Blowing her bangs out of her face once more, she finished arranging the petit fours on the tray. The party was slated to start in a few hours and she wanted to make sure everything was perfect.
Jon hadn’t wanted her to do all this work but he couldn’t insult her by going to someone else either. So here she was, just hours before the party was to start, putting the final touches on her creations. She didn’t mind. She loved her work and was grateful that her treatments weren’t interfering. So far. She had changed one of her treatment days from Sunday to Saturday, giving herself an extra day to recover so she could face Monday mornings feeling marginally like herself and on Thursdays she had Josie come in early so she could get a little extra sleep after her Wednesday afternoon torture. The only one who was suffering at this point was Jon.
Jon.
She stood and stretched. He was being so patient with her. She hadn’t felt remotely interested in any kind of sexual activity since they had come back from the Hamptons. All the chemicals flowing around her body combined with the surgery that had made her menopausal had her hormones raging and not in a good way. But today she felt more like her old self.
Satisfied with how the tray looked she slid it into the refrigerator with the others. The petit fours, cookies, neopolitans, tartlets and other assorted bite-sized desserts took up the whole bottom half of the refrigerator.
Unwinding her hair she wandered from the kitchen and down the hall, pausing at the front room. She had recognized this room right off. It was the living room, the only room he had ever allowed to be photographed. She knew from experience that the couch was as comfortable as it was blue. She and Jon had curled up together and watched a movie the night before on that big couch. And Jon had only laughed at her once; when she goggled at the television as it rose up out of the floor. The man certainly enjoyed his toys.
She rolled her shoulders as she stood in the doorway and nearly jumped out of her skin when two arms wrapped around her from behind.
“There you are.” Jon nuzzled his nose into her hair, pressing a kiss behind her ear. It had been six weeks and she still had it. That had to be a good sign.
She angled her head in a silent invitation of more. His breath at her ear buzzed through her; quickening her pulse and warming her blood in anticipation. “I was just on my way upstairs.”
He nibbled on her neck. “I thought you got lost.”
With a low purr, she turned fully into him. “Nope, just wandering, enjoying the quiet before the storm.” Party preparations she knew were well underway but for right now this area of the house was quiet. Her eyes raked over him. “You’re not dressed yet.” He was still in his jeans and t-shirt.
His lips found hers. “We have a little time yet.”
Framed there in the doorway he kissed her gently, looking, hoping for some sign she wanted to be with him again. It had been weeks since there had been anything more than kissing between them. He knew it was because of the chemo and the other medications she was taking to help control the ugly side effects. He didn’t blame her, but damn it, he missed her. When he felt her pull back he tried to hide his disappointment and his hard on. He bit back a sigh. He’d just have to wait a little longer.
“Do you want to get your shower before me?” Or maybe he should run her a bath. That way she would have time to rest a little before the party. He had been so wrapped up in his own activities for the day that he had given little thought to how she must be feeling.
She shook her head, “no.” There was something else she wanted to do before taking that shower. She hadn’t felt like this in too long. She started toward the stairs. “I do want to go upstairs though.”
He followed her up the curved stairs. “Do you want to lie down?” She had been in the kitchen most of the day; she had to be tired. “We have a little while yet.”
She closed the door behind them and crossed to the bed. “I do, but I don’t want to sleep.”
Jon’s eyebrows rose to his forehead as she turned to face him. “What are you saying?” Every other time he had tried before today she had told him no. But now, he wasn’t sure what was going on. Did she want what he thought she wanted or was she just saying that because she knew it was what he wanted? Was she reading his mind again? It was a little unnerving how she knew what he was thinking so often, but in this case, he hoped she was doing just that.
She tugged him to sit down next to her before turning and straddling his lap. She attached her mouth to his and sent them sprawling back on the bed. Her thoughts in the kitchen and the easy intimacy downstairs combined with the sweet gentle kisses had gotten her system humming.
Jon rolled them, crowding her against the pillows as he levered up over her. “Are you sure about this?” He didn’t want to stop, but he would if she wasn’t truly into it.
She grabbed two fists full of shirt and pulled him back down on top of her. “Less talking” she said as she kissed him, “more loving.” She kissed him again and pulled the shirt over his head.
He grinned down at her, he wasn’t about to say no. “Yes ma’am” he growled and nuzzled into her neck, stroking his tongue down the slim column of her throat.
Sitting up he pushed at her shirt, sending it to join his on the floor. His fingers stroked over her lightly. It had been a while since he had seen her, all of her, and he wanted to just look for a minute.
Fingertips skimmed up her sides, dancing along the cotton that covered her breasts. She had lost weight; there was a permanent bruise and prick point on the inside of her arm. She had refused the port they had offered to put in for her chemo, opting instead to endure the stick of a needle every time she went. Lowering his head he pressed his lips to the spot, caressing it lightly with his tongue.
Sliding higher he pressed open-mouth kisses along her arm and across her shoulder, drawing out her pleasure one soft sigh at a time. He wandered lower, tasting a path down her neck and across her chest; pleased and slightly relieved to see her skin go from creamy to rosy the more he touched and tasted. Her gasp and shudder when his mouth closed over a pebbled nipple dispelled the rest of his doubts.
God it was like the first time with him all over again. His mouth, his hands, they were everywhere, awakening senses she had thought dormant. He had always made her feel so much and now he was making her feel so much more. With just his mouth on her breast she felt the wave building. Just when she thought it would crash over her, he eased back, moved on. She reached for him, whimpering when he evaded her hands and shook his head.
“Shhh” he murmured as his lips slid across her skin. She wanted him to hurry. Not knowing when she might feel like this again, he wanted to take his time. Drawing her pants down and off he stroked her stomach, across the line of her scar. No longer red and angry, it had started to fade to a pale pink. When her arm would have hid it from him he pulled it away, resting it at her side.
“It’s ugly” she said, her voice a whisper in the fading daylight.
He raised his gaze to hers. “No. Nothing about you is ugly baby.” He lowered his mouth, kissing across the faded line lightly. He loved every bit of her.
When her hands sought out the button of his jeans, he didn’t evade this time. He let her touch him before moving and wiggling out of the offending denim. Moving back over her, he laced their fingers together and, pressing his hips forward, he filled her slowly.
For a long moment he didn’t move. He dropped his mouth to hers, kissing her gently. When his tongue slid between her lips he pumped his hips slowly, swallowing her soft cries. With long, slow strokes he took her, pushing her toward peak, letting her fall then driving her up again before finally following after her.
Chapter 93
Chapter 92
The clock on the wall over the door read 6:45. Had it really only been three hours since she walked in the door and got started? Cilla laid her head down on her arms. She felt like a dishrag that had been wrung out one too many times and there was still a whole load of dishes to go. After puking herself nearly inside out she had slept the better part of the day and night and now she was wondering if Jon had been right. Maybe she should have waited another day to come back to work.
Sid breezed in, “good morning Cilla.”
She picked her head up and found a smile. She had missed that. “Hey Sid.”
He crossed the room and wrapped her in a hug, dragging her from the stool. “It’s good to see you here again. I missed you.” He set her back down “not that visiting you at Jon’s place in the Hamptons wasn’t amazing, but I missed seeing you here everyday. I love my mom and all, but it just wasn’t the same.”
She nodded her head in agreement. “I missed you too Sid. And it looks like you and Josie handled everything just fine without me. Remind me to thank her. I want to send her some flowers or something. What are her favorites again?”
Sid slipped his apron on. “She likes happy flowers, daisies, sunflowers, whatever. You know you don’t have to do that though.”
Sucking in a deep breath Cilla drew herself up and started grabbing trays, “I know but I want to. She did so much more than she needed to. I don’t know what would have happened if she hadn’t-” she stopped. Her emotions nearly got the better of her and she sniffed back a tear. “I just want her to know how much it meant that she was willing to put everything on hold for me.”
Sid set down his trays and took hers from her hands. “Oh sweetie” he sniffed and tugged her into an embrace “she thinks of you like her daughter, she didn’t mind one bit helping you out.” He held on to her for a minute longer; fighting tears of his own. “She just wants you to get better and live a long and happy life. She is willing to do whatever she can to help out.”
Cilla dug two tissues out of the pocket of her apron and handed one to Sid. “Come on now, no more of this. I can’t take it. My hormones are in enough of a mess right now and this is not helping.” She sniffled and wiped at her tears. “Let’s get these cases loaded and open up.”
They worked in tandem, falling back into their rhythm as if she hadn’t been away at all. When the last of the trays were empty and the kitchen was on it’s way to being in order she laid a hand on Sid’s arm. “Thanks.”
He kissed her forehead and headed back out front. She didn’t want any tears and damn it he didn’t want to cry anymore. He had done enough of that in the last few weeks. He and Cilla had been through just about everything two friends could after 39 years. But this had to be the scariest of all that they had ever come up against. Him coming out had been a piece of cake compared to what she was going through now.
He looked up when he heard the door swing open and he watched as she arranged more cookies in the case. Like Jon, he couldn’t fight this battle for her, but he sure as hell could fight it with her.
“What are you looking at?” Cilla straightened to find him watching her.
“I keep expecting to see my mother come through that door, not you.”
“Sorry, you’ll just have to deal with me.” She studied him for a minute. “Are you okay?”
He nodded. “Yeah. Do you need me to take you to any appointments or anything?”
She laid a hand on his arm. He was always there for her, no matter what, no matter when. He was the best friend she could have ever asked for in her life. Looking up, she could see the worry and the fear for her in his eyes along with a sadness she hadn’t ever seen there before. “No, not yet anyway” she told him gently. “Maybe in a couple weeks. Jon’s going to be out of town playing at a bunch of political rallies. He doesn’t want me to go to the appointments alone.”
He shook his head. It was just like her to think she could do everything by herself. “Smart man. I’ll go with you, just let me know when.” He pulled his arm from under her hand and wrapped it around her shoulders. “You have always tried to do everything yourself. You don’t have to Cil. We’re all here for you. Lean a little would you?”
It wasn’t in her nature to lean on anyone. It never had been. This is why there had been so many fights with Jon in the last few weeks. “I don’t know how Sid.” At his withering look she wrapped an arm around his waist and gave him a squeeze. “Okay, okay. I’ll try. But don’t get all mad and start pouting if it doesn’t happen overnight.”
“I don’t pout” he told her indignantly.
She stroked her thumb across his full lower lip. “Yes you do and you do it so prettily too.”
A throat clearing cough had them turning.
“You making time with my woman Sid?” Jon stood watching the two of them, biting the inside of his cheek trying not to smile.
Sid smiled. “Sorry, she’s so not my type.”
Cilla’s mouth dropped open. “Not your type? Since when?”
“Since about sixth grade when you grew boobs” Sid snickered.
Jon couldn’t hold back the laugh. “We need to have a drink some night so you can share some of those stories.”
Sid shook his head, “only if you’re willing to share your deep dark secrets.”
“I don’t have any.”
“Riiiight” Sid drawled. “You are a rock star who toured in the 80’s, right? You so have secrets.”
Jon shook his head, a smirk on his lips. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Standing there watching the by-play between her man and her best friend, Cilla sent up a silent prayer that there would be many more years of this in her future.
Chapter 91
Two weeks.
Fourteen days.
Three Hundred Thirty Six hours.
Twenty Thousand One Hundred Sixty minutes. All gone in the seeming blink of an eye.
Cilla smiled thinking back on the time they had spent at the beach. Jon had been good to his word and they had done his best to back off. She knew he had kept his eye on her, but that was okay. He hadn’t fussed over her, well no too much anyway, and they truly had enjoyed themselves.
They played with the kids, went to the beach, sat on the sun-warmed sand licking dripping ice cream cones, took long walks. Their nights, while not as amorous as they had once been, were still quietly romantic. They spent many evenings on the chaise watching the sunset, waiting for the moon and stars to brighten the night sky. It had become their favorite spot.
Now, here it was, Sunday morning and she was waiting for the nurse to poke her with another needle so a "cocktail" of poison could be dripped into her body, hopefully to kill the cancer that had decided her body was a nice place to live. She'd rather have a margarita thank you.
The nurse rolled her chair over to Cilla. “Ready?”
The door opened just then and Jon walked in, cell phone to his ear. “I gotta go. Just take care of it.” He sat down next to Cilla. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay. I know you’ve got a lot of things coming up that you need to deal with.” He was going to be doing some stumping starting in a few weeks for the Democratic Presidential Candidate, Barack Obama, and he was going to host a fundraising dinner party in October. Giving him a quiet smile, she took his hand, “you got here just in time.”
He sat down and watched as the nurse swabbed Cilla’s arm and wrapped it with the rubber strap, tapping it trying to bring up a vein. When she picked up the needle he turned his eyes back on Cilla. After all the times on the New Jersey Tour that he had been shot up with steroids you’d think he’d be used to it. He wasn’t. Hell, Dorothea had been the one to take the kids for all their shots when they were little. He couldn’t stand the sight of needles.
Watching Cilla he saw her wince when she got stuck; her grip tightened on his and he thought he might lose his breakfast. Before he could say anything the nurse spoke. “Okay, that wasn’t so bad now was it?”
Cilla rolled her eyes at Jon. “Nope” she told the nurse. “Not at all.” She turned back to him, he looked a little pale. “Are you all right?”
He just nodded his head and swallowed heavily. He wasn’t going to embarrass himself by fleeing the room over a stupid little needle. If she could handle the needle stick and sitting here for six hours having this crap drip into her, he could certainly handle sitting her next to her holding her hand. “I’m fine.”
“Let’s try to keep that arm as still as possible” the nurse told her a she started the drip. She handed Cilla what looked like a small plastic dishpan. “If you start to feel sick, use this.”
Cilla set the ugly yellow pan on the floor next to the chair. She was not going to be sick. She hated being sick and refused to let this get the better of her.
The morning dragged on, two and half more hours to go. Cilla sighed, closed her book and pulled the light blanket over her. She had been going back and forth between warm and cold, so for now it was blanket on.
Easing the chair back she popped in her headphones and curled on her side as best she could. She had sent Jon to go get some coffee, have a cigarette, something. He had been pacing the room for the last half hour like a caged animal. She was glad he had come with her that morning, but she could really do this by herself.
Jon stood outside the room, damning himself a coward for not wanting to go back in there. He had jumped at the opportunity to get out of there for a bit and now, he could barely face walking back in there and watching her sit there knowing that what was dripping into her could not only save her but it could kill her as well. Frustrated, he ran his fingers through his hair. It shouldn’t be her in there. It shouldn’t be anyone.
He was just reaching for the door knob when his phone vibrated in his hand. He had a text message.
[11:15] How’s it going?
It was Richie.
[11:16] It’s going. Waiting fuckin’ sucks.
Richie nodded at the other end. He knew all about the horrors of waiting.
[11:17] I know man. Hang in there. Give her my best. Call me later.
He stepped back into the room, crossing to her quietly. She had dozed off and he didn’t want to wake her. Taking up his seat once again he took her hand in his. With his right hand he reached out and stroked her cheek, brushing back a stray lock of hair. With it or without it she would always be beautiful to him. He would have to remember to tell her that. Everyday.
Bringing her hand to his lips he kissed her fingers. He didn’t want to think about losing her, but it was times like these, quiet times, that the ‘what if’s’ snuck up on him. He tried to push them away. He stroked his fingers across her cheek. He didn’t want to think about his life without her in it.
Her eyes fluttered open to meet his and she pulled the buds from her ears. His were so sad and serious. She swallowed back the metallic taste that had started to creep up to the back of her throat. “You look so sad Jonny. What’s wrong?”
Closing his eyes he willed them to clear. Opening them again he found her watching him intently. "I'm fine baby. Just worried about you." He could see her trying valiently not to get sick. "Need the bucket?"
She swallowed again. Desperately trying to keep her breakfast in her stomach. "No."
The nurse came in just then. "How are we doing?" she asked as she checked on the IV bag. It was empty and she unhooked the tube from the needle in Cilla's arm. "You're all done for today Ms. Preston. Let me just take care of this needle and you can be on your way."
Cilla nodded and watched as the nurse found the gauze and tape all the while breathing deeply through her nose and out her mouth.
Waiting for the nurse to leave Cilla gathered her things and stood. "Ready?"
Jon took her hand and picked up the bucket, "need this yet?"
She started to say "no" then stopped, dropped her bag and grabbed it from him, emptying the contents of her stomach into it before her bag hit the floor.
Chapter 90
Cilla spooned batter into the muffin pans she had found tucked away in a cupboard. She had woken that morning feeling more like herself than she had in the last month.
Scrounging in Jon's kitchen she came up with the ingredients for banana nut muffins and the makings for western omelettes. Hopefully Jo wouldn't mind her taking over the kitchen this morning. She needed to start doing things, normal things. She was tired of being coddled and cared for. It was time to start taking care of herself again.
They had driven out here to the Hamptons last night and Jon had insisted that she sit and not do anything. If she had let him, he probably would have carried her up the stairs and tucked her into bed. It was getting more than a little ridiculous and it was going to stop. Today.
She diced onion, red and green peppers. They were going to enjoy the next two weeks. She wasn't going to think about her upcoming chemo treatments. They weren't going to talk about doctors or hospitals. She wasn't going to let Jon keep her from doing things either. She would take it easy, but she wasn't going to sit back and watch her life pass her by.
Starting with breakfast this morning.
Getting out a bowl she cracked eggs. The kids were coming in a few days and she didn't want them to see her as someone who was sick and should be avoided. She loved their father and she wanted them to see her as she had been the last time she was here. She might not be able to play baseball this time but she wasn't going to sit and do nothing either.
She got out a skillet, added a little butter and set it to heat. She needed to talk to Jon about this, make him understand that she needed to get back to doing things for herself. He was so determined to take care of her that he wasn't seeing that she was better. She would have to find a way to convince him that she was capable of doing for herself. She smiled, thinking about the other day. Maybe a little more messing around would make him see that she was doing just fine.
Searching, she found a tray in the pantry. She loaded it with coffee, juice, an omelette large enough to feed them both and a couple of muffins. Turning, she nearly dropped the tray on the floor. Jon was standing there in the doorway watching her.
"What do you think you're doing?"
She set the tray back on the counter. "I made breakfast and was going to bring it upstairs." She rose up on her toes, pressing a kiss to his stubble covered cheek. "I thought you were still asleep. I was going to surprise you."
She'd surprised him all right. He knew when he woke up with the bed next to him empty and the scent of coffee and bananas in the air that she was up to something. "You know you're supposed to be-" he stopped and watched her. She set up their breakfast on the table. She was moving better, easier than she had been. "You're feeling better."
Cilla nodded, "I am." She waved him to a chair, "you can stop worrying about me."
He picked up his coffee, "never."
She slid her hand up the smooth expanse of his back and pressed a kissed between his shoulders before sitting down next to him. "I'm fine, really." Picking up her fork she held out a bite of eggs to him, "eat."
He should have been the one saying that to her. He opened his mouth, taking the fluffy eggs from her fork. "You should have woken me up, I would have made breakfast."
She couldn't hold back the laugh. "You burn toast baby. But really, it's fine." She laid her hand on his arm, "I'm fine. She looked at him, her gray eyes serious, "I want you to stop treating me like I'm made of glass."
He swiveled his stool, turning to look at her, "I know you're not made of glass Cil. But you need to-"
She pressed a finger to his lips. "I need to start doing again. I want you to promise me something."
He raised a brow speculatively and kissed her finger. "What is it? I don't make promises until I know what I'm getting myself into."
Slipping off her stool she stood in front of him, between his knees. "For the next two weeks we're not going to talk about I have been or what I will be going through. We're not going to speak of hospitals or doctors either."
She trailed her fingers up his thighs, "we're going to enjoy the two weeks out here at the beach. I want to laugh with you Jonny, take walks on the beach with you, play games with you, with your kids." Her fingers walked up higher, stroking him lightly. "I want to love you." She looked up into his face, his eyes. "Can you do all that for me?"
He studied her for a long moment before saying anything. He wasn't sure he could do what she was asking. His innate need to protect and take care of her went to war with the fact that he knew she was healing and that he needed to step back some now. "That's a lot for me to promise."
She walked her fingers up his chest, curling them into his hair. "I know, but I need you to do this for me."
He wrapped his arms around her, lacing his fingers together at the small of her back. "Can you promise me you won't try to do too much too soon? That you'll take things slow for a bit longer?"
Her arms wound around his shoulders, "no fair answering a question with a question. But yes" she answered, "I can and will pace myself. Now, what about you?"
He slid off the stool and scooped her up all in one fluid movement. Taking her out onto the back porch he sat on the chaise, holding her on his lap in the bright morning sun. He wanted nothing more than to promise her everything, wanted to make love with her out here in the warm summer air like he wanted to take his next breath, but what if he hurt her? He would never forgive himself.
"I'll do my best to forget about what's coming up fourteen days from now and enjoy our time together, that's the best I’ve got right now."
She rearranged herself on his lap so she was straddling him. "I guess that will have to do." She pressed her mouth to his, kissing him with an intensity that surprised them both. "Make love with me Jonny, right here on our chaise?"
He slid his hands up under her thin, cotton tank, groaning quietly as he cupped her breasts. "I don't want to hurt you baby."
She cupped his face in her hands, "you won't."
Her complete and utter trust in him staggered him and he couldn’t find the words to deny her. Wordlessly, he pushed her tank top up; leaving her arms tangled in it as his mouth took and tasted one creamy mound. It had been so long since he had had a taste of her he almost forgot himself when she shuddered against him. “Shhh” he murmured as he traced a circle around her distended nipple “easy baby.”
She shook her head, easy for him to say ‘easy’ he wasn’t the one ready to explode. Her thighs were quivering and her blood was pounding through her veins as she felt his fingers inching up inside her shorts. She needed him. Right now. Rising up on her knees she pushed at her shorts, working them off of one leg. She reached for his.
Raising his hips he lowered his enough and she straddled him again, taking him inside her one glorious inch at a time. “Oh God Jonny, I’ve missed you, I've missed us.” She rolled her hips slowly.
Fighting for control his hands latched onto her hips. He was determined to let her set the pace. “I’ve missed you too.” He looked up her eyes were foggy and her face was a mask of pleasure. God he loved her.
She rolled her hips again and, with the August sunshine spilling over them, she rocked them both to soul-shattering finish.
