Fenny and Josh arrived at the coffee shop down the street from the school at about the same time. After class had ended they’d agreed to meet and chat for a bit, neither one particularly wanting to go home. He ordered a latte of some form; Fenny had never been able to understand the trendy coffee lingo and cringed every time she had to order a “tall hot chocolate” instead of a large, which was as far as her command of the language needed to go. Out of instinct she grabbed a honey straw on her way to the table, where they settled down and smiled at each other.

“So, you wanna talk?” Fenny prompted as she stirred in the whipped cream.

Josh shrugged. “Not much to talk about really. I’m doing what I have to to get by. It’s not an unusual thing. I’m sure you’ve been there?”

“Haven’t we all,” she smirked. “How’d you get into modeling?”

“I was dating an artist, she talked me into it, don’t remember how, she probably caught me in a, uh, weak moment.” He took a gulp of his drink with a coy smile.

“You know, I can tell you that you’re doing a service for burgeoning artists and you’ve certainly got the ideal body for the job, but if you’re not happy doing it, why bother? I mean there’s got to be something else to do, something you’d like a bit better?”

“Not really,” he shrugged. “It’s hard to hold down a part time job and go to auditions at the same time, the schedules don’t mesh.” Josh let out a sigh. “The modeling’s not so bad really, good pay for just sitting around. I just keep telling myself that it’s only for a while, until I get an actual job. If I ever manage to get a real acting job. Actors are falling off trees in this town, the competition’s stiff.”

“Well hey, if you need a reference for your resume, I’m there for you. I’ve worked with some people in town, depending on who you talked to, I could get you some brownie points or I could get you shunned from the production company for the rest of your natural life,” she chuckled.

“Thanks,” he smiled, sipping at his drink. “So, what’s got you avoiding going home?”

“Oh, I’m just afraid if I get home before my husband gets to sleep I might snap his neck,” she shrugged.

Josh chuckled at her and she smiled. “I don’t think I’m the one that needs to talk things through,” he chided.

“It’s the usual thing, I married a moron. Even his daughter thinks he’s an ass, and she’s only four.”

“You’ve got a kid,” Josh gasped. “You don’t look like you have.”

“No, she’s not mine. That’s another story altogether, it helps reiterate the ‘Brad’s an idiot’ theory. The problem now is that I’m feeling a bit under appreciated at the moment, which probably sounds really selfish of me to say.”

“Not at all.” He nodded to her to continue.

“He’d rather I stay at home and watch his kid than do my job and be a productive member of society. He works nights too, it complicates things. And I’m turning into a whiny wife, he doesn’t care about all of the things I do for him, doesn’t care how I feel, doesn’t thank me for anything, doesn’t understand my art and probably resents the fact that I’ve got a job outside the home now because it means he can’t go out partying with the boys from work every night. Actually it’s probably the most normal batch of problems we’ve had since we first got together.”

“Men are pigs,” Josh smiled. “Something about that Y chromosome makes us take women for granted, don’t know what it is. Talking does help though.”

“Talking with us just helps us get angrier. Things’ll cool down and we’ll talk it through and figure out we’ve both been stupid and we’ll move on, it’s a well-established pattern. Infuriating, but predictable. It’s a good thing I’ve got this job now to just get out of the house and cool down.”

“I think it’s a good thing you’ve got this job just because you’re great,” Josh perked. “During the break I heard you helping out that woman with the orange sweater, and that little lecture you gave on basic proportion, you’re probably the best teacher I’ve worked with. I’m not even an artist and that all made sense to me,” he grinned.

“You’re not half bad as a model either,” Fenny blushed. “Want another coffee?”

Gina sauntered into the house with a grin plastered across her face. She’d been too at peace with herself and the world to let even Freya drag her mood down. Danny had appeared as she was preparing to go on the air and declared, “You’re in periwinkle tweed and smiling, spill it, where did you bury Freya’s corpse.” She had told him some choice details about the night she’d spent with Paul that had brightened her mood, he’s grimaced at her in disgust and wandered off muttering under his breath. And now that she was home she wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed with Paul again and possibly pick up where they’d left off earlier.

She wandered through the house looking for him, and noticed her mail on the dining room table which she flipped through absently. Upon not finding anything worth her time, she continued moving through the house and eventually found him sitting on their makeshift bed, leaning against the wall with his sketchpad in his lap and scribbling with a pen. Her red shirt was laid across the foot of the bed. “How did the promos go?” she asked, crawling onto the bed next to him and kissing him on the cheek.

“You know, the usual, bit of chatter about the Kama Sutra and ‘it’s gonna be great,’ that sort of thing.” He closed his book and put it on the floor.

“Thanks for picking up my things. Did you forget the little silver box?” Gina asked, eyebrows raised.

“Who’s Giles?” Paul asked blankly.

“What?” she asked, her voice suddenly sticking in her throat as she pulled away from him.

“Giles. English bloke, bad fashion sense, tall, self-righteous prick. Showed up at your place earlier looking for you.”

“Oh. Right. Him,” she breathed. “He’s the man I was seeing when I was in London last.” She winced at the look on Paul’s face.

“Seeing? Like what, seeing as in dating or seeing as in fucking?”

“I was lonely and trying to get over you.” She watched as he jumped up off the bed and started pacing. “I broke it off with him before I came back here. The second you showed up in Edinburgh, Giles and I were through.”

“Well that’s just great Genie, just fucking great.”

“Like you have any right to be so damn noble,” Gina grumbled, suddenly annoyed by his behavior. “It’s no worse than what you did with Freya.”

“Don’t bring Freya into this,” he moaned, “I’m so tired of everything being about Freya. This is about you hooking up with some Brit named Giles of all things.”

“It isn’t about Freya. But you can’t tell me what I did was wrong and what you did was okay.”

“How is it not wrong?” Paul demanded.

“I thought we were getting divorced at the time—”

“But we weren’t,” he interrupted.

She ignored him. “I was halfway across the planet and at the time I never wanted to see you again because you’d broken my heart, so I wanted someone around to make me feel cared about. And as soon as you were back in my life, I dropped him to have you back. When you were rubbing uglies with Freya, we were supposed to be happily married and you were supposed to be waiting for me to come home, not screwing around with some bimbette. And when I did get home, you refused to leave her because of your mad idea of some sort of honor.”

“Fine, I fucked up, that’s all we ever talk about is how I fuck up all the time. But that gives you the right to do the same thing?”

“It wasn’t the same thing at all,” Gina huffed.

“For Christ’s sake,” Paul hissed and stormed out of the room.

“Just like you, isn’t it,” she yelled as he disappeared from view. “Perfect opportunity to get out of the relationship, you commitment phobic bastard!” She heard a door slam and she slumped, defeated, onto the bed.

Fenny slipped out of her car feeling lighter than she had for a while. It had been nice to get a good vent in and have a normal conversation with a real human being. It was such a pity her closest friends lived so far away, and talking about art had made her wish Paul was still around to talk some sense into her and maybe give her another take on teaching life drawing. And help her deal with the Jenna crisis, she thought miserably as she reached her floor and started down the hall. Her worry for her neighbor hit her full force and she had to talk to her, at least make sure she was doing alright.

Fenny leaned her drawing board against the wall and knocked on the door. She waited a moment, ear cocked, listening for anything unusual, and was about to knock again when the door cautiously opened a bit. “Oh, hey Fen,” Jenna smiled and pulled the door open more fully. She looked tired and was cuddled up in a surprisingly non-Jennaesque set of plaid flannel pajamas. But she didn’t look badly injured or traumatized.

“Yeah, hi,” Fenny smiled nervously. “You didn’t show up for class, your sub said you called in sick, you doing okay?”

“Oh yeah, just peachy,” Jenna chirped. “Think I’m coming down with a cold or something, didn’t think being naked in that drafty room would help much, and it’d be hard to keep the pose if I kept sneezing like I was this afternoon.” She let out a little giggle. “Did you like the guy I called? I picked him special for you, he’s a real hottie huh?”

“Yeah, great guy,” Fenny smiled back. “Well, you should get some rest and I should go see what Brad’s managed to mess up since I’ve been gone.”

“Night Fen.”

“Yeah, feel better Jenna,” Fenny sighed, grabbing her things. “Oh, and if you, y’know, ever need anything, you know where to find me.” Jenna nodded with a cheery smile that looked a bit forced, and Fenny let herself into her apartment. She didn’t know what to think anymore about Jenna; either she was overreacting or Jenna was a better actor than she had expected.

Brad was nowhere to be seen, but his shoes were under the coffee table so she could only assume he was around somewhere. She was putting her things away in the study when he appeared, marching into the room while Fenny staunchly ignored him.

“Fen, can we talk?” he asked firmly.

“We tried that already and it just made me hate you more,” she grumbled.

“Sure, fine, hate me all you want, I’ll keep on apologizing and probably dig myself deeper because you’re so wrapped up in yourself that – see, another hole,” he sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t care if you want to hate me, but will you please talk to Lil?”

“Why, what’s wrong?” Fenny asked, finally turning to face him.

Brad lowered his eyes to the floor. “She heard us arguing and she thinks you hate her. She’s been inconsolable all day, I’m sure the girl I got to baby sit thinks we’ve raised a manic-depressive or something. Please just talk to her?”

“Why don’t you talk to her,” Fenny asked, feeling a bit guilty for forgetting Lilly could hear their arguments.

“Because I’ve tried but she blames me for making you angry.”

“She’s a bright kid,” she sighed, getting up from the desk. “She still up?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

She let out a reluctant huff of breath and left the room, pushing past Brad on her way to Lilly’s room. Gently opening the door, she saw her hunched over her drawing desk in her pajamas, coloring with a box of crayons. “Hey kiddo,” Fenny grinned. Lilly looked up, surprised, and went back to her drawing. Fenny sat on the floor next to Lilly’s chair, trying to think how to have a serious conversation with a four-year-old. “I’m sorry you heard me and your dad arguing, but I don’t hate you. I want you to know that I would never hate you.”

“You said you didn’t wanna be my mom,” Lilly said shakily, raising a hand to wipe at her nose.

“I know I did, sweetie.” Fenny rubbed her forehead. She didn’t want to lie to the child and tell her she was all for being her mother, but she couldn’t very well tell her the truth either. “It’s just that I don’t really know how to be a mom, not really.”

“You’re a great mom,” Lilly declared, abandoning her drawing to sit on the floor with Fenny.

“Really?” Fenny gasped before she could catch herself. She wasn’t sure if that was a good or a bad thing. “Uh, thanks?”

“Cept when you and Daddy yell. That’s not good.”

“Well, grownups have fights sometimes, and your daddy and I are good at them. It doesn’t mean we hate each other and it certainly doesn’t mean we hate you. We’re fighting about grownup things, it has nothing to do with you. So don’t worry about it, okay?”

Lilly nodded and looked up at Fenny. “Daddy’s an ass ‘cause he makes you sad,” she remarked.

“You really shouldn’t say that word Lil, it’s a grownup word. But you’re right, he is,” she smiled and Lilly giggled at her. “So, now that no one hates anyone else, it’s time to get you into bed.”

“Aww, do I hafta?”

“Yes you have to. It’s way past your bedtime and you can finish your drawing in the morning.” Brad watched from the doorway as Fenny tucked Lilly in then quickly scurried to the bedroom where he slid in bed and tried his best to act like he was sleeping, hoping that if Fenny found him asleep she wouldn’t send him to the couch for the night. It was hell not being able to share her bed, not just because the couch was too short for him to sprawl out. He missed her warmth under the covers and her body close to his and her breath against his shoulder and even the possibility of waking up with a mouthful of hair.

Fenny sauntered into the room and he heard her let out a disappointed huff of breath as he strained to keep his eyes closed. She changed into her pajamas, grumbling about charcoal stains on her pants, and slid under the covers. “I know you’re not asleep,” she declared.

“How?” he asked, turning his head to face her.

“You haven’t been in bed long enough, the sheets are too cold.”

“I didn’t want to sleep on the couch again.” She didn’t say anything, just cuddled deeper into the covers. “I will if you want me to.”

“Shut up and go to sleep,” she murmured. With a smile to himself at what he considered a minor victory on his part, he hazarded a feather light kiss on her cheek and settled in bed behind her.

Paul sat on the back veranda staring at the cat. Lewis had padded up as he’d stormed outside to try to think things through, and they’d spent the last probably fifteen minutes staring at each other. He was still convinced Gina had control of the feline in some sort of strange cosmic way, and he was almost compelled to argue his case to the stupid thing just to get it to leave him alone. After all, the point remained that Gina had had a relationship with another man while they were still married, a relationship that was strong enough for the poor man to make the arduous trip from London to Sydney to presumably try and win her over again.

Lewis blinked at him.

Well of course Freya was still stalking him and he’d made Gina watch as he continued messing around with her, but still, that wasn’t the point. Not really.

Lewis blinked at him again and Paul was just about to pounce on the evil thing and wring its little neck, but the back door opened and he dashed inside. A moment later Gina sat next to Paul on the veranda. “I’m not going to go to bed with us still angry with each other,” she declared.

“Right,” he breathed. They looked out into the rather disgraceful back yard for a few moments. “So why didn’t you tell him about me?”

“Well, I’d sent in the divorce papers, hadn’t I?” Gina shrugged. “Besides, you didn’t—”

“I didn’t tell Freya about you either, I know,” Paul grimaced. “Why didn’t you tell me about him?”

“I didn’t want you to get upset. I told Giles I was coming home and that I couldn’t be with him anymore, and I figured we were through. Who knew the idiot would come this far just to mess with me.”

“Were you two serious?”

“I didn’t really think so, but I guess he did.” Gina let out a sigh. “I’m sorry Paul. I don’t really regret doing what I did, because it was what I needed at the time and it’s never really had an effect on you and it shouldn’t be having this effect on you now. But I’m sorry you had to find out the way you did and I’m sorry you’re upset about it. But there’s nothing you can do about it now, and there’s no way you can reasonably be angry at me for having a boyfriend while we were separated, not after you took up with a girlfriend while I was out of town for a few months. Especially after I dumped mine for you and you made me befriend yours.”

Paul dropped his head and pulled his fingers through his hair. “You know, I think that’s why I hate this situation. Everything you did with Giles I’d done with Freya, only worse.”

“Good to see you’re looking at things my way,” Gina smirked.

He looked up at her for the first time. “I’m an idiot, aren’t I?”

“Yeah, but I’m used to it,” she smiled.

“I’m still not happy about Giles.”

“Well I’m still not happy about Freya.”

“He wears beige pants.”

“She drinks organic wine and eats vegan cheese.”

“I’m sure the man has other personality traits I can hate other than he’s had sex with you when I couldn’t,” Paul frowned, “but I’ve not had the displeasure of enduring his company for more than two minutes. But I still wish he would get eaten alive from the genitals out by a flesh eating disease,” he said with a charming gesture of his hands to illustrate the image.

“I have to work with Freya every day and my top fantasy involves beating her with a leg of lamb.”

“That’s your top fantasy?” Paul pouted playfully.

“Well, top fantasy that doesn’t involve you naked with a tub of whipped cream.”

Paul snickered lightly at her. “So what do we do about Giles?”

“Set him up with Freya?” Gina suggested.

He nodded for a second before pausing. “What if they got together and decided to breed?”

“Bad idea then. I don’t care what happens to them so long as they leave us alone.”

Paul nodded in agreement and turned towards the house. Lewis was sitting in a window, eyes closed and licking one paw contentedly. It was a good enough omen for him. “Come on, let’s get to bed,” he said, standing up and holding out his hands to her.