I didn’t have it in myself to go with grace
‘Cause when I’d fight, you used to tell me I was brave
And if I’m dead to you, why are you at the wake?
Cursing my name, wishing I stayed
Look at how my tears ricochet

---

January 2003

At least they hadn’t been in bed.

It was the only consolation, she told herself, though of course now that she’d thought it — the image was in her head, so it no longer brought any comfort.

None of it did.

Elizabeth flipped the chair, rested it on the table, gripping the legs tightly. Such a moron. Such a stupid, stupid little girl. Mistake after mistake after mistake — just how much grace was Jason supposed to give her?

Hadn’t he tried to talk to her after she’d walked out of the penthouse? Hadn’t he forgiven her after every terrible, awful thing she’d done last summer? Hadn’t he forgiven her for everything she’d put him through with Lucky—

The one time—the one time—she’d been in a position to show him a single ounce of understanding and empathy, she’d failed. She’d had perfection on a silver platter and thrown it in his face.

Her body began to tremble first, a slithering of rage and fury and shame spiraling up from her toes, skin tingling—

And with a broken sob, Elizabeth hurled the chair still in her hands towards the door, shattering the glass, jagged shards falling to the ground, glittering like broken diamonds on the tiled floor.

She stared blindly at it for a long moment, then raised her eyes to the broken glass, slowly walking towards it. There was a long piece still stuck in one of the panes. Elizabeth gripped it in both of her fingers, tugged it out.

“Well, that didn’t solve anything,” she muttered, sighing and dropping it to the ground. The anger had burned itself out, and all that was left was numbness. Nothing. Nothing, that’s all that was left.

And now she’d have a broken door to deal with, so that wasn’t great. Maybe Bobbie and Mike would understand she’d gone a little crazy.

She went to the kitchen to retrieve a broom and dustbin, and when she came back, she saw a familiar figure in the courtyard scrutinizing the door, a cell phone in his hand.

Well, at least he wasn’t in bed with that blonde bitch right now, Elizabeth’s traitorous mind thought.

Shut up.

“Elizabeth?” Jason’s voice carried through the locked door. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah.” She twisted the bolt, then pulled it open. “Um, there was just—there was an accident.”

Jason stepped over the threshold, glanced down at the chair next to the door, then lifted his eyes to hers. “An accident,” he repeated.

“Yeah.” She stepped back, biting her lip. “I accidentally let go of the chair when I was still holding it.” She carefully swept up the shards of glass. “I need to go find cardboard and call Mike.”

“You’re all alone here?” Jason frowned, looked around the diner. “Where’s the rest of the staff?”

“Gone. I took my time cleaning up. It’s really fine. I—” Elizabeth drew her brows together, looked at him oddly. “What are you doing here? We’ve been closed for a half hour.”

“I was passing by. I heard the glass.” Jason shoved his hands in his pocket. “Do I get to ask why you threw a chair at the door?”

“No,” Elizabeth said shortly. She went into the kitchen, dumped the trash, then found a piece of cardboard and some tape. She’d hoped Jason would take the hint, but he was still in the diner, his phone at his ear.

“Yeah, I’ll hang out until you get here. Thanks.” Jason slid the phone back in his pocket. “I have a guy coming to handle that.”

“I didn’t ask you do anything. I can call Mike. He can take it out of my paycheck.” She gestured at the door. “So you can go back to whatever you were doing.” Or whoever, she thought bitterly.

Jason’s mouth tightened. “So we’re back to this?”

“Back to what?” she asked dully, even though she knew exactly what he was talking about. Elizabeth returned to the counter, pretending to look through receipts. Now that he’d arranged to have the door fixed, there was no chance he’d leave.

Why had he shown up tonight of all nights? Was it the universe making her pay for a lifetime of sins?

“It’s been months—”

“You want to know why I threw the chair?” Elizabeth snapped, jerking her head up. “Because I tried to do someone a favor today, and instead I got slapped in the face. Metaphorically speaking. And I have no one to blame but myself for being a stupid little girl who can’t do anything right. I didn’t ask you to fix the damn door, Jason. I made this problem, I’ll handle it.”

Jason exhaled slowly, nodded. “I’ll have him send you a bill then. But I’m not leaving the door broken overnight when I can handle it. Bobbie and Mike have always been good to me. I’d do it for any waitress who worked here.”

Any waitress. Because that’s all that she was now. Just another waitress. Her throat tightened, her eyes stung. No one’s fault but her own. She’d made it this way. He was being nice, and she was being an ungrateful bitch.

God, he was so lucky to be done with her.

“I’m sorry,” Elizabeth said after a moment. “I’m not in a good mood. It’s not fair to take it out on you. Especially since you didn’t do a-anything to deserve it.” Her lip trembled, and she had to look down, staring hard at her bundled receipts.

“I don’t want you to be sorry—” His voice was closer now, and the pressure was building behind her eyes—he needed to go, she had to make him go.

Elizabeth raised her head, a pithy, smart remark about Courtney on her lips, but it died when she saw him looking at her the way he always had. And she simply had no defense for that. The first tear slid down her cheek. “Well, too bad. Because sorry is all I have to offer.” Her voice broke. “Because I am, you know. Sorry.”

His hands gripped the edge of the counter, and something in his eyes changed, a twitch in his cheek. “Elizabeth.”

“It’s too late for that, I know. I’m really good at knowing when I was wrong about three months too late. That’s how long it took last year.” She brushed at her eyes with the heel of her palm. “After the park. Three months. And it’s fine. It doesn’t matter anymore. I know. Because I know.” She met his eyes, even as her voice faltered. “I know it’s too late, and it’s okay. It really is.” She wanted it to be okay. “You’re happy, aren’t you?”

He swallowed hard, opened his mouth, but then closed it. “I’m on trial for murder in a few weeks,” he offered, and she let out a choked sob mixed with a giggle.

“Oh, well, yeah, I didn’t think about that. Fair enough.” She took a deep breath. “But that’s all I want, you know. You deserve that. To be happy with…someone who deserves you.” Her smile was wobbly. “Finally, right?”

Jason grimaced, started around the counter. “How did you—”

“I found out on my own,” she added. “I know—I know you can’t—that no one can know. Because of the trial. And Brenda. I won’t say anything. I’m not saying anything now.”

“There’s—I mean, there’s something to know,” Jason admitted. “But it’s not what you think—” He grimaced, looked away. “I didn’t think you’d find out.”

Elizabeth frowned. “What?”

“Listen—”

There was a knock at the door, and they both turned to find one of Jason’s men there—she recognized him from the warehouse. And there was someone with him. “That must be your repair guy.” She cleared her throat, took a step back. “Thanks, I mean. Now that he’s here, you can go, right?”

“Hey. Can we talk about this—” Jason snagged her arm as she passed him, and she looked back at him. “We can talk, can’t we?”

“What’s left to talk about?” she asked. “I told you, I’m happy for you.”

“Then why are you crying and throwing chairs at doors?” he asked, his voice a bit rougher. He stepped closer and she had to tilt her chin to meet his eyes. “We’ll talk. The door will get fixed. And I-I can walk you home.”

“I don’t know—” She chewed her bottom lip. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” she managed. “For either of us. Or for the people outside that door.”

“I don’t care about them—”

“That’s not true,” she said gently, and he sighed. “Jason—”

The knock came again, and this time he released her, but his longer legs carried him more quickly to the door. “Hey, sorry. Paulie, you can stay while he fixes it, can’t you?” he asked.

The guard raised his brows. “Uh, okay. Sure.”

“Good. Lock up when you’re done.” He looked back to Elizabeth. “Go get your things. I’ll take you home.”

She nearly argued with him, but it felt different with the strangers in the diner. If they worked with Jason, then Mike wouldn’t mind if she left them here to lock up.

Silently, she went into the kitchen, found her jacket and bag, then followed Jason into the courtyard. “Jason, this really isn’t necessary. And it’s in public—”

“I’ll worry about that tomorrow,” Jason said.

She rolled her eyes. “Fine, but when they’re putting you in the electric chair, don’t blame me,” she muttered, stalking towards the street.

“New York hasn’t executed anyone since 1963,” he said dryly, falling into step next to her.

“Trust you to know that.”

They reached her building quickly, and Elizabeth reluctantly climbed the stairs to her studio, hearing his boots echoing in the stairwell behind her. Her fingers trembled as she unlocked the deadbolt and the two other locks he’d had installed after her kidnapping.

“Well, I’m here,” she said, almost lamely. She stripped off her coat. The moment had passed, she thought. He’d realize it, say his goodbyes, and they’d go back to the way things had been.

Jason closed the door, took a deep breath. “Zander.”  He looked at her. “I could never understand what you were doing with him.”

“Well, that makes two of us,” she muttered, folding her arms, and glaring at the floor. “Is there a reason you’re bringing up one of my worst mistakes? Because you could have left me at the diner—”

“I understand it now.”

She closed her mouth, stared at him. “What?”

He shoved his hands in his pockets, uncomfortable, and looked away. “I wanted you to look at me. To…just give me a minute to explain things. After that night at the penthouse,” he added. Her cheeks flooded with shame. “And you didn’t. And it wasn’t exactly fun to carry that around. I knew I’d hurt you. I knew—” Jason grimaced, shook his head. “And maybe I deserved a little of that—I know I lied—but it was just too hard. And it hurt too much to keep trying. Not that I was trying very hard,” he admitted.

“It was more than I did,” Elizabeth said softly, and he offered a half smile.

“Maybe. It hurt too much,” he repeated. “And it was easier…with someone else. Someone without all that history.”

Elizabeth exhaled slowly. “Right. I get that. You really didn’t need to come all the way over here to tell me Courtney makes you happier than me—” She stalked past him, started to twist the deadbolt.

“I never said that.”

Her fingers stilled on the bolt, and she glanced at him over her shoulder suspiciously. “Then—”

“Were you happier with Zander?” he added, and she sighed, looked back at the door, staring at it hard. “But it was easier with him, wasn’t it?”

“Well, he didn’t answer his phone and run off to Carly every five minutes,” she bit out, then exhaled slowly as the shame spiraled through her. “I didn’t have to wonder how he felt about me. If it was real. Or in my head. If maybe I was just seeing things that weren’t there.” Tears clung to her lashes again. “So, yeah, it was easier with him. But it didn’t matter. Because he wasn’t you.”

Jason gently took her by the elbow, and she turned so that they faced each other again. “It’s easier with her,” he said, and Elizabeth sucked in a harsh breath. “But it’s not better. She’s not you.”

“Oh, God—” She covered her face with her hands. “I’m dreaming. I’m hallucinating. I fell into the harbor or something—and now I’m dead—”

“Hey.” His voice was soft, his touch gentle as he covered her hands and pulled them away, holding onto them, lacing their fingers together. “I’m right here, Elizabeth. And I’m not going anywhere. Unless you want me to.”

“How can you even look at me after everything I’ve done to hurt you?” she managed. “Jason—”

“Because it’s you. And I get to decide who I look at.” He released her hand to curl a finger beneath her chin, lifting it slightly. “So do you want me to leave?”

“No.” The word was nearly inaudible as it escaped her lips, but he heard it and smiled, and then her lips twitched. “But you should probably go. Your wife is at home, isn’t she? And there’s that murder trial—how would it look if someone told Scott Baldwin you were seen leaving my studio?”

“Then I guess I have to make sure I’m not seen.” Jason was grinning even as he lowered his head to kiss her smiling mouth, knocking the smirk right off her face.

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