Separate Lives
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters in this fic!
Chapter Twenty-One
Trixie angled her way around a table, smiled at her brother and Whitney who seemed to be oblivious to all but each other, and made her way towards the well-stocked bar housed in the corner of the banquet room. She cast an appraising eye around the room, took it all in, and grinned. All the people she loved most in the world were standing, sitting or chatting comfortably with each other, having enjoyed an absolutely delicious dinner and dessert. Low hums of conversations floated on the air, punctuated with occasional bursts of laughter. Relaxing instrumental music came out of the impressive stereo system the DJ had set up near a small dance floor. She smiled into her glass of iced tea when Di and Honey burst into a round of girlish giggles. There were times out in California when the feelings of isolation settled in. This was one of those golden moments she would remember, that would help ward off the lonely and make her feel more complete and less alone.
Dan sidled up next to her and quietly uttered an order to the bartender, hooking a thumb towards Trixie to include her in it. She needed something more celebratory than boring, old iced tea, he figured with a roguish grin, judging by the maudlin set to her mouth. "Having a good time?"
Trixie jolted, surprised by his arrival. "It's a nice night," she responded after catching her breath. Sensing the group was ready for something more, the DJ cued up a livelier selection. Trixie chuckled when Honey immediately grabbed Brian. Di followed suit with her husband. Both women pulled their slightly reluctant significant others out onto the dance floor, where they begin to dip and sway to the music. The dancing couples were joined by a few others. Sighing, she concentrated on Honey and Brian and aimed her glass in their direction. "Look at them, Dan. They look so happy. Tomorrow is going to be a dream come true for them."
"The rehearsal went very well." Dan tapped her on the shoulder and murmured, "I was very proud of you and Jim. Both of you handled yourselves well." He chose not to add that he wasn't the only one to notice it or discuss it. The apparent ease existing between Jim and Trixie was in stark contrast to their behavior from the previous Bob-White wedding. It was responsible for setting a lot of minds wondering and tongues wagging about the two.
She concentrating on swirling her drink with a thin red stirrer, and admitted slowly, "It was surprisingly easy, Dan, much easier than I expected it to be. I can honestly tell you that I was dreading a good portion of this week. I remembered how hard it was to go through everything at Mart's wedding. Jim and me weren't even partnered up then." A small shake of her head sent her curls bouncing around her shoulders, followed by a self-deprecating laugh, directly entirely at herself. "This time around is much different. I never expected it to turn out this well."
"I've got to give props where it's due," he proclaimed. The bartender had left two shots by his elbow before going on to serve Tom and Regan at the other end of the bar. So far, Trixie hadn't noticed that he had ordered two. As far as he could tell she hadn't taken her eyes off of the room. It was a habit she had developed over the years. Always looking, always watching, always observing. Not much participating. With the new view he had of her, he understood the tendency much more. It wasn't simply to avoid Jim. It was now an ingrained part of her. "You did it the right way. You eased yourself into it and laid a great foundation. Tomorrow will be even better." He picked up his short, squat glass and saluted her with it. "Good for you, Trix. We're all proud of you."
Trixie stared at his drink, a lovely, disarming amber color, and tried not to get embarrassed. She never took flattery well. It wasn't easy for her to accept. "What is that stuff?" she inquired, more to distract him from their current subject than for any particular desire to know what it was.
Recognizing the tactic, he let her change the subject. With his free hand he nudged her glass forward and encouraged her to accept it with a disarming grin. "How about you trade in that sissy drink of yours for something a little stronger?" he challenged, arching a dark eyebrow, waiting to see if she would accept it.
"Sissy drink?" she repeated, bristling at his description of her regular and non-alcoholic iced tea.
"Normally a glass filled with iced tea and that has a slice of lemon floating in it with a packet or two of sugar stirred in definitely rates high on the scale as a sissy drink," he defended, leaning in a little closer so that only she could hear his words. "Come on, Trix. Try something your Aunt Alicia wouldn't touch with a ten-foot pole. Try something a little…" He paused intently before finishing with, "stronger."
Trixie blew out a low, long-suffering breath. She knew what was coming. "You're going to dare me, aren't you?" she accused, narrowing her eyes at him.
"I intend to. Double and triple, if you need it." This time when he leaned in, he murmured for her ears only, goading her further, "You're not going to let a common DEA agent get the better of you, are you? What would the other CDA agents say? They would most certainly be disappointed in you, Hollywood." He shook his head in sham sympathy.
Blue eyes turned into fierce blue slits. She scowled at him and swore lightly under her breath, making him shout with a bout of delighted laughter. She couldn't stand being dared. By anyone, let alone him. She definitely didn't like him bringing up the name of her agency. Slender fingers grabbed the glass without a moment's regret. Not much of a drinker, she knocked it back with a quick flick of the wrist. Her wrist wasn't quite as practiced or smooth as Dan's. And the cough that followed the trailing liquor as it went down her throat was definitely as unsmooth and uncool as it could get. With shaking fingers, she wiped away the gathered tears that sparkled on her eyelashes and sneered at Dan, who couldn't contain his amusement. "Shut up," she managed to get out between light coughs.
Highly amused, Dan winked at her and reached around to give her a friendly pound on the back. Anything to help out a friend in need. "Hey, you've got to forgive me," he remarked casually. "I've got to even things up between us somehow, right? It's not my fault you have the most supercool job out of us all."
Trixie's latest cough dissolved into a choked, startled laugh. "Oh, my, Dan," she gasped, giving up and leaning back against the bar. Now that her throat didn't feel like it was on fire, she felt much better and could almost visualize the liquid traveling through her body to her extremities. Feeling calmer, she tapped him on the forehead and added, "You're priceless."
"Don't I know it." With his back to the bar, he rested both elbows on the top of the smooth, rounded edge and watched the dance floor. It was packed. Even his uncle was getting into the action, dancing with the unengaged friend of Honey's. It impressed him to see Bill Regan giving some serious attention to something else besides his horses and ended his desire to flirt with the woman. "I'm flattered to know that you recognize my worth."
Trixie pushed the shot glass behind her, well out of sight, quickly coming to the conclusion that she had reached her quota of alcohol for the evening. She went back to her first choice without a moment's regret. The iced tea helped cool off any remnants of the other liquid. "We all know how much you're worth, Mangan," she declared, her voice intentionally smooth so that he couldn't decide if she was being sarcastic or sincere.
Having heard the tail end of the conversation, Jim turned to the two after placing his order. He accepted a glass from the bartender, shot an amused glance at Trixie who was still red-faced but had stopped coughing. "Are you all right, Trixie?" he inquired, understanding what had happened. Dan had used the same ploy with him before, too. Since none of the Bob-Whites were serious drinkers, Dan took it upon himself at times to dare them into attempting something they normally wouldn't choose. In fact, he was the only one of the lot who could stand the harder stuff.
"I think he just tried to kill me," Trixie grumbled, glaring accusingly at Dan. Unconsciously, she moved closer to Jim.
Jim joined in Dan's laughter. "Yeah, he can be lethal. He dared you, right?" At Trixie's nod, he added, "Dan's tried that trick on all of us before. I haven't known any one to come out on the winning end of it before."
"Hey, what can I say? It's a gift," Dan remarked with decided good cheer, holding his hands up, palms out, before accepting his second shot. He swallowed it with a practiced ease that had Trixie rolling her eyes and pushed himself away from the bar. The thought of leaving the two of them together was extremely tempting. "I'll see you guys around." With a wink and another one of his trademark grins, he rejoined the party with an undeniable swagger, whistling the entire way.
Trixie nursed her iced tea and watched Dan work his way around the dance floor, finally stopping by Miss Trask. Any annoyance she felt for him dissipated when he asked her to dance with him. As always, her heart softened. He had the potential to be as annoying, irritating, and infuriating as her brother Mart but there was that endearing quality about him. She couldn't stay mad at him long. "I forgot about that little trick of Dan's," she remarked after a moment of silence.
"Brian, Mart and me learned to avoid him when he was in a playful mood like that." He offered her his crooked grin, didn't recognize the effect it had on her or how much it reminded her of all the good times they had shared together before their break. "It was safer all around for us."
"I can see why," she replied sarcastically, releasing one small left-over cough, and took a large sip from her sissy but safe drink. Her eyes widened degree by degree when her father took the spot that Dan had recently vacated. "Hi, Daddy," she greeted, shifting glances nervously from her father to Jim and back again. She couldn't fathom why her father had willingly put himself in the same place as them. Then she remembered their conversation earlier, before the rehearsal, and how he had accused her that she was letting Jim back in. The difficulty she experienced in catching her breath had absolutely nothing to do with her recent taste of hard alcohol.
Placing an order for drinks hadn't been his only reason for coming to the bar. He lifted an eyebrow, looked pointedly at Jim, and carefully inserted himself between the two, laughing inwardly to himself the entire time. As casually as he could, he placed an order for a glass of white wine for Helen and a regular beer for him. It was difficult but he tried hard not to look too pleased with himself for interrupting what could be termed as a private moment between the two of them. He wasn't about to let it happen. Not on his watch. "It's a good party," he noted with decided good cheer, giving a mental pat on his back. Just because he had agreed to be sort of nice to Jim didn't mean he was willing to let them be alone.
"Miss Trask did a great job with the rehearsal and dinner. I can't wait to see what the reception is like," Trixie answered, suddenly grateful for the shot of whiskey Dan had more or less pushed her into. She didn't relish the thought of having her father and Jim in the same vicinity, especially when she was there to physically witness it. Knowing it was cowardly of her, she waved towards her mother, who waved back and motioned her to come over to the other side of the room. Addressing her father and Jim, she said brightly, "Excuse me. Moms is calling me."
There was nothing quite like a rat deserting a sinking ship. Jim stared daggers at her departing back, unable to contemplate his turn of bad luck. Chatting with Peter Belden wasn't high on his list of things that he wanted to do in this lifetime. Being left alone with the man rated extremely low, residing somewhere between experiencing the joys of having a kidney stone and suffering through oral surgery…without the proper numbing medication. Wanting to grumble and grouch, he settled for a frown and grabbed his beer. The sip was long and extremely fortifying. His mind worked frantically to come up with a way to extricate himself from the situation without appearing to be intimidated by the older man. Nothing was forthcoming.
It was one of the few, recent times where the two men were in complete and harmonious accord. "Nice," Peter grumbled under his breath, annoyed with his daughter. He didn't glare at Trixie but followed her progress across the room. As she had said, she immediately sought the safety of her mother's presence. With Helen giving him quite the look of ultimate displeasure from across the room, having witnessed his successful attempt to break up the two and now hearing it firsthand from a highly amused Trixie, there was no way out for him. He couldn't leave, not without earning Helen's righteous ire. Damn it.
"Tell me about it," mumbled Jim, stuck in the same position for a different reason. No one was waiting to poke at him for running off. Nope. It was simply his own pride that was keeping him there. He had too much of it and wouldn't let others think the eldest Belden in the room had unnerved him enough to leave his post. He was stuck. Oh, hell.
Peter drew back, startled, and stared at the grim-faced redhead. At least the younger man wasn't dumb, he thought with a ghost of a grin flittering across his mouth. And it was odd to have something in common with him. He wasn't certain if he liked it or not. "It backfired on me," he admitted lowly. He would have followed it up with a chuckle had he been with anyone but Jim.
"That's what I figured." Jim picked up his glass, took another swallow, and settled back against the bar. He was stuck there, too, unless he wanted Trixie to think he was a coward. She was watching him, not with indignation or the promise of retribution should he leave like Helen was staring at her husband, but with downright amusement. Amusement! Worse, comical amusement at that. Her hands were wrapped around her body, her lips were quivering, and the blue of her eyes clearly sparkled from across the room. She was definitely enjoying his predicament. Out of the corner of his mouth he uttered, "Two minutes ought to do it."
Peter considered the suggested time, nodded his head sagely, and put an elbow on the bar. He deliberately turned his back on the two woman so that they couldn't attempt to read his lips from across the room. "Throw in a smile or two, maybe even a hearty chuckle, and it'll have to do. Helen won't lock me out of our bedroom tonight." She was quite capable of doing that, and much more, if she felt the situation warranted it. Obviously frustrated with him for breaking up Jim and Trixie's innocent meeting, she looked ready to go for his jugular the second they got home if he followed up that ill-advised action with another one.
"And Trixie won't think I'm a wimp. I can handle it if you can." Jim glanced down at his watch. "Two minutes it is, then."
If it was anyone else, Peter would have been laughing by now. As it was, trapped into conversing with Jim by his own hands, there wasn't anything he could do but stay there and wait it out. For the first time in a long time, he actually looked at the man next to him and received a bit of a shock. Not quite as young as he remembered him looking, definitely not as open, and the green eyes weren't nearly as friendly or happy, either. In fact, Peter reluctantly admitted, Jim kind of carried the same expression he saw at times on Trixie's face when she thought no one was looking at her, kind of like something from life had painted a permanent mark. He choked back a gasp at the realization, even damned himself for unintentionally making such a connection between his daughter and the person he viewed responsible for pushing her out of their home state, and stared down into his beer, having no desire to finish it off. As much as he wanted to, he couldn't overlook his sudden epiphany. It was there, forcing him to see something in Jim he didn't want to acknowledge. To put it plainly, he despised it but couldn't turn it back.
Jim arched an eyebrow, unnerved by Peter's continuing silence. Since there weren't any blunt or sharp objects within easy reach, he attempted to relax and said, a tint of humor to his voice, "I hear the weather's supposed to be good tomorrow. No rain is predicted for Honey's wedding day."
"Helen's excited about it. We aren't supposed to get any until Sunday," Peter answered, almost in astonishment that they were engaged in an actual conversation, and pushed aside his new and unnerving thoughts. Now wasn't the time to focus on them. Later, when he was home. He caught Helen out of the corner of his eyes and briefly wondered what she would say when he shared them with her. She would probably be ecstatic since she had never stopped hoping for a reconciliation between the former couple.
"Tom is driving the newlyweds to the airport on Sunday. They're departing for sunny Antigua for their trip. Lucky them," he tacked on. Although he appeared to be watching the dance floor, he was more aware of the man by his side. There was a need to be wary and on edge when Peter Belden was near.
"Hmm. Nice place for a honeymoon," Peter answered calmly. He frowned at Helen when she bent her head closer to Trixie. They were up to something, he could tell. He didn't need to hear what they were saying to know that it was about him and Jim. "Have you ever been there?"
"No." Jim shook his head. "In fact, I haven't been anywhere but here or the city for the longest of times. You know, I can't remember the last time I went on a vacation. It's been awhile." He stared off into the distance and tried to figure out his last vacation. It shocked him to know that he couldn't come up with one. The trips with the Bob-Whites were all very clear but he couldn't recall any trip past the one his parents took him on after his graduation from NYU. Had it really been that long since he had taken some time for himself?
Silence fell, lasted for a good thirty seconds. It wasn't horribly uncomfortable but Peter decided it needed to be ended. He cleared his throat and inquired, "How much longer?"
Jim shook off his preoccupation, frustrated with himself for allowing his life to fall into such a shambles. Study, school, and then work were what drove him. It rather sucked, made him feel a little pitiful and a lot pathetic. Something had to give, he decided with a small sneer aimed entirely at himself. As soon as he could arrange it, he would see about that vacation. Probably not the islands but somewhere else. He would figure it later. "Another minute should do it."
Peter turned back around and stared at Trixie and Helen. He couldn't look away. Both women were watching them with extreme and open interest, waiting to see how long they would wait it out. Incredibly, he pointed it out to Jim. It wasn't out of a desire to bond. Oh, no. This had to do with self-preservation. They were up to something. "What do you think Trixie and Helen are talking about right now?"
Jim's mouth nearly hit the floor. Peter was bringing Trixie up to him? He tapped an ear to make certain he had heard correctly. Slowly, he brought his gaze to the two laughing women and considered it. They certainly resembled two people who were plotting something of importance. His eyebrows snapped together. "Do you think they're betting on how long we're going to talk to each other?" he wondered aloud.
"I'd say you're half-right. They are definitely setting up a bet over there. Most likely they're predicting which one of us will stay here and suck it up the longest." If he knew his wife, and he most certainly did, Helen was putting her money on him, figuratively speaking, of course. "Helen's probably finished putting up the kitchen chores for Sunday, the day after the wedding. Loser gets stuck doing them." He saw Trixie reach out and accept her mother's handshake before both ladies turned killer glares their way. "Yeah. Trixie just agreed to it."
The notion of the Belden women betting on them intrigued him. Jim tapped a finger to his chin and asked a rather stupid question, "Who's taking you?"
The other employees he worked with at the bank would have been shocked to see Peter Belden roll his eyes and answer in a sarcastic tone he rarely, if ever, used, "Come on. That's got to be obvious. Helen's got me, of course." His grin grew when Helen pointed at him and nodded her head yes, as if she had heard Jim's question through the entire distance between them. "Which means…"
"Trixie's stuck with me." Jim said it with wonder, liking the way it sounded, even if she was stuck with him as a choice by default. Maybe it was only over a silly bet and Trixie didn't have another option since her father was already taken but it felt damn good to have her choose him, for whatever the reason. After setting his half-empty glass back on the bar, he crossed his ankles and attempted to look deceptively casual, a look that Dan could admittedly pull off much more competently than he could. He locked his gaze on Trixie, waited for her to notice. When she did, he tipped a finger in silent acknowledgement, communicating silently that he would do the best that he possibly could to help her win her bet. He was rewarded with the return of a bright flash of red to her cheeks.
Peter downed his drink and hooked a foot around the leg of a stool, showing the other man without words that he didn't have any desire to leave now. He was in it for the long haul. "So, are you game? Do you want to see who can stick it out the longest?" He motioned for the bartender, who was wisely keeping to the other side of the bar, and ordered another beer. "I've got to warn you, though. Helen is very competitive. She hates losing."
"I'll take you on. I seem to remember that Trixie feels the same way," Jim murmured, keeping her in his sights until she turned away.
Peter accepted his newest glass, stared down into the liquid topped with soft white foam. The others in the room seemed to have come to a unanimous decision. Each and every one of them was giving the two of them an exceptionally wide berth. Accepting their collective decision, he rapidly went through different ideas to get Jim to leave first. His lips curled upwards into a slightly sinister smile. It was really all too simple. All he had to do was mention Trixie. He began without the slightest hesitation, "I can see that you and Trixie are becoming…friendly with each other."
Jim's mouth went slack. He was the last person on earth he ever expected to discuss Trixie with. When he caught the nearly coolly calculating smirk on the older man's face, he realized what the older man was doing. Refusing to go on the defense, knowing that if he did he would most certainly lose, he answered with a level of comfort he didn't actually feel but could almost successfully imitate, "We came to an agreement."
"Ah," Peter said knowingly, bobbing his head up and down. He steepled his fingers together under his chin. "Right. The famous truce. I seem to have heard a lot about it recently. Tell me your take on it, Jim. It's a fascinating topic and I'd enjoy hearing more about it," he invited, a gleam to his eyes and a cutting edge to his smile.
Damn. The man was quite an adversary. It was always the quiet ones. Jim forced his legs to lock, absolutely refused to shuffle his feet. "It was my idea," he explained haltingly, hating the fact that he could feel a flush starting to crawl up his neck. "For the wedding."
"I understand the need for it. Trixie shared it with me before we left for the rehearsal. You wanted to make things easier for Honey and Brian." Peter could almost feel the taste of victory. It was sweet, saccharine sweet, and was almost within his reach. Jim was trying to act unconcerned and unbothered but he wasn't succeeding. He decided to press his advantage. "Very nice and considerate of you. You'll have to tell me more, though. Has it been successful?"
Jim's collar started to feel tight around his throat. Because he wanted to loosen his tie, his long fingers curled around his glass. He stayed his ground, unwilling to leave. "I think so," he bit out more sharply than he intended.
Peter smoothed away a worried frown, wondering why Jim hadn't turned tail and raced away from him yet. He obviously was a more formidable opponent than he had anticipated. Or maybe he hadn't asked the right questions yet. Coming to that conclusion, he contemplated a set of possible questions. The one that stuck out the most left more than a hint of distaste in his mouth. Wishing he had something stronger than mere beer, he gripped the glass and inquired as casually as he could muster, "What's next for you?"
"I don't understand." Confused, Jim stared at Peter, needing clarification before he answered the question.
"What's next for you?" Peter repeated, trying not to grimace. It wasn't something he wanted to know. "And for Trixie? Do you plan on keeping this truce of yours active or will it be declared null and void once the wedding is over? Will things go back to the way they were before?"
"None of your business." Jim glowered down at his glass, keeping back a righteous swear with a noticeable effort.
"No need to get irritated," Peter remarked cheerfully. Victory was nearly in his grasp. "I'm merely making small talk here, Jim, that's all. You know. I'm keeping the conversation flowing while we wait it out. My daughter seems to be the best choice for us to talk about." He affected an innocent look. "I don't mean anything by it, Jim. You've got to believe me. I really don't."
Jim breathed in harshly, let out a long, low answering breath. The man was one hell of an accomplished liar. "Like hell," he uttered under his breath, narrowing his eyes and showing Peter that he didn't believe him at all.
"Can't fool you, can I?" Peter's lips twitched with dark, suppressed humor and he added further insult to injury by reaching out and clapping Jim on the shoulder. "Well, it seems that you and your family didn't waste all that money at NYU and Harvard Law School. There definitely are some smarts up there in that brain of yours."
He couldn't help it. He downed the last of his beer and laid the glass back on the counter with a sharp snap. One was always his limit. He never allowed himself more. Recognizing the fact that he was going to need to keep his wits about him, Jim turned down the bartender's quiet offer for a second one. Using the time to analyze the situation, he came up with the only possible way to turn the tables. Overlooking the thinly veiled insult was necessary. He turned back to Peter, his face as warm as he could make it, and prompted, "I believe you wanted to know what was next, right?"
The satisfied expression slipped off his face. Peter didn't want to know, had only inquired to be a smart ass and make Jim furious enough, embarrassed enough, or distressed enough to abandon his post. Now that Jim had brought it back up, he couldn't say anything but grouch out a less-than-enthusiastic, "Yeah."
Jim drew out a sigh that was meant to be irritating, starting to feel like he may have gained the upper hand for the first time. "I don't know the answer to that one myself, Mr. Belden. I doubt we'll go back to the way it's been for the past few years, though." Not that he wanted to brag, especially to Trixie's dad, but he couldn't resist tacking on, "We've had too many nice moments to settle for that again."
Jim had the pleasure of watching Peter's eyes darken to nearly black. "What kind of nice moments?" he gritted out through clenched teeth. Stalking away seemed like an absolutely fabulous idea but the two pairs of feminine blue eyes studying them intently from across the room wouldn't allow him to leave.
"Just nice moments," Jim answered with simple yet deceptive ease, rubbing more than a little salt over an open wound. "We've had a couple of nice conversations, went to White Plains together yesterday, and even took Jupiter and Susie out for a ride together. That's all. Nothing big." He shrugged a shoulder and smothered a satisfied grin. He could almost see the steam coming out of Peter's ears. Trixie's father definitely did not appreciate knowing that his daughter and her ex were enjoying time together, even if they were in some kind of purgatory where neither could actually or accurately name the current state of their relationship.
Nothing big. Right. Peter's thoughts were as grim as the sudden look on his face. No wonder why Trixie had come in so happy and carefree yesterday afternoon. He thought it was because of the group trip to White Plains but it looked like he was quite wrong. Then there was the softening of her features that occurred when they were discussing Jim earlier. No doubt about it. She was letting him back in. Time would only tell how far it would go. Dropping all pretense, he faced the young man down. "She'll go back to California," he reminded Jim with a spitefulness he never knew he was capable of experiencing.
"And I'll head back to the city." Neither thought sat well upon him. The smile slid off as the feeling of impending victory evaporated into nothingness.
Peter wasted no time in pressing his advantage. "So, you see, this truce of yours is more a 'time out of time' type of a thing. I doubt if it will be lasting or anything. She has her life out in sunny San Diego. You've got yours in big, bad New York City. Seems to me that you two have merely paved the way for making the few times a year you're actually in the same town together a little more pleasant for everyone. No big deal. Right?"
A dark look settled over his features. It wasn't anything new or anything he didn't realize. Peter didn't state anything but the truth. But the truth he was saying…it had the power to hurt, to grate, and to blow a hole through the resurgence of hope that had started to rekindle within him. Time out of time. San Diego. And New York City. There certainly didn't seem to be any kind of a middle ground there; at least, nothing that his generally shrewd green eyes could see.
Another long pocket of silence, with Peter becoming more and more assured of a win. "You realize we could call it a draw," Jim suggested, overlooking the provoking words from a minute earlier. He scanned the room, taking it all in. Life in the room continued on without them. Dancing, laughing, and good times. Everyone was experiencing it…everyone, that is, but him. He was the only one trapped in a moment from pure and utter hell. "If we leave together, no one would lose. Trixie and Mrs. Belden would probably end up sharing the duties in the kitchen."
Peter rubbed his hand over his chin and looked at it from all different angles. It sounded great…except he wouldn't win. He would, essentially, be waving a large white flag. Not bloody likely. "Hmm. I see. Everyone wins. You, me, Trixie, Helen. I like it," he lied and went in for the kill. "But I'll only agree to it on one condition."
Jim stood stock-still, inherently knowing that he was not going to like the condition. Not one bit. He hated to ask but did anyway. "What is it?"
"You answer my last question of the evening." Feeling supremely confident, Peter laid down his second empty glass.
He was going to absolutely despise the question. There wasn't a single doubt in his mind. Jim studied the older man. The aura of confidence was hard to ignore. "I'll reserve the right to not answer your question," he declared, needing an out.
"You certainly can if you don't want to answer it. We do happen to live in a free country, you know. All you'd have to do is leave, which would make me and Helen the winners. I wouldn't think any less of you." Peter shrugged his shoulder, wondered which way the young man would go. He leveled his gaze on Jim, almost felt sorry for the poor sap. The desire to win overrode his quick bout of sympathy. He pulled the trigger and waited for the blood to spill. "Are you still in love with my daughter?"
Jim didn't think twice. There was no way in hell he was answering that loaded question. No way. He looked Peter square in the eye, earning the older man's respect for not simply walking away, and offered his white flag without a moment's hesitation. "You win," he declared. With those simply uttered words, he turned on his heels and strode swiftly away.
"That's what I thought." Peter didn't revel in his triumph like he imagined he would. Most of his animosity towards Jim dissipated. Only a small bit remained since he was, after all, Trixie's father, and Trixie had been hurt and moved away. He had received a definitive, if unwilling, answer to his question. Peter slumped against the bar and watched the redhead stride away. Then he glanced towards Trixie, who was shaking her head in obvious disgruntlement to Helen's victorious smirk. He wondered if Trixie knew…worse, he wondered how she truly felt about Jim. Scrubbing a hand over his face, he started threading his way through the crowd towards his ecstatic wife.
I need to thank the wonderful editors who help me make each chapter better! Thanks so much to Pam, Joyce and the best sister anyone could ever wish to have!