Chapter 81

“Good grief!  This bed was thrashed!”

Rachel could sleep in a bed all week and you’d hardly know it had even been slept in.  Jon’s presence in the same bed brought about a different result even without sex.  Throw a wild sexcapade in there and the sheets would be pulled from all four corners and completely torn off at the bottom. 

The tussled bed was a small price to pay for the sense of normalcy that had returned to the couple, she thought.  Waking in the night and finding him curled around her had felt right for the first time in a long time.  She’d taken for granted the little things of being in a normal relationship and just the sound of him brushing his teeth in the bathroom while she made the bed was music to her ears.

Jon spit out the toothpaste, rinsing his mouth, then wiping the residual water with the back of his hand as he opened the shower door and turned the water on.  “You’re messy in bed, babe.  And relentless, I might add.” 

“That’s because YOU are so persuasive,” Rachel replied, as, in the mirror hanging on the bedroom wall, she watched his reflection step into the shower.  Even with that horrid mess of bedhead, he was a delicious vision. 

“Own it, baby! YOU are the one woke me out of a dead sleep early this morning for round four.” 

Bed finished, she joined him in the shower, luxuriating in the feeling of his soapy chest under her hands.  “I was making up for lost time.”

Jon dropped his head under the shower spray to rinse the shampoo from his hair even as his hands found their way around Rachel’s waist and slid to cup her bottom.  “I’m amazed you can even walk this morning.”

“Walking is only mildly uncomfortable.  Sitting, however, may prove to be a little more difficult today.”

“You love it.”

“Yeah, I do,” she chuckled.  “I love the little reminders allll day long of the things you did to me the night before.  It helps me plot the things I’m gonna do to YOU tonight!”

“Your devious, plotting mind is one of the most attractive things about you.”   He finished rinsing the soap from his body before cracking a playful slap to Rachel’s behind.  “I’m gonna head downstairs and get some coffee going.  You wanna come down or want me to bring you some up here?” 

“Let me just finish my shower and comb out my hair, and then I’ll come downstairs.”

“K. Considering the way you abused my body last night, are you planning to fix me a breakfast feast?”

“Of course!  I want to replenish all those nutrients you sweated out.  Gotta have you in prime shape for tonight’s escapades.”

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

When she found her way to the kitchen a short while later, he was sitting at the breakfast bar talking on the phone.  Nothing unusual about that, because he was always on the phone.  Rachel paid little attention to his conversations at any time and, lost in her own thoughts, even less so this morning,. 

Her coffee was waiting for her, prepared just the way she liked it.  He was a dream with that barista machine, she thought as she reached into the fridge for eggs and assorted breakfast ingredients.  A quick chop of onions and peppers, along with a little ham and her omelet was well on its way. 

Rachel had just poured the eggs into the vegetables when he ended the call.   Still reveling in the returned bliss of her life, she didn’t even notice the silence until he quietly spoke a short time later. 

“I love you, Rach.”

She turned her head over her shoulder and noticed the odd look on his face.  “I know that.  I love you, too.  What’s wrong?”

He was silent, not looking directly at her, but staring at the kitchen wall just beyond her  He took a breath and frowned before finally speaking. 

“That was Jesse.”  He paused, seeming to be searching for words, which struck her as odd considering the man made a living writing lyrics.  “Dorothea is taking the kids to St. Bart’s for their spring break.  Jess asked me to go with them … and I've told him I will.”

The once promising omelet became a scrambled mess as her body went on autopilot while her mind went numb.  She mindlessly stirred the eggs, trying to keep the waves of nausea and light-headedness from overwhelming her.  He may as well have punched her in the stomach, her physical reaction was so intense.  

She finally flipped off the burner and palmed the counter, leaning against it for support, unsure how she could even stand with the bomb he’d just dropped.

The silence was deafening as Rachel fought the feeling of being some cheap, dirty toy Jon kept hidden on the side while continuing to maintain a family with his former wife. 

In her typical mode of self-defense, she cultivated the devastating hurt into anger.  Anger was preferable to the feeling of betrayal, insignificance and worthlessness that he was trying to saddle her with.  This was the exact same thing that happened with his last trip and she realized nothing had changed.  Worse than that, nothing would change. 

“I’m worth more than this, Jon,” she quietly mumbled, proud of herself for maintaining some semblance of decorum by not screaming the words at him until he understood.   

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he barked back, clearly unconcerned with decorum.  He was going right back to the place they’d barely come out of, gloves off and ready to fight.

She turned to face him, refusing to cower at the stove with her back to him.  Rachel would try one last time to keep things low-key, while still standing her ground.  “I’m tired of being the woman you play house with when you’re not playing family with your ex-wife.  I’m not some hooker you've picked up on Main Street to fuck all night before you take off for vacation with another woman.”

His face contorted in a mix of anger and defensiveness, his voice raising, but not quite yelling. 

“Shit, Rachel… She IS the mother of my children for fuck’s sake!”

God help her, she had tried, but if he wanted this kind of fight, she would give it to him.  Rachel didn’t even know she still had the spoon in her hand until she slammed it down on the counter in a rage that had been building for months. 

“DON'T I KNOW IT!!!  Something I'LL never be because you refuse to even consider having a family outside of the sacred one you've created with Saint Dorothea!  How are we supposed to EVER build a life of our own???  You're still tied to the old one!  And I’m little more than something you keep on the back burner… an afterthought!

He slammed his palms down on the bar and regarded her with total disdain.  “I'm SO sick of having this fight every time I spend some time with my kids!!!  When are you gonna grow up and get over whatever your mental hang-ups are?”

In classic Jon and Rachel style, each raised their voice to exceed the other’s and, before long, the yelling had begun in earnest. 

“This doesn’t have a damn thing to do with your kids and you know it!  This has to do with you CHOOSING to keep your two lives separate.  You still see her as the number one woman – if not in your life, certainly in priority.  In your mind she’s the Virgin Mary!!  I don’t have to build a life with a man who jets off with another woman every chance he gets!  YOU haven’t broken that tie, Jon.  The only mental hang-ups around here are YOURS!”

“God forbid I grab every chance I can to be with my kids...”

“Yeah?!  Well God forbid I should actually have a say!  God forbid I should be allowed to be the mother of even ONE child of yours!  It isn’t that you don’t want any more children, is it Jon?  It’s that you don’t want any children outside of that blessed union with Dorothea.  Are you afraid you’ll dilute the royal Bongiovi bloodline if you sire a bastard love child outside of the confines of your ex-wife?”

In all of their arguments, Rachel had never seen anything like the explosion that followed.  It was obvious hers wasn't the only rage that had been simmering just under the surface because Jon was positively wild with fury. 

“Well maybe I don’t wanna have kids with a woman who can’t face up to real life so she runs away from me every chance she gets.  Just maybe I want the mother of my children to stay and fight instead of running away all the time!  Didja ever think of that??!!

She took a step closer to him with no intention of backing down from his nastily hurled accusations.

“Dorothea ran away from you!  Is that why you go sniffing around every time she beckons you???  So you can pick up the tab for some high-end vacation all in the name of giving your children one more precious memory with mommy and daddy?  Seems to me you’d have been better off to have given a little consideration to having children with me – I WANT to be with you.  Maybe your kids would’ve learned a better lesson to see daddy with a woman who wants him!”

He was red faced and somehow reminded Rachel of a spitting cobra, with venom dripping from his fangs when he took his next strike.  

“She may have run away from me, Rachel, but she sure as hell never whined around if she didn’t get my undivided attention or if I didn’t call home for a day or two.  If she had a cold I never heard a word about it.  If you weren't such a whiny, needy, pansy-ass you wouldn't have been at home…” he brought his fingers to the air to illustrate his point with condescending air quotes -  “‘sick’ while your husband took two young kids on a ‘family’ ski trip!  You’d have had your ass where it belonged – taking care of your kids!!!”

Rachel had reached across the kitchen island and slapped him before a conscious thought had even registered in her mind.  His head snapped back and his eyes went huge with shock and instant regret.

“Rach… FUCK!!  I’m sorry – I didn’t mean it.”  He had immediately skirted around the counter and was now grabbing her firmly by the arms, almost shaking her as he ducked his head to look into her face.  “You know I didn’t mean it!”

Honestly, the only thing Rachel knew for certain at that precise moment was that she couldn't stand the sight of the man whom she had declared was the love of her life.  She now understood the comment people often made about there being a fine line between love and hate, and if she had to look at him for one more minute, she was terrified that she would cross that line.

Her voice could only be described as a death whisper when she ordered, “Go home, Jon.....
And stay there.”