Chapter 2

Jason ducked his head as he stepped into the bedroom and a rolled up newspaper came flying at his head. Elizabeth frowned apologetically as she pulled herself up in bed, holding out a hand for her morning cup of coffee that he always brought her on Sunday mornings; the benefits of a champagne induced hangover.

"Port Charles sucks," she muttered, wrapping her hands around the warm mug. She closed her eyes and breathed in deeply, cracking a smile. "This almost makes it better."

"What did the city do to you?" he asked, grinning when he noticed that she'd left the business section on the bed for him.

"It's left me jobless. Broke. Alone. With far too much free time," she pouted, opening her eyes to look at him. "I've been looking for a job for three months, Jason. Three months. This damn city has nothing to offer me and my stupid art degree." Shaking her head, she took a long, thoughtful sip. "What the hell was I thinking? Studying art? Like I was actually going to paint things and people would want to buy them."

"People did buy them," he reminded her, laying the paper out across his lap and skimming the headlines.

"Yeah, but they have to keep buying them," she stressed, her shoulders slumping. "I've almost run out of the money I made from my gallery showing and my severance package." She tipped her head in his direction. "And it's not like I have many bills. You own this place. And I buy what – groceries? A pay-per-view movie every now and then? You won't even let me pay my own damn cell phone bill since we got on that stupid plan together. Where the hell did all my money go?"

Jason cleared his throat and kept his eyes on the paper, knowing it was better to let her rant this out than to actually point out where her money had gone.

"Sure, I've bought a lot of paint supplies and some odds and ends for the penthouse, but it just doesn't add up," she muttered under her breath.

He nodded her along, his eyes lifting in the direction of their bedroom closet – well, her bedroom closet, seeing as what used to house his t-shirts, his jeans, various pairs of boots, and a couple of suits and tuxes was now home to every damn item that Elizabeth Webber owned.

From the time he moved into the penthouse, he always disliked how large the closet was in the master bedroom, and he felt in adequate when he failed to fill it up. It just seemed pointless to have fifty pairs of jeans and ten rows of t-shirt, but Elizabeth, oh, she just loved buying the same pair of shoes in five different colors and five blouses to match.

It was ridiculous.

At first, he tried to let it go, tried to ignore how her clothes started to spill over to his side of the closet and make their way into his drawers, but when he couldn't find a damn pair of pants and t-shirt to wear, it was just too much. So they fought, and she apologized, and went into some huge thing about how shopping made her feel better about being all worthless and unemployed, and he just couldn't be mad at her.

And that was how she got his entire closet.

God, if he didn't like her so much he'd hate her.

"Jason," she whined, dropping her head to his shoulder as she nestled the mug safely between them. "I have to find a job."

"I told you, I would hire you full time-"

"And overpay me," she groaned, pressing her face into his arm. "You can't pay me overtime for sitting in your office and filling out books once a week."

"I'm not just paying you for the books," he teased, kissing her on top of her head.

He tried to get Elizabeth to come more than once a week, but they realized it was difficult enough to have her sitting across from him in a pencil skirt and buttoned blouse for more than five minutes without wanting to clear his desk off.

Yeah, he spent a good three hours by the water cooler when Elizabeth came in, going to his office only after he knew she was done with the paperwork.

She smacked him playfully on the arm. "Yeah, if you're paying me for sex, then you owe me a lot more than what you've already paid me." Laughing, she looked up at him. "I'm serious though, Jason. I have to get a job. A real one. Nothing part-time. No temping. And no waiting tables."

He chuckled at the thought of the one day she'd spent as a waitress at Kelly's. She wasn't one for remembering orders and refilling glasses without knocking them over. By the end of her shift, Georgie and Mike were both ready to pay her to quit. And to top it off, she cried about it for nearly two days.

It was completely awful.

She wasn't much for temping at other offices or running errands, and she'd even dog walked for a couple of weeks, but then one of the mutts chewed up her designer heel, and she was through. He knew she was capable of doing anything she wanted, but it was like she was stilted by the fact that none of these things involved art, and he knew it was making her miserable.

"Just paint," he shrugged.

"Painting doesn't pay bills," she sighed, nibbling her lip.

"Well, you could paint the penthouse," he offered, regretting the words immediately. She'd been talking about color schemes for their bathroom since the day she moved in, and he'd done nothing but cringe and avoid the argument all together.

"And you'll pay me?" she asked, arching her eyebrows. He nodded and she rolled her eyes. "You can't pay me to paint my own home." Sighing heavily, she brought her cup of coffee to her mouth. "I just hate that there's nothing for me to do in Port Charles, you know? I can't teach because I don't have an education degree. I can't freelance because no one really needs any of that kind of work, and I can't get a job at another gallery because there's not one."

"The closet place for me to get a good job is Manhattan, and I hate the city. It's busy and has dirty subways and people that dress way better than me." She grinned at her own joke. "I just wish I could find something here that I love. It's so frustrating." She pressed her lips to the warm mug. "What kind of town doesn't have a place for art?"

"You could make one," he said simply, giving her a serious look when she laughed. "You could lease the old gallery, Elizabeth."

Every time they were downtown, walking or at a red light, her gaze would always fall to the empty building, the place that she'd love so much for so many years, and he almost hated her boss for moving to Manhattan.

She scoffed, throwing the covers back and getting out of bed. "I think all that whiskey you've been drinking every weekend has gone to your head," she said, starting for the bathroom door, coffee in hand. "I'm broke. And unemployed. And just not in the position to do any of that."

She closed the door before he could argue, and he turned back to his paper with a sigh, hoping she would find something that made her happy.

Because without that, what was there to keep her here?

**********

"You're surprisingly quiet today," Lulu murmured, looping her arm through Elizabeth's as they stood next to a rack of designer jeans.

On sale designer jeans.

Unfortunately, she'd checked her bank account balance before meeting Lulu for brunch and shopping, another Sunday tradition, which she hadn't minded in the beginning. Except now she was down to $78.84 and everything would be gone. Elizabeth frowned and hung a pair back on the rack.

Being poor was so hard, and it was wearing on her sanity.

That money would buy her gas and food for the next week, maybe two, but it meant no expensive lattes (sure, her boyfriend was in the coffee business, but sometimes she just couldn't stop herself) and no stopping at the flashy sale signs.

"Exhausted, I guess," Elizabeth murmured, wrinkling her nose in pretend disgust as she backed away from the rack. "I'm so relieved wedding season seems to be over. The next wedding is like six months away for some guy Jason does business with. I don't see why I have to go, but Jason says if he has too, so do I."

"The mayor of New York City's nephew," Lulu chimed in cheerfully, reminding Elizabeth of her ability to memorize her and Johnny's social calendar for months and months on end. "He's done a lot of business for them in Manhattan. And it's always good to have politicians on your side – well, that's what my father says anyway."

She paused, eyeing a gorgeous green sweater that almost made Elizabeth foam at the mouth. "Wedding season isn't exactly over," she pointed out not-so-subtly. "If you and Jason could pick a date, you could beat the mayor's nephew and his fiancé to the altar."

"Yeah," she grunted, running her fingers over the sweater and swooning over how the fabric felt beneath her fingertips.

She and Jason had tried time and time again to tell Johnny and Lulu the truth, but they failed miserably each time. They were both so damn excited that it was almost as if they were getting married all over again, and even when Jason took Johnny to Jake's or Elizabeth took Lulu shopping, they couldn't break the news.

They were terrible friends.

Who actually went on with an engagement that was supposed to be a joke?

Why couldn't Johnny and Lulu have gotten married on April Fools Day?

Ha.

Maybe she should suggest that to Jason.

"You've been engaged for three months," Lulu sighed, throwing her arm over her shoulder. "And you're still not wearing your ring, which I understand. I wasn't too fond of the ring that John first gave me, but it's your engagement ring. You have to love it."

"We just moved in together," Elizabeth reminded her, rolling her eyes when she glanced down at Lulu's left ring finger, where her sparkly wedding band was nestled against the very gorgeous diamond ring Johnny had proposed with. "Still mixing our clothes together to do laundry and getting into the routine of making dinner instead of ordering out. We're not-"

"Oh, John and I never mixed our clothes until we lived together, and I find something so romantic about finding his t-shirts in with mine or even our underwear," she cut in, a silly smile on her face. "I just love being married."

"I know," Elizabeth murmured, frowning heavily as she lifted the sweater from the rack and held it against her body. She knew without trying it on that it would have been a perfect fit, something she was still trying to find with Jason.

Sure, living with him was probably the best decision they'd made since they became a couple, but there was still so much balance they lacked, and they weren't ready to get married, especially when they were up against Johnny and Lulu. They fucking loved being married, which only made Jason and Elizabeth hate the idea even more.

Well, at least it did Elizabeth.

Mostly because Lulu was the perfect wife.

She enjoyed cleaning; polishing furniture, doing dishes, and vacuuming. All things that Elizabeth could only do when Jason royally pissed her off, and, unfortunately for the both of them, he'd yet to go that far since they moved in together. Hence, the maid.

And she could cook, like really cook in a way that made Elizabeth wonder if she'd gone to culinary school or something in secret, but Lulu just laughed and said that a wife had to feed her husband. Elizabeth could make a bowl of cereal and spaghetti from a jar, but she tended to overcook the noodles, and that was where she drew the line. And she couldn't fathom feeding Jason takeout Chinese and pizza for the rest of their lives.

Oh, and the worst was that Lulu didn't mind not working. It didn't bother Elizabeth so much, but it was that she was so content in letting Johnny take care of her. Her mindset was that, as the wife, she cooked, cleaned, and tended to her husband's every need, and, in return, he provided for her in every possible way. And sometimes that way meant a new pair of high heels with a fancy name scribbled on the sole.

Honestly, Elizabeth had never been a truly independent woman. Johnny and Jason had been looking after her since they were kids, but she always had an identity outside of that; she was witty and sassy, a damn good artist on a good day, and she could take care of herself financially. It was mostly emotionally where she lacked, but what person didn't thrive on a good, deep connection?

Yeah, she had that with that Jason, and she wouldn't give that up for anything, but she couldn't let him support her completely. Lulu was so settled, so ready and willing to have babies and a future, and Elizabeth was just terrified of it all. She wanted her own money, her own place in their relationship, and her own identity. How could she keep any of that when she could barely hold onto it now?

And at least, Lulu was good at being a housewife and would probably be the best damn doting mother that ever walked the earth. Elizabeth would have sucked, completely, wholeheartedly sucked at being any of the things that Lulu was, and sadly, that was what was required of a wife.

She was in her mid-twenties, unemployed, and living off her rich boyfriend. Seriously, what did she have to offer someone?

Frowning, she turned around and caught herself in the mirror, the green sweater still draped over her. It looked absolutely perfect next to her skin tone and dark curls, and there was just no way for her to pass it up.

She needed this sweater, and she was willing to ignore the seventy dollar price tag to have it.