September 3, 2016

I actually wrote this in about forty minutes, but I was afraid if I kept going, I wouldn’t be at a natural stopping point. Plus, if I am going to continue any of the Flash Fictions, I still want them to feel like self-contained narrative units.

Tonight’s is a continuation of Flash Fiction #3. On the Flash Fiction page, you can now find this series separated from the first two flash fictions — a series entitled A King’s Command. So enjoy Flash Fiction #4: Homecoming and I’ll see you on Thursday for Bittersweet!

This entry is part 2 of 5 in the Flash Fiction 60: A King's Command

Prompt: “We often confuse what we wish for with what is.” ― Neil Gaiman, MirrorMask


Elizabeth had forced herself to cast away the terrifying image that had flashed before her eyes—to ignore the vestige of pain that lingered in her chest for hours after the vision faded. This was her future, and her husband, that must be protected. He was kind and decent and deserved better than the betrayal that would lead to his death.

She convinced him that her behavior was nothing more than maidenly fears—and while she did not think he fully believed her, he seemed content to let it pass for now. They had a marriage to consummate and sheets to display in the morning to satisfy the king that had commanded their marriage.

She knew not why King James had chosen his boldest warrior without warning him of the curse, but perhaps he was still grateful that she had had the courage to tell him of the poisoned chalice he had nearly drunk a fortnight earlier. Perhaps the king did not consider the visions nearly as cursed as her own family, but she could not take that chance.

Jason had dismissed her fears and taken her to the large bed. There had been pain, aye—she had been warned of it. But there had also been joy and some small pleasure. She had somehow managed to please him—he had assured her so when she’d dared to ask. And he had slipped into sleep at her side.

She would find a way to prevent his death and bear him strong sons—and never allow this brave and kind warrior to regret following his king’s command.


Their journey to Castle Morgan took her deeper and further west than Elizabeth had ever before traveled.  The keep was a massive stone structure built into the side of cliffs overlooking the deep blue waters of Mull. The air was bitten with a chill as their caravan rode into the courtyard nearly three weeks after their wedding day.

“I will introduce you to my family,” Jason said as he lifted her from her horse, his hand remaining clasped in hers. “And Alice will show you to our chambers so that you may wash and rest.”

“All right,” Elizabeth said as he led her to a small group of people who did not look anxious to meet her. Jason had confided in her during their journey that much of his clan did not appreciate the command to wed an unknown Lowlander. He assured her that it would not be a problem, but she had her doubts.

“My sister, Emily,” he said as a sour brunette bowed her chin ever so slightly in greeting. “My cousin, Dillon.” He nodded at a taciturn blonde haired man who appeared nearly a decade younger than his elder cousin. “And my aunt Tracy.”

The stony-faced woman offered no greeting to her nephew’s bride, only directed her conversation towards him. “Well? Did the king give his reason?”

“’Tis of no import,” Jason said simply. “This is Elizabeth.” He placed a hand at the small of her back and met her eyes briefly before looking at his aunt. “And I am well satisfied with the king’s match.”

The girl—Emily—snorted, but when Jason offered her a warning glance, her features schooled themselves into passivity.

There would be no warm welcome here, Elizabeth could see this now. No family to fold her into their lives. Whatever role she would hold at Castle Morgan would have to be carved out on her own.

“I am grateful to be here,” she said finally. “And blessed that the king allowed it.” She waited a moment before continuing. “I hope that you will show me my new home—”

“I have many responsibilities,” Tracy cut in her, voice as icy as the wind that whipped around them. “Running this keep.” Laying down the gauntlet. Elizabeth may be wife to the laird, but Tracy would not relinquish her role easily.  “My son can show you—”

“Aunt,” Jason began, his tone no more pleased than his aunt’s, but Elizabeth reached for his hand and squeezed it. She knew he saw Tracy’s words as a slight, but Elizabeth could see the fear of being found unnecessary lurking behind the elder woman’s eyes. She did not know for how long Tracy had been chatelaine at the keep, but it was part of her identity.

“I think that sounds lovely,” Elizabeth said, flashing a hesitant smile and surprising Jason’s aunt. “I have never been to the Highlands before and I shall depend on all of you to help me through my first winter. ‘Tis slightly chillier than Cumberland.”

Emily opened her mouth, but Tracy spoke first. “Of course.” She pursed her lips. “Elizabeth.”

“Let us  go into the hall,” Jason said, moving past the trio—leading Elizabeth towards the large wooden doors. “’Tis many hours since we supped.”


“I must apologize for my family.”

His wife frowned at him as she sat by the fire in their chambers later that night. She had bathed before he retired for the night, and now her long hair was drying before the heat.

“I thought it went well at dinner,” Elizabeth offered. She drew her shawl more tightly around the thin night rail—she would near warmer clothing with the winter drawing closer. “I did not expect them to treat me as one of their own on my first day, husband.”

No, she would not expect such kind treatment—any consideration of her own comfort and needs had been met with her quiet puzzlement throughout their journey.

He had stopped often, knowing that while she could ride well, the pace was demanding more than her stamina could supply.  He had endeavored to camp near streams where she could wash and in clearings where they could comfortable put up a tent so she might enjoy privacy. His men had not been as pleased by the slow pace and extra work, but Elizabeth’s quiet and humble nature had won them over by the time the castle had been sighted this morning.

“My aunt has been mistress here since my mother’s death after Emily’s birth,” Jason said finally. “Her husband died in battle, and the clan elected to go with his younger brother as their laird as Dillon was young. She—”

“She cares very much for your clan and this castle. I can see that. I could not expect her to lay down her life’s work at the mere sight of me. She has no knowledge of my capabilities.” Her lovely mouth twisted as she looked into the flames. “Of which I have known. You may be satisfied with the king’s choice now, Jason, but I fear that you will regret it one day. I was not raised to be the wife of…” She sighed. “Anyone.”

This did not come as a surprise to him, but he could not see why. “Your father is a chieftain—daughters are for alliances. I can not imagine—”

“I cannot speak for my father’s wishes,” she said quickly, but he believed that even less than he had believed her sudden bout of maidenly fears on their wedding night. But Jason did not push her for more. Whatever secrets she protected were her own.

“There is no need for Dillon to show you the keep,” Jason said after a long moment. “I will do so—”

Elizabeth rose to her feet, her now dry hair tumbling over her shoulder. “You have responsibilities of your own, and I would like to know your family.” A shy smile tugged at her lips as he took her hand and drew her closer to him. “I dare not hope your family will be as my own, but I do hope they will…like me. Our children—” Her cheeks flushed. “They will love them.”

“Aye,” Jason agreed, though he intended to make sure his family gave Elizabeth a chance to earn their devotion. She may not have been his choice to take to wife—and there was may be a painful truth hidden in her heart—but she was kind, lovely—and seemed to determine to make their marriage a good one.  “You wish for children?”

“Aye,” she repeated as his lips brushed hers. “As many as God sees fit to give us.”

September 1, 2016

Hey 🙂 So I updated Bittersweet earlier today, but forgot to write the main post. It’s updated everywhere so enjoy 🙂  I also updated the basic Updates page (the one that lists the new additions without my inane chatter).

As usual, my dears, when things start to go my way, the world says, Whoa there. I went down the beach and promptly sliced my foot open because people are dicks and leave broken glass in the sand. Awesome. My foot hurts like hell, and I still have go to work and stand on it. I swear, this is the worst year for me and my health.

But I have the weekend off, save for a Labor Day BBQ on Sunday and the usual researching. I’m working on Bittersweet pretty steadily and it’s really starting to take shape — I’m finally getting to some of the scenes I’ve been writing in my head for almost a year.

Damaged is still on hiatus. I haven’t had the time to dedicate to it, but once Bittersweet is done, I’ll try and get Season Three done.  For those of you who like the BBC’s Sherlock, Damaged is kind of like that. New seasons when I’m available and the world cooperates 😛

This entry is part 4 of 35 in the Bittersweet

Though these wounds have seen no wars
Except for the scars I have ignored
And this endless crutch, well it’s never enough
It’s been the worst day since yesterday
Worst Day Since Yesterday, Flogging Molly


Wednesday, April 24, 2002

Quartermaine Estate: Family Room

“I don’t know why you insist on delaying the matter!” Edward thundered as AJ rubbed his eyes. “All the best family attorneys tell me that your chances of getting Michael are excellent—”

“At what cost?” AJ retorted, tired of having this damn argument. “His mother died less than two weeks ago. I’m thinking about what’s best for Michael. Putting him first—”

“What’s best for Michael is to be here, with his family,” Edward interrupted, wagging his finger in AJ’s direction.

“That’s never been best for anyone,” Ned murmured from his relatively silent vantage point at the breakfast table. AJ scowled at his cousin, though he conceded his point.

“I’m supposed to go to Bobbie when her daughter isn’t even declared legally dead yet—the second child she’s lost to a car accident, mind you—and tell her I want to take her grandson?” AJ demanded. “Let’s not forget Jason’s made it clear there’s not going to be any peaceful out of court settlement. He’s going to fight me every step of the way.”

“That degenerate doesn’t deserve—”

And some things would never change. “Just stop, Grandfather.” AJ held up his hand. “I’ve talked to Kevin Collins, and he agrees that giving Michael some time and space to deal with his mother’s death is for the best. He doesn’t know me.” When Edward just scoffed at that, AJ continued. “He doesn’t. His entire world is at the Brownstone, with Bobbie and Lucas. With Elizabeth—”

“Oh…” Ned raised his head and shook his head. “Oh, no, don’t—”

But it was too late. Edward, clever and quick, had changed gears.  “Elizabeth is going to be the key to getting him back,” he said, ignoring Ned. “She’ll plead your case with Jason, won’t she?”

That was AJ’s hope, but there was no way in hell he was going to harass her into doing it. Even if she didn’t complain to Jason, it would only put her back up about the whole thing. No, he just had to keep doing what he’d been doing for the last two months since his marriage to a friend of Elizabeth’s. Be sober. Be mature. Be an adult.

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “I do hope she’ll make a good character witness at a hearing, but that’s—” He saw the unholy gleam in his grandfather’s eyes. “Oh. Oh, no. Grandfather, the last thing we need to do is antagonize Elizabeth Webber.”

“Who said anything about antagonize?” Edward pressed a hand to his chest, blinking with an innocence that the bastard hadn’t possessed since childhood. “Did I? I simply suggested she might be useful. Didn’t she date Jason briefly?”

“I don’t know, and that’s not important.” If Jason caught AJ anywhere near Elizabeth during the next few weeks, he’d rearrange AJ’s face—his little brother had made that painfully clear. “I’m not going to ask her to plead my case, to take my side. She’s Courtney’s friend, but she’s also important to Michael. I’m not doing anything jeopardize that—”

“You need to start acting like that boy’s father—”

“I think Junior is doing an admirable job of it for once,” Ned said idly, as he folded his newspaper and rose to his feet.

Both men stopped and just stared at Ned as he continued. “While Grandfather might want to make a hasty decision, AJ is going to look much better in the eyes of a family court judge. Any custody suit is going to require Michael to speak with counselors and lawyers. It’s upsetting at any age—but when he’s lost his mother?” He shrugged. “Giving him space and time to deal is going to impress people. I’m sure Bobbie is already appreciative.”

Edward pursed his lips before considering his eldest grandson. “I hadn’t looked at it in quite that light, I suppose. Bobbie has always been good to this family. More than Elizabeth, I think she’d be an impressive ally.”

AJ didn’t give a damn about any of that, but he was grateful to his cousin for steering Edward away from the edge. For now. “I just want to do what’s right for my son,” AJ said quietly.  “This isn’t the time, Grandfather.”

“We’ll table this discussion for now,” Edward finally decided. “But not forever.”

And while the old man may not have intended that statement as a threat, AJ was certainly going to consider it that way. Edward had been put off, but he wouldn’t be denied for much longer. Time would only tell when, where, and how the old bastard would make his move.

Gia and Elizabeth’s Apartment:  Living Room

“Maybe I should go to school,” Courtney declared as she tossed aside one of Gia’s study cards and reached for the bottle to pour herself another glass of wine.

“Look, we’ve seduced her with our glamorous lifestyle,” Elizabeth snickered to her roommate as she sipped her own wine and flipped the page in her macroeconomics textbook.

“No, seriously.” Courtney squinted at Gia’s book on constitutional law. “I could be smarter. Or something.”

“How much wine has she had?” Gia asked. “Courtney—”

“If I were smarter,” Courtney said after a moment of trying to remember if this was her third or fourth glass before deciding it really wasn’t important. “If I were smarter,” she repeated, “maybe the Quartermaines would think I was good enough for AJ.”

“Oh.” Elizabeth bit her lip. “Courtney, you could be a Vassar girl and the Q’s would still look down on you.”

What was a Vassar girl? Damn it. “But I’m not…whatever that is. I’m a white trash kid from Atlantic City. My mother is a waitress, my dad—”

“They didn’t pick you,” Elizabeth continued. “You’re not their choice.” She hesitated. “Though I guess…”

“It matters.” Courtney stared at the dark red wine swirling in her glass. “They’re always telling him how to live his life. He had another argument today about Michael.”

“That has nothing to do with you,” Gia told her. “In fact, if AJ gets Michael, it’ll be because you’re awesome.”

Elizabeth wrinkled her nose, but Courtney ignored the brunette’s general discomfort at the topic of Michael’s custody. “What happens when he gets him?”

Gia tilted her head. “I don’t follow.”

“He’ll have his son. He won’t need me anymore.” Courtney sighed and put her head down the table. “He married me because I’m Sonny’s sister. He keeps me around because I’m nice. Because I’ll look good for his case.”

“Honey…” She heard her glass slide away. But no one continued or picked up on Elizabeth’s half-hearted defense.  Because they’d said it before her vows. Before she’d run away to marry the scion of the Quartermaine family. Everyone had said it.

And Courtney had ignored them all.

“Listen, whatever your reasons for getting married were,” Gia said after a moment, “what does that matter? You’re happy, right?”

Courtney lifted her head slightly. “That’s not you denying anything.”

“Well…” Elizabeth drawled. “It’s not like you can complain he wasn’t up front about how much he hates your brother and wants his son.” She tapped her pen against her notebook. “And besides, what leverage could marrying you really get AJ in the long run?  He was never going to really challenge Carly for custody. Sonny was out of Michael’s life—”

“True.” Courtney sighed. “You’re right. It doesn’t matter. I’m sorry. I just thought…” She bit her lip. “He fights with Edward all the time, Elizabeth. Like…even before Carly’s death. It’s always about Michael. I just…what happens when the dust settles, and Michael isn’t a factor?”

Elizabeth opened her mouth, but Gia snorted. “Ha. Like that’s going to happen. Tell her, Webber. Jason is going to fight this in court until they’re little old men with crooked backs. And even if AJ gets custody, Jason will just appeal. Relax, babe. Michael is always going to be a factor.”

“That’s not true,” Elizabeth shot back. “Jason isn’t going to drag Michael in and out of court. That’s not like him.”

“Oh, you mean, you’ve talked to Jason for longer than five minutes?” Gia batted her lashes. “That would be different.”

“Last Saturday—”

“You had him fix the books and spent five minutes telling him about Lucky so that he wouldn’t hear it from someone else.” Gia snorted. “Other than that?”

“Listen—”

“Denial,” Gia sang as she turned a page in her text.

“Gia,” Courtney said with a blink because they’d changed topics and she wasn’t sure how that had happened. Or why her head was buzzing. “So what if Elizabeth doesn’t talk much to Jason? I mean, they’re not best friends. They—” She squinted at her brunette friend. “You didn’t actually date.”

“Exactly,” Elizabeth said. “I’m under no legal or moral obligation to talk to him. He’s part of a different life. A different Elizabeth—”

“With the same tendency to deny, deny, deny,” Gia cut in.

“I’m starting to remember why I hated you for so long.”

“Same goes, babe.” Gia sat up and squared her shoulders. “I didn’t say you had to bounce with him in bed or share long walks on the beach or bond over your love for pina coladas—”

“Gia—”

“I said that you were in denial about why you weren’t doing those things. You don’t want to bang the hottie, that’s your prerogative—”

“Then what the hell—”

Gia leaned forward, her dark eyes intense. “But I’m not going to let you sit around and pretend about the reason. No one said shit to you last year. No one ever challenged you when you lied to yourself. I’m not that kind of friend. I don’t care what the hell you do, Elizabeth. I care that you’re lying to yourself. Again.” She slammed her text shut and got to her feet. “Whatever. You do you.”

“Gia,” Courtney protested as Gia stalked out of the room. A moment later, her bedroom door slammed shut. She looked at Elizabeth. “What—”

“She’s not wrong,” her friend said sourly as she tipped the contents of her glass down her throat. She set it down with a clunk of glass against the cheap wooden dining table. “I am lying to myself. Just like you are.”

“Maybe,” Courtney admitted. “What happens when you stop?”

“’I don’t know.” Elizabeth sighed. “I’ve never been able to stop. Even when I tell myself I will…” She closed her eyes. “I just want to be safe. And happy. Why is that so much to ask?”

Courtney had no response to that, so she retrieved the wine Elizabeth had taken from her and drank.

Corinthos Penthouse: Living Room

“Initial background checks come back good,” Jason told Benny and Sonny. “Doesn’t look like there’s any reason to worry. No one’s making more money than they’re bringing in.” He hesitated and rose from the sofa. “I only found one thing that…concerns me.”

“Oh, yeah?” Benny asked, raising his brow.

“The Oasis and the Paradise Lounge? Their take so far since the merger is up double from last year,” Jason said. “They’re recording more in liquor sales, but—”

“Their inventory doesn’t match those sales,” Benny finished with a grin, reminding Sonny of a proud father. “You missed your calling, my boy. Shoulda been a forensic accountant. You got a mind for numbers—”

“You knew about this?” Sonny cut Benny off with a scowl. Damn accountant would go on for hours about training Jason for a regular profession if he didn’t stop him. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I only just saw the numbers myself a few weeks ago,” Benny responded. “I wanted to get a second opinion. Jason’s my second opinion.”

“I have a bad feeling I know where the extra money is coming from,” Jason said. “Nico Savarolli? Some of his guys used to work the streets under Moreno and Sorel. Selling coke and heroine. Pills. Anything they could get their hands on.”

“No, Nico knows my code. We’ll move the product through the territory, but none of it hits the streets in Port Charles. That’s the rule.” Sonny rose to his feet. “Anyone caught dealing is out—”

“Yeah, but—” Benny hesitated. “You gotta admit, Boss, that it’s been a rough year. We’ve been shuffling around the organization. We had to redistribute some of Jason’s responsibilities—we put it off the first time he left, but—” he glanced apologetically at Jason. “With the merger—”

“No, I get it, Benny.”

“And now we’re thinking about expansion. We just haven’t had the chance to put in any real oversight. I would have seen these numbers eventually, but—”

“Not until Nico had moved his new guy in to take the fall.” Sonny nodded. “He’s been pushing me to put Zander in his place.”

“Zander?” Jason repeated. “In charge of all the gambling in town? Is it possible we’re still talking about the same punk who dealt drugs to kids at raves?”

“My point exactly. And he was shoving pretty hard at it.” Sonny touched his chin. “I told him no, that I wasn’t sure Zander was ready. To be honest, I’m not wild about putting anyone else who worked for Moreno and Sorel in a position of power. Nico—I kept him on because I know him.”

“He might be turning a blind eye to it,” Jason offered, but Sonny knew he was just offering an excuse. Nico had pushed Zander’s promotion hard. Too hard. Too fast.

“I wonder what he’d do if I told him there’s no way in hell I’m ever going to let Zander Smith move up in this organization.” Sonny looked to Benny. “What are you thinking about this?”

“Without Jason to take over some of this paperwork, if you’d listened to Nico and promoted Zander or someone else—we would have started more paperwork. There’s a lot to go into development in Vegas. I’d be spending time there, I’d probably have to do some inspections in Atlantic City…” Benny hesitated. “To be honest, Sonny, I can’t promise I would have caught these numbers any time soon.”

Sonny sighed—he’d been overworking his loyal business manager. Time to deal with that. “Nico wanted to get his fall guy in place and push the expansion. His income was starting to outpace what he could cover in other areas. He’s not able to hide the money he’s making from dealing anymore, so he’s trying to get out while he can, and he’s setting Zander up for the fall.”

“We could let him,” Jason suggested. “Let Nico think he’s getting away with it. He might think we’re sloppy—”

“He hinted at moving some people around to free himself for Vegas,” Sonny murmured. “I didn’t get a name or specifics until—”

“Until Jason came home.” Benny tapped a pile of paperwork. “He needs to gum up the works fast. Because if things go at this pace—”

“There’ll be more eyes on him.” Sonny pursed his lips. “Bastard.”

“Tell him Zander’s gone as far as he can with us,” Jason said after a moment. “If Nico pushes someone else immediately, that’s a sign. There’s no way he’s got two guys at the same level and only moving one up. If he hangs back or continues to argue the point, then maybe there’s another angle.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Sonny looked to Benny. “I think it’s time you ask your brother to come on board. I can’t keep depending on you to do this by yourself. I’m sorry—I should have seen.”

Benny managed a smile. “I should have said something. I’ll give him a call.”

After a few more points of business, Benny left to do some more paperwork, but Jason remained.

“What’s up? You got a look on your face,” Sonny asked as he poured himself some bourbon. “Carly’s will reading is in a day or two. You thinking about Michael?”

“No.” Jason shook his head. “No. I talked to AJ, and while he’s definitely going to file for custody, I—” He sighed. “I believe him when he says he’s going to give Bobbie time. He may not be able to hold off the old man, but—”

“It’s first lick of common sense that jackass has shown yet.” Sonny wiggled his shoulders. “So, what’s up then?”

“A few days ago, I went to Kelly’s,” Jason said slowly, “and Zander was there with Elizabeth. She was annoyed with him, and he looked pretty hostile. She didn’t tell me much about what he was saying, just that he was harassing her in hopes she’d pass it on to me. Zander stormed out when I got there.”

“He must smell blood in the water.” Sonny leaned against the arm of the sofa. “He’s not stupid. He knows you’re home, he knows you hate the living shit out of him. The only reason he’s alive is because of Emily.”

“Elizabeth has nothing to do with any of it,” Jason muttered. “Why the hell is he going after her?”

Because Zander had heard the same rumors other men in the organization had. Knew the way Jason had reacted when Sorel had simply spoken to Elizabeth. Zander had harassed Elizabeth to annoy Jason, and it had worked. “Well, once I tell Nico that Zander’s promotion is permanently off the table…he’ll either leave her alone and come after you directly or—”

“He’ll harass her even more.”

Sonny crossed to his desk. “I’ll make the phone call. You may want to warn her that Zander might step it up. She ought to evict him. They still have the at-will week to week leases at Kelly’s, don’t they?”

“I don’t want to involve her any more than I have to.” Jason hesitated a moment, rubbing the back of his neck. Sonny set the phone back on the hook.

“What’s going on? I would have thought the two of you had cleared the air.” At the very least—Sonny thought the two might be back on the track Lucky Spencer’s return from the dead had derailed. Or hoped they would be. He liked the two of them together.

“Nothing.” But Jason looked away. “I don’t know. I get the feeling that she…” He waited a moment, and Sonny said nothing because he knew how hard it was for Jason to talk about what was going on inside his head. “She’ll sit down, and she’ll talk to me, but it’s not because she wants to.”

“Like she’s doing it to be nice.” Sonny muttered a swear under his breath at the stubbornness of idiots. Morons. The both of them. “Look—”

“And she’s already in the middle of this mess with Michael. I don’t—I know she’s juggling a lot with Kelly’s and school. I don’t want to make it worse.”

“I’m sure she appreciates your concern, but I think she’d rather be warned that Zander’s hostility might go up a notch. She’s a tough woman, Jase. Not much gets her down. Not anymore.” Sonny lifted a shoulder. “You’d be proud of the crap she’s spit back at people who don’t approve of her.  Give her a heads up. She’ll appreciate it.” He lifted the phone. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a call to make.”

If they were going to dance around each other for the next eighty years, Sonny might have to murder them both.

Oasis: Back Office

When Nico called him into his office, Zander had a feeling that this was gonna suck. He’d been expecting something shitty since news had filtered back that Jason had arrived home as expected.

Sonny might have trusted Nico’s judgment, might have let him move up—but Jason would never forgive or forget what Zander had done to Emily. Or that he’d once dealt drugs. And after the run-in with Elizabeth Webber at Kelly’s—well, fuck he might as well as have cut off his own head. He knew better.

But he’d seen the brunette and his annoyance had boiled over—a mistake in retrospect.  Harassing her might as well have been the last straw in his career, though it had already been on life-support. He should have avoided her. Should have gone upstairs and ignored it all.

He’d seen her sitting there, and he’d been reminded of the gossip about her and Jason—their affair several years ago, the suspicions they’d continued carrying on under Lucky’s Spencer nose—

Elizabeth was Emily’s best friend. She was Jason Morgan’s woman, even if neither of them had quite acknowledged that. She represented everything he was never gonna have in his life.

And he’d lost it.

“Listen Zander,” Nico said, his features twisted in an expression of compassion that Zander didn’t believe for a damn minute. Bastard worried about himself first, second, and last. Forever. “I just talked to Sonny—”

“No promotion for me,” Zander said blandly. “’Shocking. Do I still even have a job?”

“For now.” Nico raised a brow. “You think you can stop harassing Elizabeth Webber? Because we both know that’s why you’re in this position.” When Zander frowned, his boss continued. “I’m not an idiot, Smith. Don’t ever think there’s not eyes on you. In this business, someone is always watching.”

“I’ll leave her alone,” Zander muttered. “It was stupid—”

“You’re damn right—” Nico scowled. “Lay low for a few weeks. Sonny is gonna need someone to step up if this expansion to Vegas is gonna work, and we got too much money on the line for you to fuck it up now.”

August 28, 2016

Sorry for not posting this last night — I posted on Facebook that yesterday was a weird day in which I caught up on all the sleep I’ve been skipping. I literally slept off and on for about sixteen hours. Oy.

Anyway, I wrote this tonight, and if I can figure out a way to continue this, I will. I’ve been playing around with some historical fiction stories, so happy to come up with something. Flash Fiction #3: Illusions of Truth I don’t like the title, but, eh.

Remember — the best way to stay updated with Crimson Glass is either to subscribe to our mailing list (in the sidebar), or to Like CG on Facebook or follow me on Twitter, where I post little asides and tiny status updates. You will NEVER miss an update this way 🙂

This entry is part 1 of 5 in the Flash Fiction 60: A King's Command

Remember — no time for editing or spellcheck 😛


“Happiness in marriage is entirely a matter of chance.” – Jane Austen


The command from King James had come like a thunder cloud.

Jason, one of the king’s favored warriors and leader of the illustrious Clan Morgan, would wed the Lowland daughter of a minor chieftain who lived so close to the cursed border that he might as well be a Sassanech.

There would be no explanation for the command, no context for why James commanded it be so—and there would be no questioning. Men did not question their king and keep their head. Their family’s holdings.

Jason’s family had fought for the Bruce a century previous and remained closely allied with the royal family—had fought against the usurper Balliol. He was loyal.

He stood in the chapel before the priest, his infamous stoical nature all that kept him from raging at his king and a world in which he could be the supreme leader of his own people and not in charge of his own destiny.

A Lowlands wench would hardly survive the first winter in the Highlands, and yet he would have to breed that weakness into his sons. After all he had sacrificed and worked for—

She appeared on her father’s arm at the end of the chapel, a pretty delicate girl in a gown of blue with her with chestnut hair bound up under a gold circlet.

And she looked terrified. No doubt she had had her Lowland mind filled with stories of Highland chiefs and their rough way of life. Of Jason’s deeds in battle, which might as well appear savage to her.

“Here.” Her father—whose name Jason had not asked for—took her arm and thrust her away. The girl—Elizabeth—stumbled slightly, and Jason caught her. He eyed the father with suspicion. He seemed to happy to be rid of the girl—what could be wrong with her?

“If we may?” the priest said with a light cough.

Jason caught the eye of his king who narrowed his eyes. Whatever the reason for the commanded marriage—there was little Jason could do now. She would be his wife.

When it came time for her to give her vows, she was quiet for a moment, but her hands squeezed his and her eyes found his. They were blue—as deep and dark as the loch near his home.

“Lass,” he prompted, when she said nothing. “You must swear your oath.”

“Aye,” she said, her voice low and even. She cast a look at the priest before looking back at Jason. “Aye, I will.” She seemed more assured, as if—as if in that moment their eyes had met—he had reassured her. Her grasp on his hands eased until they just lay in his, palm to palm.

“Laird?” the priest prompted.

“Aye,” Jason said, and she smiled. A genuine smile—at odds with the fear that he had seen when she had entered the chapel. What had changed? If she was not afraid of him, then…

His shoulders tensed as he saw her father, murmuring at the king. Aye. Something was amiss here if the lass felt more at ease with a man she had known for minutes than her own family.

He would discovery what treachery was afoot.

Inside the chambers lent to them for the occasion of the wedding, the former Elizabeth Webber laced her fingers together tightly and closed her eyes. Remembering the flash she had received when she had looked into the eyes of her new husband.

He was a kind man, she told herself. Gruff. Stubborn. But kind. And if she was a good wife to him, he would be a good husband to her. She had seen them, sitting by a fire—her heavy with child, he carving the cradle where their child would sleep. They had been content. Serene.

She knew the flashes did not always come true—that they were often just a window into the possibilities. He might be killed in battle, she might be lost to disease.

But it would be better than what had come before.

If she never told him about who she was. What she was. Then she would be safe.

She just had to keep her secret.

There was a light knock on the door, and then her husband was standing there. She rose from her chair, and they both stared at each other for a long moment.

“I am…nervous,” she admitted. She looked towards the bed. “I know what we must do. That you must—that we must show the sheets tomorrow—”

“I—” Jason, her husband, hesitated. And she could feel his own nerves, his own desire to protect her—but to—she tilted her head. She did not quite recognize that second emotion, but it seemed heated.

“I will not hurt you,” he said finally. He reached for her hand. “I will never hurt you, Elizabeth. I promise that.”

It was not the truth, of course. She saw it when she took his hand. But his intent was pure, and that shone through. He would never intend to hurt her—he would never lock her away, never withhold food or human companionship.

But no one could promise a life free of hurt. And the decency she saw in him—

There was no way to know if it would last. If he would accept her secret. Her curse had a way of turning even the innocent and pure against her.

“I trust you,” Elizabeth said, finally. As much as she could ever trust. “And I will be a good wife. You will never regret this day, my lord.”

“My name is Jason,” he said, drawing her close and dipping his head to kiss her. She did not know quite what he wanted from her, but his lips were smooth and warm, and she felt a tingle in her chest, warmth spreading to her fingertips.

“Aye, Jason,” she said when he raised his head, her breath a bit short. He dipped his head again—but she cried out.

Pain flashed in her chest—like heavy metal cutting into her skin. Elizabeth stumbled to the side, falling to her knees, clutching her hands to her chest. There was no dagger. No weapon.

“Elizabeth—”

It was not her pain she had felt, not her death she envisioned.

But her husband’s.

She looked at him, tears spilling down her cheeks. He would die, at the hands of someone he trusted.

“Elizabeth—” He knelt next to her. “What is it?”

She could tell him. It was unlikely that he would believe her–he might have their marriage annulled and cast her out. And still he would die.

Elizabeth closed her eyes, and tried to bring back that first image. Of the family they might create. It was still there—still possible.

She had to keep it from him, return to his home, and find a way protect him—and her secret.

August 24, 2016

I added Bittersweet, Chapter Three a little early — tomorrow I’m working a long shift and going out with friends afterwards. I was afraid I would forget, and I wanted to make sure it got posted at all four locations on time. Enjoy 🙂

Oh, and my brand-new nephew was born today 🙂 8.1 pounds, 20 inches. He’s gorgeous 🙂

This entry is part 3 of 35 in the Bittersweet

Well, you can say what you want
But it won’t change my mind
I’ll feel the same
About you
And you can tell me your reasons
But it won’t change my feelings
I’ll feel the same
About you

Say What You Want, Texas


Saturday, April 20, 2002

AJ and Courtney’s Apartment: Living Room

The last person AJ expected to see when he answered his door on a Saturday morning was his erstwhile younger brother.

But there Jason stood at his threshold, dressed in his characteristic jeans, t-shirt, and leather jacket. His expression was flat and without emotion, as always.

AJ sighed and stepped back. “Do you want to come in and yell at me, or do you want to do it from the hall?” he asked.

Jason hesitated a moment, then stepped into the room, standing by their small sofa. “I came to tell you I don’t want you to bother Elizabeth anymore. She doesn’t have anything to do with it.”

AJ shut the door. He hadn’t expected this particular complaint, but maybe he ought not to be surprised. He’d known there was a connection of some sort, a friendship between Jason and Elizabeth—he just hadn’t thought about it when he’d gone to see her. “I disagree. She lives with Michael, she takes him to school sometimes. She’s friends with my wife, with my sister. Elizabeth, whether you like it or not, is involved.”

“She isn’t going to be the one making the decisions about Michael.” Jason’s expression or stance didn’t change, but he drew in a breath and released it before continuing, his fists tight at his sides. “So leave her alone.”

Again, I have to disagree. When I file for custody, she’ll likely be called as a character witness.” AJ folded his arms. “She’s friends with my wife—she can testify that Courtney would be an amazing stepmother, she knows the family, she knows I’m sober—”

“For now,” Jason retorted. “But how long is that going to last?”

And coming from Jason of all people, this was something AJ couldn’t easily refute. He, more than anyone else, had a reason to doubt AJ’s sobriety—had seen the damage that could be done. Had been a victim of it. “I go to AA meetings twice a week,” he told his brother quietly. “And sometimes, when I’m frustrated, when I get angry, I go again. There have been weeks when I’ve gone just those two times, and others when it’s been seven days.”

Jason didn’t respond to that. Maybe he didn’t have an answer.

“I’m an alcoholic, Jason. I’m always going to be one,” AJ continued. “I can’t ever change the things I did to hurt the people that mattered. After the accident—I didn’t just hurt you, you know. I devastated my entire family. They’ll never look at me the same way. If I had been sober the night Carly fell down the steps, maybe it would have been different. I didn’t push her, but that doesn’t make me any less responsible.”

Some of the tension left Jason’s shoulders, but still his expression remained stoic. “You think it changes anything? Now that you’ve admitted what you are?”

It did for AJ, but maybe Jason would always seem him as that screw up. “Is Michael what changed between us?” he asked quietly. “After the accident, you didn’t really give a damn about me. You hated that the family covered for me, you thought I was pretty useless, but you didn’t hate me. You do now.”

Jason looked away and swallowed, his Adam’s Apple bobbing lightly. “This isn’t about what happened before—”

“Isn’t it?” AJ demanded. “You protected Carly before Michael was born because you didn’t give a damn either way. But after—when Carly was gone, and you were forced to be his father—he became someone else to protect. You started to wonder if he’d be next person in the car?”

Jason pressed his lips together, took another deep breath. “I didn’t come here for this—I just want you leave Elizabeth out of it—”

“What I did to you, what I did to my family—I’ll have to live with it for the rest of my life, but I have to forgive myself, Jason. Even if no one else ever can, I have to,” AJ retorted. “Because it’s the only way I’ll have a reason to stay sober. I love my son. And I have a right to be his father. I’m not going after him right now because he’s just lost his mother, and Bobbie’s devastated. But don’t mistake my compassion for anything else. When the time is right, I’m going after him, and I’ll use whatever tools at my disposal to win. Including Elizabeth.”

Jason’s snapping blue eyes met his, lit with anger. “And the only way you’ll step near Michael is over my dead body,” he said, his tone ice cold. He stepped towards his brother. “You’ve destroyed everything you’ve ever touched.”

He yanked the door open and stalked out. AJ silently closed it behind him, wishing like hell he could hate Jason for keeping his son from him.

But Jason wasn’t wrong. As much as AJ loathed the idea, Jason loved Michael like his own, and he was protecting him. Jason might be the only person in Michael’s life who had ever put him first and kept him there.

AJ hadn’t, but would going forward. He was sober, he was married to a wonderful woman—he had his life back, and now he wanted to share it with his son.

General Hospital: Nurse’s Station

Bobbie made a note in the scheduled rotation for the pediatric ward, grateful that Audrey Hardy’s retirement at the end of December and her subsequent promotion to the head of the nursing program at the hospital allowed Bobbie to sink her mind into work and not think about what was going on in her life.

Her grandson was at home with Lucas, still bewildered and lost over his mother’s absence. Michael might be able to understand the concept that some people die—that they went away and didn’t return, but he couldn’t apply it to Carly. Mommies didn’t die, Michael had told her. They couldn’t.

So, Lucas was attempting to keep Michael busy through a combination of video games and sugar until either Bobbie or Elizabeth could pick him up. They were going to reintroduce Jason slowly to him—he’d been out of Michael’s life for almost four years, and Jason didn’t want to upset Michael any more than he already had been.

Her life often felt like she was juggling chainsaws—if she took her eye off of one, if she allowed herself to be distracted—one might fall and slice off a limb.

“Aunt Bobbie!”

Bobbie glanced at the grating tones of her nephew, instantly feeling annoyed at herself for hating his voice. This was Lucky, their miracle returned them.

Except she had trouble reminding herself of that. The young man in front of her wore Lucky’s face, spoke with an older version of his voice—but Lucky hadn’t come home. Not in any way that truly mattered. And she could never quite forgive him for what he’d done to Lucas, even though he’d been under Helena’s brainwashing.

“Lucky.” Bobbie pulled over a chart and scrawled her signature at the bottom. “I hope you’re not ill.”

“What?” He blinked. “Oh, no. I’m here to treat you to lunch—”

“I’m quite busy, Lucky. I’ve missed a few days.” Bobbie met his eyes evenly. “And you’ve barely spoken to me since Elizabeth moved in—” And nothing more than a perfunctory visit when the police had declared Carly dead.

“There’s no point in holding that against you, Aunt Bobbie. Not now. Elizabeth made her choice. Her loss.” Lucky folded his arms, leaning on the counter of the nurse’s station. “We’re worried about you, Aunt Bobbie. Losing Carly and all.”

To her knowledge, Lucky had never shown much more concern or even awareness that Carly was part of the Spencer family, so she knew there had to be an ulterior motive for this conversation. “Lucky, why don’t you skip the buildup and get to the point?”

“Dad and I wondered if maybe you were up to the fight you’re going to have wage against the Quartermaines to keep Michael,” Lucky admitted. “After losing Carly, after everything you’ve been through, why put yourself through it?”

“There haven’t been any decisions made regarding Michael’s custody,” Bobbie said coolly, “and your father likely doesn’t care.” She arched a brow. “Interesting that you’ve suggested this after Jason came home.” God, Spencer men. Idiots.

Lucky scowled. “I don’t give a damn about him. He has nothing to do with this—”

“Elizabeth is close to Michael. She looks after him, she picks him up occasionally. Any proximity she has to Michael puts her in closer contact with Jason.” Bobbie leaned forward. “You need to let this go, Lucky.”

“I don’t give a damn about either of them,” Lucky all but growled. “She can screw whoever she wants. She walked away from me—”

“Because you didn’t love her anymore. Because you were going to marry her out of obligation. I’m proud of her for making that choice, for taking the hard road.” Bobbie gathered her charts. “I don’t know what happened to you while you were with Helena, Lucky, but you need to do some deep, hard thinking about who you want to be. Because the Lucky I buried would never treat her like this.”

“Well, maybe that’s the problem,” he said flatly. “You all think I should be that Lucky. No one gives a damn about what I’ve gone through—”

“You’re alive, aren’t you?” Bobbie snapped. “That’s more than either of my daughters can say.  Thanks for your concern, Lucky, but I’m content with the situation as it is.”

After her nephew had stormed away, she heard a throat clearing behind her. She turned to find her ex-husband standing there. “Don’t start, Tony.”

“He’s not wrong, Bobbie,” Tony Jones remarked as he scribbled signatures on a stack of charts. Not bothering to raise his head to meet her eyes. “The Quartermaines are going to fight tooth and nail for their grandson. It’s a losing battle.”

She pursed her lips and took a deep breath. She and Tony had managed to find a balance between them—a common ground to raise their son. But Tony was part of the reason any of this was happening. If not for his affair—

“I know it’s difficult to lose Carly,” Tony said, this time looking at her. There was warmth in his eyes now—a deep sadness as they both remembered the other child they had shared once. “To a car accident of all things. Bobbie, I am sorry for your loss. But—”

“Michael’s custody will work itself out,” Bobbie said, turning back to her own work. To the mundanity of schedules and charts. “Thanks for your concern, Tony, but I can handle it.”

Corinthos Warehouse: Conference Room

“I understand what you’re telling me, Nico.” Sonny passed him a snifter of brandy. “But I don’t know if I’m ready to give Zander Smith so much responsibility.”

“And I think you’re letting personal problems get in the way of profit,” Nico replied, his expression pinched and arms crossed. “You don’t care for him personally, I get it. Had a few rough run-ins—”

“He kidnapped Jason Morgan’s sister and took her on the run. Held a gun to her head—”

“And then she dated him,” Nico cut in, throwing his hands up in the air. “You can’t hold that against him—”

“Look, Nico, I’m not saying no. I’m not saying never. I’m just saying not right now. He’s worked for us less than a year—”

“He’s worked with some of my guys for nearly three. He has a head for this, Sonny, I promise you that—”

“He’s worked for me for a year,” Sonny clarified, hardening his tone. “That’s not long enough for me to trust him. I know you want to expand into Vegas. You want to beef up Atlantic City, I get all of that. But I want to be sure. It’s not worth it to me to pick the wrong guy so we can make a bit more money.”

Nico scowled at him. “You don’t trust my judgment?”

“Nico, why you pushing me on this?” Sonny demanded. “I told you—I’m not ready to give Zander Smith that kind of power. He’s a hothead who already flipped on one of his bosses because it was convenient for him. Until I’m convinced his loyalty is to me and not himself, he doesn’t move an inch.”

Nico set the brandy down with a clunk. “You’re costing us money. Every day I have to worry about two-bit bookies and mom and pop gambling parlors here, we’re not raking in the real money in Vegas—”

“And that’s the way it’ll be. That’s it, Nico. Don’t push me on this. I let you take over my clubs when you came on board. You told me you trusted my judgment, that you wanted to work with me because you were tired of supporting the wrong guy. I gave you a chance. I didn’t have to keep you in power or give you even more access.”

Nico raised his brows. “And I didn’t have to throw my support to you, bring you my resources. You want to wait on expansion until you feel all warm and cozy about my guy? Fine.”

No way Sonny was going to promote anyone in Nico’s crew until he was satisfied that they weren’t working with Mickey Roscoe. The general peace and quiet of the last year was fragile, but Sonny wanted to preserve it.  Thank God Jason was home—he’d be objective and settle things once and for all.

Kelly’s: Dining Room

Courtney filled Elizabeth’s coffee mug for the second time that day. “How long does it take to do the books anyway?” she asked.

“When you hate math as much as I do?” Elizabeth murmured, frowning at the invoice for coffee beans. Sonny should really be giving them a better discount. “Forever. At least two more cups of coffee.”

“Glad I’m not the manager.” Courtney disappeared out the front door to serve some of the straggling breakfast diners in the courtyard. With school still in session, the dining room itself was mostly deserted, leaving Elizabeth in blissful silence for a change.

She had been happy to give Bobbie a hand with managing Kelly’s—it had given her something to fill her mind when she’d turned her back on Lucky in December, and she’d been grateful to do something nice for Bobbie after she’d likely given Gia and Elizabeth a huge break on rent for their apartment.

But days like this—when she had to make the numbers even out, had to figure out exactly why they went through so many cartons of eggs when their orders didn’t always match—

It gave her a slight headache.

“Earning your keep for a change?”

Elizabeth looked up, scowling. She hadn’t heard Zander trudge down the steps, much less sit down at her table. He’d moved into her old room after she’d departed, and she preferred to keep their interactions limited to the rent payments he paid her each week.

Emily had dumped him—best decision she’d ever made—so as far as Elizabeth was concerned, her relationship with the bastard had ended there.

“Zander, if you want something to eat, Courtney’s serving in the courtyard.”

He shrugged and reached for the coffee Elizabeth hadn’t yet touched. “I’m good, thanks.”

She set the pencil down. “Is there something you want?”

Zander dumped a spoonful of sugar in the mug and stirred. “Just wishing someone would take a machine gun to your boyfriend.”

Elizabeth blinked, leaning back. “Is Lucky bothering you?” Not that it was about Lucky, but she wanted him to say it. To put his cards on the table.

“I’m not talking about Spencer.” Zander lifted the mug to his lips, his dark eyes meeting her eyes. “I’m talking about the other one.”

“Jason—” Elizabeth bit off the denial regarding her relationship with him. Zander was in a mood, and she wasn’t going to add any fuel to whatever dumbass fire was lighting up his butt. “I would have thought since you and Emily aren’t together anymore, he’d barely notice your existence.”

“Oh, you mean like everyone else?” he retorted. “No. He’s fine with rolling back in here like he owns the place and ruining everything I’ve worked for.”

Elizabeth bit back a nasty remark about Zander working for anything and took a deep breath. “I’m sorry to hear that, Zander. I know you like your job with Sonny.”

He scowled at her. “Don’t do that. You don’t give a shit about me.”

Jackass. She rolled her eyes. “Fine. I don’t particularly, no,” Elizabeth admitted. “But if you’re sitting down and harassing me in hopes that I’ll pass it on to Jason, so you can start a fight with him…” She closed her accounting book and stood. “You’re out of luck. I’m not an errand girl. You have a problem with Jason, take it up with him.”

“He should watch his back.” Zander lifted his chin. “People liked things the way it was. He’s just gonna make a mess for himself.”

She rolled her eyes and picked up the books, moving towards the counter. “Again, this is none of my business.” Elizabeth arched a brow. “Unless you’re threatening me personally, Zander. And I can’t think that’s the case.”

“Why? So you can tell Jason that and have me dumped in the harbor by sundown?” he retorted.

It was starting to sound like a worthwhile plan, but she just sighed and poured herself another cup of coffee. “Zander, you and I don’t have a problem. We weren’t particularly close when you were dating Emily, we’ve barely spoken since you broke up. If it means you’ll leave me the hell alone, I’ll be happy to tell Jason you’re annoying me.”

Anything to get him out of her face.

The door to Kelly’s swung open then, as Jason held the door open for Courtney lugging a tub of dirty dishes. She stopped when she saw Zander with Elizabeth at the counter. “Oh. Hey.”

“Jason, Zander has something he’d like to share with you,” Elizabeth said with a bright smile. Why did he always seem to show up on the tail end of conversations with men he hated? Was she a goddamn drama magnet?

Jason scowled at the sight of his sister’s ex-boyfriend, as if he hadn’t really been expecting him to still be around. Maybe he’d hoped someone would have shot him in the last year or so. Certainly, Elizabeth wouldn’t have minded.

“Go to hell,” Zander muttered. He shoved away from the counter and stalked out through the kitchen door.

“Was he bothering you?” Jason demanded as Courtney followed Zander’s path into the kitchen. He closed the distance between the door and the counter in seconds. “Elizabeth—”

“He’s a mosquito, Jason. Annoying, but hardly dangerous.” She shrugged and opened the books again. “He wanted to annoy me enough to pass it on to you. I guess you’re cramping his style or something. I don’t know. I’m not getting involved.”

And didn’t it feel like she’d said that about a hundred times in the last few days? Maybe if she said it enough, it would be true.

She just wanted to live her life—to go class, go to work, have fun with some friends—and just be Elizabeth Webber. She was finally figuring out who that was supposed to be, and she didn’t appreciate people mucking it up.

“I don’t want you involved,” he muttered, taking a seat. “I didn’t want Emily involved with him either, but not like she listened.”

“She did eventually,” Elizabeth offered with no small amount of sympathy. She’d never quite cared for the drug dealer turned ally, particularly after he’d drugged her at that rave and had kidnapped her best friend with a gun to her head, holding her hostage.

“Yeah, but not soon enough. I’m stuck with him.”

She flipped his mug and filled his coffee cup. “He asked to rent my room when I moved out in January. In retrospect, I should have refused, but…” She laughed to herself as she picked up her pencil to attack the books again. “I know Lucky hates him more than anyone except you, and it seemed like a good way to stick it to him.”

Jason offered her half a smile, but she could see him hesitating. Almost as if he wanted to ask her something. And because there was no point in pretending this conversation wouldn’t happen eventually. Better to get it over with before he heard another version from someone else. She arched a brow. “Or didn’t Sonny mention that the breakup was pretty bad?”

“He didn’t really elaborate,” he admitted, taking a sip. “Just that you called off the wedding and moved out.” Of course, he wouldn’t ask specifics. Why make it easy for her?

“Well.” Elizabeth reluctantly set down her pencil. It was necessary to tell him this—to make sure Jason understood that she had a new life now. One she’d worked hard for and didn’t plan to give up for anyone. “I mean, it was already a disaster. You saw it. You were the only one who did, but I was miserable and too stubborn to admit it. I mean, who turns their back on a miracle?” She sighed. “Long story short, I was already regretting saying yes, but I thought it would get better. You know, love isn’t always easy, yada, yada.”

Jason waited a beat, frowning when she didn’t continue. “So, what tipped the scale?” he asked. “Sonny said you got to the altar, then walked away.”

“Well, first, I found out that the last time Helena did her brainwashing, she actually…I don’t know, erased Lucky’s feelings toward me.” She bit her lip, deciding to gloss over the worst of it. “He wasn’t in love with me anymore. Gia overheard Nikolas and Lucky talking about it and immediately came to tell me. I was already halfway out the window—I was standing there in a wedding dress I hated, about to marry someone I wasn’t even sure I liked anymore—” She shrugged. “Gia’s thing was the icing on the cake. I only walked down the aisle so no one would ever doubt that it was my choice to end things.”

He just stared at her for a long moment. “She erased his feelings for you?” he asked.

“Yeah. I guess. So he said. Anyway.” Elizabeth wiggled her shoulders. “I don’t want really to talk about it anymore. I feel like I’ve spent the last three years talking about Lucky Spencer. It’s over. I lived it, and I’m done with it.”

He waited a moment, then tipped his head toward her accounting books. “You need some help with that?”

“Oh, thank God.” She shoved the whole mess at him. “Free coffee for life if you can figure out how I screwed this up.”

August 19, 2016

I forgot to update the main page a few days ago, so here’s a bit of round-up with two updates and some general news.

First and foremost, Bittersweet is back on the schedule. Chapter Two was posted on Thursday morning, and Chapter Three will be posted next Thursday. Thursdays are my pick for updates because it fits my future schedule best at the moment. That might change.

Second, I posted the next flash fiction, Flash Fiction #2: Anger Management, a bit early. It’s not a continuation of last week. I’m not even sure it’s good, but it was fun to write and the whole point of the Flash Fiction is to get me to loosen up and stop putting so much pressure on myself.

Writing has been hard this year. Writing The Best Thing in 2014 and 2015 was very difficult, time consuming, and basically soul consuming. And it’s literally the best thing I’ve ever written. And I feel that like every time I write, I have to match or do better than TBT. And that’s an insane standard that no one is setting for me but me. So I’m hoping Flash Fiction will shake me out of it.

And on that note, Damaged is postponed again. It’s not a decision I’m happy with, but it’s just not coming together for me, and I don’t know why. I have so many good ideas, and I can see the scenes in my head, but actually sitting down to write them has been really difficult. I had some luck last week, and wrote a few scenes that felt really good, so maybe I’ll still have a breakthrough. But until I get into writing stride, it’s insane to keep promising you’ll get Season Three any time soon. You’ll know when I know.

The Fall 2016 semester starts September 6. I have classes four nights a week, and then on Friday and Saturdays, I’ll be continuing the tutoring job I started this summer. And during the weekdays, I’ll still be subbing 1-3 days a week. It’s going to be a crazy schedule. Plus, I have my usual stuff: friends, my family — which is getting bigger next week because my sister-in-law is due to have a C-section–my second nephew, James, will be joining his sister Mackenzie, and his cousins Olivia, Isla, and Nolan.

And sometimes….I’m gonna wanna sleep.

That’s not to say I won’t find any time to write. I still want to do NaNoWriMo. You guys haven’t seen most of the efforts from last year yet, but I did get a huge chunk of Bittersweet done, and I want to find a way to prioritize it. But I really don’t want to promise anything.

Someone asked what kind of research I was doing — I’m working on a seminar paper exploring the political appointments made to the Dominican Republic during the administration of Woodrow Wilson, under Secretary of State William Jennings Bryan. There were accusations of corruption, graft, and incompetence–it’s been fun but super time-consuming, as you might imagine, ha.