In fact, all of the food disappeared readily between
animated bouts of conversation from the four young men. Jesse, Jake, Romeo and Jesse’s friend Ali
took turns commandeering center stage, although sometimes they stepped on one
another in transition. Jake, in
particular, was always eager to jump in with something that would get a laugh,
and he had them in stitches with his outrageousness.
Jon didn’t laugh quite so heartily as the women, but
there was a proud sparkle in his eyes when sipping wine and observing the
younger generation. There was no
mistaking his love for those boys – Ali included – and the fact that he didn’t
bother concealing it was yet another endearing trait in the man’s favor.
From Delaney’s perspective, the only negative in the
whole evening was Jesse’s persistence in recruiting her attendance at tomorrow
night’s Montauk Surf Lodge event. Like his father, he didn’t like
taking no for an answer, but he did finally accept it along with the assurance
that she would pay a personal visit to the event florist tomorrow morning.
They would review the details one last time, and she’d look
over the arrangements herself. Petra and
Pearl would follow up with texted photos to ensure that the final setup met
with Delaney’s approval, and she promised Jesse that nothing would go wrong.
Delaney was almost sorry to see the meal come to an end,
but once the food was gone, Pearl spearheaded the dinner cleanup that took only
minutes with an army of willing kitchen hands.
The boys then changed out of their swimsuits and headed
out for the first Friday night party circuit of the season, armed with Jon’s
abbreviated list of parental instructions:
don’t leave the younger boys anywhere, don’t “raise too much hell” and
give Dad a courtesy text if they were going to be late.
He chose to stay at the house and play host, despite
Delaney and company’s assurance that they didn’t require supervision or
entertainment. It was such a treat to be out of the city and in a
beautiful place that they were content to get drunk on ocean air and Hampton
Water until they could no longer hold their eyes open.
Jon didn’t care about their assurances, though. In his own words, he didn’t “do any fucking
thing” he didn’t want to do, and that included going out and leaving “three
beautiful women” unattended at home.
The accompanying breeze carried both the unique scent and
texture of salt water. There was just enough chill in the air to act
as a reminder that summer had not yet arrived, but the crickets were already
tuning up for their recital season. Delicate chirps that were nearly
foreign to New York City produced a beachside soundtrack for talk, laughter and
relaxation while bottles of Hampton Water enabled it all to flow more freely.
More freely than Delaney would’ve liked.
“Laney, what’s it going to hurt to help the man pick out
some furniture?” her sister demanded from the cushioned wicker chair she was
curled up in. It sat perpendicular to one
end of the matching sofa that Delaney and Jon shared, while Pearl was in an
identical chair on the other end.
Everyone but Petra had bare feet propped up on the matching table that glowed with candlelight.
Jon reached across the empty cushion that separated him
from Delaney to give her thigh a meaningful nudge and encourage, “Listen to your
sister.”
It wasn’t the first time he’d initiated physical contact here
today, but it still felt new and… strange to Delaney in this setting.
Their relationship was one that had existed in closed
quarters up to this point and had never been paraded freely in front of others. Granted, Jon hadn’t gone so far as to kiss
her with an audience, but even his casual touches made her feel exposed.
That’s why she pointedly ignored the nudge and shot a
tepid glare his way while trying to feign normalcy. “That’s not what
you told me earlier. You said I should wear my own clothes instead
of Petra’s.”
“Yeah, but that’s different. Now she’s lobbying for something I want.”
“And I don’t care how many houses he owns or parties he’s
been to,” Petra pronounced with authority as her crossed leg swung freely. “He’s
still a man who wears jeans to ninety percent of all social functions. His
opinion on women’s attire is worthless, and you’re not embarrassing me with
your ripped jeans and crappy t-shirts.”
“Suck it up and get the broomstick out of your ass, would
you?” In her own ripped jeans and off-the-shoulder t-shirt, Pearl didn’t
care what anybody wore, but she was
invested in the furniture topic. “Seriously, Lanes. He’s a dude. Picking
out furniture is kidney stone painful for guys.
Help a homie out.”
“Homie has an
assistant who should be fully capable of hiring a decorator.” Cocking her head
slightly to one side, she cast a thoughtful frown his way. “Although I have yet to see evidence of this
assistant doing anything in the last week.”
“That’s because she’s on vacation.”
That was a new and game-changing perspective that he
could’ve mentioned the first time she’d asked about his assistant, and Delaney
didn’t bother bottling her sarcasm.
“I guess that explains why you seem to find me so
indispensable these last few days, and it also alters my opinion about the
watch. Since I’ve been temping as your assistant, the watch seems
like fair compensation, so thanks.”
Her attitude pissed Jon off a little. She’d
been standoffish ever since Pearl almost walked in on them kissing and had flinched
every time he touched her. Keeping their relationship from the media
was one thing, and he even understood toning it down in front of his kids, but
Petra and Pearl were a different story. Those two knew he’d
spent naked time with Delaney, and Delaney knew there was more than sex going
on here.
She’d better, anyway.
“Kathleen’s vacation doesn’t have a goddamn thing to do
with it, Mou,” he contended in a voice that was deadly soft. “And if
you don’t get that, it’s time to figure it the fuck out.”
The fading light made it difficult to decipher the hue of
eyes that were stuck to his, and her silence didn’t offer a clue as to whether
it was thunder or lightning lurking in the shadows. The woman caught
in the crosshairs of his unwavering stare wasn’t jumping to confirm anything,
but her peanut gallery didn’t hesitate to do their own share of jumping.
“Duude. That was a harsh-yet-endearing moment
perfectly suited for a Jersey romance movie. Better than your actual
movies, to be brutally honest. I’m jonesing for popcorn now.”
“Stop your yapping,” Petra impatiently dismissed Pearl’s
inane commentary and leaned toward the only man in the group. “What
did you just call my sister?”
He ignored them both. “Answer me, Delaney.”
She didn’t bite her lip uncertainly. She
didn’t swipe a nervous tongue out across that lip. Her response was
nothing less than Jon would’ve expected from the woman he’d dubbed a beautiful
fighter.
Her chin lifted, and the dark spots of her irises held steady
when she told him with soft confidence, “I get it. Friends and
lovers. But since we haven’t officially moved that to public domain yet,
I was playing it casual.”
“Your sister and Pearl are not ‘public’, so get over
here.” When she scooted from the other end of the sofa and wedged
under his outstretched arm, Jon dropped a kiss to her crown. “There’s
no need for ‘playing’ with them, and in the company of anyone else, it’s your
choice. The discretion was always about you. It doesn’t
make a shit to me who knows we’re together, so when you’re ready for the
attention that comes with being in my life, do your thing, Mou.”
“There.” Petra pointed an accusatory finger at
Jon. “There it is again. What did you call her?”
“Are you completely without romance in your soul,
Deathwish? They’re having a pivotal relationship moment, and all you
can come up with is ‘what did you call her’?
Besides that, you know the fucking answer already. We told you on the way out here.”
“I want to hear it from him.”
Disregarding Pearl’s unexpected bout of romanticism, Jon responded
to the woman staring at him with obvious expectation. “She’s ‘Mou’. Mine.”
“That still has all the feels. Every damn one.” Silky
black hair swayed as the most exotic of the three musketeers shook her head
with… envy? Surprise? Disbelief? It had to be
something along those lines, because Pearl tacked on, “I never thought I’d see
the day Laney was in love.”
“She’s not in love.”
Eyes that were a replica of Delaney’s slid to the vicinity of Jon’s
shoulder and regarded her twin. “Delaney doesn’t believe in love.”
Curious as he was about what prompted Petra’s adamant
statement, he simply lifted his wineglass with nonchalance. There
would be no discussion of love tonight from him. He’d already spoken
more openly with an audience than he usually did, so if these three didn’t
clarify now, Delaney could do it later. Privately.
“I know she wasn’t in love with Geoff, but who says she
doesn’t believe in love? Lanes, tell her she’s wrong.”
Jon should’ve known he could depend on Pearl’s mouthy
curiosity to move this in the right direction.
“She can say whatever the hell she pleases, but I’m not
wrong,” Petra assured with quiet authority, her crossed leg swinging gently as
she balanced wine on the wicker chair arm. “Delaney has higher
aspirations than mere love, don’t you sister dear?”
“Stop.”
The quiet protest of the woman tucked into his side was
overridden by the zealous curiosity of her friend. “Higher? What
the hell is higher than love? I mean, I’ve been married to the same
guy for twenty years. If there’s something else out there, I need to
know what I’m missing.”
That was Jon’s thought exactly, but recognizing that
Petra was on a mission, he suspected they wouldn’t have to wait. She
would supply answers to all the questions being raised – in her own time and
dramatic fashion.
“I think you know our parents are first- and
second-generation immigrants from two different countries – Ireland and Greece.”
“Petra, don’t. Nobody’s interested in this.”
Delaney’s plea was a weary one, because she also
recognized that a mission was underway. One of these days, Jon
planned to unearth the reason she allowed Petra to run roughshod over her, but
for now, Pearl’s impatient huff demanded center stage.
He curled his arm more firmly around the tense woman at
his side, silently urging her to relax.
“Uh, hello. Way interested. Rattle
on, Deathwish.”
Without sparing Pearl a glance, Delaney’s twin delved
into her tale with Jon as her primary audience.
“The Irish and Greek tempers are comparable, but it’s
still an uncommon pairing of cultures. Both sides of the family often
remarked on it during our childhoods, often over the shouting matches of our
parents.
“I can’t tell you how many times I heard aunts and uncles
speculating how long it would be before Fiona and Stelios would finally give up
and admit they had made a mistake in getting married. It always
bothered Delaney, so when were about…. What was it, Laney? Twelve?”
“Something like that,” the woman in Jon’s arms murmured,
withdrawing her hand from its resting place on his thigh so that she could
stand. “I don’t need to be here for this. I’m
going to fix some snacks.”
Common courtesy dictated that Jon should join her, but he
was too curious about where Petra was taking this. While she disappeared inside, he kept his
spot on the sofa and shifted onto one hip, drawing a leg under him to await the
continuation.
“We were helping fix dinner one evening when Delaney
asked Ma why she and Papa got married. My mother tends to exaggerate
things for effect, but I think she spoke only the truth that day when saying
that she knew Papa was the one almost as soon as they met.”
At least now Jon knew what prompted Petra’s flair for the
dramatic. He counted himself lucky that
Delaney hadn’t picked up that trait.
“Their second date was the real clincher. Ma’s eyes were full of stars when telling us
that Papa was on the verge of kissing her goodnight when he drew up short to
stare into her eyes. She thought something was wrong, like maybe her
makeup had smudged or something, but when she asked what he was looking at, Papa
said, ‘Your soul. I see it as plain as day, and it’s the most
beautiful thing I ever saw.’
Jon cleared his throat uncomfortably and looked out into
the yard, recalling the intensity he and Delaney shared a couple nights ago.
Nikos’s words could’ve been Jon’s own, if he’d only had
the balls to think them. They were a flawless description of what
happened in that hotel room the night she told him about her daughters, and now
they’d never leave him. The sentiment
was engraved on his mind for a lifetime.
Jesus Christ. I
write this kind of thing and put it to music to make a good song. This
shit isn’t supposed to really happen.
“Anyway, that won my mother’s heart forever. She decided then and there that Papa was her
soulmate, no matter what anyone else thought of a Paddy and a Dago together.” The
dimple in Petra’s left cheek made a rueful appearance, in one of the few
occasions that she could actually pass for her sister. “You
should’ve seen the hearts and stars in Delaney’s eyes in the kitchen that day. She
was so enamored with our family fairytale that love became just another
four-letter word to her. Our parents had something more, and she
wanted it. Swore she’d have it – and that her soulmate would be the
only man to call her his.”
“Daaamn,” Pearl sighed. “Your parents always
seem to be bickering at each other. I never suspected they had such
a romantic beginning.”
Petra leaned forward to place her empty wineglass on the
table and shrugged. “They like to keep each other on their toes, but
there’s no marriage any truer or stronger than my parents’.”
“And yet Laney married Geoff. Girl, that’s fucked up.”
“Right? I caught Delaney in the bathroom bawling like a
baby the day of her wedding. My sister did what she had to do for
her girls, and while she’d never admit it, she knew walking down that aisle
signified the end of her childhood dream to find a soulmate. It tickles me to death thinking she might
have to reconsider now.”
That last sentence hit Jon in the chest with a warm fist,
but he was determined that these women wouldn’t know it. He kept his features placid when asking, “Is
there a reason you’re looking at me?”
“You’re the one that calls her Mou,” Petra reminded casually. “What do you think?”
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