The clanging of pots and
pans startled Jon from a peaceful slumber, and he rubbed his eyes to stave off
the light beaming into the room. A quick
survey of the area identified the familiarity of Ariana’s old room.
What time is it?
Late enough so that at
least some of the kitchen staff had arrived.
The walk of shame wasn’t how he’d planned to start his day, dammit.
“Crash.” He nudged her shoulder, but she offered no
movement in return. Damn the woman could
sleep. “Baby! Ya gotta get up. We overslept.
There are people downstairs.”
“Umm, just five more
minutes. Promise,” was her groggy
response.
“In five more minutes, we
could have visitors. We never shut the upstairs door or cleaned up the
bar.” Nudging her a little more firmly this time, he warned, “Do you want Max
walking in here and finding us?”
“C’mon. It wouldn’t be the first time we were
caught.”
“We were younger then, and
that ain’t the memory I wanna relive from my youth. Get up and get dressed.” This time he poked her ankle with his big
toe. “I’ll go downstairs and grab us
some coffee.”
He’d said the magic
word. At least her hand came up to brush
hair from still-closed eyes and the faintest smile tilted her lips. “Ahh coffee.
That sounds amazing. Thanks, babe.”
Jon grabbed his clothes
off the floor and slipped into them. He
didn’t see his shoes any place, but since coffee was in the kitchen and not
outside, he didn’t invest too much time hunting for them. Tossing a glance over his shoulder confirmed
that his very quiet bed partner had fallen back to sleep.
“Wake up,” he commanded
with a slap on her ass. “I’ll be back in five, and you better be up.”
“Okay, okay! I’m up. Go,”
she grumbled, inching into a sitting position.
The last time she woke up in this bed, it hadn’t spun like a
merry-go-round.
Wow. Somebody needs to remind me not to drink like
that again.
When the ride came to a
complete stop, she exited it cautiously and took slow steps toward the
dresser. She dug out an old t-shirt to
go with her shorts from the floor, and carried them both along to the bathroom.
It was tempting to just
get dressed after she answered Mother Nature’s call, but she knew a shower
would be better. Not only would it wake
her from her stupor, it would take away the Stench of Wino fragrance she was
rocking this morning.
Resigning herself to the
extra effort, Ari turned on the hot water.
Twenty minutes later, she
emerged feeling – and smelling – refreshed.
A couple of aspirin and she’d be human again, and Ariana padded into the
kitchen to get some.
“What are you doing?” she
asked in bewilderment when finding Jon there, whistling a jaunty tune as he put
bacon and eggs on two plates.
“Making your breakfast?”
A survey of the stove and
the sink turned up no frying pan or any other evidence of actual cooking. The schmoozer had mooched the food off the
cook.
“You mean plating my breakfast,” she scoffed,
patting him on the ass as she passed by.
“How did you manage that?”
“Magic, baby. People do
things for a happy man.”
“What are you so happy
about?” was her question from inside the cupboard she was searching for
aspiring. Locating it, she popped off
the cap and shook two into her hand before replacing the bottle and
turning. “Did you get my coffee?”
“I wanna live, so of
course I got your coffee.” His grin was
easy when nodding to the steaming cup on the opposite side of the table. “And you have me happy. Ecstatic, actually.”
“God bless you, Mr.
Belvedere.” The aspirin was tossed back
and chased with a sip of heavenly caffeine before she turned narrowed eyes on
him. She’d been asleep and in the
shower. What could she have possibly
done to inspire this… chipperness? “Why
me? What’d I do?”
“One word with three
letters, smartass. Y-e-s.”
She snitched a piece of
bacon while shaking her head. “Yeahhhh…
I did say that a lot. Good sex
will do that to a girl.”
“Say it? I seem to recall you screaming it at one
point last night, but that’s not what I’m talking about.”
Oh, that.
Not that she hadn’t
intended to tell him, but Ariana had gotten kind of caught up in the moment
last night. She still had lots of reservations
and used the bacon as an excuse to put off speaking.
“Ari...” He trailed off at
the look on her face, dropping the silverware on the table to hook frustrated
hands over his hips. “Un-fuckin-believable!
You don’t even remember! I knew
you were drunk, but not that drunk.”
“Hey!” she protested,
swallowing the bite of food and tilting her chin with indignation. “I was very drunk last night – but not
enough to forget what happened.”
“Then what the hell’s with…” His wrist flicked up and down in front of
her, fingertips sweeping the air from her head to waist. “This?”
“I don’t know.”
That answer wasn’t going
to fly, and he set his jaw when demanding, “Why the hell are you unsure? You
told me ‘yes’. “
“Damnit, Jon, I’m trying
here!” The half-eaten piece of bacon was
tossed back onto the plate and she rubbed her fingertips together absently
while avoiding his eyes.
“Ari. Goddammit, you know I’m trying to give you my
all. Don’t fucking throw it back in my
face!”
“I’m not!” She now sought out
his frustration-filled gaze insisting, “Yes, I love you. Yes, I want to marry you. But for God’s sake, put yourself in my shoes
for a minute! Shit – for nineteen
years!”
“Cut the crap, Ariana. I
was ready for this way before now. Don’t act like you didn’t know that.”
“Jesus, Jon! How many more times do we need to have this
conversation? You’ve always known where
I stood on this.”
“Key fucking word, stood.
Past tense.” Getting down into her
face, he demanded to know, “What the hell are you so scared of?”
“Merde! Where do I
start?” Agitated hands flew into the air as she got into his face. “I’m scared of how people will perceive me. Of being labeled a homewrecker. Which brings up a great one – how will your
family see me? If we do get married, they’ll
be my family, too, you know. Having them
hate me doesn’t make for a big, happy holiday dinner!”
If nothing else, her
confession made him retreat. He gave her
plenty of space when pointing a harsh finger and accusing, “You’re impossible,
you know that? You finally admit that you want me to be yours, but now you
don’t want what comes with it. Know what
I think?”
“What?” The surly question
came from behind arms that were folded over her chest.
“I think you’re
looking for an easy way out. Trying to
quash it before it begins.” She opened her mouth to defend her pride, but he
silenced her with a look and plowed forward.
“Do you fucking realize they don’t make love like this anymore? We – yes, we, a single entity. We won’t find this with anyone
else, anywhere else.”
“I know that!” she cried
with exasperation, plopping down into one of the chairs at the table. “And you know I’ve always wanted
you, but I’ve been your mistress for nineteen of the twenty years you’ve been
married. I think I’m entitled to worry
about what people are going to think! I’ve
fought myself about this over and over.”
“Stop fighting. Please just…
just stop fighting.,” he begged, tugging her to stand so that he could take the
seat and pull her into his lap. “We’re
going to be together, and that means a hell of a lot more than what anyone
thinks. We’ll know the truth.”
“I’m trying. I really am.”
“Try harder, because you
can’t tell me that the way you’ve been living makes you happy.”
“I thought I was happy
living this way – until Lili died. Now I realize just how alone I
am. I’ve lived half my life without you,
and I’m not willing to live the other half,” she sighed. “It’s not going to be easy, but yes.
I want this.”
“Then take what you
want. Take me, knowing
that I won’t let any-fucking-body hurt you.”
He laid a vehement kiss on her forehead, accentuating his gruff
oath.
Her lips brushed against
his before declaring, “Because you want me to, I’ll take what I want.”
“Do it for you
first.”
“For us,” she
compromised. “You and me.”
“I love you, Ariana Bon-”
A silencing finger pressed into his lips, and she shook her head.
“Ssh... I love you, Jon.”
“You’re gonna have to hear
it eventually, but you’ve given enough ground for one day, so I’ll back
off.” Strong hands grabbed her hips,
twisting her around to straddle his lap.
“Breakfast is cold and disgusting.
No point eating it. Got any other
suggestions on somethin’ to do?”
With a sparkle in her eye
that rivaled his, she took in every inch of his beautiful face while tracing it
with her fingers. “Don’t you ever get
enough?”
“Nope,” he confirmed
without shame and devilishly bucked his hips.
Her arms wrapped around
his neck as pressed a cheek against his, and the scrape of morning stubble sent
a shiver to her core. Into his ear, she
whispered just as shamelessly, “Neither do I.”
His hand traveled up under
her t-shirt, callouses dipping and grazing over smooth skin. “I think it’s time
we lose this shirt.”
“Oh, but I like this
shirt. It's all worn and washed just right,” she giggled against his neck.
“Oh yeah.” He bit his lip
in appreciation for the light cotton while ignoring the likeness of his friend,
Southside Johnny. If the background had
been any color but white, he wouldn’t have been able to so plainly see the
outline of her breasts and the difference in skin shading over her
nipples.
She tugged on the hem of
her shirt while arching her back, “But baby…
Southside is the #1 New Jerseyan – and pretty hot too.”
“If he’s hot, I’m
scorching.” He gave one of her nipples a
punishing pinch. “And I’m the #1
New Jerseyan.”
“Sssssiiizzzzling....”
rolled off her lips as she poked her index finger on his chest. “And you will
always be my #1 New Jerseyan.”
“Damn right. Now, why don’t we go back to bed?”
She was on the verge of
agreeing when her phone rang on the counter.
For a moment, she considered ignoring it, but thought better of it. She was a business owner now and with that
came responsibility.
“Hold that thought,” she
instructed, climbing off his lap to grab the phone and answer the unfamiliar
number. “Hello, Ariana Moretti. How can
I help you?”
“Mademoiselle Moretti,
this is Urgel Bourgie maison funéraire. Grand-mére’s ashes are ready for you.”
And just like that, a
glaze of tears popped her fragile bubble of happiness.
God, is this ever going
to get any easier?
