Chapter 83

Spring passed into summer, with the weeks and months offering Jon nothing more than the rare sighting of Rachel in town or passing on the road.  When she walked out of his life, she made sure the door to their relationship had firmly closed behind her. 

Even so, he'd picked up the phone no less than a hundred times to reach out to her.  Each and every time, Pride slammed it back down and his good buddy Alcohol hurried in right behind, convincing him it was the right thing to do.  

The funny thing about that was that, eventually, after a little more time together, his good buddy Alcohol would then convince him to pick the phone back up - and revert to his single ways.  He and his new wingman systematically worked their way through his contact list, calling one number after another, reconnecting with women he could rely on – first to serve well in his bed and more importantly, to be gone before morning. 

Rachel, on the other hand, filled her hours by throwing herself into work – and when that distraction wasn't enough to keep her from picking up the phone to call Jon, she ran.  

She thought it ironic how Jon had accused her of always running away when things got tough, because when things really got tough, she actually did run – three to four miles, usually.  And sometimes the angst was so high she ran twice a day.  In fact, most days, she ran twice a day. It was the only thing she could count on to burn enough energy to allow her to sleep without burying her face in a bottle of her favorite tequila every night.

Jon had never really noticed the house next door until the day he found Rachel standing at the gates to it.  Now?  Now it was a constant eyesore he couldn't escape.  It seemed to be visible from every damned room in his house. 

And when the “For Sale” sign went up today, he saw it from a mile down the road, or so it seemed.  All the neon on the Vegas strip couldn't have made that sign any more noticeable to him as he came home from a visit with his kids.  It was like a bucket of ice water had been poured over him and ran straight down his spine.

Where’s she going? 

More importantly, how far away would she be?

Even though they’d been apart for a couple of months now, having her just next door had created a false sense of security that allowed Jon to never quite accept that they were truly over.  In fact, he still carried the key to her house.  It was bizarre and he’d never admit it to another living soul, but it allowed him the illusion that they were still connected. 

His car bypassed its own driveway in favor of Rachel’s.  It wasn't a conscious decision on Jon’s part; it just seemed the SUV had a mind of its own as he drove through the always-open gates that would lead him to her.  Thankful that she couldn't depend on them to open when she needed them to, the access would have allowed Jon to drive straight to the door if he hadn’t spotted her by the pool. 

And, once he saw her, his eyes never left her.

He couldn't recall stopping just shy of the house or shifting the car into park, let alone the walk across the grass that had him standing a foot from her lounge chair.  The ear buds tucked firmly into her ears had kept her from hearing him drive in, giving him a moment to roam his eyes over her prone form.

The turquoise bikini wasn't familiar to him, but the body under it certainly was.  In close proximity, the first thing he noticed was that she had lost weight.  It was evidenced by the pelvic bones protruding above the bottom of her bathing suit and by the smaller, but still enticing, breasts peeking from the tiny, triangular top. 

He was taking inventory of the hollow at her collarbone and the lashes resting on sculpted cheeks when some sixth sense seemed to alert her to his presence. Fluttering her lashes, she used one hand to shade her blinking eyes as she turned in his direction and pulled out the earpieces.

“Hey,” Rachel muttered quietly, her heart pounding fiercely against the confinement of her ribcage.

Some things never change, she thought.  It was the way they had always greeted each other.  She hadn’t consciously chosen the simple, ineloquent word.  It had just habitually fallen from her lips when her mind went numb with surprise at his presence.    

Bending to kiss her cheek like he might an acquaintance at some Hollywood press party, Jon then dropped onto the chaise next to hers with an equally quiet,  “Hey, sweetheart.”

Having him appear from nowhere, without warning made her suddenly uneasy, wondering why he was here. 

This is Jon, she chided herself.  You wanted to be able to be friends.  Apparently, he’s decided to take you at your word.  Offer the man a drink.

She immediately sprang up and walked to the refrigerator in the outdoor kitchen just beyond where she’d been reclining.  Returning with two bottles of icy water, she offered one to Jon before she sat back down on the edge of the chair, facing him but saying nothing. 

“Thanks.”  It was an appropriate reply, Jon thought, yet somehow the conversation didn’t take off like it normally would have with them.  He had to struggle to put more words out there, hoping to lure her into something more. “How’ve you been?”

She nodded as she swallowed and put the cap back on the bottle.  Her back and shoulders were stiff as she leaned forward to gingerly rest her forearms on her thighs but her words seemed relaxed enough.  “I'm… good.  How about you - what brings you by?”

“Hangin’ in there.”  Suddenly, he was lacking that polished swagger he was known for in the media.  Jon felt as awkward as the captain of the chess team asking the head cheerleader for a date. “I… uh… saw the ‘For Sale’ sign and… wanted to come by… Ya know… to see what your plans were.  Is it… okay… that I just… stopped by?”

You’re making him uncomfortable, Rachel.  This is exactly the thing you wanted to avoid.

She leaned even further forward and placed a friendly hand on his knee.  Customary summer cargo shorts left the skin bare and the coarse, masculine hair there felt entirely too familiar under her fingers.  Her hand pulled away almost as quickly as it landed.  Things should be friendly, not familiar.  Right?

Resorting to the water bottle in her other hand, she screwed the top from it again, not actually removing it, but immediately re-tightening it as she strove for the right blend of friendly and honest.

“Yeah, of course… I’m sorry… I… just wasn't expecting to see you and it kinda threw me for a loop.  Of course it’s fine that you came by.”

Jon silently and slowly released the breath he’d been subconsciously holding.  She wasn't kicking him out or overly unhappy with his presence here.  That allowed him to latch onto a sliver of his swagger.  He commented inanely on the weather, willing her to respond in such a way that he could prolong their exchange – and she did.

The conversation covered all the usual, politically correct topics:  weather, family, kids and then work.  What began as awkward and strained smoothed out into the more natural, comfortable familiarity they’d shared as lovers.  Jon found himself watching her lips move as she told him something about the repairs being done on her house, but he was so lost in thought, he didn’t really hear her. 

God, I've missed her.

“So, tell me about your new record.  Is it done?”

“Have dinner with me and I’ll tell you all about it.”  The impulsive invitation came tumbling out of his mouth before he even realized it, but he didn’t regret it in the least.  This was the most normal he’d felt since she walked out of his life and, call him a selfish bastard, but he wasn't ready to let go of that feeling just yet. 

“Mm… I wish I could.  I have to meet a photographer at a new listing in Belmar at 6.”

“I’m pretty sure they have food in Belmar,” he countered.  “Maybe even oceanfront dining – unless you don’t WANT to have dinner with me.”

He could see the wheels spinning in her head and wondered if he should have even offered her the out.  Would more applied pressure have had her agreeing or digging in her heels and refusing?  Right now she was obviously on the fence.  The way she nibbled the corner of her bottom lip told him she was arguing with herself – she wanted to have dinner with him, but she didn’t want to want to have dinner with him.

Rachel worried her bottom lip between her teeth as she argued with herself.  Part of her wanted to extend this time together, but another part of her knew this was an abysmally bad idea.  She’d missed his company so much that this could easily turn into something that it shouldn’t. 

All of her strength and fortitude during the past months could go to hell in a hand-basket if wine and food were added to the mix.  They’d find themselves back where they were; no better off than they had been when they broke up.

“It isn't that.  I'm just not sure that’s a very good idea for us.”

“Aw, c’mon!   As breakups go, I’d say ours was pretty nice.”

“If you can overlook me slapping your face, yeah, our breakup was a Harlequin Romance.”

Her laughter sounded like the sweetest music he’d ever heard.  It had been a long time since they’d laughed together and it warmed his soul.  “Smart ass.  We can still care about and appreciate each other…. remain friends.  Friends have dinner together from time to time, right?”

God she had missed him.  It was dinner.  Nothing more.  Dinner with a friend whose company she had always enjoyed.

“I suppose they do…   You wouldn’t mind me fitting in an appointment?”

Thank you, Jesus, Jon mentally sighed at the same time his mind executed a fist pump.  It was embarrassing, really, how excited he was at the thought of just being in her company. 

The thing about Rachel was that she had stimulated his mind as much as she had his body.  Since she’d been gone, his one night stands with the bimbo crowd had left him more empty than he could ever remember being before. 

He would hand out her real estate flyers up and down Main Street just to feel the way he did when he was with her. Sitting on the sidelines while she dealt with her appointment was a no brainer.

“Nah.  God knows you were tolerant enough of my phone ringing off the hook with one business call after another.”

Her features went from uncertain to relaxed and she smiled at him with a subtle nod.  “Well… sure, why not?  The house is right on the beach – not nearly as nice as your beach place, but the view is amazing.  I think you might actually enjoy it.”

“My first apartment was out by there - I know the area well.”

“Really?  I never knew that.  I've been working so much, I haven’t had a chance to check out the area in detail.  I’ll have to do that to run comps for the bank.”

If he played his cards right, he could spend more than just dinner with her... 

“I’ll take you out there and show you around.  You can do your bank research and we’ll make an afternoon of it.  Whaddaya say?”

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

The summer afternoon passed easily as they drove out to the New Jersey coastal area of Belmar.  Jon showed her his first apartment and surrounding Bradley Beach, even sharing some of the stories of that era and how they’d shot the “Slippery When Wet" album cover in that very driveway. 

There was nothing tense or awkward remaining between them by the time of Rachel’s appointment.  Their natural rhythm returned as if they’d never been apart. 

While the photographer finished up taking the needed shots, they decided the view from the upstairs deck of the property couldn't be beat.  The property was located across the road from the beach and offered unobstructed views of the ocean and approaching sunset, with privacy he’d never find in a restaurant. 

To that end, Jon offered to walk down to the local pizzeria and bring back dinner while Rachel finished up with work. 

When he returned with the pizza and a bottle of wine with plastic glasses from the corner liquor store, he found Rachel alone.  He watched silently as she made some sort of notes on the papers in the blue file she’d carried all day and wondered how on earth he’d ever let her slip away from him. 

When she noticed him there – or the scent of the pizza – she lifted her head and an easy smile made her just as dazzling as the sunset.  “I didn’t realize how starved I was until I got a whiff of oregano.  Are you ready to eat?”

Dinner was simple, the view breathtaking and her company completely captivating.

“Sippin’ wine and killin’ time...”

“I’ve missed this, Rach… just talking with you.” 

“Me too.”

He could feel it.  She felt the same way he did, missed him just like he’d missed her.  He was certain he could see tears beginning to form in her eyes, and the smile she threw him was nothing more than a disguise to cover it all up. 

“Yanno,” he mused tentatively.  “It’s hard to remember why we split up…”

“Well, if we hadn’t walked away when we did, we wouldn’t be able to enjoy this time together – this beautiful view, the sunset... This pathetic bottle of wine.”

And just like that, the woman across from him dropped her head back and giggled.  It was one of the things he’d missed most  - the way she could take some heavy moment and find the lightness in it.  It made him laugh right along with her. 

“It's pretty bad, isn’t it?” 

“It IS!  What were you thinking?”

“Hey!  I’ll have you know I paid twelve bucks for this bottle of wine at the Mini-Mart-slash-gas station down the street.  The good news is I've had so little, I won’t have any trouble driving.”

With their dinner over and the sun now long gone, Jon became a bit wistful.  He knew the evening would end once they made the short drive back home.

Unless he could find a way to extend it...

He was out of practice in trying to woo a woman.  Sorely out of practice.  His arsenal of charm and schmooze was empty and he couldn’t even recall any of the patented Sambora Slickness moves.  It had Jon resorting to throwing out the only bait he could think of on such short notice – listening to his own record.

“I know a great place down the road with a much better wine selection – and I could probably be persuaded to give you an advance listen of the new record.  You were an influence on it, and God knows you’ll never BUY it…. Whaddaya think?”

The amusing way she rolled her eyes at him, feigning annoyance, was as familiar to him as the back of his hand. 

“Just because I’d never heard of your last record doesn’t mean I wouldn’t buy THIS one….sheesh….”  Blonde locks shook slithered back and forth over her shoulders as she shook her head with a laugh.  “I’ll never live that down…”

“Got that right!  No way will I ever let you live that down.” 

Even as the amusement lingered on her face, she hesitated and Jon feared for a moment that she was going to decline. 

C’mon, Rachel.  Don’t do what you think IS right, do what FEELS right. 

“Fine.  I’ll take that bribe.  Some obscenely overpriced bottle of wine in your collection while I listen to the lastest Bon Jovi creation… I feel so special.  What’s the name of this new masterpiece, anyway?”

Whether she was subject to his mental telepathy and encouragement, Jon would never know – and didn’t particularly care.  Things hadn’t been this light between them for months before they broke up, and damn, if it didn’t feel good.  He just wanted to feel good a while longer and her acquiescence gave him a shot of silly adrenaline.

“Ah ha!!!” he laughed with relief, waggling a triumphant finger in her direction.  “You already agree it’s a masterpiece!   Good to know all that hard work I did to brainwash you wasn’t totally wasted.” 

Jon had always thought to himself that Rachel felt like ‘home’ and, finding that he was a little drunk under the influence of her giggles, his epiphany now became even more profound: 

If ‘home’ had a soundtrack, it would be their voices laughing together.