Pacey stepped out into the bright sunlight, tugging his sunglasses down. He leaned against the warm glass and took a deep breath, closing his eyes.
“You okay?”
He opened them slowly and looked to his left, shaking his head in exasperation. “Jesus Christ. Are you guys tag-teaming me now?”
Joey shrugged and smiled. “It’s probably as close as you’ll ever get to a threesome.”
“Dating you was a threesome.” He turned away from her and started walking.
“Ah,” Joey started after him, nodding as she did so. “Avoiding issues by referring to our long ago past. Yet again you’re exhibiting classic Pacey Witter behavior.”
“Classic Pacey,” he snapped. “Brought back since New Pacey didn’t go over all too well with the masses.”
“Well, it’s nice to see those defense mechanisms haven’t rusted over time.” She sped up her pace in an effort to catch up with him. “I thought we got past all this last night.”
“That was before I realized I was being babysat.” He stopped and faced her. “I don’t need someone looking after me, Potter. I’m a big boy now. I can do lots of things all by myself.”
“We’re just worried.”
“Right. You and Dawson. Got it.”
“Not just me and Dawson, Pacey. Jesus, would you just move on from that?”
“I have moved on, Jo. I got married, moved away. All sorts of good stuff. What have you done?”
“You’re a real prick. Funny how I always forget that when I haven’t seen you in a while.”
“Yeah, well, absence makes the heart grow fonder.” Taking off his sunglasses, he glared at her. “And I’d really like to be fonder of you right now.”
“What the fuck is wrong with you today?” She shook her head as she spoke, her anger flashing in her eyes.
Pacey stepped up to her, closing the small distance between them. “I had to arrange to bury my wife, Jo. I can’t imagine why I wouldn’t be all chipper.” He held her gaze, his eyes still vacant, despite the angry edge to his words. “Now, why don’t you be a good little girl and run off to give your report to Dawson.”
Joey took a deep breath and just stood there, refusing to look away. “I’m sorry.” Pacey turned and started walking and she reached out to grab his arm. He shook her off and kept moving. Jogging, she got ahead of him and put both hands against his chest, keeping him in place. “Please?”
He stopped, his mouth set. “What?”
“Can’t we start this whole thing over? Pretend that we just happened to run into each other, purely by chance, and just…”
“No, Jo. I don’t feel much like pretending anymore.” He brushed her hands away and started walking once more.
“What did you get Kara for her birthday?”
Pacey stopped and shook his head, anger etched in every muscle. “Are you still fucking the accountant?”
“Don’t do this.”
“Do what, Jo? I’m just taking an interest in your life. Trying to have a normal conversation. Because, you know, we’re pretending.”
“You are pretending, Pacey. Pretending nothing’s wrong. Pretending that you’re not hurting. Pretending…”
“Pretending I give a shit about your psychoanalyzation of me.” He smiled, his expression hard. “Which I think I’m doing a fine job of, don’t you?”
“Fine.” Joey threw up her hands. “You want to go around like a zombie, mad at the world? You do that. But you know what, Pacey?” She moved toward him, her voice low and conspiratorial. “You’re not mad at the world. You’re mad at Andie because she’d dead. And you’re mad at yourself.”
“Oh really? And why, pray tell, is that?”
“Because you didn’t know you had to stop her.” She looked at him, holding his eyes with pure strength of will. “Or maybe because you’re afraid that you’re the reason she did it in the first place.”
Purple was not her color.
Jen stared at her reflection in the mirror, her fingers tentative as they brushed the darkening skin of her jaw. She turned slightly, one nail tracing the red marks from his fingers, still standing out in high relief.
The son of a bitch had hit her.
Even after kicking him out, it had taken a few minutes to settle in, taken some time to digest what had happened. Taken some time to be really, really pissed off.
“Mommy?”
Jen closed her eyes and swore under her breath. “Come on in, sweetie.” She turned away from the mirror, shifting on the vanity seat and facing the door. Hannah stepped into the room, her bare toes digging into the deep blue carpet. “What’s up?”
“I finished my breakfast. I thought I’d come up and see you.” She looked down at her feet, almost afraid to meet her mother’s eyes.
“Come here, pumpkin.” Hannah bit her lower lip and shook her head, her blonde hair whipping around her face. “Why not?”
“Daddy was mad when he left.”
“He wasn’t mad at you.”
“He was mad at you.” She looked up, her lower lip sucked into her mouth, her upper teeth just above her chin. “He told me that I should leave you alone.”
“Did he?”
“He said that you wanted to be alone. That’s why he was going.”
“Oh, pumpkin.” Jen shook her head and slid off the chair, sinking onto her knees in the carpet. “Please come here?”
She took a tentative step forward then stopped. “Are you mad at me, mommy? Daddy said you sent him away. Are you gonna send me away too?”
“No.” Her voice was soft and sad, the taint of anger barely noticeable. “I would never send you away. Mommy and Daddy just had a disagreement, and so he’s gone to visit Uncle Jack. He’s not going far away.”
“You…” Hannah moved into Jen’s lap, sinking down on the floor with her. She wrapped her chubby arms around her mother’s waist and clung to her, shivering a little. “You have an owie.”
Jen held herself still as Hannah’s fingers touched the forming bruise lightly then raised her own fingers to cover her daughters. “Yeah.”
“Does it hurt?”
“A little.”
Wide, innocent, green eyes looked up at her, full of sympathy and unconditional love. “I could kiss it. Would that help?”
Tears that she didn’t know she could still cry clouded Jen’s eyes as she nodded her head. “I think that would make everything all better.”
| Chapter Twelve |
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