20 - For You I Will

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?