Okay, people, time is officially moving forward. The spiraling jumps and The Day the Papers were Served is done; we're just over the halfway point and with the bulk of the exposition/explanation out of the way, things will start happening a little faster. Once more, a huge shoutout and thank you to lawand_disorder and MScAngel2 for their stellar beta reading and editing skills; they are hugely appreciated.
So, um, I guess that's it. I also want to say 'thank you' for all the comments and kudos and thumbs' up; they really do help and have made this story so much more enjoyable to write.
And now, on with the show!
Refraction
August 14, 2012
As Nick disappeared into the bathroom after trouncing her at Scrabble (which upset her less than she'd expected, given her competitive streak, but — as Chris had put it — since neither of them were wordsmiths, there really wasn't anything to be upset about), Jayne wondered at the absolutely inconceivable ways her life had changed in the last month.
And the foremost of those changes wasn't the fact that she was getting a divorce, though it was certainly in the top three.
No.
No, the number one change was that she'd finally been forced to confront the underlying reality of her life up 'til now. Despite everything, she hadn't quite understood one of the fundamental truths about Phil — the fact that if he didn't want it to be true, it simply wasn't, reality notwithstanding — until well after the papers were served, because her soon-to-be-ex-husband hadn't bothered to so much as acknowledge the fact that she'd filed for divorce, never mind make any move to proceed, which left the rest of the world trapped in an infuriating limbo.
She knew he'd received the papers, because the lawyer Hanna and Pearl had gotten her in touch with had started off with a Process Server, which meant that not only did a live human deliver the papers, but he also ensured that a video recording was made of each recipient accepting said papers, so as to eliminate the lie of 'I got never got them'. That video was immediately verified and authenticated, and then placed in a safe deposit box until it was needed. Then, after seven days with no contact from Phil to either of them, he proceeded to file a Decree Nisi.
Rex Tennant was very, very thorough, Jayne had discovered. Then again, that was why he was the only attorney her friends had recommended. Strongly recommended.
But in the three weeks since that day, Phil hadn't so much as alluded to her actions . . . and the four times she'd seen him since then, he'd also ignored every attempt she made to discuss it, despite her best efforts. And her lawyer had informed her that Phil wasn't communicating through his own attorney either, so everyone was at a loss as to what the hell he was doing.
Except Chris.
When Jayne had lamented Phil's stubborn refusal to deal with reality two days prior, he'd hummed thoughtfully and then said, "Well, it's probably because he doesn't think you mean it. That you're bluffing, as it were."
It had been a long time since Jayne had felt so stupid, but she knew instantly that her partner was right. Phil had never believed that she had the ability to handle life or do things on her own, so of coursehe thought she was 'throwing another tantrum'. Her frustrated rage at realizing this nearly caused an earthquake, but Rex was quick to point out the bright side of it.
Namely, that Phil's refusal to accept or acknowledge the divorce meant he would have no say in the terms and conditions she had laid out. Should it go to court, he wouldn't have a leg to stand on, since Rex started his divorce process with a Process Server, and naturally had the certificate to prove it. He didn't have to try another method to find Phil, because it wasn't a matter of 'can't find him'. It was a matter of Phil refusing to acknowledge it.
But if he continued that trend, then Jayne would get everything she'd asked for in the settlement. Most importantly, that was primary, though shared, custody of their children — if Phil applied for and received UK citizenship, which she was dumfounded to learn he had never done. Should he refuse to do so, she was asking for sole custody. And either way, she'd requested that he not be permitted to take the kids out of the country. It had been a heartrending decision for Jayne, but, given his ties to America, she simply couldn't trust him not take them and run, if for no other reason than to 'punish' her.
Also, thanks to the advice of Paul Mason, her new Man of Business, she had several options to work with in regards to their shared assets. She wasn't out to make a fortune off this, but she wasn't going to let him take her to the cleaner's, either.
It went without saying that she was completely leaving her children out of their monetary issues, other than the university funds they'd set up once each adoption was finalized.
A gentle hand coming to rest on her shoulder jolted her out of her thoughts and she glanced back, meeting eyes that were as blue as her own and wondering why it was still a little jarring to see blue instead of hazel, even after all these weeks.
"Okay?" Nick asked, giving her a lopsided grin.
"Okay," she replied with a nod, letting herself rest against him for minute. It still bemused her to realize how comfortable she'd become with him, and not just verbally. She leaned on him now almost — almost — as easily as she did Chris. But it was always at her own initiative; Nick never touched her first beyond a hand on her forearm or shoulder. That was something she'd been puzzled by for the longest time, because neither Chris nor Phil had ever had any such restraint, but when she realized that she flinched away from Phil's touch now, she'd abruptly understood.
And promptly broken down in tears, calling Chris to blubber at him about how wonderful it was to be respected like that. He'd taken it with good humor, though something in his voice made her suspect he wasn't nearly as sanguine about her deepening friendship with Nick as he was trying to appear. So she'd made it a point to dial back on talking about him, because she refused to hurt her partner like that, especially when there was no need for it.
Still, her growing comfort with Nick had done nothing to lessen the ache of missing Chris; she had to be so careful about what she said regarding her divorce that their conversations had become almost . . . stilted. And that was driving them both up the wall, to the point that she'd said 'screw it' and decided to start properly talking to him again. But when Rex had assured her at a meeting later that same damn day that she was doing the best thing — well, should Phil decide to join reality and accept that this divorce was happening — Jayne had firmed her resolve.
She'd cried herself to sleep that night, but she hadn't called her partner.
So now, looking at Nick's tender expression, she was unable to hold back a small sigh, one that he understood immediately.
"I know, cara mia," he murmured, taking a step back and letting her go. "And I'm sorry. If I could trade places with him, I would."
And she knew he would in a heartbeat.
That was the best and worst part about this relationship. Nicholas du Lac wasn't remotely bothered, annoyed, resentful, or envious of Chris. He simply accepted that her partner and best friend was her partner and best friend, and thus, the person who would always be first for her. That easy understanding was amazing, but at the same time, she felt guilty, because this wonderful man was here for her and she appreciated that beyond measure, she did . . . but given the choice, she would still want — would still choose — Chris.
The fact that Nick did not hold this against her also made it both better and worse. He deserved better from her, she knew, but he held no illusions about getting it — and no resentment, which helped tremendously because that gave her total control over how much she was willing to give him. Unlike with Phil, she didn't feel obligated because, you know . . . husband. And Chris . . .
That went without saying.
So despite the lingering guilt, she could and did enjoy cuddling with Nick when things just became too much, because she knew that he would only give what she specifically asked for. Nor would he ask anything for himself, not unless she unambiguously indicated that she was okay with it.
A sudden knock on the door interrupted her before she could think of a reply and they exchanged puzzled looks before Nick stepped back again as Jayne checked the security camera.
Seeing Phil standing there did not improve her mood.
But maybe he was finally here to talk about their divorce, so with an aggrieved sigh, she let him in.
"Phil," was all she said to Nick, who scowled fiercely before moving back to her shoulder, radiating protectiveness and pulling an involuntary smile to her lips. It faded when Phil strolled arrogantly through the door, though his gobsmacked expression on seeing her new shadow was hilarious.
"Who's he?" her ex demanded, looking both affronted and like he actually thought he deserved an answer. By now, Jayne wasn't surprised by that, or even annoyed, though Nick's response caught her off-guard.
"I'm her new teddy bear," he said snidely, shifting a little so he was standing directly behind her. "Who the hell are you?"
Phil actually choked. And Jayne almost died trying not to laugh. It was the first time in years that someone had managed to out-arrogance the sorry bastard and she would have given anything for a camera.
"You — I — you —" he stuttered, still looking stunned, and Nick actually sniffed in disdain.
"Ah. Judging by your inability to complete a sentence, you're the idiot ex-husband," he drawled, carefully resting his hands on her shoulders while he took a very malicious glee in winding Phil up.
"Ex?" Phil gasped, looking shocked again, and Jayne bit her tongue to keep from responding. It was what he wanted: to make her snap and lose her composure so he could justify his actions because she was 'throwing a tantrum'. It also confirmed that he still didn't believe she was serious about divorcing him.
"Huh," Nick said to Jayne, dropping his head so he could talk directly to her and dismissing the other man entirely. "I meant 'idiot' as hyperbole, but—"
"I beg your pardon?!" Phil roared, causing Nick to slowly, deliberately, look at him. The room was suddenly heavy with danger and Jayne swallowed. This was one area where Nick differed substantially from Chris: she honestly wasn't sure she could stop him if Phil pushed him too far. The problem was that she didn't dare try to diffuse the tension, because Phil would, like as not, say something hateful to her, which would anger Nick even more. And faster.
"I suggest you calm down and try that again," the man in question said very, very gently. Jayne swallowed again — and then a third time, because Phil was either oblivious to or just ignoring both the danger and the threat.
"For God's sake, Jayne," he said to her, his voice full of exasperation, "is Dean not enough? How many men do you need in your bed?"
Jayne had no chance to even process that before Nick moved around her so quickly and smoothly it almost didn't seem real, walked calmly to Phil, and, with a smile that actually scared her, slammed his fist into that soft belly.
Phil's shocked gasp of pain echoed through the room, but behind her own surprise, all Jayne felt was savage satisfaction as he doubled over, clutching his stomach and whimpering. She couldn't have done that for herself and she refused to let Chris, but the vindication was unbelievable. Intellectually, she knew that Phil's accusations were a load of crap, but she hadn't realized how badly she'd craved the knowledge that someone else thought the same thing. That it was Nick, who didn't know them nearly as well as Robin or Karen but was still one of the closest people to her and Chris in their weird mix of professional and personal, and thus someone who could maybe, arguably, see Phil's point, just made it so much sweeter.
"If you have a brain in your head, you'll apologize," he said quietly but with such icy contempt, Jayne shivered when she heard it. Without another word, he took a single step back, still holding Phil's gaze while keeping himself between them, and she winced again, because the physical threat was palpable.
To everyone but Phil, who had finally quit wheezing, though he still looked shocked. And a little bewildered. But mostly he just looked wounded and put-upon, the very picture of 'patient forbearance'.
"Really, Jayne?" he asked her, completely ignoring the lethal weapon standing two feet away from him . . . though to both her and Nick's absolute astonishment, he didn't seem angry at all. When he kept talking, they (to their continuing disbelief) understood why. "I come here in good faith because we need to start working on our marriage, and you meet me with your new boytoy? What, did Dean lose interest when he realized I knew?" he demanded petulantly, to her resigned irritation.
And Nick's utterly stunned rage.
He actually snarled and stepped forward with unmistakable intent, his hands clenching into fists as he drew his right arm back. When Phil realized he was about to get hit again, he blinked rapidly but finally, finally woke up to reality and scurried back, actually running into the door in a way that was unintentionally funny . . . especially since it was coupled with his openly offended expression as he staggered a few steps to keep his balance.
But Jayne wouldn't indulge herself by laughing at him, because behind her humor was genuine outrage at not just his new — well, not new, but expanded — accusations, but also at his continuing refusal to acknowledge her.
"What do you want, Phil?" she asked, resigning herself to putting up with him for a little longer, though at least now she knew he'd be civil.
Or not, and then he'd apparently get punched.
She was annoyed enough that either way worked for her, but they really needed to talk and since he was here, she might as well try.
He blinked at her, eyebrows raised, then said, "I told you: I want to work on our marriage. And I want to see my kids; surely they miss their dad."
The second request wasn't wholly unreasonable on the surface, though neither Kieran nor Jess had expressed any desire to see their father, at least not to Jayne. And she hadn't asked, because the situation was so convoluted that she was afraid she wouldn't have any answers for their inevitable questions. But children are frequently a lot more aware of things than adults realize (or that the kids let on), so Kieran wasn't nearly as in the dark as everyone thought.
And Jayne had no intention of going there, not until Phil had accepted the situation and they'd worked out an agreement she could trust him to keep. She'd be damned if she let her children be subjected to the heartache and confusion she was dealing with.
As for the 'work on our marriage' part . . . Jayne simply gaped at him for a solid minute before saying, slowly and with such utter disdain that she saw Nick flinch when he heard her, "I've filed for divorce, Phil. You've got the papers. We don't have a marriage to work on."
When he scoffed at her, she had to grab Nick's arm in a vise grip to keep him from doing something to her ex that would result in a lot of blood. And pain. And from the look on his face, quite a bit of screaming.
"I've looked up two different marriage counselors we can try," Phil replied, still oblivious to everything he didn't want to see or hear, digging around in his pockets until he found his phone, which he used to text her. "Both of them have open appointments for Monday, so let me know who you want to use."
And then . . . he left. He just . . . walked out the door.
Whistling.
It took Jayne several seconds to realize the low growl echoing through the room was coming from her.
And Nick was actually shaking with rage.
"Say the word," he rasped without looking at her, his eyes fixed on Phil's rapidly-retreating figure, and Jayne actually felt the word forming on her tongue.
But then Chris' face flashed through her mind and she stopped, taking a deep breath before moving to shut — and lock — the door. Hopefully, losing sight of Phil would calm Nick down. Which it sort-of did, to Jayne's immense relief.
Though she did have to wonder, given the sheer number of people who wanted to commit violence against her ex-husband, why she kept stopping them.
Oh, right.
Prison.
And she could finally admit that Phil just wasn't worth it.
"I know I don't have the right to ask," Nick suddenly said, startling her into a tiny jump when his voice came out of nowhere. But he didn't touch her. He didn't even turn to look at her; his eyes remained fixed on the closed door. "But if I'm not he—no. If you're alone when he shows up, will you please call me?" he asked, everything about him screaming that he was deadly serious and his eyes full of dark resolve when he finally turned to face her. "I don't trust him around you. He's too stupid and too arrogant. And I'll be damned if I end up killing him for something he did while Chris or I weren't here. Because if he touches you, Jayne, I will kill him. Or I'll hold Chris' shirt while he does."
Jayne opened and closed her mouth a few times while she processed that matter-of-fact statement, warmth spreading through her as his request filtered through her mind. It never occurred to her to be offended or upset, because she knew Nick meant no slight against her. He simply knew that she wasn't prone to violence, even against Phil, no matter how furious she was at him. The problem was that Phil knew the same thing, and as he had just demonstrated yet again, he had no common sense when it came to her.
Therefore, it seemed that she had now acquired a bodyguard, if she wanted him.
Hmm.
Yeah, she could live with that. It was something she would never have foreseen, to be sure, but she certainly wasn't going to refuse, especially since it would give Chris at least a little of the peace of mind he so desperately needed, knowing that she had protection, even though he wasn't providing it.
(yet again, despite sharing the thought, they both failed to see the truth behind it)
"Of course," she replied, meeting his eyes and giving him a small but genuine smile. He was still seething, but her agreement calmed him a little more even as she watched, and once the fury had cleared from his eyes, she went to him and wrapped him in a hug that he returned with such force, she wheezed in surprise.
"Sorry," he whispered in her hair, loosening his embrace a little but not letting her go. They stood like that for several minutes before he finally drew back and shifted his hands to her waist, his expression thoughtful.
"What?" Jayne asked when he didn't speak, pulling free of his light grip and perching on the arm of her settee before fixing him with a curious look.
"Well, I — does he always do that?" Nick said, making a vague gesture with his left hand. "Completely ignore anything you say about divorce, I mean."
A scowl instantly came to her lips. "Yes," she almost snapped, the simmering embers of her irritation flaring up at the reminder. "Every single time."
"Huh," he said. "Have you thought about . . . well, it might be a good idea to get some kind of recorder so that the next time he does that, you've got proof. That w—"
"Oh, that's brilliant," Jayne interrupted, her mind whirling because someone outside the situation had said it. It was a thought she'd had before, but she hadn't followed through on it for the simple reason she wasn't sure what was and wasn't allowed in divorce proceedings. And then, to her embarrassment, she'd completely forgotten to ask Rex about it.
"I try," Nick replied arrogantly, grinning when she smacked his shoulder only to sober as he met her eyes.
"Are you okay?" he asked softly, gently taking her upper arms and giving them a reassuring squeeze.
"Yes," she replied without hesitation. Phil had angered her, certainly, but he hadn't surprised her . . . and she'd had an extra layer of protection that had resulted in an unexpected but very welcome outcome.
"Even with that bullshit about marriage counseling?" he carefully pressed, making Jayne snort with no little sarcasm.
"Oh, yeah," she assured him. "He texted me, so all I have to do is send it to Rex and he'll put it with the rest of the evidence we have about him ignoring the divorce papers."
"Okay," he said after a minute, nodding slowly. "Then if you're up to it, I'm gonna order pizza, and you can stomp all over me at Gin Rummy."
Ooh, that did sound tempting.
"Veggie with ranch?" she checked, knowing full well his penchant for pepperoni and pineapple. Not to mention trying to slip chicken onto hers when he thought she wasn't looking.
"One of each," he replied, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "Breadsticks?"
She gave it only a few seconds of thought before deciding to indulge herself. She wasn't due to start serious training for another five weeks, and her favorite pizza place made the most amazing stuffed garlic bread.
"Done!" she proclaimed, catching his hands in hers and squeezing them in thanks, both for his protection of her and his easy, undemanding acceptance. "I'm going to take a quick shower."
"I'll get some confetti," he said drolly, and she stuck her tongue out at him. He was wonderful, she admitted to herself, thankful yet again that ITV had chosen to hire him. And maybe, after everything was done and finalized and she was free . . .
Maybe. It was definitely something she would consider, if and when the time came.
But as she headed for the bathroom, she couldn't help missing Chris.
And wondering why she felt so guilty.
August 20, 2012
"Did you really hit Phil?"
Nick paused mid-step at this, since Chris hadn't even said 'hello'. After being the one to initiate the call.
"Ah," he said after a few seconds of trying to figure out whether he needed to be amused or concerned (for his own safety; Chris took his role as Jayne's personal guard very seriously). "So Jayne—"
"Oh, yeah," Chris confirmed dryly. "Loudly. With great emphasis. And a surprising amount of glee."
He didn't continue this thought and Nick grimaced. Lovely. That meant Jayne had told her partner exactly enough to pique his interest but nothing else, leaving him hanging on the edge of the proverbial cliff. Unfortunately, since that was a requirement of life for them until this entire miserable situation was resolved and she was well and truly divorced from that bastard, he couldn't be all that annoyed about it.
Though, really, if she was gonna drop him in it like that, a head's up was only the polite thing to do.
"Let's just say he's learned to put a leash on his tongue," he said after considering his wording. "I don't give a damn what he thinks or says about me, but—" He cut himself off when he heard the other man take a sharp breath, only to immediately barrel over what Chris was about to say and cursing himself for not paying attention to what he was saying — "and no, I am not going to tell you. It'll just piss you off and since you aren't here, quite frankly, that's a headache nobody needs."
There was a very long minute of silence at this.
"You know, you're a giant pain in the ass," Chris finally said, sounding much too accepting of this fact and making Nick swallow.
"Yeah, well, everyone needs a hobby," he replied, aiming for insouciance. And, amazingly, he succeeded, because Chris laughed.
"Okay, I'll leave the 'why' alone," he agreed with no discernable resentment in his voice. "But please tell me it was amazing."
Now it was Nick's turn to laugh and he did, chortling for a solid minute. "Oh, yes," he finally managed to answer, remembering yet again the savage satisfaction he'd taken in shoving that prick's words down his throat — or, rather, into his stomach. "It was awesome. He actually looked surprised."
"As compared to?" came the bone-dry riposte that made him snort so hard his eyes crossed.
"Fair point," he replied once he could see again. "But it does make me wonder. I mean, the man isn't stupid, for all he's a moron, so—"
"Yeah, don't even try to make sense of that," Chris cut him off. "I've been trying for almost five months and twenty years and have nothing to show for it but grey hairs. And a serious rage complex."
Nick started to make a smart-ass response to this, but sanity prevailed when he heard the honesty behind the humor, though it took some effort to turn his amused snort into a believable cough.
"How is she?" Chris suddenly asked, all amusement evaporating. "Really? I know what she's telling me and she's not lying, but . . ."
"Yeah," Nick murmured in agreement, hating their lives for them. He couldn't even begin to imagine how difficult it must be to be forcibly separated from the person you've been with for almost your entire life, your partner, because the otherperson you chose to spend your life with turned out to be not just a raging asshole, but one who seemed to have lost all sense of reality. But he knew from the time he'd spent with Jayne that this separation from her partner was taking a seriously detrimental toll on her. And where Jayne went, Chris was at her side, so Nick listened very, very closely and heard the heartache so well-hidden behind the determined joviality.
He was hurting for both of them, wishing desperately that he could trade places with Chris, but he also had an added dimension that had genuinely caught him off-guard.
He had become increasingly aware that his unexpected interest in Jayne was not going away, but he was also very aware of the fact that, should a miracle happen and she returned — or was at least amenable to — his affections, Christopher Dean was her partner and her best friend, and therefore would have top billing in any relationship she was in. And Nick was fairly sure he'd be okay with that. The question was how Chris would feel about it.
Nick was uncomfortably cognizant of the reality that any romantic partner Jayne might think about considering would be under a level of scrutiny MI6 would be envious of. And yes, he understood perfectly well why that was the case, but that didn't mean he was looking forward to it.
Especially because, since the first night she'd called him instead of Chris, only to say not a word about why, he had found himself wondering if maybe . . . only to shake his head at his own foolishness. No. Even if Jayne and Chris were in love with each other, they were choosing not to do anything with it, and it wasn't his — or anyone else's — place to speculate. And given their firm denial of that very thing for . . . well, ever . . . he strongly suspected that his own nerves were causing him to fall prey to the 'forbidden romance' aspect of it. A sort of shield, as it were.
Which was strange, actually, since he knew that a single 'no' from Chris would be enough for Jayne to step back, at least for the foreseeable future. Again, he understood and wouldn't blame either of them, but knowing that Christopher Dean had a very strong say in his potential future romantic prospects?
Becoming a monk in Nepal suddenly sounded more than a little appealing.
Still, it never occurred to him to lie to Chris, or sugarcoat things. Because the honest truth was that they might not be massively sympathetic about physical injury to each other (unless it was caused by someone else and then it was shame on your ass, or so people who'd known the pair back in the day had told him), but the nebulous limbo that was 'emotional health' was apparently driving him to drink. And Nick thought he understood; Chris' imagination was such that not knowing what was really going in Jayne's head had him conjuring up the worst possible scenarios, and being several thousand miles away was only making it that much worse.
So he took a deep breath and told the man what he wanted — and needed — to know. He wasn't a complete moron and had learned from his earlier faux pas, so he took very careful note of how he said things, but Chris deserved more than surface reassurances, at least in this. And Jayne, when this insanity had finally ended, would appreciate her partner being 'in the know'; it would save her a great deal of trouble if she didn't have to explain everything from scratch.
Once she got over being mad at them, anyway. But that bridge was quite a ways off, so neither man felt the need to worry about it yet.
"She's . . . doing better with the divorce," Nick began slowly, pushing his sunglasses on top of his head so he could better see the parking lot; Jayne had gone to the gym to vent some of her pent-up frustration, despite it not being her usual day, and he was waiting for Phil, who had made it a habit to turn up on Mondays (another reason she had hit the gym; she just could not deal with him today, according to her short, pithy text message). He had a question to ask. And an answer to record. Only, he didn't want Jayne anywhere near them when he sprang this particular trap.
Chris, on the other hand, would understand if it became necessary to hang up on him. Still, he needed to be cautious with how much information he gave out. It was an infuriatingly thin line to walk. So, mentally girding himself, he proceeded to tiptoe through a verbal minefield he'd never gotten a map of and prayed that he wouldn't accidentally blow them all to hell. "Phil himself, though, is . . . dealing with him is — I don't know, Chris," he admitted softly. "I've never seen her like this. She's . . . she seems fine until she hears from the lawyer, and then she's this weird combination of pleased and despondent."
"Yeah, I remember that," the other man said quietly, and Nick swallowed. It was too easy to forget that Chris had been there and done that himself. Which made him the logical person for Jayne to talk to, and couldn't because of her bastard husband.
Oh. OH. Well. Okay.
Her despondent rage suddenly made a lot more sense.
"When she has to deal with . . . with him," he continued, his voice somber from this new understanding, "it's a different kind of weird. He acts so childishly that she treats him like she does her son, just — just more. But they're only in the same room for maybe ten minutes at a stretch because on top of being a brat, he's still refusing to accept that this divorce is happening, which just stresses her out even more, and then she has to throw him out before she lets me do something she might or might not regret. But that upsets her even more after she's calmed down, because that's another wasted chance to get him to talk about this damned divorce."
"Mm."
This was all he got and it made Nick very nervous. He strongly suspected that little, if any, of this was a surprise to Chris, but hearing it and not being able to do a damn thing about it had to suck.
Well, that was the stupidest thought he'd had all year.
Moving on.
"So she's — well, to be frank, she's miserable," he said a little more bluntly than he probably should have. But he was caught between a rock, a hard place, and a boulder, and he was edgy too. The fact that he was trapped there because he'd put himself there did not make it better, and he had no intention of leaving either of them to shoulder this alone, but it was definitely an awkward place to be.
Thank God he had at least a little good news.
"On the bright side," he said aloud, having come in on the tail-end of a conversation between Jayne and her attorney a few days earlier, "she's gotten six or seven recordings of Phil flat-out refusing to acknowledge that she's filed for divorce and keeps trying to discuss it with him and work out terms. According to Tennant, that will speed things up, because there isn't going to be any negotiating. And that means, barring the unlikely occurrence of the jerk suddenly rejoining the world the rest of us are living in, a court appearance is very likely to be scheduled within the month. And once that happens, it's over."
Deep, steady breaths were his only response and Nick swallowed but took the hint and didn't say another word.
"Okay," Jayne's partner finally said, his voice frighteningly even, before going quiet again. "Okay. T—if s—when that happens — court, I mean," he continued after more than a minute, now sounding uncharacteristically nervous. "If she w—if . . . will you let me know?"
It took Nick no time to decipher that and he mentally cursed. On the surface, this was a perfectly reasonable request.
But he knew Jayne. And Chris knew her infinitely better.
So if she didn't ask her partner to be with her that day, it was because she, for whatever reason, didn't want him there.
And no one had the right to ignore her wishes, regardless of their opinion on the matter.
Not even Chris.
Ah, bloody hell.
Being caught between a rock and a hard place was seriously a bitch, even without the boulder. Still, he knew Chris would understand. It was going to piss him off, of course, and Nick was doubtless in for a lot of yelling over the next few weeks, but he could live with that. He was pretty sure Jayne wouldn't want him there, either, which he knew he wouldn't be okay with, so he had at least some small idea of how Chris was feeling.
"No," he replied quietly, holding the phone away from his ear just in case. "I'm sorry, Chris, but if she doesn't tell you, it's not my place. I'm sorry," he said again when ominous silence was his only response.
"I know," the other man finally said in a subdued voice, and Nick took an unsteady breath. "I shouldn't have asked you; I'm sorry," he added, sounding miserable now, and Nick took another shaky breath. He didn't think he'd ever heard Christopher Dean sound so . . . so . . . unsure . . . and he didn't like it. For the umpteenth time, he cursed Phil Christensen to a level of hell Dante's worst nightmare could never conceive. But before he could try to offer any comforting words, a familiar car pulled in the parking garage entrance.
Speak of the devil . . .
"I'm sorry, Chris, I need to go," he said quickly, watching with narrowed eyes as Phil ignored three closer spaces to park as near to Jayne's assigned spot as he could. "I have a question I need to ask Phil, but I'm not doing it in front of Jayne, so it's now o—"
"No problem," Chris replied instantly. "I'll text you later; good luck. And tell Jayne I said 'skate well'."
He hung up while Nick was still trying to puzzle that out, but he figured it was one of their inside jokes and anyway, Phil had gotten out of his car and was making his way to the lift. With a deep breath to keep his temper in check, Nick moved to intercept him, pressing the 'record' button on the small device tucked into the top of his jeans pocket.
"Afternoon," he greeted Jayne's estranged husband in a fairly even voice, getting a glare in response.
"Why are you here?" Phil demanded with no preamble at manners or even politeness, and Nick raised both eyebrows at him.
"I want to know the real reason you stayed with her for twenty years. Jealousy can't have been all of it," he replied calmly, though the hand in his jacket pocket clenched into a fist. This was risky, he knew, with a good chance of blowing up in his face. But if he could get whatever absurd reason the man had on a recording, it could potentially do a great deal to expedite the process . . . particularly if a judge listened to it. So he took another deep breath, exhorting himself to stay calm — at least until he got what he needed — and looked expectantly at Phil.
He endured the narrow-eyed, suspicious look more easily than he would have thought, but Phil saw no malice behind his words — because there wasn't any; Nick genuinely wanted to know. He just . . . wanted to know for reasons unrelated to his personal edification. And thankfully for everyone concerned, Phil wanted to gloat.
"Well, partly to make Dean suffer. Bastard treated her like dirt for years, then had the gall to be upset when she got tired of it and decided to show him how she wanted to be treated," he almost snarled, which had Nick lifting his brows again, this time in surprise. "But mostly because she was taking the entire world by storm," he added, suddenly sounding fondly reminiscing. Nick didn't know why, but it made his skin crawl. "Even people who couldn't spell ice skating knew who she was and I wanted that. She looked good on my arm and I got to be part of something on the world stage and take her way from him. And once we got them on different continents, all she had was me. It was win-win."
That . . . that was . . . he hadn't . . . no, Nick was hearing things. He had to be. There was no way that the man had just said he — no. No, he couldn't pos—
"And now that I've satisfied your prurient curiosity, I'd like to speak to my wife," Phil said insolently, shoving past the younger man without so much as a pretense of trying to avoid jostling him, and jabbing the elevator call button.
Nick, who was currently seeing multiple shades of red as he processed this information, nearly snapped his neck on the spot. It was only the unwelcome reminder of his promise to Jayne that stayed his hand . . . and he took an inordinately vicious amount of joy in telling the sorry son of a bitch that she was gone and not due back for two days.
That was a lie, but Phil didn't need to know that. And frankly, Nick needed to keep them both away from Jayne until he'd had a chance to really assimilate what he'd just been told and get his anger under control, but the only way to do that was by making sure that Phil had no reason to come by, especially since he was still ignoring reality.
So . . . white lie.
He was pretty sure that God would understand.
Jayne . . . if God understood, she'd never find out.
He desperately hoped that God did understand. And approve.
"What?!" Phil snapped, looking and sounding affronted at this news, and Nick had to take an actual step back to keep from punching him. Okay, he needed to go; he was too furious now to keep his temper any longer — but the dickweed needed to leave first, because like hell Nick was going to leave him here to try getting into Jayne's home, or (with his luck) run into her when she came back. So he sucked in a harsh breath and took a long drink from his water bottle to keep from doing something that would land him in prison, at least until the jackass left and it was safe to unleash his feelings.
"She's gone," he repeated slowly, mockingly, making damn sure the man knew he was being insulted. "As in 'not here' and not going to be here. So please leave, since there's not any reason for you to be here."
For a second, he thought the other man was going to hit him and he welcomed it with an eagerness that didn't surprise him at all. Sadly, Phil got himself under control and sneered, looking so much like a petulant teenager that Nick almost did a double-take. He refrained from sheer force of will and suddenly felt very drained. Between Chris and Phil, he was exhausted . . . and he still had to make a quick stop at Rex Tennant's office. The reminder had him slipping his hand in his pocket so he could stop recording; he had what he needed.
And then Phil spoke again.
"Fine," he huffed, looking very put-upon. "Let her throw her tantrum because she isn't getting enough attention, though how that's possible between you, Dean, and me, I do not understand."
Nick took three steps forward before he was able to stop himself and there was no holding back the growl that rose in his throat, even as he finally hit the 'stop' button; no one else needed to hear what he was about to say.
Or rather, threaten. And promise.
"Get the fuck out of here," he snarled, shoving his face in the other man's and enjoying the resultant flinch. "And if you come here again before she's ready to see you, I will break every bone in your body. Do you understand?" he demanded in a low, harsh voice that told even a man as self-absorbed as Phil that he was deadly serious.
So despite being furious at Jayne's absence, he nodded. He'd already pushed this man too far once and despite his resentment, he wasn't foolish enough to deliberately do it again. Nicholas du Lac had no compunction about resorting to violence if he deemed it necessary, and Phil had seen for himself that Jayne wouldn't object, much less stop him. And since she wasn't here, the man really had no reason to hold back.
Without another word, he gave Nick a ferocious scowl and turned away, stalking back to his car and getting more indignant with each step, especially when he realized he would have to wait until Jayne came back from — where the hell had she gone and without the courtesy of asking him if he minded? — before he could properly vent it.
He was acutely aware of the glare following him, ensuring that he did actually leave, and it unnerved him even more than it annoyed him. He didn't know who this puppy was, other than someone Jayne worked with sometimes, but she had apparently inveigled him into becoming her bodyguard — but not her bedmate. Despite his jeering words, he knew she was too enamored with Christopher Dean for that.
It would have surprised very few people who knew both Jayne and Phil that the reasons for both Nick's presence and her acceptance of it — as well the implications behind them — utterly escaped Phil Christensen.
He didn't realize that, by his own words, he had just damned himself. Freely, completely lacking coercion . . . and without an ounce of shame or even remorse.
He would never know that the death sentence on his marriage was carried out by his own hand.
