“I wish you’d come with us instead of staying here alone.”
Delaney looked up into the handsome features of the man
on the guesthouse porch, marveling at his restraint in not voicing that thought
until now.
Jon had wanted to say it all day.
It was in the set of his jaw when he asked about her
visit to the local florist this morning. It was in the silent echo to
Petra and Pearl’s coercion to join them for the concert series and Hampton
Water kickoff tonight. It was in his unspoken agreement with Jesse
and Ali, who said she may as well come to the Surf Lodge since everyone else in
the house was.
He never came right out and asked her to go, and
technically, he wasn’t asking now. He was making a casual statement
and monitoring her response, which consisted of a regretful smile.
“You said this was up to me, and I’d like to give the
signatures on your divorce papers at least a week to dry. Dorothea
deserves that much before you start parading around with another woman.”
“Whatever you want.”
The words were issued by rote and without sincerity. It
wasn’t the choice he would make, but he harbored no animosity that she could
see. He accepted the sentence she
imposed, just not eagerly.
Delaney ran a hand between the open sides of his black
leather jacket, stroking the matching t-shirt and sternum that lay under it. “For
now, it’s what I want.”
The corners of his mouth pulled down as though he was
considering saying something further, but tousled silver locks shook at the
last minute. Whatever it was, he decided against it, and Jon bent to
swipe a kiss across her mouth.
It was their first since the one Pearl interrupted
yesterday.
After Petra’s stupid soulmate story, a tawdry tryst on
the beach had no longer appealed to Delaney. There would be more
time spent wondering what was going on in Jon’s mind than anything, so she’d
apologized and left him at the main house with a peck on the cheek.
Today, they hadn’t made a point of not touching
through coffee, lunch or pool time, but they also didn't enage in any public displays
of affection. From all outward appearances, they were friends.
That was what she wanted to stick with for the weekend.
His boys had accepted her presence in the role of
houseguest without difficulty, probably because they’d been programmed for
guests since birth. Still, she didn’t
want to rock the boat. Light and easy was the motto for this trip,
and she was enjoying it.
The company of young people was something Delaney had
gotten away from in the last few years, although not intentionally. She didn’t even spend much time with her
nephews and nieces. These boys, reminded her how much she missed the
unquenchable zeal of youth.
They made her laugh with the latest slang and simplistic
views of life, and when Pearl tried to speak their “language”, it was all
Delaney could do to keep from wetting her pants with hilarity. The
boys were so very polite, but they clearly wanted to mock the woman trying too
hard to be “lit”.
They also stirred a longing for her own kids, which Jon seemed
to sense. The moments when a pang of nostalgia or melancholy struck
were the moments he reached for her hand or settled one of his on her back or
shoulder. He was either incredibly intuitive or…
For her own good she left it at that.
“Meet you on the beach tonight?” Mr. Intuitive suggested,
pushing a hand into the front pocket of his jeans.
Pearl and Petra were already on their way to Montauk in
the Mercedes, but Jon and all four young men were awaiting the car service. She
had no idea whether they’d return as the same full group or if they’d do so in
staggered intervals. He probably didn’t
know either at this point, and since that would make a difference in rendezvous
timing, Delaney postponed the decision.
“Maybe. Text me when you leave the lodge.”
“Okay. There’s a key to the house in one of
your kitchen drawers. If you want a book, booze or whatever, help
yourself.” His forefinger came up to trace the line of her jaw. “Finding
you naked in my bed wouldn’t be unwelcome, since this weekend hasn’t turned out
like I thought it would. You’re putting me off for sex and want to
spend the evening alone. You gonna use
this as a chance to bolt back to the city?”
“Not at all,” she assured, turning a cheek into his
touch. “This has just been one of the few times I’ve deemed social
decorum important enough to follow.”
“I’m not sure whether to be impressed by your Petra-ness
or stricken at the loss of Mou.”
“Let me help you out,” she laughed, knowing that her
impetuosity hadn’t gone anywhere. “While you were making phone calls
this afternoon, I was a busybody and asked your kids how they felt about the
house in Jersey. Fair warning, Bongiovi... they love it. Talk
to them before you sell.”
His swear was soft but lethal before sighing, “Thank you,
I guess.”
“Dad!”
Jon’s head swung around, immediately followed by a raised
hand of acknowledgement. The car service had arrived. “I
gotta go, Mou. See you later.”
“Later, alligator,” she murmured when he lifted one
widespread hand
It was going to be a long evening alone on the Hampton
estate, but Delaney didn’t mind. She had plans of walking the beach,
sipping wine, listening to music and maybe reading a book. The
built-in shelves of Jon’s house were packed with a multitude of choices, she’d
discovered yesterday, and it had been a long time since she slowed down long
enough to enjoy a good story.
She was trying to decide what to indulge in first when Marilee’s
text came through.
[6:31 PM]MARILEE:
You gonna call this Hugo guy or do I need a restraining order? He
came by again today.
It had only been a week since he first visited the shop
and left his number, and she’d lost count of how many times he had followed up
since. This man’s persistence was
starting to feed her uneasiness about him.
The smart thing would be to call him and get it over with so she could
stop being a drama llama.
[6:32 PM]DELANEY: I’ll
call him.
Just not tonight. Tonight, it’s booze,
beach and me.
Much, much later, she was pleasantly exhausted after an
evening spent strolling along the shore. Her only companion was for
the trip from Main to Georgica and back again was oversized travel cup filled to
the brim with wine. That and the surf licking
at her toes as she picked up seashells along the way and tossed them back into
the ocean.
Solitude had never been her thing, but it was refreshing
to have the ocean breeze lifting her hair while she took a rare moment to
ponder the complexities of her life. More specifically, to ponder
the man who’d become a woven part of those complexities.
Jon Bon Jovi had come into and changed her world so
suddenly that the whole thing still felt surreal. That day in Madison Square Garden when he
came after her to ask what would make him worth the trouble seemed like a cute
but inconsequential story that someone would tell their friends.
In Delaney’s case, that moment was inconsequentially
pivotal. It was the first of several
very quick steps that brought them to a level of intimacy having little to do
with sex. She’d been around enough to
know what they’d stumbled into wasn’t normal.
She’d dated in the last five years. Extensively,
as a matter of fact. It was the first real chance she’d had to do so
since college since the twenty years between then and Violet’s funeral were
consumed with motherhood and wifedom.
When all of that was taken from her, she sought – and found
– diversion in establishing her business.
Her daylight and evening hours were filled with advertising, ordering,
invoicing and all the other mundane tasks, but flowers weren’t successful at
occupying her nights.
Those nights were downright lonely and led Delaney to
seek men who could fill them. Men who cared about nothing other than
what she’d expected from Jon – sex.
Jon was different than she anticipated, though. He
insisted they were friends, which validated the same crazy feeling Delaney had. She
liked being with him – going to the gym, listening to him on the phone with his
kids, cooking dinner, talking and even sleeping. The fact that he
understood her on a level that even a husband of ten years hadn’t managed to
find was bizarre, and if she was being honest, a little frightening.
He knew things she didn’t tell him. Sheer
instinct guided him to places no man had ever been or tried to go. Jon
went there with confidence, never needing to be told when to push her and when
to let her push without being told.
When Petra started the ridiculous soulmate story last
night, fear had slammed high in Delaney’s throat. She’d once
considered that to be a defining moment in her life but hadn’t thought of
it since her wedding day, when Petra found her sobbing in that church bathroom.
Sobbing because she was trading her chance at a soulmate
for her girls’ security – and now they were gone.
She had no regrets in making that exchange. Once
the tears were shed, Delaney walked down the aisle and dismissed the whole
childish notion of a soulmate from her mind. She focused on the man
who would provide security and a positive role model for her children,
convincing herself that respect was more important than either love or a
soulmate.
In the aftermath of her marriage, it had never emerged as
even a passing thought. Certainly not when she was bed-hopping her
way through the loneliness.
Last night, though…. Hearing that tale from
her adolescence rocketed it into the forefront of her mind.
Hearing it while cuddled up next to the enigma who’d
invaded her life scared the sheep dip out of her, as Petra had known it would. Her
calculating twin wouldn’t have brought it up without a reason, and although
Delaney refused to dignify the subterfuge by asking what the reason was, it was
obvious. Petra was trying to plant a seed and pair her pitiful
sister up with a rich rock star.
Neither Jon nor Delaney had spoken of it since, meaning
that the seed was lying dormant, exactly as it should be.
Except in Delaney’s fertile mind, where she tried to make
sense of their relationship. She sought to find an explanation for
the inexplicable bond that had developed between them – preferably one that didn’t
involve soulmates. The stroll along the beach provided time to
explore plenty of options and convince her that an explanation wasn’t necessary.
The only thing necessary was that she acknowledge and
appreciate it, which she did.
Now that the sun and wine were gone, leaving behind a
rosy glow in the sky and her midsection, Delaney was ready for a mindless soak
in a hot bath. She had plans to commandeer the guesthouse’s master
bath while Petra was out, and a selection from Jon’s bookshelves would be the
perfect companion to her soak.
Slipping the key from her – Petra’s – linen capri pocket
and into the lock had the ageless door swinging inward without any hint of a
squeak, and it closed just as quietly behind her.
The house was silent, but not uncomfortably so. Her
imagination said that it was merely resting, waiting for the Bongiovis to
return and breathe life into it again. Fingerprints of that life
lined the long hallway to the study, in the form of family photos that Delaney
had briefly noticed when passing through earlier today.
Now, though, with deep thoughts of family still clinging
to the periphery of her mind, she slowed to study them.
There was one of Dorothea and Jon with all four children,
taken on what she recognized as the side porch to this house. Using
Jon’s shaggy mane of blonde hair as a guideline, she dated the photo as six to
eight years old. Everyone was smiling brightly but Jake, who had
more of a smirk.
Having gotten to know his sense of humor and how it never
stopped, she wouldn’t be surprised if he’d just pulled some kind of gag on the
photographer. Jesse wore a proud grin with his arm around Jake’s
shoulders, so maybe he’d even had a hand in the joke. Romeo was
giggling at Dorothea’s hand and Stephanie looked like any teenage girl in front
of a camera – eager to pose.
Delaney’s girls had always been ready for a photo. They
had practiced smiles and poses in the mirror often enough to produce them
without conscious thought. Unfortunately, all that practice meant
there weren’t many pictures with genuine smiles. The only one that
came to mind was from their high school graduation, and it sat on the dresser
as her favorite while the rest were stored in albums and on memory cards.
Having seen photos and video of Jon’s daughter at the
Rock and Roll Hall of Fame ceremony last month, she knew the girl bore little cosmetic
resemblance to the All-American blonde smiling down from the wall. There
had been talk about her dark makeup, piercings and hair shaved on one side, but
Stephanie seemed genuinely confident and happy.
That was Delaney’s perception, anyway, and she had studied her more
closely than most would, considering the coincident similarities to her own
girls.
How different did Poppy – Zoi – look now than she had
during Delaney’s final visit to Chicago four years ago? Was she
still wearing her dark, wavy hair short? Was it still the same
color, or had she infused it with red to look more like Violet, as she so often
threatened?
Friends and strangers alike frequently commented that the
girls barely looked like sisters, much less twins, and it always annoyed
them. A box of hair color wouldn’t solve
the six-inch differences in their heights, but it would’ve enhanced their
resemblance.
Whatever the hairstyle, her daughter would still be
beautiful. She had the kind of heart that lit her eyes when finding
a stray kitten. Her generosity and care for others knew no bounds. That’s
why she’d studied psychology in college and had determinedly followed her
sister to a party she didn’t want to go to – only to watch her die.
The soft click of the front door latch intruded upon
Delaney’s morbid thoughts, and she snapped her head toward it with surprise. As
with her entrance, it had offered no sound when welcoming home one of its own.
“I didn’t realize anybody would be here,” the young woman
apologized with a smile, dropping her carryall to step forward with both an
extended hand and her father’s smile. “I’m Stephanie.”
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