Chapter 64

“I don't want to be anywhere, with anyone, that you’re not part of that equation. You keep talking about commitment… Commitment is marriage, Jon, but you’ve already told me you're not sure you ever want to get married again and that you're certain you're done having kids. I don’t know if that works for me.”

If her declaration had hit a raw nerve, Jon didn’t show any inkling of it. He didn’t withdraw his body from hers and he didn’t miss a beat responding with his own thoughts on the subject.

“Marriage is little more than a piece of paper, Rachel. You know that as well as I do. If two people aren't committed, then that piece of paper won’t hold them together. By the same token if they ARE committed, they don’t need the license. Either you’re in or you’re out and, right now, I’m a little concerned you’re not all in.”

While his concerns didn't exactly thrill her, the overall tone of the conversation did. They were talking about the elementary relationship basics two people should be able to talk about without raising their voices and being defensive. Rachel didn't agree with Jon’s perception about the meaning of marriage and, though she didn't want to start another fight so soon, they needed to work past the tension to find acceptable common ground. 

“I guess I don't see marriage the same way as you. Being committed to somebody is all well and fine but at the end of the day…  Well, if you don't have marriage to tie it all up, what keeps you from throwing your hands in the air and walking away when things get tough? To me, that piece of paper says ‘we started this, we'll finish it… a deal’s a deal’.”

Jon drew in a breath to interrupt but Rachel wasn't finished. One finger to his lips brought a playful nip and a grinned acquiescence from him as she continued.

“It’s more than paper, it’s a contract. You and I work with contracts all day long. We have to because a verbal agreement doesn’t mean shit when two people get mad and decide they want out of a deal.  What keeps a lot of business deals together IS that contract – that simple piece of paper.”

Rachel could see the wheels working in his mind and allowed the silence to hang in the air, giving him time to process what she'd said. 

“Maybe we see marriage differently because I've gone through a divorce and your marriage ended for different reasons. Are you saying you want us to get married?”

The question momentarily stole the air from her lungs. They were talking about marriage. Out loud. 

Do you?

‘Til death do us part’ had seemed the far, distant future when she'd first uttered the phrase to Nick. Being young and in love was a different kind of mindset – you didn't really think about the day you said goodbye to the one you were vowing to love, honor and cherish for the rest of your life. It was just part of the ceremony -  the pomp and circumstance - that accompanied the lacy white dress, three-tiered cake and throwing of the bouquet.

An older, wiser Rachel had maturity on her side. She knew now that marriage was beyond love and lust. And, in her case, ‘til death do us part’ had come too fast and stayed too long. All those vows had a completely different meaning to her when she considered saying them to Jon at this stage in her life as opposed to all those years ago with her late husband. 

She knew she'd been utterly miserable the past few days without him. But did that mean she wanted to commit the rest of her life to this shaggy-haired, ill-tempered rock star who didn't seem to believe in marriage and refused to give her more children? 

“Rach?” Her thoughts were interrupted by Jon’s tap to her hip. “You zoned out on me, baby. Are you saying you want us to get married?”

She only briefly looked into his eyes before her own filled to the brim with tears. She knew that this man was the closest thing to destiny she'd ever known. He was her future. 

“Not today, but down the road…  Yeah I think marriage will be important to me.”

Jon ran his hands across the scruff on his chin, as he often did when preparing to make a point and Rachel’s fairy-tale moment passed like his skin over the whiskers. He was continuing to have a practical conversation, while she’d gotten lost in the emotion of love. Only moments before, she was the one reminding herself decisions had to be made based on rationality.

Some things never change. Girls will be girls.

“And kids…. that’s something you now want?”  His eyes were intently focused on her, seemingly looking for some type of clue to the inside of her mind. “You didn't when we first met – I know because I specifically asked you that question.”

“I… don't know. I mean, until you brought it up the other night I hadn't considered it an option for me. But YOU pushed me in that direction.” 

Rachel flipped to her back, resting her hand on his lower abdomen and absently played in the tuft of hair just below. Now it was her turn to walk the razor’s edge between a loving conversation and a defensive retort.  

“It’s not as if we're having a conversation about whether or not to have a child. You've said you're not interested and I'm left to make the decision if that’s alright with me. It’s a take it or leave it kinda thing.” She took a deep breath and admitted, “I don't like the feeling of having a decision made FOR me by you and you alone, I know that much.”

His smile brought her nerves down a notch while his gentle kiss and quiet voice calmed her back to a relaxed place. “I know how much you hate being told what to do, and I don't mean to come off like a dictator. You told me before – last summer in the Hamptons – that  you wouldn't try to have more kids because it was a different time, a different you. Has that changed?”

“Of course it’s changed.” Rachel’s voice was purposefully even quieter than his, keeping both the mood and the conversation intimate with their hushed tones and gentle way they touched. “I fell in love with you and that changed ME. I’d put all aspirations for a normal life with a man and a family out of my mind. Then you sauntered in and I've been trying to catch my breath ever since. Hurricane Jon… it’s a powerful force, ya know?”

He let out a half-chuckle. “Funny… just tonight I was thinking YOU were the powerful force.” 

The kiss that followed was soft and deep at the same time, leaving Rachel less interested in talking than she liked to admit. Jon, on the other hand, seemed to find it easier to withdraw his mouth from hers and get back to the business at hand. 

“So, is the real issue babies versus no babies or that you don't feel like you've had a say in that decision? Those are two different things.”

She felt just a little defensive and it showed in her barked response. “Oh, I've had NO say in that decision…that’s for sure.”

With just the swiping of his finger over her bottom lip, Jon brought things back to a neutral playing field. The man could be calm and cool when he really wanted to, she'd give him that much.   

“Stay focused. Do you actually want to start another family? Just think about that….not whether or not you can or whether or not I want to. What do you want? Is it pregnancy, babies and raising kids for the next eighteen years? Because that would change the life you and I have together. I’ll be gone, you’ll be home raising kids. That’s the reality. It’s not a white picket fence with a traditional husband-slash-wife lifestyle. If you’re talking about a life with me, you're gonna have to decide if the reality of children fitting into that life is what you want.”

“And what if it is?”

“Then we have a problem that we'll have to resolve. But if you decide the reality of a family with me isn’t the family you've imagined - because it won't be anything like the family life you’ve had in the past with Nick - then we remove that bone of contention between us.”

Rachel had just gotten her first taste, up close and personal, of CEO Jon. She wouldn't have thought he was as astute at this as she was but the proof was in the pudding. He had her considering his side a lot more in depth than he was considering hers. It was… amusing at the least and maybe the sexiest light she'd ever seen him in. 

It was time to use her amusement for good instead of evil and lighten the mood. 

She turned to her side, facing him, sliding her leg back between his and making her arousal and intentions clearly obvious. “I feel like we're in negotiations… ‘conflict resolution’.”

His body responded to her exactly as she intended, his hand sliding down her back. His teeth scraped her earlobe before whispering, “You haven't called me an asshole yet, so I think we’re making progress.”

                               

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

Tired. 

That’s the word that Jon thought would best describe how he felt as he groggily stumbled down the back staircase to Rachel’s kitchen, praying to the good Lord above that she'd set the automatic timer for the coffee to come on. He could handle the long, late nights of frolicking around in bed with her but this emotional shit was going to be the death of him. He didn't have the patience to wait for coffee to brew this morning.

Bare feet stepped off the stairs onto the cool hardwood floors and he smiled as the familiar scent of her favorite French Roast carried across the kitchen. He was a coffee junkie and Rachel wasn't far behind him. She got forty-eleven different kinds of excited at the first sip of her favorite morning beverage and both of them wanted a cup the minute their feet hit the floor. The only thing that would make her happier would be breakfast in bed. 

Jon reasoned he could throw together something edible to accompany the coffee. 

Grabbing a mug from the glass cabinet, he poured the dark liquid and took a sip, his mood spiraling downward as quickly as he turned around.

The Christmas tree in the corner of the family room was enormous and the packages surrounding it were elegantly wrapped. It  looked like a holiday postcard. The problem was, Jon knew decorating the tree was Rachel’s favorite holiday tradition and even though he'd promised her they would get a tree and trim it together, she'd obviously done it alone.

The one thing she'd had her heart set on doing, he’d fucked up. And that made him feel… sad. 

You screwed the pooch on this one, Bongiovi.

Opening the refrigerator door, he took out a few eggs to scramble and figured he would attempt to fry that God-awful turkey bacon Rachel insisted on eating. He cracked four of the eggs into a bowl and was trying to come up with a plan to remedy the fiasco when his thoughts were interrupted by what sounded like the cracking of a whip.

What the hell?

“Mornin’…   I found your belt hanging off the staircase.”

That explained the snapping sound. He'd found his jeans lying next to the bed this morning but the mystery of where the rest of his clothes had ended up last night was still unsolved, making him grateful for the couple of ratty t-shirts that had been left at Rachel’s these past few months. Without them,  he’d have been retracing their steps from last night, trying to find something to put on. 

“Great. Did you happen to find my socks, too?”

“No socks, sorry.” Rachel stepped into his open arms, wrapping her arms around his waist, accepting his puckered lips to hers.  

This man wasn't the man in magazines, she thought to herself with contentment. No, this man had the most atrocious bed-head ever known to exist. There was gray in his beard, his t-shirt had a hole in the armpit and his lips were chapped from the night spent kissing. To her, he was beautiful.

“Mmmn... smells delicious. Is there coffee?” 

“There’s your version of coffee, already brewed. You're really gonna have to get a decent barista machine.”

“I refuse to learn how to operate a coffee machine like yours. It’s a nightmare.” Rachel poured her coffee and refilled his before retrieving silverware from the drawer for their breakfast. “ How'd you sleep?”

“For the couple of hours you let me sleep, I slept great. The rest of the night I was servicing your delightful little body, thank you very much.”

“And you get a gold star for that, babe.” She offered him a wink and asked, “What’s on your agenda today?”

“Writing and recording…or something that resembles those things. How about you?”

“More of the same year-end drama in the wonderful world of real estate – a little wailing, a little gnashing of teeth. Would it be okay if I stopped by the studio today and watched you guys in action? Or is that taboo when you're working?”

He kissed the top of her forehead and reached around her, delving into the cabinet for plates. “You can come by the studio any time you want, no matter if we're working or not. Nothing’s off limits for you but why the sudden interest in my music?”

“I'm turning over a new leaf,” was her sheepish, simple response. “I told you I’m going to pay more attention to you and to the things that make you… you. I have twenty five years of your musical life to catch up on.”

After plating their food, Jon turned the stove off and leaned across the island counter to set their breakfast on the island. “I don't need a groupie, I need you. Just you... just like you’ve always been.”  Walking around to the bar stool beside hers, he kissed her forehead again and sat down to join her. “On another note, I see you got a Christmas tree.”

She shrugged. “I had a lighter day yesterday than I expected and I wanted to get in the holiday mood.”

Chewing on a bite of toast he considered whether to call her out on her blatant lie. In the end, Jon decided the light and breezy response was Rachel’s attempt at moving past their disagreement and decided he'd play along. “In the spirit of Christmas, I'll let that bullshit explanation slide and just apologize for spoiling that for you. I know you were looking forward to decorating the tree and us doing it together.”

He knew he’d hit the nail on the head when Rachel turned her face away in the name of sipping her coffee and then set the mug down and continued to avoid eye contact with him. 

“I’ll live.”

Damage control was his specialty and thinking fast was second nature, thank God. It allowed him to keep things spinning in a positive direction.

“If you’re up for it, I thought it might be fun to stay in the City this weekend – we could decorate a tree there, go out for dinner… interested?”

She nodded agreeably but didn't seem overly excited by his managerial brilliance. “Sure, if you’d like to.”

If Rachel wasn't going to look at him voluntarily, he would help her out. Jon turned her bar stool to face him. He would get them back on track before the morning was completely derailed due to his idiocy.

“I know a little place that offers high-end tequila tastings. Would that get you in the mood to forgive me for being a total dick?”

He could see her grin fighting to stay hidden but she couldn't quite pull it off. The mischievous eyes he'd come to adore met his. “’Tequila’ and ‘dick’ in the same sentence? Really? Are you planning to get me drunk enough to unzip your fly and blow you?”

There she was. His playful girl was right there in the same room with him – the spark in her eye, the flirting tone, the way her body leaned into him. Christ, he'd missed her.   

“So does it take tequila for you to be persuaded to unzip my fly and blow me or would coffee do the trick?”

“Your coffee could probably persuade me to do more than that.”

“I swear, behind that innocent, angelic face there’s horns and a pitchfork….”

“Which is why you like me so much.”

“S’true….” He'd slid off his barstool to straddle her legs with his and nip at her ear. “Do you notice how ‘awkward’ disappears between us so easily?”

“Yeah. A little like our clothes. Some days I wonder why we bother to get dressed at all.”

“Oh, I can tell you why I get dressed. It’s because I don't want to deprive you of the pleasure of UNdressing me.”

“Yeah, you’re the thoughtful one – that’s pretty much been established the last few days.”

Acknowledging the jab, he spun her bar stool to once again face him and took her hand. An easy tug had her pulled from the chair and he playfully dragged her up the back staircase. “Sweetie, will you follow me upstairs? And while you're behind me, beyond lusting after my ass, will you take that knife out of my back?” He got chills from her happy giggle.

“I think that butt of yours may be enough to make me forget what I was mad at you about in the first place.”

“Christ, I hope so. If not I'm gonna have to resort to diamonds, and I tell ya…  at the rate I’m going with you, that shit’s gonna bankrupt me before I ever see Valentine’s Day.”