#vyonne

Disclaimer:The author of this work claims no ownership of characters aside from the reader, and original secondary characters mentioned. This work is not intended for those under the age of 18 due to explicit sexual content and darker themes. By reading this work or any works on my blog (jtargaryen18), you agree that you are at least 18 years of age. I do not consent to have my work hosted on any third party app or site.

The table was too small for six people. Jim thought that when they first sat down, and he thought it again halfway through the meal. Elbows were brushing, voices overlapping, everyone talking at once. Fallon’s was the sort of place Ted liked, with white tablecloths, dim amber lights, and the hum of expensive conversation. But Ted was paying tonight, so no one complained.

Jim sat between Danielle and Yvonne, across from Chris, Ted, and Ted's girlfriend. They’d all agreed the booth would be cozier. It was. Too cozy.

Ted was in one of his buoyant moods, the kind that made him seem like a man auditioning for a better life. Tall and lean, with slicked-back blond hair and an easy smile, he laughed too often, pouring wine like a host rather than a guest. Every time he laughed, it was at something Danielle said, some shared office story, some inside joke that no one but the two of them understood.

“God, remember that client in Chicago?” Danielle said, laughing. “He sent the contract printed on blue paper. Ted swore it was cursed.”

“It was cursed,” Ted said, grinning. “We lost the account a week later.”

Jim smiled, though he really wasn’t sure why.

Ted's girlfriend smiled too, though hers was smaller, the kind you give when you’re trying to fit in. She reached for her wine glass, then stopped halfway, choosing her water instead. Her fingers trembled just a little.

Yvonne noticed. Of course she did. 

“You all right, love?" Yvonne asked. "You’ve gone quiet.”

“I’m fine,” was all she said. “Just tired... Long week.”

Ted didn’t hear her. Or pretended not to. He was already telling another story. Danielle leaned in, chin resting on her hand, smiling in that soft, polite way she used with coworkers she liked. His girlfriend's face was turned slightly away from the table, her smile gone. She blinked fast, steadying herself. When she looked back at Ted, her expression was smooth again, practiced.

Jim felt something twist in his chest. Recognition.

“Ted’s my favorite,” Danielle always said, half-teasing, half-sincere. “He travels so I don’t have to.” It was true. Danielle hated being away from the kids, and Ted never seemed to mind the long flights, the sterile hotel rooms, and the endless string of conferences and client dinners. He liked the movement, and the change of scenery. That’s where Ted met his girlfriend, during one of those trips to the states. Some corporate summit or product launch, Jim couldn’t remember which.

When Ted brought her up in conversation back then, it had been in that smug, self-effacing way men sometimes do when they know everyone’s listening. “Met someone,” he’d said, smiling into his pint. “She’s gorgeous, works in the IT sector. American, but I’m trying not to hold that against her.”

Well, Jim had to admit she was gorgeous.

Not in the obvious, done-up sort of way. It was in a way that crept up on him and stayed there, uninvited. She was younger than the rest of them, but not by much. Late twenties, maybe early thirties. Her beauty was effortless and natural. She didn't need makeup or designer clothes. Each time Jim saw her, she wore soft sweaters, light blouses, worn-in jeans that hugged her hips just right. Her jewelry was delicate, always silver, like she didn’t want to be noticed but couldn’t quite help it. Thin chains with tiny charms at her throat. Small hoops or studs in her ears. A ring or two on her fingers.

The first time he met her, they all had dinner at his house, and it had been warmer out. She wore sandals that showed off her neat, unpainted toes… and on the smallest one, a silver toe ring with a tiny, clear gem. It caught the light when she laughed, and for some reason, that stupid glint seared itself into his brain.

Later that night, she’d been in his kitchen. Sitting at the table, in his chair, the one he sat in every day to work while the kids were at school. She was smiling at something Ted had said, stretching slightly with one arm up. And her blouse, a soft floral thing, had risen just enough for him to glimpse a sliver of skin at her waist. 

Not just that. A belly button ring. An emerald, small and subtle, had winked at him in the overhead light. He didn’t hear whatever joke they were telling after that. He’d barely breathed. He knew it was ridiculous, how absurd it was that something so minor, so trivial, could lodge itself in his head like that. But it had. And for weeks afterward, it wouldn’t let go. He tried not to think about it. Tried not to think about her. 

But that was the moment. He knew it now. The moment the line started to blur. The ring wasn't just a piece of jewelry. It was a symbol of everything he wasn’t supposed to notice. Everything he’d gone years without noticing in anyone but Danielle.

And maybe… maybe it was the first small crack in the life he’d spent years carefully holding together.

Three months ago, she had moved from America to Dublin. For Ted. That had been the story, too, so romantic, reckless, and brave. Danielle called it “so sweet.” Yvonne said it was “a big step.” Neither Jim nor Chris had anything to say.

Jim hadn’t meant to think about her the way he did, and now that she was here, it was worse. She was just there. A quiet, kind woman who smiled when everyone else was talking. She never tried to be the center of attention or interrupt. There was something inward about her, something polite and careful.

He told himself he was only noticing, not feeling. He was a married man and happy. He worked from home, walked the kids to school, cooked dinner most nights. He’d built a good life, a simple one. Nothing in it was missing. Except...

No, he stopped the thought there. It wasn’t fair, to anyone. Especially her. She was just another person trying to belong somewhere new. And yet, tonight when she looked down, her hand twisting the thin silver necklace she wore, he found himself wondering if she ever felt lonely here. Would Ted even notice if she did?

He took a long drink of water, hoping it would cool the thought before it caught fire.

The waiter cleared plates and poured more wine. Chris was talking now about his office, about some client who’d double-booked an ad slot. Ted made a joke about “rookie mistakes.” Danielle laughed again.

Jim’s phone buzzed in his pocket. Pulling it out, he saw a text from the sitter: Kids asleep. All good. He sent a thumbs-up and set the phone on the table beside his empty glass. She noticed the message light and smiled faintly, polite interest again.

“The kids?” she asked, meeting his gaze.

Jim nodded.

And for a second, he couldn’t look away. Her eyes weren’t just pretty. She had a way of seeing people, like she really meant to know the answer, not just fill the silence. It caught him off guard the same way it had the first time they met. There was no performance. Just… openness. It made him feel exposed.

"How old are they?"

“Ten and twelve,” Jim said, realizing she'd never met them because the two occasions she'd been to dinner at their house, Danielle had arranged for them to go to her parents' house. 

“That’s lovely,” she said softly. “You’re lucky.”

“I know.”

He meant it. He always meant it. But for the first time, it didn’t feel like the whole truth. He forced himself to glance down at his glass. Jesus, he was married.

Ted was ordering dessert now, oblivious. Chocolate fondant for the table. More wine. Ted teased her about her sweet tooth, but there was no warmth in it. She didn’t answer, and when she looked down at her lap, Jim saw her press her napkin to her eyes for just a second, pretending to adjust it.

Danielle caught his eye then, smiling about something Ted had said. Jim smiled back, automatic. The sound of laughter filled the space again, but under it, there was a pulse of something quieter. Something off.

The night had turned colder, and a thin mist hung over the city, softening the streetlights into halos. The restaurant door closed behind them with a muffled chime, and for a moment, everyone hovered on the pavement, the city quiet all around them.

Ted was in high spirits still. Too high, Jim thought. He slipped his card back into his wallet, clapped Chris on the shoulder, and thanked everyone for “a proper evening.” His girlfriend stood beside him, her coat pulled tight, and her gaze fixed on the ground.

Yvonne rubbed her arms against the chill. “You two all set? We’ll drop you back.”

Ted smiled, that easy grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Ah, no. We’ll walk a bit. Clear the head.” He glanced at her then. “Right?”

She nodded automatically, without looking up.

“We’ll grab a taxi home,” Ted added.

It was said casually, but something about it made the group fall silent for half a beat too long. Danielle smiled and looped her arm through Jim’s, already heading toward their car. Chris muttered something about traffic. Only Yvonne hesitated. 

“You sure?” she asked, looking at her, not Ted.

“Positive,” Ted said.

And that was that. Yvonne gave a small shrug, but her eyes lingered on the girlfriend’s face. Jim caught it. The way she looked at her, worried, maybe even protective.

Jim understood it.

She hadn’t said more than a dozen words all night. Even now, she looked like she was holding herself together for the sake of keeping peace. Ted, meanwhile, seemed restless, almost impatient. Like this “stroll” was more obligation than affection.

As they all went their separate ways, Jim kept glancing back. Ted and his girl were already walking in the opposite direction, his stride long and brisk, hers lagging behind half a step. In the reflection of the restaurant window, Jim saw them. Two silhouettes under the amber lights, not touching, not talking.

Danielle was saying something about the babysitter, but he wasn’t listening. 

What kind of man brings someone halfway across the world and then walks ahead of her like she’s an afterthought?

He didn’t know why that thought stung. Maybe because it reminded him of all the ways he’d failed to notice things himself. Times Danielle had wanted something from him and he’d been too wrapped up in work or the kids to see it. 

Maybe because, deep down, he knew he’d been watching her too closely all night. Ted’s girlfriend is none of your concern, he told himself.

But as they reached the car, Jim looked back one more time and saw she'd come to a stop while Ted kept walking, the distance between them widening with every step. Something about that image settled like a stone in his stomach.

The kids were asleep by the time they got home. The sitter said everything was fine, homework was done, dinner eaten. Danielle disappeared upstairs to take off her makeup. Jim checked his pockets for his phone and felt the absence like a small panic. He remembered leaving it on the table beside his water glass, when she'd asked about his kids.

“You’ll never survive without it,” Danielle teased from the stairs when he called up to let her know he left it at the restaurant.

“I’ll be quick,” he said, already halfway out the door. If he hadn't been getting an eyeful of her, he could have saved a trip.

The drive back into the city was quiet. Dublin at night, with its sodium streetlights reflected in puddles, and taxis ghosting through amber intersections. The restaurant district was thinning out after eleven.

Jim spotted them before he even reached the parking lot. Now they stood on the sidewalk just outside the restaurant’s glow. Twenty minutes, maybe more, since he’d said they were going for a stroll. Ted’s body language was all wrong. His hands were shoved deep in his coat pockets, his jaw set. Her arms were folded tight against herself, her shoulders trembling.

Jim pulled into the corner space, lights off, engine idling low. Dashing into the restaurant through the side door so they wouldn't notice him, his phone was waiting for him with the hostess. Once he was back in his car, he didn’t mean to eavesdrop. That’s what he told himself. He powered down his window just enough for the muffled edge of their voices to reach him.

Her voice first, breaking and raw. “I moved here for you, Ted. I uprooted my entire life to be here with you.”

Jim’s stomach sank. There was no anger in it, just disbelief. Hurt like something she’d been trying to swallow for weeks.

Ted’s reply was colder than the night air. “I didn’t ask you to.”

Silence. Then her crying, soft and contained the way people cry when they don’t want to be heard. Ted sighed, stepped forward, and kissed her forehead. The kind of gesture that meant ending, not comfort.

“What you want,” he said, “is more than I can give you right now. I’m sorry.”

And then he just walked away. Down the street, hands still in his pockets, without looking back.

Jim sat there, fingers locked around the steering wheel. He should have driven off and respected their privacy. But watching her stand there alone under the streetlamp, in tears, trembling... He wasn’t sure what to call it. Empathy? Or the sudden, dangerous certainty that her loneliness just might match his own.

Without thinking, he just turned the key and stepped out of the car. He shoved his hands into his coat pockets and crossed the lot toward her, calling her name.

She startled, wiping quickly at her cheeks, caught somewhere between shame and surprise. “Jim? What are you…”

“I left my phone,” he said, nodding toward the restaurant behind them. “Saw you here and thought...” He trailed off, not sure how to finish that sentence.

She nodded, looking down at the sidewalk. Her eyes were puffy, but she stood up straighter now, squaring herself in that way people do when they don’t want others to see them crumble. 

“Do you need a ride?” he asked gently.

“I can call a cab.”

“It’s no trouble. Really.”

She hesitated. He could see the calculation in her expression, pride battling with exhaustion. “Are you sure?”

He nodded. “I just… didn’t want to leave you out here like this.”

They stood in silence for a beat. Then she followed him to the car.

Inside, the heater kicked on. She rubbed her hands together for warmth, then let them fall to her lap. Jim pulled out of the lot slowly, uncertain where he was even going. 

“Do you want to go back to Ted’s?” he asked, quietly.

“We don’t live together,” she said, not looking at him. “We never have.”

That surprised him. “Oh.”

It shouldn’t have mattered. It shouldn’t have changed anything. But it did.

Something stirred in his chest, a flicker of hope where there shouldn’t have been any. He wasn’t proud of it. It felt disloyal, stupid even. But knowing she hadn’t shared a home with Ted… that she hadn’t built a life with him the way Jim had with Danielle, it did something to him. He tried to shake it off, focus on the moment, but the thought clung to him like fog.

Wasn't it fucked up that the thought made him feel better?

But the part of him that had memorized the silver ring on her toe, the green glint of her belly-button piercing, the sadness behind her smile, that part knew better.

“I moved here thinking we would. That's what he said he wanted.” Her voice was flat now, tired and hollow. “But apparently, he changed his mind about that. as soon as I got here.” She blew out an exhale. “I have a flat. Just a few blocks from here.” 

He nodded again when she gave him the address, unsure what to say. The silence between them wasn’t awkward. It felt like an understanding, quiet and fragile. He just drove, the headlights cutting through the fog, the heater humming low between them. She sat quietly, arms wrapped around herself, staring out the window like she wasn’t really seeing the street at all.

Jim told himself he was doing the right thing. Just being kind. But still, somewhere deep in the part of him he didn’t like to examine too closely, there was a flicker of warmth. Not from the heat. From the way it felt to be the one she turned to, even if only by chance.

They reached her building a few minutes later, a narrow red-brick block just off Camden Street, its entrance light flickering faintly in the fog. Jim parked along the curb, but kept the engine running to keep the cabin warm. The sudden silence made the world feel very small. For a moment, neither of them spoke. She was still staring straight ahead, her eyes glassy, her hands clenched in her lap. When she finally turned to him, her voice was soft and frayed.

“Thank you. For the ride.”

Jim nodded. “Of course.”

It was quiet in the warm cabin of his car, just the faint sound of rain tapping the windshield.

“Are you going to be okay?” he asked.

She tried to answer, but her breath hitched. She covered her mouth, shaking her head. “I just don’t know,” she managed. Her voice broke on the last word. She turned toward the window, trying to hide the tears, but he could see her shoulders trembling.

Jim knew he shouldn’t touch her. He knew exactly how it would look, what it would do to him. But knowing didn’t stop him. He reached across the console, hesitated for a second, then rested his hand lightly on her arm. When she didn’t pull away, he drew her gently toward him.

She folded into him like she’d been holding herself up for too long. Her face pressed against his shoulder, her breath warm through his shirt. He could smell her perfume, soft and floral. He told himself it was only comfort. That he was doing what anyone would do. But her body trembled against his, and the sound of her crying filled the small space. Somewhere in all that sorrow was something else. The ache of being needed.  

When she finally sat back, wiping her eyes, she gave him a watery, apologetic smile. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“Don’t be,” he said in a voice rougher than he meant it to be.

She thanked him again, reached for the door handle, and climbed out. Up the narrow steps, through the flickering light. He watched until the door shut softly behind her.

Jim sat there a long time after that, staring at the spot where she’d sat. His chest still felt warm from where she’d leaned against him.

Disclaimer:The author of this work claims no ownership of characters aside from the reader, and original secondary characters mentioned. This work is not intended for those under the age of 18 due to explicit sexual content and darker themes. By reading this work or any works on my blog (jtargaryen18), you agree that you are at least 18 years of age. I do not consent to have my work hosted on any third party app or site.

Jim didn’t usually check his phone until he sat down for lunch. It was habit more than discipline. If he started answering messages earlier, the day disappeared into them. So he got up and made himself a sandwich, and took it back to the table where he worked. The first bite had barely left the wrapper when his phone buzzed.

It was her. He’d gotten used to that now. The small lift in his chest when he saw her name. It had him smiling as he picked up his phone.

Her message was simple.

I’m okay. But I wanted you to see this.

Below it was a screenshot she'd attached.

Jim opened it, but his expression didn’t change at first. He read it over and then, thinking that surely he'd misread it. Slower now, he went to read it again.

Danielle: I saw your video.

He leaned back in his chair. Carefully, he read the next line.

I assume you understand how that looks while we’re still legally married.

He exhaled. It was a lot already, but the last text was the one that did it.

Jim doesn’t need more pressure right now.

Jim stared at the screen, shaking his head. He’d been married to Danielle long enough to know exactly what that line was. Danielle was positioning. He recognized the careful, reasonable tone. The implication that she was the one looking out for him here.

He scrolled up again, looking carefully at the thread. No reply. Nothing. Blowing out an exhale, he thought about that. Of course she hadn't answered Danielle. She was probably blaming herself for this, when she really had nothing to do with it, and would be too afraid of saying anything that might hurt him. He could almost picture her thinking through it. Turning the words over. Deciding what response would give Danielle the least ground before deciding that anything she said would be bad. 

And that was a problem. Whether she got a reaction from her or not, Danielle had discovered a pressure point. And she wouldn't hesitate to use it. No anger or threats. Just quiet guilt-inducing implication. 

You’re a complication. You’re making things harder for him.

If she were the kind of person who reacted quickly, Danielle would have gotten the fight she really wanted. If she was insecure enough, she might step away from him on her own. Either way, Danielle got to twist the knife in her without having to confront him directly. And Danielle was probably thinking that if she could just make the situation uncomfortable enough, she would walk away from him.

He rubbed a hand across his mouth. It was clever. And it irritated him because it meant she wasn’t trying to hurt Clara. She was trying to quietly remove her altogether.

Jim picked up his phone again, staring at the screenshot one more time.

He typed. Stopped. Deleted it.

Instead, he hit the call button.

She answered just after the second ring. “Hey.”

Jim was grateful that she sounded steady.

“You’re okay?” he asked.

“Yes.”

He believed her. But when it came to her, he also knew the difference between 'okay' and shaken.

“I saw the messages,” he said. "Thank you for sending them to me."

“Yeah.” A small pause. “I would have sent them last night, I just... I didn't want to wake you,” she added. “It was late there.”

“Don't even try to apologize to me for this,” he said. "You did nothing wrong, okay?"

She sighed on her end.

“You didn’t answer her," he pointed out. It wasn’t a question.

She huffed a quiet laugh on the other end. “No.”

“That's good.” He leaned forward, his forearms on the table and his sandwich forgotten. “She wanted a reaction.”

“Yeah, that’s kind of what I was thinking.” She paused for a moment, then it sounded like she was walking. "But also, she probably thinks I'm a huge coward now. I just wouldn't know what to say to that."

He almost smiled at that, the tension in his chest easing just a little. “She doesn’t think you’re a coward. If that's what she believed, she wouldn't have made an effort.”

There was a small pause on the line. She was listening.

“Danielle was looking for anything she could turn into a fight. You didn’t give her one.” He leaned back in his chair, glancing again at the screenshot on his phone. “That probably irritated her a lot more than if you had.”

She let out a breath on the other end of the line.

“Honestly, it doesn’t matter what I say or do here,” she admitted quietly. “It’s going to be wrong either way. And I’m just trying not to make things worse for you.”

Jim frowned slightly. “You’re not making anything worse for me.”

“I mean it,” she said quickly. “I’ll talk to Jillian. Ask her not to post anything about me for a while. That way Danielle won’t have anything else to judge.”

He straightened in his chair. “No.”

The word came out firmer than he intended, but he but he let it stand. “Don’t do that. She doesn’t get to run your life from the sidelines. You didn’t post that video. You didn’t tag yourself in it. You were dancing on the beach at your parents’ house, not staging a publicity stunt.”

“I know, but—”

“But nothing,” he cut in gently. “If Danielle has a problem with something, she talks to me. Not you.”

He glanced again at the screenshot on his phone, that last line sitting there like a small accusation.

Jim doesn’t need more pressure right now.

A quiet irritation settled in his chest.

“I’m not letting her do this,” he said.

“Do what?”

“Make you feel like you’re a problem that needs to be managed.”

She went silent for a moment.

“I’m not afraid of Danielle,” he said. “And I’m not letting her run you off either.”

A long moment stretched out between them before she finally said, "Okay.”

Jim finally picked up the sandwich he’d forgotten about, though he still didn’t take a bite. “We’ll deal with it,” he said.

“How did she even find that?” she asked after a minute. "I haven't posted anything on social media myself in months."

Jim had been wondering the same thing. He tapped the screenshot again. He was already running through the possibilities in his head.

“She had to go looking for it," he said finally. It was the only thing that made sense.

“You think so?”

“Yes.” 

Danielle didn’t stumble onto things. No, she researched them, and that meant she'd searched for her by name. She found Jillian, then the video. The thought sat heavily with him. Jillian posted the video, not her. 

She wasn't someone who needed attention. She rarely liked being on the receiving end of it, like she didn't deserve it. And that would change once they were together, but for now, he had to keep her from falling prey to those worries. 

And all of that only made Danielle’s accusation even more absurd.

“I’ll handle it," he said, keeping his voice calm for her.

“You don’t have to, Jim. You're already dealing with so much."

“Yes, I do.” He didn’t raise his voice, but he recognized the hint of anger in his tone. “She doesn’t get to talk to you like that.”

“So, you’re not upset with me?” she asked carefully.

That question surprised him. “For what?”

“The video.”

He almost laughed. "I'm a little upset that I didn't know you could dance like that. I've lost count of how many times I've watched it.”

Her breath caught slightly. "It's not a big deal, really."

"You're a beautiful dancer,” Jim said. And he meant that. "How long have you been doing that?"

"I wasn't the go-getter Mary was in high school," she explained. "She was in band, on the chess team, class president. I struggled just talking to people sometimes. Papa thought it would be a good idea for me to find something that was mine and it turned out to be something that none of my peers from school were doing. I was around fourteen when I started. I still enjoy it. The biggest thing I get from it is the meditation. It's actually just moving meditation after all."

"I get that," he told her. "I'd love to see it first hand one day."

"You probably will." There was a smile in her voice. "I'm just so sorry all this happened."

“No, this isn't on you. I'll be talking to Danielle tonight," he said firmly.

"You don't have to, Jim."

"I do." And he absolutely did. “She went around me.”

And that was what he couldn't allow to continue. 

A quick glance at the clock showed that his lunch break was almost over. 

"Don't give this another thought," he told her. "If she sends something else, do the same thing you did here. Let me deal with it, okay?"

"Okay," she said. "I will."

Jim ended the call with her feeling steadier than he had twenty minutes earlier.

Danielle had very deliberately crossed a line. And he was going to deal with it. Checking the time, he still had a couple of hours to work until he had to pick up the kids. 

By the time they'd walked back to the house, there was a text notification on his phone. It didn't surprise him. 

Danielle: I’m staying at Robert’s tonight.

He stared at it for a moment. There was no explanation or mention of the conversation he'd asked for. Just absence.

He typed back before he could talk himself out of it.

Jim: We need to talk.

Her reply came almost immediately.

Danielle: We will. I just think it might be better if we wait until the weekend.

Jim was already shaking his head.

That was Danielle’s other tactic. Delay. If she waited long enough, the temperature of a problem usually dropped.

Only this time it wasn’t going to.

Another message appeared.

Danielle: Also, Robert said it would be fine if the kids stayed here sometimes. There’s plenty of room.

They’d already had this conversation. A couple of times. Robert wasn’t their family. Not yet. And certainly not while everything was still being sorted out with the solicitor.

He scrubbed a hand over his mouth before typing.

Jim: We’ve talked about that.

Three dots appeared. Vanished. Appeared again.

Danielle: They like him, Jim.

That wasn’t the point. And she knew it.

Exhaling slowly through his nose, he forced himself not to turn it into an argument over text. He’d learned that lesson years ago.

He went in another direction.

Jim: We’ll discuss it when you’re home.

The phone stayed quiet after that. Jim set it down on the kitchen counter and stood there for a moment.

Part of him knew exactly what Danielle was doing. She was trying to shift the conversation since she didn't get what she really wanted. Instead of talking about the message she’d sent Clara, she wanted to make the issue about Robert and the kids. It was the only way she could keep control of the narrative as she saw it.

Jim almost admired the maneuver.

For now, the kids were home. There was homework spread across the table, Ben muttering under his breath over math problems while Alannah colored the margins of her worksheet. The smell of something simple simmered on the stove, and Jim moved between the counter and the table, answering questions and reminding them to finish before dinner.

Normal, routine things. The kind Danielle no longer had to manage every day. Before the separation, she'd only had to worry about them sometimes.

His phone buzzed on the counter. He wiped his hands on a towel and glanced at it.

Danielle.

He opened the message.

Danielle: If you bring the kids to Robert’s tomorrow night, we can talk about it then.

Jim stared at the screen. So that was the condition. Not home or neutral ground. 

Robert’s house.

He rubbed a hand across the back of his neck, thinking it through. He sure as hell didn’t like it. Not the setting not the precedent.

But if he refused, the conversation would get pushed again. Danielle would keep moving the goalposts until the whole thing dissolved into delay. And this needed to be handled.

He typed slowly. Fine. Tomorrow.

The phone stayed silent after that.

Jim set it down again, but the weight of the decision settled in his stomach.

Now, he’d have to explain it.

“Okay,” he said, turning back to the table. “Quick update for tomorrow.”

Both kids looked up. 

Ben looked immediately suspicious. “What?”

Jim leaned against the back of a chair.

“You’re going to stay with your mum tomorrow night.”

Alannah’s face brightened slightly. “Here?”

Ben caught the hesitation before Jim could answer.

“No,” Jim said carefully. “At Robert’s.”

The reaction was immediate.

Ben pushed his pencil down. “I don’t want to do that.”

Jim kept his voice calm. “It’s just one night.”

“Why can’t we stay here?” Ben asked.

“Because your mum asked.”

Ben shook his head, jaw tight. “I don’t like it there.”

Alannah shifted in her chair. “It’s not that bad,” she offered.

Ben shot her a look. “You said his dog stares at you.”

“He does,” she admitted.

Jim almost smiled despite himself. “It’s just a sleepover,” he said. “You’ll survive.”

Ben wasn’t convinced. "We haven't stayed over there at night before. What if I can't sleep?"

Jim paused at that. The stubbornness in Ben’s voice softened just enough for him to hear what was really underneath it. Worry.

He set the spoon down on the counter and turned back toward the table. “You’ll sleep,” Jim said gently. “And if you don’t, you’ll still survive one night.”

Ben frowned at his worksheet.

Jim added, quieter this time, “And if it’s really that bad, you can call me. I’ll come get you.”

That finally made Ben look up. Still, he folded his arms across his chest. “I don’t like that guy.”

So much for Danielle's They like him, Jim.

That landed heavier than anything Ben said so far. Jim didn’t correct him, but he didn’t agree either.

Jim just said quietly, “You don’t have to like him.”

Ben frowned. “Then why do we have to go there?”

Jim paused, because explaining adult negotiations to a ten-year-old was impossible.

“Sometimes grown-ups have things they need to work out,” he said finally.

Ben stared at him for another moment. Then he picked up his pencil again, be he was still unhappy.

Jim turned back toward the stove, the conversation sitting heavy in the room.

Tomorrow night was going to be complicated. He could already feel it.

Jillian knocked on your front door just as you slipped your jacket on. Before you could get to the handle, it opened and Jillian walked in as if she owned the place.

“Movie night,” she announced brightly. “Come on, I want to have time to get treats before the trailers."

Grabbing your bag, you stepped outside and pulled the door closed behind you.

“The trailers run for thirty minutes,” you said, following Jillian down the walkway. “You can watch those on YouTube.”

“Not the same,” Jillian replied solemnly, unlocking the car.

You laughed despite yourself and slid into the passenger seat of her car. The low hum of Jillian's playlist filled the cabin as she started the engine and backed out of the driveway.

You looked out the window, trying to focus on anything but the tight knot still sitting in your stomach from last night and Danielle's text messages.

Jillian glanced over. Then she sighed dramatically. “What happened?”

You had to sell this. “Nothing.”

Jillian snorted. “Please.”

“I’m serious,” you tried.

“Yeah, you're seriously lying to me,” she replied. "What's going on? I’ve known you since elementary school. That avoidance shit didn't work on me then, and it ain't going to work now.

You groaned. “I don’t know what you mean.”

Jillian slowed for a red light and finally turned her head. “You’re pretending everything is fine, but I know you.”

You stared straight ahead.

“You always do that little shoulder thing when you’re holding something in,” Jillian added.

“What shoulder thing?” you asked.

“That one.”

You dropped your shoulders immediately.

Jillian smiled faintly. “Exactly.”

The light turned green, and the car moved again. 

You waited another block before speaking. “Danielle texted me last night.”

Jillian’s head snapped towards you. “What? Why? What did she say?”

You stared out the windshield for a second before answering. “She said she saw the video.”

Jillian blinked. “The dance video?”

“Yes.”

“The one I—”

“Yes,” you replied.

Jillian blew out an exhale.

“Okay,” she muttered. “That’s… not great.”

“She didn’t attack me,” you continued. “It was more like she was making me a problem.”

“Problem how?”

You pulled out your phone and read the first message verbatim. “She said she assumed I understood how it looked while they’re still legally married.”

Jillian scoffed. “Oh please. Who was going to fucking see it and know that? No one.”

“And then she said Jim doesn’t need more pressure right now.”

The car went very quiet. Jillian’s grip tightened on the steering wheel. “Really?"

You nodded. “I didn’t answer her.”

“Good.”

You glanced over at her. “She probably thinks I’m a coward.”

“No,” Jillian said flatly. “She thinks she’s clever.”

Another beat passed. “You didn’t tell Jim right away?”

“I sent him the screenshot this morning.”

“And?”

“He called me.”

Jillian nodded once, satisfied. “Good man.”

You leaned your head against the seat. “I was mostly worried that maybe he was having a hard time and just not telling me.”

Jillian glanced over briefly. “And?”

“He said I handled it right.”

“Of course you did.”

The theater sign came into view down the street.

Jillian slowed the car, but her mind was clearly still turning.

“Hold on,” she said suddenly.

“What?”

“She saw that video, but I posted it. Not you.”

You sighed. “Yes.”

“And I promised you I wouldn’t.”

“I know.”

Jillian shook her head. “That’s on me.”

“It’s not—”

“No,” she interrupted firmly. “It is, and I'm sorry.”

She pulled into the theater parking lot and turned off the engine, sitting there for a moment.

“I’m thinking Danielle just tried to literally run you off without actually picking a fight.”

You didn’t answer, thinking about what she said.

Jillian turned in her seat and looked at you fully now. “That’s not happening.”

You smiled faintly. “No, it's not.”

She grabbed her purse.

“Come on,” she said, opening the door. “We’re not letting that woman ruin Cillian Murphy movie night.”

You stepped out beside her, the cool night air brushing your face. The tight knot that had been sitting in your chest since you got those texts loosened just a little.

"Wait, what are we seeing?" you asked.

"The Immortal Man," Jillian said with a mischievous grin. "We're lucky we get to see it. Most people have to wait until the 20th, and I'm not waiting for some online jackass to ruin the whole thing for me before it gets there."

You laughed, following her into the theatre.

Jim pulled the car into Robert’s driveway and turned off the engine. Looking into the backseat using the rearview mirror, he saw that Ben wasn't moving.

Alannah had already unbuckled and was peering out the window toward the front door, but Ben stayed exactly where he was with his arms folded.

Jim sighed. “You’ll be fine.”

Ben didn’t answer.

Jim opened his door and stepped out, waiting until Ben reluctantly followed. Before they reached the porch, Jim stopped him.

“Hey.”

Ben looked up.

Jim crouched slightly so they were eye level. “You remember what I said.”

Ben kicked at the gravel, and Jim was regretting making this deal.

“If you want to come home, you call me,” Jim said quietly. “Any time. I’ll come get you.”

Ben’s shoulders relaxed just a little. “Okay.”

“Okay.”

Robert opened the front door opened before they even knocked, wearing an easy smile. “Hey guys. Come on in.”

Alannah slipped past him immediately. Ben hesitated, glancing back once at Jim before stepping inside.

Robert followed them, leaving the door open.

Danielle stepped out onto the porch then, pulling the door closed behind her. For a moment, neither of them spoke. The porch light buzzed overhead as the sun continued to sink in the distance.

“What do you want to talk about?” Her arms folded loosely. “I assume this is about her.”

“It’s about the messages you sent her,” he said.

Danielle exhaled through her nose. “I didn’t threaten her.”

“That’s not the point.”

She tilted her head. She always used to do that when she tried to convince him she was right about something when she knew good and damn well she wasn't.

“Then what is?” she asked.

Jim held her gaze. “You went around me.”

Danielle scoffed. “She posted a video of herself dancing around a fire in a skimpy little outfit.”

“She didn’t post it,” Jim said calmly. “Her friend Jillian did.”

Danielle shrugged. “She allowed it.”

“She didn’t even know it existed.”

Danielle studied him. “Well, you’re defending her very quickly.”

“I’m correcting the facts.”

That irritated her more than an angry response would have.She shifted her weight slightly.

“You don’t see how that looks?” Danielle asked.

“To who exactly?” Jim caught the anger in his tone, dialed it down. "I haven't said anything to anyone. So unless you did, who exactly is paying attention?"

Danielle’s eyes narrowed. “You’re still married.”

"So are you," Jim said, biting back his anger. "You're on your second boyfriend since we separated. You come and go as you please. I've known her longer than you've known Robert and yet, our kids are staying overnight here. Her friend posts a video of her, and you're doing this? Really?"

He watched a little of that attitude fade from her demeanor. What could she say to any of that? It was all true. 

But she wasn't giving up that easily. “Jim, she’s performing on social media.”

“She was dancing on a beach at her parents’ house," he replied. "She didn't know that video was posted until I mentioned it."

“Now you’re missing the point.” Danielle laughed softly, without humor. "If you're serious about this, and she's going to be part of our children's lives, she should act more appropriately, don't you think?"

“No,” Jim said evenly. “There was nothing inappropriate about her dance, Danielle.”

Silence stretched between them.

Then he added quietly, “And from this point on, if you have a problem with my life or the people in it, you talk to me. Not her.”

Danielle shook her head. “Then you need to make sure she understands the situation a little better. I won't tolerate certain things around the children.”

Jim just stared her down. He really wanted to point out that she did, what? Twenty-five percent of the parenting now? If that?

But then he considered the fact that he'd capitulated, allowed his kids to stay here at Robert's house, just to have this talk. It was a mistake. He knew that now. He wouldn't be bargaining again.

"On that we agree," he finally said. "I feel the same way."

She actually snorted on that note. "Nothing, nothing, inappropriate will happen in front of our children while they're here. I can assure you of that."

Jim didn't say anything.

“You’re letting this woman complicate things, Jim,” Danielle said finally. 

Jim shook his head. “No. I’m really not.”

Danielle’s eyes shifted toward the Robert's house, then back to him. “Do you really think you know her?”

"I've known her longer than you've known Robert," he repeated.

“Robert isn't a young, twenty-something woman,” Danielle said. "He's older, more mature."

"Why hasn't he ever married or had kids at his age?" Jim asked.

Her eyes narrowed again. "You can try to drag him into this all you like. It doesn't change the fact that you're chasing a woman who lives in the States, is at least ten years younger than you, and she's never been married or had children either. And after that video, I think she's maybe a little irresponsible."

“What’s irresponsible,” he said calmly, “is dragging her into a drama no one else is aware of."

Danielle blew out an exhale. “So what do you want, Jim? An apology?”

“No.”

“Then what?”

He met her gaze steadily. “A boundary.”

The word sat heavily between them.

“If you have concerns about me or her,” he continued, “you bring them to me."

Danielle didn’t answer right away. “You’re really serious about this.”

Jim didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”

Danielle absorbed that. For the first time, the certainty seemed to unsettle her.

She nodded and looked toward the house again. “We’ll see how serious it feels in six months.” 

Jim didn’t take the bait. He stepped back toward the car. “Leave her alone, Danielle.”

Danielle didn’t respond.

Jim got back into the car and pulled away from the curb. The house disappeared behind him in the rearview mirror. Only when he reached the end of the street did he let out the breath he’d been holding. He rested his forehead briefly against the steering wheel.

He’d meant every word he’d said. And that realization, the quiet certainty of it, was a little terrifying. 

After a moment, he straightened, started the engine again, and drove home.

Danielle stood on the porch for a moment after Jim drove away, her arms still folded. The quiet of the street settled around her now that his car was gone.

Taking a deep breath, she pushed the door open and stepped back inside.

Robert was in the kitchen pouring two glasses of wine. “How’d it go?”

Danielle walked to the counter. “He’s impossible.”

Robert handed her a glass. “That didn’t answer the question.”

She took a long drink before speaking. “He’s defending her.”

Robert leaned back against the counter. “I mean… yeah.”

Danielle shot him a look. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well,” he said mildly, “he’s seeing her. It makes sense that he'd defend her.”

“That’s not the point.”

Robert shrugged. “What's the problem? You have me. He found someone. Isn’t that the direction this whole thing was going anyway?”

His calm logic irritated her more than anything Jim had said. “That’s easy for you to say.”

Robert frowned slightly. “Why are you so upset about it?”

Danielle stared into her glass. “She’s young. And he’s acting like he’s twenty-five.”

Robert said nothing.

“He’s a cliché now,” Danielle continued, frustration sharpening her voice. “A middle-aged man blowing up his life for the younger woman. It's embarrassing.”

Robert lifted an eyebrow.

“My problem is that our kids are involved,” she said.

Robert glanced toward the hallway where they'd disappeared into the rooms he gave them. “They seem fine.”

“That’s because they don’t understand it yet.” Danielle sipped from her glass. “And Alannah is so impressionable right now.”

Robert waited.

“Next thing you know, she'll want to learn how to dance like that.”

Robert looked confused. “Like what?”

“Like a whore.”

The word hung in the air.

Just around the corner, a small shadow froze.

The drive home was quieter than usual the next morning. Ben talked about a video game he and Robert had played when they first got in the car, filling the silence in bursts of enthusiasm. Jim responded where he could, nodding, asking questions.

But Alannah barely spoke. Something was off there. She stared out the window most of the way, twisting the strap of her backpack in her hands.

Jim noticed, but he didn't push. Kids had their own timing when something was bothering them.

When they pulled into the driveway, Ben jumped out of the car immediately and ran inside. Alannah followed more slowly, which was the opposite of what she normally did.

Inside, Jim set their bags by the stairs and headed for the kitchen.

“Lunch first,” he said. “Then you two can disappear into whatever chaos you have planned for the afternoon.”

Ben whooped and bolted toward the living room.

Alannah hovered near the counter.

Jim pulled what he needed from the cupboard and fridge, and started assembling sandwiches. He was giving Alannah the space to speak if she wanted to. A couple of minutes passed before he heard her small voice behind him.

“Dad?”

He didn’t turn right away. He just kept slicing tomatoes. “Yeah?”

A pause.

“What’s a whore?” Alannah asked.

The knife stopped. For one split second the word hung in the quiet kitchen like something fragile.

Jim slowly set the knife down, turned around.

Alannah was standing there with her hands clasped in front of her, eyes uncertain.

“Where did you hear that word?” he asked gently.

She looked down at the floor. “Last night.”

Jim waited.

“Mom said it,” she added quietly.

His stomach tightened, but he kept his voice steady.

"Did she know you heard her say that?” he had to ask.

Alannah shook her head. "I was going to ask for a glass of water, but she was mad and talking to Robert. I just went back to my room."

Nothing inappropriate would happen in front of our kids at Roberts, eh?

“What did she say exactly?” Jim asked, taking a knee to put himself on her level.

Alannah shifted from one foot to the other. The way her eyes started to shine let him know she was really upset about what she'd heard.

“She said… that we were involved…” she began carefully. "And that I was depressionable right now."

"Maybe impressionable?" he asked carefully.

She nodded, her brow furrowing as she tried to remember. "She said the next thing you know that I'd be wanting to dance like that."

Jim knew he wasn't going to like what she said next. 

“Robert said like what,” Alannah's voice shook now. "And mum said like a whore. Did she mean me? Am I bad?"

Jim felt the pieces click together in his head as his daughter started to cry. Pulling her into him, Jim just held her.

"No, Mum didn't mean you," he told her. "She wouldn't say that. I promise."

"Then who did she call that?" Alannah eased back, swiping at her face with her sleeves. "What was she talking about?"

Jim hated the worried look on his daughter's face. 

"I'll show you," Jim told her. He pulled his phone from his back pocket, unlocking it and finding the video of her dance. He'd saved it to his phone.

Alannah watched as it played, her eyes going wide when she stepped into the frame and began to dance. 

Jim didn't say anything, just let her watch it all the way through. Alannah never moved or said a thing. But when it was done, she looked up at him in something like wonder.

"That was her," she said. "Where is she?"

"She's at her parents' house," Jim explained. "They live by the ocean."

"She looked really pretty," Alannah told him. "Why is Mum mad about that?"

Jim shrugged. "I'm not sure why she was mad about it."

“Is dancing bad?” she asked.

The question hit him harder than the word had. "Not at all. Not even a little. And if it was bad, I wouldn't have shown it to you, would I?"

Alannah studied his face, and after a moment, she shook her head.

“But Mum sounded really mad.” Her gaze stayed on him. "Was she calling her a... that word?"

Jim chose his next words carefully. “Sometimes grown-ups say things when they’re upset that they don’t mean the way they sound,” he said.

That seemed to help a little. She nodded slowly. “But what does the word mean?”

Jim exhaled quietly. “It’s a word people sometimes use to insult someone. So never say it."

Alannah absorbed that. "So she isn't one?"

Jim almost smiled despite the knot in his chest. “No,” he said gently. “She isn’t.”

Alannah relaxed at that. “Okay.”

She turned and wandered toward the living room where Ben was already yelling about something on the television.

Jim stayed crouched there for a moment after she left.

Then he slowly stood up and finished making lunch. But his mind was somewhere else now. Whatever Danielle had meant by that comment, the kids had heard it.

And that changed things.

The kids were in the living room on Monday evening, doing their homework with the television mostly in the background. Normally, he didn't allow that until homework was done. But today his mind was all over the place, and his frustration level was higher than ever.

Jim was in the kitchen finishing dinner when Danielle walked in carrying her overnight bag. Their normal short, polite hello was exchanged. 

The four of them had dinner, but it was tense. Ben was the most animated person at the table, and that said it all. He talked about some science project at school, made a pitch for a new version of his favorite video game. But Ben was really good at reading a room at his age. After a few minutes, he was as silent as Alannah.

And that was what upset Jim the most. His normally chatty, enthusiastic daughter kept cutting her mother worried looks. Danielle noticed it, but the confusion on her face was hard to read. It didn't take him long to realize that Danielle didn't know Alannah had overheard her using "the word." It was the reason it had to be brought up.

Once dinner was done, the kids disappeared upstairs to their rooms. Jim stopped Danielle before she left the dining room.

“We need to talk for a minute.”

Danielle paused. “About what?”

Jim leaned against the counter. “Saturday night.”

Her eyes narrowed slightly. “We already talked about everything.”

"No,” Jim said calmly. “We didn’t.”

She crossed her arms. “What now?”

Jim didn’t raise his voice. “Alannah heard you.”

Danielle paused. “Heard what?”

"She heard you call someone a whore," Jim just said it. "She was afraid you said that about her."

Realization hit her, and her posture stiffened. "She wasn't in the room."

"Apparently, she was," he went on. "She asked me what it meant.”

Danielle exhaled sharply. “Jim, I didn’t mean—”

“I know.” And he did.

That threw her off. 

“But it happened,” he continued. “And now she’s confused.”

Danielle rubbed her forehead. Embarrassed color darkened her face. “I was angry.”

“I figured.” Jim shook his head. "It wasn't hard to figure out who you were calling that and why." He paused then because that wasn't the only thing on his mind tonight. “Which is part of why this arrangement isn’t working for me or them anymore.”

Danielle looked up. “What arrangement?”

“The half-in, half-out living situation you've got going on,” Jim said.

That pissed her off. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Jim kept his tone level. “You’re spending most of your time with Robert anyway.”

Danielle said nothing, but her mouth dropped open indignantly. 

“The kids are starting to notice,” Jim said. “And it’s confusing for them.”

“So what are you suggesting?” Danielle asked, the first note of ire bleeding into her tone.

Jim's gaze met hers. “Maybe it’s time you move in with Robert.”

The sentence dropped like a quiet bomb between them.

Danielle just studied him. “You’re serious?” 

“Yes.”

She glared at him. “You can’t just push me out.” 

“I’m not pushing you out,” Jim said. “And the solicitor called today.”

She froze. “And?” 

“There’s a delay.”

Danielle closed her eyes briefly. “Of course there is.”

Jim nodded. “Which means this could drag on longer than we expected.” He gestured toward the kids' rooms upstairs. “And the kids need stability.”

Danielle just stopped, thinking. “You want me gone.”

Jim shook his head. “I just want things to be clear.”

“Clear for who, Jim?”

“For the kids.”

Danielle let out a short laugh. “Oh please.”

Jim didn’t react.

“You’re suggesting I move out of my own house,” she continued, “while we’re still married.”

“You’re already spending most nights at Robert’s.”

She set her glass down harder than necessary on the counter. “Even so, you don’t get to rush me out the door because I don't like your little girlfriend.”

Jim folded his arms loosely. “That’s not what this is about.”

“Really?” she snapped. “It sounds a lot like you’re trying to make room for her.”

“I’m not moving her into this house.”

“You’re thinking about it," she accused.

“No.”

“Jim—”

“No,” he repeated, firmer this time. “I’m not.”

Danielle's hands were on her hips. “Well, she’s certainly not moving in here while we’re still legally married.”

Jim just stared at her. “I love the limits placed on me because we're still legally married while you're immune. And that’s not a conversation anyone has had.”

“Well, I’m having it now.” Her voice cooled. “And I’m not just going to hand you our house so you can move her in.”

Jim rubbed a hand across his mouth. “That’s not what I’m asking.”

“Then what are you asking?”

“I’m asking for fewer mixed signals for my children," he said, struggling to keep the growing hostility out of his voice.

Danielle scoffed. “Mixed signals?”

“You live here half the week and somewhere else the other half,” he said calmly. “They’re trying to figure out what that means.”

“That’s called divorce, Jim.”

“But they don't understand that.”

Danielle huffed. “So now you want to rearrange everyone’s lives because this is dragging out longer.”

“No,” Jim said. “I want to avoid another Saturday night where our daughter hears something she shouldn’t.”

Danielle’s gaze shifted to the hallway and back.

“I told you,” she said, softer now. “I didn’t realize she was there."

Dropping her gaze, she sighed. "And I’m not moving out tomorrow.” 

“I didn’t ask you to.” Jim was done arguing, and he wasn't backing down. “That’s why we need a plan.”

Danielle studied him for a long moment before she made her way out of the kitchen.

The house was quiet that night when Jim’s phone buzzed. The rest of the house was asleep, and he was in bed. It had been the longest Monday he’d had in a while.

Glancing down at the screen, he saw her name. He answered immediately.

Her face appeared a second later, the glow of a lamp behind her making her look soft and warm.

“Hey,” she said, smiling.

Jim leaned back on his bed. “Hey.”

She studied him for a second. “How was your day?”

Jim huffed a quiet breath through his nose. “Long.”

Now she was really looking at him in a way that had him aching to hold her in the worst way. “Are you okay?”

He nodded. “Yeah. Just a lot going on.”

And wasn't that true? He didn't want to get into all the drama from the weekend. But he didn't want it to sound like he was hiding anything either.

If she noticed, she didn't say anything. “Sorry, I'm a little late. Mary dragged me off this afternoon."

Jim raised an eyebrow. “What did the two of you get into?”

“We went to the florist,” she said. “To order centerpieces for the renewal ceremony. Picked up Papa's suits from the cleaners.”

Jim smiled faintly. "Lots to do.”

“You have no idea.” She shifted slightly, getting comfortable against the pillows on her bed. “And then we found this tiny coffee shop down the street. The owner roasts the beans himself and he had a lot to choose from honestly.”

Jim chuckled. “I know that made you happy.”

“It did. The good news is that I found a coffee there that’s almost as good as the one I always get from the shop near your house,” she explained. "The one we always go to."

“Oh really?”

She nodded proudly. “Almost.”

Jim just took her in on the screen. She was wearing the T-shirt he had given her. She wasn't wearing a bra. He'd give anything if she was here instead of in the quiet of her room thousands of miles away.

Oh, right. She'd been talking about coffee.

“Well,” he said, “problem solved.”

She smiled. “It’ll work. Until I get back to Dublin, anyway.”

The words were simple. But the way she said them made something in his chest tighten. She hadn’t said if. She’d said until she got back to Dublin. As if the return was already decided, and it was only a matter of time.

And for the first time all day, he felt like he could breathe again. In so many words, she said she was coming back to him. As long as that was a fact, he could handle everything else.

“Oh,” she said suddenly. “I meant to ask you something.”

“What’s that?”

“Would it be okay if I called Alannah sometime in the next day or two?” she asked.

“For what?” he asked, not really caring what it was about. It would cheer his daughter up if last time was any indication.

She smiled. “I promised her that she could help me figure out what to wear for the ceremony this weekend. I thought it would be fun.”

“It will be.” The corner of his mouth lifted. “She loved talking to you and Jillian.”

She laughed softly. "So did we. I think we might have created a wardrobe committee.”

Jim pictured Alannah spinning in her room, excited and animated in a way she hadn’t been since.

Then the memory of the kitchen Saturday afternoon flashed briefly in his mind. What’s a whore?

Jim pushed it aside. This, right here, was exactly the kind of thing that would help get his daughter's mind off all the things changing in her life, even for a little while. 

“Yeah,” he said. “I think she’d like that.”

Her smile warmed. “Thank you. I’ll text you tomorrow and we’ll find a time.”

They talked a few minutes longer about nothing important. The chaos of the vow renewal planning. Just ordinary things.

But when the call finally ended and Jim set the phone down on the table, the house didn’t feel quite as heavy as it had earlier.

He eventually fell asleep with her voice in his head. There was an ocean between them, and room in his bed. But she gave him enough of a reminder of what all of this was for. The way she said I love you every time like it meant something to her. The way she talked about coming back to Dublin. The way she promised she couldn't wait for him to meet her fathers and her sister.

Disclaimer:The author of this work claims no ownership of characters aside from the reader, and original secondary characters mentioned. This work is not intended for those under the age of 18 due to explicit sexual content and darker themes. By reading this work or any works on my blog (jtargaryen18), you agree that you are at least 18 years of age. I do not consent to have my work hosted on any third party app or site.

The kiss lingered, soft and careful. A question, not a demand. And for a few suspended heartbeats, the world felt… quiet.

When she pulled back, her breath hitched. Her eyes searched his, wide with realization. 

“Oh God,” she whispered, already rising. “I’m so sorry--”

“Hey--”

“I shouldn’t have--” She backed away like the couch had burned her. Her hands fluttered up to cover her mouth. “That was so selfish. I had no right. I’m sorry, Jim, I’m so sorry.”

He stood slowly, still reeling, his heart thundering in his chest. “Wait--”

“It wasn’t fair to put that on you,” she went on, her voice breaking as she shook her head. “You’ve been nothing but good to me and I just... God, I wasn’t thinking.”

He took a careful step closer. “Was it just comfort? Is that what this was?”

He needed to know. He needed to believe it wasn’t just about her needing someone -- anyone -- in that moment. If it was, maybe he could walk away. He could pull himself out of this mess with his marriage and his morals still intact somehow

But if it wasn’t…If it meant something, if he meant something, then nothing was ever going to be the same again. His eyes searched hers, afraid to hope, afraid not to.

“No.” She shook her head, tears in her eyes. “Don’t you dare think that.” Her voice broke slightly as she went on, each word trembling on her lips. “Jim, ever since I moved to Ireland… even before things with Ted completely fell apart, I used to wonder what it would feel like. To be someone you chose.” She gave a watery laugh, self-deprecating and small. “I told myself every time you looked at me that it was all in my head. That you were just kind. A good man. A good husband and father. The best I could ever hope for was to meet someone like you.” She paused, her eyes glistening as she took a breath. “Ted was right about one thing… I probably should’ve left Ireland. Now I have to wonder if part of me stayed for you... I want you.”

Her words hit him like a punch to the ribs. For a second, he forgot how to breathe.

I want you.

Not comfort. Not a warm body. Not someone to help her feel less alone. Him.

And she meant it. He could see that now, written all over her face, etched into the trembling line of her mouth and the way she couldn’t quite meet his eyes. She was trying to hold herself together, trying not to break, and it wrecked him.

He opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

“But I have no right, Jim,” she went on, her voice thick with tears. “You have a life. A family. And I just dropped a bomb on it.”

Before he could speak, before he could even reach for her, she turned and fled to the kitchen like the words had scorched her on the way out. Like she couldn’t bear to see what they might’ve done to him.

Jim stood there, stunned. Still tasting the ghost of her kiss. Still reeling from everything she said. And at this point, right here, is where he needed to stop this. He needed to say something grounded and rational, something kind but clear. That's what he should do.

The problem was, she wasn’t alone in what she felt. He wanted her too. Not just the soft, shattered version she showed today. But the full one. The one who laughed at the store checkout. The one who didn't fawn over him or pretend to have it all together.

His throat was tight. He let out a shaky breath and raked a hand through his hair. His mind was spinning. This was insanity. He had kids. A wife. 

But when she said she didn’t want to go home... When she said she didn’t want to leave him... 

Jim moved toward the kitchen doorway and stopped short.

She had her back to him, hands flat on the counter, her head bowed. Trying to breathe. Trying not to fall apart. She looked so small.

He didn’t say anything. Just watched her. And for a moment, he wished things were different. That she hadn’t been hurt. That she hadn’t shown up here at the worst possible time in his life. That he hadn’t let himself get so close.

But mostly he wished he were the kind of man who could walk away from this without looking back. He wasn’t. Not anymore.

She straightened slowly, like she could feel him behind her.

“I’m sorry,” she said again, voice barely above a whisper. “I wasn’t thinking. I just... everything with Ted, and being scared, and you showing up like that, being so… kind. I didn’t mean to make this worse.”

“It’s not worse,” he said finally. “I’m the one who should be sorry.”

She turned her head, just slightly, enough to glance at him over her shoulder. “You didn’t do anything, Jim.”

Yes, he had. That was the problem. He’d wanted her to kiss him.

She turned fully then, her back against the counter, arms crossed loosely in front of her like she needed to hold herself together. Her gaze found his, searching for damage, for judgment, for something she could brace against.

“I never meant to actually make a move,” she said softly. She meant it. “Whatever this is, whatever I’m feeling... I don’t know what to do with it.”

His hands flexed at his sides. “You think you’re the only one feeling it?”

That startled her. A beat of silence passed between them.

“I shouldn’t have kissed you,” she said.

“Maybe not,” he agreed. “But you did. And I didn’t stop you.”

“You didn’t stop me because you’re kind." But her voice wobbled, her gaze darting away from his like she couldn’t stand to look at him while she said it. "You’re a good man, and… and maybe Ted’s right.”

That name in her mouth made his jaw tighten.

“Maybe I’m bad,” she whispered. “Maybe I do make people feel sorry for me and then I take advantage of it. Maybe I’m just…” She shook her head, tears welling again. “I don’t know who I am anymore.”

Jim took a slow step toward her, like if he moved too fast she’d bolt. “Stop. Don’t do that.”

“You think I’m this good person, but--”

“I think you’re hurt,” he cut in. “I think you’ve been lied to, and used, and made to feel like you’re the one who caused the damage when all you did was trust the wrong person. That doesn’t make you bad.”

She looked at him, startled.

“It makes you human.” He blew out an exhale. “And I didn’t stop you because I didn’t want to. I didn’t stop you because I’ve wanted to kiss you for longer than I’d ever admit.”

The room pulsed with silence. The words hung there, like something fragile and permanent. And neither of them could pretend anymore.

She stood frozen in the narrow space between the counter and the stove, lips parted like she was still catching her breath. The rain ticking softly at the window felt miles away. Her gaze searched his, wide and full of fear and something else, something like hope.

Her voice came out small. “What happens now?”

The weight of that question had been sitting on his chest for weeks.

“I don’t know,” he said honestly. He took another step, close enough now to see the way her pulse jumped in her throat. “But I can’t lie to you. And I can’t lie to myself anymore either.”

She didn’t move or speak. She just stared up at him like he might give her a reason to breathe again.

“So,” he said, voice low, quiet but clear, “what happens now depends on you.”

He didn’t touch her. Jim gave her space and a choice. A long silence passed between them, heavy and humming with the truth he’d just laid bare.

“You have so much more to lose than I do,” she said, softer now. “It’s just me. I don’t have a family or a house or a marriage on the line. But you…” Her voice caught, but she pressed on. “You do. And I don’t want to be the reason any of that breaks.”

He didn’t argue. Because she was right. And hearing her say it out loud only made the knot in his chest pull tighter.

She tried to smile, but it wavered. “I mean, if you want to pretend it didn’t happen… I get it. I won’t say anything to anyone. I’ll go home and…” She swallowed, eyes glistening. “That’ll be that.”

God, she was trying to make it easy for him. Let him off the hook. But the idea of her just disappearing, of walking out that door like she hadn’t just turned his entire world inside out, made his stomach twist.

Still, she didn’t move. She was giving him the out. All he had to do was take it.

But that was the problem. He didn’t want to.

His voice was rough when it came. “If I walk out that door and you go home, I’ll regret it for the rest of my life.”

That caught her off guard, her lips parting slightly like she didn’t believe he’d actually say it.

“I can’t just forget what you taste like,” he went on, sounding wrecked. “You’re all I’ve been thinking about since I met you.”

He took a step closer, and then another, until the small space between them disappeared. Her back met the edge of the stove, but she didn’t move.

Reaching for her hand, the one that wasn’t bruised, he brought it gently to his chest, flattening it over his heart. “You feel that?”

She nodded, breath coming faster now, lashes fluttering as she looked up at him.

“It’s been like that since you kissed me.”

His head dipped, slow and intentional. And then his mouth was on hers again, no hesitation this time. It was just heat and hunger and something that had been caged too long. The kiss deepened fast, his hands sliding to her waist as her fingers curled in his shirt, anchoring herself. She was pressed flush against him, against the old enamel stove, but neither of them seemed to care. There was nothing gentle about what he felt for her now. And there was no going back.

Jim kept kissing her, walking backwards out of the kitchen and pulling her with him as he did. Once they were in the hallway, she broke the kiss and his heart lurched, thinking she might be cutting this off. Putting the brakes on.

Instead, she grabbed the front of his coat and pulled him behind her to a room beyond the kitchen. The bedroom was swallowed by shadows. He followed her to the bed, watching as she flipped on the lamp on the bedside table, making it warm and inviting. 

Her gaze was intense on him, her hands grabbing the front of his coat and shoving it back off his shoulders. When she gently pushed him backwards onto her bed, he smiled up at her, toeing off his shoes and moving backwards to the center of the bed as she climbed on after him. She quickly pulled off her boots, then grabbing the hem of her sweater, she pulled it up and off too.

Jim's heart raced, and desire he hadn't experienced in years had him rock hard and aching as his gaze moved over the pink lace bra she wore, how her breasts filled it. Jim didn't waste a second getting his hands on her. He stretched out on his back, his hands at her waist encouraging her to straddle him. And she did. She was trembling lightly above him as he took her in, his hands skimming over breasts, down over her stomach.

He was on eye level with her piercing now, the ring decorating her belly button flashing a small white gem. He couldn't resist tracing his fingers over it, now that he got to see it in person. His thumb brushed across the cool metal, then the warm skin around it. She shivered.

Above him, she laughed breathlessly as she watched him.“You like that?” she asked, her voice shaking more from his touch than the question.

“I love this,” he said without hesitation. It was the truth.

She raised an eyebrow, lips twitching with amusement as she tried to catch her breath. “Is that why you liked the bikini picture so much?” Her tone was teasing, but there was something a little vulnerable under it too.

Jim groaned softly, dropping his back onto the pillow for a moment. “God, don’t bring that up.”

“Was it?” she asked again, grinning now.

He gazed up at her, face warm. “It was everything. The bikini, the grin, the belly ring… all of it. You looked so happy in that picture.” He paused, fingers resting just below her waist. “And I just wanted to be the reason you smiled like that.”

Her exhale was shaky. Reaching behind her, she undid the clasp of her bra. When she shrugged it off, Jim got his hands on her breasts, loving the way the stiff peaks of her nipples felt against his palm. He liked the way she pressed herself into his touch, craving more.

"You're beautiful," he whispered. Hooking a hand around the back of her neck, he pulled her down to him for a greedy kiss. 

When he rolled his hips up into her, letting her feel how hard she had him, he drew a low moan from her. His lips blazed a trail down her chin, her throat. Her hands slid under his sweater, her fingers smoothing over his skin, as he captured one of her nipples with his lips. She started grinding down on him as he teased her, using his tongue. 

She was so responsive, so soft and warm above him. But he wanted to see all of her. He needed more. Again, his fingers traced over the jewel at the indent of her stomach before he plucked open her jeans. When he slid his hand into them, into her panties, the "oh" she released had his libido growing fangs. When his fingers slid into all that wetness, it was his turn to groan. It was proof this wasn't a one-sided obsession. She wanted him as much as he wanted her.

"Take these off," he said gazing up at her, loving the way her lips parted at the request.

She climbed off him only long enough to work her jeans and panties off, along with the ankle socks she wore. 

He took advantage of the opportunity to pull his sweater off, to yank his own jeans open and shove them down his hips with his boxers and push them off. He was hard as a fucking rock, fisting himself as he watched her return to him. 

Now, she was as bare as he was. He loved watching her pussy spread open as she threw one leg across him, straddling his hips. The short, neat hair there glistened in her desire. She was warm and wet, and when he rolled his hips up into her, her slick coated his balls, the base of his cock. It was all he could do not to come right then and there.

He couldn't wait to fuck her but there was something he really wanted to do first. 

"Come up here," he whispered, wrapping his arms around her waist, filling his hands with her ass. Then he started trying to pull her up his body. "Get up here."

Jim knew the minute she understood what he wanted. Her hands slid over her face but she wasn't fighting him too hard. He had to laugh at how awkward she was.

"Don't be embarrassed," he whispered. "You're gorgeous. I just need you to sit on my face, so I can taste you."

And once those smooth thighs were on either side of his face, her hands were planted on the wooden headboard, and her gorgeous breasts were just above him, Jim wrapped his arms around them and buried his face in between. He took a long taste of her, working her clit with his tongue in every way he knew how.

And she didn't disappoint him. Within a couple of minutes, her pretty gasps and cries filled the entire bedroom. One of her hands slid from the headboard, down to clutch in his hair, and he fucking loved it.

Jim went at her until her entire body trembled and her thighs shook around him. The half scream, half sob he pulled from her had him doubling down as she came. She rolled off to the side, but he didn't let her go. No, he wanted everything she had to give. Her body curled around him as he lapped at her, as her trembling hands ran through his hair. 

A sharp thud on the other side of the wall made her jump beside him, startled, just as she’d finally begun to catch her breath. A muffled voice followed, something indistinct but unmistakably irritated, shouting about keeping it down.

She slapped both hands over her face. “Oh my God.”

Jim, still catching his own breath, laughed. He was just completely charmed. She was mortified, hair a mess, and absolutely adorable. Grinning, he pulled her hands away. 

“I’m never going to be able to make eye contact in the stairwell again,” she whispered.

He leaned in, stealing a heated kiss from her lips. “I will proudly take the blame.”

“You better,” she muttered, but she was smiling now too.

Grinning, Jim rolled her gently beneath him, his weight braced on his forearms as he gazed down at her. That stunned little smile she couldn’t quite suppress had his heart racing.

“Mm-mm,” he murmured, his voice low and rough, “I’m not done with you yet.”

Her breath hitched as her hands slid up his back. “No?”

He shook his head slowly, dipping to kiss the corner of her mouth, then her jaw, then lower. “Not even close.”

His knees pushed her legs apart, and he was fighting for control when took himself in hand and positioned himself at her entrance. He paused then. Just as he saw worry creep into her expression, he kissed her gently. 

"I've had a vasectomy," he just said it. "But if you'd like to use something..."

"I've got an IUD," she whispered. "And I've only been with one person in the last two years so... I'm clean... I'd love to feel you, Jim."

He fucking loved it when she said things like that.

His next kiss was heated and demanding as he started pushing into her, sucking in a breath at just how fucking tightly she was squeezing him. Her thighs were clinging to his hips, her fingers dug into his back as he sank further into her. Burying his face in her neck, he finally bottomed out, giving her a moment to adjust. The rush of breath she let out had him smiling. 

Yeah, he wasn't a big man in stature and never would be. But he had one significant advantage here.

"Are you okay?" he whispered, pulling up to see her face.

Her lips were parted, her eyes widened on him. "I think so," she whispered. 

His gaze locked with hers, he started moving slowly inside her. She blew out an exhale, hanging onto him. A smile played about her lips. 

"I wasn't expecting that," she admitted, making him laugh. "You're fucking huge."

Jim kept moving, sliding in and out of her easily since she was all worked up for him. Pressing his forehead to hers, he found a rhythm, taking his time as he loved her. It didn't take long until her knees hovered around his waist, her nails lightly digging into his back. Her pussy was starting to grip him now. When he changed angles and pulled a surprised cry out of her, he smiled to find a sweet spot. So he aimed for it again, and again. 

The next cry he pulled from her was louder and he smiled, carefully placing a hand over her mouth. "Wouldn't want your neighbor to complain," he whispered hotly in her ear. 

She clenched around him hard. 

"I need you to be quiet," he whispered. 

This time she shivered and her nails raked over his skin harder. Someone likes dirty talk.

"Need you to be a good girl for me." Did she just whimper? Maybe a praise kink too? When he teased the delicate shell of her ear with his tongue, she started trembling. Oh, she was close. "You're doing so good. You can bite me if you need to."

That cry was sharper, muffled by his hand. 

As much as he wanted to drag it out, he was fucking aching now. While the hand he kept on her mouth was light, her started fucking her hard. Relentlessly aiming for that little spot he found, it didn't take long until she came apart around him, jerking beneath him and moaning under his hand. Jim dropped his weight on her, pinning her between him and the bed, making her take him. He rode her hard through it, dragging it out until her eyes were shiny with tears. Pulling his hand away, she pulled him down to her for a deep, needy kiss. But he wasn't slowing down. He couldn't. 

"Where do you want it?" he whispered against her lips, barely hanging on now. 

"I-inside me..." She was pressing kisses into his neck, wrapped around him like a vine. 

Jesus, I'm not going to survive this. "Want me to fill you up?" he asked, on the very fucking edge.

She was breathing hard, lost to it. But she managed a nod. "Please," she whispered.

That finished him. Burying his face in her neck and the pillow, he growled as he came, pounding into her. The world faded around him as he pumped himself into her as if he were born to do it. His heart hammered against hers as he rode it out, hanging onto her tightly as they moved together. 

For long moments after, Jim lay there, collapsed over her with his ear pressed to her heart. It was strong and steady, the beat matched to his own. Her fingers sifting through his hair felt so good. He was still inside her, breathly slowly. It was everything he'd imagined and more. 

Was it like that for her?

Lifting his head, he gazed at her face. Her eyes were closed, and she looked so relaxed. When her eyes slit open, one of her hands slid from his hair to frame the side of his face, and she smiled.

"How are you feeling?" he whispered against her lips, before stealing a kiss. How would he ever stop kissing her now that he knew he could?

"Wonderful," was all she said. She kissed him back, a slow and tender now. 

Jim tried telling himself he hadn’t meant for it to go this far. But it felt like a lie. Truthfully, he’d been teetering on the edge of this the moment she walked into his life.

But now, in the hush of her bedroom, her body pressed against his, and the scent of her clinging to the sheets and his skin, Jim felt more than just satisfaction. Something shifted inside him, like a wire that had been wound too tight for too long finally snapped free. For a long moment, he stayed right where he was, just holding her. 

Now that he knew what her love felt like, how soft and real, and how completely it wrapped around him, everything else felt ten times more complicated. The lie he lived at home. The marriage already fraying at the edges. The career that was always about being the dependable one, the respectable one. The father, the husband, the safe choice.

And yet, lying here, he wasn’t thinking about what he might lose.