29 - Didn't Mean to Miss Your Birthday

Peace.

Jon had peace.

With Cassidy curled into his side and using his shoulder for a pillow, the melodies began building in his head.  While she stroked the lower part of his stomach, he could hear the keyboards.  When her foot dragged along his shin, the guitars and the beat of the bass drum made themselves known. 

Once again, his inspiration was back from the mysterious place that it vanished to when she wasn’t around. 

He could fall in love with this woman.

Gratitude and relief don’t add up to love.

“Hey.”  Jon languidly boosted his shoulder to give her a nudge.  “That song wasn’t on my list.”

The giggle against his chest was feminine, but not girlish, and laced with enough sultry honey to be all woman.  “Call me an overachiever.”

He liked overachievers.  Hell, he was an overachiever but she had pretty well ruined “Lay Your Hands on Me” for him.  He might never be able to sing the damn thing again without getting a hard-on. 

“Okay, overachiever.  Think you can find some harmony on it or are you strictly a lead porn vocalist?”

The quiet giggle erupted into a full and delighted laugh.  “Porn vocalist?  Aren’t they limited to 'ooh', 'aah' and 'ohmigod'?”

“I would think so, but you damn overachievers take it to another level.”

“I guess we do,” she agreed with humor, settling back into his shoulder.  “Harmony shouldn’t be a problem.”

Good.  Because the truth was that it would be an entirely different version of the song.  The fans might love it – or they may treat it with the same huge dose of disdain they’d given This Left Feels Right.  Either way, Jon thought it was something he wanted to record with her tomorrow.  At least it wouldn’t smack of Richie, who had taken it as his signature song for almost an entire tour.

Don’t disrupt your peace with that.

But what if it could make his peace more permanent?  You couldn’t win until you weren’t afraid to lose and all that jazz.  Wasn’t it worth the risk of opening himself up to see if the Southern fortune cookie might have some sage wisdom to put things in perspective?

“Some women might take it as an insult, you tensin’ up so tight after bein’ with ‘em.”  Her voice was as soft as her hand, which had gone back to petting his stomach. 

Jon dropped a smiling kiss to the top of her head, enjoying her touch.  “Are you insulted?”

“Nah.  I figure it’s got more to do with you than it does me.”

Beautiful, talented, self-confident and intelligent.  She might just be…  What was that they said?  All that and a bag of chips?  Whatever the hell that meant.

“You figure right.”

He felt her cheek slide against his shoulder when she glanced up.  “I can’t say as I’ve seen the full job description of a muse.  If there doesn't happen to be anything in there about lendin' a friendly ear, I'd be happy to do it on a volunteer basis."

She had opened the door so he didn’t have to find a way to bring up the subject.  If he was going to talk to her, this was the time to do it.  Still…  He wasn’t exactly ready to reach out and embrace the opportunity with both arms just yet.  Maybe a nice firm handshake, though.   

As soon as they went through the fine print. 

“I don’t keep mistresses,” he informed her quietly, deciding this was the best place to start.  “I never have.  Your presence in my hotel room for the past week is a very big deal in my world.  The fact that I am inclined to share something extremely personal with you, when I haven’t been tempted to share jack shit with anyone during the past two years, is an even bigger deal.”

Cassidy extracted herself from his loose embrace and pushed into a seated position.

Unless she was gravely mistaken, he was moving away from a casual cuddly chat into something more serious.  If he was finally going to open up and share some of what troubled him, she wanted to make it obvious that she appreciated the magnitude of it by offering him her full attention.  She was still naked, but at least she could now watch his face as he spoke.

“I’d like to accept your offer of a friendly ear," he continued.  "But before I do, it’s vital that you understand – implicitly tell me you understand – that our relationship is strictly between you and me.  To the extreme of doctor/patient or lawyer/client confidentiality.  Not another goddamn soul is to know what we share behind closed doors.”

His omission of the obvious husband/wife confidentiality was immediately noted, but she couldn’t say it surprised her.  Cassidy should probably be grateful that he didn't bring marriage into this adulterous conversation.

“I’ve understood that from the beginnin’.”

“You’re gonna have to forgive me for the overkill here,” Jon apologized.  “But trust isn’t something I give lightly, Dixie.  If you didn’t have it, you wouldn’t have been here past the first orgasm.  Even so, there’s trust and there’s TRUST.  I need your word that you will not betray mine for any reason.”

There was suddenly a pain that hit her behind the sternum and zipped directly down to the pit of her stomach with an acidic splash.  Confidentiality was one thing, and she had absolutely no problem guaranteeing that, but then the blasted man had to go and start throwing words around like trust. 

Trust. 

He wanted her to swear on a stack of Bibles all the way to the ceiling that she wouldn’t betray his trust.

He means not to repeat what he’s gonna tell you.  It has nothin’ to do with your problems.

Being nit-picky didn’t change the definition of the word.  Trust was trust just like dead was dead, and she couldn’t promise him what he asked.  Not when she’d essentially been betraying him since day one. 

“Cassidy?”

Duckfeathers.

He’d reverted from Dixie to Cassidy.  Not a good sign.

She reached for his hand and folded it hers, connecting their eyes with what she hoped was a look of intense sincerity.  “I will never betray your confidence, baby doll.  Ever.” 

That she could promise with a clear conscience and, since that’s really what he was after, she should feel good about it.  Right? 

If only.

“In fact…”  Cassidy stuttered and then sighed.  “There's something extremely personal that I'd be willing to share with you, too.  You know, to help even the scales?  I realize the tabloids won’t pay for the chance to publish it, but it’s... significant.” 

His eyebrow lifted curiously.  “Oh yeah?  Might make me feel as though you're equally invested in this.”

“I assure you that that I am equally invested.”  Her thumb massaged its way across the palm of his hand, as her mind caught up to what she'd just committed herself to.  

Now what are you gonna tell him?  You can’t just spill your guts with everything.  He didn’t ask to be a part of your problems.

No, he hadn't asked  and she wasn't going to dump them on his head.  The only requirement was that it be something of significance and there were plenty of significant pieces to choose from.  It was simply a matter of deciding which piece.

A loud knock at the door saved her from having to make that decision in this instant, but it also had Jon looking at the clock and frowning with annoyance. 

“Dammit, I forgot,” he grumbled, throwing a glance in her direction.  “I’m guessing you don’t want to answer the door?”

“Uh…” Cassidy’s eyes widened with surprise, and she immediately reached for her cast-aside clothing.  “I can if you want me to?”

While she’d been scrambling for her clothes, he had gone to the living room for his, and now returned.  The zipper of his jeans had just rasped to a close when he nodded with satisfaction.  “I’d appreciate that.”

Fortunately, workout clothes went on easily and she pushed a hand through her hair in an effort to restore some type of order there.   The second knock came at the door as she slipped by him with a look of censure.  “This is weird, by the way.  Havin’ your dirty little secret answer your door.” 

Jon’s eyes twinkled and he took a wide stance in the bedroom doorway, folding arms over his bare chest while offering her a smug little grin. 

She’d answer his door all damn day to see his biceps bulge like that.  Oh yeah, and the happy sparkle, too.

“Maybe a little weird,” was all Jon would concede as she approached the door.

Still thinking it incredibly odd, she frowned at him over her shoulder and pulled at the handle. 

“Hello.”  A hotel employee turned to face her with an attentively polite smile to accompany the cordial greeting.  “I have a delivery for Cassidy Starr.”

He held aloft a box that was about the size of a toaster, wrapped with baby blue and white gingham paper and tied with a bright red bow.  Tucked under the ribbon, she could see that there was an also an envelope affixed, and her name was emblazoned on the outside of it in a masculine script.

“I’ll take it, thank you.” 

When she accepted the package that was dressed suspiciously like a gift, she spotted something else in the middle of the red bow.  There, like a glittery little enhancement, was a miniature ruby slipper just like Dorothy had worn in The Wizard of Oz.  It had her reevaluating the overall appearance of the package and identifying the paper as the same pattern Dorothy’s dress, with the red ribbon taking poetic license to portray the ones Dorothy wore in her hair. 

Cassidy thanked the deliveryman and closed the door before turning to address Jon.  “What is this?”

“Hell if I know,” he lied through his picture-perfect teeth.  He knew exactly what it was.  Cassidy could see it in the way his eyes glimmered with anticipation.    “Maybe the card says something.”

Her eyes narrowed as she shifted the box to one hand, and she pointed an accusatory finger in his direction.  “You’re dumber’n a wet box of rocks if you think I believe that.”

“Cards do traditionally say something.”  The words were pure, arrogant sarcasm and they fit him to a tee.  “I don’t see what’s not to believe.”

“Hush,” she ordered without rancor, unable to contest the logic as she edged around the coffee table to perch on one of the sofa cushions.  The adjacent one was given a pat of invitation.  “And come sit with me while I read the damn card.”

He came to sit, as ordered, but not beside her.  Instead, he sat in one of the golden beige armchairs perpendicular to her seat.  From figurative throne, he leaned back and crossed his legs to watch as the tape holding the envelope was gently removed.  She didn’t want to tear the wrapping just yet. 

Cassidy then slid a finger under the envelope flap and pulled out the contents.  It was not a card, which she should’ve guessed due to the pliability of the envelope, but a sheet of paper, and she unfolded it with barely suppressed curiosity. 

There was only a smattering of handwritten words there and they took only seconds to skim.  When she didn’t believe what they said, she read them again – this time more slowly and with a monumental lump in her throat.

You deserve frivolous things.  Happy late birthday.

 ♫

There was no reason for her to unwrap the box because Cassidy would bet her entire family fortune that there was a pair of ruby slippers tucked inside the pretty gingham paper.  The only thing she didn’t know was why.

“Why in the world would you do that?” she sniffled, willing the water pooling in her eyelids to stay there.  This was not sweet.  This was not sentimental.  This had no hidden meaning.  It just… was.

Jon didn’t answer the question. He just gruffly commanded, “Open it.”

“I kinda hate to tear it up, it’s so pretty.”

“Jesus.”  The groan of exasperation was spiked with laughter.  “It’s just paper.”

“Oh, wait.” Her phone was still on the sofa where she’d tossed it when he arrived, so she leaned to the side and scooped it up.  “I’ll take a picture to remember it by.”

“How ‘bout you remember it by what’s inside?”

She ignored his dry sarcasm, even though absently noting that he was more sarcastically proficient than she would have expected.  The phone’s camera was called up with a tap or two, and she used it to snap photos from a couple of different angles until she was satisfied that she’d done it justice.  Back to the sofa the phone went, and then then she carefully pulled one end of the ribbon to untie the bow.  The miniature slipper was freed and set reverently aside so that the paper could be peeled away. 

Just as she’d suspected, a shoe box was revealed.

It didn’t matter that she knew what was inside.  Didn’t matter that she’d seen Dorothy’s slippers a gajillion times.  When she lifted the lid from that box and folded back the tissue paper, Cassidy couldn’t have stopped the overwhelmed gasp if her life had depended on it. 

“Oh, honey,” she breathed, lifting one jewel encrusted stiletto and turning it over and over in her hands to inspect it from every possible angle.  “I simply couldn’t imagine anything makin’ me happier than I am right now.”

“Try ‘em on.” 

He was still going with the gruff hard-ass routine but, when she looked in his direction, she found that he was a million miles away from looking like a hard-ass.  His smile was gentle as he watched her, those beautiful blue eyes of his were filled with amused affection, and…

Well, in that moment, she knew she was going to have to beg David Bryan's forgiveness.  He'd been promised that Cassidy's heart wasn't involved in this arrangement, but that was no longer the case.  Jon may had just carved his initials into it.

Very lightly, but they were carved there nonetheless.

Shaking the thought away, she pushed her toes into the closed-toe stiletto pump, thrilled beyond all reason when it fit like Cinderella’s – Dorothy’s – slipper.  The mate was quickly pulled from the box to grace her other foot and Cassidy was immediately up on her feet, twirling jubilantly in the magnificent shoes. 

When she had danced all the way around the coffee table, she executed a slightly off-kilter pirouette beside his chair, helpless to keep from grinning at him like a loon.  That grin was the only warning he got before she performed a ruby pivot and dropped her bottom in his lap.  Her arms lapped around his neck and Cassidy scissor-kicked her legs in the air like an excited teenager, utterly enchanted with the way her beautiful shoes caught the light.

Jon’s arms cinched around her waist so that she didn’t go tumbling and he returned her grin with only slightly less zeal.  “I guess they’re okay, then?”

“Oh, baby doll.”  Her words were no more than a whisper of air as she turned her face to his.  “They’re so perfect than I can never thank you enough.  Can never repay you for the happiness you’ve given a grownup little girl.”

Jon slowly blinked twice over the space of a good ten seconds before giving a single shake of his head.  “I could get you a hundred pairs and it wouldn’t be enough to repay what you give me.  I’m just glad you like them.  Very glad.”