Part Ten
II.
Once again, Joey was sitting in a bathroom, waiting for lines to appear on a stick. But this time, she was not alone. And this time, she was hoping for two lines.
Pacey sat beside her on the edge of the tub, holding her hand and checking his watch every ten seconds. When the alarm finally buzzed, they both jumped.
"You check," Joey said. "I'm too nervous."
"You're the one who peed on it," Pacey griped, but obediently stood and glanced at the small, white test resting on the sink. "There's a couple of lines on it. Does it matter what color they are?"
Joey's hand rushed to her belly. "Two? Two lines, you're sure?" Without waiting for his answer, she jumped up to confirm for herself.
"So what's it mean?"
She tried to think of a way to tell him that didn't reek of cliché, then gave up. "We'll need to find a new storage space. My old room's going to have a new occupant soon."
Joey could never decide which pleased her more, the slow grin which spread across Pacey's face or the tears which swirled in his eyes. Better than both was the shower of kisses he rained upon her.
She decided she didn't hate those sticks as much as she thought she did.
IV.
The trip to Maine was a disaster from the word go. After the painful week cohabitating, Joey's enthusiasm for it had dimmed, and Anders was angry when he discovered Pacey wouldn't come visit, as he had in the city.
The kids squabbled all the way there. Anders talked too much about Pacey, offending Bella who assured him her dad was the best in the world. Anders fought back, and the two were in open war. Greg's attempt at peacekeeping led Anders to the rejoinder every step or prospective stepparent dreaded: "You're not my daddy!"
Brandon got carsick.
The situation only deteriorated once they arrived. The cabin was having plumbing problems, which meant lake baths and outdoor toilets. The weather was unbearably hot and muggy. Anders got stung by a bee—luckily, he wasn't allergic—and they all were eaten alive by mosquitoes.
Greg tried to hold things together, organizing group hikes and canoe rides. Joey knew she should follow his example and put a positive spin on things, but the lack of indoor plumbing had soured her spirits, alongside an unnamed longing she refused to recognize as being identical to Anders'.
The last straw came early in the second week when the kids stumbled into a field of poison ivy. Two hours, a scrub in the lake, and a massive dose of Calamine lotion later, Anders was still sobbing, "I want...to go...home!"
"Me too, baby," Joey whispered.
She apologized to Greg, but asked him to give her and Anders a ride to the nearest train station. Joey and Greg had their first real fight that day, as he accused her of spoiling her son, of catering too much to his whims, and she accused him of refusing to acknowledge that this whole vacation sucked ass. It devolved from there. But Joey got her ride—a silent one—to the station.
Joey bought herself and Anders tickets to Boston, but there wasn't another train to Capeside that day. It felt more like kismet than deja vu when Joey used her cell to call Pacey as they left the wilds of Maine behind.
"Jo, is Anders okay? Everything all right?" Pacey sounded almost frantic.
Of course he does, she thought. I haven't called him once since he's been back.
"It's okay, Pace. We're both mostly intact, just bee-stung and mosquito-bitten, and Anders has a stunner of a rash from some exploring he did. So we're coming home early. But I could only get a train to Boston and—I know it's a horrible imposition, but Bessie and Bodie wake up so—"
"When and where, Joey?"
She gave him the details and thanked him.
There was a moment's quiet on the line, then, "I'm glad you called me," and Pacey hung up.
Pacey was there to greet them as they disembarked. Anders ran to his father, and Pacey held him tight, disregarding Joey's warning about possible contamination from the poison ivy. He slung the boy around and gave him a piggyback ride to the car. He grabbed Joey's bag without a word; she stumbled along behind with only Anders' backpack.
Pacey listened to Anders' list of woes with all appropriate sympathy, then got him settled in the backseat, while Joey slid into the front passenger seat. Pacey's favorite classic rock station blared from the radio when he turned on the car, but he turned down the volume as he shifted into drive.
"Thank you again for doing this, Pacey. I know you have to work tomorrow, too."
"Not as early as your family. And I'm happy to help, honestly. It gave me a break from unpacking."
"Unpacking?"
"Finally got a place of my own. A little shack on the beach, not far from Gretchen's old one. Worse shape than hers, but the landlord agreed to knock off half the rent in exchange for repairs. And it's two bedrooms, so Anders can have a place of his own."
"My room's at Mommy's house."
"I know, buddy, but I thought it would be nice if you had one with me, too. Someplace for your games and toys, and some clothes, if your mom is okay letting you spend the night sometimes."
"Like with Alex?" Anders perked up more than he had in a week. "Can I, Mom, can I?"
"Sure, sweetie. Sometimes."
"Tonight?"
"Not tonight. I made you an appointment at the doctor's tomorrow, remember, to check out your rash. And your dad has to work."
"Tomorrow?"
Joey looked at Pacey to see what he thought, he turned toward her at the same time, but both were obscured in the night.
"I'd love it, if it's okay with your mom."
"All right, tomorrow night."
Anders squealed with joy. Joey told him not to yell in the car. Pacey turned up the radio again. Anders was asleep within twenty minutes. When Pacey was sure the boy was deep in dreamland, he turned off the music.
"You can tell me if it's none of my business, but is everything all right, Jo?"
Joey remembered the last time he'd picked her up at a station in the middle of the night; she assumed he did, too, thus, the question. "Fine. Anders was miserable, so we came home."
"And what's-his-name, the boyfriend?"
"Greg is big on finishing what he starts, so he and his kids are toughing out the lack of air conditioning and running water."
Pacey chuckled. "Sounds like Anders wasn't the only one who was miserable."
Joey looked out the window. "No, he wasn't."
"I'll grab the kid, if you take the bags."
Anders hadn't stirred when Pacey pulled up in front of Joey's apartment building. Joey had no desire to lug a sleep-heavy five-year-old up a flight of stairs, or to wake him and listen to him whine his way to bed.
"Deal." She grabbed the luggage from the backseat then unlocked the outer door and waited for Pacey to transfer a disoriented Anders from the car to his arms.
This is what dads are for, Joey thought with a pang, as she watched Pacey carry their son as though he weighed nothing. She held the outer door for him, then hurried up the stairs to unlock the front door and turn on the lights.
Pacey's foot hovered for a moment in the doorway. Deliberately, Joey walked on to Anders' room, without looking back to see if he followed.
"In here," she said and flipped the light. She dropped both bags by Anders' door, then turned back his blankets.
Pacey laid the child down on his bed and stepped back while Joey took off Anders' shoes and socks and tucked him in. When she stood and looked around, Pacey was staring at the wall over Anders' headboard. It was plastered with the postcards Pacey had sent her.
"He was obsessed with those for quite a while until you came back."
"I didn't imagine you'd kept them." Pacey's voice was hoarse.
"Yeah, well, I knew he'd want them someday." Joey knew she'd said the wrong thing immediately. She could have kicked herself.
Pacey turned away from the postcards and faced her with a forced smile. "Thanks for that, anyway. Night, Joey." He headed out of the room as though pursued by the zombie apocalypse.
"Pacey, wait." She hurried after him. "You went out of your way for us tonight. Won't you stay and have a drink with me?"
He stopped, turned, at least faked glancing at his watch. "Not a good idea. Work in the morning, and I need to drive home. Thanks for the offer, though."
Joey watched him go, trying to discern the magic words which would make him stay.
At the doorway, Pacey paused again, braced both hands against the doorway as if considering something, then turned back around. "I meant that thanks before, Joey, however it sounded. You made him love me before he ever met me. I don't know how or why you did that, but I know most women wouldn't have. So thank you."
He was gone before the "You're welcome," made it to her lips.
I.
Pacey adjusted their umbrella to give Elisa better shade as she napped on the towel between her parents. Joey kept her eyes glued to Anders and Alex as they squealed and played in the outgoing tide.
"It was a great idea, Jo, this week in Capeside. I almost don't want to go back."
"So let's not." Joey leaned back on her elbows, relaxing a bit as the boys moved inland to build a sandcastle.
"Very funny, Potter. There is this little thing called work." Joey could see the black cloud settling over Pacey as he said the word.
"Quit," Joey finally voiced the thought she had been wanting to for months. "You've been miserable there ever since the new management came in. Quit, Pace."
Pacey gaped at her. "You're serious?"
She nodded, turning on her side to face him. Pacey mirrored her position with their sleeping daughter separating them. "I am. I don't like it when you're unhappy, sweetheart. Not least because you're horrible to be around."
"Gee, thanks."
"Oh, come on. You know you've been snappish with me and the kids. You must be tired of apologizing for it by now."
"I am, but your grand solution is, what, for us all to become beach bums and live on the fish we catch? You hate fish."
Joey rolled her eyes. "Give me some credit. Bessie and I were walking in town the other day, and I noticed no one's ever built where the Ice House used to be. We've talked about you opening your own place someday. Maybe now is the time."
Pacey sucked in a breath, but his eyes lit up. "The Ice House? It's not a bad idea. But I couldn't ask you to move back to Capeside when you've worked so hard to get out—"
"We've worked hard," Joey corrected. "And I don't know, maybe having kids has changed my perspective a bit. It was a nice place to grow up, a safe place, if you discount the occasional hurricane or drug-fueled arson. Safer than Boston, anyway. A good school district, and lots of family and friends around. Anders loves it here, Elisa will, too, and I can do my work from anywhere."
"Opening a restaurant is risky, Jo, you know that. It might be years before we turn a profit, if we ever do."
"Not to brag or anything, but, as of our last tax return, I'm making more than you. We can live on that. I don't mind. It's worth it if this will make you happy." Joey laid her hand on Elisa's tiny torso and felt its rhythmic rise and fall.
Pacey covered her hand with his. "As long as it doesn't make you unhappy."
Joey smiled. "I'm the one who suggested it, doofus."
IV.
After Anders got the all clear from his doctor, Joey drove by Bessie's and picked up a few small packing boxes from the kitchen surplus.
"What are they for, Mom?" Anders asked, when she stuffed them beside him in the backseat.
"For your stuff. We're gonna pack some things for you to take to Daddy's."
Anders was excited about the idea, until he realized that instead of playing with his toys, he was going to spend the morning dividing them into a "Dad's house" box and a "Mom's house" pile. While her son dillied and dallied his way through the task, Joey sorted his dresser, boxing up some clothes for Pacey's and others Anders had outgrown for Goodwill.
She called Pacey at work to let him know he didn't need to pick up Anders; she'd drop him off at the new house.
"Checking it's safe for human habitation?"
"Well, the fact that you live there certainly doesn't prove it." Joey was surprised at how easily the old banter flew from her lips. She worried Pacey would take it the wrong way, but his deep chuckle rasped against her ear. She grinned with no one to see.
"And here I thought that famous Potter mouth had run out of nasty things to say, used all up and become a sarcasm burnout."
"I had been running low on material for a while, but then you stumbled back into my life."
"Ouch! She wounds, she wounds." There was a muffled voice on the other end of the line, followed by Pacey's equally incomprehensible reply. Then he told her, "Hey, Jo, they need me here. I gotta cut this short." He gave her his new address and said they could come by anytime after three-thirty.
Joey hung up, flushed and happy and adrenaline-charged. An absurd overreaction to a moment's interaction, but the buoyancy stayed with her through the rest of the packing, all of Anders' whining, and the drive to Pacey's in the afternoon.
His new beach house didn't differ much from the old one, except in being more of a dump, if the missing shingles and hole in the porch were any indication. Joey grabbed two boxes and made Anders carry the other as they walked up to the door. Anders rang the doorbell. When Pacey didn't appear, Joey suggested it was broken and had her son knock.
Through the glass door, she saw Pacey exit one of the back rooms and hurry toward them. "Heya, squirt, whatcha got there, house-warming present?"
"Something like that," Joey said, as Pacey relieved her of one of the boxes. His hand brushed her arm as he did, and her good mood soared a little higher. "We brought some of Anders' stuff, so he can do some unpacking of his own."
"That's awesome of you, Jo. Come on in. I'll give you the tour." He stepped back and ushered them inside. "Living room, dining room, kitchen." Pacey gestured around the functional, slightly old-fashioned, multi-purpose area. "Bathroom." He stuck his thumb in the door on the right.
The mom in Joey had to make certain it was sanitary. It was. The room smelled strongly of bleach, but Pacey had done a thorough job, not a trace of mold or mildew to be seen, just a few broken tiles and a jiggly toilet handle.
"My room." Pacey waved toward a door on the left. Joey wasn't brave enough to peek inside. "And Anders' room." He entered the last door, the one he'd emerged from at their knock. They followed him in.
"Cool, a Batman bed," Anders said, scrambling up the new furniture to break it in by jumping on it. Pacey had also gotten his son a new dresser and a toy box that looked like a sea chest.
"It looks great, Pace," Joey told him.
Pacey smiled, irrationally pleased at any compliment from her. "There's still a lot to do, but I wanted Anders' space to feel livable before he got here."
Anders took an especially forceful jump off the bed and into his father's arms. Pacey barely managed to keep him from falling. "Dad, can we play on the beach? Mom didn't let me outside all day!"
"Sure, kiddo." While Anders whooped and headed for the door, Pacey looked at Joey. "Mind sticking around a few minutes? There's something I'd like to discuss with you."
"Sorry, I'm all out of land to give," Joey teased, but she headed out to the beach with him.
Pacey and Joey stood next to each other, a foot apart and watched their son explore the tide pools. Joey had the ridiculous urge to grab Pacey's hand and pull his arm around her shoulders. She resisted.
"You must think I'm a jerk and an idiot for not realizing this earlier, but I want to contribute."
"Contribute?"
"Financially. You know, child support."
"You already contribute. I haven't bought him a toy in months, since you keep spoiling him. And you wouldn't believe the difference it makes, not having to feed him 24/7."
"But that's fun stuff. I want to be a real dad to him, Joey, and that includes financial support. If we went to court, they would make me pay. I'm just cutting out the middle-man."
Joey frowned. "I can tell this is important to you, Pacey, but my financial independence has been a point of pride for me. My expenses have gone down, not up, since you arrived. It's stupid to make you pay, especially when you're trying to get a restaurant off the ground."
Pacey looked dissatisfied with her answer, but Anders called him away to see something and he went. Joey watched father and son together and tried to think of a way to reconcile Pacey's pride with her own.
"Hey, Pace!" she called when the idea struck.
He jogged back to her. "Yeah, Jo?"
"If it's that important to you, come school shopping with us tomorrow. I promise we'll split the expenses right down the middle."
Pacey beamed. "Yeah?"
Joey nodded grimly. "Don't smile. You haven't experienced the joys of K-mart with a small boy before."
"All right, here are the ground rules," Joey announced, turning to face Anders in the backseat without making a move to leave the car. "No touching anything unless I say so. No hiding anything in the cart. Stay with me or your father at all times, and no begging or whining for anything. You got that, mister?"
Behind the wheel, Pacey smothered a laugh at her severity.
"Yes, Mom," sighed the long-suffering Anders, unbuckling his seatbelt.
"If you follow all those rules, we'll get ice cream after."
"Yay!" Anders' scream was deafening in the confined space.
"I said if," Joey reminded him, finally opening her door.
"Bribery, Potter?" Pacey asked, as he took Anders' left hand, Joey took his right, and they swung him back and forth between them while they crossed the parking lot.
"Incentive is a wonderful thing."
Pacey pulled a cart from the line as they entered. He let Anders hop on the end and ride it. As they careened through the aisles, Joey wondered if she had brought along a second boy in need of supervision.
They headed to school supplies first. Joey had brought Anders' kindergarten list with her. She let him pick when there were multiple choices, including a new backpack—this year's superhero of choice was the Hulk—and managed to make it out of the aisle with only one unnecessary sticker book.
"Where to next?" Pacey asked.
"Clothes. He doesn't need much, new shoes, socks, underwear. A couple pairs of pants without grass stains or holes. Most of his things are hand-me-down from Alex."
"Jo, I could—"
"No, Pacey. I want Anders to appreciate new things when he gets them, not feel entitled to them. Among my long list of childhood woes, having to wear my sister's castoffs doesn't rank."
"As I recall, you had to give that up when you grew legs and Bessie grew breasts."
Joey shoved Pacey for that remark, which caused the cart to swerve and Anders to squeal, "Again! Again!"
While Anders tried on shoes, they talked out their schedule for the school year. The ground at the new Ice House had been broken while Joey and Anders were in Maine. Pacey was going to divide his days between Leery's and the construction site, but he didn't want to forfeit his time with Anders.
In the end, they decided Anders would spend Mondays and Wednesdays with his dad, Tuesdays and Thursdays with his mom, and they would alternate Fridays. On weekends, he would have breakfast with Pacey before work, then spend the rest of the day with Joey.
The schedule appeared practical. Joey could find only one drawback to it. With almost all the trade-offs occurring before and after school, she would no longer see Pacey every day. It wasn't an objection she could voice.
Anders was about as well-behaved on their shopping trip as he'd ever been, his father's antics aside. So Joey kept her promise and treated them all to ice cream. Anders and Joey ordered their traditional chocolate in waffle cones, while Pacey got pecan praline.
"It makes me miss the real stuff," Pacey said, after a long lick Joey was ashamed to admit she watched avidly. "I can make it, but mine isn't as good as any street vendor in New Orleans."
"That's right. Bodie said you worked in New Orleans. What were you doing there?"
"After Paris, everything that happened...my marriage falling apart...the States looked a lot more appealing. I flew back to visit Gretch, interviewed for The Delta on a whim, and got the job."
"Doug told me Gretchen was in Memphis."
Pacey shrugged. "She was for a while. You know Gretch, always chasing the illusion of happiness."
"Who's Gretchen?" asked a sticky-faced Anders.
"My sister. Your aunt. I'm trying to talk her into coming home for Thanksgiving or Christmas, so she can meet you. It would be nice for you to know there's at least one sane person in my family."
"What about Doug?" teased Joey.
"Jury's still out, unlike Doug, who's still mostly in." Pacey's barb was perfunctory. He was staring at her mouth in a way that made Joey self-conscious.
"What? Did it drip?" Joey swiped a napkin across her mouth and chin.
Pacey licked his thumb, then rubbed it against the left corner of her bottom lip. "Missed a spot."
Joey felt her face burning, a sensation which traveled the rest of her body when Pacey sucked the chocolate off his thumb.
"Did I miss a spot, Dad?"
Joey yanked her eyes away and laughed at her chocolate-bearded son.
Greg called that night. He and his kids were home. The poison ivy infection had spread, with no laundry and no running water, and they were covered in rashes. Greg apologized profusely for the fight, said Joey had been right to leave, and hoped leaving the cabin hadn't meant leaving him.
Joey apologized, as well, assured him they were as good as ever. She wondered how to begin to tell him that wasn't necessarily enough for her anymore. She put it off for later, once his rash had healed.
The new school year started. Pacey drove them both for Anders' first day of kindergarten. Anders was unfazed by it, after three years of preschool. Joey was a ridiculous mess, not helped by the fact that she had to rush off to her own class. Pacey gave her a sympathetic shoulder squeeze before she left, and the touch lingered for hours.
Greg walked her home after school—it was Pacey's day with Anders—as kind and devoted as ever. But there wasn't a single spark when he kissed her goodbye.
Joey knew she needed to end things, but she couldn't find the words. It's not you, it's me, though true, was too cliché to be credited. If she told him they didn't have passion, Greg would calmly inquire why it took her two years to discover this and make her discuss the whole situation until Joey didn't know what she felt anymore. In certain ways, Greg was entirely too much like Dawson.
The most honest answer, I am so head over heels in love with Anders' father there isn't room for anyone else, was too hurtful, and she wasn't sure Greg would believe it. Which would mean more talking. She wished she were one of those horrible people who broke up over email.
She put it off again.
II.
They—mostly Pacey, who freaked if Joey was on her feet too long—painted the spare bedroom a gender-neutral pale yellow and alternated laughing and screaming while they put together the crib. They fought over names, and Joey complained about her bladder and the daily barf sessions.
She had never been happier.
IV.
A few weeks into the fall term, Joey checked her voicemail during first recess. She had two messages. The first was from the school nurse's office, informing her that Anders had thrown up in class and needed to be taken home. The second was from Pacey, telling her the nurse had called—Joey had added Pacey along with Bessie to the emergency contact list—and he was on the way to pick him up. Relief that Anders would be cared for merged with regret that she couldn't be there for him.
During lunch break, Joey called Pacey from the teachers' lounge. He answered on the third ring.
"Jo?" Pacey sounded frazzled. She could hear Anders moaning in the background.
"Hey, Pacey. I got your message. How is he?"
"Not good. Everything's coming out one end or the other, he has a fever, and he says everything hurts. Should I take him to the doctor?"
Joey kept her voice calm as she talked him through his first childhood illness. "No, it's probably just a stomach bug. If it lasts more than forty-eight hours, we'll take him in. For now, give him a cool bath, with oatmeal, if you have any."
"Oatmeal?"
"Trust me. Try to get him to take in fluids throughout the day. Water or Pedialyte would be best, but juice or ginger ale if that's all you can convince him to drink. Saltine crackers to snack on, and as much rest as he can manage. I'll be there as soon as school's over."
"Thanks, Jo. See you on the other side." Pacey sounded like he was marching into war.
Joey surveyed Pacey's house as she approached the door. He had already made significant improvements. The shingles and the porch had been repaired, and the outside had been painted a creamy white, with dark green trim.
The doorbell still didn't work, but Pacey was slumped in a living room chair and headed towards her before she could knock. He was noticeably bedraggled, still in his work clothes, hair mussed, eyes haunted.
"You look like you've had a day," Joey said, as he stepped back to let her in.
"He's finally sleeping." Pacey beckoned her back to Anders' room, where the little boy lay curled up, arms holding his belly even in sleep. "I don't know how you manage it, Jo," Pacey whispered, as they watched him from the doorway.
"Welcome to parenthood. I remember the first time he got the stomach flu. He was only two." Joey stared up at Pacey's profile and made herself be brave. "It was the day I was supposed to fly to Paris to meet you."
Pacey drew in a sharp breath and pivoted to face her.
"Bessie said I should go, that he would be fine. But he looked so miserable, and I was so scared. I couldn't go. And, of course, Bessie was right. Two days later, he was running around like nothing ever happened."
"But you were planning to come? You were going to..." Pacey swallowed hard and turned back to Anders. "I wish I'd known."
"I thought about having Jen contact you, if she could. But there was too much to explain. I could tell you about Anders with two weeks on a boat, but not in a two minute apology."
"But you were going to come," Pacey said, like he couldn't believe it.
"I told you I would," Joey said simply.
When he turned to her, Pacey's eyes were pools of blue she could drown herself in. "Jo." His hands reached out, slowly, so tentatively, and stroked down her cheekbones to cup her jaw. Her pulse hammered in her brain, her throat, her chest. Pacey took a step towards her, bent his head, and whispered again, "Jo."
"Yes," she breathed back into him as her eyes fluttered closed, anticipating the first brush of lips in far too many years.
"Mommy!" Anders' pained cry drew Pacey bolt upright, and Joey ran to the bed.
"Here, baby. I'm here." She pushed the hair from his sweaty brow and looked up at Pacey apologetically. "I really should get him home before the next round starts."
Pacey swiped a hand over his face, then nodded. "I'll carry him to the car for you."
Joey hoped he would make a second attempt before she left, but Pacey stayed on the other side of her car, helping Anders in, then waving goodbye. She had no choice but to get in the car herself and drive away.
Her insides roiled the rest of the day, while she cared for Anders. Joey thought it was all a reaction to that near-miss kiss. It wasn't until after midnight, when she puked her guts into the toilet bowl, that she realized she had stomach flu, too.
Joey's first call in the morning was to work, to let them know she and Anders would both be absent. Her second was to Pacey.
"Hey, Pace." She tried to sound cheerful and unconcerned, quite a feat when she was sure she was going to die. "Hope I didn't wake you. Just wanted to let you know you don't have to pick Anders up after school today. I'm keeping him home with me."
"Is he still sick?"
"He seemed better last night, but an extra day off is not a bad thing."
"I can keep him, Jo. A day off is easier for me to arrange than you."
"Thanks, but I got this. I've already taken the day." She fought a rising wave of panic, along with a rising need to heave.
There was a pause on the other end. "Jo, are you sick, too?"
"Maybe a bit. It's no big deal. I'll be—"
"Be there in twenty."
"—fine," Joey finished to the dial tone.
She spent the twenty minute interval dry heaving, trying to make herself not look like death warmed over, then giving it up as a hopeless case. Anders awoke starving, which she took as a good sign, but she limited him to peanut butter toast and a banana.
The doorbell rang while he was still eating. Joey was half-tempted to ignore it until Pacey went away. But Anders, mouth full, was staring at her, so she made herself get up and buzz Pacey in.
"Mom, you forgot to ask who it was," Anders chided. But he jumped out of his seat when Joey opened the door to his father. "Are you taking me to school today, Dad?"
Joey turned and left. She didn't have the energy to clean the kitchen or to talk to Pacey. She went back to bed. Their conversation drifted back to her.
"Not today, kiddo. You and your mom are sick. I'm just here to help."
"At Mom's house? Awesome! I can show you all my toys." Andersen kept talking, but it blurred together in Joey's fevered brain until she fell asleep.
She had scattered memories that day of Pacey's cool hands helping her sit up to drink, of him holding back her hair as everything she managed to swallow came right back up, of Anders' distant, excited shouts and nearby, quiet whispers. At one point, Pacey ran her a bath and carried her into the bathroom. Joey thought he left her to undress and bathe alone, but she wished she were more confident on that point.
Her fever broke sometime in the night. Joey awoke around three in the morning, parched and brittle, but herself again. She tiptoed to the kitchen for a glass of water and nearly broke her neck tripping over one of Anders' Legos. The entire living room was a disaster area, toys scattered everywhere, furniture disarranged, and, right in the middle, the biggest blanket fort she'd ever seen.
Steady breathing prompted Joey to peek inside, where she found Pacey flat on his back, sound asleep, with Anders laying perpendicular to him, dark head on his father's chest and dreaming away. A Goosebumps novel rested on the floor near Pacey's hand.
Joey got her water, left the mess, and went back to bed.
She woke again to the smells of fresh coffee and sizzling bacon. Her stomach, surprisingly, didn't revolt. Her alarm clock read 6:38 AM, enough time to get ready for work if she hurried.
Joey raced through her shower and dressing, opting to throw her hair up in a bun rather than drying it. Anders' voice greeted her as she stepped from the bathroom. He was initiating Pacey into the mind-splitting world of Yu-gi-oh.
Joey emerged to find no trace of the chaos in the night. Toys were put away, dishes were washed, fort had vanished, even the furniture was all back where it belonged. Anders was dressed—if not entirely matching—and sitting down to breakfast. A full morning spread filled Joey's kitchen table, not something she'd seen there, well, ever.
Pacey jumped to his feet at her approach. "Morning, Jo." He pulled out a chair before an empty plate and a deliciously full mug of coffee. "How are you feeling? I wasn't sure what you'd be up to this morning, but Anders was ravenous, so I made the lot."
"Thank you, Pacey. This is, this is so much. Everything you've done...I can't..." Tears swam in her eyes.
"Careful, Potter. You're getting sentimental. I've heard it's a side effect of hunger. Take a seat. You have a few minutes yet."
Mutely, Joey obeyed. She grabbed a few pieces of toast and bacon to nibble on while she drank her coffee. Pacey sent Anders to wash his hands and brush his teeth, while he cleared away and kept up a rambling, half-joking dialogue.
"I had to improvise a little with the blueberry pancakes. Would it kill you to stock up on fresh produce? You don't want the kid to get scurvy. No wonder you both got sick, and I didn't. A compromised immune system is no laughing matter."
Joey caught Pacey's hand in hers when he passed by her chair. The immediate zing racing through her skin had nothing to do with illness. "Seriously, Pacey, thank you."
His smile spread slowly. "Anytime, Jo. Anytime." He kissed the line where her forehead met her hair.
III.
There was screaming. On both their parts. And crying, mostly on hers. There were the nights she banished him to the couch and the ones he exiled himself there. There were the times he stormed out, and the nightmarish night when he didn't come back—Joey bailed him out of the drunk tank the next morning and didn't speak to him for a week.
Six years they'd built together. One lie in the foundation sent their relationship tottering. But in the end, it was still standing.
Maybe the baby helped. Even at their worst, Pacey didn't miss one of Joey's doctor's appointments, one landmark of her pregnancy, one shopping trip for another baby necessity.
But Joey believed it was more than that. At the height of the storm, she clung to the knowledge—and it was knowledge more than feeling then—that Pacey loved her, and she loved him. She trusted him to do the same.
One night, Pacey came to bed, placed his hand over the small bulge where their baby rested, and told her, "I forgive you." He never mentioned the past again.
IV.
Joey had a date with Greg scheduled for the next Saturday. He announced he had reservations at Leery's. She took it as a sign. She couldn't sit in that restaurant, eating Pacey's food, knowing Pacey was on the other side of the swinging door, and pretend to be in love with Greg. She would end it.
A vow easier made than kept. First, there was the small talk while they waited for their food. The kids, the work week. Greg asked about her illness. Joey told him she was better, without saying a word about Pacey's visit.
As if reading her mind, Greg observed, "Your ex has transformed this place. It will be interesting to see what he does with a restaurant of his own."
"Pacey's very talented," Joey agreed carefully.
"I was a bit surprised at you and your sister granting him use of your land, but your families have known each other for a long time."
Yeah, we go way back. His father arrested mine. Twice, Joey wanted to say, but didn't. She said nothing at all.
"In some ways, I still feel like such an outsider in this town." He took Joey's hand and squeezed it. "And in others, it feels like my only home."
Joey slowly extricated her hand during the distraction of their food arriving. Never a huge fan of fish, she had ordered the lobster ravioli. When Francie placed it before her, the waitress was grinning ear to ear. In the center of the plate stood a miniature Roman column, and on top of that column was a black box with a small, shiny ring inside. By the time Joey registered what was happening, it was too late to prevent it.
Greg knelt beside her on one knee, grabbing her cold, limp hand again. "Josephine Potter, you are one of the most extraordinary people I've ever met. I love you. I love your son, as I trust you love my children. I want us to be a family. Will you marry me?"
Joey was too aware of the watching eyes. Francie lingered; the surrounding diners glanced over; a couple of the wait staff peeked out the kitchen door. Pacey was nowhere to be seen.
Joey didn't look at Greg; she looked at the ring, and the column, and the luscious-smelling food she'd never taste. "How did you arrange this?"
Clearly not the answer Greg expected. Not the answer any man would expect. He blinked. "What?"
"This." She pushed her plate farther away from her. "The ring. How'd you arrange the ring? Was it with Francie, who?"
Greg abandoned the kneeling position which had suited him so poorly and slid back into his seat. "Josephine, why does that matter? I asked you to marry me. That's the relevant question."
"No, that's the relevant answer. I thank you, I'm sorry, but no. Who helped you?"
Greg's eyes widened as the truth rushed in on him. For a man whose heart had just been crushed, he maintained a remarkably stoic demeanor. "Pacey, of course. However, had I realized the true state of affairs, I would have selected a more politic ally. Tell me, Josephine, did you ever love me?"
Joey's shoulders folded together as she saw through her anger to the good man she'd hurt. "I wanted to. I tried to. I told myself I did."
"And then he came back," Greg finished bitterly.
Joey nodded, glad Francie and the others had all slipped away once it became clear this wasn't going to be a Kodak moment. "I'm sorry," she said again.
Greg played with his fork without answering, without touching his salmon.
"We should leave."
"No, I should leave. You should go to the kitchen and settle things with Anders' father." Greg's gray eyes had never been so bleak. "A boy should have a father." He rose, dropped some money for the bill, but was practical enough to take the ring with him.
Joey sat for a long time, staring at the empty pedestal and the ravioli as it grew colder. She considered following Greg's advice and marching back to confront Pacey, but one embarrassing public scene a night was her current limit. She could pick up Anders from Bessie's, but he liked spending the night with his cousin and was probably asleep anyway. She should go home, but it felt too great an effort to make when she was only going to curl up and cry at the other end.
So she sat, while diners came and went, while Francie didn't pester her or hint that she should leave, while her dinner grew colder.
"Here." Pacey set down a white container in front of her. "Crab cakes. A takeout order no one picked up. You need to eat, and I promise there's no ring in it." He slid into Greg's vacant seat.
Joey glared at him. "You helped him plan it, you jackass."
Pacey held up his hands in protest. "Whoa. I did nothing of the sort. Guy comes to me today, says he's proposing to you tonight and would I make sure the ring is on the plate. He's not a friend; he's a customer. What was I supposed to do, challenge him to pistols at dawn?"
"Nothing that dramatic." Despite herself, Joey realized she was hungry and opened the takeout. "Another sailboat race, maybe?"
Pacey grinned. "Don't have a boat."
"What happened to it? The one you had when you sent me the ticket, I mean."
"Sold it, after you didn't show up."
Joey frowned. "I'm sorry."
"It's not as dramatic as all that. I won it in a card game, then sold it back to the guy I won it from. I used the money to take some classes in Paris, so really, it helped me."
"Glad I could be of service." Joey broke off a bit of crab cake. It was delicious. It would have to be.
"Aww, Jo, that's not what I meant. Why are you so obsessed with dredging up the past? Why look back? The future's out there." Pacey's gesture encompassed the room, which Joey only now realized was empty except for them. She'd been sitting longer than she thought. Leery's was closed.
"I'm sorry, is this too much self-pity on a night when I managed to be proposed to and break up? Let me know what the proper mourning window was, fifteen minutes, half an hour?"
"You weren't talking about him. You were talking about us."
"This is about us!" Joey flicked over the tiny column into the congealing pasta.
Pacey surveyed her through hooded eyes. "How?"
"You didn't care!" She shoved away from the table and jumped to her feet. "You didn't try to stop him. You didn't watch to see what I'd say. You didn't care."
Anger—or something else—glinted in Pacey's eyes as he rose to confront her. "I don't have a say in what your boyfriend does." He took a step forward and erased the distance between them. "And I don't control your decisions." His hands reached out and clasped her arms, drawing her to him. "But I damn well do care."
Pacey kissed her, his mouth harsh and demanding. His grip on her arms made it seem like the kiss was out of her control, but Joey knew it wasn't. She opened her mouth and let him in.
Pacey stumbled at her eager response, and Joey used the momentum to push him back into one of the restaurant's wooden pillars. Pacey released his hold on her arms to right his own balance, and Joey buried her hands in his hair, to deepen the kiss.
"Joey," Pacey muttered when the kiss finally broke.
"How does this thing come off?" Joey wondered as she searched for the buttons on his chef shirt. She abandoned the thought to slip her hands underneath the hem and feel the skin of his back, the lines of his hips.
"Joey." Pacey caught her wandering fingers, then raised them to kiss the knuckles. "Jo, this is monumentally stupid. You just ended a long-term relationship."
"I don't care." She kissed him again, kissed him until her skin hummed and her head spun and the blood rushed hot and fierce through her veins. "Do you?"
In answer, Pacey made a sound somewhere between a groan and a growl. He dropped her hands to grab her thighs and hoist her up his body, taking her black skirt up as well. Trailing open-mouthed kisses along her neck and jaw, he twisted them into a large corner booth, where he fell back with Joey on his lap.
"I can't think straight around you," he confessed, as he played with the thin straps of her dress.
"I thought that was your brother's problem." Joey finally found the buttons of his damn shirt, inconveniently placed to the side.
"Funny girl." Pacey pulled her hips down to prove how very much of a not-problem that was.
Joey moaned. When he repeated the motion, she bit his ear and whispered, "God, Pace, I missed you so much."
"Missed you, too," Pacey mumbled against her sternum. The straps of her dress slithered down and away.
Joey finally freed Pacey of his stupid shirt, and skin met skin in the most right feeling she could remember.
"Monumentally stupid," Pacey whispered into her mouth. Those were the last coherent words he spoke for a long time. The rest was her name and a string of beautiful expletives.
Joey woke the next morning wretchedly sore and mildly disoriented. The body aches came not so much from her activities the night before as from sleeping on the tile entryway of Pacey's beach house. The confusion slipped away as she traced their progress from the restaurant to Pacey's car to the aforementioned entrance.
Pacey's arm wrapped around her, his even breath wafted the hair at the back of her neck. Joey had missed absolutely everything about this feeling. How had she lived without it so long?
Slowly, she twisted her cramped muscles and turned to watch him in the first rays of sun streaming through the wall of windows behind them. A good thing Pacey had pulled the afghan off the couch and over them before passing out, or they'd have given morning joggers an eyeful.
A jog would be nice this morning to loosen the knots. But it would require leaving Pacey's arms. She preferred the floor and Pacey beside her, cramps and all.
Joey loved the boyish, open expression on his face and the way he never turned away from her in sleep. She loved the fall of his lashes across his cheeks, and the old sledding scar on his right cheek. Unable to resist, she pressed a soft kiss to it, then to each of his eyelids, and the tip of his nose. Pacey was smiling when she finished with a kiss to his stubbly chin.
"Morning," he said without opening his eyes. His fingers brushed a soothing rhythm against the skin of her back.
"Morning, sweetheart. Sorry to wake you."
"No, you're not." Pacey's blue eyes flickered open. They still looked drowsy, with little crinkles around the edges, but undeniably happy.
"No, I'm not," Joey agreed. Mindful of morning breath, she placed a chaste, closed-mouth kiss on his lips, then buried her face in his shoulder, breathing him in, relishing the body contact. "I need a shower and a toothbrush, but I don't want to move."
"Keep holding me like this, and I'm going to have to."
Joey was aware of him, thick and straining against her flesh. She giggled and scraped her teeth along Pacey's neck. "Call in sick to work, and I'll take care of that little—" He pinched her. "—substantial problem for you."
"I've already taken two days off this week, don't you remember?"
"Yes, your family had stomach flu, if I recall." Joey started kissing her way down his body. "But now, I think you've caught it. You're burning—" She nipped the ridge of his pelvic bone. "—up." Her mouth went lower still.
Pacey groaned. "Jo, God, Jo, that's...Fuck, you have to stop." He wrapped his hands under her arms and urged her up, much to Joey's dismay.
"I wanted to, Pace." She sat up, annoyed, wrapping the blanket around her naked body.
"And I wanted to let you. You have no idea..." Pacey pulled her back into his arms and buried his face in her hair. "But I'm supposed to take Anders to breakfast this morning."
"Is that all? Call Bessie and tell her you're running late. They won't mind." Joey reached down to loosen the blanket, but Pacey caught her hands.
"I'll mind. He's the only person I've never broken a promise to, and I don't intend to start now."
"Trust you to have such a stupid, wonderful reason." Joey reluctantly disentangled her body from his. She stood and pulled on his hands. "Come on, Witter. Cold showers for everyone."
Pacey invited Joey to join him and Anders for breakfast, but she didn't want to explain to her five-year-old son what Mommy was doing in last night's dress, so she had him drop her off at the apartment instead. She refused to let their goodbye turn morning-after-awkward. She gave him a swift, thorough kiss, then ran inside.
Once in her apartment, Joey discarded the dress for a tank top and yoga pants. She grabbed a yogurt cup for breakfast and called Jen, her usual Sunday morning routine.
"Hey, Joey, what's up?"
"I wouldn't know where to begin. You start. How's everything with you and yours?"
"Big week for Amy—she's sitting up on her own, and she didn't cry when the doorman looked at her. Bad week for Grams—the pain is getting worse, but the stubborn old fool won't take a higher dose of meds. I suggested she try some marijuana and sent her crying to the heavens for my damned soul."
"So proud of Amy, and so, so sorry about Mrs. Ryan. How are you doing?"
"About the same. Another week and I think I'll have the first draft of the masters' thesis from hell ready to send to you and Jack for proofing." Jen's graduate degree had been put on hold for a while with pregnancy and her heart diagnosis, but she'd insisted on finishing it, whatever happened.
"I'll look forward to it."
"Okay, seriously, what's with you? You could barely sound sad about Grams; you make wading through fifty pages of psych experiments looking for typos sound like frolicking with kittens. Under rainbows. You are, dare I say, positively chipper this morning."
"I had sex with Pacey last night." Joey hadn't called her friend with the intention of sharing that news, but she wasn't averse to telling the secret, either. Jen was right; she could not stop smiling.
"Wow. Okay. That was sudden. What about Greg?"
"We broke up."
"You did? When? You didn't tell me about it."
"I couldn't. It only happened last night."
"Shit, Joey! Before, during or after the sex with Pacey?"
"Before, of course. I'm no cheater."
Jen snorted. "You're also not slow on the rebound."
"I thought you'd be happy for me—for us."
"Of course I am. I'm just a bit confused. Maybe if you ran me through the sequence of events, I'd understand better. And don't spare on the pervy parts. I'm approaching a yearlong dry-spell."
Joey told Jen all that had happened over the week, from the moment Anders got sick. But she did leave out most of the details of her night with Pacey. She wanted to be able to look Jen in the eye again.
"Yeah, no," Jen said when Joey finished her story. "I love you both, and I don't want to judge, but Pacey is the last person on earth you can have a sex-fueled rebound fling with."
"That's not what this is."
"Are you sure about that? And, if you are, are you sure Pacey knows that? Because it sounds to me like he's in the dark about a lot of things here."
"Like what?"
"Like why you didn't tell him about the baby. Like how much you love him, and how you never got over him. Like why you jumped his bones last night."
"He doesn't want to focus on the past, Jen. He said so. He wants to focus on the future, and, frankly, so do I." Bringing up her lies about Anders would only drive Pacey away again.
"You won't have a future if you don't face up and tell that man the truth."
The outer door buzzed. "That's them at the door. Thanks for the advice, Jen. Love to all. Talk to you soon. Bye." She hung up on Jen's spluttering, then used the intercom to confirm it was her boys and let them up.
Joey's heart fluttered with each step on the stairs. She flung open the door as Anders reached the landing. "Hey, sweetie, have a nice breakfast?"
"Sure. We fed toast to the seagulls at the beach. Can I watch TV?"
"One program. Then we'll go to the park. It's a beautiful day."
"'Kay, Mom." Anders said goodbye to his dad and headed for the television set.
Joey noticed that Pacey waited on the landing, once again reluctant to enter her space. A wave of foreboding seized her. Jen couldn't be right, damn it. "I don't suppose you'd like to join us at the park?"
"Sorry. I have to work, remember?" Pacey eyed her warily, as if he regretted last night—or as if he expected her to regret it.
"Would you, would you like to come over after work?" Joey hated the small, needy quality to her voice.
Pacey hesitated. "I'm there 'til ten tonight. Anders will be in bed; you have school in the morning. I'm not sure—"
"I am. I am sure." Joey hoped he understood she meant about much more than his stopping over tonight. "Please."
"If you want me to."
"I want you." She let the preposition slide.
Joey kept herself and Anders busy all day, first playing at the park, then running the week's errands. She was jittery, afraid to slow down enough to think about Jen's warnings.
They kept intruding, no matter how many other things she gave herself to think about. While grocery shopping, fixing dinner, paying bills, two thoughts remained central in her mind: how much she loved Pacey, and how easily she could lose him.
Did he think this was just a fling? Did he want it to be? Joey knew Pacey desired her, but did he love her? If she told him the whole truth, would he love her then?
A hundred questions like these swirled around her head. She was absent-minded enough to grab the wrong book off the shelf before reading to Anders that night.
"Not that one, Mom. Fairy tales are for babies."
Joey looked down at the copy of Andersen's Fairy Tales in her hand. She traced the embossed letters with her index finger, then put the volume away and grabbed Bunnicula.
It was a quarter after ten when Pacey arrived. With Anders long asleep, Joey buzzed him in without the bother of the intercom. Pacey looked exhausted, and he reeked of fish. She took his hand, pulled him into the apartment and into her arms. He let his head fall forward into the curve of her neck; his arms wrapped around her and pulled her close. They stood that way for long minutes.
Finally, Joey came back to awareness. "Have you eaten? Do you want anything?"
She felt Pacey's head shake against her shoulder. "Ate at the restaurant." His hands, which had til now been comforting and platonic, began to wander under Joey's shirt. He placed light kisses on all the skin in his reach.
Joey's fingers tightened in his hair, but she tried to stay in control this time. "How 'bout a glass of wine?"
Pacey pulled back. His thumbs traced the lines of her collarbone from the center out, and he watched their progress intently. "You make me feel more drunk than the finest bottle of Burgundy."
"Is that supposed to be a compliment? You used to be better at them." But Joey was blushing as she grabbed the sides of Pacey's shirt and pulled him back towards her room.
"Mmm, out of practice." Pacey cradled her face in his hands and kissed her, long and intense.
Joey kept backing them up, until she hit a wall and had nothing to do but focus on the way Pacey's touch made her feel. He was right; it was like being drunk. "Some things come right back, though."
Pacey braced his hands on the wall above her head. He leaned his forehead against hers, breathing hard. "Jo, I think—"
"We need to talk about this," she finished for him. "And we will. But right now," she peppered kisses across his face, "right now, it's late, and we're tired, and I want you." She whispered throatily in his ear, "Come to bed, Pace."
Eyes black with desire, Pacey nodded. Joey took him by the hand and led him into her room.
Afterwards, Joey rolled out of bed to grab some pajamas from her dresser.
Pacey watched bemusedly. "Going somewhere, Jo?"
"No. Anders doesn't often run into my room in the mornings anymore, but if he does, I'd rather not be butt naked."
"Oh. Right." Pacey reached for his boxers. "Should I, should I go then?"
Joey froze, her tank-top around her neck, breasts bare. "Do you want to go?"
"No. I just...don't know how you usually handle this. Is Anders used to Greg here in the mornings? Will it be weird for him?"
"I never slept with Greg here," Joey admitted, not looking at Pacey. She finished yanking on her shirt. "So the matter never came up."
"Jo." Her name was an intimate caress. It brought her gaze to his. The soft look in Pacey's eyes matched the tone of his voice. He was only on the other side of the bed, and he felt too far away.
She knelt on the bed, hand outstretched to him. "Stay, please."
Pacey took her hand, interlacing their fingers. He, too, knelt on the bed, mirroring her position. "Anders?"
Joey shrugged. "It's okay for mommies and daddies to sleep in the same bed. He knows that."
Pacey found her other hand as well. He leaned forward and kissed her brow. "Okay, Mommy. Let's go to bed."
In all the years of her life, Joey had never hated her alarm clock more. Two nights in a row of strenuous, after-hours activity made six o'clock a hellish time to wake.
Pacey groaned and reached for her when she got up. He caught her hand in his. Joey turned back, using her free hand to smooth his rumpled hair.
"I have to turn it off, or it will keep making that noise."
Pacey abruptly released her. Joey crossed the room to end the shrieking on her dresser. "Why'd you put it so far away, anyway?"
"So I couldn't roll over and go back to sleep. You can, if you want. I'm going to take a shower. Anders will be up soon. I'd...I'd appreciate if you waited to join him until I'm done. This is new territory for me, too."
The mention of Anders brought Pacey fully awake. "Sure thing, Jo, whatever you want." He watched her gather clothes for the day. "I suppose communal showers are out, huh?"
"Don't push your luck, Witter." Joey threw a pillow at him before ducking out of the room and shutting the door behind her.
She nearly tripped over Anders in the hallway. He was rubbing his eyes, still in his pajamas. "Who were you talking to, Mom?"
Panic. Immediate panic. This was not how she envisioned this explanation occurring. For starters, Joey would be dressed. They would all be gathered around the kitchen table, and it would be a Hallmark commercial moment.
"Mommy?"
"Uh, your father, he, um, spent the night."
"Dad's here?" Anders lit up. He raced past Joey, threw open the door, and jumped on the Pacey-sized lump on the bed. "Hey, Dad, when'd you get here? Was I already asleep? Why'd you sleep in Mom's room? You should have made a fort like last time. That was awesome! Can we do it again?"
Pacey sat up, blinking owlishly down at his son, then glancing up at Joey, who lingered in the doorway. "Uh, no forts this morning, kiddo. Gotta get ready for school." He wisely didn't touch the rest of the questions.
Joey smiled as she headed for the bathroom.
When she emerged half an hour later, once again the smells of coffee and bacon greeted her, along with the sound of Anders' jabbering. Joey paused, savoring the sight of Pacey padding barefoot around her kitchen, in boxers and a t-shirt.
He caught her eye and smiled. "Hey." He crossed the room to her, put a hand to her waist and was about to kiss her, when he recalled Anders' presence and pulled away. "Mind if I grab a quick shower before we head out?"
"Not at all. Towels are in the hall closet." Joey badly wanted to complete that kiss, but knew Pacey was right. They needed to talk this out before they brought Anders into it any farther.
Joey took the seat across from her son and helped herself to pancakes and bacon. She brainstormed with Anders for a few minutes on the favorite animal project his teacher had assigned him, but he seemed as distracted as she was.
"Are you sick again, Mom?"
"No. What makes you ask that?"
"The last time Dad came over, you were sick."
"Oh, right. No, I'm fine, sweetie. You don't get stomach flu more than once a season."
"I know that." Anders rolled his eyes, as though he couldn't believe how stupid his mother thought him. "I thought it might be a baby."
Joey choked on her pancake. "Wh-what?" she spluttered through the hacking.
"Alex says Aunt Bessie throws up all of the time because of his baby brother in her tummy. I thought maybe you and Dad were going to have another baby."
"No, no, no, not at all, no."
Too late, Joey became aware of Pacey's footsteps walking back down the hall. He was dressed now, in his uniform, but his towel-dried hair had not been combed. He sat down on the couch to pull his boots on without a word or glance for her.
"Oh. Then why'd you sleep over, Dad?"
"I was tired after work."
"But your house is closer."
"Mom's is warmer. Now, brush your teeth and grab your backpack. You're gonna be late for school."
There was a weird vibe in the room with Anders gone. Joey cleared the dishes and put the excess food away. "Thank you for breakfast, Pacey," she said formally. "It was delicious, as always."
"You're welcome." Pacey's eyes followed her around the kitchen. They were unaccountably sad. "Jo, will you go out with me tonight?"
Joey paused with the refrigerator door wide open. "Go out? On, like, a date?"
"Yeah, somewhere with food I didn't cook, and people, and maybe some music, where we can talk."
Joey understood what Pacey didn't add. Where there were witnesses to keep them from falling back into bed before they'd figured out where they stood. "I'd love to. I'll see if Bess can take Anders for the night."
"Great." His tone was dejected. "Pick you up at six?"
Joey walked over to him. "Your word says great. Your face says I just killed your puppy." She pulled on the hem of his shirt. "What's the matter, Pace?"
"Ready!" Anders popped up between them.
"Okay, kiddo, let's go." Pacey lifted his son over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and carried him, squealing, down the stairs.
She followed slowly, dread gripping her stomach.
Joey wanted to look nice for her first official date with Pacey, but her limited wardrobe didn't offer many options. The red dress was too fancy for anywhere in Capeside, her black had seen better days since their escapades the other night, the white and yellow ones were both too light for the cool evening, and the burgundy's high waist made her look too girlish. By process of elimination, she landed on a green dress with a red leaf pattern. She worried the high neck and long sleeves made her look too matronly, but it fit well and emphasized her long legs. It would have to do.
When Pacey buzzed, she ran down to meet him, rather than drag him up and down the stairs.
Pacey whistled appreciatively when he saw her. "Now I know why you didn't invite me in, Potter. We'd never have left the apartment."
Joey blushed at the compliment and smiled to see that Pacey's weird mood had dissipated. "Right back atcha, mister." She grabbed the open collar of his blue button-down shirt and pulled him in for a hello kiss.
"Mmm, you smell good, too," she said when they parted.
Pacey chuckled and kissed her nose. "You're easily impressed, Jo. Anything other than fish is good to you."
Their fingers laced together during the short walk to his car. It felt completely natural.
"I can't deny I'm looking forward to the era of the Ice House, if for no other reason than that."
"Ah yes, those tantalizing aromas of stale beer and grill char," Pacey teased, as he opened the passenger door and gave her a hand in.
"How is the restaurant coming along?" Joey asked when Pacey slid in the other side.
"Good. I'm hoping New Year's Eve for the opening. Chinese okay for dinner?"
"Sure."
Pacey talked about the Ice House on the way. They argued about entrees until the waiter came. Once their orders were taken, though, Pacey's easy good humor fell away.
"We have to talk about this, Jo."
"I know." Joey played with the cloth napkin in her lap. She wished he would at least take her hand.
"We have a kid together. If this goes wrong, he could get hurt, too. That can't happen."
"You think this is going to go wrong?"
Pacey rearranged sugar packets. "I don't know what this is. What do you want from me, Jo?" He looked up at her, eyes pleading.
Joey wanted what she had always wanted, what she had set her heart on a long time ago, on a spring day by the True Love. She wanted Pacey to love her. But she could hardly answer that way. "What do you want?" she asked instead.
"I want not to screw-up my life—or yours—again. I don't know if you've noticed, but it's been going pretty well—remarkably well—for me since I came home. With work, with Anders, even with my family. And with you...it's taken us months to feel like friends again."
Her heart sank. "You want to be just friends?"
"I can never be 'just' anything with you, Jo. Even when I tried hating you, I still wanted you. But I need to know where I stand."
"So you can brace yourself for when it all falls apart, you mean."
Pacey looked surprised at her response, but he didn't deny it. Their food arrived before he said anything at all.
Over her beef and broccoli, Joey surveyed Pacey's miserable face. She was being entirely unfair to him, this man she loved. She expected him to put his heart on the line, but was terrified to do the same herself.
"I don't want a fling," she admitted.
Pacey's head shot up. "What?"
"This, us," she gestured between them, "whatever it is, it is not a fling. After you left, it took me years to give up on the idea of you, even longer to let myself think about loving somebody else. And the second I saw you again, none of that mattered. You were all I wanted."
Finally, Pacey reached for her hand. He pulled it to his lips and kissed her knuckles. "I've tried forgetting you in other women, even got married once, idiot that I am. I've tried running from it, burying it, ignoring it. Until I gave up and just accepted it—I love you, Joey. I have always, always loved you. It's the inescapable truth of my life."
Tears stung her eyes. The knowledge that, whatever happened, Pacey deserved the same honesty from her brought the truth to Joey's lips at last. "It wasn't because I thought you were irresponsible."
"What?" Pacey looked confused by her non-sequitur.
"When I didn't tell you I was pregnant, it wasn't what Doug told you. I never thought you were too irresponsible. The opposite, in fact. I knew you'd stay to do right by the baby, and in my selfish, screwy head, that was trapping you, when I wanted you to stay because you loved me."
Pacey took a deep breath, let it go. "Okay."
"That's it? Okay? Aren't you going to scream at me and take back everything you said?"
"I'd only take it back if it wasn't true anymore. Look, everything about missing those years with Anders, and with you, sucks. But we can't undo that, and I don't feel like wasting any more time being angry about it."
"I love you. Have I said that? You're perfect, and I love you."
"Hold that thought. There's one more thing we need to clear up."
Joey bit her lip. Her shiny happiness balloon sprang a slow leak. "What's that?"
"This morning, your reaction to Anders' question about a kid, was that about now, specifically, or never, you're done having kids?"
Joey laughed in sheer relief. "That was about the horror of discussing babies with a five-year-old." She sobered and eyed him speculatively. "Do you want more kids?"
"It's way too soon to be talking about this, I know, but...since I met Anders, I think about it a lot, all the things I missed, first steps and first words, the day he was born, getting to hold that tiny little boy and know we made him."
"I'm sorry, Pace." She squeezed his fingers.
Pacey waved away her apology. "Don't be. It's in the past. But in the future? I want to be there."
"You will be," Joey promised.
I.
They returned to Boston for only a short time. Pacey gave notice; they put the house up for sale. Joey tried to balance two, young, demanding children with work and packing. They went house-hunting in Capeside and its environs and started on the masses of paperwork necessary to make the Ice House dream a reality.
In less time than Joey supposed possible, they had moved their family into a creekside fixer-upper Pacey insisted had potential. He might be right, but it also had ants, a wobbly staircase, and water damage. Pacey threw himself into projects at home and at the restaurant. Joey saw him less, but when she did, he was brimming with excitement. A worthwhile trade-off, in her opinion.
She took on as many illustration projects as she could, in addition to working on her own books. Even knowing she was likely to be the sole provider for the foreseeable future, Joey wasn't worried. Or she tried not to be.
Anders was over the moon to be so close to his cousins and Lily Leery. Joey looked forward to the day he was old enough to row a boat across the creek.
Their house came with an old bench facing the water. On warm, mellow evenings, when the stars shone down with comforting familiarity, when Pacey was home from work, and the kids were sound asleep in their beds, Joey would sit on the bench beside her husband. They would talk about their days, all the little details they had missed, or they would sit, exhausted but content, and listen to the water as it flowed past their feet.
One night, Joey thought about Mr. and Mrs. Ryan and their lifetime watching the creek go by. She laid her head on Pacey's shoulder and told him, "We're the exception."
IV.
They never did sit Anders down and explain to him that Mommy and Daddy were together now. There wasn't a need. He accepted their shared bed and shared lives, as easily as he loved Pacey just for being on the other side of the door.
They did the back-and-forth routine for a while. But when Joey's lease on her apartment ran out, she didn't renew it. She and Anders moved in with Pacey, while they saved for a dream home together.
The Ice House did open on New Year's Eve, though the amazing food at the party was overshadowed by the town sheriff coming out by kissing his boyfriend at midnight in front of most of Capeside.
Dawson seemed genuine in his happiness for Joey and Pacey. But Sam ended up with Colby.
Jen and Grams returned to Capeside in the spring. Mrs. Ryan was nearing the end and wanted to be near her lifelong friends and the grave of her husband, next to whom she meant to lie for eternity. There was nothing more the doctors could do for her.
They couldn't do much for Jen, either. "Not unless the heart transplant comes through," Jen told Joey as she rested on the porch of the beach house. "And it seems wrong to hope for that, for someone else to die so I can live."
"It does seem wrong, and yet I want that, Jen." Tears flowed down Joey's face. "I don't want to lose you."
"Stop that blubbering, or you won't be my best friend anymore."
Joey laughed, obediently wiping her tears away. "Jack's your best friend, but I'm honored to be a close second."
"I had my will drawn up before we left New York." There was the slightest quaver in Jen's voice, as she added, "I'm leaving Amy to Jack. You're the best mom I know, but—our country being what it is—this may be Jack's best shot at a child. You understand, don't you?"
"Understand and approve. You're leaving her in the best possible hands. Just don't leave her too soon, okay?"
II.
The phone call came in the middle of the night, only a few weeks before they anticipated making some late night calls of their own. It was from Jack, and Jen was dead. They hadn't even known she was sick.
Pacey and Joey drove down to Capeside for the funeral, even though Joey wasn't supposed to travel. Dawson and Audrey flew in from L.A. Andie sat beside her inconsolable brother. Mrs. Ryan held Jen's tiny daughter. Joey couldn't stop crying; she usually blamed hormones, but not for this.
The backache she'd had all day was undeniably labor pains by the end of the wake. Joey's baby was born in Capeside; though, unlike her sister, she had the benefit of a hospital bed and the conveniences of modern medicine. It seemed wrong to feel such joy in the midst of so much sorrow, but the emotions mingled inextricably the first time she held her son in her arms.
Their friends all stopped by to see the baby, to grab a bit of happiness in the midst of their own grief. Even Mrs. Ryan visited.
Joey asked her blessing on the name they'd chosen. "We want to call him Lindley."
Mrs. Ryan cried and kissed his waxy forehead. "The Lord giveth, and the Lord taketh away," she choked. "Lindley. It's a good name. I think Jennifer would be honored."
"I'm sorry it happened like this," Pacey said later, when it was just the three of them. He looked down at sleeping Lindley in awe. "But I'll never be sorry we had him."
"I'm not sorry about anything, except that Jen couldn't be here to meet him, to see her own baby girl grow up." A sob rose in her throat at the thought of the motherless girl. "We have to treasure him. Every minute." She ran her fingertips across her son's impossibly soft, downy skin. "There's no guarantee we'll have another."
"Treasure him." Pacey brushed a kiss against the infant's forehead, and another across Joey's brow. "Treasure you. I can do that."
Joey curled into his side and watched their baby breathe.
IV.
Joey was exiting the doctor's office when Pacey called. He was frantic, didn't make any sense. Someone had died. For a horrifying moment, she was sure it was Jen. But it wasn't Jen. Someone at the Ice House, an organ donor, and a match for Jen. They were airlifting Jen and the heart to Boston for surgery. Pacey was on his way to pick Joey up now.
Once they were both in the car, headed for Boston, Pacey clarified the chain of events. "I heard the screaming and raced out, saw her on the ground. My first thought was allergic reaction, every chef's worst nightmare. But the lady's husband was the calmest person there. Aneurysm, he said, and call 911, she's a donor." Pacey shook his head in disbelief. "All those years they lived, knowing it could happen any moment. And I saw her die, the woman who is going to save Jen's life."
Joey said nothing, just placed her hand on the back of his neck, played with the strands of his hair, while he drove.
Mrs. Ryan and Jack were already there when Joey and Pacey arrived. Jen's mother was on her way; Doug had volunteered to meet her train. Amy was back in Capeside with the Leerys; Anders, with Joey's sister.
Even if everything went well, they were in for a long wait during the surgery, and a longer one afterwards, to see if infection would set in or if Jen's body would accept the new heart. Mrs. Ryan asked Jack to take her to the hospital chapel. Pacey and Joey took their places in the waiting room.
Joey laid her head on Pacey's shoulder, her hand on his arm. He covered it with his other hand.
"It was only a year ago we were waiting for her to have the baby, and now this," Joey mused.
"It makes you reevaluate life, doesn't it? How important it is to snap up every second of happiness while we can. Jo—"
"I'm pregnant," said Joey, at the exact moment Pacey said, "Marry me."
They pulled back to look at each other, assessing, nodding, smiling, crying, laughing. Pacey hugged her tight, dropping kisses all over her face. They were getting odd looks from the other people in the room, but Joey didn't care. She kissed him back and thanked God for miracles.
III.
Their baby came with the first spring rains. Bessie and Bodie and family were there, Jack and Doug, Audrey and her latest boy toy, Dawson and Amy, Jen and her new, working heart.
Joey named her daughter Grace. An undeserved gift.
II.
The red dragon soared gracefully through the sky, while the blue bird dragged on the ground.
"You've got to loosen the line," Joey called to her daughter. "And give it a running start."
The pudgy, dark-haired girl followed her instructions and soon had her kite in the air beside her brother's.
Joey headed back to her towel and their little claimed spot on the beach. Pacey was grinning up at her. "What?"
"Nothing." He leaned back on the towel, hands behind his head, and watched the kites fly.
I.
They celebrated their tenth wedding anniversary with a trip to Paris. Like most things in life, Joey's dreams and the reality did not align. The airline lost their luggage, the Seine smelled of sewage, and that stereotype of French people hating tourists? One hundred percent accurate.
They climbed the Eiffel Tower and looked out over the City of Lights.
"Any regrets, Jo?"
She wrapped her arms around him. "Not a one."
Epilogue
The night was dark, but the moon was bright. The sailboat dropped anchor in a peaceful little cove, unpolluted by man-made lights. They pulled the mattresses up on deck, and the children—numbers, names and ages varied, but their existence never did—lay down between them.
This was the ending of all the stories, though the fairy tales would put it a different way, something about happily ever after.
Joey didn't believe in "ever after." True happiness was found in appreciating life moment by moment. She listened to the sea lap against the hull, felt the breeze tickle her face, and helped her family count the stars.
fin
Author's Notes: Where to start? First of all, special thanks to Jaycie Victory and her unbelievably kind reviews. Thanks to everyone else who reviewed. And while I'm at it, thanks to everyone who spent their valuable time reading this story, even if they didn't leave a review.
I first got the idea for this story while re-watching "Late" and being frustrated at the after-school special plot to remind teenage viewers that Sex Is Bad and to drive another nail in the PJ relationship coffin. I started thinking what would have happened if Joey had been pregnant. My first thought was abortion, and so the plotline which ended up being III started forming in my head. But the draw of Daddy!Pacey was too strong, and I started thinking about what would happen if she kept the baby, and the whole sliding doors concept was born. (I even had a few adoption plotlines in my head at the start, but that became too convoluted even for me.)
Writing this story was such an incredible experience for me. It's the first long story I've managed to finish in over a decade, and it has completely revolutionized the way I look at fanfic. At least writing my own. I wrote it, knowing it would mostly be going into a vacuum, that there wasn't really a call for novel-length stories about characters from a show that aired twenty years ago. So it wasn't written for view counts or reviews; it was written because a story got in my head and had to get out.
I'm about 15k into my next Pacey/Joey epic, and have several more outlined. But I have abandoned the guilt and frustration that comes with permanent WIPs, so I'll only post when/if they're finished in hopes of keeping this my favorite fandom experience of all time.
Thank you all for joining Joey and Pacey (and me) on this journey.