64:Wheels on the Bus

August 30

Charlie was grateful that Jon had arranged to have a car waiting for her at Monmouth Jet Center.  With her ensconced in the back seat it was now executing a turn to leave the airport grounds on its way to Matt’s house, and Charlie moved with the subtle momentum to lean further than the car’s motion required.  Resting her head against the side of the Lincoln’s interior, she closed her eyes and tried to let the hum of tires against pavement relax her as they hit the Garden State Parkway.

Having only exchanged a couple of brief text messages with Jon since their call on Friday, she was looking forward to seeing him, but it would be nicer to see him at her house with Nana rather than at another family gathering.   The long weekend had proven exhausting and the thought of socializing wasn’t doing much for her at the moment.  

She felt exceptionally blessed that her son didn’t act as though he was any worse for the wear after his surgery and hospital stay.  He spent one night with her at the hotel and then emphatically declared himself over it, insistent that he be allowed to go back to the dorm.  Since she was close by to rescue him if the decision turned out to be a bad one, she let her adult son exercise his own judgment and it had worked out fine.  His biggest complaint as of this morning was the two week restriction on his running regime.

If that was all he had to complain about, Charlie was counting it as a win.

Too bad Owen hadn’t been as interested in going back to his regularly scheduled life as Caleb was.  He was always there, hovering and acting overly kind in the presence of their sons.  It was only when they were alone that he was an ass.  She had limited those encounters as much as possible and, when she couldn't, put on her big girl panties and played as nice as she knew how.  She was even polite in encouraging him to go back to Canada since Caleb was doing well, but Owen was determined to stay in Stanford as long as she did. 

God forbid there was a moment when she looked like the better parent – especially when it came to Caleb.  That wouldn’t do at all in Owen’s spiteful little mind and it made Charlie crazy because she was the better parent.  She put up with his shit year after year and went to work every damn day to provide for her boys.  What did he do?  He played it off as though that was exactly the way it should be. 

The only thing that kept the son of a bitch alive this long was his competency at being a stay at home father.  Their kids had been able to depend on him for sports, school field trips and all those other things that non-working parents got to participate in, and they loved their dad for it.  Otherwise, she would’ve killed Owen long ago.

It’s over.  Let it go and focus on the man you’re going to see.  The man you’re dating.

Charlie’s jaw had almost hit the floor when Jon asked her to attend this party with him.  The first thought through her mind was that his family would make assumptions and, when she found out he didn’t care about those assumptions since they were true…?  She hadn’t been kidding about having to catch her breath. 

Once the man made his mind up, he didn’t offer any apologies.  They were seeing each other and that was that.  Everybody could figure out their own coping mechanism for coming to terms with it because he didn’t care whether they actually did or not.

That was all well and good with his family, who most all believed that Charlie was a single woman.   He’d agreed to play at Vivi’s party next weekend, though, and that situation was going to be an entirely different can of worms.  Charlie’s family was very familiar with her marital status, and that meant there would be no introducing Jon as the man she was dating.  He would be presented as nothing more than a casual acquaintance, and she wondered if he’d made that connection yet. 

She wasn’t going to worry about it.  Not tonight. 

Tonight, she was going to hope the Bongiovis had copious amounts of adult beverages on hand, get slightly drunk and let Jon deal with getting her home afterward.  After all, he was the one who insisted on flying her into a different airport than the one where she parked her car, since Monmouth was an hour closer to Matt’s house.  She had no argument with the infallible logic.  She was just going to happily take advantage of the situation. 

Charlie’s eyes popped open when she felt the car begin to slow, and she found that they were exiting the Parkway.  “Excuse me,” she caught the driver’s attention.  “How close are we?”

“About five minutes, ma’am.”

“Thank you.”  Sliding the phone out of her purse, she fired off a quick text to provide Jon with that ETA.  He'd asked her to do so in his own text message before takeoff this morning.

At the promised five minute mark, the vehicle slowed in front of Matt and Desiree’s house, where Jon was standing on the front porch with both hands and the tails of his navy blue dress shirt stuffed into his jean pockets.   The driver took a right turn into the long driveway and, while he guided the vehicle in behind the others that were parked there, Charlie couldn’t keep from smiling at the sight of Jon meandering down the front walk toward the car.

The tires had scarcely come to a halt when he opened the door and held out a hand for the overnight bag she had just scooped up from the seat beside her.  As he shrugged it onto one shoulder, she thanked the driver and stepped out to stand before Jon on the sidewalk.

“Hey,” he greeted her after the car door closed, and then bent to brush her lips with a gentle kiss.  “How ya doin’?”

About eight thousand percent better now.

“I’m okay,” she murmured contentedly. 

This used to be the guy who irritated the hell out of her.  Now he was the guy who made the tension seep from her shoulders?  How?

It was one of those unsolvable mysteries of the universe that she would probably marvel about for the rest of her life.

“You look good.”

“Yeah?” Charlie stopped by Target on the way to the airport to pick up a few things, including another of the summer dresses he complained about in the Hamptons.  She was tired of the same jeans and sneakers, and since a party was on the evening’s agenda, the black calf-length dress with spaghetti straps seemed appropriate.  “Thanks.  I’ve seen you wear black so often that I think it rubbed off on me.”

It was with a chuckle that he reached for her hand and notched their fingers together, and when her palm settled against his, Charlie savored the familiar electricity.  She'd missed him.

“Black never goes out of style,” he assured, guiding her around the cars in the driveway as they headed toward what she presumed was the back yard. 

Okay, so call her a silly girl, but her toes were tingling in the new sandals that matched the dress.  They weren’t fighting.  They weren’t fucking.  They were holding hands and chatting after a greeting kiss that felt as natural as anything she’d ever experienced – and he was carrying her bag. 

Holy shit, he wasn’t kidding.  We’re together.  For real. 

Not that she’d had any reason to doubt his proclamation, but knowing it in her head and experiencing the reality of it were two different planes of understanding.  Charlie liked this hand holding plane – a lot. 

“Is your family off your back now that they know?” she teased as they approached the white vinyl gate that was as tall as the six-foot fence that it completed.

Glancing at her out of the corner of his eye, he smirked. “They don’t know anything yet.” 

They didn’t know?  What the hell did that mean?

Charlie dug her heels into the driveway, arm extending straight out as he continued to walk with possession of her hand.  Tugging sharply, she silently demanded that he turn to face her.  “They don’t know about us?  Or that I’m coming?”

“Neither.”  He stood there as cool as a cucumber while blue eyes twinkled with amusement, obviously finding this funny.  She, however, was freaking out just a little bit trying to imagine what kind of scene awaited on the other side of the fence.

“You just planned to walk in there… with me…”  She held up their clasped hands for his inspection, as if he had no idea they were latched together.  “Like this.”

“Yep.”

“What the hell?” her laugh was incredulous, even to her own ears.  “I thought you didn’t hate me anymore.  Why would you do that?”

He took the step that would bring him close enough to allow their arms to drop naturally between them.  Bending his head, he touched their lips together in a soft exploratory kiss that lingered significantly long than his earlier greeting. 

When the tension eased from her shoulders, as he'd probably known it would, Jon explained, “A picture’s worth a thousand words.  I'd say the one of us holding hands is gonna let me save my breath on at least three thousand of 'em.”

“Jesus," she huffed.  Charlie wasn't all that annoyed, but she also wasn't appreciative of how he’d chosen to handle the situation.  Her eyes rolled to the evening sky, where the sun was just starting its downward descent into the horizon as she accused, “You’re throwing me under the bus.”

“No, I’m taking you with me.  Big difference.”

“So we're both roadkill.  Charming," was her half-hearted grumble.  "Whatever the hell happened to chivalry?”

“You aren’t some helpless fucking fair maiden, Counselor.  You’re my partner,” he explained patiently, even as he cocked his head and eyebrow simultaneously.  “That’s the way a relationship with me works. We stand together or, as necessary, we take turns leaning on each other.  A cookout with my family is not a leaning situation, so take it or leave it.”

Partners.

He expected them to be partners.

After spending most of her life as the one taking full accountability and responsibility for everything, Charlie thought that sounded… nice.  Exceptionally nice. 

“I'll take it.”  She raised onto her toes for another kiss.  “I would ask how this part of our relationship keeps getting better, too, but it didn’t have anywhere to go but up.”

“No fucking kidding.”  The muttered agreement was accompanied by a wink and the tilt of his head toward the enclosed back yard.  “Ready?”

“Is there wine in there?”

“Have you fucking met my family?”

“I have,” she confirmed with a grin, squeezing the hand that still held tight to hers.  “And I love their affection for alcohol.  Let’s go find some.”

Eagerly anticipating how good a nice glass of red wine was going to taste, she turned toward the gate and started walking.  This time, it was he who ground to a stop and halted her momentum in the process

“Hey.” One sharp tug had her reeled within inches of him again, where she peered into eyes that brimmed with sincerity.  “I’m glad your kid’s okay.  I mean that.”

Well, hell.  This Jon was going to take some getting used to and, until she did, she’d better start carrying Rubbermaid containers to hold the gooey mess he was making of her heart.

“Me, too.  Thanks.”  Pushing the gooey mess aside so that it didn't get all over him, she deliberately kicked one side of her mouth into a lopsided grin.“Now can we drink?”

“Now we can drink,” he ceded with a smile while flicking the gate latch.  “As soon as you get through the receiving line.  I did mention my parents are here, right?”

There had better be more than one bottle of wine waiting inside.