78:Pictures

Jon lounged in the doorway between Chiara’s kitchen and living room with a glass of wine dangling from his fingertips as he admired what had been accomplished over the weekend.  While he had been spending time with his boys, she had obviously been furnishing and decorating the front room of the brownstone.

Whereas it was previously empty except for a sofa, it now had an armchair, tables, a huge wall mirror, knickknacks and photographs.  Quite a lot of photographs, in fact.  Almost as many as he had in his formal living room, giving him the impression that she was as into visual memories as he was.

A couple of casual family snapshots were on the tables, but most of her pictures were arranged in groupings on the walls.  The biggest wall held nothing but pictures of her boys from birth through present day.  The small segment between that and the front windows had very old photographs of people he assumed were ancestors and looked to date back to the turn of the twentieth century.  On the other side of the windows was her parents’ wedding photo and what looked to be an anniversary photo. 

It was the next section, though, that held his attention.  Almost as large as the space devoted to her sons, the wall between the foyer doorway and the window was covered with photos of the counselor and her brothers. 

Chronologically, the pictures began when Chiara was just a baby surrounded by her three older brothers.  When she was a toddler, her baby brother was added to the mix.  From that point forward, it was always the five of them, usually with her in the middle and the guys surrounding her.  As children, teens and adults, they were all together and smiling for the camera.

Maybe he was sensitive to it because of the information he’d gotten tonight, but he noticed that there weren’t any photos that didn’t have Joey in them.  Was that on purpose?  Was it her way of keeping him alive in some fashion? 

Mulling that over as he drank his wine, Jon side-stepped over to the last section of wall.  The strip of drywall was between the foyer and kitchen was one of the smaller pieces in the room, but it was big enough to hold four photos in five-by-seven frames.  Stacked on top of one another, each was of Chiara with a different brother. 

In the uppermost image, she was at Dom’s side in front of Juliana’s.  The next one was with Vince in his dress blues at some kind of ceremony.    Under that, she and Luke had their arms around each other’s waists in someone’s back yard.  The bottom one was of Joey, and she beamed up at him with pride in his formal firefighter uniform. 

Jon was glancing repetitively back and forth between that last picture and the others to try and pinpoint a family resemblance when the front door opened.  The counselor entered, closing it quietly behind her and coming to stand in the living room doorway and study him with guarded eyes. 

Her gaze was met with a purposely casual smile and greeting.  “Hey.  I helped myself to wine.  Want some?”

“Not right now.”

He loved that she’d worn her hair down tonight, and its movement across her shoulders as she folded her arms caught his attention.  He knew without touching them that the strands would be silky and decadent sifting through his fingers. 

“I like all the pictures.”

“Thanks.  Makes it feel like home.”

Tilting the wine glass to his lips, Jon watched her watching him.  The wheels in her mind were spinning, but there weren’t any resulting words.  That was unlike her and he didn’t much care for it.

“How ‘bout you just say whatever you’re thinking and be done with it?”

She tipped her head to one side with a bemused smirk.  “Mostly because I can’t decide where to start.  Am I supposed to be flippant and say that you were supposed to write me a song, not sing it?  Or do I pretend I don’t know what you found out tonight and say I wasn’t expecting to see you again for another month?  Or…  Do I wait and see where you want to go?”

“Hell, baby, I wanna go to bed.  That should be a no-brainer by now.”

Despite the teasing words, her smirk didn’t budge any more than the rest of her.  The lady lawyer was in residence and she was diligently studying her opponent.  Jon liked that even less than the silence. 

“Fine,” he sighed, pivoting on one heel and lifting his voice so that it trailed behind him.  “I’m not fucking going halfway around the world when we’re in the middle of a disagreement and, unless it’s completely unavoidable, I never will.  It gets fixed before I go, so that addresses part of your question.”

The cork squeaked and gave a muted pop as he removed it from the open wine bottle to pour another glass, and a movement at the corner of his eye told him that she’d followed. 

“I’m sorry about your brother,” he said with genuine compassion after lifting his glass and turning to lean on the island in a position that would allow him to look at her.  “I’m even sorrier that you blame yourself for the actions of some sick fuckers bent on destruction.  Logically, you know that’s fucked up.  You’re too smart not to, but I understand that emotions aren’t always logical.”

“No.  They definitely aren’t logical,” came her quiet agreement as she came up beside him and filled the glass he’d set out for her. 

“That’s why I’m going to back off for a while.”  Touching the fingers of his right hand to her left cheek, he trailed his touch softly down to cup her jaw.  “As long as you prove to me you’re trying to deal with this shit instead of avoiding it.  Talk to your friend the psychiatrist, talk to a stranger… I don’t give a fuck.  I just need to know you’re moving forward instead of stuck in your own head.”

She laughed without humor and turned her cheek into his touch.  “Even though I hear you’re the one making arrangements so that I can avoid it on Friday.”

“Totally selfish prick-ness on my part.  I can’t be here and, for some weird ass reason, Lilah’s the one I trust with this.  She’s going to call you with plans in the next couple days, by the way.”

That weird ass reason was because Lilah would inundate him with details about how the day went without Jon having to ask.  She was also more observant than the average person, meaning that she would notice what Chiara wasn’t saying.  If things started to go south, she would see it coming and deal with it accordingly. 

Jon had often enough suffered the disadvantages of having a busybody in the family.  Now was the time to benefit from the advantages, even if he ended up spending a fortune in spa treatments.  The peace of mind would be worth it.

“Izzie wants to meet her, so I think she’ll join us.”

“Good.” 

Both a psychiatrist and a country psychic in residence for the day?  Hell, yes.  Money be damned.  He couldn’t have hand-written a better scenario. 

Bending his elbow sharply and tucking it into his body so that he could set his glass on the island, he extended that same hand to the counselor.  She took it without hesitation, and Jon guided her to stand between his legs before putting her glass beside his.  Settling his arms loosely around her waist, he searched her soft and soulful eyes.

“Were you close to your brother?”

White-hot pain streaked across chocolate irises before she was able to stifle it, and the counselor nodded.  “We were the last two at home.  He married my friend, who became my best friend.”

“Izzie?”

He hadn’t realized that until tonight, when listening to the Del Vecchio men talk. 

She nodded.  “I love them all, but Joey and I spent the most time together.  Luke was married to a bitch at the time and the others were cops who didn’t know how to mentally disengage from the job.  Joey would’ve done anything for me – and did.”

Stroking a hand over her face, he remarked softly, “That’s what brothers do, baby.  Trust me, I know.”

“I guess you’re right,” she agreed with a wistful smile.  “I can’t imagine a Bongiovi sister.  God help her.”

“Sure you can.  She’d be in the same position you are - unreasonably protected and loved.”

Her smile was wiped away by a momentary shock before she picked up a more neutrally pleasant facial expression.  “What would she do in your organization?  If you had a sister?”

“What was that look for?” He substituted his own question in place of an answer to hers, curious as to what he’d said that was so unexpected.  “You can’t possibly disagree with that.”

“I don’t.”

Jon finally pushed his fingers through the silken curtain of hair for the feel that he’d imagined since first seeing her tonight.  “Then what?”

One feminine shoulder shifted in a negligent shrug.  “You said ‘love’.  It weirded me out for a minute.”

“Ah.”  Delving his fingers back in for another pass through her hair, he murmured, “Understandable, I guess.”

“I guess.”

He shouldn’t be rolling that word over in his mind.  At his age, he knew what love was.  There was no reason to debate the definition of the most overused word in the English language and how it might apply to the woman standing between his legs. 

No reason at all.

“PR.”

Blinking with confusion, she cocked her head at an angle away from his touch. “I’m sorry?”

“Public relations,” he clarified the response to her earlier question.  “That’s what my sister would do if she deigned to work for me.  Women are much better at that shit than men.  They see the big picture, while men tend to have tunnel vision.  I know I do.”

With a nod, she brought both open palms to rest on his chest, seeming content to stand here like this with him and talk.  “I don’t disagree.”

“It’s the reason I’ve made it this far.  I get an idea in my head and refuse to let go until it becomes reality.  That’s why I’m going to be kicking your ass every day until you’re free from your demons.”

“Why?  Because you’re a stubborn son of a bitch?” she asked, looking up into his face with a little smile.

No.  Because his most recent idea was being with her and not giving a fuck who knew it.  He wanted to hold her hand on whatever New York street they were standing on, without worrying that it would cause her life to crumble.  He wouldn’t even mind the photographers at next red carpet thing so much if it meant there were pictures of them together afterward – and maybe one of those pictures made it to her living room.

All that was deeper than he was looking to go right now though, even with himself.

Jon settled for a murmured, “Something like that.”

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure.”

Tipping her chin up to meet his eyes, she inquired, “You’re leaving the country tomorrow, right?”

“Yeah.”

“For a month.”

Where the hell was this going?  She knew this already.

“Yeahh…?”

The palms resting on his chest glided upward until her fingers were tangled in the back of his hair.  “Then why are we standing in the kitchen fully clothed?  Shouldn’t I be reminding you why you’re Team Monogamy?”

The cloud of seriousness that had been hanging over them since she arrived dissipated in a sudden burst of light.  This was why he liked her.  She had the ability to prioritize in a way that he couldn’t help but admire. 

Grinning down into her face, he leaned in to approve against her lips, “I think that’s a phenomenal stroke of brilliance.  Why don’t we see go upstairs and see what other phenomenal strokes you have up your sleeve?”