Chapter 102

The foyer was a confusion of coats and kisses, hugs and goodbyes as Sid and Mark readied to leave and Richie returned from helping Jennie get a sleepy Abby into a cab. Everyone was headed for home, Cilla included. Jon watched in disbelief as she pulled on her coat and swapped the pretty scarf for a knit hat to cover her head. He pulled her aside, “where are you going?”

“Home.”

He frowned. “You are home.” She had been staying here ever since her surgery; her things were in his closet, his drawers. She had just cooked their first holiday dinner in his kitchen. Why was she leaving?

She shook her head. “No, this is your home. Mine is three blocks away.” She didn’t want to fight with him. “I have some stuff to do first thing tomorrow. It’s just easier if I go back to my apartment tonight.” She hated to lie to him, but if it was distance he wanted, she would give him all the space he could possibly need.

He was sure she was lying to him, but he wouldn’t force her to stay where she didn’t want to be. Wordlessly, he let her go. When the door clicked shut behind her the silence in the hallway nearly swallowed him. Had he pushed her away?

Wandering back to the living room he found Richie sprawled on the couch, the fire crackling warmly in the hearth. With a loud sigh, he dropped dejectedly into his favorite chair.

Richie glanced over at Jon. Something was bothering him. The loud sigh was his way of saying he had something on his mind and wanted to talk. “Who ran over your dog bro?”

Jon looked at him quizzically. “What?”

“You look like you just lost your best friend. What’s up?”

“Cilla left.”

One brown brow quirked up. “Left? Where’d she go?”

“She said she was going home.”

Richie studied his friend. “What did you do?”

Jon sat up, pressing his elbows to his knees. "Why do you always automatically assume it was me who did something?"

Richie snickered. "I know you. It's always you that gets you in trouble with a woman. So, what did you do?"

Jon sighed. Who else could he talk to about this? Without giving him any intimate details, he told Richie what had happened that morning and how he had distanced himself from her that day.

Richie was shaking his head and rolling his eyes at the end of Jon's recitation. "You seriously thought you were doing the right thing by holding yourself back from her? No wonder she left."

Studying the floor, Jon ran his hand through his hair, his frustration and agitation ready to erupt. "What else was I supposed to do? I lost control and hurt her this morning and now I don't trust myself not to do it again."

This was just like Jon; heaping the guilt on himself over something he couldn't control. "She trusts you not to."

Jon's eyes jerked up from the floor to his friend's face. "She shouldn't."

Richie sat up and turned to look at his friend. "Yes, she should. You didn't intentionally hurt her, she even said you didn't. You are being way too hard on yourself as usual and you're doing exactly what I told you not to do."

"What? What are you talking about? What did you tell me not to do?"

"When you came to Philly and told me what was going on with her. What did I tell you?" He didn't wait for Jon to answer. "I told you not to baby her or treat her any different. Apparently that advice went in one ear and out the other."

Jon opened his mouth to say something then shut it again. Fuck. Richie was right, again. He had forgotten. Fuck. “What do I do now?”

Richie tried to hide his smile. It gave him a queer sense of pleasure that his friend was not the perfect guy everyone made him out to be. He had normal troubles, just like him and every other guy out there. He pulled the pillow out from under his head and threw it at Jon. “Go talk to her dumb ass.”

Jon caught the pillow and threw it back. “I can’t leave the kids alone.”

Richie rolled his eyes to the ceiling and tucked the pillow back under his head. “What am I?” He waved Jon off and closed his eyes. “I’ll be here. Go talk to your girl.”

Jon grabbed his coat and slipped out the door before he could change his mind.

~

Stepping from the tub, Cilla wrapped herself in a fluffy towel and slicked on her lotion. The bath had relaxed her body, but her mind was still in an uproar. Pulling on a soft thermal shirt and her favorite flannel pants she sighed. Even with the drawstring pulled tight they bagged at her hips. She really needed to go shopping. Grabbing her laptop, she crawled up on her bed and settled against the pillows.

Glancing up she studied the poster hanging on the wall, her eyes rested on the pretty front man. Was today the beginning of the end of them? Had he finally had enough, was that why he was so aloof today? Or was it just that he couldn’t get past what he thought he did to her that morning?

She just didn’t know.

Pushing the computer way she folded her arms across her knees and rested her head on her arms. They needed to talk. She closed her eyes, trying to figure out how to make him understand that she wasn't any more fragile than she had been a few months ago. How could she get him to treat her the same as always? Did he even want to?

Turning her head she opened her eyes. Jon was standing in the doorway watching her. "Hi."

"What are you doing here?"

He stepped into the room. "Can we talk?"

She nodded and started to move to get up. He stopped her. “Stay there.” He took off his coat, tossed it over the back of a chair and sat down on the bed next to her. “You left me.”

She nodded again and picked at the imaginary lint on her pajama pants.

He stilled her hand. “Why?”

She raised her eyes to his, finding her uncertainty reflected there. “I wasn’t sure you really wanted me there.”

“Of course I wanted you there.”

She shook her head. “You weren’t acting like it.”

He sighed. Richie was right, he was a dumb ass. “I’m sorry I made you feel like that. I did and do want you at my place babe. I just couldn’t seem to get past what happened this morning.”

“But I told you-“

He interrupted her. “I know but I didn’t believe you and I didn’t trust myself not to let it happen again.”

She got off the bed and paced in front of him. “So you decided to just keep your distance today. That worked out really well now didn’t it?”

“No, it didn’t.” He watched her pace the floor. “Would you come back over here and sit down please?”

She stopped and turned to look at him. “Why, after I told you I was fine, why didn’t you believe me?”

He shook his head. This had to be the calmest argument he had ever had. Neither was yelling or even raising their voices. “I should have. I’m sorry I didn’t.” He held out his hand to her. He hadn’t touched her all day and right now he needed the contact, even if it was just her hand.

She stared at his outstretched hand. Tentatively she took it and at his gentle tug, she let herself be dragged to stand between his knees. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, tangling her fingers in his hair. “You’ve got to stop thinking you know what’s best for me Jonny.”

His head was pressed to her chest, her heartbeat strong and sure in his ear. “I know, but if anything happened to you and it was because of me, I’d never forgive myself.”

Cupping his face in her hands she tilted his head up, “nothing is going to happen to me. You need to stop worrying so much. You’re going to get grayer than you already are.”

With an indignant “hey” and a laugh he pulled her hands away from his face and fell back on the bed, taking her with him. “That wasn’t nice.”

“Maybe not” she chuckled, “but at least you have hair to get gray.”

He started to say something then stopped and changed tactics. Angling his head closer, he grazed her lips with his. “I’m sorry” he told her as his lips touched hers again.

They lay across her bed for a long while, talking quietly, sharing soft kisses, reconnecting. “Are you staying?” she whispered.

“Do you want me to?” He held his breath. He just wanted to hold her, be close to her, but after the way he treated her today he wouldn’t blame her if she told him no.

She nodded, “yes.”

After he texted Richie that he was staying he shed his clothes and crawled into the bed next to her. “You never wear this many clothes to bed babe.”

She wriggled out of the flannel pants, “I was cold earlier and didn’t expect to be sharing my bed tonight.” She dropped the pants on the floor, “better?”

Their legs tangled together and he cradled her against him. “Much. Sweet dreams baby.”

She closed her eyes and, breathing in the scent of him and with the song of his heart beating in her ear she drifted with him into dreams.