30 - Good Answer

Three days later, Delaney was still regretting her decision not to spend those extra few Montreal hours with Jon. 

His simply uttered words, “stay with me”, had triggered the end of her amnesia and set loose a barrage of mental images that filled in the missing week of her life – all in the space of ten seconds.  While that seemed like a good thing on the surface, the time and place wasn’t ideal for some of those memories, causing mental and physical chaos to ensue.    

The first was a Polaroid vision of the moment at Madison Square Garden after-party when he said, “Come with me”.  That remembered tone of voice and accompanying shiver kick-started a domino effect of other things.  Major things that sent her heart into overdrive, made her limbs quiver and set her insides on fire. 

Things like mental images of him in her bed.  That XXX highlight reel was so sexually explicit and felt so authentic – even then – that she’d been compelled to make herself look stupid by asking him again whether they’d ever been alone together. 

His affirmation was the only thing that allowed her to label the overpowering images as dreams.   

It was the only proof that his weight hadn’t pinned her to a mattress while he breathed in her ear, “Come with me.”

It was the only verification that he hadn’t looked up from between her legs, his words hot against her flesh when ordering, “Come for me.”

It was the only reprieve from the crushing burden of believing she’d slept with a married man – that she’d screwed over an unreasonably kind woman by screwing her husband. 

Now, if only it allowed her to sleep at night.

Since returning home, Delaney was experiencing the same kind of restlessness than had come after her Cinderella trip to the Madison Square Garden ball and led to the stupid amnesia-causing accident.

She was haunted by dreams that wouldn’t allow her to sleep, only these were more graphic than the ones from last week.  Spending one-on-one time with him and kissing him didn’t just fan the flames of her subconscious, they doused them in kerosene, and she’d woken to at least one Jon inspired orgasm as a result.  Rather than providing any kind of relief, it nagged at her conscience because she was pretty sure he’d been wearing his wedding ring.

That erotica-induced insomnia was productive on one level.  When the dreams kept her awake, she worked on new pottery projects – she’d even made Jon a coffee mug, for freep’s sake –  but there were only so many pieces she could produce before her hands started cramping. 

Spending yesterday with her parents had provided a great distraction, but she’d still ended up home alone afterward.  Then the nighttime hours had rolled around with taunting fantasies and stupid middle-of-the-night TV infomercials.

The only good thing was that, when morning dawned, it was Monday and she had actual things to do.  Real, legitimate things to focus her attention on instead of fantasy. 

There was the follow-up appointment with the doctor, that Petra adamantly insisted upon joining her for.  Her sister declared that she wouldn’t be satisfied until she heard for herself that Delaney was fully recovered, and it had been easier to let her come along than argue about it.

After they had lunch, Delaney had come to the shop filled with eager anticipation.  She’d been looking forward to the preoccupation of work, but here she was hiding in the back room and feeling much as she had on the fateful day she'd delivered Dorothea Bongiovi’s flowers.  The only difference between then and now was a purpose.  On that day, she’d been accomplishing something through her irritable melancholy.

Today everything was already accomplished, thanks to the new designer, Ireland.  Shelves were organized, the cooler was filled with fresh stock, and the arrangements out front were bright and fresh.  There weren’t even the usual clippings on the backroom floor.  The twenty-something girl was a hard worker with a good eye, and Delaney should’ve been thrilled.  

She was on some level, but it didn’t stop her from wishing for something productive to do.  Anything to keep her from dwelling on the memories that had returned in their entirety to co-mingle with the new ones and drive her crazy.  They ran together, one after the other, taunting her with the man she intensely desired but couldn’t have. 

“I’ve gotta get out of here,” she muttered to herself.  If nothing else, she’d go to the gym.  She hadn't tackled the rock wall for a couple of weeks, and it required both physical effort and mental concentration.  

Her fingers had just curled around the phone that she was getting better about remembering when Petra’s face and ringtone overtook it.  She almost ignored the call since they’d just spent the morning together.  Then, with a sigh, she conceded it was easier to answer it than to dodge the second and third calls that would inevitably follow if she didn’t take this one.

“Hey.  What’s up?”

“Jesus Christ, Delaney, have you seen the news?”

Petra tended to get a little wound up over late-breaking events, since she knew many of the featured players.  Delaney didn’t get quite as wound up over the happenings in New York. 

“No, I’m at work.  Which politician’s mistress came forward this time?”

“Oh, Laney.  Nobody’s mistress could top this news.”

She counted it a blessing that at least her sister sounded happy about whatever it was, but could they get on with it already?

“Well?  What is it?”

Cue the pause for dramatic effect….

“Dorothea Bongiovi just filed for divorce.”

Okay, so maybe the pause wasn’t necessary.

{{{

The awning to Delaney’s shop was just the same as Jon remembered, but this time he consciously took note of the name.  Dandelion Dreams.  It was cute, but he had other cute things on his mind – like the owner.

TMZ had the story, and the Post was already running it.  He was pretty sure it would be on ET and whatever other fucking gossip shows aired in the evenings.  Everyone who cared to know would know by the end of the day, because it was official – Jon Bon Jovi was getting divorced.

For him, it became official last night. 

The kids had known for months what was coming.  Jon and Dorothea respected their grown and nearly-grown children enough to share the news shortly after making their decision to split, and it wasn’t like the kids couldn’t guess.  They knew something was going to hit the fan when Dad’s fuck-up came knocking on the door during Christmas dinner.

As a result, everyone had already worked through all the anger, accusations, questions, hurt and other assorted emotions that went along with the changing of family dynamic.  They’d all gathered around the table yesterday for their last dinner as a traditional family, and it was bittersweet but pleasant.

Afterward, he was helping Dorothea with the dishes and found himself thinking about Delaney, which led to thinking about lies.  Thoughts of lies led to those of honesty and compelled Jon to tell his future ex that he planned to start seeing Delaney.

That legitimately qualified him as a dumbass, in Dorothea’s words.  She was less than impressed with his tact but applauded his “finally fucking getting it”.  She wished him well, and with the next breath, suggested that he didn’t have to wait until the next day to leave. 

That’s how Jon came to spend his last pre-divorce night at The Four Seasons, making plans for his post-divorce life.  During that planning phase, and at the shallow end of a bottle of Hampton Water – pink juice – he came to the conclusion that telling Delaney should be a face-to-face thing instead of a phone call.   Sharing the same physical space gave him more control, and he needed all the control he could get when it came to Delaney.

Mou.

She would be his, and today she would know it.

The shop bells chimed to announce his arrival and a cheerful voice called out, “Be with you in just a second.”

It only took a glance to confirm that neither of the two women at the counter was Delaney.  One was average height with short, blonde hair.  The other was a taller, platinum blonde whose prominent cheekbones and vivid blue eyes hinted at Scandinavian ancestry.

He approached them, planning to use the power of the press smile if necessary, but the double-take he got from the shorter one suggested that he may not need to. 

“I’m here to see Delaney.”

“Well, I sure as hell didn’t think you were here for me,” she drawled and hitched her head to one side.  “She’s in the back.  Tell her Katya and I have got it covered if she wants to leave.  I’m Marilee, by the way.”

He stuck out his hand to shake and presented a real smile.  “I recognize the name.  Nice to meet you.”

“And I’m Katya.”  He briefly clasped the slender fingers extended to him. 

Katya was sizing him up like a piece of meat, and he murmured something polite before confirming with Marilee, “Okay if I go back?”

“By all means.  She’s been Gloomy Gus ever since she came in from her doctor’s appointment.  Maybe you can cheer her up.”

Jon didn’t like the sound of that, but he nodded and thanked her before moving toward the doorway.  Using one hand to split the bright yellow curtain, he stepped through, and his foot scuffled on the floor.  It was loud enough to catch Delaney’s attention, because she saw him at the same moment he saw her. 

“I’ve got to go, Pet,” she said into the phone.  “He just walked in.  Yeah, I’ll call.  Bye.”

She was tired, he thought as the phone slid from her palm to the stainless-steel table.  Her hair was neatly contained in a braid, but the dusky shadows under her eyes hadn’t been there a couple days ago.  Maybe it was his imagination, but she also seemed paler than usual when flattening her mouth to silently eyeball him.

"Hi."  It wasn't exactly witty repartee, but a guy had to start someplace.  

"Hi."

The air in the small room was heavy, and when the refrigeration unit in the cooler kicked on, it seemed loud.  Its persistent, high-pitched hum was also annoying, and he tried like hell to tune it out.  

“Can we talk?”

Her braid shifted when she nodded.  It slid back over her shoulder to settle along her spine, but Delaney didn't move the ringed fingers that were folded together on the table.  Her features were impassive, making it difficult for him to get a read on what she might be thinking, and the ambiguity had him growing uneasy.  

He hadn't been uneasy coming into this.  Hell, he'd been excited to get here and start shifting the dynamic between them, but suddenly he wasn't feeling quite so confident about the end result.  Lack of confidence had never stopped him from going after what he wanted, though, and it sure as hell wasn't going to stop him now.  

Jamming his hands in his jean pockets, he jerked his chin lightly to the phone. “Sounded like you and Petra were talking about me when I came in."

Another silent nod that didn't inflect any expression.  No dimples, no frown lines.  Nothing but an air of quiet expectation. 

"Did it involve the recent appearance of my name in the news?"  

She nodded again, still not giving him anything.    

“Look, I came….  Well, not to apologize but to say I’m sorry I couldn't tell you myself.  I wanted to.”

At least now she moved her primly folded hands to prop both forearms on the table and lean against them.  There were visible thoughts now, although he couldn't quite tell what they were until she spoke.

"So, you knew it was coming."

"Yeah.  I've known for a while.  She just agreed to wait until after the tour."

He wasn't good at standing still under normal circumstances, and Jon pulled the sunglasses from his neckline to fidget with them.  Thinking was easier when he had something to do with his hands.  

“Then I guess you don't want my condolences.”

There was a glimmer that accompanied those dry words, and it found its way to the faint indentation of her cheek.  She wasn't an unknown quantity anymore.  She was the girl he'd come here in search of.  She was the girl who loved his fucking maracas, drinking wine and good music.

She was Delaney.

“No, baby, that’s not what I want from you.”

Even though their eyes were connected by an invisible force that wouldn't let him look away, Jon didn’t miss the warming cheeks or breath that was held for a heartbeat before she released it.  Delaney was starting to put the pieces together.  Given enough time, she'd likely assemble them the way they were meant to be, but he was going to ensure that she got them right on the first try.

“What I want is to get a little drunk with you again, Delaney Gardener," he told her with growing confidence, tossing his sunglasses down next to her phone.  "But this time I won’t stop with an innocent kiss.  There’s no stopping until you’re screaming whatever Greek obscenities feel as good to you as you’ll feel under me."

The ragged breath she sucked when jolting into a fully upright position pleased him.  Jon's cheeks creased in a smile that would've befitted Lucifer himself, it was so devilish.  

"That surprise you?  That I know how good you're gonna feel under me?  I’ve been thinking about it a lot."

"How could it not surprise me?" Her raspy demand only intensified the rosiness of her cheeks.  "Until five minutes ago, I thought you had the happiest freeping marriage in existence."

"I understand that I've got a head start on you," he acquiesced gently while purposely avoiding the "M" word.  "You probably need a chance to get used to the idea, and that's cool.  I’m willing to wait.  Not long, but I’ll wait.”

She inhaled deeply, expanding her chest under the same purple blouse she wore the day they met.  Her hands clenched into fists on the tabletop as stormy gray eyes flicked to Jon’s, then to his mouth and back again.  

Delaney's thoughts were visibly running amok.  To where, he had no idea, but Jesus.  When her tongue darted out to slick across a plump lip, visions of erotica plums danced in his head, and he could almost taste her.  

She would be as spicy as her attitude, with a flavor that singed his tongue.  It was almost enough to make him salivate, and the longer she stood there without saying a word, the shorter his waiting period got. 

He was on the verge of demanding that she say something when she eased around the table toward him, quietly rasping, "I'm not as far behind as you think."  

Immediately after, her curves flattened against Jon’s chest and dainty hands tangled in his hair, tugging him forward until their mouths seared together.  Delaney’s gentle sigh left her open, and he took full advantage, sweeping in to taste a piece of her that he’d only dreamed of so far.

One palm cradled each side of her jaw as their tongues became intimately, passionately acquainted.  Her taste buds abraded provocatively against his as he stole her flavor and gorged himself on everything else that was offered.  Delaney suckled him with such sensuality that blood pooled painfully behind his button fly.

She was warm.  Hot.  Sweeter than he expected.  As passionate as he’d hoped.  The little Greek storm raged against him and he took it all, reveling in the precursor of what would eventually come and giving it back to her with interest. 

They kissed for seconds.  They kissed for hours.  They kissed for days.  Whatever the traditional time frame, it wasn't nearly enough, but he gave her reprieve once they were both breathless and panting.

Jon didn't release her face but skated both thumbs over the hiding dimples and brought his forehead to rest against hers.  If there had been any chance of changing his mind about wanting her, it was erased with that kiss.  

“So that’s what it’s like to have your tongue crammed down my throat?”

“Pretty much,” she confirmed softly without bothering to try and quench the thunder, lightning or anything else that tore through her thoughts.

“I like it."

Naked desire burned like a gray torch that she flaunted and practically dared him to take it away before butterfly lips tickled his again.  “It ain't half bad."

His head fell back, and laughter ricocheted off the ceiling and walls.  She was an impudent little thing, but damn if he could find it in him to dislike that.

"Have dinner with me," Jon cajoled, enjoying his newfound freedom with her too much to relinquish it yet.  "I'm living in a hotel for the next couple of days, but we could order room service.  Have a little wine and see how close you get to catching up."

Delaney was visibly trying to control her smile as she nodded. "I'd like that very much."

She wasn’t the only one who would like it, but for him to truly enjoy it, he needed to know something first.

“Did you go out with the paramedic?”

Her smile hitched into an uneven smirk as soft hands skated over his chest, and the little forget-me-not ring caught the light.  “I haven’t even called him yet.”

“Good fucking answer.”