150: Anyplace You Want

Jon took a second, longer look at the photo of him and the counselor on the front page of her album, feeling pretty damn good about… life.  This was one of his better Christmases and he was feeling optimistic that it would continue on that path during the next hour.  Anything else was unacceptable.

“Lilah said your hand was empty and told me to fix it.” 

With a grateful smile, he accepted the glass of red pushed into his grasp and let the album cover fall closed.  “Did you know about this?”

“The book?  Where do you think most of the fuckin’ pictures came from?”  Tony scoffed.  “Matt sure as hell didn’t take ‘em.”

The photography bug definitely hadn’t bitten their youngest brother, and it didn’t surprise him that Matt wasn’t solely responsible for putting together the counselor’s gift.  In fact, Jon speculated that there was a southern mastermind who may have coordinated the whole thing.   

“This is Lilah’s doing, isn’t it?”

“What can I say?  My wife likes for everybody to be happy.”  One meaty hand tapped Jon’s shoulder sharply.  “Except now that she thinks she wants to fight with me as some kinda screwed up foreplay.  Thanks for that, you friggin’ deviant.”

Jon grinned around the rim of the wineglass as the merlot made a warm path down to his belly  “It’s a helluva rush, man.  Try it sometime.”

“Maybe I already have.”

His eyes connected with Tony’s and they both laughed like perverted schoolboys as somebody started tapping a glass. 

“Oh God.  It’s obvious you two are up to no good,” the counselor observed with a smirk when joining them.  Rather than sitting back down with him, though, she stood beside Tony and slid an envelope back and forth through her fingers.  “And that dirty giggling tells me I don’t even wanna know.”

“You’re definitely the brains of this outfit.”  Tony draped an easy arm over her shoulders as Dominick gave up on the glass tapping and whistled with two fingers.  The shrillness was far more effective in getting the attention of this crowd. 

“I’d like to make a toast, if you can give me ten seconds of your time.  I know that’s a stretch for some of my siblings…” 

There was bantering among the Del Vecchio brothers, but the counselor didn’t get involved.  She was content to let the brothers argue among themselves as the red envelope slid back and forth through restless fingertips. 

“Boys!”  That was the first time Jon ever heard Julia Del Vecchio raise her voice, but her sons evidently knew the tone that fueled that single word.  They got their shit together in a hurry so that Dom could continue his toast. 

“To Jon, for once again opening his home to us, and to my sister, who prepared a wonderful meal.  Honest to God, I never thought it would happen, but you did Charlie.  I’m proud of you.  Salùd!”

There were multiple voices echoing the sentiment, and Jon tipped his glass in her direction.  “You did good.”

“Thank you.”  While her eyes may have been directed at him, her next words were spoken loudly enough to be heard by everyone in attendance.  “And while I have your attention, there's a little something of my own that I’d like to share.”

“You’re never cooking again?”

Luke was the wise-ass this time around, drawing the counselor’s rueful smile.  “That might be true, but it’s not what I was going to say.  You all know the circumstances under which Jon and I met.  I was divorce counsel to Dorothea in a settlement that should’ve been so much easier than it was.  Would’ve been easier, if I hadn’t been so determined to take some kind of misguided revenge on a man who’d done nothing wrong.”

This was old, forgotten news and the fact that she was bringing it up now had his arm hair standing on end.  “Chiara –“

She cut him off without a glance.  “I know some of you – my brothers, in particular – may find it hard to believe, but I felt incredibly guilty about it after meeting his family and spending time in a house that was one of the sore points of that divorce.  I… caused him a great expense that he wouldn’t have incurred without my insistence, and I promised myself that I’d make it up to him somehow.”

“And I told you there was nothing to make up,” he interrupted firmly.  “It all worked out for the best and is water under the bridge.”

“That’s because you’re generous to a fault.”  The red envelope made another pass through her fingers before she held it out to him.  “But this should settle things on that house.”

There was an stirring of unease in Jon’s stomach when he peered into the eyes of the woman he loved as she silently encouraged him to accept the envelope.  She was so insistent upon settling this imaginary score that he was afraid to find out how she'd chosen to do it. 

With everyone looking on as she shook the envelope at him, though…  He had no choice but to take it.  

Wedging one finger under the flap until the seal popped, he eased out a Christmas card that bore the sassy depiction of Tinkerbell sitting on a gift.  The front of it read, “This Christmas, I thought of you and asked Tink to help me say ‘Wishing all your dreams come true… in each and every way.’”

There was nothing in this card that could make his dreams come true.  It was going to take a foul-mouthed Brooklyn beauty to do that, but it would be futile to make that point now.  She wasn’t going to let him get away with not opening the damn thing, so he sucked it up and did what was expected.   

The sentiment on the inside was Chiara’s handwritten message of, “I love you”.  Beyond that, there was nothing but a piece of paper folded in half, and unfolding the paper made it quickly identifiable as a check.

A very large check with a lot of zeroes attached.

Maybe it was because he’d been on edge for almost a month.  Maybe it was because he felt like she was stealing his thunder.  He didn’t know what it was, but something caused him to go into asshole mode and growl, “Four million dollars?  Is this a joke?”

In the periphery, Jon heard a feminine squeak of surprise that probably came from Lilah.  Identifying which man – or young man – issued the low whistle would be impossible, though.  It could’ve been any of a literal dozen and it wasn’t worth his while to figure it out.

“No.  It’s not a joke,” she countered softly.  “This was the last part of Millie’s message that day.  She knew how the house was weighing on my conscience and wanted to help me make things right.”

Millie. 

Millie had given her four fucking million dollars to pass along so that he counselor’s conscience would be clear. 

Do not go off the rails.  It’s Christmas Day.  The day you've been waiting for, and the entire damn family is here.  You can fight about it later.

Scratch that.  There would be no fight.  He tore the cashier’s check neatly in half and then in half again, searching for the motherfucking Zen that had eluded him his entire adult life. 

“Sorry you both wasted the time,” Jon told her as reasonably he knew how.  “But I never wanted or needed you to right anything.  You’re the one who needed to do this.  I forgave this imaginary debt long ago.”

The woman who looked down at him wasn’t teeming with the insult and indignation that Jon would’ve anticipated.  Her head tipped to one side to regard him with thoughtfulness.

“That’s what Millie said.  She also told me you’d tear it up, if you can believe that, but I thought if I gave it to you as a Christmas gift, that maybe…”

“Oh, God.  They’re going to fight.”

Without shifting their visual focus away from one another, Jon and Charlie simultaneously ordered, “Shut up, Luke.”

The rest of the family laughed, leaving Charlie to inspect the dark flecks that made Jon’s irises appear a more subdued shade of blue and to speculate whether he was truly angry or just good and irritated.  Going into this, she’d known that there was a fifty-fifty shot as to which way it would go, but she’d thought it would be more obvious once she got here.

When his nostrils flared with a huffy sigh, she decided it was borne of frustration rather than anger. 

“Chiara, the only damn gift I want is…”  He was doing such a good job censoring himself that, when he scanned the group of their children, nieces and nephews, she thought he was going to order them all out to save their young ears.  His intention turned out to be entirely different, though.  “Jake, there are two boxes in the floor under my desk.  Go get them for me, buddy.”

The thirteen-year-old immediately hopped up from the edge of the coffee table to do his father’s bidding, leaving the oddly silent room behind.  While they awaited his return, Jon cut an exasperated glare in her direction and spoke to the family members who were eerily subdued. 

“I had the same idea Chiara did about doing my gift giving in the midst of the people whose fingerprints are all over our relationship.  Dorothea was the obviously the first, and then Vivi used Chiara’s name trying to get into one of my fan club shows.  Luke was the one who introduced us, our boys unknowingly brought us back together, Lilah decided to play matchmaker and brought Tony, Matt and Des along for the ride, Dominick and Vince gave me insight to their sister that kept me from walking away…  It just goes on and on.  You’re all the reason that we’re together here today.”

She’d never thought of it in quite that way, but he was right.  Their families were responsible for bringing them together.  Not just one family member, but the entire crew of men, women and children that were scattered around this room.  It was just a little overwhelming to think that, without them, she might not have found her first real love.  That she might still be trapped in a marriage that she hated.

Charlie shivered as Jake returned with a shiny gold box in each hand.

After handing his empty wineglass off to Tony, Jon accepted them with a quiet, “Thank you, son.   Chiara, sit down here with me.”

Eyes that had been boiling with frustration just moments ago were veiled with gravity as Charlie reclaimed her former seat on the sofa.  Bending to put her photo album down by his feet, he took the smaller of the gold packages and placed it on top. 

Unwrapped and topped with a fluffy red bow, it was about the size of a recipe box.  Its mate, which remained in Jon’s left hand, was a shirt box equally adorned with nothing but the same red ribbon. 

Tucking his right leg under the left, he twisted on the sofa cushion to bring his knee onto the seat, and his action prompted Charlie to instinctively follow suit.  They now sat facing one another in the midst of their still abnormally quiet families. 

“They got us this far.  I wanted them to be here for the next step.”  Something about the gentle way he offered the explanation tied Charlie’s stomach into a bow more elaborate than the one on the gift he offered to her.  “The only thing I want for Christmas is for you to accept what I have for you.  Here.”

“There’s not a ring in here, is there?”

The words were blurted without conscious thought because, quite frankly, his seriousness in talking about that “next step” made her nervous.  All it took was seeing the frown lines dig deep into Jon’s cheeks and forehead to have Charlie kicking her own inconsiderate ass. She would give anything to take it back and not see his head shaking with… disappointment? 

“No ring.”

Not knowing how to fix the blunder that had the food in her stomach curdling, she didn't trust herself to do more than nod and accept the gift. Not wanting to open her mouth for fear of sticking a foot back in it, she silently rested the package atop her bent knee in the same way he rested a loose fist on his. 

“All this drama and suspense and there’s no ring?  Are you freaking kidding me?” 

Izzie’s indignant sarcasm broke then tension and drove away a good portion of Charlie's anxiety.  She glanced back up at Jon, expecting him to meet her lopsided grin with one of his own, but his expression hadn’t changed. 

He was still way too serious when prompting, “Open it.”

Not knowing what else she could possibly do, Charlie pried off the lid, tucking it between her leg and the back of the sofa before parting the tissue to find…

Legal documents.  A stack of them that were individually backed in stiff, colored paper and stapled at the top like contracts.

In fact… 

Lifting the first one, she skimmed it and found that it was a real estate contract.  “You’re selling your apartment?”

“Girl, you’re the only one in the country who didn’t know that.  It’s been all over the internet,” Lilah interjected with a snort, handing Lucas back his plastic horse and trailer.  “Mr. Confidentiality dropped the ball on that one.”

“Shut it, Kentucky.”  He didn’t spare a turn of the head for his sister-in-law before addressing Charlie with a concise, “Yeah, I’m selling.  We don’t need it.”

Since nobody had darkened the doorstep of the place in over a month, she thought he was probably right but didn’t comment.   The real estate contract was set aside to pick up the next document, which was the deed to the house they were sitting in and she saw that a trust was listed as the deed holder.  

“That’s my kids’ trust.  The property here technically belongs to them as their future inheritance, but I get full run of the place in the meantime.”

Okay…?  She wasn’t quite sure why that mattered to her, but it was perfectly logical and not all that unexpected.  That document was also put aside to reveal that next up was the deed to the house in East Hampton.  Jon's name was listed as the holder of this one, and right under it was... hers. 

He'd made her co-owner of the house for which he just refused payment.

“What?  You won’t take my – Millie’s – money to pay for half of this house so that you can give it to me?”

“That’s right.”  His quiet confidence aggravated her and had her thumping the heel of one hand into his knee.   Rather than the retaliation she expected, though, what Charlie got was a slow, “I looked into your eyes one night and saw something so unexpected that it took my breath away - innocence and vulnerability.   I don’t know how you managed to preserve it for all these years, but there it was.  And you were handing it to me with the trust that I’d keep it safe and protect it as diligently as you had.  I was humbled and, quite honestly, a little embarrassed.  It was a wake-up call that made me realize that I should be giving more instead of demanding more.  So I’m trying... if you’ll let me.” 

What was she supposed to say to that?  The truth was that she did want him to be more giving, but not with his real estate holdings.  The way he’d just presented himself with unguarded emotion and forthright honesty...  That's the kind of giving she'd been dreaming of. 

“I want you.  Not houses.”

Her unwavering declaration was immediately countered with, “And I want to share the place where I fell in love with you.”

Well, shit. 

“Oh, Lord, my heart just fluttered.”  Lilah tapped Izzie’s arm.  “Did yours flutter, too?”

“I thought I was having an arrhythmia, but now that you mention it, yeah.  That was definitely a flutter.”

Charlie’s laughter at the two women's silliness chased away the threatening mist of tears, and she arched a wry eyebrow at Jon.  “I can’t believe you thought it was a good idea to have them here for this.”

“Ignore them."  He tossed his chin toward the box that wasn't yet empty.  “There’s more.”

Ignoring the dramatic Lilah and her new sidekick was going to take an iron resolve, but she would try.  He deserved that, and he deserved something more - appreciation.  The work and emotion that had gone into this gift were overwhelming and it gave her a better understanding of his recent moodiness.    

“Thank you – for the house and the candor.”

“You can thank me in a few minutes.  Go on to the next one.”

He was poised like a cat stalking a mouse.  Tense, focused and watchful of her every move, Jon didn’t miss even the slightest twitch muscle when she stacked the deed on top of the other papers and withdrew the next document. 

Well, two documents, actually.  Clipped together, they both emerged at the same time, and Charlie saw that the top one was another real estate contract.

Unlike the first one in this gift, however, this one indicated Jon as the buyer instead of the seller – and had her name listed right under his.  Scanning the legalese for the property address, she found it and the red X that indicated a blank signature line.

“You’re buying the brownstone next door to mine?”

“You’re gonna love it, Charls!  That staircase is amazing.”

“We’re buying it,” he corrected over Luke’s endorsement, with the faintest shadow of a smile cutting through the somberness.  “They just accepted the offer yesterday, and you still need to sign, but yeah.  It’s next door to yours.  The next contract would make me co-owner on that one, too, if you agree.”

Flipping the page verified what he said, and she saw the second blank line awaiting her signature. 

“Luke looked at the place with me and thinks we can knock out a couple of walls to join the two brownstones.  That way it’ll be big enough for us and all the kids whenever they stay – and you still keep your house.  I thought it was a good compromise.”  

A home for us all in the place that I love. 

Charlie’s heart pounded in her chest, clogging her throat and stealing her ability to swallow.  Diamonds, furs, millions, vacations homes…  None of it could touch the fact that he really listened to her concerns and crafted a viable solution for their families.

Family.  Because, if they were going to co-own this much real estate, then they couldn't be two separate people anymore.  One unit.  One unified family.

“It’s perfect.”  

That’s all she could push through her thick throat, but Jon didn’t seem to mind.  His attention was again focused on the box and its remaining contents.

“Good.  There’s one more in there.”

“We do not need one more place to live,” she laughed, still choked up at the enormity of it all.  The damn man didn’t know how to do anything in half-measures.  He was an all or nothing personality, and sometimes it was hard to keep up.

“No more houses.”  He concurred easily but remained tense and alert, eyes pinned to her as their families started to murmur amongst themselves.  It was as though they knew there was something big coming, and Charlie found herself apprehensive about withdrawing the final document.   

It took his quiet coaxing to go ahead before she would put her hand in the box, and tissue paper crinkled as she extracted the crisp manila papers and read the header.

Petition for Divorce

Chiara Marie Bongiovi, plaintiff

v.

John Francis Bongiovi, Jr., defendant

With her pulse pounding in her ears almost as loudly as the heartbeat behind her sternum, Charlie managed to swallow the dinner that wanted to come back up.  She made herself breathe through the nausea long enough to read over the simple form in search of answers, but all it said was that the marriage would be dissolved in accordance with the couples’ prenup.

And Jon’s signature was at the bottom. 

“These are divorce papers,” she said dumbly, letting both her hand and the confusing document drop to her lap.

“Yeah.”

That was all.  A steady gaze and simple agreement. 

“We’re not married.”

“No.”  He didn’t break their visual connection when leaning over to grab the smaller version of the now-empty box.  Fiddling with the lid, he lifted it a fraction as though to open it but didn’t follow through.  “I know I’ve pushed you – bullied you – into one thing after another since we’ve been together, and you’ve given me so much.  I know that.  I appreciate that.  But I can’t stop myself from asking for you just one more thing.

Now fiddling fingers actually removed the box lid, and when he dipped his hand inside, it was to produce…

Charlie’s wasn’t the only gasp in the room.  Every adult female took that same sharp breath right along with her, and if she could tear her eyes away from what was resting in his palm, she’d probably find that at least half of them had a hand over their mouth – just like she did.

Cinderella’s glass slipper was beautiful on its own, simply because of the romantic story that accompanied it, but with the twinkling lights of the Christmas tree reflected in its surface…  It glowed ethereally, as though powered by pixie dust and every other magical concoction Disney had ever branded. 

It was almost as breathtaking as the diamond ring nestled inside it on a bed of Tinkerbell-green velvet. 

A princess-cut diamond ring whose smooth, wide band was modestly simple – for platinum – but the two-carat stone didn’t need an elaborate setting.  Anything more would’ve detracted from the brilliant perfection of the diamond and ruined the air of elegance. 

“Will you marry me, Chiara?"

“Oh, great merciful days, I’m gonna bawl like a baby.”

Lilah was going to have to take a number behind Charlie, who couldn’t decide if the tears pooling on her bottom lids were borne of love, happiness or fear.   Everything was never enough for Jon because he always wanted more.  That drive is what made him successful in everything he did, but this time…

“I get that you’re scared about finding yourself trapped in a relationship without the ability to get out.  Honest to God, I do, and I understand why. That’s what the divorce papers are for.  To make you feel safe.  I’ll never hold you against your will, and if there comes a day when you want out, then sign your name and walk away.”

Tears came in earnest, pushed out by a sob that she couldn’t contain. 

So what if he was driven to go after what he wanted?  This crudely sweet man had just handed over a silver platter that held her special-ordered world, complete with a beautiful red ribbon.

She owned half of a vacation home that she loved because of both its sentimental and architectural value.   She owned half of a brownstone that had been magnificently restored to her specifications, and now she was going to own half of another one that they would make just as magnificent.

“I got a smooth ring so that there weren’t any ‘paint magnets’.  You could wear it while you work, if you wanted.”

She had man who listened and did everything he could to solve her problems.  Most importantly, she had a man who was ready to let her walk away without notice just so he could have her. 

How did Charlie compete with his level of giving?  He said she'd already given him so much, and while it didn't seem like much in comparison, it was all she believed herself to have. What else could she possibly do to hold up her end of this relationship? 

You know what to do.  In your heart, you know.  

The thought terrified her, but yes.  She did.  Her heart had already made the commitment, and now it was time for her head to join in. 

Swallowing her pride and fear, Charlie compressed trembling lips to let tears flow unheeded as she tore the divorce papers neatly in half.  Turning them sideways, she tore again to create four even pieces that were all unceremoniously dumped in the empty box.

“I don’t need this to make me feel safe,” she informed him with an inelegant sniffle.  “I’ve got you.  Can we get married in East Hampton?”

Jon’s somberness washed away in the flood of cheers from around the room, replaced by a a spark of joy that lit those infamous blue eyes deep from the inside.  They were four shades lighter than they'd been moments ago, and Charlie got to seem them up close when he hooked the nape of her neck and hauled her in for a hard kiss.

“Anyplace you want, Counselor.  Any damn place you want.”