*107:Boring

“Have I mentioned how much I love this house?” the counselor asked as she bounced onto the bed with a plastic bottle of woman goop and wearing one of Jon’s t-shirts.

Putting his book aside, Jon rolled onto his hip with a lazy smile and propped an elbow into the mattress, cradling his head with that hand.  The hours spent at her parents’ house hadn’t been easy, with all the rehashing of history and playing the “shoulda, woulda, coulda” game with so many strong personalities that were all determined to be heard. 

At the end, though, they’d finally come up with a solution that could be executed on the original timetable – two weeks from today, at the anniversary party, which satisfied him and all the opinionated Del Vecchios. 

It didn’t get much better than that and, by the time they left her parents’ house, Chiara was more buoyant than he’d seen her in… ever?  “Confessing her sins” had been clearly been good for the soul, and seeing her soul so untroubled was good for his.

“You said you liked the house, but I don’t recall ever hearing ‘love’.”

“Well, I do,” she pronounced simply, squirting subtly-scented lotion into her palm and then smoothing it over one leg.  “It’s so homey.  You and Dorothea did a fabulous job with it.  Too bad it’s so far from the city and you can’t enjoy it all the time.”

Watching her repeat the squirting, smoothing action again, Jon admitted to himself that this version of the counselor was so enamoring that he’d consider moving here full-time if it meant Carefree Chiara would stick around.  It was probably for the best that he didn’t get to express that musing before the conversation flowed light-heartedly along.

“Can I ask you something?” she posed thoughtfully, massaging the residual lotion into palms, fingers and forearms.

“Of course.”

“Do you honestly – and objectively – believe I could earn a living with my art?”

“Yes.”  His affirmation came without delay and he laid an open palm out, silently beseeching her hand.  When she laid it atop his, Jon closed his fingers and went on to staunchly pledge, “You really do have a gift, and it’s not just me that thinks so.  Everyone I’ve shown my mural pictures to has been liberal with their praise.  I’ve actually refused to give out your contact information so far, since you were still deciding, but I’ve been asked for it more than once.”

Rich irises sought his as her mouth pulled into a thoughtful line for a long moment before she dropped her chin in a decisive nod.  “Do it.  I’m going to give my notice at work.”

“This have anything to do with what your dad said?”

What he referred to had stemmed from a worst-case scenarios discussion about divorce settlements she’d been having with some of her family members while Jon talked to Vince and Dom about exactly how they’d like to see Owen pay for his crimes.  Chiara feistily remarked that, if the judge awarded Owen palimony, she could at least make it painful for him by giving up her lucrative career to become a starving artist.

Her dad had forcefully ordered her to do it.  From what he overheard, Edward conceded that the counselor had done the “right” thing for long enough.  That, if there was ever going to be a time to pursue what made her heart happy, it was now – and he’d be proud to see her do it. 

Her unabashed grin of pleasure had sealed it for Jon.  He was going to get along well with the counselor’s father.

“Well, his endorsement wasn’t the only reason.”  The words may have been huffy and even a little pious, but her eyes twinkled like chocolate diamonds, confirming to Jon that it played a significant part in her decision.

“But it sure as hell didn’t hurt.  I’ll make the calls tomorrow.  Hey.  I just realized tomorrow’s Monday.  Are we going to see Millie?”

“No.” Her hand slid free of his to pick up the lotion and transfer it from her lap to the bedside table.   Swiveling back around and rising to her knees, the counselor nudged Jon’s shoulder until she could straddle his supine form.  “I told her Vince would be delivering her coffee and bagels because my Prince Charming was whisking me away to a castle.”

“And you ended up at the beach instead.”

“In your castle, which I prefer simply because of the royalty in residence.”  Her irises were warm pools of cocoa tonight, and they brimmed with emotion as soft as her words, “Thank you for… everything.  I told Izzie that you’ve given me the world and, since there’s no way for me to repay that, all I can do is love you.”

“You can’t keep score when we’re on the same team, Counselor, so stop trying.”

Jon shoved splayed hands into the silken strands of hair that sought to conceal her freshly scrubbed face.  Scraping them back exposed features that he’d always been attracted to, but without unrest and anger shadowing them, her beauty radiated from within. When she was living a life free of Owen’s threats along with Owen himself, and was practicing art instead of law…  Damn if his counselor couldn’t end up as happy as those Disney characters she liked so much. 

“I’m just trying to make sure you aren’t getting screwed in an undesirable way is all.  You’ve had enough of that from me.  Now, can I ask you another question?”

He appreciated her desire to make amends for the overzealous divorce settlement she engineered for Dorothea, but the counselor was on the verge of beating a dead horse with it.  That’s why he completely disregarded it.

“You can ask me questions without prior permission,” he chuckled, gradually releasing her hair so that it cascaded in a loose waterfall of dark silk. 

“Duly noted.”  Her lopsided smirk accompanied the migration of delicate palms from the waistband of Jon’s shorts to the center of his chest.  “I notice you have four-poster beds here and in New Jersey.  You ever find yourself tied to them?”

Pushing his own splayed palms up to slip under the shirt’s hem and cradle her hips, he arched a dubious brow.  “Nooo… and I never will.  In case you missed it, I’m not exactly the submissive type.”

“You don’t trust me?”

“Got nothing to do with trust,” Jon countered with a two-handed squeeze of her buttocks.  “Got to do with my dislike of feeling helpless, and I’ve felt plenty helpless enough with you lately.  You’re not tying me up.”

“Mm.” 

“Don’t ‘mm’ me, Counselor.”  He captured the mischievous fingers that were frolicking along the ridge of his clavicle and nipped punishingly at the ends.  “It ain’t happenin’.”

“Okay,” was her ready acquiescence this time, and tendrils of hair went tickling over Jon’s chest so that her lips could dust a feathery caress over his jaw.  “We’ll save it for when you get bored with the usual stuff.”

“Bored?  What the fuck?”  A finger hooked around her chin enabled him to peer into eyes that revealed none of the feminine insecurity he’d half-expected.  She met his gaze with open confidence.

“The ‘new’ will wear off after a while, Jon.  That’s just the nature of physical relationships.  You learn my hot spots.  I learn yours.  Pretty soon it’s not quite as exciting as it once was.”

Jon wasn’t sure whether he should be insulted or relieved that her expectations were so low.  It was a toss-up for a minute, but being an Italian man without physical self-esteem issues, he eventually committed to insult. 

Jackknifing into a sitting position rocked the counselor backward, and his knees bent so that she came to lean against hard thighs.   

“You and I aren’t bashful, so let’s just lay this out on the table,” he suggested, with his nose mere centimeters from hers.  “I didn’t tell you this before, but Dorothea was concerned that I didn’t know what I was getting into with you.”

“And?”

Ignoring her smartass amusement, Jon forged doggedly ahead.  “And she was having a hard time believing the sex was that good.  My response?  It’s that good every damn time.  So don’t be taking our phenomenal sex life and making it plebian and mundane.”

“Phenomenal, huh?”  Lamplight bounced off her attempt at a cocky smile, making in ten times brighter than normal as she rifled the back of his hair. 

“Phe-fucking-nomenal.”

“Then why are we still wearing clothes?”

Not only was she beautiful and educated, she had a healthy supply of common sense, too.  “Brilliant rebuttal, Counselor.”

While her smile was merely an attempt at cocky, he was a seasoned professional and it hit full-force as he stripped the t-shirt from her in a single swoop.  The dark cloud of hair settling wildly over her shoulders was the only thing that now covered her, save for a skimpy pair of panties that he could snap with one hand. 

Like a cat with a ball of yarn, Jon was drawn to the gingerly bouncing breasts that were staring him, literally, in the face.  The counselor had a lot of fine assets that he enjoyed on a regular basis, but he really didn’t spend enough time with these assets.  He should do something about that.

The outsides of his palms scraped tender flesh as he drifted over her ribcage to balance one of the decidedly feminine orbs in each hand.  Soft and pliable, they weren’t perfectly sculpted by a Los Angeles surgeon.  They were so much better with a perfectly asymmetrical shape that gave way under his touch as he worked the nipples.

“That feels good.”

Her breath of appreciation brought Jon’s gaze to the doe eyes that were assessing his performance while color crept high in her cheeks.  A hand continued to alternately tug and twist at one raspberry peak, while the other found its way between lips that suckled with the same need as a newborn babe. 

Aimless hands tunneled through Jon’s hair, and blunt fingernails grazed his scalp as a full breath was released in a prolonged exhalation.  Smiling and pushing his nose into the yielding flesh, he sucked in the rosy brown aureole along with the nipple to slowly release it through scraping teeth.

“Ahhhhh….”

The sultry sigh coupled with the tug of fingers knotting in his hair prompted Jon to do it again, and the sigh switched over to a groan.

Smiling against her flesh, he released the nipple with a wet pop to sweep his tongue around it, and then travel the length of her sternum to that little hollow at the base of her throat.  He lapped the flavor of her skin from it before reversing his travels to claim the other nipple. 

“Jesus…”  His eyes flicked up to find Chiara spellbound by the mouth drawing on her breast, and he curled a heated tongue sharply around the nipple.  “I could watch you do that all night.”

Jon spanned her ribs with splayed hands, nudging his thumbs into the indentation were breast met torso to scoot outward.  Releasing the sweet pebble of her nipple he lifted his face the sensitive flesh beneath her jaw and nipped lightly. 

“I could watch you all night,” he countered heatedly in her ear, while he intuitively roamed her torso – ribs, shoulders, waist, spine.  Nothing was spared his touch, because she had nothing that wasn’t his.  “So fuckin’ sexy seein’ you get turned on.” 

Not happy about his shift of focus, she crushed her chest against his, but Jon chose to disregard the aggressive hint.  Instead, his right hand settled low on her back stability as hips lifted to nudge a burgeoning erection into the heated seam of her panties, while his left shoved into the underside of her hair to steer passion-riddled eyes to his.

“The way your eyes go black with desire makes me hard.”

A gentle buck of that hardness had the counselor rising on her knees and tearing his shorts down to liberate it before shimmying out of the scrap of silk that was their only remaining barrier.  Placing an insistent hand on Jon’s shoulder and pushing forced him to recline against the pillows as a panting Chiara mounted him, and he hissed with pleasure at being immersed into her hot, silken sheath. 

His hands found hers and fingers were notched together so that they were palm to palm as he levered hips up.  There wouldn’t be any space between them if he could help it, and knew she felt the same when her heels dug into the mattress so that the counselor could bounce to bring her full weight down on him with a gasp.

“Those parted lips are the embodiment of my very best fantasies,” he growled, disengaging hands that were too greedy to be confined to only one small part of her.  One settled over a hip to provide more stability as he pounded up into her, and when Chiara ground her clit against him, she lifted her to the ceiling with a primal, almost inhuman noise.

“When your head topples back with a scream, my balls go tight because I know it’s getting closer.” 

Balancing herself with both palms against his pectorals, she lifted and fell on him repetitively, as fast as impeccably toned leg muscles permitted.   Jon met every stroke with his own push, eyes greedily devouring the stark intimacy that was created every time her body opened to accept his. 

“Jon…  I’m close…” 

The direction of his gaze changed in a heartbeat, and Jon draped both palms over her hips with sharp fingertips stilling her so that he could take the reins.

“The hot flush of your skin when you’re about to come turns me into a goddamn rutting animal.”

Frantic… fervent… rutting that couldn’t get him close enough.  Deep enough.  Hard enough.  Yet he tried again and again and again while the mattress quivered with the effort. 

Until that moment she held her breath.

“That...” he bit, without slowing.  Afraid to slow lest it staved off the tidal wave about to crest.  “The absolute… stillness… just before you surrender to orgasm… turns my dick inside… fucking…. out.”

Her encounter with ecstasy rattled his ears as the shudders rattled her body, and Jon followed the trail of tremors from deep inside her to his own rapture.   When it hit him, a howl fit only for animals was ripped from his guts and a savage grip held her immobile, necessitating that Chiara accept the consequence of what she did to him. 

What she did to him every damn time.

“You turn me inside-fucking-out, Counselor,” he murmured, gathering her close for a soft kiss that sealed their union.  “And that’s never gonna get boring.”

106: I Have To

Charlie appreciated Jon’s effort to soothe her anxiety, but his light massage of her shoulders only made her edgier.  He was so confident that this was all going to go like a heartwarming movie of the week, when she knew that such was not the way with her family. 

They wouldn’t bundle her into hugs and offer platitudes of reassurance and support.  The Del Vecchios were going to scream, accuse and berate until they’d exorcised their frustration at being unable to have prevented the whole damn thing.

Then, and only then, would they gruffly pull her into their fold and clean the wounds that their manic feedback created.

It was going to be a bumpy ride. 

“What’s going on?” her mother asked when shepherded into the living room, wiping her hands with a dishtowel. 

“Come sit down, Juliana.  Charlie has something to tell us.”   As gruff as her father could be, he also possessed the patience of a saint when he thought his wife was going to be upset. 

“Oh.  My God.  You’re pregnant.”

Charlie helplessly threw both palms in the air and skewered her sister-in-law with a reproving look.  “Vivi, why in the world would you say that?  I’m forty-five years old!  Of course I’m not pregnant.”

The asinine remark and Jon’s soft snort behind her were jarring enough for Charlie to get her shit together.  They’d be mad and they’d be hurt, but in the end, Jon was right.  Everyone in this room loved her and would be on her side in the end. 

“Vivi, sit down and let her say what she has to say,” Izzie directed, herself choosing to lean in the doorway and meet Charlie’s eyes.  “I have a feeling this is something we’ve all wanted to hear for a very long time.”

Radiating insult, Dominick’s wife lifted her nose in the air and pushed aside a decorative basket to settle regally on the end of the coffee table. 

“Charls...”  There was no need to turn her head and seek the source of that voice.  Luke was the only one who called her that.  “Are you finally going to tell us the deal with Owen?”

Inclining her chin almost to her chest before lifting it again, she told him, “Yes.”

“It’s about time,” her mother huffed from the arm of the couch, visually scolding Charlie over Vivi’s head.  “Not that it’s going to matter since you’re divorcing him – thank you, Jon – but curiosity has been eating at me for years.”

“You and Daddy practically marched me down the aisle in that shotgun wedding.  Why is it so hard to believe that I stuck it out because that’s what my parents – and God, as you repeatedly brought up – expected me to do?”

Rising to his feet and restlessly relocating himself in the doorway near Izzie, Vince scoffed, “Don’t act like it’s Ma’s fault.  We’ve known you since the day you were born.  You’re headstrong and determined to exactly what you want, no matter what anybody else thinks.”

She would’ve bounced to her own feet if Jon’s hands hadn’t exerted additional force on her shoulders, keeping Charlie’s backside on the footstool.  Blowing an exasperated breath out her nose while appreciating his silent reminder that putting them on the defensive wasn’t going to make things go smoothly, she evenly informed her brother, “Except my family.”

“That’s bullshit,” came Dom's vehement declaration.  “We’ve been on you for years to kick that idiot’s ass to the curb.  You refused, so don’t lay this on us.”

Her mouth was open to blast back at him when Jon gave her a cautionary squeeze and clarified to the room at-large, “Chiara didn’t come here today to lay anything on anyone, only to offer an explanation.  In the interest of family harmony, I respectfully suggest letting her do it without interruption.”

She knew from his tone – and just because she knew, deep down inside – that he was doing everything in his power to get her through this and get her through it unscathed.  If she didn’t make that same effort for herself, then she didn’t deserve him. 

Charlie closed her eyes and focused on the sturdy warmth of his hands while her dad supported Jon’s stance.  Her brothers each grumbled in different ways that she’d had two decades in which to get the end and she should freaking well get on with it already. 

Inhaling and exhaling deeply, she opened her eyes and individually connected with each person, from left to right – Izzy and Vince both standing in the doorway, Vivi perched on the table, her mom, dad and Luke on the sofa, and Dom in the corner chair.  Each wore a different expression that varied from hope to concern to curiosity to impatience. 

It was time to put all of them – including her – out of their misery. 

“Things were stressful when I first married Owen,” Charlie said loudly enough to be heard over her quibbling siblings.  “I was young and unprepared for marriage or motherhood.  Noah was a colicky baby, you might remember, and kept me up most nights while I tried to study for the Bar and work two-bit waitressing jobs to pay for our crappy apartment.”

“Your mother and I offered to let you live here,” her father reminded testily. 

“Yes, you did, but all the boys had made it on their own without coming back home.  If I did – with a husband and baby…  Well, as you also told me, everything would get better once I passed the bar and got the job I’d been educated for.  I knew you were right, but unfortunately, my situation wasn’t an ideal one in which to take the Bar Exam.  It’s why I failed the first time.”

Memories of getting that awful letter in the mail had her stomach churning with nausea.  Everything was hanging in the balance, and she’d let herself and everyone else down.  Nothing would get better until she could manage to pass that exam. 

“We finally got Noah straightened out, but he still wasn’t sleeping through the night, which meant I wasn’t.  Things were tight, Owen still couldn’t seem to find a job that he deemed good enough, and I was feeling the pressure from both a professional and financial standpoint.  I was studying every waking minute… and then I found out I was pregnant again.”

“If I get through her divorce without killing that lazy sonofabitch, it’ll be a miracle,” Dom muttered to no one in particular.

“It’s about to get more challenging.”  Charlie was the only one who heard the softly sighed words of her boyfriend as his hands slid down to rest at her waist. 

“Owen spent a solid week convincing me that another child was a horrible idea.  At every opportunity, he reminded me that it was going to create more financial strain than we could withstand.  That bringing another child into that situation was cruel and unconscionable.  He… wanted me to have an abortion and I was so mentally drained and fraught that… I finally agreed.”

Her mother’s carpet was a nice neutral beige, and it was where Charlie opted to focus her attention rather than looking at the faces of her family members.  Jon scooted closer to hook one full arm around her midsection, giving her the strength she needed to push aside her mother’s gasp of dismay, her brother’s swearing and Vivi’s confused questions asking if that was Caleb.  Izzie was the only one who remained stoic while patiently waiting.

“Owen made all the arrangements, and I went through with it.”  Even to her own ears, Charlie’s proclamation was flat and clipped.  “But I was so upset and emotionally unsettled that I was afraid I would tank the Bar a second time, and I knew a guy who could get me a copy of the test.  So I got it.”

“Jesus, Mary and Joseph,” Vince exclaimed lustily.  “You had an abortion and cheated on the Bar?  Who the fuck are you, because you’re not my sister.”

“Back down and let her finish, before you make yourself look like an asshole.”  The menacing voice from behind her was accompanied by another arm around her waist, so that Charlie was folded protectively inside his embrace.

“It’s okay, Jon.”  She said it in a voice loud enough for everyone to hear, and agitatedly pushed to her feet.  Taking two steps had her midway between Jon and Dom’s chairs, and she put her back to the cold fireplace to stand her ground.  “I knew they’d be upset.”

“No, it’s not okay!  He has no idea what he’s talking about.  Everybody needs to keep it zipped until they’ve heard the whole story.”

“Not another word from anyone besides Charlie!”  Her father was visibly agitated, and her anxious mother was patting him with a calming hand.  All three boys wore an assortment of disgruntled expressions, but she knew they had enough respect to adhere to their father’s wishes.   A distressed Vivi and impassive Izzie would also honor those wishes, giving Charlie the opening to continue her story.

“I didn’t use the test copy.”  That was pointed directly at Vince.  “I passed that test on my own.  I didn’t find out until after that the abortion had only been partially successful.  Caleb had a twin, and after all the regret that followed the initial procedure, there was no amount of cajoling or threatening from Owen that would convince me to go through it a second time.”

No matter how emotionally detached she told herself she would be, there was still something about acknowledging Caleb’s twin that ripped at her heart.  It required a stabilizing breath before she could continue.

“Caleb was born, obviously, and things were… tolerable for a while, until I realized I just didn’t like Owen.  I started talking about separating when Caleb was two.  That’s when I found out he’d gotten me pregnant on purpose because he wanted an American wife to attain U.S. citizenship.  Since he’d been too uninspired to pursue the paperwork, I was informed that I would stick around until he did, because if I didn’t…  He said he’d tell you all about the test and the abortion so that I’d lose both my job and my family.  Worse than that, he would tell the boys that Caleb wouldn’t be alive if I’d had my way.  So I stayed… until there came a time when I no longer needed to support my children and they were maybe grown up enough to understand what I’d done.”

Without a word, Izzie crossed the room with open arms, taking Charlie into them for a long hug. 

“He’s also the one that kept fueling her guilt over Joey,” Jon supplied quietly.  “Telling her that that you all couldn’t be faulted for blaming her, since it was her fault he died.  Noah overheard that much once, but she won’t tell me what other things were said.”

“Because it doesn’t matter.”  Sniffling and easing from Izzie’s embrace.  “It’s done and over.  Rehashing every last detail doesn’t serve a purpose.”

“Oh, I think it goddamn well does.” 

Vince’s eyes were filled with a wrath…  Well, she’d seen enough Italian tempers in this house to not even notice if one of her brothers was angry.  This was different.  He was positively livid and, when she did a quick survey of the other men in the room, Charlie found them all to be similarly furious. 

“He’s been blackmailing you, Charlie.  That’s illegal, in case you didn’t know.”

“I’m aware, Dom, but since I don’t have any proof, it may as well have never happened.  And, as far as I’m now concerned, it didn’t.  The plan was to tell the boys, thereby eliminating Owen’s stranglehold on me, and then let the rest of you know at the same time I confronted him at that damn anniversary party.  Only things haven’t quite worked out that way.”

Vince directed an accusatory finger at Jon.  “You told us this shit would be over with after that party.” 

“And it will.”  Jon did an amazing job of remaining neutral in the face of her angry brother.  Evidently she was the only Del Vecchio with the power to make him scream obscenities.

“Where is he now?”  The deadly quiet question came from Luke, and was immediately echoed by her father.  Another flurry of inquiries followed from the women in her family, asking if the boys knew, how they’d taken it, what was she going to do now and would there still be a divorce.

It was overwhelming to be sieged by all of them at once, even if that siege wasn’t an angry one.  The questions were hailing like machine gun fire, with everyone trying to make themselves heard, and Charlie reflexively took a step backward. 

Her shoulder blades hit the fireplace mantle and Jon was steadying her almost before she realized she’d lost her balance.  “Okay if I take it from here, Counselor?”

Cutting appreciative eyes up at him, Charlie nodded.  The events that she’d felt obligated to personally relay were out of the way, and shouting over top of this raucous group was beyond her at the moment.

“If I could step in here for a minute.” Jon had no trouble raising his voice to be heard and every dark head turned his direction.  Astoundingly enough, they were all silent while he briefly recounted yesterday’s visit with the boys and Owen’s pre-emptive strike at her sanity.  “I’m personally looking for revenge.  That’s why I asked about your connections, Mr. Del Vecchio.”

Not knowing or particularly caring what he was talking about, Charlie tuned out conversation of admissible evidence, arrests and convictions to once again look over the faces of her family members.  She didn’t get very far in looking for changes in the way they looked at her, however, because the instant her eyes found Izzie’s, the tears began to pool and she was wrapped in another bone-crushing embrace. 

This time she did her own share of bone-crushing in return.

“Tell me you love him,” her friend commanded gently in her ear.  “Because if you don’t, you’re crazy.  Hell, I’m half in love with him and it wasn’t me he was protecting like the Hope Diamond.”

He had protected her as the stars fell from her sky one-by-painful-one.  He'd been doing it for weeks now and deserved so much more than her love, but that's the best she could do under the circumstances.

Charlie retreated just far enough for Izzie to see her smile when expressing, “I’d do anything in the world for him, and he’s done everything in the world for me.  There’s no way in hell I can ever repay it all, so I have to love him.”

105:Connections

“You’re lucky,” the counselor told him as her sneakers trudged the front steps of her parents’ house.  Similarly attired to him in a black jacket and jeans, her ponytail swished against the leather when she turned to speak over her shoulder.  “Since it was short notice, we aren’t dealing with the entire family.  It will just be my parents and brothers, Izzie and Vivi.  The loud ones.”

Smiling to himself, Jon truthfully didn’t give a damn how loud they were as long as they shared his outrage and indignation.  Chiara sure as hell didn’t seem to anymore.  Ever since talking to the boys, she’d become strangely subdued about the whole thing.  The same woman who was once pissed enough at Owen to use Jon as his voodoo doll stand-in now seemed to not care.

That could be due in part to her kids coming back home, but…  Right was right and wrong was wrong.  Owen was motherfucking wrong, and Jon would appreciate the reinforcement that he suspected her brothers would provide.

“Loud doesn’t bother me,” Jon assured her as they hit the top step of the stoop and he hooked sunglasses into the neck of his black t-shirt. “They’re going to be pissed at Owen, not you or me, and I’m completely on board with that.”

“You don’t know my family,” came her dire warning.  “They’ll be pissed at me, alright.  Then disappointed.  After they get that out of the way, then they’ll move onto Owen.”

He couldn’t stand the unhappiness that was dulling the chocolate of her irises to mud and, as she reached for the handle on the storm door, Jon grabbed her wrist.  “Hey.  I may not know your ‘family’, but I know your brothers and they love you.  Without a doubt.  I can’t imagine that your parents and best friend love you any less.  Stop worrying.”

Doe eyes blinked up at him and she slowly nodded.  “I’ll try, but if it gets too bad, you’re gonna have to do that Superman thing and rescue me.  Okay?”

“Okay,” he agreed, releasing her wrist and stood back, holding the outer glass door while she crossed the threshold into the house. 

Following behind her, Jon heard the distinctive sounds of a football game on the television as he ensured that both doors were securely closed.  The counselor was moving toward the living room where he could see that her father, Vince and Luke were all lined up on a comfortable beige sofa.  Upon joining her, he found that Dominick occupied one of two black and white armchairs whose fabric matched the curtains.  White, blue, and black cushions and blue were piled on both ends of the couch, wine glasses filled to various levels were scattered on the tables, and all four men were intent upon the game.

“Giants playing?” the counselor asked by way of greeting from the edge of the living room, while Jon stood behind her shoulder. 

“Nah, they’ve got the Monday night game this week.  We’re watching the Bills until the Patriots come on,” her father said, rising.  After giving his daughter a hug, he extended a hand to Jon, who moved around her to accept it.  “I know we met at Vivi’s party, but I have a different perception of how things are now, so I’ll introduce myself again.  Edward Del Vecchio.  Charlie’s dad.”

“Jon Bon Jovi, sir.”  The counselor’s dad was older than Jon by at least a couple of decades, but his grip was stronger than a lot of men he knew.  Owen, in particular. 

Whatever was happening on the screen held the interest of Chiara’s brothers enough to keep them in their seats.  They offered absent waves and greetings while barely glancing away from the screen. 

“Everybody else in the kitchen?” the counselor inquired, sneakered feet making tracks down the hall without bothering to wait for her father’s confirmation.  “I’ll be right back, Jon.”

That left him still standing in the doorway with her father, and Jon shrugged both shoulders up to push hands into his front pockets.  “Bills winning?”

Luke snorted from the sofa.  “Hell, no.  Do they ever?”

“Not a lot,” was his rueful admissions.  The Buffalo Bills weren’t generally known as Super Bowl contenders, but since they were a New York team, he tried to maintain his optimism. 

Reclaiming his seat on the left side of the couch, Edward pointed to the other drapery-matching armchair in the opposite corner of the room from Dom’s.  “Jon, sit.  I know Charlie said she has something to tell us and that’s why you’re here today, but I want to talk to you.”

Fifity-three years old.  That’s how old Jon was, and as he sat on the edge of the indicated chair, he was still a little nervous about being grilled by his girlfriend’s dad.  It wasn’t like he had anything to hide or be ashamed of – that hadn’t happened over twenty years ago – but there was still the remnants of a teenage boy inside him wondering if her father would deem him inadequate for Chiara. 

He hoped not.  Edward’s opinion would be valued, but if it came back as unfavorable, that wouldn’t be enough to send Jon packing.  The counselor’s opinion was the only one with that power, and even then, she would have to prove that she was damn serious about it.  An argument wasn’t enough to do the trick.

Obviously.

“My sons tell me you love Charlie,” Edward remarked while turning down the volume on the television and shushing those same sons’ complaints.  “And that they think you’ll be good for her.”

“Sorry, dude.”

“Nah, it’s fine,” he responded to Luke’s apology comfortably and flicked a smile in that direction before addressing the Del Vecchio patriarch.  “That’s right, sir, and I’m glad to hear I pass inspection with her brothers.  I know they want what’s best for her.”

“We all do,” was his flat proclamation.  “She’s put up with that damn Canuck way too long – probably because I told her to do the right thing and not embarrass the family, when the truth is… If it weren’t for Noah and Caleb, her mother and I would have mourned this marriage from the start.  Do you have kids?”

It sounded like Edward was already harboring some guilt over the counselor’s life and marriage, and it made Jon sympathetic.  When the real reasons were revealed today, he had a feeling this man was going to beat himself up for a long time to come.

“I have a daughter and three sons.”

“Good.  Then you understand the regret that comes when your children follow your selfish advice.  I’ve seen my daughter unhappy long enough.  You cause any further unhappiness and I’ll ensure that you pay for it.  I may be retired, but I still have NYPD connections that I won’t hesitate to use.  We clear on that?”

“Christ, Dad,” Luke chimed in with disgust.  “Don’t you think you should’ve done the heavy-handed father thing the first time around?  Charlie knows what she’s doing, so lay off.”

A slow, easy smile crept over Jon’s face.  The revelation that Edward was NYPD, too – and that he didn’t seem to mind pulling some strings to ensure justice – far outweighed his overbearing father speech. 

“Crystal clear, sir.  I just wonder if you might consider using those connections to ensure that Owen pays for what he’s done.”

He had everyone’s attention now.  Luke and Edward trained hawk-like gazes on him, while Vince and Dominick both sat up a little straighter in their seats.  All of them were poised with anticipation.

“You wanna give us a little more than that?” Vince demanded, unsurprisingly.  Chiara’s middle brother was as uptight as ever, but seeing as it was warranted this time around, Jon chose not to let it get under his skin.

“I’d like to, but I can’t.  Not yet.  Chiara has to talk to you all first.”

“Charlie!”  Dominick’s voice filled the house with the power of a sonic boom as he shifted his prosthetic leg to scoot to the edge of his seat.  “Get your ass in here!”

In less than a minute, the counselor was entering the room, having exchanged her leather jacket for an apron and followed closely by Izzie.  “What in the hell are you bellowing about?”

“Whatever you’ve got to say to the family, say it now.”

Her lips pursed into a pucker of disapproval at the decree, and simmering cocoa eyes shot daggers at Jon.  She clearly thought something he said prompted the command performance and she wasn’t happy about being rushed into it.  He hated that she now felt rushed, but he wasn't sorry to get this out of the way.  

Completely unbothered by her pique, he propped both forearms on his knees and philosophized, “Might as well get it over with, Counselor.”

“I was hoping to get a couple of glasses of wine in me – and them – first.”

It wasn't a case of being rushed that had her piqued.  The restless way she reached for her cross pendant and ran it back and forth over its fine chain revealed that she was unnerved, and he recalled her prophesy from the porch.   She truly believed it was her that the family would be angry with before Owen took center stage.

“Chiara.”  Commanding the attention of her unsettled eyes, he spoke into them as though no one else was in the room.  “The hard part is already over.  Everybody here loves you, but if gets to be too much, all you have to do is say the word.  I will not let anybody else hurt you – even your family.”

“Hey, what the hell –“

“Stifle it, Vince.”  Izzie’s command was immediate and left no room for argument.  “He knows what she needs.  Let him give it to her.”

Jon heard the counselor’s best friend, but his focus remained on the woman he fell further in love with every time she stuck out her chin and defied adversity. 

Like now.

“Izzie, would you get Ma and Vivi, please?”  Still holding his eyes captive, the counselor squared her shoulders and crossed the room to him.  “It’s time to confess my sins.”

After the briefest of kisses, she assumed a seat on the footstool in front of his chair and Jon slid a comforting hand up to knead shoulders that were as rigid as her spine, murmuring, “One more time, baby.  That’s all.”

The silken ponytail shifted over the back of her blouse as the counselor gave a silent nod.  Her tension was palpable under his touch and it made him nuts that he couldn’t simply take it away.  His job here today was to stand back and let her do this the way she saw fit – and be ready to step in if she needed him to.

104:Sunup Butter Up

October 18

Charlie covered a wide, jaw-popping yawn with the back of her hand and shivered under the light jacket she’d packed in anticipation of Florida temperatures.   East Hampton was definitely not Orlando, and the ocean breeze that was stirring before sunup cut right through it, but she was happy they’d decided to go ahead and come East after dinner last night. 

Even in the murky pre-dawn light, she could see that the lilies were gone and the trees were well on the way to shedding their leaves.  Those things, along with the biting air, gave the place a totally different feel than the Hamptons where she and Jon “found” each other, but when she stepped through the front door of the house on Lily Pond Lane… It didn’t matter.  She still loved it.

“Thank you for being so indulgent and bringing me here,” she said as he shut the door behind them, her tired smile reflecting the time difference and questionable sleep quality on the plane.  “I think it’s become my happy place.”

Coming close enough to share the same air, he inclined his head to dust soft lips over hers.  “Good.  You deserve a happy place after yesterday.”

It had been rough finding out that Owen had long been laying plans to discredit her with the boys and their disapproval of her adulterous ways in dating Jon.  In the end though, as Jon had told her, the rollercoaster of emotions had been worth it. 

The boys were disappointed and furious with their father, which was unfortunate just because Charlie hated seeing them upset about anything, but they’d immediately stopped giving Jon the cold shoulder and started talking to him – them.  Upon discovering that their college costs were part of the reason she’d stayed married for so long, her sons instantly declared that they wanted to come home and go to school in New York, where there was decent pizza.

Charlie felt obligated to argue with them and say that it wasn't necessary, but after two half-hearted attempts, she let it go.  Changes were coming for everyone, it seemed.

“If it wasn’t so cold out, I’d walk over to the beach and watch the sunrise.”

“That the only thing stopping you?” he asked, dropping his duffel at the foot of the stairs while she started up them with her bag.

“Pretty much.”

“Then it ain’t stoppin’ you anymore.”  Jon lightly threw his chin.  “There should be sweatshirts in my dresser.  Grab us a couple while I make coffee.  We’ll go to the beach and talk about the shit I let slide last night.”

Pausing about a third of the way up the staircase, Charlie’s eyes dropped to find the gentle yet determined features of her boyfriend, and there was no feigning ignorance.  He wanted to talk about what came next and, unless she missed her guess, give her just a little bit of hell. 

“Sounds good,” she agreed quietly, having waited for this figurative shoe to drop ever since leaving the boys in front of their dorm last night.  As he said, though… He let it slide.  They’d lain in the little plane bed, wrapped around one another and discussing possible dates for Disney, instead.

Ten minutes later, his voice came bellowing up the stairs, “Hurry your ass up, Counselor, or you’re gonna miss that sunrise!”

“I’m here, I’m here,” she grumbled with a smile, tossing him a navy hooded Patriots sweatshirt that was just like the gray one she wore.

He tossed his hat onto a big, square newel post and shimmied into it while Charlie grabbed one of the insulated coffee cups that he’d put on the other post.  Deciding that he had a good idea about leaving the hood up, she tucked her ponytail into the neckline with one hand and brought hers over her head.

“Ready?” he asked, and when she nodded, they zipped out the door for the short trek to the Main Beach.

Considering both the time of year and time of morning, the beach was understandably deserted when they arrived, so they left their toed-off shoes near the entrance and found a dune closer to the water.  They settled their butts into the chilly sand, and Jon slipped his arm around her waist as he sipped his coffee.

“If I could live here, I think I would,” Charlie remarked contentedly after pushing the base of her cup into the sand and leaning into him. 

“You’re a beach girl, huh?”

“Yes, but I was talking about East Hampton.  It’s a little odd to be here and not have you scowling at me, but at the same time, it’s pleasantly nostalgic.  I’m reminded of how far things have come in the last couple months.  How quickly things can change.”

“Yeah,” was his thoughtful agreement.  “Last time my ass was in this sand, I was cussing you and your little dog, too.  Now I kinda miss the fur butt.  Think she’ll be okay on a helicopter?  We could pick her up when we go into the city later.  ”

Charlie lifted her head from his shoulder to ask curiously, “Why are we going into the city?”

“Sunrise first.  Then that.”  His arm cinched tight around her as the uppermost curve of the sun cracked the horizon to cast a warm glow over the ocean.  “You remind me of the sun, yanno.”

There weren’t many things he could’ve said to distract her from his “go into the city” comment, but that did it.

“Good diversionary tactic, Bongiovi.  Now tell me how.”

“Diversionary, but true nonetheless.”  His chuckle was quiet, and the daylight broke over his smile as he glanced over at her before again setting his sights on the ocean.  “The sun rises every morning with the devastating ability to set the world on fire.  Sometimes it does – wildfires, sunburn and such – but if you take the proper precautions with it…  There’s just warmth and light.  That’s you.”

Charlie pulled against his embrace to turn and stare at him, blinking slowly.  She was… flabbergasted.  Yes, she’d known there must be some kind of soft, poetic spot deep inside him.  Jon was a songwriter, after all.  He had to wear rose-colored glasses on occasion, but that wasn’t his normal mode of operation and it sure as hell wasn’t how he usually talked to her. 

He’d first professed his love with an angrily bellowed F-bomb, for crying out loud!

The corners of his mouth twitched in his unshaven face as crinkled eyes peeked her way.  “You’re missing the sunrise, Counselor.” 

“I…”  Charlie tilted her head to one side, shaking it in bewilderment.  “I still don’t really know you, do I?”

A fleeting frown creased his features as he lifted one shoulder.  “I’d say you know me about as well as anybody.”

“Well, then that whole sunrise thing was you buttering me up for something I’m not going to like, right?  Because that was my first thought.”

His deep, hearty laughter echoed in the quiet and the spontaneity of it had Charlie smiling along with him.  He’d spent so much of their relationship angry or sullen that a happy Jon still packed a punch.  She would probably get used to it someday, but for the time being, it was still a lovely novelty.

“Just goes to prove you do know me, I guess.” he snorted.  “I’m not lyin’, but when I chose to offer the observation was a matter of… selective timing.”

Charlie rocked to one side, bumping her left shoulder against him so that his coffee sloshed onto his jeans.  “I can’t even be mad at that, so consider me buttered and move on.”

Wiping at his pant leg with one hand, he buried the base of his cup in the sand with the other.  The sun crept higher above the edge of the sea, making it easy for her to see his unshaven face go solemn.  Well, maybe not solemn, but definitely not laughing. 

With his heels planted in the sand, he leaned forward and folded his arms atop bent knees while surveying the come and go of the gently lapping tide. 

“I’m not thrilled that you didn’t tell me that sonofabitch was using your brother’s death to manipulate you.  And, now that I know what kind of… cruel shit he did to keep you under his thumb, there are three crucial things I’d like to see happen in the immediate future.”

That was a bit extreme, she thought, pushing her toes into the cold sand and mimicking his position of bent knees.  Rather than folding her arms on top of her knees, though, she wrapped them around.

“Cruel is over-exaggerating it.  Annoying is a better description.”

“No, it’s not,” he countered with a scowling shake of his head.  “If you wanna get right down to it, it was emotional and psychological abuse.  He was fucking with your head and making you carry around this huge guilt complex so that you wouldn’t focus on getting rid of his ass.  That’s why, first and foremost, I hope you’re planning to see that therapist of yours a while longer.  You can’t erase years of what he did with a couple weeks.”

Charlie hadn’t considered continuing those visits.  Her thought was that she was through everything, and there was no need for additional… support, as it were.

“Jon, I really don’t think that’s necessary.”

“I figured as much,” he acknowledged with an arched eyebrow.  “But I’m not talking about two, three times a week like you have been, just don’t stop altogether. Think about it, anyway.”

That wasn’t unreasonable, so she had no qualms about saying, “I promise to think about it.  Now what else?”

He took a deep breath and said firmly, “I’d still like you to go through with the anniversary party.  There’s a chance things won’t pan out the way I wanted, but letting him off scot-free and meekly handing him divorce papers along with half of everything you have…  That’s not gonna work for me.  Piece of fuck has to pay the piper, one way or another.”

“So what is it you have in mind, then?”

“To bring one of your brothers in the loop on this,” he proclaimed.  “I like Luke a lot, but I’m thinking Vince or Dominick because of their police background.  If we can find a way to make blackmail, extortion, abuse or something stick, Owen won’t get jack shit in a divorce and his new home will be in a six by six cell.  It’s not my favorite scenario, since he’s not crying and bleeding, but I can make myself content with it.”

Her ponytail scooted back and forth across her neck inside the gray hoodie.  That sounded fabulous, but there was no way it was going to happen. 

“You realize I can’t prove any of it?  Other that what Noah overheard, it’s nothing more than my word against Owen’s.”

Curling his arm around her shoulders, Jon pulled her close and nosed the hood out of the way so that he could press a kiss to her temple.  “That’s why I want to talk to one of your brothers.  They know how people manipulate the legal system.  Let’s see if they can use that experience to help us find a way.”

“Is this why we’re going to the city today?”

“Yeah.”

“And we’re coming back here tonight?  With Nana?”

“That was the plan.”

It truly served no point from where she stood, because whatever damage had been done happened too long ago to make a difference to her.  Screwing him out of a divorce settlement would be nice, but was it worth the hassle?  Maybe it’s because she was tired that Charlie didn’t care about anything beyond serving Owen with the divorce papers and walking away. 

Jon, however, had put up with a lot on her behalf.  Put up with her for that matter while she was trying to get her life in order.  If this is what would make him feel better about the whole thing, then she wasn’t going to argue about it.

“I want you to know I’m only doing this for you.”

“Fine by me,” he told her bluntly.  “If you don’t have enough energy, interest, or inclination to vindicate yourself…  Well, I have enough interest for both of us.”

“Okay.”  With the air slowly seeping out of her lungs in a long, quiet sigh, she leaned into him and said, “But I can’t bring just one of my brothers into this.  It’s an all or nothing thing, and if they know, then my parents have to know.  If my parents know, then Izzie has to know.”

“So what does that mean?”

The sun was almost fully above the water now, and a new day had officially broken.  In a short while, the world would be up and stirring, readying itself for whatever changes the day would bring because nothing ever stayed the same.  That’s just the way life was, and Charlie’s life was shaping up to have another eventful day.

“It means I need to call a family dinner.”

103:For You

After the bubbles faded and the afterglow dimmed, Jon and Chiara deliberately and mindlessly wasted the remainder of the afternoon.   She needed the mental recuperation time and, quite honestly, so did he.

Tears weren’t his thing in the first place, because they left him powerless to do anything but hold on and hope his embrace and reassurances might help. Seeing the strong-willed counselor weeping as though her grief was a bottomless well of despair had done a number on Jon, and he would do almost anything to prevent a repeat recurrence of it.

That’s how he ended up on the hotel sofa with her lying in his lap, a captive audience to Disney on Demand’s Peter Pan.  Chiara wanted him to see the crocodile she had likened him to in the beginning of their relationship, and today, he was glad to indulge her.  If it kept her smiling instead of blubbering, then they’d watch Peter Pan followed by Cinderella with a Snow White encore.  He didn’t care.  Whatever it took.

Once Tink and the boy that refused to grow up had taken their leave, though, she hadn’t been drawn to any other cartoons.   Chiara was more interested in showering and washing her hair for the dinner that her sons had unenthusiastically agreed to.

Now, wearing makeup, with her hair brushed out and the whites of her eyes actually white, she resembled herself again.  The red lightweight sweater brought out some color in her cheeks and she wore her jeans like a very comfortable second skin. 

“You look better,” he observed with an appreciative smile while fastening the last button required on the black shirt.  Leaving at least three open was in the rock god handbook on page seventy-two, paragraph three.  It was his favorite passage.

“Better, huh?  You’ll make my head swell with that kind of compliment.”  

The teasing lilt to her voice cranked up the wattage on his smile.  She wasn’t dreading dinner, which pleased him.  It was his thought that they were in for an awkward hour at most, and then everything would start to improve.  They would get used to him and his new role the in periphery of their lives, they would get a little more insight than their mother was comfortable providing on her own behalf, and then things would start settling into the new normal. 

That was the plan, anyway.

Jon patted the counselor’s backside with a heavy hand and leaned in to buss her lips.  “Then I take it back, because my head’s swelled enough for both of us.  You ready to go?”

The corners of her mouth slipped a little as a shadow skittered over her features, but shiny mahogany hair shimmered as she nodded.  “Yep.”

“We’re meeting them at the restaurant, right?  Where are we going again?”

“Since there is, and I quote, ‘no decent pizza in California’, they’ve opted for a steak and seafood place that’s ‘as far from cafeteria food as you can get’.  Also a quote.”

“They’ve got a point about the pizza, and I can’t blame them on the cafeteria food,” Jon granted while placing a light hand at Chiara’s back to guide her out the door and down the hall.  Hitting the call button for the elevator he glanced over and nonchalantly mentioned, “I’d rather argue with you in the elevator than the restaurant, so I’m going to bring up something that I hope should be obvious.”

She entered the elevator car with one dark brow arched suspiciously and turned to face forward.  “And what is that?”

The heavy doors slid shut with a quiet whoosh when he pushed the button for the ground floor, and Jon sidled close to drape a light arm around her shoulders.  “As I recall, the last time I went to dinner with you and your sons, there were some ugly words exchanged over who would pay the check.”

The counselor’s nose wrinkled in delicate distaste, no doubt recalling his boorish barb that it was his money regardless of who paid the bill.  “I seem to remember that, yes.”

“Well, there won’t be any ugly words this time, just a simple statement.  I’m taking my girlfriend and her kids out to dinner.  Got it?”

Dusty pink lips puckered with contemplation while milk chocolate eyes sparkled mischievously, and Chiara swiveled on her heel to place both palms against his chest.  Those puckered lips followed suit when she placed them against his in a sensual kiss that ended with her suckling his bottom lip.   

“Yeah, I’ve got it,” she assented in a small voice, and Jon was transfixed by the glossy residue of their kiss glistening on her lips.  “Dessert’s on me, though.”

She turned him on.  There was just no two ways about it.  Why else would he take that seemingly innocent statement and make it the script for his newest dirty fantasy?

“I rather hoped that a certain sexy cannoli would be on me – riding me – but however you wanna work it…”

Her sultry chuckle sent a warmth through Jon’s abdomen and he almost wished they were staying in for both dinner and dessert. 

“We’ll figure out something,” the counselor pledged and slid her hand into his as the elevator doors parted.  “Here’s hoping tonight goes better than today did.”

With a tight squeeze, Jon silently promised that it would.  He’d watched Peter Pan today, by God.  They were done with the tears.  He’d make sure of it.

Twenty minutes later, they were seated in a quiet corner booth of a subtly lit restaurant called Sundance The Steakhouse.  He and the counselor were on one side of the rich cherry and leather booth with wine chosen from the vast menu.  Her sons were sitting opposite them with beverages more appropriate for young men not yet of drinking age – soda and water. 

The waitress had just left with orders for a variety of steak, seafood and pasta, and her departure brought with it a quiet lull in conversation.  Although, to be fair, there really hadn’t been any conversation at all up to this point – only casual and slightly stilted greetings.

Noah and Caleb were more subdued than Jon had ever seen them.  Every time he’d shared dinner with them before, they were both eager to talk about anything and everything.  Now two dark heads were bent over their phones, with neither showing any inclination to chat.

If their hope was to dissuade Jon’s inclination to chat, they were about to be sorely disappointed. 

He took the feminine hand draped over his thigh and folded it into his for a gentle squeeze before diving in head-first.  “I’m glad you guys decided to join us for dinner.  Your mom misses you being in New York, so I know she appreciates the extra chance to see you – even if it’s been a rough day for everybody.”

Noah’s cocoa eyes flashed up just long enough to cast the distinct impression that he was biting his tongue before sliding back to his phone.  By contrast, his younger brother was parking his own phone on the table, fiddling with the cutlery as he put Jon under careful scrutiny. 

“Were you and Mom seeing each other in the Hamptons?”

Okay.  Not exactly the direction Jon had anticipated, but he was all about an open and honest discussion.  Whatever would get them on the road to normal.

“Kind of,” the counselor interjected over the rim of her wineglass before he could speak.  “We were… drawn together even though we didn’t want to be.  And Jon didn’t know about your dad until you guys went backstage in Vancouver, so he isn’t at fault here.”

It was sweet of her to defend him, and he stroked appreciative fingertips over that hand that was still on his thigh.  Jon, however, was quite capable of speaking for himself.  “Nobody is at fault.”

“Not how it sounds to me.” 

Noah’s quietly grumbled retort wasn’t necessarily open since he didn’t bother averting his focus away from the iPhone, but it was honest.  Jon would give the kid that, and it was why he was careful to offer his next words kindly.

“Then maybe you better listen again.  Your mom hasn’t shared a whole lot about what happened today, but I know it upset her deeply.”

The counselor gave his foot a sharp nudge under the table.  “Jon, this isn’t necessary.”

“Yes it is.”  His disagreement was as kind as the original remark, and he noted that they now had the full attention of both boys.  “You’re not psychotic or delusional, but you’re not invincible, either.  Noah and Caleb should know that they have the power to hurt you.”

She didn’t say anything, but if looks could kill…  Well, he’d at least have a hefty flesh wound, but Jon was tough.  He could take it, and would if it meant these kids comprehended how stupid it was to believe their mother was mentally unstable – or that she didn’t deserve something better than their father.

“Do you guys want to know why your mom has been seeing a therapist?  Because it has nothing to do with hallucinations.  She’s been holding herself responsible for your Uncle Joey’s death all these years.”

“Huh?” Bewilderment flooded Caleb’s features. “I know I was little when that happened, but…  It was a terrorist attack.  I don’t understand how it could be your fault.”

“It’s not.”

“No, it’s not,” Chiara echoed Jon’s avowal, pushing her wine away to fold arms atop the weathered cherry table.

 Her head was held high as she leaned in, and Jon laid a reinforcing palm at the small of her back, glad to for the confidence in her voice.  She wasn’t just giving lip service.  She believed it.   

“Joey was in my office the day of the attacks – because I’d asked him to come – and I made him stay there while I went downstairs for coffee.  He died and I didn’t, so I’ve had… issues with it.  Jon convinced me it was time to work through it.”

Caleb’s confusion and subsequent sympathy as he offered his apologies were both understandable and appropriate.  Noah’s reaction, however, wasn’t what one might expect.  With thinned lips, downturned eyes and a stormy scowl, he was the epitome of anger.   

“Noah?  Something wrong?”

Jon was the one to pose the question, but the young man pierced his mother with an accusatory glare.  “Dad said that to you, didn’t he?  That the family didn’t have any choice but to blame you, because you were responsible.”

Other than a face that went as white as the knuckles on her tightly clenched fists, Chiara gave no outward appearance of being disturbed.  Her voice sounded no different than it ever did when inquiring, “How do you know that, Noah?”

Jon didn’t need any more than that to know the boy was right.   Owen hadn’t just been blackmailing her but had also been trying his hand at emotional abuse.   

He could almost feel the satisfying crunch of the guys nose splattering over his face, even as Jon slid a hand that was feather-light to cup around Chiara’s neck.  It had been a long, long time since he deemed something worth the price of a physical fist-fight.  Breaking his hand screwed with both his career and ability to make a living, but for this…  Owen Foster was going to get a good old-fashioned ass kicking until Jon’s knuckles bled as much as that fucker’s face.   

“I heard him once, a long time ago,” Noah bitterly revealed, and his anger now fully justified in Jon’s mind.  “I went past the living room and Dad was reading the paper while you worked at the desk.  He was just talking like it was normal conversation, saying how hard it was for the family and that, since you were responsible, they couldn’t be faulted for blaming you.  I didn’t know what he was talking about at the time, but it was right after school had started for the year, so it must’ve been around 9/11.”

“Probably so,” was the counselor’s placid agreement as she hooked fingers around the base of her wineglass and lifted it.  “Something similar happened nearly every year.”

“So…”  Caleb’s gaze shifted back and forth between the pissed-off face of his brother and the quietly resigned one of his mother.  “What does this mean?”

“I think it means Dad lied to us.  Mom didn’t hallucinate anything.  He was just trying to cover his own scheming ass.”

“Mom?  Is that true?”

Placing the glass down on Jon’s side of the table, she stretched across to take one of their hands in each of hers.  “I’m sorry, baby, but yes.  Your dad hasn’t been particularly nice to me.”

“Then why the fuck did you stay with him so long?” Noah demanded, jerking free of her grasp in a show of hurt that his father was an ass and frustration that his mother tolerated it.  “Why would you put up with that crap?”

The counselor’s left hand lay open and empty, and Jon watched her mouth stutter and go silently closed as pain-riddled eyes fell shut for a long second before opening again.  Knowing her, she was trying to find the right words, but in Jon’s mind, there were only five that would do.

“She did it for you.”

*102:Compromise

Charlie’s nose was running and probably as red as the gritty, swollen eyes that still wouldn’t quite stop leaking.  Her leg muscles were stiff from lack of warm-up or warm-down.  Her entire body was as limp as an overcooked linguini noodle.

The only positive thing she could find in this moment was the soothing splash of bath water as Jon skated his big toe up and down her calf and support of his strong arms wrapped around her.  From the moment he caught sight of her in the hall, he’d been nothing but the Superman he sang to her about at Vivi’s birthday party – saving her when the stars fell from her sky.

His quiet “I’ve got you” and “just lean on me” had ripped out a fresh wave of ugly crying when she would’ve sworn there wasn’t another tear left in her body.  He was there for her like no one else had ever been – and now she had to tell him this mess still wasn’t over.

“I…  I told the boys about the divorce first, and they were fine with it.  Like really fine.  Caleb said the only surprise was that it hadn’t happened sooner.”

The boys exchanged a silent glance before Caleb spoke.  “Only surprise there is that it took so long.  It’s not like you and dad have ever been close, at least that I can remember.”

“Me either.”  The hand that squeezed hers wasn’t that of a boy, but a man and Noah assured, “It’s fine, Mom.  We’re past the age of being permanently scarred by divorce.”

Charlie breathed an internal sigh of relief.  Phase one of three was accomplished, and they seemed fine with it.  Then again, that was quite possibly the least of what she had to tell them.  It definitely wasn’t the worst. 

“Well…  There’s a story behind why it took so long.  I, uh.  I did some things I’m not particularly proud of and didn’t want you to ever find out about them.  Your dad knows that and threatened to tell you everything if I tried to leave him, so I’ve decided to tell you myself.”

Once again her boys exchanged a silent look. 

“Okay.” 

She took Noah’s agreement to represent both sons, and Charlie proceeded to tell the same tale she told Jon about the Bar Exam and… the half-successful abortion. 

“Okay, so that’s good, right?” the hard, wet man beneath her asked now.  “And they know Owen isn’t aware right?  So they won’t go calling him about it?”

“They’re aware Owen doesn’t know.  They won’t say anything.”

“No bad news there or nothing to be mad about, so…?”

Even her state of utter mental, emotional and physical fatigue, Charlie could still feel her temper spike every time she thought about what came next. 

When she finished her story, there was nothing but the sounds of the forest.  Birds chattered in the trees, and a breeze blew through the majestic redwoods, but her sons – they sat there looking uncomfortably at one another.

“So…  Do you hate me or what?” she finally asked when neither of them were forthcoming with a reaction. 

Her eldest took the lead again, turning her hand over in his.  “Mom.  You don’t have to be some Super Woman.  It’s okay to need help.”

“I'm sorry...  I... What is that supposed to mean?”

Caleb withdrew his hand and slid a supportive arm around her shoulders.  “This isn’t like the old days, when they locked people in padded rooms.  Mental illness is treatable in mainstream society, without the stigma it once had.  You should totally take advantage of that.”

Her chin swung back and forth like a pendulum as she looked from one son to the other and back again.  “What in the hell are you talking about?”

The question prompted another of those silent looks to be exchanged between the boys before Noah lifted his eyebrows questioningly.  With a mute nod, his younger brother gave him permission to speak on his behalf.

“Dad told us a long time ago that you had a nervous breakdown when we were little.  That you experienced some kind of psychotic thing where you think things happened that really didn’t.  Since you never mentioned it and never acted strange around us, we thought you got better.”

“Then,” Caleb picked up the thread.  “He called last month to tell us you’re seeing a psychiatrist and that the delusions might surface again.  He wanted us to be prepared for something like this, which I guess is good, since it happened.  But don’t worry.  We still love you.”

“Yeah, Mom.  If there’s anything we can do to help...  We just want you to be well.”

Her nostrils flared with the harsh exhalation of breath.  “I told them about the Bar Exam and their… lost sibling, but they didn’t have much reaction other than to look at each other and communicate with their eyes.  When prompted…”

Schooling herself to take deep breaths in and out, Charlie swallowed the tears that were evidently bottomless today. 

“Take your time,” her Superman encouraged with a gentle constriction of his embrace.  Normally so impatient, Jon was showing the utmost tolerance today, even while his muscles were coiled with tension beneath her and waiting to spring.

“Several years ago, Owen told them I had a nervous breakdown when they were younger – a psychotic episode in which I evidently hallucinated things like Bar Exams and abortions.”

The warm, solid man beneath her hardened into a slab of solid marble and venomously spat, “That sleazy sonofabitch!”

“Mhm.” The wearily-offered agreement was merely meant to placate him long enough for her to push through with the rest.  “He was also kind enough to call within the last month and let them know I was seeing a psychiatrist because it meant these hallucinations may manifest themselves again.  It was important to him that they be prepared, just in case.”

“The fucker knew you were working up to a divorce and is trying to keep his ass covered.”

“He also took something I've been building toward for years and made it... meaningless.”

“Surely, you told your kids that you didn’t have a nervous breakdown or hallucinations?”

She had, but…

“I have never had a hallucination in my life,” Charlie declared to both sons, with the full expectation that they would believe her.  “You’ve spent your entire lives with me.  Do you really think I’m going to make something like this up?”

Noah lifted a reluctant shoulder.  “You probably don’t think you are.”

They really didn’t believe her.  Owen had successfully convinced her sons that she was batshit crazy and that what she said couldn’t be trusted.  Charlie was… livid.

Taking a deep breath, she reminded herself that Owen was their father and that verbally disemboweling him to their sons wasn’t going to make her appear any saner.  No matter what else the manipulative piece of shit did, he had always been a good father from her sons’ perspective.  If she tried to ruin that for them, they’d only hold it against her, and that left Charlie grudgingly taking the high road.

“My main objective was to ensure that you both knew about something potentially painful that may come to light during this divorce.  I’ve done that, and I will go a step further and tell you how much I regret those actions.  Someday, when you find out that this is fact instead of fiction, we can talk about it again if you want.”

For the first time, there was an undercurrent of uncertainty in the look the boys exchanged.  Maybe her calm and confident lawyer voice had been able to deliver the first pinprick of doubt to deflate Owen’s story.  Perhaps it would continue to seep air and her sons would recognize what Charlie said for the truth it was.  She could hope, anyway.

“In the meantime, there’s one more thing that I wanted to tell you.  Jesse’s dad and I are dating and have been for a while.  It’s pretty serious.”

“Mr. Bongiovi?” Her youngest son’s forehead crumpled in a display of either anger or perplexity, Charlie couldn’t decipher which.  “You’ve been having an affair with Mr. Bongiovi?”

“Jesus, Mom.  That’s beneath you.”

She woudn’t completely eviscerate Owen to the boys, but Charlie sure as hell wasn’t going to be the bad guy for finding happiness.

“Don’t try and shame me,” she ordered them both while trying to keep her anger channeled in the appropriate direction.  They weren’t at fault, Owen was.  “Your dad has kept me hostage in this marriage for fifteen years by holding those ‘hallucinations’ over my head.  He knew I’d rather be his sole financial support and stay in a loveless marriage than hurt either of you.  That means you’re not allowed to give me crap over this.  I wasn’t looking for love, but I won’t apologize for finding it.”

“Counselor?”

“I told them,” she confirmed jadedly, tangling their fingers together in the bubbles at her waist.  God, she was tired.  “But does anybody really listen to a crazy person saying they aren’t crazy?  The best I could do was adopt my lawyer persona and reiterate the facts, my regret over them and advise them we could talk again when they realized it was all true.”

“That’s good.”  His approval came with another supportive clenching of arms.  “I hope you also mentioned that their father was a useless piece of garbage who’s manipulating them for his own shitty purposes.”

The water was growing steadily cooler, and Charlie’s butt was starting to go numb from sitting in the same position.  Bubbles flew into the air as she shifted in his embrace, and she absently thought that bubbles should usher in something fun.  This wasn’t much fun for either of them.

“It’s not fair to assassinate their father’s character when he’s always been good to them, so no, not really,” she murmured, torn between wanting them to see Owen for what he was and a desire for them to keep the father they knew and loved - to keep their childhood as pristine as every childhood should be – even if their mother got taken away in the process.  Life was too freaking complicated.  “But when they found out you and I were dating and started in on how having an affair was beneath me, I didn’t hesitate to explain that Owen held those hallucinations over my head all these years and their well-being is the only reason I allowed it.”

“So their father is a jackoff, but it’s me they aren’t happy about.  That makes sense.”

Bending her legs and using the momentum of the water to twist on her bottom, Charlie really looked at him for the first time since coming back to the hotel.  As she feared, his handsome features were dark with displeasure, and the lines around his mouth rivaled the ones in his forehead for depth.  She was aging him.  This whole thing was aging him right before her eyes.

“Baby.”  Leaning forward, she pushed sudsy palms from low on his abdomen to his chest, worshipping the hard heat of his body as well as the man himself.  “It’s my actions they don’t approve of, not you, and that’s because they don’t understand.  I did it to myself by keeping them shielded all these years.”

“Which they should appreciate,” he insisted, enclosing her wrists and tugged until she glided forward to lie on his chest.  “I think we should take them out for dinner tonight and have a little friendly discussion about the whole thing.”

“Jon…”  Charlie was tired of the whole thing.  Enough was enough for one day.  “What’s the point?  I mean, really?”

“The point is…”  He tugged again until she’d slithered far enough up his chest for Jon to place a kiss on her upturned mouth.  “We all have to eat and our relationship isn’t ‘beneath’ anybody.  They may as well get used to it sooner rather than later.”

“Do you realize how exhausted I am?” she groaned, finding herself on the verge of tears again.  “How much I just want to do something fun?  That will make me smile?”

Her wrists were released so that wide, capable hands could slither down and knead suds into the roundness of her backside.  “Tell me what will make you smile and it’s yours.”

With the way his fingers were skating along the crease between her butt and thigh, Charlie knew very well that he was guilty of leading the witness.  Since the witness wanted to go in that direction, however, she didn't object.

“Sex.”

“Sex?” he echoed thoughtfully, still kneading the fleshy globes that were her ass.  “I can probably do that, but what exactly did you have in mind?  Like ‘fuck my brains out’ sex or ‘make love to me’ sex?  Because those are very different things.”

Charlie’s nostrils flared with a sharply inhaled breath.  As raw as her emotions were, if he made love to her, she’d start blubbering again.  Then again, she didn’t want a solely physical encounter either.

“Somewhere in between.”

“Alright.”  His easy agreement came just before a sensual tongue licked along her bottom lip.  “And when you’re smiling after that orgasm, you’ll call the boys and set up dinner.  Right?”

The middle finger tunneling its way into her channel had her sucking another breath.  “You’re manipulating me,” she accused breathily, while parting her thighs to give him greater access.  The invitation was immediately accepted, and another finger joined the first with both moving to massage her g-spot.

“No.  I’m giving you something that you want in exchange for something I want.  It’s called compromise, and it’s the basis of any solid relationship.”

After the day she’d had so far, it felt good to let her mind go so that her body – and his – could take over.  Unthinking hedonism that ended in an explosive orgasm sounded like Nirvana to her.

“Two orgasms, and I’m in.”

The breath in her ear was as hot and steamy as the intimate space he was invading.  “Two orgasms means we’re coming back here afterward and finalizing a plan to deal with your fucking husband once and for all.”

His fingers hooked sharply, and Charlie ground her pubic bone into his groin with a lusty, hissing sigh.  Her thumbs scraped mindlessly over the dark disks of his nipples, which were puckered enough for her to pinch, and his sharp hiss was sexy enough that she didn’t care what they did after this.  It felt like old times with the two of them battling for power over the other, and she liked the unexpected nostalgia of it.

“Tell me you want me,” she demanded, with her insides curling as readily as the corners of his mouth.  Charlie wasn’t the only one who remembered what it used to be like. 

“I want you, Chiara.  Since the first fucking time I laid eyes on you.”

No.  No more tears. She blinked rapidly, refusing their escape down her cheeks. 

This wasn’t making love.  They were having sex.  She was supposed to be feeling his fingers work their dark magic in the equally dark space of her womb. 

She was not supposed to be thinking.

“Then make me come,” came her churlish decree while rolling into his touch.  Driving him deeper.  Craving more than his fingertips.  “And come with me.  Scorch everything away until there’s just us.”

“Oh, beautiful girl, don’t you know?”  Jon’s fingers retreated to make room for something more substantial, and he held Charlie’s hips to grunt softly as he filled her.  “It’s already just us.”

The soft grunt was from her this time, but she didn’t look away from the steaming pools of blue that held her hostage in a way she yearned to be captive.  He could recite the phone book with that look in his eyes and she’d sit right here until he got to the final entry.

“You and me, Counselor.”

The water rolled in waves along with them, sloshing lightly over the side of the tub. 

“Night or day.”

His strokes were short and deep, with just enough friction to start the nerves tingling between her legs. 

“Together or apart.”

The splash of water around her was wildly erotic.  The sound.  The feel. 

“There’s nobody else,” he whispered into her mouth before taking it under the same siege as the rest of body.  

His kiss was fierce.  Her sigh was ragged.  His touch was aggressive.  Her shiver was forceful.  He possession was powerful.  Her submission was complete.

They were yin and yang swirling through the suds, alone and isolated from everything and everyone until they stood on the highest plateau.  Together they plunged, hand in hand, until they hit rock bottom.  Their pieces shattered, one indistinguishable from the next as they patched them back together.  It was a shard of her, a sliver of him until they were one another as much as themselves.