Chapter 61

There was nothing like a long soak in a hot bubble bath to soothe aching muscles and knock the chill, both of which were the result of Rachel’s afternoon of shopping in New York City. Most of her own shopping was done and she had just put the finishing touches on the surprise she had planned for Jon, so the only thing left was sending out client gifts. In Rachel’s business, December was not a restful time so the sooner the holiday presents were bought and wrapped, the better she liked it. 

 

Jon was spending the afternoon and evening with his parents, kids and… his ex-wife. She still wasn't thrilled with him decorating Dorothea’s Christmas tree – something about it just bugged her – but she had decided to just let it go and focus on the holidays. 

After the warming bath, Rachel completed her post-bath ritual of moisturizing from head to toe. That was immediately followed by slipping into the cozy pair of silk pajamas she’d found in the gift-wrapped box on top of the closet island, courtesy of her beau. Jon had his moments of jerk behavior but in his heart of hearts, he was a sweet man. He might not lay her down on a bed of roses, but he was thoughtful enough to at least send them from time to time – along with some of the prettiest lingerie she'd ever seen. 

The soft chime of the elevator alerted her to his arrival and his low wolf-whistle at her appearance made her stomach do somersaults. The pizza he tossed onto the coffee table as he leaned down to kiss her made her stomach do a different kind of somersault and was almost a delicious smelling as he was delicious looking. 

“I brought dinner.” His soft, sultry explanation was unnecessary and his fingers trailing seductively  down the front of her throat made her pleasantly shaky.

“I see that.” The man could kiss her into seventeen different kinds of turned-on, but tonight she was debating which hunger she needed to feed first. “As much as I would enjoy shredding your clothes and having my wicked way with you right here on the couch… that pizza smells so good! I think it appeals to me more than you do right now.” 

Jon hung in the air above her, hovering, daring her to tell him no. “Are you sure about that? I don't think you really mean it.”

Lightning quick, Rachel threw her arm around his neck and lifted her body to meet his, capturing his mouth with a scorching fervor. Her kiss was meant to leave him breathless, for once. When he responded as she intended, his hand wandering up and under the hem of her pajama top and assuming she was his for the taking, Rachel twisted out from under him and reached for the pizza box. 

“You don't really expect to compete with Sal’s sausage and pepperoni, do you? I mean, really?”

Collapsing face-first into the couch, Jon let out a grunt and turned to Rachel with a lopsided grin. “You'll pay for that little tease, Missy.”

“Promises, promises.” She strolled to the kitchen for plates and napkins, returning to find him pouring wine for himself and refilling her glass. “So... what’s your schedule with your kids for Christmas? We're still on for Christmas Eve in California and flying back here that night, right?”

“Yeah. This year I get them the evening of the 25th and they’ll be with me until the 29th. Why?”

“I just needed to get a firm idea of our schedule. New Year’s Eve is a Wednesday and I should be free from any year-end property closings by two o’clock. If it isn't done by then, it’s not gonna happen. I have a little something planned for us that night and wanted to be sure we were alone. Then, there’s the Inauguration in the middle of the month so I need to be sure I have everything in line so I can get away for that.”

“About the Inauguration…” Jon took what seemed like a huge swallow of his wine, quickly chased by another one. “Dorothea really wants Steph and Jesse to share that moment in history with both of their parents and I can see her point. I know you're not a big Obama fan or particularly interested in going, so I figured you wouldn't mind if I took the three of them instead.”

Flu-like symptoms washed over her, leaving her with a queasy stomach and an aching body. He could dress it up any way he wanted but the cold, hard truth was she'd been thrown overboard in favor of the ex-wife’s desires. Silence hung in the air like a thick blanket of fog while Rachel considered how she was going to respond.  

The hand that had reactively fisted itself into her stomach to ease the ache there, now moved to rub her shoulder, perhaps in a subconscious attempt to comfort herself. “I'm beginning to see a pattern here, and I don't like it.”

“A pattern? Whaddaya mean?”

“I feel like there’s three of us in this relationship…. you, me and Dorothea.”

Jon didn't hide his annoyance well. In fact, he didn't seem to even try. “You don't strike me as an insecure woman, Rach. Why’s this becoming an issue all of the sudden?”

Weariness from both the long day and the physically draining bomb he'd just carelessly dropped didn’t leave her much energy or inclination for tact. Frowning, she decided to just shoot straight with him.  “You spend a lot of time with your ex-wife all in the name of your kids. You guys get along really well - you choose to spend a lot of time together. Frankly Jon, it’s crossed my mind that any two people who get along that well, probably should've just stayed married.” 

“Oh come on!! Am I gonna have to do battle with you every time I see my kids?” 

The ‘stink eye’ Jon was famous for didn't begin to compare to the one Rachel shot back at him.   “Don't imply I have a problem with you seeing your kids!”

“Just Dorothea then, huh? You don't mind if I see my kids so long as I don't have a civil relationship with their mother. Is that it?”

“Back off, Jon. I think it’s great that you have a good relationship with her and I'm not jealous of that. But the fact remains you’re not together anymore - a divorce changes the family dynamics. I'm just not crazy about being put on the back burner every time she has other ideas. That’s what it feels like is happening.”

“There are kids involved here!”

It was unusual for Jon to shout, but when he got mad… things happened. The problem with him shouting at Rachel was she wasn't on his payroll and without that level of intimidation, she had no problem shouting right back. 

“I've HAD children, Jon….I get it!”

“OH FUCK, RACHEL! You’ve never had to deal with kids in a divorce. You don't know what it’s like to bring another person into your kids’ life!”

“You've already brought me into THEIR life. It’s Dorothea’s feathers you don’t seem to want ruffled!”

“Well, again, Rachel….you don't have this situation! You don't have to try to get along with your ex-husband to make sure your kids aren't hurt any more than they already have been!”

“Well, geez, Jon…. isn't it handy for you that mine are six feet in the ground? Now all we have to worry about it how your ex-wife handles another woman coming into your life! Doesn't that just make us the luckiest people alive??” With a dismissive shake of her head, Rachel plunked her wine glass on the coffee table and got up from the couch. “Enough! I refuse to spend my evening screaming at each other. I’m going to bed.”

Jon lowered his voice but his anger hadn’t dissipated. Now it was manifested by his clenched teeth and clipped words. “No you're not. You're NOT walking out in a huff. Sit your ass down.”

Whether it was wise or not, Rachel ignored his terse command, continuing around the end of the couch. She found herself nose-to-nose with his infuriated face after he vaulted over the sofa-back and banded notably restrained fingers around her bicep. He didn't exert any force. Rather, his grasp seemed intended only to reinforce his words. 

“I’m sick of you running away every time things get a little rough. I don't want a woman who’s a coward! I want a woman who’s as committed as I am and willing to get in the trenches with me and fight for something. What do I have in you, Rach?”

She jerked her arm away and shot him the most lethal glare she could muster. “Right now Jon, what you have is a woman who refuses to fight. Period. I told you before if you don't know what you’ve got in me, you don't deserve me. Now… I'm going to bed, even though what I'd really like to do is go HOME. But since I was stupid enough to go against my better judgment and come here, I’m stuck for the night!”

Rachel had only thought he was mad before. With that last jab, she had obviously flipped an invisible switch that gave Mr. Charming permission to leave the building – and leave he did. Like the place was on fire. 

Jon’s eyes blazed with the residual flames from that fire when he snarled, “Well I don't want you to feel stuck, sweet stuff, so get your shit and I'll take your ass HOME.”

“Always the gentleman, aren't you darling?”

She heard the venomous sarcasm spraying from her lips, knowing it would only act as a gasoline accelerator to his fury but she had lost the inclination to curb her tongue about the time he called her a coward. Rachel wasn't a coward, dammit, she simply knew the difference between a productive argument and a hurtful fight. This was a fight, pure and simple.

The bulging vein at Jon’s temple threatened to burst when he rubbed at it, teeth once again clenching. He was going to grind those perfect teeth into pearly dust if he wasn't careful. “I don't know how Nick put up with your mouth all those years.”

“He liked all the things I did with my mouth so much he never provoked me into using it for anything else!”

The snide retort as she brushed past him toward the bedroom was like throwing a live grenade into the angry flames. She could almost hear the invisible explosion preceding the comeback that was more toxic and malicious than anything he'd ever said to her.  

“I've had better – I'm sure he did, too.” 

Unable to believe Jon would really be so vile, Rachel was momentarily frozen in her steps until she thawed enough to turn and face him, her face an eerie mask of contrived serenity. “When you've calmed down and thought this whole thing through…? Remember it was ME who wanted to go to bed and NOT have a big mess!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Rachel gathered her things and other than a few ugly barbs, they’d not spoken since leaving Manhattan. The predicted snow storm was in full-force and the drive back to Red Bank was slow-going, the late hour and subsequent lack of traffic being the only favorable conditions on the road. 

Jon had one hand slung over the steering wheel and the other rubbing his continually throbbing head. He knew he'd crossed a line but Rachel had no ability to just go with the flow when it came to his kids. That bugged the hell out of him and his annoyance over it had kept him from immediately trying to make things right. She needed to be more congenial about his responsibilities to his family - Dorothea would never have made such a fuss about him switching plans.

Until she divorced you, dumbass.

When they finally navigated Navesink River Road to Rachel’s house, the broken gates prevented him from driving up to the actual house. Even though he wasn't going to back down, he didn't feel a need to push the boundaries of his dick-dom. Jon had every intention of grabbing her bag and helping her to  navigate the icy driveway but she threw the door open before the gearshift was fully seated in the ‘Park’ position. 

“Just wait for me to help you out!” he growled with utter exasperation. 

He didn’t know if she hadn't heard him or if she simply ignored him but by the time he got to her side of the car she was out and trying to retrieve her bag from the backseat. For somebody who didn't want to fight, she was doing a damn fine job of pushing his buttons.

“Goddammit will you just wait a minute!!! This driveway hasn’t been treated for…” His words were cut off by the ‘swoosh’ as she slipped by him and landed straight on her ass. 

“Shit!” Her cry was little more than an embarrassed whisper. She lay flat on her back, eyes squeezed tightly shut and snowflakes melting on her red cheeks as quickly as they landed.

Jon didn't think she'd ever looked more pitiful than that very moment and it went a long way toward softening his previous annoyance. He extended his hand down to her in a silent offer of assistance. “C'mere. Did you hurt yourself?”

Her eyes slid from his shins slowly upward but never quite meeting his eyes. Resignedly she accepted his hand and allowed him to pull her up, whispering, “No. I’m fine.”

“C'mon ... I'll help you get in the house.”

“It’s okay. I can manage.”

He knew her pride was wounded but would it really kill her to accept a little help from him? “Christ you're stubborn. You're gonna need somebody to treat and maintain the driveway during the winter - that’s why you fell. I'll send somebody over tomorrow morning until you get regular maintenance set up.”

To his surprise, there was no argument, only her quietly uttered, “Thank you.”

With her bag in one hand and her elbow in his other, he began guiding her along the treacherous driveway towards the front door. “C'mon…be careful.” Once inside the foyer, Jon sat her bag on the stairs and dangled the cars keys. “I'll leave the car outside the gate so you'll have it if you need it.”

“You can't walk home in this weather.”

“It’s fine. I'll talk to you tomorrow or…” He ran his hands through the top of his hair and blew out a heavy breath. “Whenever.”

He saw the tears that welled in her eyes as she appeared to struggle with her words. “You don't even have a coat on. Take your car…. I don't want you to walk home.”

How did this night turn into total shit?

He wasn't all that excited about it either but there wasn't the slightest indication – let alone invitation – that would encourage him to stay. Male pride wouldn't let him make the first move toward getting them back on track, so with a weary sigh, Jon kissed the top of her head and murmured a faint, “G’night.”

Rachel held back her tears until the gust of chilly air was cut off by the door closing behind him. He never heard her pitifully mewled, “Please don't go!”. Nor did he see her slump into a pathetic, misshapen heap on the stairs, face buried into her hands to catch the sobs that shook her body to the core.  

No. He didn't see any of that.

Rachel’s pride made sure of it.