Chapter 140

Jon stood out on the balcony off his bedroom. The clear, almost spring night was crisp with a light wind and a star filled sky. Exactly the kind of night he’d stand outside with Tessa. The easy way that she’d settle back against him, his hands around her waist, her back to his front—he missed it in ways he’d never have admitted to anyone. It had had been that way for countless nights, even on the super cold ones.

But he stood there alone today. He thumbed the crack in his cast where he’d banged it against a wall—again. At least the cast took the brunt of the impact this time. He hitched his sweatpants that were falling low on his hips. He’d lost weight again. Sometimes he wanted to be that guy that gained weight in stress, instead his metabolism worked overtime dragging him back to those days of his twenties when he was a scrawny piece of nothing.

He puffed out a stream of smoke. He was back to nearly a pack of cigarettes a day since she’d been in the hospital. Something to do, something to keep his hands occupied, something that he could control—if he was going to be honest. But what else was 3am for, if it wasn’t for honesty?

In his head he knew that Tessa was just trying to get back to normal, to push away the pain. He’d done the same when his divorce had become final. But that was a different sort of pain. The failure was there, as was with Tessa, but the pain was only a memory. It was an ache for what had been. This? This wasn’t something he could even assimilate.

He’d been a lucky man for more years than he could remember. The golden horseshoe up his proverbial ass, but this—the loss so sharp and all encompassing. He’d been aching for the day she’d wake up, so he had someone to share it with. The only other person that could really understand him right now and she was pulling away.

He flicked his butt away and closed the French doors, climbing back into his empty bed. He stuffed his good hand under his head and stared at the ceiling, waiting out the hours he’d have to wait before he saw her again. The fear that had been clawing its way through his gut was in hibernation.

For now.

~

Tessa smoothed her hand over the soft pants and oversized shirt Nic had brought her. Checkout was at eleven, but she’d been dressed since dawn. The drawstring of the pants rubbed against her stitches, each tugging reminder of why she’d been cut into. She’d just have to wear a dress for the next few days.

Visits from her employees at the store had killed the better part of her early morning, and a stilted call from her sister left her hollow. The years had made them strangers in every way. And the cry in the background had left a pulsing ache behind her eyes. She had a niece. A little one that she’d never even known about. Strangers. That’s all they were now. She really didn’t have anyone besides Nic and—she closed her eyes.

She looked up, the doorway filled with him. His impossibly blue eyes shuttered with hurt, but a trace of defiance was there too. Her Jon. As long as he wanted half of a woman, well…then she had Jon as well. She stood, meeting him halfway. Battered boots, jeans and her favorite shirt pulled across his chest. She fingered the blue button against the navy corduroy, finding a hint of heat and chest hair, just like the first time she’d seen the shirt. The first night she’d been with him.

She looked up at him, the same sandy bangs, overlong and brushing his brow, but the eyes were different now. Pain and love mixed there. Both were her weight to bear. She lifted a hand to his cheek, to the near beard he was sporting, dotted with grey and the dark brown of his natural coloring.

She rubbed her thumb over the now hidden dent of his chin, up to his lower lip chapped raw from biting it like he did when he was worried and the chaffing wind. For a man that took grooming so seriously sometimes she wondered how he forgot chapstick. Acting on instinct she lifted onto her toes, brushing her lips over his.

As she lifted, his buckle brushed against her stitches and she drew back. He caught her around the waist, drawing her against him once more. The kiss held no heat, but the connection that was such a part of them sparked. She felt the quick prick of tears at her eyes and pulled away, slipping from his arms. “No cavalry? Just you?”

His good hand was now a fist as his eyes went flat. “I’m hoping I’m enough.”

She turned back to him, swallowing down the lump in her throat. “Of course you are,” she looked away from him. Her chest tightening with emotions she couldn’t handle. The question would be, was she enough?

She tucked her notebook and purse into the overnight bag Nic had provided. “I’m just waiting on the doctor’s discharge papers and we can go home.”

“My home? Or your home?”

Her fingers stilled over the zipper. His voice was rough with uncertainty and brimming emotions. She ached for the quiet comfort of her little cottage house, but his mansion had also become home. She’d dropped her touches everywhere in the master suite and living room they used for quiet time. It had become theirs as much as anything could have.

She turned, seeing just what her absence had done to him and twisted her fingers into his. “Ours. I may not find that huge palace of a home completely mine, but our wing of the house is just what I need.”

The relief in his eyes was evident and she knew she’d made the right choice. Her home was with him for as long as he would have her.

Janet bustled in with paperwork and the doctor. “Hiya baby girl, you really ready to leave me?”

She smiled at the ever moving nurse. “I’m soo ready to get out of this hospital, but you were the very best part.”

Dr. Esser stepped forward. “I checked you earlier this morning, but I just wanted to give you some literature about the coming weeks. What you can expect as your body heals, the hormones that will probably make you a little crazy for awhile.” The doctor pressed a packet of booklets into her hands, meeting her eyes. “Grief counseling,” Tessa shook her head, “if you need it,” Dr. Esser finished.

Tessa shoved the bundle into the front pocket of her bag without looking. “Thank you.”

The doctor sighed, handing over the forms. “Just sign these and we’ll have Janet wheel you out.”

“I can walk,” she said and lifted her chin.

The doctor raised a placating hand. “I know you can, but—“

“Hospital policy!” Janet chirped and tugged a wheelchair from the hallway, into the room. “I get to give you one more taste of Nurse Janet before you go home and ruin all my hard work.”

The warmth in Janet’s voice was enough to have her sit down in the chair. She looked up at Jon, who already had her bag. “Ready to blow this joint?”

His mouth quirked in that endearing smirk she loved so much. “You bet.”

The trip down to the car was without incident. She listened to Janet’s happy voice bubble over the entire way down, hugging her as Jon waited for her. “Thank you,” she whispered.

“He loves you like crazy. You don’t get that but once or twice in your life. Don’t waste it.”

She nodded, pulling away as the outside world waited for her…finally. Janet’s words resonated deep as she waited for Jon to pull his car up. Before she could really think too hard about it, a decidedly soccer mom car pulled up with her less than soccer dad looking man.

He rounded the car, opening the door for her. “Your chariot awaits.”

“A mini van?”

“A Volkswagon Touareg thank you very much.” He retorted.

“Mini Van.”

“SUV,” he allowed. “Jesse and Jake are now both doing football and soccer. I needed a kid car to help out Dot.”

“It’s very becoming,” she said with a laugh. “Hottest Soccer Dad on the block.”

“Shut up.”

She listened as he told her about the kids, about Richie and Ava—as he filled the silence with stories and words. Until they simply stopped flowing. Until the house loomed before them. Huge and perfect. The French influence there in the wrought iron rails that covered the balconies, the pristine white window panes and the perfectly aged yellow of the plaster. His home.

He opened the door for her again, easing her out of the car with his good hand. The conversation was stilted now. He opened the door and it felt familiar and foreign at the same time. The wide staircase that she’d run up with him a million times. Soft lights and polished marble and there standing with her hands twisted.

Lottie.

She bustled forward, her arms outstretched. “Oh Miss Tessa,” she said, tears glistening in her dark, all too knowing eyes.

She smiled brightly. “C’mon now, no tears.” Tessa pushed forward, hugging her quickly. “I’m okay. Jon’s going to drive me crazy for the next few days by waiting on me hand and foot,” she looked over her shoulder, “right?” When he nodded she turned bac to the tiny little housekeeper. “And then I’ll be right as rain.”

Jon just grunted and steered her toward the stairs. “I’m going to get her settled.”

“I have soup and a thermos of tea waiting for you upstairs. Hospital food, shouldn’t even be classified as food,” she clucked.

Tessa grinned, finding her fingers wound through Jon’s left hand as he slowly walked up the stairs. Instead of complaining, she simply let him take care of her. Richie’s voice rang in her ears. Maybe letting Jon take care of her a little would help him move on too.

They got to the top of the stairs, Richie standing in the hallway. She couldn’t quite meet his eyes. She could still feel the disapproving glare, even though he hid it from Jon. “How’re you doin’ Tess?”

She slid her hand around Jon’s forearm, drawing slow tracks through the hair there as she felt him relax against her. Familiar. Right. This is where she should be for now. “Better.”

“Good to hear,” he nodded to Jon and melted back into the shadows.

“He didn’t have to go.”

Jon flicked a hank of her hair that had grown out to her shoulders. The neon green of the cast burning bright against his pale skin. She cradled his broken hand in hers, bringing the purplish fingers to her cheek. He cleared his throat. “He just wants to give us a little time to settle in. Then you won’t be able to get rid of him.”

His fingers dropped away and she followed him into their room. Again, the familiar and the strange coalesced until she had to close her eyes for a moment. Their bed lay made and pulled back. Her favorite sateen sheets looked inviting and yet cold at the same time. Could she get back into a bed with him? Was that where they’d made the—She bit her bottom lip until the ache backed off.

They’d been careful and careless too many times to count, but part of her knew just when that baby had been created. The timing was right for the hotel in the city—when they’d come together so sweetly and so overwhelmingly. She slid her hand across her belly where the stitches tugged until that night dissolved.

Sunlight poured into the room and she moved to the French doors, pushing them open until the water and the early spring warmth diffused the memories. She heard him bustling around, getting her clothes ready. Drawers opened and closed as he put her things away.

She turned around to see him place the brochures into the top drawer of their shared dresser and looked back out on the river. She hadn’t missed the slight slump of his shoulders or the way his head tipped forward in thought. When he closed the pamphlets away, she braced herself for him.

But he said nothing, just stood behind her, pulling her back against him, his hand gently covering her middle as his bristled chin rested on her head. They stood that way for awhile, watching the sun slowly slip over the horizon, through the trees as the light breeze pushed away a few of her demons.

For now.