139: Turkey Talk

He loved holidays like this, Jon thought while sipping wine in the office doorway and surveying the people scattered around his living room.  Having the whole family here was different than a backyard thing at Matt’s or birthday thing at Tony’s.  This was his domain filled with the people he loved most, and it sated his soul in a way few other things could.  

The counselor’s clan blended with his crew felt right, and he could easily imagine this same scene for Christmas and for holidays years down the road.  The only thing that didn’t sit right was the technicality that this was “her” family and “his” family.  She was undoubtedly part of his – just ask Lilah – and the Del Vecchios were coming to feel that way to him, too.

Luke he’d liked from the first moment they met, and the reserved Dominick was warming up.  He was over there shooting the shit with Jon’s dad about the pros and cons of different tomato varieties while Mr. Del Vecchio listened in and Tony offered the occasional opinion from the floor, where his kids and Nana were climbing him like a pile of rocks. 

Mrs. Del Vecchio and Jon’s mom were on the blue couch with Vivi, all looking happy enough discussing whatever women discussed and smiling at the little kids.  Vince and his family weren’t here yet, but even the bristly cop was starting to become likable. 

Stephanie and Sydney were around somewhere, while the rest of the females –Desiree, Lilah and the counselor – were doing kitchen stuff.  Last time Jon saw Matt, he and Luke were in the marble entryway with a pile of cushions, supervising Matt’s two kids and Romeo sliding down the bannister.  It was the perfect, smoothed curve for sliding – which Jon may or may not know from experience.  What he did  know is that it wasn’t a smart idea to take a ride on that thing while drunk. 

Chiara’s boys and his two oldest sons were bringing up the massive projection television from its storage place in the floor so that they could watch the traditional Thanksgiving football games.  Jesse was enthusing about it being the best part of the holiday and Jake was arguing with Noah about who was going to win today.  Caleb was the only one who didn’t look too excited about football.

That worked out well for Jon, who wanted to talk to the counselor’s younger child.

“Caleb.”  When his dark head spun toward the doorway, Jon used one hand to beckon the boy and slipped inside the office.  By the time he got to the piano, Caleb was there with him.   

“What’s up?”

The kid was suspicious.  All week, he’d been a little withdrawn and on edge, as though he was trying to avoid being hit by any more sudden and life-altering events.  Jon thought the kid was justified considering things had been coming at him fast and furious lately, and it was part of the reason for this talk.  Caleb could use a gradual introduction to the next change in his life.

“The turkey’s deep-frying outside and Jake and Romeo have lost interest.  Come check on it with me.”

Lanky shoulders lifted under a hooded sweatshirt in a shrug of indifference before he scratched at his blonde-tipped head.  “Okay.”

Leading the way out the office’s other door, they passed through the entryway just as Isabella came flying off the banister into Matt’s arms.  Jon chose to bypass the women in the kitchen, placing his empty wineglass on the dining room table when they cut through there on the way outside. 

“Apparently frying turkeys lose their cool factor after the initial sizzle,” he remarked casually.  “And my kids don’t want to watch a bird boil for a full forty-five minutes.”

“I hope you don’t expect me to be excited about it.”

The dry sarcasm sounded so much like Chiara that Jon grinned to himself.  In reality, the bird didn’t need to be watched, but it was quiet outside – and private.  The river breeze also made it cooler than he liked, but Jon crammed both hands into his pockets and overlooked the air’s slight bite.

“No excitement required.  I really just wanted to talk to you.”

That was all it took for the boy’s wary eyes to go hard.  Too many shitty conversations had begun that way in the last month, and he was clearly bracing himself for another when they arrived at the deep fryer. 

Jon pretended not to notice as he squatted to check the oil temperature.  The reading was right where it should be, and he glanced up at Caleb’s stony face before rising with only a faint crackle of one knee.  “Relax, buddy.  This probably means more to me than it does you, and I doubt it’s going to come as a surprise.”

“Okay.”  The assurance carried little, if any, weight.  Caleb’s features remained fiercely guarded, and he looked prepared to do battle with his wide stance even though both hands were pushed into the back pockets of his jeans.  “What is it?”

Levelly meeting the boy’s eyes, he revealed, “Someday, I'm going to want to marry your mother.”

The blank stare he got in return had Jon wondering if he should’ve prefaced that declaration with… something.  Maybe the thought process leading up to it?  As he’d said, it probably wasn’t much of a surprise, but still…  This kid hadn’t reached his former level of emotional stability yet. 

“Why are you telling me?”

“Because things are screwed up in your head right now,” Jon admitted frankly to the young man who stared sullenly out at the river.  “You’ve been force-fed a lot of shit that’s out of your control lately, and I don’t want this to be another one.”

“But that’s exactly what you’re doing.  ‘Here it is.  Deal with it’.”

“Not at all.”  Shaking his head emphatically, he corrected, “I’m telling you what I want, and if you hate the idea…  Well, I’m not going to change my mind, but I’ll sit on it until you don't hate it.  Give you a chance to acclimate, because your mother has already gotten enough of your anger.”

That prompted Caleb to pull hands from his pockets and bend to pick up a stick, snapping it in half as he cut a glare in Jon’s direction.  “Doesn’t matter if it hate it or not.  Mom said she was never getting married again.”

“She says it a lot,” Jon agreed easily.  “But I think having all of us together this week – you and your brother, me and my kids – was a step in the right direction.  Seeing what we could be like as a family has to ease her reservations.”

In truth, Jon was the one that saw what they could be like as a family, and it only fueled the desire to make it official.  The counselor’s son didn’t need to know about her fear of being controlled and manipulated. 

Ever since the night he’d stupidly tried to strong-arm her into selling her house, Jon had purposely stepped back and taken Chiara’s advice by appreciating what they had instead of what they didn’t.   That focus allowed him to enjoy the days and nights, but his subconscious wouldn’t let go of the fact that there was something else being denied him, no matter how insignificant it might seem to some people.

Marriage was theoretically nothing but a piece of paper, a promise to love one another and jewelry as a tangible reminder of fidelity.  He got that they were only missing the paper, but that paper was more important than the rest, because it was ultimate representation of the counselor’s trust in him – and her unreserved trust was what he craved. 

The knowledge that she would give him everything.

In a karmic twist of events, Sunday night brought the brilliant realization that getting everything was going to require giving everything.  The epiphany was so vivid and profound that it almost took Jon’s breath away – and that’s how he knew it was right. 

It would be great if he could avoid alienating her kids any more in the process, though.

“Didn’t you have a song about living in sin?  Why does marriage matter so much to you?”

Caleb should really consider trading his computer science major in for a legal degree.  Whereas his brother was laid back and accepting, this child was the counselor through and through. 

“I wrote that when I was a kid.”  The wind was picking up and a blast of air blew across his neck, sending a chill through him.  “I grew up and found out I’m old-fashioned in some ways, which includes valuing your mother enough to get ticked every time someone refers to her as the ‘first girlfriend after my divorce’ or ‘current love interest’.”

“But you do love her.”

Openly meeting the boy’s scrutiny, Jon turned the tables. “What do you think?”

“Yeah.  I guess.”  Dark eyes shifted to the river and back.  “When are you going to do it?”

When Caleb was on board with the idea, because Jon wouldn’t allow their engagement to be another clusterfucked dramatic episode in the family.  If and when Chiara agreed to marry, there would be nothing but happiness. 

“Not sure.  I was waiting to talk to you first.”

“Mm.  What did Noah say?” 

Jesus Christ, this poor kid was hanging tight to his defensive façade.  He refused to reveal even a hint of emotion, simply throwing out question after question and Jon was discovering just how much patience he could exercise when the situation really mattered.

“I haven’t told him.  I will, but I don’t expect him or my kids to object.”

“But you thought I would.”

“Not necessarily,” Jon contradicted quietly.  “I just know you’ve got more on your mind than they do.  Stuff that might skew your perception.  You don’t need another reason to be mad at your mom, so I was trying to avoid giving you one.”

Scuffing the sole of his shoe against the concrete, Caleb crammed both hands in the hoodie’s pocket and cast his eyes downward.  “I’m not mad anymore.”

Thank God.  She had been coping without breaking a sweat, except behind closed doors where she laid in Jon’s arms and wondered how long it would go on.  Maybe that psychologist each of the boys went to this week had done some good.  Neither one wanted to talk about it at the end of the appointments that were forced upon them, which made their mother worry that she was screwing something else up.

Really, it didn’t make a damn what prompted it, only that the boy followed through with the promise made the other night.  They were washing dinner dishes when Jon jokingly offered to buy Caleb a pony if he’d stop breaking his mother’s heart.  Smirking at the plate he was rinsing, he vowed to try.

“Wait.  Does this mean I actually owe you a pony?”

It was offered to his shoelaces instead of a plate, but the same smirk appeared now.  “Not unless it’s a Ford Mustang.”

“When I get your blessing on this marriage thing, I’ll let you take my Viper out for a spin,” was the laughing compromise.  “Anything beyond that has to go through your mom.”

“In that case, I’m screwed.”

“Maybe, maybe not,” Jon said with a shrug, thinking that Christmas was coming up and that the boys were sitting on a good-sized trust fund.  It wouldn’t hurt to suggest that cars would be a good investment.  “Tell me you’ll think about it and let’s get out of this fucking cold.”

“I don’t need to think about it.”  The quiet words were almost lost in the gurgle of peanut oil as the ruddy cheeked kid finally lifted his eyes from the ground.  “My mom’s happier than she’s been in my whole life, and you’re not an asshole.  It won’t suck having you for a stepdad.”

Not exactly a rousing endorsement of character but knowing that Chiara’s son could see her happiness overshadowed the slight of Jon’s second backhanded compliment today.  There was nothing like family to keep a guy humble.

“It’s not exactly a Grammy, but I’ll take it.  Want to go running with me in the morning?”

Caleb didn’t get a chance to answer before the kitchen door swung inward to reveal a distressed counselor, and the breeze kicked up her hair to add to the effect.  “There you are!  I’ve been looking everywhere!”

“Sorry.  We were just checking on the turkey.  What’s wrong?”

“Millie didn’t come,” she told him with troubled eyes.  “Vince said he couldn’t find her.”

Fuck.  Jon was afraid of this.