It was now getting on toward seven in the evening, and the tour was almost complete. They’d lingered over the simple meal prepared by Belle, talking the way old friends do, both now comfortable in their rekindled relationship. Comfortable enough to not feel any awkwardness, yet still all Billie felt was simple friendship. Sure, she had a lot of feelings for Jon, both as the father of her only son and as the man she’d known so long ago - and, yes, as the rockstar he’d become - but that was all. She felt no stirrings of love toward him - not even simple lust came into her mind. He was, trappings of rockstardom apart, quite simply a nice guy, and she enjoyed his company for that alone.
Jon led Billie back from the dock, where he’d been showing her the riverside views, taking her hand once more. He walked up the path of mis-shapen stones, each one sunk into the lawn so they were half-concealed, giving the impression they’d been there for decades. On a more practical note, they were also positioned to allow the mower to ride right across them without pause. Something he himself did fairly regularly. Not out of any great desire to play gardener, but, hell, he was a guy, and it was a ride-on, powered mower!
On the way down to the river, he’d shown her the “Shoe Inn” - his English-style pub conveniently located right by the house, and now he led her into the one other building, set a little apart from the main house. This was probably the most intimate part of the entire property for him to show her - more intimate than the interior of the house, more personal than the ‘family’ rooms which were never photographed. This was where he and Richie had so often argued, bitched, yelled and pouted - okay, so the pouting was usually his - and occasionally written some flash of inspired genius that would bring them another hit record.
“Where are we going?” Billie asked as he led her up a narrow staircase.
“You’re a fan - you tell me.” Jon grinned, glancing back at her as he tugged her along behind him.
“Recording studio?” Billie said, half asking, half hoping.
“Yup. The sanctum sanctorum.”
“You mean where you and Richie bitch at each other?”
“Yeah, that too.” He laughed as he pushed open the door to the main part of the studio, shaking his head as he looked at her. “Can’t you believe even a little of the mystique?”
“Nope. Remember, cowboy, I’ve seen you at your worst!”
“My worst?!”
“Yeah, your worst!” Billie smirked, pulling her hand from his as she wandered further into the studio, turning to face him, walking backward. “Sweating like an overworked horse just from carrying a few bales of hay.”
“A few?!” Jon laughed at the memory. “Jesus, Billie, there was a full fuckin’ meadow’s worth in that barn!”
“Okay, you could be right.” She admitted, turning in a slow circle in the centre of the room. “Wow. So this is where you work, huh?”
“Sometimes, yeah. You like?”
“Uh-huh.” Billie ran her fingers slowly across the keys of the piano, wandering away from the instrument to instead stroke a fingernail over the strings of an acoustic guitar, pulling a soft sound from it. “It’s…….peaceful, I guess. I can see how you can ‘create’ in here.”
“We try to.” Jon replied softly, smiling at her. “Though it’s anything but peaceful when we’re all here! We got Teek sittin’ with a cig jammed in his teeth, pounding on the drums, Dave playin’ some fuckin’ classical shit and Rich forgettin’ what he’s written…….reeeaaal peaceful!”
“You forgot about you - bitching at them all because you want perfection, right off the bat.”
“Me?” Jon walked toward her, his fingertips spread on his chest in an attitude of utter innocence. “ME?!”
“Yeah, you!” Billie rolled her eyes. “I’m a fan, remember? I’ve read all about the perfectionist-primadonna side of you! Type A personality, right? Oh, and you can forget playing the innocent thing with me, Mister Bongiovi! I know you too well.”
“That you do, cowgirl. That you do.” Jon smiled again.
It was strange, he thought, just how comfortable he felt with her. Sure, they’d been extremely intimate - clearly, since they’d made a child - but that was twenty years in the past, and they really didn’t know each other any more. Actually, they’d never really known each other, he realised. She’d never known his surname - he’d never offered it, and she’d never asked - and it hadn’t mattered. Even when she did discover who he was, after he’d gone from her life, she’d respected his life - and his wife - and hadn’t made any effort to contact him. That showed a level of class that was hard to find, particularly in the kind of life he led. Showed a class that made him think just maybe there was more to his feelings for her than just as the mother of his eldest son. Made him wonder if perhaps he was actually in lo……….
“What?” Billie frowned, Jon’s distracted, rapt expression concerning her a little.
“Huh? Oh, sorry…..” He shrugged. “I was just thinking.”
“ ‘bout what?” She tilted her head, that tiny movement that still tripped something inside him.
“You. Me. Us.”
“Us?” Billie backed up a step. “What do you mean ‘us’?”
“I…….uhh………well…..” What the fuck? Suddenly I’m stammering like a teenager? “I just thought - just hoped - maybe we could spend some time together again. Maybe see if we still have the same……chemistry….we had before.”
“Jon, I……” Billie backed up again. “Jesus…..I mean……whoa, cowboy……” Holy shit….after all this time, he wants me back? He wants to just pick up where we left off, just because his wife doesn’t want him now? Goddammit… “Jon, I love you as Jay’s father, but that’s all.”
Jon flushed in chagrin. Dammit, how could he have misjudged things so badly? He scratched at his elbow, a habit that rose to the surface under even minor stress, looking across the studio toward the window, silently cursing himself.
“Jon? Jon, I’m sorry.” Billie said softly, walking toward him again, laying her hand on his forearm. “I didn’t realise you were thinking that way.”
“Neither did I.” He muttered, meeting her eyes again.
What killed him most of all was that all he saw there was compassion.
Monday, November 5, 2012
Chapter 72
Comfortable in the backseat of the black SUV that had arrived to collect her, Billie looked through the privacy-tinted windows at the countryside around them. Somehow she’d not expected this kind of rural, tree-lined landscape in New Jersey. Which was kind of silly, really, considering it was ‘the Garden State’, but still it was a surprise.
The road they were on now twisted and turned, up and down small valleys, then the driver slowed, making a right turn into a driveway. He slid his window down, speaking into the intercom by the wide gates, then there was a muted buzz as whoever was at the other end clearly approved their entry, the gates swinging slowly inward to let them pass.
Billie couldn’t really say she was nervous - just excited to be out of the confines of the city, back into a little bit of countryside. Back to the kind of landscape she loved. All that was missing was a couple of horses and it could be paradise.
And then she saw the house.
Massively oversized even for a family of six, the pale creamy colored stone picked up the sunlight and seemed to glow, the banks of windows winking at her.
“Wow.” She muttered. Sure, she’d seen photographs of the place - both ‘official’ and also the shots of enterprising fans who stopped on the roadside - but damn it still took her breath away.
“Quite a place.” The driver replied, flicking a glance at the rearview mirror. Clearly he’d not been there before either.
“Y’think?” Billie joked. “Kinda small if you ask me.”
The driver laughed. They’d chatted for a fair bit of the drive, only really breaking off conversation when he’d had to give more attention to the GPS that was directing him to Navesink River Road. Well, that interruption and also when Richie had called Billie’s cellphone, sounding just a little surprised when she’d explained where she was and where she was going. Unless Billie’s feminine instincts were way off-base, there had been at least a hint of jealousy in his voice when she said she’d be spending the night at Jon’s house, and she wasn’t sure why she bothered to clarify that she’d be in one of the guest bedrooms. That obviously mollified Richie, and he chuckled as he told her to ask for the Sambora Suite.
As the car halted at the doors, Billie grabbed her bag from the seat and had the door opened before the driver could get there to do it for her. She slid carefully out of the high car - she was ninety-nine-point-nine per cent fine after her injuries, but still she was erring on the side of caution. The last thing she wanted was to land back in hospital now she’d finally escaped.
She thanked the driver and walked hesitantly toward the imposing front door of the house, curious to find out whether Jon would open it himself or some anonymous member of staff would appear. As it turned out, neither was the case, as there was a deep woof of welcome as an elderly black and tan dog appeared around the side of the building, trotting stiffly toward her.
“Well, hello you.” She smiled, holding out a hand to the dog. He sniffed her fingers before moving closer, his thick tail slamming into her as he wagged a welcome, and Billie laughed at his total lack of guard dog qualities. “What’s your name then?”
As Billie slid her hand through the thick fur on his neck, looking for a collar and nametag, she heard that familiar voice over the crunch of feet on gravel.
“Great guard dog, isn’t he?” Jon grinned at her as she looked up, then his gaze dropped to the dog. “Arenchya, Copper? Dumb dog.”
Copper wagged again, then folded his hind legs, dropping his butt onto Billie’s foot to keep her there as she petted him. Clearly, in his ears, ‘dumb dog’ was a term of endearment.
“Hi.” Billie smiled at Jon as she scratched behind Copper’s floppy ears.
“Hi. How was the trip down?”
“Was okay. Me and Craig talked most of the way down here. Well, except when Richie called.” She smirked. “He told me to ask for the Sambora Suite.”
“Sambora Suite.” Jon muttered with a grin. “I should start charging him rent, amount of time he spends here sometimes.”
“Oh, yeah, ‘cause you clearly need the money.” Billie rolled her eyes, then gave Copper’s head a final pat. “Okay, baby, off my foot please.”
Before Jon could say how Copper just didn’t listen to instructions, he was stunned to watch the old dog obediently lift his butt off Billie’s foot, standing in front of her, his tail wagging slowly.
“You still have a way with animals.” He said softly, shaking his head, then he reached out to take the bag from her hand, Billie surprised enough that she didn’t resist. “C’mon, let’s take this inside and I’ll show you to your room - and just to keep Mookie quiet I can put you in his room if you want.”
“I don’t mind - not like I’d know the difference!”
“Oh, yeah you would.” Jon said a little cryptically, leading the way to the front door.
Inside the house, Billie tried to not look like a total hick - or, worse, a fan - as she looked around the marble and gilt that decorated the foyer, following Jon inside. He looked at her, suddenly seeing the house as she did, seeing the almost overdone effect, yet still loving his home.
“I was going for a kind of Versailles thing.” He grinned.
“So I see.” Billie turned slowly around, the effect settling on her now, moving from overdone and dripping with money to something more beautiful. Somehow, it took a few minutes to ‘get’ the place, but now she did………yes, it was a beautiful home. “It’s gorgeous, Jon. Truly.”
“Thank you.” He smiled at her. The simple compliment was more meaningful because it was obviously honest - no false gushing over décor for Billie - she saw, she liked, she said so. “Let’s take your stuff upstairs then I’ll give you the full tour.”
Billie followed him up the wide staircase, her fingers resting lightly on the ornate banister rail, then Jon led her down a hallway that belonged in a plush hotel, pausing at a door.
“The Sambora Suite, ma’am.” He joked, opening the door and stepping inside like a well-trained bellhop.
Following him in, Billie immediately understood his comment about knowing the difference if he’d not put her in here. The room had been decorated in rich shades of purple, gold accents here and there erring just on the side of taste, never falling over into garish excess. It was skillfully done, and Billie stopped in the centre of the room, turning slowly in place as Jon watched her.
“It’s very……..purple.” She said, then smiled. “It’s beautiful, actually.”
“Dot had it redone a couple years ago.” He explained. “And since Rich was spending so much fucking time here, working on the record, she had it done to suit him. Told you you’d know it was his. Even without the pictures.”
“Pictures?” Billie turned as Jon gestured toward the dresser, and she crossed to look at the photographs arranged on the dark surface, dull gilt frames matching the look of the room.
There were photographs of Richie’s parents, both with him and alone, photographs of Ava that looked to have been professionally done, and one beautiful candid shot, a black and white photo of Richie and Ava, huddled together doing homework or something like it. They were both smiling - Ava in the excitement of sudden understanding of whatever they were working on, and Richie just from the joy of being with his little girl. It was a truly beautiful photograph, and Billie touched the frame gently, the soft rumble of Jon’s voice behind her.
“Adam took that, just before he got sick. It’s one of Richie’s favorite photos of him and Ava - he has a copy here, one in Philly and one in Cali, too.”
“Can’t blame him - it’s a great photograph. They both look so happy.”
“Yeah. Rich was just getting his life back together after Heather fucked him over. Then Adam got sick and we lost him, then all the other shit………..” He shook off the despondency with an obvious effort. “But he’s better now, back to the old, pain-in-the-ass Richie we all know and love.”
They both laughed at that, then Jon took Billie’s hand, the contact just friendly, nothing more.
“C’mon. I’ll show you around…….unless you want to eat first?”
“Depends how long the tour takes.” She giggled.
Jon frowned as he thought, then he made his decision.
“Let’s eat first.”
The road they were on now twisted and turned, up and down small valleys, then the driver slowed, making a right turn into a driveway. He slid his window down, speaking into the intercom by the wide gates, then there was a muted buzz as whoever was at the other end clearly approved their entry, the gates swinging slowly inward to let them pass.
Billie couldn’t really say she was nervous - just excited to be out of the confines of the city, back into a little bit of countryside. Back to the kind of landscape she loved. All that was missing was a couple of horses and it could be paradise.
And then she saw the house.
Massively oversized even for a family of six, the pale creamy colored stone picked up the sunlight and seemed to glow, the banks of windows winking at her.
“Wow.” She muttered. Sure, she’d seen photographs of the place - both ‘official’ and also the shots of enterprising fans who stopped on the roadside - but damn it still took her breath away.
“Quite a place.” The driver replied, flicking a glance at the rearview mirror. Clearly he’d not been there before either.
“Y’think?” Billie joked. “Kinda small if you ask me.”
The driver laughed. They’d chatted for a fair bit of the drive, only really breaking off conversation when he’d had to give more attention to the GPS that was directing him to Navesink River Road. Well, that interruption and also when Richie had called Billie’s cellphone, sounding just a little surprised when she’d explained where she was and where she was going. Unless Billie’s feminine instincts were way off-base, there had been at least a hint of jealousy in his voice when she said she’d be spending the night at Jon’s house, and she wasn’t sure why she bothered to clarify that she’d be in one of the guest bedrooms. That obviously mollified Richie, and he chuckled as he told her to ask for the Sambora Suite.
As the car halted at the doors, Billie grabbed her bag from the seat and had the door opened before the driver could get there to do it for her. She slid carefully out of the high car - she was ninety-nine-point-nine per cent fine after her injuries, but still she was erring on the side of caution. The last thing she wanted was to land back in hospital now she’d finally escaped.
She thanked the driver and walked hesitantly toward the imposing front door of the house, curious to find out whether Jon would open it himself or some anonymous member of staff would appear. As it turned out, neither was the case, as there was a deep woof of welcome as an elderly black and tan dog appeared around the side of the building, trotting stiffly toward her.
“Well, hello you.” She smiled, holding out a hand to the dog. He sniffed her fingers before moving closer, his thick tail slamming into her as he wagged a welcome, and Billie laughed at his total lack of guard dog qualities. “What’s your name then?”
As Billie slid her hand through the thick fur on his neck, looking for a collar and nametag, she heard that familiar voice over the crunch of feet on gravel.
“Great guard dog, isn’t he?” Jon grinned at her as she looked up, then his gaze dropped to the dog. “Arenchya, Copper? Dumb dog.”
Copper wagged again, then folded his hind legs, dropping his butt onto Billie’s foot to keep her there as she petted him. Clearly, in his ears, ‘dumb dog’ was a term of endearment.
“Hi.” Billie smiled at Jon as she scratched behind Copper’s floppy ears.
“Hi. How was the trip down?”
“Was okay. Me and Craig talked most of the way down here. Well, except when Richie called.” She smirked. “He told me to ask for the Sambora Suite.”
“Sambora Suite.” Jon muttered with a grin. “I should start charging him rent, amount of time he spends here sometimes.”
“Oh, yeah, ‘cause you clearly need the money.” Billie rolled her eyes, then gave Copper’s head a final pat. “Okay, baby, off my foot please.”
Before Jon could say how Copper just didn’t listen to instructions, he was stunned to watch the old dog obediently lift his butt off Billie’s foot, standing in front of her, his tail wagging slowly.
“You still have a way with animals.” He said softly, shaking his head, then he reached out to take the bag from her hand, Billie surprised enough that she didn’t resist. “C’mon, let’s take this inside and I’ll show you to your room - and just to keep Mookie quiet I can put you in his room if you want.”
“I don’t mind - not like I’d know the difference!”
“Oh, yeah you would.” Jon said a little cryptically, leading the way to the front door.
Inside the house, Billie tried to not look like a total hick - or, worse, a fan - as she looked around the marble and gilt that decorated the foyer, following Jon inside. He looked at her, suddenly seeing the house as she did, seeing the almost overdone effect, yet still loving his home.
“I was going for a kind of Versailles thing.” He grinned.
“So I see.” Billie turned slowly around, the effect settling on her now, moving from overdone and dripping with money to something more beautiful. Somehow, it took a few minutes to ‘get’ the place, but now she did………yes, it was a beautiful home. “It’s gorgeous, Jon. Truly.”
“Thank you.” He smiled at her. The simple compliment was more meaningful because it was obviously honest - no false gushing over décor for Billie - she saw, she liked, she said so. “Let’s take your stuff upstairs then I’ll give you the full tour.”
Billie followed him up the wide staircase, her fingers resting lightly on the ornate banister rail, then Jon led her down a hallway that belonged in a plush hotel, pausing at a door.
“The Sambora Suite, ma’am.” He joked, opening the door and stepping inside like a well-trained bellhop.
Following him in, Billie immediately understood his comment about knowing the difference if he’d not put her in here. The room had been decorated in rich shades of purple, gold accents here and there erring just on the side of taste, never falling over into garish excess. It was skillfully done, and Billie stopped in the centre of the room, turning slowly in place as Jon watched her.
“It’s very……..purple.” She said, then smiled. “It’s beautiful, actually.”
“Dot had it redone a couple years ago.” He explained. “And since Rich was spending so much fucking time here, working on the record, she had it done to suit him. Told you you’d know it was his. Even without the pictures.”
“Pictures?” Billie turned as Jon gestured toward the dresser, and she crossed to look at the photographs arranged on the dark surface, dull gilt frames matching the look of the room.
There were photographs of Richie’s parents, both with him and alone, photographs of Ava that looked to have been professionally done, and one beautiful candid shot, a black and white photo of Richie and Ava, huddled together doing homework or something like it. They were both smiling - Ava in the excitement of sudden understanding of whatever they were working on, and Richie just from the joy of being with his little girl. It was a truly beautiful photograph, and Billie touched the frame gently, the soft rumble of Jon’s voice behind her.
“Adam took that, just before he got sick. It’s one of Richie’s favorite photos of him and Ava - he has a copy here, one in Philly and one in Cali, too.”
“Can’t blame him - it’s a great photograph. They both look so happy.”
“Yeah. Rich was just getting his life back together after Heather fucked him over. Then Adam got sick and we lost him, then all the other shit………..” He shook off the despondency with an obvious effort. “But he’s better now, back to the old, pain-in-the-ass Richie we all know and love.”
They both laughed at that, then Jon took Billie’s hand, the contact just friendly, nothing more.
“C’mon. I’ll show you around…….unless you want to eat first?”
“Depends how long the tour takes.” She giggled.
Jon frowned as he thought, then he made his decision.
“Let’s eat first.”
Chapter 71
It was almost two weeks now since Nick Fabian had been charged with his sordid crimes against Billie. Two weeks in which Billie had settled herself into a new hotel - the other one just held too many horrific memories for her to even consider setting foot inside the building again - and two weeks in which Jon had moved from the city apartment back out to Jersey. Two weeks in which Richie had kept his distance from Billie - not because he particularly wanted to, but because he knew it was what she needed right now. Really, it was what they both needed - time to sort out in their own minds just what was going on between them. Time and space to figure out what they were feeling, and whether it was something real or just his protective instincts kicking into overdrive. Somehow, though, he didn’t think so - even in the current situation he just couldn’t see Billie playing the damsel in distress. He had a feeling, too, that she’d kick his ass if he was ever dumb enough to try treating her that way. Billie was nothing if not a strong-willed woman.
So he’d stayed away. Not that he’d cut off contact - he valued their friendship if that was all this was to be - and they talked daily. Most of the time their conversations were light-hearted - God knew, Billie had enough seriousness in her life right now - but on one or two occasions he’d talked her through a rough patch of blaming herself - again - for the collapse of Jon’s marriage. But Richie had told her firmly - almost brutally so - that it was not her fault. He’d even confided to her that Dot, in fact, had another guy. And that he’d been on the scene for a very long time.
Even that conversation, though, gave Richie a flicker of hope and encouragement, when Billie’s reaction was one of sympathy……but not even a hint of interest in Jon as a soon-to-be-single guy. Any love she still harbored for Jon was only related to his place as Jay’s father, and Richie couldn’t deny being pleased by that.
Today, Billie was in the hotel gym. Truth be told, she hated gyms, hated ‘exercise for exercise’s sake’. Give her a physical activity - whether that be riding or shifting bales of hay - and she was more than happy to work up a sweat. But this? Not her idea of fun. Still, she knew she needed exercise to speed the healing process, which was why she was on a cross trainer, working up a healthy sweat without overdoing things. Well, without overdoing things too much.
All in all, though, she felt good. Felt almost back to her old self. The pain was gone totally - not even the sudden flashes of it if she moved too fast - and a checkup the day before had also garnered Doctor Riviello’s agreement that she was fully healed. To the extent that, if she wanted to, he’d given her the all-clear to return to normal sexual activity, though he warned that any further issues in that area were more likely to be psychological than physical. A fact Billie was well aware of. Right now, the idea of trusting any other man into her bed - into her body - wasn’t exactly attractive. Of course, there was someone on her horizon who certainly wasn’t just ‘any other man’.
The cross trainer beeped, jolting her from her thoughts, and with perfect timing her cell rang as she stepped down from the machine. Not even bothering to check the caller ID, she answered.
“Hello?”
“Hi……Billie?” Lounging back on the couch, Jon frowned. “You okay?”
“Yeeaah.” She said hesitantly. “Who….?” Pulling the phone from her ear, she read the display and blushed. How could she not know that voice? “Sorry, Jon - I wasn’t sure who…..didn’t check the ID.”
“S’okay. Are you okay?”
“Uh-huh. I’m in the gym. God, how can you say you enjoy this? I hate it!”
Jon chuckled. “I dunno - works for me. Hey, I was wondering if you felt like joining me for lunch?”
“Why? Are you falling apart?” An instant, smart-ass answer like one of the kids would’ve given him.
“Sometimes I think so.” He laughed. God, she still made him feel good. “So - lunch?”
“Yeah, okay. Where?”
“How about here?” He glanced at the clock, thinking how long it would take to get her to Jersey. “Actually, if you like - and there are no strings, by the way - why don’t you bring an overnight bag? There’s a shitload of empty rooms here, and by the time you get here it could be closer to dinner than lunch.”
Billie didn’t even hesitate. Hell, twenty years ago she hadn’t even known his full name and she’d taken him into her home, so why would she even think twice about this? Besides, if she were honest, what fan wouldn’t take the opportunity of a guided tour of the Versailles-styled mansion?!
“Sounds good.” Was all she said though.
“Great.” Jon grinned. “Tell the hotel……actually, don’t worry ‘bout it. I’ll get a car to come get you. Can you be ready in an hour?”
Billie laughed. “Cowboy, I can be ready to leave in five minutes - I pack fast and light. Though, okay, I do need to shower, so make it an hour!”
After saying goodbye, Jon snapped his phone shut, staring across the empty living room. Living room. That had to be some kind of sick joke. There wasn’t much living going on here these days. His life was starting to remind him of a Native American quotation he’d once read, which begged the question ‘Is this the end of living and the beginning of survival?’ Seemed appropriate to how his life was going right now. Talking with Billie, though, somehow put things more into perspective. Just like she’d done for him all those years ago.
Maybe it was from knowing what she’d done - what she’d allowed to be done - to protect him, or maybe it was just the sound of her voice, but either way his day had brightened dramatically as soon as she’d agreed to come visit, so he wasn’t going to question it.
Smiling, he opened his phone again, scrolling through numbers until he found the limo company in Philly, calling them to arrange to have Billie picked up and brought out to Jersey. That done, he hauled himself off the couch and started for the kitchen, to let Belle know there’d be a guest for a late lunch, and dinner. And breakfast. Thinking as he went that it was a good thing he and Dot had agreed that Belle would return to the Jersey house, while Tina stayed in the city with the children. A damned good thing, since his cookery skills hadn’t advanced much since he’d first met Billie.
So he’d stayed away. Not that he’d cut off contact - he valued their friendship if that was all this was to be - and they talked daily. Most of the time their conversations were light-hearted - God knew, Billie had enough seriousness in her life right now - but on one or two occasions he’d talked her through a rough patch of blaming herself - again - for the collapse of Jon’s marriage. But Richie had told her firmly - almost brutally so - that it was not her fault. He’d even confided to her that Dot, in fact, had another guy. And that he’d been on the scene for a very long time.
Even that conversation, though, gave Richie a flicker of hope and encouragement, when Billie’s reaction was one of sympathy……but not even a hint of interest in Jon as a soon-to-be-single guy. Any love she still harbored for Jon was only related to his place as Jay’s father, and Richie couldn’t deny being pleased by that.
Today, Billie was in the hotel gym. Truth be told, she hated gyms, hated ‘exercise for exercise’s sake’. Give her a physical activity - whether that be riding or shifting bales of hay - and she was more than happy to work up a sweat. But this? Not her idea of fun. Still, she knew she needed exercise to speed the healing process, which was why she was on a cross trainer, working up a healthy sweat without overdoing things. Well, without overdoing things too much.
All in all, though, she felt good. Felt almost back to her old self. The pain was gone totally - not even the sudden flashes of it if she moved too fast - and a checkup the day before had also garnered Doctor Riviello’s agreement that she was fully healed. To the extent that, if she wanted to, he’d given her the all-clear to return to normal sexual activity, though he warned that any further issues in that area were more likely to be psychological than physical. A fact Billie was well aware of. Right now, the idea of trusting any other man into her bed - into her body - wasn’t exactly attractive. Of course, there was someone on her horizon who certainly wasn’t just ‘any other man’.
The cross trainer beeped, jolting her from her thoughts, and with perfect timing her cell rang as she stepped down from the machine. Not even bothering to check the caller ID, she answered.
“Hello?”
“Hi……Billie?” Lounging back on the couch, Jon frowned. “You okay?”
“Yeeaah.” She said hesitantly. “Who….?” Pulling the phone from her ear, she read the display and blushed. How could she not know that voice? “Sorry, Jon - I wasn’t sure who…..didn’t check the ID.”
“S’okay. Are you okay?”
“Uh-huh. I’m in the gym. God, how can you say you enjoy this? I hate it!”
Jon chuckled. “I dunno - works for me. Hey, I was wondering if you felt like joining me for lunch?”
“Why? Are you falling apart?” An instant, smart-ass answer like one of the kids would’ve given him.
“Sometimes I think so.” He laughed. God, she still made him feel good. “So - lunch?”
“Yeah, okay. Where?”
“How about here?” He glanced at the clock, thinking how long it would take to get her to Jersey. “Actually, if you like - and there are no strings, by the way - why don’t you bring an overnight bag? There’s a shitload of empty rooms here, and by the time you get here it could be closer to dinner than lunch.”
Billie didn’t even hesitate. Hell, twenty years ago she hadn’t even known his full name and she’d taken him into her home, so why would she even think twice about this? Besides, if she were honest, what fan wouldn’t take the opportunity of a guided tour of the Versailles-styled mansion?!
“Sounds good.” Was all she said though.
“Great.” Jon grinned. “Tell the hotel……actually, don’t worry ‘bout it. I’ll get a car to come get you. Can you be ready in an hour?”
Billie laughed. “Cowboy, I can be ready to leave in five minutes - I pack fast and light. Though, okay, I do need to shower, so make it an hour!”
After saying goodbye, Jon snapped his phone shut, staring across the empty living room. Living room. That had to be some kind of sick joke. There wasn’t much living going on here these days. His life was starting to remind him of a Native American quotation he’d once read, which begged the question ‘Is this the end of living and the beginning of survival?’ Seemed appropriate to how his life was going right now. Talking with Billie, though, somehow put things more into perspective. Just like she’d done for him all those years ago.
Maybe it was from knowing what she’d done - what she’d allowed to be done - to protect him, or maybe it was just the sound of her voice, but either way his day had brightened dramatically as soon as she’d agreed to come visit, so he wasn’t going to question it.
Smiling, he opened his phone again, scrolling through numbers until he found the limo company in Philly, calling them to arrange to have Billie picked up and brought out to Jersey. That done, he hauled himself off the couch and started for the kitchen, to let Belle know there’d be a guest for a late lunch, and dinner. And breakfast. Thinking as he went that it was a good thing he and Dot had agreed that Belle would return to the Jersey house, while Tina stayed in the city with the children. A damned good thing, since his cookery skills hadn’t advanced much since he’d first met Billie.
Chapter 70
Richie woke in the half-dark living room, squinting across to the other couch, frowning slightly. Billie had been there, right? He’d not dreamed her getting out of hospital? As his brain cleared, though, he knew she had been there - was there - and the cover that was pushed to one end of the empty couch confirmed it. So where the hell was she?
“Billie?” He murmured, dropping his feet to the floor and sitting upright again.
Before he could speak again - before his confusion deepened toward worry - Richie heard the sound of a flushing toilet, and he relaxed back against the cushions. He’d not gotten to showing her around his apartment, but she was a lady of initiative, so she’d left him to sleep while she did her own searching for ‘the necessary’.
Reaching out, he flipped the switch on the lamp closest to him, a soft, warm light brightening the room. He heard Billie’s tiptoed approach, then her footsteps became more normal as she saw the glow of the light and realised he was awake.
“I hope you don’t mind.” She said as she walked around the back of the couch. “I didn’t want to disturb you…..but I really needed to pee!”
“S’okay.” He grinned. “Feel better after your nap?”
“Uh huh.” She blushed slightly, sitting down on the couch again. “Sorry - I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”
“I told you already, it’s fine darlin’. Hell, you obviously needed it. Guess I did, too. You want coffee or somethin’?”
“Coffee’d be good.”
Levering his long frame up off the couch, Richie headed to the kitchen, turning at a soft sound to find Billie following him. He grabbed a fresh mug from the cupboard for her, refilling his own before turning again.
“Cream? Sugar?”
“Just cream. Actually, milk if you have it.”
“Yep.”
Not standing on ceremony, Richie brought a carton out of the fridge, laying it on the counter next to Billie’s mug, leaving her to doctor the coffee to her own taste. For himself, he added a few spoons of sugar and a splash of cream, stirring it all into the coffee before taking a satisfying gulp.
“So you take a little coffee with your sugar, huh?” Billie teased, and Richie laughed, not a polite half-chuckle, but a proper laugh, filled with mischief and enjoyment.
“Yeah I do.” His eyes sparkled as he laughed again, grinning at her until he felt he needed to explain. “I love that you don’t see me as anything but a guy.”
“You mean you’re not a guy?” But she knew what he meant.
“Oh, trust me, I’m alllll guy!” Richie was still chuckling. “But I mean that you - even though you’ve said you’re a fan of the band - don’t pussyfoot around and treat me like a fuckin’ rockstar. I like that.”
Now Billie joined him in laughter. “I guess, after the initial shock of meeting you - and that was more to do with the circumstances than with who you are - I just don’t impress easily. Wait. That came out wrong.”
“No, no, you don’t find me impressive. I get it.” He pretended to pout, and Billie snorted.
“Aw, did I hurt your feewings?”
Richie nodded emphatically, and Billie beckoned him closer, Richie leaning across the counter so she could bring her lips close to his ear.
“Tough!” She giggled into his ear. “Takes more than a name to impress me, darlin’.”
As they both moved back, through some kind of chance or luck or mistake they each turned slightly, their lips brushing gently together in not-quite-a-kiss, Billie’s eyes widening at the touch. Neither of them made anything of it, though, just turning their attention back to their coffee, then their eyes met again and they both smiled silently.
They were back on the couches, talking quietly, when Richie’s cellphone rang again, and he frowned as he looked at the unfamiliar number, then shrugged and answered it anyway.
“Hello?”
“Uh, Mr Sambora?” Richie didn’t reply, and after a moment the caller seemed to understand why. “It’s Detective Kellogg.”
“Oh, hi Detective.” Richie smiled across at Billie. “What can I do for you?”
“Oh, nothing really. I just wanted to let you know that we’ve charged………our suspect…….with all the relevant crimes against Ms Kelsall.”
“And what about the other girl?” Richie asked, realising from the echoing quality of the call that the detective was in a stairwell, probably hiding out from anyone hearing her discuss the case with him.
“She brought charges, too. Lesser charges, I’m glad to say, but she still said she’ll stand up in court and say what he did.”
“Thank God for that. I’ll tell Billie.” A hesitation. “If that’s allowed?”
Leaning against the scuffed brick of the fire escape stair, the woman shrugged. “It isn’t really, but then neither is this call, so if you think it’ll help her, go ahead.”
“Okay, I will.” Glancing at Billie, Richie saw the curiousity on her face. “Where is he now?”
“Now? Oh, now he’s where he’ll stay until the trial, unless his wife posts his bond. Which seems doubtful since I hear she’s filing for divorce. He’s locked up, Mr Sambora. Tell Billie that. Tell her he can’t hurt her again.”
“I wouldn’t let him.” Richie murmured, flushing as he realised what he’d said.
He said goodbye to the cop and closed his phone, looking over at Billie until she leaned forward, gesturing for him to speak.
“C’mon, Richie - don’t make me beat it out of you! That was about Fabian, right?”
“Yes, it was.” He grinned. “It was Detective Kellogg. Her other victim agreed to testify, if she has to, and she brought more charges against him. They’ve charged him with everything he did to you, and he’s locked up until trial.” He chuckled. “Well, unless his wife posts bond for him, and since she’s apparently filing for divorce…….that ain’t happenin’!”
“Locked up?” Billie whispered, her eyes begging Richie to confirm it, her hands clasped tightly to contain the shakes that had come from nowhere.
“Locked up.” Richie confirmed, seeing her fight the reaction.
Hesitating for a moment, he got off his couch and moved to sit next to her, wrapping his arms around her shoulders, pulling her to him.
“He’s locked up, Billie. He can’t hurt you again. You’re safe. I wouldn’t ever let him hurt you again, darlin’.”
“I…….” She tried to pull out of his arms, not because she was afraid of him, but she was afraid of herself. Afraid if she allowed herself to react that she’d never stop the shaking and the tears that she could feel.
“Let it go, Billie.” Richie whispered against her hair. “It’s okay. Let it go. You need to let it out.”
A sob racked her, and the shuddering gulp for breath that followed ripped into Richie’s heart, then all he could do was hold her as Billie started to cry like she’d never stop, every tear cleansing away another fraction of what had been done to her, helping her to start healing mentally and emotionally as well as physically.
“Billie?” He murmured, dropping his feet to the floor and sitting upright again.
Before he could speak again - before his confusion deepened toward worry - Richie heard the sound of a flushing toilet, and he relaxed back against the cushions. He’d not gotten to showing her around his apartment, but she was a lady of initiative, so she’d left him to sleep while she did her own searching for ‘the necessary’.
Reaching out, he flipped the switch on the lamp closest to him, a soft, warm light brightening the room. He heard Billie’s tiptoed approach, then her footsteps became more normal as she saw the glow of the light and realised he was awake.
“I hope you don’t mind.” She said as she walked around the back of the couch. “I didn’t want to disturb you…..but I really needed to pee!”
“S’okay.” He grinned. “Feel better after your nap?”
“Uh huh.” She blushed slightly, sitting down on the couch again. “Sorry - I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”
“I told you already, it’s fine darlin’. Hell, you obviously needed it. Guess I did, too. You want coffee or somethin’?”
“Coffee’d be good.”
Levering his long frame up off the couch, Richie headed to the kitchen, turning at a soft sound to find Billie following him. He grabbed a fresh mug from the cupboard for her, refilling his own before turning again.
“Cream? Sugar?”
“Just cream. Actually, milk if you have it.”
“Yep.”
Not standing on ceremony, Richie brought a carton out of the fridge, laying it on the counter next to Billie’s mug, leaving her to doctor the coffee to her own taste. For himself, he added a few spoons of sugar and a splash of cream, stirring it all into the coffee before taking a satisfying gulp.
“So you take a little coffee with your sugar, huh?” Billie teased, and Richie laughed, not a polite half-chuckle, but a proper laugh, filled with mischief and enjoyment.
“Yeah I do.” His eyes sparkled as he laughed again, grinning at her until he felt he needed to explain. “I love that you don’t see me as anything but a guy.”
“You mean you’re not a guy?” But she knew what he meant.
“Oh, trust me, I’m alllll guy!” Richie was still chuckling. “But I mean that you - even though you’ve said you’re a fan of the band - don’t pussyfoot around and treat me like a fuckin’ rockstar. I like that.”
Now Billie joined him in laughter. “I guess, after the initial shock of meeting you - and that was more to do with the circumstances than with who you are - I just don’t impress easily. Wait. That came out wrong.”
“No, no, you don’t find me impressive. I get it.” He pretended to pout, and Billie snorted.
“Aw, did I hurt your feewings?”
Richie nodded emphatically, and Billie beckoned him closer, Richie leaning across the counter so she could bring her lips close to his ear.
“Tough!” She giggled into his ear. “Takes more than a name to impress me, darlin’.”
As they both moved back, through some kind of chance or luck or mistake they each turned slightly, their lips brushing gently together in not-quite-a-kiss, Billie’s eyes widening at the touch. Neither of them made anything of it, though, just turning their attention back to their coffee, then their eyes met again and they both smiled silently.
They were back on the couches, talking quietly, when Richie’s cellphone rang again, and he frowned as he looked at the unfamiliar number, then shrugged and answered it anyway.
“Hello?”
“Uh, Mr Sambora?” Richie didn’t reply, and after a moment the caller seemed to understand why. “It’s Detective Kellogg.”
“Oh, hi Detective.” Richie smiled across at Billie. “What can I do for you?”
“Oh, nothing really. I just wanted to let you know that we’ve charged………our suspect…….with all the relevant crimes against Ms Kelsall.”
“And what about the other girl?” Richie asked, realising from the echoing quality of the call that the detective was in a stairwell, probably hiding out from anyone hearing her discuss the case with him.
“She brought charges, too. Lesser charges, I’m glad to say, but she still said she’ll stand up in court and say what he did.”
“Thank God for that. I’ll tell Billie.” A hesitation. “If that’s allowed?”
Leaning against the scuffed brick of the fire escape stair, the woman shrugged. “It isn’t really, but then neither is this call, so if you think it’ll help her, go ahead.”
“Okay, I will.” Glancing at Billie, Richie saw the curiousity on her face. “Where is he now?”
“Now? Oh, now he’s where he’ll stay until the trial, unless his wife posts his bond. Which seems doubtful since I hear she’s filing for divorce. He’s locked up, Mr Sambora. Tell Billie that. Tell her he can’t hurt her again.”
“I wouldn’t let him.” Richie murmured, flushing as he realised what he’d said.
He said goodbye to the cop and closed his phone, looking over at Billie until she leaned forward, gesturing for him to speak.
“C’mon, Richie - don’t make me beat it out of you! That was about Fabian, right?”
“Yes, it was.” He grinned. “It was Detective Kellogg. Her other victim agreed to testify, if she has to, and she brought more charges against him. They’ve charged him with everything he did to you, and he’s locked up until trial.” He chuckled. “Well, unless his wife posts bond for him, and since she’s apparently filing for divorce…….that ain’t happenin’!”
“Locked up?” Billie whispered, her eyes begging Richie to confirm it, her hands clasped tightly to contain the shakes that had come from nowhere.
“Locked up.” Richie confirmed, seeing her fight the reaction.
Hesitating for a moment, he got off his couch and moved to sit next to her, wrapping his arms around her shoulders, pulling her to him.
“He’s locked up, Billie. He can’t hurt you again. You’re safe. I wouldn’t ever let him hurt you again, darlin’.”
“I…….” She tried to pull out of his arms, not because she was afraid of him, but she was afraid of herself. Afraid if she allowed herself to react that she’d never stop the shaking and the tears that she could feel.
“Let it go, Billie.” Richie whispered against her hair. “It’s okay. Let it go. You need to let it out.”
A sob racked her, and the shuddering gulp for breath that followed ripped into Richie’s heart, then all he could do was hold her as Billie started to cry like she’d never stop, every tear cleansing away another fraction of what had been done to her, helping her to start healing mentally and emotionally as well as physically.
Chapter 69
Richie was in the kitchen, stacking dishes into the dishwasher, when he heard the low trill of his cellphone from the living room.
“Shit.” He muttered.
He’d forgotten he’d left it there, and he moved quickly to grab it, hoping it hadn’t disturbed Billie’s nap. It hadn’t, and he smiled at the sight of her sleeping soundly on his couch as he snatched the phone from the coffee table. The display told him it was Jon, and he flipped it open as he headed back to the kitchen, keeping his voice low.
“Hey bro.”
“Hey Rich. What’s happenin’?”
Richie blinked in some surprise. Last time he’d spoken with Jon, his friend had sounded as lost and confused as he’d ever heard him. Now, though, he sounded like a man who’d reached a decision. But about what?
“Nothin’ much here.” Richie leaned against the counter, reaching for his freshly re-filled mug of coffee. “You? You sound……better.”
Jon chuckled wryly. “Dunno ‘bout better, Rich, but I’ve finally managed to make a decision.”
“About what?” Please, please don’t let him say he’s going to try to get back with Billie. One, ‘cause I think she’ll say no - hope she’ll say no - and two because I want……I’d like to try to get to know her better.
“Dot can have the apartment. She can have the city. I’m goin’ back home. Back where I belong.”
“You’re movin’ back out to Jersey?”
“Yeah.” Jon raked a hand through his hair, then picked up his coffee, settling more comfortably back into his favorite chair. “I don’t fuckin’ belong here. I……..I was sitting looking at apartments Judy had found for me……..and I went to pour myself more wine and found I’d already sunk two bottles today. Three-o-fucking-clock and I was two bottles down.”
“And you didn’t even feel drunk?” Richie’s voice was soft and understanding. Hell, it should be - he’d been there, done that. “So you realised that just maybe there was a problem?”
“Yeah.” Jon sighed again.
“At least you realised it a damned sight quicker than I did, Jon. First step is to realise you have a problem. You don’t see the problem, you’ve no chance in hell of fixing it.”
“Yea-I-know.” Jon ran the words together before slurping coffee.
“So when you moving?”
“I packed a bag already. Dot can have Belle pack up the rest of my shit and send it out. I’m gonna call for a car, but I just wanted - needed - to tell you.” Jon gave a twisted grin that Richie obviously couldn’t see. “If you talk with Billie, you could let her know.”
“Sure, bro.” Richie spoke without thinking. “I’ll let her know when she wakes up.”
“When she……..huh?” What the fuck?
“When she wakes up.” Richie repeated, now realising how it might sound, but refusing to feel guilty for……hell, for doing nothing wrong. “She got out of hospital today, and I brought her back to my place for lunch - no sense exposing her to the fuckin’ jackals from TMZ right away. When she’s a bit stronger, sure, she’ll be able to deal with them, but right now she needs to get better without any more stress.”
“Oh.” Jon said lamely. Get a fuckin’ grip Jon! Not like Richie’s gonna do anything with her, is it? Hell, not like she’s in any condition to…….
“The getting out of hospital and all tired her out, and she’s napping on my couch.” Richie’s voice hardened a fraction. “If that’s okay with you?”
“Shit. Sorry, Rich. Of course it’s okay - I just was surprised is all. Hell, I’m glad you did that - I’ve been so wrapped up in all my own shit here, I just haven’t had - haven’t made - the time to visit her up in the hospital.”
“I know.” But Richie’s tone was calm, not censorious. “And Billie understands that, too. She’s a very cool lady.”
“That she is.” Jon agreed, then glanced at his watch. “Listen, I gotta go. I’ll talk with you later, ‘kay?”
“Sure. I’ll be here. And - for what it’s worth? I think you’ve made the right decision, to move back to Jersey.”
Ending the call, Richie laid down his phone. Was he that transparent? That Jon could tell he was interested in Billie? Nah, surely not. More like the usual Bongiovi control-freak nature was disturbed by not knowing every little detail. Well, screw that. He slugged another mouthful of coffee before walking quietly toward the living room, seeing Billie still asleep. Smiling, Richie went into the spare bedroom and grabbed the soft comforter from the bed, bringing it through and laying it gently over Billie before rescuing his coffee from the kitchen and settling himself back onto the other couch. Propping his white-socked feet on the coffee table again, he leaned his head back and closed his eyes, enjoying the silence.
Billie woke to a dim room, daylight already giving way to twilight. As her eyes adjusted, she frowned. Sure as hell wasn’t a hospital room. Then she remembered. Okay, so her memory was kick-started by the sound of soft snoring, and she twisted her head to look toward the sound, seeing Richie asleep on the next couch, an empty mug cradled against his belly. She smiled. Not only was she comfortable enough with him to fall asleep - though at least she had the excuse of post-hospital-tiredness - but he was obviously comfortable enough with her there to fall asleep himself.
She moved slightly, trying for a more comfortable position, only to realise the reason she’d woken was that her bladder was none-too-politely telling her to get up.
“Shit.” She whispered.
Richie hadn’t exactly given her the guided tour, and she’d no clue where his bathroom - or more likely bathrooms - was. She debated whether to wake him, then decided against it. Surely it couldn’t be that hard to find the bathroom? With that decision made, she eased from the couch, smiling as she folded back the thick cover which had been over her, clearly put there by Richie. Watching her path carefully, she began her search for the bathroom.
“Shit.” He muttered.
He’d forgotten he’d left it there, and he moved quickly to grab it, hoping it hadn’t disturbed Billie’s nap. It hadn’t, and he smiled at the sight of her sleeping soundly on his couch as he snatched the phone from the coffee table. The display told him it was Jon, and he flipped it open as he headed back to the kitchen, keeping his voice low.
“Hey bro.”
“Hey Rich. What’s happenin’?”
Richie blinked in some surprise. Last time he’d spoken with Jon, his friend had sounded as lost and confused as he’d ever heard him. Now, though, he sounded like a man who’d reached a decision. But about what?
“Nothin’ much here.” Richie leaned against the counter, reaching for his freshly re-filled mug of coffee. “You? You sound……better.”
Jon chuckled wryly. “Dunno ‘bout better, Rich, but I’ve finally managed to make a decision.”
“About what?” Please, please don’t let him say he’s going to try to get back with Billie. One, ‘cause I think she’ll say no - hope she’ll say no - and two because I want……I’d like to try to get to know her better.
“Dot can have the apartment. She can have the city. I’m goin’ back home. Back where I belong.”
“You’re movin’ back out to Jersey?”
“Yeah.” Jon raked a hand through his hair, then picked up his coffee, settling more comfortably back into his favorite chair. “I don’t fuckin’ belong here. I……..I was sitting looking at apartments Judy had found for me……..and I went to pour myself more wine and found I’d already sunk two bottles today. Three-o-fucking-clock and I was two bottles down.”
“And you didn’t even feel drunk?” Richie’s voice was soft and understanding. Hell, it should be - he’d been there, done that. “So you realised that just maybe there was a problem?”
“Yeah.” Jon sighed again.
“At least you realised it a damned sight quicker than I did, Jon. First step is to realise you have a problem. You don’t see the problem, you’ve no chance in hell of fixing it.”
“Yea-I-know.” Jon ran the words together before slurping coffee.
“So when you moving?”
“I packed a bag already. Dot can have Belle pack up the rest of my shit and send it out. I’m gonna call for a car, but I just wanted - needed - to tell you.” Jon gave a twisted grin that Richie obviously couldn’t see. “If you talk with Billie, you could let her know.”
“Sure, bro.” Richie spoke without thinking. “I’ll let her know when she wakes up.”
“When she……..huh?” What the fuck?
“When she wakes up.” Richie repeated, now realising how it might sound, but refusing to feel guilty for……hell, for doing nothing wrong. “She got out of hospital today, and I brought her back to my place for lunch - no sense exposing her to the fuckin’ jackals from TMZ right away. When she’s a bit stronger, sure, she’ll be able to deal with them, but right now she needs to get better without any more stress.”
“Oh.” Jon said lamely. Get a fuckin’ grip Jon! Not like Richie’s gonna do anything with her, is it? Hell, not like she’s in any condition to…….
“The getting out of hospital and all tired her out, and she’s napping on my couch.” Richie’s voice hardened a fraction. “If that’s okay with you?”
“Shit. Sorry, Rich. Of course it’s okay - I just was surprised is all. Hell, I’m glad you did that - I’ve been so wrapped up in all my own shit here, I just haven’t had - haven’t made - the time to visit her up in the hospital.”
“I know.” But Richie’s tone was calm, not censorious. “And Billie understands that, too. She’s a very cool lady.”
“That she is.” Jon agreed, then glanced at his watch. “Listen, I gotta go. I’ll talk with you later, ‘kay?”
“Sure. I’ll be here. And - for what it’s worth? I think you’ve made the right decision, to move back to Jersey.”
Ending the call, Richie laid down his phone. Was he that transparent? That Jon could tell he was interested in Billie? Nah, surely not. More like the usual Bongiovi control-freak nature was disturbed by not knowing every little detail. Well, screw that. He slugged another mouthful of coffee before walking quietly toward the living room, seeing Billie still asleep. Smiling, Richie went into the spare bedroom and grabbed the soft comforter from the bed, bringing it through and laying it gently over Billie before rescuing his coffee from the kitchen and settling himself back onto the other couch. Propping his white-socked feet on the coffee table again, he leaned his head back and closed his eyes, enjoying the silence.
Billie woke to a dim room, daylight already giving way to twilight. As her eyes adjusted, she frowned. Sure as hell wasn’t a hospital room. Then she remembered. Okay, so her memory was kick-started by the sound of soft snoring, and she twisted her head to look toward the sound, seeing Richie asleep on the next couch, an empty mug cradled against his belly. She smiled. Not only was she comfortable enough with him to fall asleep - though at least she had the excuse of post-hospital-tiredness - but he was obviously comfortable enough with her there to fall asleep himself.
She moved slightly, trying for a more comfortable position, only to realise the reason she’d woken was that her bladder was none-too-politely telling her to get up.
“Shit.” She whispered.
Richie hadn’t exactly given her the guided tour, and she’d no clue where his bathroom - or more likely bathrooms - was. She debated whether to wake him, then decided against it. Surely it couldn’t be that hard to find the bathroom? With that decision made, she eased from the couch, smiling as she folded back the thick cover which had been over her, clearly put there by Richie. Watching her path carefully, she began her search for the bathroom.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)