Author's Note: Decided to put up the second chapter before November starts. After this, I'll probably upload a chapter every weekend. Feedback very much appreciated!
Part Two
IV.
The next day, Gretchen stopped by the B&B to see Joey. The look on her face was anything but friendly. "Are you still planning on having the baby?" she asked without preamble.
"Yes."
"Then you've got to tell him, Joey."
"Why? So he can have another reason to feel trapped with me?"
"You know he didn't mean half the things he said. He was hurt, seeing you and Dawson together like that." Gretchen swallowed and looked away. "We both were."
"That doesn't excuse the things he said to me."
"So this is how you're punishing him, by not letting him know he's going to be a father? How incredibly immature of you."
"I'm not punishing him. I just don't feel like having the conversation yet, all right?"
"If you don't tell him, Joey, I will."
Joey sneered at a defiant Gretchen. "Because spilling my secrets is what you do best, isn't it, Gretchen?"
"He's my brother! You can't expect me to lie to him for you."
"I expect you to respect the confidence I made in you as the friend you claim to be. I expect you, of all people, to understand my reluctance to bring a baby into a relationship that's falling apart. You never told your boyfriend about your pregnancy."
"Yeah, I also didn't have the baby. And not to digress too far from the subject at hand, but my boyfriend was an unregenerate asshole. Pacey has his flaws, I'll admit, and he went way over the line with you last night, but he is, at the heart of him, a great guy. And you know that. He deserves to know he's going to be a dad."
"Weren't you the one telling me Pacey can't handle anymore pressure? He certainly proved that last night. I'm not going to keep him trapped, feeling like nothing. No kid deserves to grow up in the middle of that."
"So you've decided you're not going to tell him at all. How exactly do you plan to pull that off when you've both lived in the same small town your entire lives? Even if you head off to Boston, there's holidays and trips home. Do you really believe my brother is so dim he won't notice?"
"I haven't decided anything beyond the fact that it's not your business and not your right to tell Pacey. When, and if, I decide Pacey's ready for it, I will be the one to tell him."
Gretchen pinched the bridge of her nose. She looked like she hadn't slept at all the night before. Join the club, Joey thought bitterly.
"Fine, Joey. You're right. It's your baby and your life. I'm just glad I'm out of here, so I don't have to see you wreck one of the best men I know. And that's not a sister's bias speaking."
Joey was going to ask Gretchen what she meant about being "out of here," but Gretchen left without waiting for another word. When Joey learned later from Dawson that Gretchen was taking a road trip before returning to school, she felt only relief.
III.
Joey had known the end was coming, but she wasn't prepared for the aftermath, for how the day to day tenor of life felt slightly off-kilter.
On Monday morning, she waited so long for Pacey to pick her up that when she finally realized she needed to drive herself, she was late to school. At lunch, she picked the tomatoes out of her salad and set them to the side, before remembering he wasn't going to eat them for her. He wasn't even there. Her shoulder ached at the end of the day, because Pacey hadn't carried her bookbag between classes.
She felt empty, as though someone had inserted another suction tube inside her, only this time they'd siphoned away her heart.
Don't worry, Miss Potter, said the Dr. Wharton in her head. It's a quick and painless procedure. You might experience some minor discomfort, but in the end, you won't feel a thing.
I.
She didn't second-guess herself through three straight day of morning sickness, or during her first prenatal exam, or even while writing her graduation speech and having a sudden vision of hurling in front of the entire town.
Her first doubt came when Mr. Kubelik told her the dean wanted to talk to Pacey at the next Worthington party. She drove straight to Pacey's after work and stumbled her way through an explanation.
When she finished, Pacey shrugged. "So?"
"So what if they want to offer you a place at Worthington? They really liked you last time you met."
"No, they really liked that guy I pretended to be. I don't have the grades for Worthington, Jo, and even if I did, I don't have the money."
"If it weren't for the baby—"
"I wouldn't trade our baby for admission to every Ivy League school in the country. Besides," he added, tickling her side, "One over-educated individual in our family will be more than enough."
He made her laugh too hard to appreciate the thought of our family the way she wanted to.
The dean didn't offer Pacey a place at Worthington. He offered him a job on a boat.
"I turned him down," Pacey told her on the drive home.
"Turned him down? But, Pace, it was three months sailing the Caribbean!" It sounded like Pacey's view of heaven.
"Exactly. Three months a thousand miles away from you and the baby. The pay isn't enough to make our money worries go away, and nothing else could have tempted me. I'll start looking for jobs in Boston after graduation. Dougie has a friend there he thinks will give me a shot."
Pacey was following through on his promise to stay. Joey hugged him tight and cried. This time, she was pretty sure it was the hormones.
II.
"I think I'm going to take the job."
"What?"
They were driving home from the Worthington party. Joey had been lost in happy contemplation over how much more she'd felt like she fit in than last time, when Pacey's soft-spoken declaration turned her world off its axis.
"The dean's job offer. I'm going to accept."
Joey blinked back tears he couldn't see in the dark. "But why?"
"Why would I rather spend my summer sailing the Caribbean than bagging groceries or flipping burgers? Hmm, Potter, let me think."
"I know it's an amazing opportunity, but it's going to be our last summer all together before—"
"Before you and Dawson and the rest wipe this grubby, little town off your sandals and head off into the big, wide world, while I stay here, flipping burgers and bagging groceries."
"I thought you were coming to Boston with me. You promised—"
Pacey banged his hand against the steering wheel. "I know what I promised, but I can't do it, Jo. I can't spend my whole life as the schmuck tagging along to your brilliance."
"So you're breaking up with me."
"Why is that always your first thought? This has nothing to do with us. This is about me. Something good happened to me tonight for the first time in a long time. It complicates things for us, sure, but can't you be a little happy for me?"
Happy that he couldn't wait to leave her? Joey turned her face to the door and declined to answer.
Pacey sighed, but didn't press the point. He drove in silence until they reached the creek turnoff. "Do you want me to take you home?"
The plan had been for Joey to spend the night at the beach house, but she was almost angry enough to change her mind. Only the thought that Pacey would be glad to be rid of her made her say, "No." It emerged through a clenched jaw and gritted teeth.
When they pulled up to Pacey's place, Joey hopped out without waiting for Pacey to open her door. She stomped up the pathway. She could hear Pacey's footsteps hurrying after her. He caught her arm as they entered the glow of the porch light and turned her into him.
"Look, Joey, I love how brilliant you are. You're this shining light, and you're destined to live an extraordinary life. And I am grateful—so grateful—for every, single day of it you choose to spend with me. But watching you excel can't be all my life is about. I'll end up hating myself and resenting you, and that is the worst possible future I can imagine."
Pacey sighed and took her hands, bringing them to his chest. "All that said, I love you more than anything in this world, and if you tell me to stay, I'll stay."
Ask Me To Stay, he had written once, in giant, imperfect letters. To prove her love, she'd done better and gone with him. She couldn't do that this time, and if she really loved him, she had to let him go.
Joey couldn't bring the words to her lips. She pulled her hands free and took a step back. "Let's go inside, Pace."
Pacey's shoulders slumped, but he unlocked the door and ushered her through. They moved through the house in silent ritual. Joey flipped on the lights; Pacey threw his keys on the counter. She hung up her coat and toed off her heels.
Pacey went to his bedroom. By the time Joey followed, he was pulling off his shirt, and there was a t-shirt on the bed waiting for her. Usually, she would have changed in the room with him. Tonight, she grabbed the shirt and headed to the bathroom.
Joey had a toothbrush by the sink, a hairbrush in the drawer, tampons under the vanity. Stupid little touches of domesticity that she would miss every day he was gone. She changed her clothes, brushed her teeth, and stared at herself in the mirror for a long time.
When she emerged, Pacey was already in bed, hands under his pillow, face to the wall, back to her. Joey studied the line of his spine, the indents between his shoulder blades.
"Just the one trip?"
"Yes."
"And then you'll come back to me?"
Pacey sat up, held out a hand to her. "I swear, Jo."
Joey sat on the bed, cross-legged, and took his strong hand in both of hers. "Okay, rules. Number one—and this is huge—we are not broken up. You meet some island princess and decide you want out, you damn well better tell me before you so much as hold her hand."
Pacey's blue eyes sparkled with amusement. "I think tribal chieftains went out when the tourists came in, but I take your point. I don't want to break up, and I'll never want another woman the way I want you." He reached for her with his free hand, but Joey ducked away.
"Rule number two: anytime you're in port, you call me."
"What's your number again?"
Joey swatted at him. Pacey caught her hand and used their momentum to push her onto the mattress, his body covering hers.
"Rule number three: come home. Whatever happens, you come home."
"I will. I promise." Pacey painted the words on her lips.
III.
The Worthington party had seemed like a second chance at life. But it all went nowhere. Pacey was offered a job in the Caribbean; Joey was headed to Boston. Pacey still loved her, but they couldn't be together.
Begging him to hold her for the night wasn't Joey trying to change that. She just needed to feel his touch again, craved it like an addict in withdrawal. One more time, she bargained with herself. One more time, and I'll be okay. I won't feel so cold and empty inside.
Pacey laid out a t-shirt and boxers for her. He grabbed sweatpants and a wife-beater for himself. They changed in silence. Joey's whole life had become silence, all the things she couldn't—wouldn't—say.
Pacey lay down on his back and watched her as she got into bed beside him. "Night, Jo."
"Night, Pacey." She turned on her side, away from him, as he turned off the light. She thought he would put his arm around her, like he always did, but Pacey didn't move.
Joey could hear him breathing on the other side of the bed. It reminded her of the first night, at Gwen's cabin, when every cell in her body had tingled with an awareness of him, while her mind screamed, Do Not Touch.
She felt neither of those things tonight, only a gnawing emptiness behind and around and inside of her where he should be. Unwilling to bear it any longer, she felt for his hands in the darkness and found them crossed over his chest.
"Pacey, come here," she insisted, tugging his arm over her, feeling his body roll after it.
Joey closed her eyes and breathed. She could feel his warmth at her back, the pressure of his arm against her ribs, the splay of his hand beneath her breast, where her heart beat—it's still there, she marveled, it still beats. Pacey's exhalations tickled the back of her neck; his smell invaded her nostrils. For the first time in weeks, she thought she might sleep through the night.
Then she felt the brush of his lips against her neck. Her body became a live wire.
Pacey kissed her throat, her ear, the line of her jaw. His fingers brushed the outline of her breasts, the hem of her shorts. "Joey," he whispered, a plea she couldn't ignore.
She turned into his arms. Her mouth sought his, open, starving. Her hands roamed his arms, his chest, his unruly hair. They settled on his ass, urging him closer, always closer. Close enough he'd never leave.
Pacey kept repeating her name between heated kisses. It took a moment for her to realize he was trying to tell her something. "I need to grab protection, Jo."
Joey flinched, all her ardor wiped away in a moment. She could see again the stick with two lines, the room with the dentist's tools and the woman on the boat. "We can't do this, Pacey." She disentangled herself from him. It hadn't been the required cycle yet for her pills to take effect, and she no longer trusted condoms.
Nodding, Pacey rolled away from her. "You're right. I'm sorry." He was back where he'd begun, lying on his back, hands folded on his chest.
Joey wanted to tell him not to be sorry, that he'd misunderstood, she only meant not yet, but the words froze on her tongue. To explain that, she'd have to explain about the pills, and the white room, and the stick. She'd made the decision to keep this burden from him, and she wouldn't undo it now.
"I'm sorry, too, Pace," she whispered.
Joey laid awake for hours, until she was absolutely certain he was asleep. Then she wrapped her arms around his waist and put her head upon Pacey's chest. She listened to his heartbeat and felt him breathe.
I.
Dawson stopped by her house after school the next day. It was the first time he'd done so since she'd decided to keep the baby, so naturally she felt guilty at the very sight of him.
They hadn't made an official announcement yet, had decided to wait until after graduation to avoid as much gossip as they could. But Joey was now past her first trimester, and both Doug and Bodie had been let into the secret, so she could tell Dawson if she wanted to.
She hadn't made up her mind about that yet.
"Hey, Dawson, what's up?" she asked, pushing those thoughts to the side.
Dawson got the rueful, befuddled look that always presaged some revelation about girl trouble. "A lot, actually. Mind if I come in and talk to you about it?"
"Of course not. I'd love a break from practicing this stupid speech. What cruel sadist decided academic achievement and public speaking have to go hand-in-hand?" She led a chuckling Dawson to the kitchen where she grabbed him a soda and poured herself some milk.
"Probably the same ones who arbitrarily decided eighteen was the age at which we were capable of planning the direction of our entire lives."
"Ah," Joey said wisely.
"'Ah' what?"
"Ah, now I know what you need to talk to me about. Something has come up which has thrown your life plan out of whack. Luckily for you, that's something about which I have become expert these past few years, so lay it on me."
Dawson smiled fondly at her. "I knew coming here was the right idea. You always make me feel better, Joey. How do you do that?"
The way he was looking at her was a little too close to adoration, so Joey turned away, rummaging for snacks. "Practice, I guess. Going to tell me the problem? Because my superpowers don't extend to mind-reading."
"Gretchen wants me to go road-tripping with her this summer."
"Oh." Joey's heart leapt. Wonderful, wonderful Gretchen was going to take Dawson away for three months, so she wouldn't have to feel bad every time she looked at him, or have to spend her summer refereeing fights between him and Pacey. Her relief was so palpable that she felt guilty for it. Dawson was her best friend; she didn't actually want to be rid of him their last summer at home. "That sounds fun," she said cautiously.
"Yeah, it does. But at the end of it, she goes to Boston, and I go to California, and then what will I have left? Not to mention, I'll have missed my only chance to spend time with my baby sister and what may be my last chance to spend time with you."
"Don't say that, Dawson. We're lifelong friends; that's not going to disappear just because we live on different coasts for a few years."
"Maybe not, but I keep thinking, three times unlucky."
"Huh? You lost me."
"Two summers ago, I was in Philadelphia. Last summer, you were sailing with Pacey. What if we miss this summer, and that's it—your life goes one way, mine another?"
Joey felt a pang of loss. That was exactly what was going to happen, whether Dawson stayed for the summer or not. Granted, they weren't as close anymore as they used to be, but she could never forget all he had been to her. She once thought he could be her whole life; now, she'd be happy if he was willing to stay in it at all.
"I can't be part of your decision on this one, Dawson," she told him sadly.
"Oh, don't you start this now!"
"Start what?"
"Gretchen has this ridiculous notion that the reason I won't go is I'm still in love with you."
Joey wanted to throw up. For the first time in months, it had nothing to do with morning sickness. "But you're not, right?"
"Well, obviously, a part of me will always be in love with you, just like part of you will always be in love with me. But that doesn't mean that I don't love Gretchen, or, or that I'm incapable of having a life with someone else."
She had to tell him the truth. She owed it to Pacey, to herself, and, weirdly, most of all, to Dawson. "Dawson, you're my best friend in the whole world, and you're one hundred percent right if you believe that I will love you until the day I die, because I will. As a friend. But I'm not in love with you. I haven't been for a long time, if I ever was, and I won't be again. I'm sorry if that hurts you, but you need to understand and accept that because...because Pacey and I are going to have a baby."
Joey had seen photographs of people surveying the wreckage a tornado had left of their homes. Dawson's face after her confession reminded her of nothing so much as those pictures.
"A, a baby?"
Joey nodded, biting her lip, hating herself for what she had said.
"You're...you're sure?"
"Yes," she whispered. She didn't mean to whisper; her throat was dry as dirt.
"How long?"
Joey forced herself to swallow before she could speak. "Just over three months."
Dawson's face was ashen. She wanted to ask if he needed to lie down, but didn't think the question from her right now would make it any better. "So you've known for a while."
As though on strings, Joey jerked her head up and down.
"And you're definitely keeping it?"
Again, Joey nodded. She wanted to say something, but couldn't find the words, so she let Dawson struggle through his halting cross-examination.
"And Worthington?"
"I'm still going to Worthington."
"Are you sure, Joey? Because balancing school and a baby alone will be incredibly difficult."
"I won't be alone. Pacey will be there."
"Pacey? Pacey's lucky to find a pair of matching socks in the morning! There is no way he's mature or responsible enough to raise a baby!"
In that moment, Joey saw in Dawson all the things Pacey had warned her about. The sneering judgment and self-righteousness, the sense of entitlement, and a twisted jealousy. "I need you to leave now, Dawson."
"I'm sorry, Joey, but you know it's true. If he graduates at all, it will be by the skin of his teeth. How can he possibly support himself, let alone you and a baby?"
"I said, leave." Since he didn't take the hint, Joey marched to the front door and threw it open.
In a last, desperate gamble, Dawson grabbed both her arms and begged, "Come with me, Joey. To California. I don't have to go to film school. I can get a job, best boy or assistant director or something. I'll take care of you and the baby. I won't care that it's his, and I'll never even mention—" Seeing the stoniness of her expression, Dawson began to weep—ugly, large, self-pitying tears. "God, Joey! How could you do this to me?"
"I didn't do anything to you, Dawson. I can't help it if you think I did. Now, please, go. You're making this worse for both of us."
"Joey—"
A strong hand came between them and started drawing Dawson out the door. "Joey asked you to leave," Bodie said, kindly but firmly. "I suggest you listen." He maneuvered Dawson out the door, shut and locked it behind him.
"Thanks, Bodie." Joey sagged against the wall, drained as if she'd run a marathon.
"No problem. You all right?"
"Just tired. I think I'll take a bit of a nap." Numb, she went to her room, closed the door, lay down on her bed. She waited for the tears to come, but they never did. She had lost her oldest friend in a matter of minutes, and all she felt was empty. Empty.
She awoke to Pacey's soft voice and even softer touch, as he traced his fingers down her arm from shoulder to wrist. "Hey, Jo, you okay? Bessie saved supper for you."
In the blink of an eye, her fight with Dawson returned to her. "Pace, I—"
"I know, Jo. It's okay. Bodie told me. You all right?"
She nodded, not lifting her head from the pillow, savoring Pacey's soothing touch. She could almost feel warmth spreading from his fingers to that cold, barren place Dawson had left. "It was inevitable, I guess, that I would lose one of you, but I wish it hadn't ended like that."
"You won't lose him. Dawson will calm down and see sense, like he always does. He'll accept what he has to, to keep you in his life."
"Maybe. But I'm not sure my life has room for him in it, room for anyone who can't see what an incredible man you are."
Pacey's hand stilled, cupping her elbow. "You could find yourself cutting a lot of people out of your life that way. Despite what you think, I'm not worth much, Potter."
Joey levered herself up and into his arms. "No, not worth much," she agreed. "Worth everything."
IV.
"So how far along are you?" Jen asked nonchalantly, while Joey lost her lunch in the girls' restroom at school.
Joey flushed the toilet and made her way to the sink to clean up. "What are you talking about? I think it's food poisoning from the tuna surprise."
"Food poisoning doesn't last a solid month, and it doesn't do that to your rack." Jen gestured to Joey's rapidly expanding cup size, only partly hidden by her baggy sweater.
Joey glared at the petite blonde through the mirror but said nothing.
"So you do know. Good, I thought you might be in denial about it. Does Pacey know?"
"No, and you can't tell him, Jen."
"Why? If this is about the breakup—"
"He has finals this week. He needs to concentrate on them."
"And after that, you'll tell him, right?"
Joey declined to answer. She started walking to class. Jen followed her, even though her history class was the opposite direction from Joey's physics.
"Are you going to end it, Joey? Because I totally understand and support your right to do that, and it would explain your reluctance to tell Pacey, even though I think he'd stand by you, no matter your decision."
"I'm not having an abortion," Joey hissed. Her eyes darted along the hallways, searching for eavesdroppers.
"Then why won't you tell Pacey?"
Joey was tired of this question. In addition to her run-in with Gretchen, she'd had to fight it out with Bessie, who wanted her to tell Pacey so he could "man up" and "take his share of the responsibility."
"Because I'm a vindictive bitch, all right? That should come as no surprise to you of all people."
"Joey, that is not it. Why—"
"Look, I'm not interested in having a pity boyfriend or—God forbid—a pity husband. I can handle this on my own. Since you insist on being my friend, despite my doing everything possible to forestall it, I hope you'll respect my wishes and keep this to yourself."
Jen looked saddened and annoyingly sympathetic after Joey's outburst. "Of course, Joey. And please remember, you're not alone. I'm here for you." She hugged the taller girl then ran to make her own class before the bell rang.
Nothing that happened with Pacey over the next few days changed Joey's opinion on his need to know, not the Worthington party, not his rejecting her offer of friendship, not even his apology for his behavior at prom. She wasn't angry at him—at least not for long, not after seeing how terrible he felt—and she wasn't withholding the news out of a desire to punish him, whatever Gretchen thought.
Gretchen was right about one thing, however. Pacey was a great guy, the kind of guy who, when he found out he got a girl pregnant, would do the noble thing and stay with her. For the baby's sake.
Joey didn't want him on those terms. Either Pacey loved her and wanted to be with her for her own sake, or he was free to leave. She didn't need a martyr for a boyfriend.
She hadn't yet decided how to handle the situation once she started showing. Her best idea so far was to be blasé about the whole thing. Offer to let him have some time with the kid if he wanted, but put him under no obligations. Part of her wished he might believe the baby was someone else's, but Pacey knew her too well to think she'd sleep around.
She still loved the jerk too much to let him think it was Dawson's.
I.
Dawson didn't speak to either of them over the last few days of school. Jen got tired of playing peacemaker. Jack, unable to understand the sudden rift in the group, had to be let into the secret. He was sort of freaked out, but mostly supportive.
Pacey's graduation status was up in the air until his very last final. Joey paced the hallway until class let out, then pushed against the crowd to sit beside him and hold his hand while Mr. Kasdan graded it. Their palms were both sweaty with nerves and heat, but Joey didn't let go.
"Congratulations, Mr. Witter," Mr. Kasdan said with a smile. He handed back the test with a large A- in red ink across the front.
Pacey stared down at it in shock. "I did it? I did it!" With a shout, he grabbed Joey by the waist and swung her around.
Laughing, Joey filed this moment as her last memory of Capeside High.
II.
She helped him pack up his battered old dufflebag. "I can't believe you're missing graduation."
"It's either that or miss my boat."
"But you worked so hard for this, Pacey!"
"For the diploma, not the ceremony. Everyone who matters already knows I made it." He kissed the nape of her neck as he leaned over her to drop in a badly folded pile of shirts. "I'm sorry to miss your speech, though."
Joey scowled as she started refolding his laundry. "You've heard it three times already."
"Yeah, but not in the cap and gown. I bet that's a major turn-on." Pacey grabbed her hips and pulled her into his body.
"Pervert. You're crushing your shirts."
He took them from her and tossed them haphazardly back into the bag. "There. Packing's done." He claimed her mouth in a lingering kiss.
Joey reluctantly broke it. "There's still a lot to do, Pacey. You need new boat shoes, and we should look for some used books to take with you. You still have to say goodbye to your parents, and Bodie's making a going away dinner."
Pacey occupied himself during her little speech by trailing kisses along her jaw. When she was done, he pulled back just long enough to remind her, "Three months, Potter." His teeth found her earlobe and tugged.
Joey moaned. "I suppose a little break..." Her hands snaked their way under the hem of his shirt, while he divested her of hers. "...might help us..." Pacey dropped to his knees, his mouth tracing the curve of her belly, the angle of her hips while his busy fingers made quick work of her shorts. "...focus better." She dragged his mouth back up to hers.
"Funny, you never bought that argument when we were studying."
"Shut up, Witter." Joey pushed Pacey back on the bed and climbed on top of him.
"Now, this is what I call a going away party."
I.
Joey watched Pacey and Andie from inside the restaurant as they talked by the bonfire. It was strange, given how much Pacey had once loved her, how little Joey ever felt threatened by Andie. Or maybe not so strange. It was the trust that came with knowing how much Pacey loved her now.
The strongest emotion Joey felt towards Andie was pity, or maybe empathy. Not for her family problems; they all had those in spades. Not even for her mental health problems, which Andie had—as far as Joey could see—dealt with beautifully.
No, Joey pitied her for a much more prosaic reason. Andie once had Pacey, and then she lost him. Andie lived a life post-Pacey, a life where Pacey had ceased to love her. One could—and did—argue that Andie had no one but herself to blame for that, but still Joey pitied her, pitied her with a trace of, there but for the grace of God—and not sleeping with other boys—go I.
She watched them now and wondered if she would ever be content with that sort of sweet, nostalgic kindness from Pacey. If she ever lost him, would it be enough to stay in his orbit as a friend? Or would she rather he cursed her very memory, as some sort of proof of a lingering hold on him? She hoped she would never find out.
Pacey stood and held out a hand to help Andie to her feet. He was in high spirits tonight, graduation tomorrow, school finished—for him—forever. He threw his arm around Andie's shoulders and dragged her inside.
"Joey! Look who's back!" He beamed from his ex-girlfriend to his current girlfriend, and because he was Pacey, what could have been totally awkward wasn't uncomfortable at all.
"Andie, it's good to see you again." Joey hugged her. "How's Florence?"
"Beautiful. Magical. A dream. But it's nice to be home for a bit, too."
"A bit? Isn't Harvard next on the list?"
"Eventually. But I'm just not ready yet."
Joey nodded, wondering whether Andie's decision was about Florence, Harvard, or Pacey, but not rude enough to ask. "Well, you're very much missed here. Jen and I have always needed a buffer zone."
Andie laughed. "You seem to be doing all right. And don't think I've forgotten our pact! Five years from the day, Jen's non-birthday, the three of us, where are we now? Although you've already proven Jen's prediction wrong. Pacey told me about the baby." There was only the slightest faltering of her smile as she added, "Congratulations."
Joey thanked her, admiring her kindness. But she wouldn't trade places with Andie for a lifetime in Florence.
Talk moved on to other matters. Jack and Jen joined them. Eventually, even Dawson did, ostensibly to see Andie, but also to pretend not to see Joey and Pacey. Pacey squeezed her hand, but Joey shrugged and rolled her eyes.
"Do you realize this might be the last time we're all together?" asked a slightly tipsy Jen.
"We said that six months ago when Andie left," Jack pointed out. "And yet here we all are."
"And we're all going to be at that thing tomorrow with the caps and gowns," Dawson added.
"Oh, fine! You people have no appreciation for sentiment."
"Sediment? Isn't that the crap at the bottom of the creek?" Pacey joked, but he pulled Jen in for a sideways hug and kissed the top of her head.
"I was only trying to tell you jerks that you're the best friends I've ever had, and I love you all so much."
While Joey tried to speak past the lump in her throat, Jack relieved Pacey of Jen's tilting frame. "Okay. Bed for you, or you won't be sober enough to accept your diploma tomorrow. Night, all. Andie, you coming?"
"Just a sec, Jack." To Joey's surprise, Andie ran over and hugged her, but it made sense when she whispered in her ear, "Make him happy."
"I'll do my best," Joey promised.
Andie ran off with a wave to the boys. And somehow, someway, Joey was standing there between Pacey and Dawson. Again.
Pacey cleared his throat. "I'll get the car, Jo. You should talk to him."
"No, Pacey, I'll—"
"Pacey, wait," Dawson surprised them both by saying. He sighed and ran his hands through his hair. "I owe you both an apology. I thought I'd gotten past all this, when I'd only buried it. But listening to Jen...drunk as she may have been, she's right, you're my best friends. I wish I could say I'm happy for you, but until I can, I want to say I wish you both nothing but the best."
Pacey was the first one to react. He threw his arms around Dawson and pounded his back in one of their ridiculous man-hugs. "Thanks, man. I'm sorry, too, and I'd wish you the best, but you don't even need it. Someday, soon, we're all going to be saying we knew you when." Pacey stepped back, and they both looked expectantly at Joey.
She smiled at them, the two people in her life who truly knew her and always would. "You're forgiven," she told Dawson as she hugged him. "Of course, you're forgiven."
After they said their goodbyes, Joey walked back across the sand hand-in-hand with Pacey.
"Barnacle at a future time for your thoughts right now?" he asked.
"I was thinking that my life is a lot fuller than that scared, motherless little girl would ever believe. I have Bessie and Bodie and Alexander. I have Dawson and the Leerys, Jen and Jack and Andie. And soon, I'll have this baby." She tucked her arm through Pacey's and rested her head on his shoulder. "But mostly, I have you and the security of going to sleep every night knowing I am loved."
"That's a pretty big thought for a layaway barnacle," Pacey teased. But he pulled her hand to his lips and kissed it.
IV.
At the pre-graduation party, Pacey told her he needed to go off and live his own life for a bit. Joey had never felt so torn between relief and heartbreak. It would be much easier to keep her pregnancy from him if he wasn't around, but it meant the death of the last faint hope that he would come back to her, without the baby as lure.
"So hypothetically speaking, if I were lucky enough, one day, to find myself owning a sailboat again, and I were to ask the woman I love to go sailing with me, would she?"
Joey melted inside. There was still hope. Even now, there hovered between them a spark of possibility. "You wouldn't have to ask, Pace."
That was the last she saw of Pacey Witter for a very long time.
III.
"Pacey Witter," announced Principal Peskin.
Joey gasped. When she hadn't seen Pacey at graduation, she'd assumed he hadn't managed it, but...
"Pacey Witter?" the principal asked a second time, but when no tall, brash underachiever crossed the stage, he moved on to, "Sarah Wolsey."
Joey reminded herself to breathe. Pacey had done it. She was so proud of him, she wanted to tell him so, and...she'd probably never get that chance.
He'd known. Last night, Pacey had known he'd made it, and that he wasn't coming to graduation. All that stuff about hypothetical boats was his way of saying goodbye.
Panic bloomed like a thorny rose in Joey's chest. She didn't want to be here anymore. She didn't want to throw her cap, or pose for pictures, or force a smile.
That suction tube was after her heart again. She wanted to hide someplace alone and safe, somewhere she could hear the sea and dream about boats, past and future.
"Smile, Joey!" Bessie ordered.
Joey smiled.
I.
They graduated. Joey got through her speech, and Pacey crossed the stage, and they all got soaked from Drue's prank with the sprinklers.
Dawson took a road trip after all, a solitary one, to "find himself" on the way to a summer program at USC. Andie stayed a few weeks, mostly helping Jack pack, then flew back to Italy. Jen and Grams were busy preparing their house for sale, while looking for a place in Boston.
Pacey kept his word. Within forty-eight hours of graduation, he had his first job, a prep cook at a Boston restaurant, Civilization, owned by a friend of Doug's. Within a week, he was picking up extra work unloading fishing trawlers and freighters in Boston harbor. Within two weeks, he had a third job, working security at a marina.
Until Mrs. Ryan finalized on a house, he was sleeping in his car—the Witter Wagoneer, a gift from his father, when they told him about the baby—only returning to Capeside when he could string together a few days off in a row. He tried to arrange those times for Joey's doctor appointments, but he couldn't always manage it. The time he missed her ultrasound, he apologized for a solid hour.
In her head, Joey understood. They had talked about all this. She was working as many hours as she could at the yacht club before school started. They both knew there would be no point in her finding a job after that, until the baby was a few months old. Later, she would have to work, at least part-time.
So Joey understood. What was hard on them personally was necessary financially. But her heart and her hormones conspired to make her a nervous wreck most of the time. She missed Pacey, a constant ache. She worried he was pulling away again, that she would lose him, that he would decide this kind of life wasn't worth it, and she would end up alone—with a baby to raise—after all. And she was at the disturbing stage of her pregnancy where she craved sex nearly all the time, and Pacey wasn't there.
All of which meant that when Pacey actually was home—home at the moment a nebulous term for Pacey which translated into the Potter B&B, because Joey was there—she sought constant verbal and physical proof of his love for her.
Joey was afraid she was turning into a nag; she was afraid Pacey wouldn't desire her thickening body, while she had never wanted him more. And she was frustrated, trying to find time alone with him when they didn't have a place to call their own.
Through his exhaustion and overwork, Pacey somehow managed to decipher the root of her mood swings. He finagled a weekend off, borrowed Mr. McPhee's boat again, and took Joey sailing. He undressed her reverently, caressed every new or expanded curve of her body, told her she had never been more beautiful to him. Didn't stop proving it until she believed him.
The sailing trip helped, but when Jen told her the Boston house was settled, Joey wept for joy.
IV.
Her first contact with Pacey came about a week after he left. An ugly postcard of the Miami International Airport, with her address on the back, and only the cliched Wish you were here for a message. He didn't even sign it.
But the postcards kept coming all summer, sometimes not one for a couple of weeks, sometimes three or four in a day. The pictures featured were eclectic, from gorgeous beaches to tourist trap bars. The message was always the same.
It didn't take Joey long to figure out that the postcards were from the exact locations Pacey was at when he sent them. She wasn't sentimental enough to track his journey with pins and a world map. But she did save the postcards.
"I'm pregnant," she blurted out as Dawson's lips descended towards hers.
He jerked back as though she'd slapped him. "What!?"
"I'm pregnant." Joey felt the absurd urge to apologize to Dawson, but she resisted. This had nothing to do with him.
"That son of a bitch! How could he run off sailing while you—"
"Pacey doesn't know. I didn't tell him. And you may now consider yourself sworn to keep this from him, too."
Dawson frowned, running his hands back through his hair. "Why? You should tell him, Joey. I know I've said a lot of crap about him, but when if comes right down to it, Pacey will do the right thing."
"The right thing?" Joey snorted. "Get real, Dawson. This isn't 1953. I don't need a shotgun wedding to preserve me from the scandal. And luckily, we Potter women have been through this before, remember? My reputation as white trash was assured years ago."
"Joey, this is serious. Stop being so flippant!"
"Sorry, Dawson, I threw up all my serious today. I can offer you something in sarcastic, if you'd like."
"I should transfer to Boston Bay, so I can be here if you need me."
"That's sweet, Dawson, but no. Live your dream at USC. This isn't your problem."
"Joey, you're my best friend—and more than that. Your problems are always my problems. I want them to be."
Tears pricked Joey's eyes at Dawson's fervent words. But over the summer, as her dormant Dawson feelings began to stir, she'd done some thinking. A lot of thinking. And reached an inescapable conclusion. "This one can't be. Dawson, I don't know how to say this. I know, deep down, you've always hoped that you and I might someday be involved again."
"We're always involved, Joey."
"Romantically, I mean. And I won't lie and say I've never considered it. I have. Not as often as your ego might like, but more often than Pacey could accept." Joey shrugged off the end of her grand passion with a sad smile. "But this baby changes everything for me. I did Pacey a horrible wrong by not telling him about this baby, and I did it for totally selfish reasons. I wanted to be the reason he stayed. I still want that, and I won't undo what I've done because of it.
"But I can't be cruel enough to gut him by then letting you, of all people, help raise his child. It wouldn't be right, and it wouldn't be fair. To you, as much as anybody. Not when we'd both think of him every time we looked at the baby."
Dawson closed his eyes, sighed, and let go of the adolescent dream. "Can't I do anything to help, Joey?"
"You paid for my first year at Worthington. That's about as far away from nothing as I can imagine. Beyond that, you can be cool Uncle Dawson, who sends this kid more movie posters than it could possibly need to cover its walls with."
Dawson's mouth tipped in a rueful grin. "I love you, Joey."
"Love you, too, Dawson." Joey stepped out his bedroom window for the last time.
III.
Dawson kissed her. In the exact same spot, in the exact same way he'd kissed her the very first time (at least the first time that counted). It was a nice kiss. It certainly wasn't his fault Joey was empty inside. He didn't even know about the missing tissue where her heart should be.
"Night, Dawson," Joey said when he pulled away.
"Night, Joey." Dawson looked pained, but he'd live.
It might be cliché, but it was amazing, Joey thought as she climbed down the ladder, absolutely incredible, the things you could live through.
II.
The summer after graduation was an excruciatingly hot one. And long. And dull.
Joey continued to work at the yacht club. She continued to hate it. She counted the days between Pacey's phone calls and spent hours after them analyzing every word, every tone, trying to decide if he sounded happy, if that was a good thing.
In Pacey's absence, she threw herself into her friendship with Dawson. Jen and Jack would be in Boston come fall, but Joey's oldest friend would be clear across the country. She couldn't imagine what it would be like to not have his window to crawl through, Saturday movie nights, or his rose-colored way of looking at the world. Joey didn't even consider that Dawson might be misreading her nostalgic fondness.
Until he kissed her.
Shocked, Joey allowed the kiss for a few seconds before pushing him gently away. "What do you think you're doing?"
"I thought that was self-evident, Joey. I'm kissing you." He leaned in again, but Joey locked her arm against his chest, restoring her personal space.
"Did you hit your head on something hard today and forget that I have a boyfriend?"
"A boyfriend who left you, left the freaking country, and won't be coming back."
"That's not true!" Joey screamed, angry at Dawson for speaking her deepest fear. "Pacey will be back in the fall. He promised me."
"And Pacey never breaks his word, right? Except to me, and Miss Jacobs, and Andie. But I'm sure it's different with you. Because this time, it's 'true love.'" Dawson sneered.
Too angry and hurt for words, Joey shoved her friend away and turned to the window for escape.
Dawson stepped in her path. "You're mad because you know I'm right. What you and Pacey had might have been real, and it was clearly intense, but it's over now, Joey. What you and I have? That's something that will never die."
"You're right, Dawson. On its own, our connection, our friendship, will last forever. But you could kill it stone dead if you don't stop talking about Pacey right now. Whether you want to admit it or not, he's been part of our lives, part of this equation, for as long as we've known each other. And that's not going to change either."
She pushed past Dawson and out the window.
Dawson apologized the next day. Joey forgave him, and they both pretended it had never happened. But Joey stopped being so unguarded in her affection for him. She had no desire for a repeat performance.
IV.
Joey was folding laundry with Bessie when their doorbell rang. They weren't expecting guests at the B&B that night, nor company of any sort. It turned out to be a somber Mrs. Ryan and a gleeful Jen.
"Good evening, Elizabeth. Josephine, my granddaughter and I have something to discuss with you."
"Okay, shoot." Something about Mrs. Ryan's formality always made Joey want to be as boorish as possible.
"I realize you are pregnant, Josephine."
Joey opened her mouth to berate Jen for telling, but Mrs. Ryan held up a hand for silence.
"Jennifer did not tell me. The signs are obvious to anyone who knows what to look for, and will soon be obvious to anyone with eyes. Once I surmised the truth, I went to my granddaughter for further pertinent information before deciding to make this proposal."
"What proposal?" asked Bessie, even more eager than Joey to hurry Mrs. Ryan along.
"While I do not approve of the behavior which got you in this situation, nor of your choice to hide the truth from the father, nor your unwillingness to view adoption by some nice, stable family as your wisest course of action—"
"Here we go again," muttered Bessie.
"I am proud of you for deciding to carry this baby to term and still attempt to pursue a higher education. To aid you in which end, we would like to offer you a place to stay with us in Boston."
"And I'm here to say everything Grams said, but in a nice way. Joey, I know the dorms are out for you with the baby coming, and the Capeside commute is just not practical. And did I mention this offer comes complete with free baby-sitting? Come stay with us."
Joey was overwhelmed. Her living situation come fall term had been one of the major stresses in her life. She had confided it to Jen, but hadn't expected a solution. Even knowing it meant living with Mrs. Ryan, she could conceive of no better option. "Thank you both so much. I don't know what to say."
"Just say yes, so I can get Grams out of your hair." Jen leaned her head against her grandmother's shoulder, which took the sting from her words.
Joey smiled and said yes.
I.
Even though there were still two weeks until school started, Joey quit her job and told her sister she wanted to head to Boston right away. Bessie showed surprisingly little resistance. Probably she was so sick of Joey's foul mood, she was happy to let Pacey take his turn with what pregnancy hath wrought. Bessie and Bodie helped her load the truck and set out the next day.
Pacey, already in Boston, had been authorized by Mrs. Ryan to take possession of the house. She, Jen and Jack would be moving up next week. For five, entire, blissful days, Joey and Pacey would have the house to themselves.
When he opened the door to her insistent ring, her hello kiss nearly bowled him over before he recovered enough to push her back against the stairwell.
Pacey laughed when she finally let him up for air. "I'm glad you didn't expect me to carry you across the threshold." He greeted a bemused Bessie and Bodie. "So this is our new home. Not much downstairs yet, but I've got a few things set up in our room, Jo. We drew the attic, which is a longer walk and less finished, but more space and privacy. Why don't you and Bessie check the place out? I'll help Bodie with your stuff."
Joey wandered through the living room, dining room and kitchen, thinking she would have no problem calling this place home for the next four years. Bessie loved the brick and the wood floors. The second floor featured the three bedrooms for their roommates.
"Only two bathrooms, though," Bessie opined. "I foresee stressful mornings aplenty."
"Since my hundred days on a boat, I've learned to be grateful for the small things, like hot running water. We'll manage."
They took long enough looking things over that they trailed Bodie, Pacey and Joey's dresser up the stairs. Joey watched the muscles work in Pacey's arms and back while he maneuvered the heavy furniture and licked her lips. She suddenly couldn't wait for her family to leave.
Lust was superseded by love when she poked her head above the stairway railing and got her first view of the nest Pacey had built for her. A new queen-sized mattress on a second hand bedstead. A clunky, cheap set of drawers for Pacey's things, but a beautiful roll-top desk for Joey's schoolwork. And, best of all, an antique oak crib, with crisp, new, white bedding. Tears dripped unchecked down Joey's face. To give her this, Pacey had lived in a car for two months.
Pacey and Bodie placed her dresser to their satisfaction. Her boyfriend turned to her, expression falling at her swollen eyes. "You okay, Jo? We can change anything you don't like."
"Don't you dare!" She grabbed the hem of his ugly, orange shirt, pulling him to her. "It's perfect. And you're not so bad yourself."
Pacey's face lit like a kid on Christmas morning. "You like it? Really?"
"Yeah, but don't let it go to your head, Pace. If you really want to impress me, keep your dirty clothes off the floor."
"Aww, come on, Potter. You can't expect miracles."
Their week to themselves was nearly perfect, even with the hours Pacey worked. Maybe that was part of what made it perfect. All their time alone on True Love had felt like a fantasy, a fairy tale. This felt real, and very adult.
Joey was anything but bored while he was away. She went walking to learn their neighborhood, memorized bus schedules, did the shopping and laundry. She unpacked, of course, and made their room feel even more like home. On Jen's relayed instructions from Mrs. Ryan, Joey took measurements of some of the other rooms, so they'd know which furniture to keep.
She spent a lot of time on the Worthington campus, finding her way around. The jitters she felt about her forthcoming collegiate life increased daily.
And being six months pregnant, she took naps. A lot of naps.
One day, she paid Pacey a visit at Civilization. He showed her around, introduced her to his (jackass) boss and colleagues, had her taste the food. Joey marveled at how happy he was.
"Pacey, you really like this, don't you? Cooking, I mean."
He ducked his head, somewhat sheepishly. "Yeah, I guess I do. It's fun, and I...I think maybe I'm good at it. Or could be, someday."
"Why didn't you tell me before? All this time, I've been feeling horrible, thinking of your slaving away at these gross jobs to provide for us. Knowing you may have found your calling?" She kissed his forehead. "It's a weight off my shoulders."
Another benefit of Pacey's Civilization gig? The leftovers he brought home were a huge step up from ramen noodles.
Part of Joey was sad to see the moving van pull up in front of their little loveshack. But she was also excited to see Jen and Jack again, and even Mrs. Ryan, who had made all this possible. And having furniture in more than one room wouldn't suck.
Joey was home to welcome them, but Pacey was at work. She was happy to help them unload, even if it was just light things, but Mrs. Ryan wouldn't hear of it. She kept fretting about the size of Joey's ankles and ordered her to put her feet up.
"Let her be, Grams," Jen said, rolling her eyes.
Joey didn't mind. She remembered how horrible Mrs. Ryan was to Bessie during her pregnancy; fussing over her health, she would gladly accept. Sometimes Joey wondered if Jen realized how much she had changed her grandmother.
Jack was no more willing to let Grams unload than she had been to let Joey, so he and his boyfriend Tobey—and Pacey, after work—did most of the heavy lifting, under Jen and Mrs. Ryan's often contradictory directions.
Joey sat back with a glass of a orange juice and a pillow under her bare feet and watched the fun. Except for having to pee every five minutes—Baby had decided to make her bladder his first soccer ball—it was a great day.
Until the celebratory post-move pizza, when Mrs. Ryan reminded Joey exactly why she'd been a figure of terror to her for so many years.
"So, Josephine, may I ask what your plans are?"
"Um." Joey struggled to talk around a mouthful of cheesy bread and think with a tired head full of cotton. "Plans for what? School? Mostly gen. ed. for the first semester."
"That's all well and good, but I meant on a more personal note." She gazed pointedly at Pacey on the couch at Joey's side.
Pacey must have felt the old witch's stare, because he turned away from talking sports with Jack. "Sorry, what?"
"I was asking Josephine about your plans, dear."
"Plans for what?" Jen asked. She grabbed another slice of pizza and draped herself sideways over the recliner, ignoring her grandmother's disapproving look.
"These two children have decided that they are old enough to raise a child. According to you, they have spent a lot of time and effort in planning their future together, and I find myself wondering where, in all this, they have placed the subject of marriage." Evelyn Ryan turned her hawk eyes back on Joey. "Despite your sister's example, marriage is still the safest and best place for the raising of children."
"Unless you're gay," threw in Tobey. "Then good luck with either."
Jen raised her pizza towards him, in a sign of solidarity.
"Uh, we haven't..." Pacey stumbled, with a sideways look at Joey.
"Weddings are expensive," Joey blurted out.
"Nonsense. Weddings are only as expensive as you let them be. You can get married at any courthouse for the cost of a license. You could be married in this very room for not much more."
Joey threw Jen a help! please! look, but Jen was watching them with speculation in her eye. "Grams does have a point."
"What!?" Jack exploded. Joey was glad she wasn't the only one astonished to find Jen on Mrs. Ryan's side.
"Oh, her reasons are crazy, no doubt. Sorry, Grams, but my parents would have done me and themselves a huge favor if they'd never tied the knot in the first place. But about Pacey and Joey, specifically. Maybe you guys should get married."
"We...we're too young," Joey spluttered.
Jen shrugged. "You're not too young to have a baby. Or live together. Legally, the State says you're old enough, and, financially, it might be good for your student aid package next year, Joey, since Bessie couldn't claim you as a dependent anymore."
"Very logical, sure, but hardly the most romantic reason to get married."
"Who said marriage and romance have anything to do with each other? From all I've seen, marriage is a mud-crawl through minefields. You either have each other's back, or you both get blown to pieces."
"Jennifer!" Mrs. Ryan tsked.
"What? You know the most compelling reason I can think of why Pacey and Joey are ready for marriage? Nothing to do with the baby. Any prick with a prick can knock a girl up. No offense, Pacey."
Pacey waved away the insult. Joey realized he hadn't said much of anything since the conversation began. He was leaning forward, elbows on his knees, hands clasped together. Joey couldn't see his face.
"So what's the reason?" Jack asked.
"That they spent three months together on a ten foot deathtrap—"
"Hey!" Pacey objected to Jen's description of his True Love.
"I almost died on that thing!" Jen countered. "Anyway, three months on a very small boat, and they didn't kill each other. Not only that, they somehow still loved each other, maybe even more than before. I figure, you manage a feat like that, you're probably ready for trench warfare."
"You make a fair point, Jennifer, in spite of your crude metaphor and unfortunate view of holy matrimony. I hope your friends will take it to heart." Mrs. Ryan rose from her seat, gathering paper plates and empty soda cans. "Now, it's been a long day. I thank you all for your hard work, but there's still much to do tomorrow. I suggest we all call it a night."
"The nerve of that woman!" Joey was still fuming half an hour later. She had changed into her pajamas—a camisole and a pair of Pacey's boxers—and was rubbing lotion into her skin while Pacey sat on the bed behind her, brushing her hair. "To ambush us like that, and then walk away without even giving us a chance for a rebuttal."
Pacey's even strokes took only the slightest pause before he resumed. "So what would you have said?"
"I...I...I'd have said that marriage is neither a foxhole, nor a recipe for a perfect family, nor a ploy for cheaper education. And more importantly, I'd have said it's none of their damn business anyway."
Pacey didn't respond. He kept brushing her hair. Joey could feel her anger slowly receding with every downward sweep of the brush. She closed her eyes and let her body relax.
"Hey, Pace?"
"Yeah?"
"We've never talked about it—marriage. Just you and me, I mean."
She heard him take a deep breath before he answered carefully, "No, we haven't."
"Well, what do you think? You were awfully quiet downstairs, and I know you. When you're not saying anything, it means you have the most to say."
The brushing stopped. Joey heard the thump of her brush on the nightstand. Her eyes fluttered open, but Pacey wrapped her in his arms from behind, his hands resting gently on the bulge of her belly.
"I think that if marriage was something you wanted, it would have shown up on one of your silly lists, and it wouldn't have taken Grams and Jen to make you talk about it."
Joey frowned. Pacey was right, but she wanted to make him see why she didn't want it. "It's not about us, Pace. It's just...every marriage I've ever seen has been a disaster. My dad brazenly cheated on my dying mother. Even Mrs. Leery cheated on Dawson's dad. Look at Jen's parents, or yours, or Jack's. Whereas the one semi-functional adult relationship I've been exposed to is Bessie and Bodie, and they're not married."
Pacey's chuckle wafted against her hair. "I think you believe in Jen's mudhole marriage theory more than you want to admit."
"But I'm right. You know I am!"
"Have I argued with you about this at all? We've seen a lot of crap marriages, Jo. I could even add a few more to the list, like my sister Kerry's. But for the sake of complete honesty, let's put Mr. and Mrs. Ryan in the 'Pro' column."
Joey remembered before Mr. Ryan got sick, seeing them out in the garden, Mrs. Ryan weeding, him reading, while Joey, Dawson and Pacey played in the Leery yard. Mr. Ryan would stop after every page, like clockwork, look up at his wife, and smile. Smile at the witch in a way seven-year-old Joey had found most perplexing. She remembered summer nights, leaving her rowboat at the dock, the light in Dawson's window beckoning her forward; she would pass the Ryans, more often than not, side by side on their bench, his arm around her shoulders, her head resting against him as they watched the creek roll by.
"They're the exception," Joey admitted.
Pacey kissed her collarbone, the slope of her jaw, the tip of her ear. "We could be an exception," he breathed.
Whirling around wasn't something Joey was capable of at this stage in her pregnancy, but she twisted her bulk in his arms until she could see Pacey's face. "Are you serious? You want to get married?"
Pacey sighed, pulled his mouth thin as he shrugged. "You don't want to, Jo, so I'm fine with that. But for myself, I would have no trouble promising to love, honor and cherish you in the presence of etcetera."
She was flattered and moved and surprised. She'd had no idea the thought had even crossed his mind. "How long have you been feeling this way?"
"A while. I know why you feel the way you do, and I can love you just as well without a ceremony and a piece of paper. But I want you to know if the day ever comes when you change your mind, you wouldn't even need to ask."
"I thought it was the guy's job to ask," Joey teased, hoping he'd know that wasn't an invitation to propose. He was right. She didn't want to get married, even loving him this much. Maybe because she loved him so much.
"Heck no. You're the one with the commitment issues, you're the one who gets to ask. And if you do, make it good, Potter. I'm wasting the best years of my life on you."
"These are your best years?" Joey asked, feigning disbelief.
Pacey opened his mouth to retort, but she kissed him before he could. Mrs. Ryan wasn't the only one who knew how to silence a rebuttal.