Chapter Ninteen: Loyalties
the Morgan PH
"Don't."
Luke looked up guiltily and slid the cigar back in his pocket. He scowled in Jason's direction. "I wasn't gonna light it," he protested. Luke paused, and he looked at his niece's husband. "How is she?" he asked, quietly.
Jason sighed, long and deep. He sank down on the couch, his body, his eyes, his whole persona uncharacteristically bewildered. Mostly, Jason Morgan just looked tired. "She's sleeping," he said, not lifting his head from his hands. "Finally."
"Good," Luke said, sliding his feet off the coffee table and to the floor with a bang. "Last thing we need on top of all this is for Caroline to go into labor." He paused, then burst out abruptly. "Damnit! How the hell did this happen?" Luke asked, savagely.
The younger man looked up, finally. "Does it matter?" he asked wearily.
Luke's eyes narrowed suddenly, as he stared at Jason. "Wait a minute," he said slowly, his voice dangerously sharp. "Did you know about this, boy?" he demanded.
Jason didn't blink; he just returned Luke's stare, expressionlessly.
Luke's expression, by contrast, bloomed darkly across his face. "What the hell," he caught himself, and lowered his voice, it's intensity not decreasing one iota despite the dip in his volume, "what the hell did you think you were doing, Morgan?"
"You may have made your peace with Carly, and I'm glad for that, Luke. For my wife's sake. But that doesn't mean you get to judge the way I live my life," Jason shot back, his eyes flashing cold blue fire. "You don't have the right to tell me a damn thing about hiding something to protect a woman you love, Luke!" Jason added, with a significant glance at the photo of Bobbie Carly kept on their mantel.
"The right?" Luke glared at Jason incredulously. "You really want me to name it, boy? The girl in there," he pointed at the back bedroom, "is my flesh and blood and so's that baby she's carryin'. Which is more than I can say for y--" Luke stopped himself, but it had gone light-years past too late mere seconds ago.
Jason stared. No blinking, no breathing. "You know," he said finally, his voice soft and almost -- old. He nodded, once. "Did Carly tell you?"
"Yeah," Luke said, slowly, his town much more moderate. "She did. Caroline didn't think you knew?" Luke's words were more question than statement.
"I knew before she did," the younger man said, bluntly, almost challengingly, daring Luke to make an issue of it. "This is not your business, Luke. None of it."
"Don't push me, boy," Luke's voice was silky-soft and all the more menacing for it. "You've seen Caroline fight when it comes to her family? Where the hell you think she gets it from? She's a Spencer; it's bred in her blood and her bones, and you think she protects her own," he leaned forward, "you ain't seen nothing, kid." Luke stood up, snatching his jacket off the table. He stormed to the door, pausing to wheel on his heel and face Jason once more. "One more thing about the Spencer women, Jason. You can lie to 'em once, and they may get past it 'cause their hearts -- their hearts are the biggest thing about 'em. But, make the mistake of doin' it a second time," Luke shook his head once, warningly, "and my baby niece'll rip you out of her life so fast you won't know what's up and what's down. Believe me," his eyes seemed to look somewhere dark in the past, "I know." After a moment his focus returned to Jason, and he held the younger man's gaze a moment longer before raging out the door, just barely stopping it from slamming behind him.
Jason stared expressionlessly at the empty room for a long moment before rising slowly, moving like a much older man, towards the room where his wife slept, one thought echoing through his mind. What the hell had he done??
V's apartment
"So, then, I left." V gave a small, practical shrug, meeting her friend's eyes. "Alexis, I've done this. You know that better than anyone. It's not the guy trying to forget the woman who's chosen something else who gets hurt."
Alexis sighed and stretched out her legs in stocking feet. "Scotty's an idiot," she said, bluntly. She shook her head once, decisively. "'Scotty Gonzales' was his nickname in law school, because he had the attention span of a gnat. I've seen him be utterly insensitive, he cuts corners a hell of a lot more than he should, and if you looked up the stereotype of the classic rich spoiled man-child, all bets are you'd probably find a picture of Scott Baldwin. But," she twisted her coffee mug between her palms, "he called me out of the blue after years and years, and asked for my help, I came." She let out a helpless laugh. "What can I say? He grows on you. And, beyond all that other stuff, he's got a good heart, V. Even if he has no idea how to treat a woman."
"I know he's a good guy, Alexis. I've seen him with his children." V sighed. "But, he's not -- I don't know if he can be the man I need him to be. I've been hopelessly in love with a man who didn't love me back, I've had a light-hearted, shallow fling. I'm ready for a real, grown-up love. And, the last thing Scott is is a grown-up."
Alexis studied her best friend silently for a long moment. "Pity," she said, with real sadness in her voice. "Because if there's any woman out there who could finally make Scott Baldwin grow up, my bet is she's you." She lifted her hands in supplication at V's slightly mutinous scowl. "Okay, okay. Dropping it." She leaned forward, hesitated, then plunged ahead. "Shall I distract you?" Alexis asked.
"Distract away," V leaned back, tucking her feet underneath her. "I'm tired of whining. I don't do it so well."
Alexis reached over and squeezed her friend's hand. "Which is why I love you so much," she said, softly. She took a breath, paused, and shook her head. "No, there's no way to sugarcoat this. It's too -- bizarre." She looked at V whose eyebrows had almost reached her hairline at this point, and just spoke. "Jerry Jacks is in town. And, he is, apparently, Carly Morgan's father."
V stared at her friend, then looked down at her feet. "Er," she said eloquently. "Um."
"V?" Alexis questioned sharply. She reached out, grasping her friend's chin in her hand. "Venus Athena Ardanowski! You knew about this! How? When? And why didn't you tell me??"
"Hey," V held her hands out, mildly. She began, "I just found out, honestly. A couple days ago, in the park. Jerry seemed really odd when I ran into him at the hospital so I called Jax, and he came home and we, well, basically we confronted him, or Jax did. I was really just there--"
Alexis interrupted V with a sharp question. "Jax is home?" She shook her head, wonderingly. "Where have I been?"
"Otherwise occupied," V offered, discreetly.
"Hmm," Alexis responded, noncommittally. However, her slight flush and the small secret smile that flitted across her lips were all the confirmation needed. "What about Jax?" Alexis asked hastily. "How is my ex-husband dealing with the brand-new family addition?"
V's face flashed worry as she set her coffee mug down with an exasperated bang. "I don't know. He won't answer his phone, and I've been calling him every four darn hours! He was pretty mad at Jerry last time I saw him."
"He'll have to join the party," Alexis mused. She looked over at V. "Luke got a frantic call from Carly last night; as soon as he's done holding her hand, my guess is the next item on his agenda is to find wherever Jerry is hiding out and -- well, that's about where I stop guessing."
Brrrring! Their conversation was interrupted by the phone, and Alexis reached for it before V could. "No, let me. If it's Jax, I have a bone or two to pick with him." She picked the phone up off the receiver, briskly. "Hello, who is this, please?" she asked, in her most officious tone.
There was a long silence on the other end. "Who's this?" shot back a male voice, with a tinge of irritation.
Alexis's brow furrowed slightly. "This is Ms. Ardanowski's attorney; I'd advise you to answer the question posed to you a few moments ago."
There was another pause, then the man on the other end broke into gruff laughter. "Davis," Scott Baldwin chuckled, "don't give up your day job. Lemmee talk to my kid's nanny."
Alexis sat up hard; her jaw dropped. She closed it quickly and narrowed her eyes, glaring as if the man were right in front of her.
V sighed, and leaned back into the couch. Whoever was on the phone, she wasn't going to get to talk to them anytime soon; she picked up a magazine and started leafing through it, as Alexis began. She had a feeling this was going to be a while.
"You know what, Baldwin," Alexis bit out his name, "there are so many things wrong with that statement, I don't even know where to begin..."
V looked up, startled, as Alexis said Scott's name, and then, after a moment, settled back down again. It looked like a while was right. And, truth be told, she kind of enjoyed hearing Alexis kick Scotty's butt.
Lucy's hotel suite
Luke stopped his rhythmic banging on the door as it snapped open, and he came face to face with a very angry Lucy Coe tightening the belt on her robe. He smiled, a long, slow, dangerous grin. "Hey there, Lucy-Luce," Luke drawled. "Been keepin' secrets?"
"Luke!" Lucy's expression quickly ran the gamut from irritated to curious to anxious. Her hands flew up to smooth her hair as she tried on the most innocent smile in her repertoire. "I wasn't expecting you; what are you doing here?"
"Just playing my very best pal a little visit," his hand reached above her to stop the door from closing another inch. "Aren't you gonna invite me in, babydoll?"
"You know what, pal? I've really just this very minute waken up, and the room is a horrendously horrendous mess." She let out a small, tinkling laugh. "You know me, Luke, always making messes."
"And, you know me, babe," Luke forcibly and easily removed her from her one-woman blockade of the doorway and stepped into the neat, orderly room, "I like gettin' in the middle of 'em. Though it looks like I won't get the chance today," Luke turned to Lucy, his head cocked slightly to the side.
Just then, the bedroom door slammed behind the two of them and, in unison, Luke and Lucy whirled around. As they both caught sight of Jerry Jacks, wearing little more than a worn t-shirt and in contrast, very expensive black silk boxer shorts, Lucy let out a small noise that could have been a moan. Luke, though, Luke just stared.
Jerry took in the scene and walked, almost jauntily, to Lucy's side. He bent down pressing a discreet, but possessive kiss on her cheek as his arm slid around her waist. "Morning luv," he smiled breezily, barely indicating Luke with a twist of his hand, "you didn't tell me we were having company. I would've spruced up a little."
"I didn't know," Lucy murmured, her eyes never leaving Luke's. "My good buddy here just decided to drop by."
It began as a low rumble in his chest and finally erupted into a roar. "You think I give a damn about what you're WEARING??" Luke erupted. His eyes narrowed to pinpoints of laser-blue fire, and then, he lunged, going straight for the other man's throat.
Lucy was ready, had been ready since he'd walked in the door. Years and experience and more than a little bit of a psychic connection made her as close to an expert in reading Luke's body language as anyone was going to get. Quick as lightning, she stepped in front of Jerry, pushing with all her strength against Luke's chest as he moved forward. "Stop it, Luke!" she demanded, hands astride her hips. "Big bully!" She glared. "You want to actually sit down and talk with your FAMILY, then stay. But, if you want to play Mr. Macho Caveman then, pal, you're gonna have to make a playdate somewhere else." She elbowed Jerry in the ribs, not discreetly at all. "Right?"
Jerry was silent a long moment, his eyes locked on Luke's as Lucy held her breath. Finally he lifted both his hands in the air, making a small placating gesture, and smiled as falsely as he possibly could. "You heard the lady." He strolled over to the love seat and sat down casually, never breaking eye contact with the other man. "You want to talk, have a seat. But, I'm not gonna fight you, Spencer, in Lucy's home."
"Since when are you so damn considerate about Lucy?" Luke growled.
"Since none of your business, mate," Jerry retorted, evenly. "You wanna talk about my daughter," he indicated the couch. "But, Lucy is off-limits."
"Your daughter?" Luke looked at the other man incredulously, no where near sitting down on the couch like he was about to drink a cup of tea with the arrogant, son of a bitch Aussie. "You mean my pregnant niece who called me hysterical last night?" He shook his head, scornfully. "She's no daughter of yours, Jacks."
Jerry stood up, his face very close to Luke's. "You can call me names. You can threaten me. You can even swing at me a time or two; I can take it. But, come between me and my daughter," Jerry took another step towards Luke, his face very sober, "and I will bloody bury you."
Luke returned his gaze for a long moment, then threw back his head and started to laugh. He lifted his hands and took a step back. "You think I'm gonna come between you and Sweet Caroline? You so much as breathe in her direction, and Carly's gonna come at you fightin'." He linked his hands behind his head, laughter softening the knife edge of his smile, but not reaching his eyes. "The girl's a Spencer; she knows how to carry a grudge for more years than you can count, Wonder Boy."
"She's a Jacks," Jerry's voice was smooth, calm, but if you knew how to listen, there was a clear sharp edge of tension underneath it. "She's got a temper, but she's also got a brain. Give her time and my daughter and I'll be just fine." His last words were hissed in Luke's face as if Jerry himself was not entirely sure of their accuracy.
"A Spencer-Jacks," Lucy said brightly, stepping forward finally from her spot on the carpet. She linked her arms with both Jerry and Luke, forcing them to separate. "That's a fantabulous, wonderful, exciting combination," she looked back and forth between the two faces, sensing a distinct lack of excitement. She dropped their arms, and her face began to grow mutinous. Her arms rose to fold across her chest, and Lucy managed to elbow both men with the motion. Hard. "Okay, you big babies, I'm starting to get irritable which means, until I get better, everyone is irritable. So, Lucy is going to make it better." She pushed Luke back onto the couch and tugged Jerry back down in the love seat, while she stood standing over the both of them.
"Here is how it is. Number one," Lucy ticked the item of on her fingers, "Carly is not a DOLL that you get to argue about. She's a living, breathing, hurting person who needs the two of you being -- the way your being only SLIGHTLY more than she needs a hole in the head. Number two," second item, second tick, "eventually, even if it doesn't seem like it right this very second, she's going to need both of you. So figure out a way to play together or stay the hell out of the way," she glared fiercely. "And, number three, you better both shape up and stop acting younger than my baby daughter, then I will never, ever, as long as I live speak to either of you again!"
Luke looked up at her, then turned to Jerry. "Go ahead, Jacks, say somethin' to rile her up some more. Can't think of anything better for my Luce than her not speakin' to you again."
Before Jerry could respond, Lucy snapped out, in a soft but deadly tone, "Don't do it, Luke. Don't make me choose."
Luke's gaze slid back to his ex-partner-in-crime, and he saw it, finally, in her gaze. In the way Jerry's body, ever so slightly, leaned into hers. He had figured they were sleeping together; he hadn't figured -- this. That sometime, he didn't know when, he didn't want to know, Lucy and Jerry had become a unit. A twosome. More than a couple. He knew that look, had seen it in the mirror when he met Alexis' eyes in the morning while he was shaving, and she was brushing her teeth. Luke let out an almost wistful sigh, and stood up. "C'mon, babydoll, calm down," he said, grinning what was unmistakably a patented Luke Spencer grin. "You know I never could resist you when you bat those beautiful browns at me." He chucked her lightly on the chin. "I'll play nice with your little boy-toy, if Caroline wants him around." Luke didn't bother to look at or acknowledge Jerry; he walked to the door. "Hey, Luce," he called over his shoulder, "anyone ever tell you you got the worst taste in men?"
Jerry reached up in unison with the door slamming behind Spencer, and grabbed Lucy's arm, pulling her down in his lap. Her buried his head in her hair, gripping her tightly against him, so tightly she could feel his heart beating. "You are amazing, Lucy Coe. Absolutely amazing," Jerry whispered, his heart beating out each syllable.
Lucy smiled, wrapping her own arms tightly about his neck, and letting out a sharp, shuddering breath. "I know," she said, breezily, tossing her hair back with a small laugh. "Just don't you ever forget it."
"Don't worry," Jerry whispered, the second before his lips found hers. "I won't."
Sonny's PH
It had become somewhat of a pattern. He'd always had a bent towards insomnia, and lately, sleeping through the night hadn't been an option. Too many thoughts, too many possibilities. So, he'd started going to the warehouse at night. It was quiet; it was empty. And, it was his. Unlike -- everything he'd lost, he still had his damn coffee beans. Small consolation, but at least it was one.
No matter how he got through the night, though, morning came eventually. He sighed, running his fingers through his already less than immaculate hair; this was the part he liked least. Coming home to his beautiful, empty, stale penthouse. Sonny studied the door to penthouse number four with a moue of distaste on his face. With a shrug, he reached for the knob; much as he might like to, he couldn't stand in the hallway all day.
Sonny came to a complete standstill the moment he crossed the threshold, and his eyes narrowed to slits. "What the hell are you doing here?" he demanded harshly of the man standing in the middle of his living room.
Jasper Jacks turned around slowly, his hands lazily resting in his pockets. He grinned, toothily and nonchalantly. "Waiting," was his one word answer.
"In the middle of my house?" Sonny snapped incredulously. "Who let you in?" He looked around sharply. "And where the hell is Johnny?"
"Your hired muscle is upstairs," Jax announced, deliberately casually. "With my wife."
"Your what?" Sonny stared at the other man, wondering for just a moment if somehow he'd slipped either back in time or into some parallel universe. "I don't know what's goin' on here, Candyboy, but if I don't get a damn explanation that makes sense soon--"
"Sonny." With that honeyed drawl, everything suddenly clicked into place. Sonny whirled around to see Blair descending the stairs, Johnny following her, his arms full of boxes. She continued down the staircase, her eyes locked on Sonny's. "I told you I'd be pickin' up the rest of my stuff when I could," she said, half-challengingly, half in explanation.
Sonny closed his eyes briefly, then opened them again. His gaze flickered to Blair's left hand, and he shook his head. "Tell me you didn't, Blair. Tell me you didn't marry -- him," he didn't even bother to glance in Jax's direction, just made a dismissive gesture in his direction.
"Should I just pretend that that's your way of saying 'Congratulations Blair'?" Blair asked, moving to Jax's side, slipping her arm around her brand-new husband's waist.
Jax slid his own arm possessively around Blair. "I may have forgotten to mention, darling, Corinthos and I have something of a -- history."
"Yeah, a history of Candyboy here trampling over anything and any one just to win." Sonny looked at Blair. "C'mon, Blair, you're better than this! Don't let him use you just to get to me. You deserve more than that."
Jax laughed derisively, but it was Blair who spoke. "I know exactly what I'm worth, Sonny, believe me. You're the one who kept gettin' that one wrong." She tossed her hair back behind her shoulder, her eyes flashing. "I know exactly what this marriage is all about, and you know what, Sonny? It doesn't have a damn thing to do with you, much as your ego's gonna hate to hear it."
"You're not gonna try and tell me you're in love with the Australian lightweight, are you, Blair?" he asked, scornfully. "Because, sweetheart," his voice lowered, deliberately intimately, "I know better."
"I'm not gonna try and tell you anything," Blair retorted, not missing the way Jax's arm tightened about her waist at Sonny's change in tone. "My life is no longer your business, remember Sonny? Your call." After a moment, she sighed, relenting slightly. Before it went bad, this man had been more than good to her. "Sonny, I really did just come here to get my stuff. I called from the plane; no one answered. I didn't think you'd be here."
"Blair--" Sonny broke off. "You didn't have to do this," he said, softly.
She half-smiled. "Go on with my life? Yeah, Sonny, I did have to. You know, meeting you, being with you was the first step towards getting my life back. And, when I met Jax," she flashed a smile at the golden man beside her who'd, on the strength of a grin and an amazingly hot afternoon, pulled her entire life story out of her and on the high of incredible sex and a common desire for power and love, flown her to Vegas and married her, "I was able to see what I wanted and reach out and take it. In a way, you're to thank for my marriage."
"Wait a minute, honey," Jax spoke up. "That's going a little far."
"Yeah, you know, for once Jasper and I are in agreement." Sonny jerked his chin towards Jax. "I don't want any blame for this."
"I was giving you credit, not blame, but whatever." She tugged at Jax's arm. "C'mon, Mr. Jacks," Blair grinned, "time to go home."
"Yes ma'am, Mrs. Jacks," Jax grinned, then leaned down pressing a quick but passionate kiss against her lips. Arm in arm, they started to walk to the door.
"Blair," Sonny called once. She turned around. "Just -- be happy, okay?"
"Oh, I will," Blair met his eyes. "Believe me, I will."
He stood in the middle of the penthouse after they left, waiting for it to hit him, the wave of despair, the blackness, the emptiness. After all, once again, he had been left alone; breaking down was his MO. Strangest thing -- the only thing he felt as Blair walked out of the penthouse on Jasper Jacks' arm was free.
Morgan PH
He wasn't sure how long he had been sitting there. It was a -- thing that had happened since he could remember, or since the accident depending on your point of view. Losing time, Dr. Jones had called it once. Jason didn't call it anything; it just was. When he was focusing intently on something, when his whole being was wrapped up in a problem, there were times when he'd blink and hours had gone by. He wasn't asleep; he was just -- away. It had happened again as he sat here in his living room trying to solve the problem that was his wife.
Jason stood up, arching his back; though he would never see it, or waste his time caring, his similarity to a large jungle cat was never more evident than in that moment. He turned his head towards their room, calling her name once, quietly. "Carly?" When she didn't answer, he padded softly to the door of their bedroom, expecting to find her fast asleep.
Instead, he found a made bed, an empty bedroom, and a half-open duffel bag. All senses became alert as his eyes darted towards the darkened master bath. Closet light was off. French doors closed and latched. "Carly?" Jason called out, this time not-so-quietly. "Baby?" He strode into the room, flipping on the light switch with a sharp flip of his wrist.
"Turn it off," came the soft command from his left. Jason wheeled around on his heel, and there she was, his wife. Curled up in a surprisingly small ball on the armchair facing the fireplace. "It hurts my eyes."
One more quick motion, the opposite direction, and the light was off. He crouched by her chair, resting his chin on the arm. "What's going on, Carly?"
The face she lifted to him was sad, but free of tear-stains. Just -- sad. And completely resolute. "Jason. I can't do this anymore," Carly spoke slowly, framing each word clearly.
He shook his head once. There had been a time when he could read her without words, know what she was thinking almost before she even thought it. It had been part of, actually, what made the sex so good, back in the beginning. He knew what she wanted. And, she knew what he wanted. And they gave it to each other; that was enough. It had stopped being enough a long time ago. Or maybe they had stopped knowing how to give each other what it was they needed. Jason, at least, had stopped even knowing what she wanted anymore. "Can't do what, Carly? Stay in bed?" He reached up, caressing her cheek lightly. "Baby, you know you have to."
"No," Carly's voice was quiet; she didn't move her face away from his hand, but neither was it welcome. "I mean I can't do this," her hand made a gesture indicating the two of them, "anymore. I can't be the woman that you think I am."
Jason stared at her a long moment. "I know who you are."
"You know who I was. And, you know who -- I thought I wanted to be for you." Her words were chosen carefully; sleep had not come this past night. Just thoughts. "But, I don't think you have any idea who I am." Carly let out a small laugh. "God, Jase, the whole history of us is you saving me from myself. Why should you know who I am when I don't need you to save me anymore?"
"I'm not trying to save you--"
"Don't give me that!" The first hint of real anger, sharp and burning, entered her voice. "I heard you, Jase. You and Luke. You knew Jerry was my father for God knows how long, and didn't bother to tell me." Carly pushed at the arm of the chair, succeeding only in moving to the other side of the large armchair, not dislodging Jason's head at all. "And, I know why. I get it. I made you this way. It's my fault, as much as anyone's." She ran both her hands over her face, letting her fingers trail slowly down her cheeks, her eyes trained past his head. "Moment we met, Jason, I needed you to rescue me. And, then, I showed up at your door in the rain..." Carly trailed off, and turned to face him slowly. "We all make our own patterns, and that was ours. Instead of figuring out a way to clean up my own messes, I got you to pick up the broom and dustpan. Sometimes I think -- sometimes I think the worst thing that ever happened to me was meeting you that night at Jake's."
Jason stood up, moving across the room like a blind man. He sank down at the edge of the bed they shared, lifting his head to look at his wife. Carly sucked in a sharp breath at the pain looking back at her out of his eyes. "So when you said you couldn't do this anymore, you meant -- us?" he asked, every word a different color of pain.
Carly hesitated, and for a moment, the world stopped turning waiting for her to move. Then, she nodded. Slowly, she pushed herself up, and moved carefully to his side. The part of her that needed to comfort him was always gonna be stronger than the part of her that needed to hurt him. Which, maybe, was how it should be. "And, the rest of the time," she continued, as if his question had never been asked and answered, "I know that meeting you was the best thing that ever happened to me. You saved me, Jason. Literally, figuratively -- all other ways in between. And, I love you." She reached out to stroke his face and back tentatively, aware of how unfair it was, but unable to help herself. "I just can't live with you."
He reached out, fingering the strap of the unzipped duffel bag sitting behind the two of them. "This is for me." It was not a question.
"It should probably be me who leaves. I'm the one ending this, and it's your house." Carly shrugged and lay a hand on her rounded stomach. "But, circumstances...." She was still a moment. "It's selfish as hell but I need you to be the one who leaves," she added quietly.
"I don't--" Jason's eyes were wild as his hands clenched reflexively. "I don't know how to do that, Carly."
"Bullshit." Her words were without rancor but clear. She removed her hands from his body. "Leaving is one of the things you do best, Jase." Carly lifted her hand to her eyes; she was so tired. "I don't wanna fight with you."
"That's new," his tone was unusually bitter. "'Cause fighting is one of the things you do best. Damnit, Carly!" Jason made a sudden violent movement, and the duffel bag flew across the room. He held himself still. "I love you," the tortured whisper filled the room.
She tilted her face upwards, her hair falling behind her shoulders. Carly closed her eyes, but that didn't stop the tears from sliding slowly down her cheeks. "There was a time when I would have done anything to hear you say that to me." Her voice was thick. "I love you, too. Always." She looked at him; his eyes, too, were wet. "Jason," she whispered. "Please."
Jason didn't answer, just rose, walking slowly to the bag he had thrown a moment before. He replaced the spilled contents and zipped it closed, then walked back to Carly, crouching at her feet. He lay one hand against her stomach, lifting his eyes to her face. Stared at her a long moment, then rose, slinging the duffel on his shoulder.
She caught at his arm. "Jason." Carly grabbed something from the side table and pressed it into his hand.
He looked down at the crumpled bills cupped in his palm then at his wife, puzzlement warring with everything else in his eyes.
Carly smiled through the tears. "Cab fare," she murmured. His brow cleared, and his hand closed tightly over the money, a tear sliding down one cheek. "So you can find your way safely home."
