Chapter 73

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.