I was only planning to go back to this after finishing Tangled Web, but all the Jack hype lately made me really want to post this before the episode tonight. So, this update is happening a little ahead of schedule!
Quick reminder - this story takes place some time during the previous fall, maybe October or November (because that's when I started it...). The present timeline won't matter so much, since after this chapter we're finally getting into background-story territory - but there are enough references in this chapter that it might get confusing without the correct time frame.
Thanks to everyone reading this :).
Days Like These, pt. 5
Rusty had asked if she was okay with Jack leaving.
She'd replied that Jack had been leaving for a very long time, and at least this time it had been a mutual decision and she'd know where to find him.
On the latter count, the next three days proved her wrong.
" –you're certain that he hasn't been back? No, I already have his cell number, thank you. What – I'm not calling from a collection agency... " Ugh. Glancing through her office glass at the murder room beyond, Sharon forced herself to lower her voice. "No, no I don't want to leave a message. Thank you." She ended the call with a frustrated press on the screen, and place the phone back on her desk. "Damn it!"
Jack was nowhere to be found.
He was screening her calls. He'd ignored her two emails. His old place in Vegas was a dead end, and of course he hadn't left her a contact address in town. Short of calling all hotels in LA, she had no way to get a hold of him – and the feeling was so familiar that she wanted to scream.
After he'd left that night, Sharon had been almost glad for the reprieve. Bringing up the divorce had been … difficult. A mess. She'd needed a breather – and so when Jack didn't contact her the next day, she'd been grateful instead of suspicious. Maybe he was giving things some thought, too; she hadn't had the energy to wonder otherwise. Part of her had been all too willing to let the issue sit for a day.
But the day after, she'd called him.
And called him.
He'd just dropped off the face of the Earth.
She might've been more worried, once, had this not been exactly his MO for years. At the back of her mind, she kicked herself for not having seen it coming; after all, when Jack felt that things between them weren't unfolding to his satisfaction, he always had the same response. Take off. Ignore it. Come back later and expect matters to have somehow become fixed on their own. How many times had Sharon found herself, in the wake of some unresolved argument, abruptly left with no one to argue with the next day?
"Damn you, Jack," she growled under her breath, then immediately felt bad, because no matter what, cursing people wasn't something that felt right, especially the father of her children, and so Sharon took it back in her mind, even though her fingers were still curled angrily around the phone.
But she still had to get a hold of him. Arrangements had to be worked out, protocols followed, papers signed. All of it exponentially more difficult to do without his cooperation. Jack knew that. He probably knew exactly what he was doing.
A cold weight swirled painfully in her stomach.
Should she try his cell more? Pointless. He was clearly aware by now that she wanted to talk. Calling Jack's phone over and over in vain only brought back more depressingly familiar frustrations. The old feeling of uncertainty. Another instance of not knowing which way to turn. She'd thought she'd gotten over all of that a long time ago. She hated having to deal with it again, she hated it.
But there was no choice this time. She had to get a hold of Jack, or things wouldn't get done.
And he knew that, damn it, Jack knew that and he was still ignoring her attempts to contact him.
Sharon stared at the dark phone screen.
Would he have gotten a new apartment? Gone to his brother's? The Best Western down the road…? There were so many places to look. Oh, God, the sensation was so familiar, so sickeningly familiar. Had she really put herself in the same position again?
Swallowing hard, she picked up the phone and dialed once more.
She had to get a hold of him. Yes.
But…
A click on the other end, then – "Hello, dear."
…but her days of calling around hotels looking for her absent husband were long over. And she wasn't going to do that dance again. Ever.
The night that Jack had showed up again, Sharon had been too tired and preoccupied – and, frankly, baffled at his appearance – to process much of what he was saying. But the next morning he'd still been there when she'd come out of her bedroom, and faced with proof that it hadn't all just been a stress-induced nightmare, she'd had to start dealing with him.
Somehow, falling into their old routine had felt harder, this time. Maybe he'd pushed more, maybe she'd been less willing, Sharon didn't know. She couldn't tell at which point she'd stopped feeling her usual mixture of mild irritation and resignation at his presence, and started getting genuinely upset.
It might have begun when Jack proudly restated his intention to mend the fences, and assured that he'd forgiven her for the humiliation that she'd put him through with the Javier Reyes case. Or maybe it had been when he'd asked about the reason for her dark mood the previous night, and if she was feeling lonely. He couldn't blame her, he'd said. There came a time in life, especially at their age, when one really started thinking about their choices, you know?
But the real storm had come the next day. The next day, when he'd shown up in the murder room despite her express instructions to the contrary. Wearing his charming smile as he started volunteering to help Rusty with the career project at school, chatting and prying, growing more insistent the more Sharon resisted, his comments turning pointed as her mood darkened, his jokes wry as she lost her patience, and so one thing had led to another, and…
The line had been crossed, and everything else had followed from that.
Sharon grimaced a little painfully and greeted, "Gavin."
He could probably hear it in her voice.
"Ah. So you told dear old Jack about the divorce."
She sighed. "I did."
"Well, then." There was a moment of silence. " I assume he's emigrated to a small Pacific nation by now."
"Gavin."
"Don't worry, I'm not going to say 'I told you so' – although from now on, let's remember that on the rare occasions when I volunteer to serve papers, it's usually for a good reason, hm?" He paused for a moment, then sighed at her continued silence. "Alright. Well. Don't fret, you know I always have contingency plans. I assume, of course, that now you'll let me do this my way…?"
What could she say? It was either that, or continuing to chase down Jack by herself, and that was just not an avenue she ever wanted to take again. "I don't know how you'll get him served with papers," she murmured defeatedly, "I'm not even sure what his current address is… and he won't pick up the phone." Ridiculously, the admission made her feel embarrassed, like it was somehow her fault that Jack was behaving like this. Of course, the rational part of her knew that it wasn't, that this was just how he worked and he'd probably get over his tantrum eventually and resurface, but… "Gavin, I'm sorry to be making you deal with –"
"Sorry dear, my way doesn't include inane apologies," he informed her. "Why don't you forward me all the contact information that you have, and let me worry about digging out your – God-willing, soon to be ex – husband from under whatever rock he's crawled to this time."
Sharon grimaced again. Was this really what she wanted?
"You can email me the information. Oh, and would you include his social security number please?" Gavin added as an afterthought.
"What…?" She frowned. "Why would you need that?"
"Hm. Let's just say that there are certain agencies that are particularly good at tracking down people. Particularly people with Jack's… financial pedigree."
Oh God. "Gavin – "
"Ah! My way, remember?"
"If you just get the papers ready, I can find Jack and serve –"
"I'm afraid I have to go now, Captain," said Gavin in a falsely apologetic tone, "I have dinner in the oven. And when the people I'm trying to help insist on disagreeing with me, I get indigestion."
Sharon ignored his jab. "I don't want you to sic credit agencies or the IRS on Jack," she told him firmly. "Or any other institutions, financial or otherwise."
"I'm only planning to give him a little extra incentive, to show up and work with us on those divorce agreements."
"No." She shook her head, even though he couldn't see her. "No, I want this done… easily. For both of us. I'm not trying to target Jack, Gavin. This isn't about that."
"I know, dear." He sounded more serious, saying that; then his tone turned wry again. "The problem here is that things can only be done 'easily' if both of you cooperate – and the gentleman seems to have pulled another disappearing act."
"I don't think so…" Sharon pinched the bridge of her nose between two fingers. "I think he's just… processing. The truth is, we should give this another couple of days. Jack can't have dropped off the face of the Earth," she reasoned. "Sooner or later he'll have to either show up, or return my calls."
A dubious hum came from the other end of the phone. "I'm sorry, when you said you wanted a divorce, did you mean, 'in some distant nebulous future'? Because if that's the case, I might want to start thinking about charging you a retainer for this."
She couldn't find a timely reply to that, and so she just said nothing.
Truth be told, she'd been furious at Jack only five minutes before. But somehow, talking to Gavin, it had all gotten turned around and now she was feeling bad for him again. It was…
…complicated.
On the other end, Gavin sighed. "You know, our attorney-client relationship would be a lot smoother if you'd stop being so aggravatingly nice to the man we're trying to divorce here."
She huffed a dry laugh, at that. "Somehow, I don't think Jack feels that I'm being particularly nice."
"Hm. Perhaps we should go for the proven mental instability argument in the proceedings," the lawyer returned. "We wouldn't need his signature, then."
Gavin had ended the call with a reminder to email him the information he needed, and a reluctant promise to steer clear of overly aggressive measures to ensure Jack's cooperation. He'd also asked her to remember why she was doing this in the first place.
I usually need to encourage my clients to act less angry and impulsive – but in your case, dear…
She saw his point, but somehow getting angrier didn't seem like the right solution.
Sharon was aware that she was being uncharacteristically inconsistent about the whole thing, but it was a hard instinct to fight. She wanted to divorce Jack – she'd entertained the notion over the years plenty of times, and now she felt that she was finally at a place in her life where going through with it just… made sense. Things were lining up that way. Her life had changed in ways that she couldn't have anticipated ten years, five, or even one year before; everything was just falling into place to make this the right decision.
But she didn't want to make things harder for Jack, either. This divorce wasn't some sort of revenge quest. She just wanted… out. A painless, clean break.
Obviously that was a fantasy.
With a sigh, she dropped the phone back in her purse and leaned her forehead against her clasped hands.
The inevitable resentment and hurt feelings were one of the reasons that she hadn't pushed for divorce earlier. Why invite drama that wasn't necessary? Why tack more hurt and bitterness to the already long string of mutual disappointments that had been her marriage to Jack? This separation had worked for both of them for two decades – not always perfectly, yes, but it was… under control. Now, she was rocking the boat. Upsetting the status quo. In their elaborate dance, this was clearly a breach of the rules.
But she also really wanted this to happen.
It may have taken a momentary flare of temper to get her to take the final step, but there was a reason that Gavin had had the divorce papers for years. Somewhere at the back of her mind, this was always going to happen sooner or later, and – well, it was happening now. This was the right time, and it was the right decision, and Sharon knew that despite her misgivings, and if digging up some of her anger was what it took to propel her through it, well…
… it wasn't as though she didn't have enough reasons to be angry.
She went over it in her head as she drove home, her eyes following the road while her mind half-wandered, back to the day that had precipitated everything.
The irony was, she hadn't even gotten mad at Jack on her own account, this time.
Or – not at first, at least. Once they'd started getting into it, the topics of conversation had gotten a little blurry. But at first, she'd tried to keep Jack out because the last time that he'd been around, he'd gotten Rusty to count on him, and then he'd taken off without a word and for that, Sharon still very much held a grudge. On Rusty's behalf, she was more than happy to shut Jack down in ways that she wouldn't shut him down for herself.
She could tell that her reception, frostier than usual, had thrown him at first – but he'd regrouped and decided to keep at it, anyway. Why not, after all he'd done worse and she'd let him back in a dozen times over. He'd said worse to her, and she'd glossed over it just the same.
Neither of them, she thought, had expected this to be her last line in the sand.
Three days before…
Jack showed up at the station a little before ten a.m., cornering her in the break room under the guise of wanting to help solve a dilemma that she and Rusty had been discussing over breakfast.
" – can stick with me for the day. I mean I know he's grounded, but frankly the kid looks like he could use an expedition! And if he has to shadow an adult for this school thing, I'm happy to give him an alternative to all the police officers … come on, Sharon," he gave her a knowing look while stirring a packet of sweetener into his coffee, "you can't tell me he's the least bit interested in a career with the police."
"He's not," she acknowledged. "But I also don't think that he's interested in being a lawyer." Or anything else that Jack was, for that matter. "He can shadow Buzz."
"What, and look at crime scene videos all day? Might as well sit the young man down to watch paint dry! I think I can do better than that," he winked. "Little tour of the attorney's office, lunch in the city…"
Sharon offered a tight smile in response. "Rusty isn't going anywhere with you," she reiterated calmly. "Not only is he grounded, he's also under temporary alert status, which means that he needs supervision from adults who are qualified, Jack – which you," she emphasized, "are not."
"Alert, huh? That sounds serious." he smiled at her. "Because he ran away from home? Come on, what teenager doesn't do that sometimes."
She shouldn't have told him, she knew. But the residual awkwardness between her and Rusty would've been hard to miss.
"Most of them, actually," Sharon replied dryly. "But that's not the only reason for the alert, as I've explained to you already. And even if he weren't under special supervision at the moment," she added, "I still wouldn't agree to let Rusty spend the day with you. So stop trying to charm him into it when I'm not looking," she finished with a warning glare.
"I'd never!" His grin failing to win her over, Jack held up both hands in mock surrender. "Okay, alright, but you know the kid would have a great time. Are you sure you won't change your mind? I had a fun day planned," he sang temptingly, "could even throw in a museum or two… you know I make a great tour guide."
The wearing down technique was leaving her unimpressed.
"You're a tough customer, Sharon," Jack informed her good-naturedly. "Okay, last offer. Dinner on me tonight, for you and Rusty. Come on, even you can't say no to that." He winked again. "How about that little bistro down by the French market?"
Her lips pursed imperceptibly. "I'm afraid I can," she told him. "Rusty and I are planning to make dinner at home. So thank you Jack, but no."
He sighed, a prolonged, dramatic sound, and shook his head.
"Alright, alright… I can see when I'm not going to succeed… well, I'll just see you at home for dinner, then." His eyebrows arched jokingly. "Unless, of course, you're free for lunch…?"
"Goodbye, Jack." She picked up her tea mug.
Some trace of levity in her voice must've made him think that she was being droll; he chortled, grabbing his cup of coffee and following her out of the break room.
"You know, say what you will, Sharon," he said as he pulled the door shut behind him, "but that young man needs to get out more. I've seen criminals with more freedom! I mean, I know he's grounded, but don't you think you're being a little strict? I could take him to lunch…"
"It's not a matter of being strict, it's a matter of being safe," she told him, feeling that she was repeating herself for the hundredth time. "Until we catch whoever's been threatening him, Rusty can't go anywhere without his protection detail."
"Well… I suppose they could come, too," Jack joked. "Those two gentlemen from the other night sure looked like they could use a break. Why don't I go ask Rusty, see what he –"
"No." She slowed down in her steps, her tone lowering.
"No?" Jack's eyebrows arched again, noticing the tone switch. "I'm only trying to help you out here, Sharon. I mean, if you need an extra hand with the kid…"
"That's very kind of you, Jack," she deadpanned, "and please don't think that I don't appreciate the belated offer to help with childcare – but I think I've got things under control, at this point."
The corners of his mouth drew downward. "I was only offering to take Rusty out for lunch," he told her, "no need to get defensive, or drag our past issues into everything again…"
She gave him another tight-lipped smile. "Thank you for the offer. But I don't think that's a good idea right now."
His irritated sigh echoed along the empty corridor. "I gotta tell you, Sharon, this isn't exactly a big surprise, but I wish you weren't always so dead-set against me. I thought we agreed that we'd make an effort…"
Now…
Jack's words echoed in her mind as she turned the key in the lock, and she couldn't stop a tired sigh. She'd been losing her patience by that point in the conversation, allowing old resentment to bubble dangerously close to the surface. They did not bring out the best in each other, in these arguments. His expectations were cheated. Her indignation, flared.
It was no wonder that it had all gone even more downhill from there.
Rusty looked up from the sofa when she walked through the door, and despite the many issues weighing on her mind Sharon still found it easy to smile at him.
It made her happy, finding him home, having him there. Just another one of those turns in the road that she hadn't expected.
"Hey." He pushed away one of his thick textbooks, and followed her with his eyes as she put her purse away and took off her heels. "Uh… do you want me to order dinner? That Italian place you like has Thursday specials."
Her smile widened a little. He'd been doing that a lot, over the past couple of weeks. Trying to say he was sorry for what he'd done, obviously – and unnecessarily, too, she already knew that he was sorry… but she appreciated the effort, anyway. In the last couple of days, especially, she'd almost been able to enjoy it. Now that that painful knot in her chest had loosened, and the residual tension between them finally dissipated.
In a way, she really did have Jack to thank for that. Jack and his uncanny talent to pick on her worse insecurities…
Three days before…
"I thought we agreed that we'd make an effort…"
"We didn't agree to anything," Sharon pointed out calmly. "And I'm not set against you. I simply don't want you in any position where you can cheat Rusty's expectations again, and leave him hanging the same way you've done to our children more times than I want to remember."
"For the love of… Sharon, don't start with that again," he pleaded. "I'm trying my best here. Would it kill you to meet me halfway for once? You know, hop down from that high horse of yours and maybe give me a hand?" He spoke the last words with a coaxing half-smile, like he was trying to sweeten the sting of his words by making them into a joke.
It had never really worked that way.
She gave him a long look. "I don't know what you need a hand with, Jack," she said in a quiet tone.
"How about lunch, for starters?" he suggested with another persuasive smile. Then, he sighed. "Look, I'm just trying to spend some time with you and the kid. Could you stop acting like I'm the bad wolf here?"
"That's not my intention," she assured him. "But I'm also not going to put Rusty through the same –"
"'Put him through'? Sharon, you do know it's just lunch –"
" –through the same cycle that you and I have been in for over two decades," she finished over him. "And it's not just lunch. Jack, the truth is, I completely believe in your good intentions," she informed him, "but as far as my experience goes, your best intentions still generally end in the same way – abruptly." Her eyes narrowed. "And it's not my place to express an opinion on that –"
He let out a wry huff.
" – but insofar as I can help it, I'm not planning to let it affect my children anymore."
Jack's response was another huff. "Your children…" He rubbed a hand to his forehead. "You do realize that the kid's not even yours, right? You know – I didn't say anything last time I was here because I didn't want to upset you… I mean I know how you can get, but –"
Her eyes narrowed further, in warning. "I'd tread carefully."
"See, this is exactly what I mean! Jesus, Sharon. Don't talk to me like I'm one of your criminals." He sounded frustrated. "Look, I know you don't like anyone pointing out when you're wrong, but frankly sometimes someone has to, right?"
She sighed again, almost in resignation. "That someone is definitely not you."
"Do you really think you're doing the kid any favors?" he threw his hands in the air. "Or yourself? Because, listen, I gotta tell you… the other night? It was really looking like this situation you've gotten yourself into might be more than you –"
"Jack," she cut him off warningly.
"I know you don't like hearing it, Sharon, but whatever empty nest syndrome you've got going on here, don't you think –"
"That's enough," she snapped, her tone icy.
"He'll turn eighteen eventually and then what exactly do you plan to do? Or didn't you think that far?"
"That's not really any of your business to ask," she retorted. "And Jack – you are the last person in any position to evaluate or question my decisions."
"Well, whether you like it or not Sharon, I'm still your husband," he reminded her, "so don't you think that gives me some right to be concerned, when I see that–"
"No," Sharon said curtly. "Especially not when you express that concern only as a means to further your agenda –"
"'Agenda'? Do you even hear what you're making me sound like?"
"What do you expect me to think, Jack? When you show up out of the blue after months of silence, and try to insinuate yourself into Rusty's life again –"
"How about you think that I'm trying to help," he countered, "because I can see that you've gotten yourself in over your head with this situation, and you're too proud to admit it."
Her jaw dropped in renewed incredulity, but before she could regroup and make another reply, Jack waved a dismissive hand and shook his head in defeat:
"Yeah… alright, alright Sharon I can see that I'm not getting anywhere with you. You can…" he sighed tiredly, "you can relax the death glare, I can take a hint… boy, you really do have a talent for shooting people down with just that one look…" Another sigh and dejected headshake. "You know, I really thought that this time we could both … never mind."
She crossed her arms, letting out a controlled breath in an attempt to rein in her anger again.
" Well, whatever else you might think," said Jack, "I was just trying to help, with Rusty. I mean, God knows I've backed myself into enough corners in my life, I thought I might as well give you a hand with yours… But the way you're acting…"
"I'm not backed into any corners, Jack," she told him in a more composed tone. "And – however helpful your intentions… you can't just drop in again and pick up right where you left off, not with me and especially not with Rusty. He deserves to have people in his life that he can count on."
Now…
It wasn't even the worst fight she'd ever had with Jack. They'd said far worse to each other over the years. But her threshold must have shifted, at some point, without her even noticing.
Maybe with old age did come wisdom.
Or maybe it was because her children were grown, now. Or because life was still surprising her, this late down the line, the unexpected plot twists enough to jar her out of as long as two decades of inertia.
With a sigh, Sharon put her blazer on the back of the sofa, and pulled on a more comfortable sweater, enjoying the soft fabric as it slid up her arms.
"How was your day with Buzz? Did you get enough to complete your assignment for school?"
Rusty's eyebrows arched wryly. "Well, I don't want to be a civilian surveillance specialist for the LAPD," he informed her. "Did you even know that that was what Buzz's job was called?"
Her lips curled a little, again. "I did. So, you're crossing that off your list of career options?"
"Definitely crossing it off. Did you know that he doesn't get any of the police perks, working as a civilian – but he doesn't get the civilian work hours, because he still has to go to crime scenes? And his overtime pay is like, less than that of everyone else on the team."
"You asked Buzz about his paycheck?" she asked in amusement.
"Well, yeah, I mean that's like, the biggest factor – or one of the biggest at least," he sounded serious. "I need to pick a job that pays a lot, because I've got a lot of stuff to pay back."
Sharon gave him a long look for a second. Then she rolled her eyes.
Rusty scratched his neck.
Three days before…
"...however helpful your intentions, you can't just drop in again and pick up right where you left off, not with me and especially not with Rusty. He deserves to have people in his life that he can count on."
"'He' deserves? I didn't hear him complaining about my company," sighed Jack, then arched his eyebrows at her. "Are you sure you're not maybe projecting a little bit here?" At her glacial look, he held up both hands in a defensive gesture again, and pre-empted, "Alright. I get it."
He wiped both hands on his pants, and heaved another bleak sigh.
"Look, Sharon… you know I didn't mean to upset you. I'm sorry if I pointed out things that you didn't want to hear – don't look at me like that again, I'm trying to apologize, alright?"
"Is that what this was?" she deadpanned.
Jack just shook his head, disappointed, "I don't know what you want from me, Sharon."
"Actually," she replied, "I think the question here, Jack, is what you want."
"I already told you… I was just hoping to patch things up from last time…get on better terms, you know? Make an effort. But…" he rubbed his neck with a tired gesture, "I gotta tell you Sharon, you sure aren't making this easy… I mean, do you even want me here?"
The question was so absurd that it took her by surprise; when she opened her mouth, she found no reply ready. Her eyes involuntarily looked away, and silence stretched between them for a long, uncomfortable moment.
Jack's shoulders slumped. "Right…"
Sharon grimaced almost ruefully. "Jack…"
"No, it's alright. I suppose I should be used to it by now. It's always the same story…"
Her lips pressed together. "You left," she said quietly, a tired line that had passed between them a hundred times already.
"Yes… so you delight in reminding me. You know, Sharon…" he shook his head again, with a faraway look, "do you ever wonder if maybe you could've made things just a little easier for me, too? Yes, I know, I know I didn't do things right, you don't need to keep saying it every chance you get… but – did you ever stop to think that maybe you're just not that easy to live with? I mean – hey, look at Rusty," he realized suddenly, waving a hand for extra emphasis. "He left, too. Why do you think that was?"
He left her stunned, breathless from the impact.
Now…
" – yes, but are they like, large cannolis, or the small ones like we got that one time from that place downtown? 'cause I don't think two of those are enough…" One elbow propped on the dining table, Rusty was using his computer to order their dinner. "Do you think we should call and ask?"
Sharon bit back a smile. He was still grounded, she reminded herself. But well… grounded didn't really apply to food… "If they're priced individually, they're probably regular size," she offered. When he still looked doubtful, she added, "You can have mine if they're too small."
He gave her a surreptitious look from underneath his eyelashes.
"That's okay."
But he looked unreasonably happy that she'd offered, and Sharon's chest constricted a little. She wasn't the only one relieved to have things going back to normal between them again.
She'd been so angry that day, with Jack, so angry. She couldn't remember the last time she'd been that angry. Blood had been pounding behind her temples. Even after Jack had caught himself and backepedaled, and Rusty scrambled off to his cubicle, the suffocating indignation hadn't really abated for hours. How could he have said those things – not just to her, but to Rusty as well? Even now, her fingers wanted to clench into fists as she remembered.
She'd wrapped up the fight with Jack with a last few icy comments because that was all that she'd trusted herself to say. The case had take the rest of her day, and then she'd gone into her office, pulled the blinds and called Gavin.
The rest, as they said, was … history.
Jack's latest disappearing act included, unfortunately.
"Sharon…?"
She looked up from the kitchen counter, realizing that she'd spaced out for a moment. The water glass that she'd been pouring into was about to overflow. She put down the pitcher.
"Uh… everything… okay?"
He'd been saying that a lot, lately.
"Yes."
The boy didn't seem entirely satisfied, and he gave her a vaguely uncomfortable look as he fidgeted in his chair. His mouth opened and closed a couple of times.
Sharon sighed.
"Rusty. If there's anything that you'd like to ask me, you can absolutely go ahead. The last thing I want is for you to feel uncomfortable about anything that's going on," she told him, "and feel that you can't talk to me about it."
He grimaced, as if surprised that she'd read his mind. He might have been overconfident in his poker face.
"Did you uh, talk to Jack again?"
"No," she said simply.
It warmed her heart that he cared enough to ask, but seeing his sympathetic look didn't feel so good. "He left again, didn't he?"
Sharon considered the question for a moment. "I don't know. It's possible," she admitted.
"So… you're not gonna divorce him anymore?"
"Oh, no," she shook her head firmly, "I most certainly still intend to. Of course, I'm going to have to get a hold of him first," she amended with a wry nod, "but… I've got some help, and sooner or later Jack's going to have to resurface, so I'm confident that it will all work out." Mostly confident.
Rusty bit his lips, and cleared his throat. "Okay…" He looked back to his computer screen. "So... can we get the garlic breadsticks, too?"
Isn't Jack wonderful?
I can't wait to see what he'll be up to tonight. (from the looks of it, it won't be terrible... but who knows?) Thank you for reading!