Ch 68 ~ The More Things Change

The tension and irritability that Rachel been harboring for the last twelve days simply melted away in his arms.  The heavy, familiar weight of them cradling her body close was… idyllic.  She’d walked away once, fearing that she’d never be here again and she would be damned if she was going to risk it again.

“I missed you,” she whispered into his shoulder.  “And I’m sorry.”

The strong sinewy ropes of flesh eased their grip so that he could draw back and peer into her eyes.  “I’m sorry, too – sorry that we let this shit go on as long as it did.”

Her ponytail bounced as she nodded and lifted her hands to frame his face, marveling that the vacation stubble he was sporting scraped her palms in a way that was both uncomfortable and reassuring.  He was here, live and in the flesh – and she was grateful.

“Something about the distance between us just made me…  I don’t know.  Revert to bitchy and argumentative Rachel, when it would’ve been easier to deal with this and let it go.”

Leaning in, Jon tickled the corner of her mouth with a butterfly kiss.  “I’m as guilty as you are.  We both went old school on this one.  Guess that means we’re still in relationship recovery, huh?”

“Yeah.”  Her eyes reconnected with his.  “We are going to recover from this, right?”

“You mean the setback or what happened when you left London?”

Rachel’s hands fell away from his face to rest upon his shoulders.  “You can’t really have one and not the other.”

“Good point.”  His chin dipped to his chest in a brief nod. Taking a step back, he laced his fingers through hers and bent to scoop up her bag with the other hand.   “Let’s find someplace to talk and we’ll figure that out.”

Verbal proof of his uncertainty caused a razor-sharp pain to pierce her sternum.    There was really a chance that this could be the end? 

No.  Hell no.  We’ve come too far to end it here.  Over…  this.

Now all she had to do was convince him of it. 

The summer trees rustled in a late afternoon breeze, much like Rachel’s hair swished in the open air of the convertible.  Both occupants were quiet as Rachel deliberated the most effective approach to resolving this situation in as short a time as possible, but the silent moments were few before he swung his classic vehicle into a large parking lot. 

“What’s this?” she asked.

“Meadowlands,” he succinctly informed her, pushing the gearshift into park and turning in his seat until he could look at her.  “I don’t want to be driving when we talk and I ain’t waitin’ an hour to get back to the house.”

“Agreed.”  She, too, turned in her seat, tucking her leg beneath her so that they could be face to face.  “I really am sorry.”

“I know that and I don’t want another apology.  One was enough.  All I want is for you to listen to me.”

Rachel nodded, tired of being bitchy and argumentative with him.  It fit their old life, but it didn’t fit them now and she hated that they’d reverted to their old ways.  Right now, she’d do whatever suited him, as long as she got a chance to say her piece, too.

“Quit your job.”

That was it?  That was what he’d been chomping at the bit to say?

“I think we’ve been through this,” she observed cautiously, hoping that there was a follow-up coming.  If not, this might not go any better than their past week.  “That’s not something I want to do.”

“Rachel, I don’t give a shit if you work.  It annoys the hell out of me that you refuse to be a kept woman, but that’s not what this is about.”

“So what is it about?”

“That cock-”  He took a deep breath, censoring himself, and shook his head once.  “James is manipulating you, Rach.  He has an authoritative position in your life and he’s using it to fuck around in our relationship.”

Rachel tipped her head to the side with a slight smile, kind of amused at this jealous side of him.  She never would’ve guessed him to be the overtly jealous type.  “Funny, I don’t remember any threesomes during our relationship.  Did you slip me a roofie?”

The dark scowl let her know that he didn’t share her point of view.  “I’m not kidding.”

Seriously?  Seriously.

“Look…”  She reached for his hand, still intent upon not allowing this to become unpleasant.  “It’s understandable that you might be a little jealous, given my history with James.”

“Your history doesn’t make me jealous, it makes you blind to his faults.  He’s playing you.  He came up with some bullshit before you left for Europe, using the work card to try and keep you in California, and when that didn’t work, he came after you with a bigger ‘crisis’.”

Rachel frowned.  “No.  Those were legitimate problems.”

“You’re telling me that nobody else in the friggin’ world could’ve cleaned up those problems but you?  I’m sorry, baby.  I know you’re good at what you do, but I call bullshit on that one.”

Jon was being silly.  James had no reason to manipulate her.  He was well aware that his position in her life didn’t involve anything more than work and friendship. 

“Honey, James knows that you and I are together.  He’s seen the ring.  Oh!”  She held up a single finger to interrupt that immediate train of thought.   “Speaking of which, I may have figured out why Richie told you James proposed to me.”

“Other than the words ‘marry me’ coming out of his mouth?” he sighed, clearly frustrated that she wasn’t having the come-to-Jesus moment he’d intended. 

Do not be a bitch.  Do not say “I guess everything Richie says is automatically gospel.”  Rather, don’t say it again.

Because she’d spewed that at him at least twice from the other side of the country.

Rachel smiled tightly.  She loved this man with every breath in her body.  She respected him.  She would make great effort to show him that.

“James didn’t propose to me, baby.  You did.”

“About a hundred times now.”

“Yes, but that’s not what I’m talking about.”  Shaking her head, she withdrew her hand from his and slid the ‘commitment’ ring free from her left hand and she angled it so that he could see the inside.  “The inscription, Jon.”

Rachel had replayed that day in the tearoom over and over in her mind, trying to figure out why Richie had come up with the madness that he’d relayed to Jon.  Finally – finally! – it had come to her on the trip out here.

“James’s grandfather was a jeweler, and James helped him in the shop during his teens.  He knows diamonds, and asked to see my ring.  That’s when he saw the inscription – and read it out loud, in English.”

Épouse Moi.

Because Jon had gotten tired of asking her to marry him, he’d had it inscribed in the ring – in French.  She knew he was aware of it, but was grateful to see a glimmer of understanding light those infamous blue eyes of his.  Grateful and relieved.

“Okay.”

She laughed lightly, innately knowing that was going to be about as good as it got.  He wasn’t going to swoon and gush with relief and love, yet she was still compelled to press for something a bit more… satisfying?

“That’s it?  Okay?”  She brushed light fingertips over his jawline and teased, “Surely you can come up with something more significant than that for my epiphany?”

His mouth twisted into a small, wry grin.  “I might not feel compelled to pop a cap in his ass the next time our paths cross.  Happy dear?”

Rachel threw back her head and laughed out loud.  “You’re pushing the Italian heritage there, aren’t you Don Corleone?”

“Don’t ask questions you don’t really wanna know the answers to,” he countered with a wink.  “And, while I’m glad that there’s an explanation for the proposal thing, it doesn’t change the fact that the sonofabitch is manipulating you.”

Rachel’s smile faded a bit, and she sighed.  How, exactly, was she supposed to convince Jon that he was mistaken?  That James wouldn’t do that to her, especially to ruin the happiness she’d finally found.  The two of them may not have found their future in a committed relationship, but they were still friends who cared about one another. 

“Jon, I’m trying to see your side of things, but I just don’t think I can make myself believe that.  James and I have been through too much together.”

“And he wants to make me one more thing the two of you go through so that he can make you his wife.  You’re gonna have to trust me on this.”

She trusted Jon.  She did.  That wasn’t the point here, though, and she gently tried to make that point once again.  “Don’t you think I might know him a little better than you do, honey?”

Now it was his turn to sigh, and Jon’s chin dipped to his chest as he did so.  He, quite obviously, was also attempting to keep things even-keeled.  When he lifted his chin, he also lifted his sunglasses so that she could see his eyes in the late afternoon sunshine, and they brimmed with seriousness. 

“Yeah, I’m sure you do, but familiarity allows people to overlook a lot of shit.  Your history doesn’t give you the same objectivity about him that I have, Rach.”  He reached down, slipping his fingers under her left hand, lifting it so that the sun’s rays played brilliantly against the stones.  “This ring says you’re mine.”

“I know that.”

“Good.  Then you should also know that I will fight the goddamn devil himself to protect what and who is mine – even if you don’t think you’re in danger.”

“Jon-“

“No, Rachel.”  His fingers tightened around hers and his gaze grew more intent, developing a laser-like focus.  “What’s mine is mine, and nobody’s going to damn-well fuck with it as long as I have a breath in my body.  Do you understand me?”

Okay.  She had to be honest.  This…. Overt possessiveness of his had her heart racing just a little bit.  And her skin tingling, and her… more intimate parts sizzling.  Maybe it wasn’t politically correct in today’s society, but when a man truly acted like a man and staked his claim in no uncertain caveman-ish terms.  Well, it stirred a very primal reaction in her.

“Yes,” she breathed quietly.

“Then help me out here, and be a little aware of what the fuck is going on?  Don’t bury your head blindly in the sand.  Please?”

She swallowed slowly, suddenly hyper-aware of how the sun had colored his sculpted cheekbones and how the shadows cast by the bill of his cap made him a bit fierce.  Tantalizingly so. 

Summer looked good on her man.

The only thing that would look better on him is me.

“If we can be naked, hot and sweaty in the next five minutes, I’ll do anything you want.”

Those eyes that had been so intent lit with a different type of fire and, in turn, she went up in an internal blaze.  It had been too long since their bodies and souls had meshed.  She needed him.  She needed to be wrapped up so tightly in him, that they couldn’t decide where one of them ended and the other began.

“Beautiful woman,” he growled, stroking his thumb along the inside of her wrist.  “I want to fuck you more than I want my next breath, but I’m not kidding about this.  Promise me you’ll try and be more objective when it comes to him.”

She was about to spontaneously combust from the innocent touch of skin on skin and he was rambling on about nonsense.  “I’m tired of talking about his.”

“I don’t care.”  His fingers curled around her forearm in a possessive grip.  “Promise me, and I’ll reward you for being such a good girl.”

Holy…… Holy…… Everything that is holy!

“I promise.  Oh, God, I promise!”