’s hard to really…explain.”

“You and—” Mystified, Emily followed her into the kitchen. “You and Jason? But he didn’t want to even call me  his sister, and I was one of the people he liked. Well, until a few weeks ago,” she admitted with a grimace. “And Grandmother—he likes her, too—”

“It’s not…it’s not like that. I mean, it is—” Elizabeth leaned against one of the counters. “That part of is it separate. We’re together, but we’re not married. I mean we are, but it’s—it’s separate.”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” her friend said. “You’re married. You still have the rings on. Does he?”

“No. I don’t know what happened to his—I figured it got lost in the hospital—” Elizabeth shook her head. “The marriage part of it — it’s just legalities. We’re not calling each other husband and wife or anything. And I have his last name because, well, I’d already changed my name. But what we’re—we’re separate. It’s just for us.”

“Oh.” Emily pursed her lips. “No, I still don’t get it.”

“I don’t really know how to explain it. I know a lot of people would just think I’m taking advantage of him. I worried maybe I was, too. Like you said — he was out of options when Luke offered the job,” Elizabeth said, and Emily made a face. “But I didn’t know that. I was avoiding everything to do with him. Luke forced me to face it, and I did. He’s…I know he’s Jason. I know that. But he’s not Jason, you know? He’s different.”

“I guess. I mean, I only got to know him a little bit before I went back to school.” Emily chewed on her bottom lip. “But aren’t you worried after he gets out of this conservatorship and doesn’t need you anymore, he’ll just…leave you?”

“Well, if you believe your family, he was going to leave me anyway,” Elizabeth muttered, looking towards the wall. “So, what’s the difference?”

“I don’t believe them,” Emily said, and Elizabeth looked back at her. “You couldn’t see Jason. You know? You were grieving so hard, I think you were both a little blind to each other those last few weeks. He wanted to help you, but you…I don’t know if you were ready to be helped. And I’m not judging you,” she added hastily. “What happened—it was so awful. And it kept getting bad, and Jason was just killing himself trying to come to terms with all of it. But he was never thinking about leaving you. You know that, don’t you? You didn’t really believe it?”

“I—” Elizabeth sighed. “I don’t know. We argued after that last story was in the papers. I just wanted to be left alone, and I knew it was from your family. I just never told you that. I knew all the leaks — I knew it was from them. They knew where we lived, when I was getting out of the hospital, where the funeral would be — Jason never would have sold me out. Neither would Luke or Sonny.”

“But my parents might have. Or Grandfather. Yeah, Jason was almost sure of it, too,” Emily said. “We talked about it, and he was so angry, Elizabeth. At them.”

“Maybe. I don’t know. I just—I can’t keep thinking about it, Em. I just can’t. Whatever Jason wanted to do—it didn’t happen. And that version of him is gone. He won’t ever come back. The man who woke up from that coma? He didn’t know me, he didn’t remember our daughter.” Elizabeth closed her eyes. “That really hurt for a while, and I thought I needed to be away from him. But Justus came up with this idea, and it needed me and Jason to be together. So I agreed.” She rubbed her fist against her chest. “Do you know he was angry with me after that phone call with you?”

“He was mad at you?” Emily asked. “What? Why? You didn’t even do anything, except not tell me what was going on, and I figured out why eventually. I really so sorry—I know I have to stop just freaking out and slow down before I hurt people.”

“He was mad because I didn’t fight back. I let you yell at me, Em, and I barely defended myself. Your family? I barely fought back there, too. And I never stood up for myself.  I never expected you, too. I never thought Jason would take my side. So I never asked him to.”  She smiled faintly. “But I got angry with Jason, and I stood up for myself when he was asking questions I didn’t want to answer, and he liked me better for it. I liked myself, too. I was able to look at photos and videos of Cady again. To pack up her room with love, and not avoid her like she never existed.”

“Because of Jason?” Emily asked, her eyes shimmering. “He did it with you, you said. I’m glad. I’m glad he could help you. That you were ready for it.”

“Me, too. I don’t know what’s going to happen with Jason, but right now, I’m almost happy. And I never thought I’d get back there.”

“I’m so glad.” Emily stepped forward, pulled Elizabeth into a fierce, tight hug. “I’m sorry my family sucks so hard and I won’t wait for you to ask for help next time. I’m going to just be there. I already yelled at Dad. Mom and Grandfather are next.”

“I don’t want you to be in the middle—”

“I know. But they’re the ones putting me there, not you.” Emily stepped back. “And it’s time I took a side.”

Elizabeth started to respond, but the door opened behind them, and Jason stepped in, his expression cooling when he saw Emily.

“Jason. Um. Hey.” Emily took a hesitant step. “I came…to apologize. About the phone call. To both of you—”

“Elizabeth is the one you owed the apology to,” Jason said shortly. He tossed his jacket aside, looked at Elizabeth. “Are you okay?”

“I’m good. I really am. Emily and I cleared everything up.”

“Okay, then that’s all that matters.” Jason came into the kitchen, opened the fridge and removed a beer. “Justus called while I was at the club,” he told Elizabeth. “He got a court date with probate court. Next month.”

“That’s so far away.” Elizabeth wrinkled her nose. “But I guess it could have been worse.”

“Yeah.” He popped the cap off the bottle. “He said he got the financial audit back. The money in the bank account was yours. All of it.”

“Bank account?” Emily asked, looking back and forth between them. “What’s that about?”

Elizabeth sighed. “Edward and Alan closed our bank accounts — and I found out Luke and Sonny had been paying my full salary even though I was on maternity leave. According to Justus, the money that was in the account—that was taken — it was mine.”

“They stole from you?” Emily clenched her jaw. “That’s ridiculous—”

“Justus said you were supporting me,” Jason said, and Emily’s jaw dropped as Elizabeth made a face. “All the trust fund money went to tuition and savings. You were paying the day to day.” A wry smile. “He says he can’t wait to tell Alan and Edward that I was the freeloader in the marriage.”

Elizabeth snorted, rolled her eyes and took the beer when he offered her a drink. “You were not. I don’t care that I was paying the bills right now. It would have evened out eventually.”

“This is insane,” Emily said, touching her forehead. “All this time, Mom’s been bemoaning all this money you supposedly took from Jason, but—”

“I apparently never took a cent,” Elizabeth said. She handed the beer back to Jason. “You know, Justus is right. It’s going to be amazing when I get to shove that proof in their judgemental faces — I was the one putting their kid through med school, not them. Sorry, Em,” she added, almost as an afterthought.

“No, I’m completely on your side. I just wish I could be there when they found out. Their heads are going to explode.”

“If only that were actually true,” Jason muttered. Emily choked back a giggle, then Elizabeth snickered, and they both started to laugh.

+31

Written in 65 minutes.

The door to the second bedroom had only been opened once since that terrible night — the day she and Jason had stood in the apartment, and he’d asked her for more pictures. Elizabeth had given him the only pictures she allowed herself — the family photo from her wallet and those inside the baby book she’d given him.

She’d thrown out the idea to clean Cady’s room almost as a dare to herself than an actual plan. If she said it, if she made a date and a promise, well, then she’d have to actually do it, wouldn’t she?

And yet.

Elizabeth stood halfway between the kitchen and the door, her fingers curled around a cup of coffee, staring at the closed white door. Behind her, she heard the click of the coffee pot—Jason switching it off after pouring the last cup.

“We don’t have to do this,” he said, coming up behind her. “We can do something else today.”

“Maybe skydiving,” she murmured. “I think I’d rather jump out of a plane.”

“Elizabeth—”

“I told you, didn’t I, that I refused to come into the apartment after I got out of the hospital. I knew there were pictures everywhere. I framed everything — ultrasounds, her first day at home. Her first morning in her crib. Her first—” She cleared her throat. “There were toys. And baby things everywhere.”

“You said you made me clean it up,” Jason said, and she looked at him, leaning against the wall.

“A horrible thing to ask. I don’t know if I really understood how much I was asking of him—you—” she corrected, almost absently, as if Jason’s use of the pronoun had made her feel safe to use it, too. “You never even blinked. Never argued. Never said a word. You just turned me around, put me back in the car, and drove me to Luke’s. When I got home, it was like she ever existed. Out here. I thought it made it easier. And maybe it did for me. But I took her away from you, too. And now—” She finally looked at him again. “Now I regret it. Because you don’t remember her, and I feel like I stole those final weeks.”

“I can’t speak for who I used to be,” Jason said. He hesitated. “But I hope I would have understood.”

“Maybe you did. I found the baby book after the accident. It was in the desk,” she said. “Between tax forms and bank statements — somewhere you knew I’d never look. I felt better when I found that.” She exhaled slowly. “I’m sorry. I know you don’t want to think about before the accident — that it’s separate for you—”

“I’ll let you know when I get annoyed,” he interrupted, and her smile was faint. “Justus said maybe it was easy for me to do that, but I couldn’t force everyone to feel the same way. And maybe—” he shook his head, sipped the coffee, considering what he wanted to say. “Maybe it’s selfish to want people who used to know me to act like I’m someone different.”

“I think you get to be a little selfish, Jason, with everything you’ve gone through.” She bit her lip. “You are different. I mean, you’re the same person. But your personality, it’s…you don’t care so much about taking care of people’s feelings—” She winced. “That sounds terrible—”

“Customer told me last night I was a rude asshole when I decked him for pinching the waitress,” Jason offered. “I’m okay with that.”

“You used to…” She drew her brows together. “You worried a lot about what other people thought. About you. About your intentions. It’s not that it made you less honest — but sometimes, you weren’t always clear. That’s…I think that’s the biggest change. You say what you think and there’s not three layers to dig out what you feel.”

“I figure it makes it easier to know where you stand when you just say what you really mean.” He retrieved her cup from the desk, went to the kitchen and ran some water. “Why did you want to clean out her room today?”

“Because it has to be done, and I—I think—” Elizabeth looked down at her fingers, twisting the ring on her finger. “I think it’s the last thing I get to do as her mother. And if you help—it’s…”

“The only thing I get to remember about being her father,” Jason finished. Her throat tight, she could only nod.

“And maybe if we did it together, it might not hurt so much,” Elizabeth said.

“Then let’s see if we can do it.” Jason held out his hand. “And if it doesn’t work, I’ve got the number for a skydiving place. We can start lessons.”

She laughed, but took his head, and together they approached the closed the door. She touched it first with her fingertips, then slid her hand down to the knob, twisting it.

And pushed it open.

Sunlight from the window streamed in—illuminating the thin layer of dust on every surface.  In the center of the room sat a white wooden crib with a soft yellow blanket hanging over the end, the mobile with ducks still dangling. A matching wooden dresser in the corner, and next to it a changing table.

There was a tall set of shelves — they’d been half empty the last time she’d been in this room, but now there were picture frames filling them.

Elizabeth released his hand, walked to the shelf, and picked up the first one she saw. In the hospital, taken only a few hours after labor. She was holding Cady, a squalling red-faced baby bundled up in the hospital’s white and blue linen. She was grinning at whoever was taking the camera, Jason leaning in, one arm extending over her head, the other braced against the bed.

Their first photo as a family. She touched Jason’s face. His hair was longer, but his smile was the same. How could the woman in this photo ever think that her life was be dismantled piece by piece only months after it was taken?

With trembling fingers, Elizabeth set the frame back on the shelf, cleared her throat, looked over the room—found Jason still in the doorway. “I thought…the clothes. They’re clean. Some of them weren’t even—” She folded her arms. “I could pack them into some brown bags. I’m sure there’s a thrift store or a shelter that would appreciate them.”

“Do you want me to do that?” he asked, almost gently. “It might be easier—”

“No. Um, no. I was hoping—” She exhaled in a shaky breath. “Could you take these photos? Um, out of the frames. I have a shoebox for them for now. But later, I want—I want to put them into albums. So I can take them down and look at them.”

“Yeah, I can do that.”

“Okay. That’s a good enough place to start.” Elizabeth brushed past him, heading the kitchen where she’d stowed the bags.

——

Had it only been a month since Jason had stood in the living room, and asked to see more photos? Only a month since he’d learned about the baby whose entire existence had come and gone before his memories stopped.

It’s not fair to put you through this just so I can maybe one day feel a connection to her.

Jason picked up another frame, this one with his face looking back at him. He knew it well enough now that it didn’t take much to understand the image. He was laying on the sofa—he recognized it from the living room. His eyes were closed, and the baby was stretched out on his chest, her head tucked under his chin. They were both sleeping.

What had it been like, he wondered, to hold something that small? Something that came from you? A person who hadn’t existed until you’d met someone else, and together, you’d made someone new.

He heard a dresser drawer, and looked over to find Elizabeth carefully taking a stack of clothes from inside and setting it into the brown paper bag open at her feet. The clothes were so small, he thought. And in the photo, the baby hadn’t even been reached longer than the end of his ribs.

“How much did she weigh?” Jason asked, the words leaving his mouth before they’d even formed in his mind.

Elizabeth blinked, then cleared her throat. “Nine pounds, twelve ounces.”

Not even ten pounds. Christ.

“I can bench 150 pounds,” Jason said, which was stupid thing to say, but it was all he could think. 150 pounds. That was fifteen times what his daughter had weighed when she’d—

His fingers clenched the frame more tightly, his chest aching. It was stupid, he thought. To get upset because he didn’t remember holding a baby he’d never met.

But she wasn’t just a face in a photo, the way she’d been the first day — when looking at himself before the accident holding her had been something like a novelty. You could see emotions in photos, he’d realized. Learn from them.

And she’d been a ghost in this apartment since the moment he’d stepped foot inside, the closed door haunting Elizabeth every day. How had she been able to keep moving forward? To keep breathing? She remembered everything.

The baby had been a fact about himself, something he’d learned about on his own. But he didn’t feel anything more than that—not really. He hadn’t known what it meant to love anything or anyone. Not then.

But now—looking at a picture of himself in a quiet moment with the daughter he’d never know—

Pressure built behind his eyes, and they began to sting.

“Jason?” Elizabeth’s voice was quiet. She’d come closer when he’d replied to her, but he hadn’t noticed. “Are you okay?”

“I—” His voice cracked, and his cheeks flooded with heat. He set the photo down almost with a thud. “I’m fine.”

Her fingertips skimmed his jaw, cool to the touch. “What’s wrong?”

“I just…” He lifted his gaze to her. “I won’t ever remember her. I don’t know what she sounded like when she cried or how it felt to hold her—I can’t learn those facts from anyone else but you and it’s not fair—”

“Jason.” Elizabeth pressed a hand against his shoulder, so that he’d face her more directly. “Come with me.”

He frowned, but she took his head and pulled, so he followed. They went into the living room, and Elizabeth opened a cabinet where he knew she kept her movies. She pulled out a tape, then slid it into the VCR above the television.

“Here. Here, um—” She found the remote. “I know you don’t do well with the moving part of it, but if you just close your eyes—”

Jason felt like an idiot, then closed his eyes. He heard sounds in the background. A door opening, closing. Then voices.

“Jason, don’t point that thing at me!” Elizabeth, sounding so much happier, almost laughing. “I look so awful!”

“You look beautiful,” came the response, and Jason frowned, because it—that was him, wasn’t it? He’d heard his voice on recordings at the hospital, after therapy sessions with the doctors.

“I do not—you’re a terrible liar—Cady, tell Daddy not to lie to Mommy—”

There was a thin cry, then a louder wail, and then the voices again.

“See? Cady doesn’t like it when you accuse me of lying. That’s right, you have Daddy’s back—” There was laughter in the male voice, even over the sound of the baby crying. After another moment, the crying faded.

“Twelve hours of labor, and she’s already got you wrapped around her finger. Daddy’s girl.”

The sounds stopped, and Jason opened his eyes. He looked at Elizabeth who was staring at the screen, tears sliding down her cheek. He turned around, and she’d frozen the picture—paused it, so that he could see himself, holding a swaddled bundle, grinning down at the baby who wasn’t crying anymore.

“I don’t—I don’t know if that helped,” she tried, lifting the remote again, but Jason closed his hand over it, his eyes still locked on the screen.

It was real. All of it. He’d been a person before the accident, a person with a full life, happy life. A family.

He knew what his daughter sounded like. And that she’d stopped crying when he’d held her. His daughter. Cadence Audrey. Cady.

She’d been his, and he’d never know her. It was just like that day, holding the photograph. Seeing her had made it a real fact that he’d learned all on his own. The first moment, really, that he’d been able to do that. He’d learned her name on his own.

And hearing her—hearing himself talk to her—

He’d learned something else. You could create a feeling from nothing more than series of facts and images and stories, and he’d been doing that little by little over these last few weeks. Finding those pieces of the Jason he didn’t know.

“Jason?”

And now, all those pieces had formed not just a picture, but a person. They’d given him just a brief glimpse of what it had been like to be a father.

He’d loved his daughter. And standing here now, sorting through the memories left behind, Jason knew that he’d learned to love her again.

His cheeks were wet when he looked at her. “How did you do it?” he asked, his voice almost hoarse. “How did you keep breathing?”  How was he supposed to just keep living—

“I don’t know,” she admitted, her smile wobbly. “I just did. I’m sorry. I just wanted you to hear her—”

“Thank you. For — for giving her back to me.” He leaned his forehead against hers. “Can you  let it keep playing? Or will that be too hard for you?”

As her answer, Elizabeth aimed the remote at the television, and the sounds of their former life filled the room.

+33

The days rolled past, blurring together without much difference. There were the work shifts — usually together, but sometimes Jason found himself on the closing shift while Elizabeth worked the opening or happy hour. There were the bike rides which were his favorite way to end the day. No matter how late they finished at work or how late he came home from closing, she was always up to head up to the cliff roads overlooking the lake.

Jason didn’t just spend time with Elizabeth or work at the bar. He took her suggestion to ask Sonny about the gym he ran downtime, and he found himself learning how to box, taking a few rounds in the ring with some of the guys.

And she was still working her way down a list of hobbies for them to try — he was hoping to get her to add bungee jumping or sky diving. They both looked fun, but so far Elizabeth didn’t seem so interested, and Sonny had just snorted and walked away. Maybe that could be something he’d do on his own.

It was almost a week before he thought about the court case again, and only because Justus came in during the lull between happy hour and the later drinkers. Jason grimaced at the sight of his lawyer—he mostly wanted to ignore that whole other side of his life. The Quartermaines had backed off on Elizabeth’s eviction papers, and he hadn’t been thrown out of his place of work or living in almost a month.

But Justus was there to remind him that there was still a battle be waged.

“Hey.” Justus set the briefcase on the bar, shot him an easy smile as he slid onto the bar stool. “Elizabeth around?”

“In the back with Mike. You want me to get her?”

“No, that’s okay. We got a hearing set in probate court next month — Elizabeth and I will have to get together to handle her petition to be appointed co-conservator—I hate it, too,” he said when Jason just scowled. “But if we win, she can turn around and ask the court to dismiss the whole thing. It’s the cleanest way out of this—unless we can get the Quartermaines to back down another way.”

“Do you have a way?” Jason wanted to know. “Because if you do—”

“Outside blowing this up in the press, no. But I get it, Elizabeth doesn’t want that. And after the hearing in family court, I don’t blame her. The judge might not care about your intentions before the accident, but I just imagine the tabloids sinking their teeth into it.” Justus paused. “On that topic—”

“I don’t care what the truth is,” Jason cut in. “It doesn’t matter. Whatever stupid thing I was going to do or not do, it didn’t happen. And I don’t remember, so just drop it—”

“For what it’s worth, I talked to Ned. You were closer to him than anyone else in the family at the time,” Justus added. “And he categorically denied that you would have ever planned something like that. And if you had, Monica wouldn’t be the first person you’d go to. He thinks he would have known.”

“I said it doesn’t matter—”

“To you. And that’s fine. But maybe it does to Elizabeth. She put a lot on the line to fight the divorce, Jason. I think she deserves to know if her husband was willing to fight that hard for her—”

“Even if he wasn’t, I am. So, like I said—”

“Is it really that simple for you?” Justus asked, cocking his head. “That’s not your life, so nothing about it matters. No one and nothing that existed before you woke up, it’s just—” He made a gesture with his hand. “It just—poofs! Like Magic. Disappears?”

Jason frowned. “What do you expect me to do?”

“Nothing, I just—” Justus shook his head, backed away from the bar. “Tell Elizabeth to give me a call. We need to get together on the presentation to the judge—”

“You think it matters to Elizabeth what he was planning?” Jason said. Justus hesitated. “That’s what you’re saying. It matters to her. Because she doesn’t see us as different people.”

“You’re not different,” Justus said simply. “Physically, you’re the same. Maybe it helps you to think of the man you used to be as a separate person, and I can sort of understand that. But that doesn’t obligate everyone around you to accept that. The Quartermaines are what they are — a ruthless, take no mercy family that drove AJ to drink, you to overachieve, and your sister to run as far away as she could get. Not wanting to be part of that? I respect it. I don’t always know that I want to be part of that legacy either. But you weren’t a bad guy, Jason. There’s no reason to throw everything you used to be away. No, I don’t think Elizabeth has entirely accepted that you aren’t the same. Maybe she wants to. Maybe you need her to. But she’s not the kind of woman who throws that kind of relationship away so easily.”

Long after Justus had left, Jason was considering what his parting words. Did it ultimately matter what had happened before the accident? Was Justus right? Was Elizabeth owed some sort of closure?

And what did it mean for Jason to have rejected so many pieces of who he’d been before, but to have ended up mostly living the same life in a lot of ways. He lived in the same apartment with the same woman. He carried the same name. And the Quartermaines were still controlling his life.

“I hate tax season,” Sonny muttered, emerging from the back offices. “I need a bourbon. Top shelf.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Next year, Luke’s going to tell at the accountants.”

“I thought you didn’t want anyone else messing with your money.” Jason set the tumbler of dark liquid in front of Sonny. “Isn’t that what you said?”

“I hate that you listen.” Sonny drank half the glass in one quick gulp. “Slow night. Elizabeth in the kitchen?”

“Yeah. Something about menus and drink specials.” Jason grimaced, glancing towards the back of the bar, where a pair of doors led to the kitchen. “You know about the divorce hearing, right? Elizabeth tells Luke everything, and he—”

“Tells me. Yeah. The Quartermaines launched another one of their sneak attacks. Lousy bastards. You might have been a wussy mama’s boy, Jason, but you weren’t the kind of the guy who files for divorce without telling your wife.” Sonny sipped the bourbon. “Why?”

Jason considered his next words, unsure how to articulate what was bothering him. “Do you think the truth matters?”

“The truth?” Sonny echoed. He squinted. “Depends on who you ask. Sure, the truth matters. They’re using this asinine story to get their way in court. You disprove it, you make them look worse. Hard to do, all things considered. But it might be interesting to embarrass them in court.”

He hadn’t thought of that angle—that might be enough of a reason to look into it. “What about Elizabeth?” he asked. “She says it doesn’t—” He paused. “No. She said it shouldn’t matter.” Which meant that it did. She wanted to know the truth. Why? “I think sometimes I made a mistake coming to work here,” he said, saying the words before he’d even considered them.

Sonny set the tumbler down, his dark eyes curious. “Because you hate the job? Or everything that happened because of it? Because maybe if you leave town, the Quartermaines keep moving forward. They strip Elizabeth of everything she cared about. Her home. Her marriage. Hell, her name. They weren’t going to let her keep that, even though it’s on her daughter’s headstone.” Sonny leaned back, lifted his brows. “But you know, Alan and Edward probably don’t care so much about you then. You could have left. Gotten a job. Started over for real.”

And never known about Elizabeth. Or Cady. That sat wrong with him. He didn’t want to be told things about his life before — that still didn’t sit well with him, but it was getting easier. Maybe because Jason had more to call his own, and everything in his head wasn’t knowledge planted by someone else.

And maybe it’d  be okay if he’d never known about Elizabeth. Maybe.

But to never know about a child that belonged to him? One that he’d loved and mourned—that didn’t feel right.

“Or maybe you think coming to work here and getting to know Elizabeth is a mistake.” Sonny waited for Jason to look at him. “You having second thoughts about going forward with that?”

“No. Maybe. I don’t know.” Jason hesitated. “Most of the time, no.”

“Well, then, that’s a good answer. If you’re only thinking it’s a mistake when your lawyer is around reminding you of the awful family you’re from, then that’s fine. Eventually, you’ll be done with the Quartermaines. And you and Elizabeth will either figure things out or move on. Luke thinks it was all a mistake, by the way,” Sonny said, and Jason frowned. “He’s protective of her, you know that. He thinks you’re going to break Elizabeth’s heart again.”

“I—” Jason furrowed his brow. “What do you think?”

“I think,” Sonny said carefully, “that Elizabeth’s an adult, and so are you. And no one gets out of this life without a few scars. There’s a reason you found each other again. And if you’re thinking it’s wrapped up in the fact you were her husband and she loved you before, that only explains her choices. What about yours? You could have gone after any woman. You picked her. Doesn’t that matter?”

And he’d had a chance to walk away from her, Jason remembered. She’d asked him to leave her alone, to stay away. And he hadn’t done it. He’d pushed his way back in. Sonny was right. There was a reason for that.

“You’re right. Thanks.”

“Just be honest with her, that’s all I ask. And be honest with yourself. That’s all you owe anyone.” Sonny slid the tumbler across the bar. “Now. Pour me another one and why don’t you and I discuss some ideas for making the Quartermaines miserable for what they’ve been putting you through.”

—

Elizabeth slid the schedule across the bar to Luke. “Here’s next week. Lemme know if you have any problems with it—” She walked away from him to take the order from a regular at the end of the bar, got busy with a few others.

By the time she came back to Luke, Jason had joined him, filling a tray of beer orders for one of the floor waitresses.

“Schedule looks good, but, uh, I see you put both of you on there for April 15.” Luke lifted his brows. “You planning to work on your anniversary?”

Jason frowned. “What?”

“April 15,” Elizabeth said, shooting Luke an irritated look. “That’s, um, one year. Since…that’s the day—”

“Your wedding anniversary,” Luke finished, lighting his cigar, then puffing a few times to get it started. “You not doing a date night?”

“It’s not—” She pursed her lips. “It’s in the middle of the week for one thing, and for another—” She glanced at Jason who was just looking at her. “I don’t know. It doesn’t really feel like an anniversary. Besides, I put us on for the closing shift—”

“Yeah, well, I’m taking you off.” Luke reached for a marker they kept behind the bar, drew lines through their names. “How’s it gonna look in court if you don’t do something on your anniversary?”

Elizabeth wrinkled her nose. “I don’t really want to do anything just for the court, Luke. It’s stupid. And I had a reason for the closing shift…” She looked at Jason. “I was  going to talk to you after work. Um, I was thinking maybe we could…” Her voice trembled just a bit, but she was able to finish her sentence. “I was thinking that it was time to clean out the second bedroom.”

Luke lowered the cigar to the ashtray on the bar, his blue eyes suddenly sober. “You don’t have to do a damn thing you don’t want to.”

“We don’t have to—” Jason said at the same time, and the two men traded looks, and she knew Jason was thinking of the day he’d come to the apartment a month earlier and she hadn’t even been able to look inside.

“I know. I just…I think it’s time. To try,” Elizabeth added. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to do it. But I…haven’t gone in her room since…” The last time Cady had woke from her nap. Elizabeth had changed her daughter, tucked her in a car seat, and left. “It’s been five months—”

“I don’t care if it takes five years—”

Elizabeth covered Luke’s hand. “I’m ready. And Jason asked a few weeks ago to see more of her pictures. If you still want to—” she said, looking back to him. “Maybe you don’t.”

“I do,” Jason said, “but I told you that I didn’t want to put you though that.”

“I think it’s time. There’s…there’s things we could donate, you know? And maybe some things I’d like to pack away. And her pictures. Maybe I could put them back in the rest of the apartment.” Maybe. Elizabeth smiled, though it felt forced. “So I thought, well, that day is as good as any other.”

“Yeah, all right. But you take the whole day, honey. You might need it.”

“Yeah, okay.” She disappeared down the other end of the bar, leaving Luke to watch over her pensively.

“You keep an eye on her,” Luke told Jason. “I don’t know if she said anything about all of that, but when she says she hasn’t gone in the room—”

“She never even looks at the door,” Jason finished quietly. “I know. There’s not a trace of Cady in the rest of the apartment. It’s all in there. I’ll be there. But if she thinks she’s ready, I’m not going to tell her differently.”

“Yeah, all right. Maybe she is. But I don’t know how you ever get ready for a damn thing like that.” Luke rubbed the side of his face, reached for his cigar. “Sometimes I blame you,” he murmured, and Jason jerked his head to look at the bar owner. “You don’t call that night, she doesn’t leave that minute. She’s five minutes later, and that car never hits her. And maybe it all goes differently. Sometimes I blame you,” Luke repeated. “Because I need somewhere to put it, you know.”

“Yeah, I know, but—”

“It’s the kind of thing that makes you stop believing in a higher power,” Luke muttered, sliding off the stool. “What kind of God does that to a family? Any of this?”

And Jason didn’t have answer for that.

+31