31 - Happy Homewrecker

Cassidy rotated the water temperature in the shower all the way to hot and stripped out of her clothing while it warmed.

How could he do that?  How could he make her heart jump up into her throat and hang there like a fat bullfrog?  Why would he even suggest she could become more than temporary?  He was married for pity’s sake!  What was he going to do, keep her as a mistress on the side?

If you wanted to know that, then you shoulda asked him.

There was no reason to know.  Any scenario in which he still wore a wedding ring and she was hidden away from the world was not acceptable.  She deserved better.  Shoot, he and his wife deserved better!

Grumbling quarrelsomely, she draped a clean towel over the top of the shower wall and stepped inside, squeaking with distress when the spray scalded her.

“Dangit!” 

You think that’s hot, imagine what an adulteress’s Hell feels like.

“Oh, hush!”

An efficient flick of the wrist dialed the water back from brimstone to bearable and she stepped back under to thoroughly douse her hair. 

His confession had aggravated her, the way he killed his own soul to make sure everyone else was able to function as normal.  No wonder the damn man couldn’t write a song.  He had to be dead inside after beating his emotions down for so long!  Even when they tried to surface now, he beat them down with the distraction of sex.

It shouldn’t make her madder than a wet hen that he was stupid enough to do it, but she’d ached for the shell of a man who had been roaming this hotel suite.  Now to find out it was self-induced?  It was enough to make her want to spit fire, and yet he still thought she was his newfound source of happiness.

“Lord, I know the shower ain’t much of a fittin’ altar on which to pray, but I’m makin’ do where I stand.”  She reached for the little bottle of shampoo, squeezing a dollop in the center of her palm and working it through her hair as she continued the impromptu chat.  “Is this why I’m here?  To remind him how to be happy?  Or am I supposed to be beatin’ sense into him?  Because I’m a little confused.

“If I’m supposed to hang around and be his ‘happiness’, well…  I understand that You have a plan that’s none of my concern, and I’m willin’ to follow right along – ‘specially if it helps him – but don’t You think this might get messy?  Can’t You just find him another happiness that’s more in keepin’ with his weddin’ vows?  Don’t seem quite fair to give him somethin’ he ought not have, does it?”

“Are you praying for me?”

“Oh, hellfire and damnation!”  

With her eyes closed to the possibility of wayward shampoo suds, Jon’s voice was completely and totally unexpected.  God’s she might have expected, but Jon’s startled Cassidy so badly that she jumped and her right foot slid on the wet tile, and she was forced to helplessly flail her hands until one connected with the shower wall.   Leaning heavily into it so that she wouldn’t fall, she mentally apologized to God for the swearing and turned a perturbed eye on her bathroom intruder.

“Shit!  Are you okay?”  The concern was immediate and she saw that he was ready to snatch open the door to swoop in and rescue her if it was necessary, but Cassidy waved him away with a frown of pique.

“I’m fine except for a mild cardiac episode, thankyaverymuch.”

“Sorry,” he apologized, retreating from the steamed enclosure.  “I came into the bedroom for a shirt and heard you talking.  Singing I would’ve expected, but not talking, so I stuck my head in.”

Of course he had.  Why wouldn’t he?  Things couldn’t get any weirder today.

Could they?

She sighed before tipping her head to rinse away the shampoo.  “Yes,” Cassidy replied to his original question over the sound of the water.  “I was prayin’ for you.  Somebody obviously needs to.”

His laughter was surprising and she turned her head to squint one eye at him.  Still wearing only his unbuttoned jeans – and now a smile – he was sitting on the vanity with his feet dangling while he watched her shower.   

The man had zero interest in personal space, which she’d found odd in the beginning.  He’d initially been so self-contained that she would’ve assumed he was the type to have sex and retreat back into his shell.  The open intimacy he’d exhibited was a far cry from that, but Cassidy was good with it.  She had actually come to like the absence of boundaries.

 

“What’s so funny?”  The inquiry was bland as she continued to work the suds out of her hair and then reached for the conditioner.

“Nothing, really.  Just can’t remember the last time somebody prayed for me.  Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, I guess.”  The conditioner was worked through wet tresses as her curiosity ate at her.  Did she ask or didn’t she?  Cassidy reached for the little bar of soap and a washcloth as the debate continued and, when the soap was put back into the dish, she mopped the washcloth over her chest and shoulders.  She might regret it, but she was going to do it anyway.  “Can I ask you something?”

“I gave you my guts already.  Anything else is just trivia, so go ahead.”

“That thing you just said in the other room.”  She bent to swish the soapy rag over her feet and legs.  “My curiosity is gettin’ the best of me, and I have to ask…”  Straightening again, she looked toward his steamy silhouette.  “How is it you envision me as more than temporary?”

The washcloth got swiped up and down her arms, then under, as she focused on something other than being over-interested in his response.

“I dunno,” was his quiet confession as she put aside the cloth and began to rinse.  “I can’t figure out a good way to make it happen, but I also can’t seem to stop myself from thinking about it.”

He’d been thinking about it.  He’d been trying to figure out a good way to make it happen, which implied even more thinking.  Both were a great compliment and her stomach did an excited flip at “just being nominated”.

The water flow was cranked to a halt and she reached for the towel, scrubbing it over her face and hair.

“Now let me ask you a question, Cassidy.”

“Alright.”  She bent at the waist, dragging the towel slowly up each leg. 

“If I come up with a way to make it happen, is it something you would consider?”

Talk about being put on the spot.  He’d basically asked her to consider being a full-time dirty secret, hadn’t he?  How was she expected to answer that?

You started this chat. You better figure out somethin’. 

Cassidy wrapped the towel around her body, knotting the ends between her breasts before opening the shower door.  Mind still whirling, she exited and stood quietly on the bath mat while they watched one another – he for a hint of what her answer might be, she for a sign of divine intervention. 

“In the vein of there-“

“Being no misunderstanding,” Jon joined in with a smile.

“Yeah, that,” she concurred with a responding smile.  “Let’s just call a spade a spade.  Are you talkin’ about makin’ me your mistress in the traditional sense of the word?”

His beautifully etched smile melted into neutrality.  “Yes.”

A mistress.  A bought and paid for mistress. 

Her MeMaw just turned over in her grave, prompting the answer Cassidy’s heart had known all along – even while she was busy being flattered that Jon wanted to keep her.

“Oh, baby doll, you’re cute as a bug’s ear, but you really are a special kinda stupid.”

“Keep sayin’ that and you’re gonna piss me off,” he nonchalantly warned and extended a hand to beckon one of hers.  “You told me to find happiness.  That’s you.  What would make me a ‘special kind of stupid’ is being anxious to give that up.”

“Honey,” She furnished the requested hand and stepped between his knees in response to the ensuing tug on her arm.  “Rewind and replay the discussion we had about me goin’ to your house.  I know it doesn’t seem like it, but I do have some morals.  Bein’ an aberration to help you get through your writin’ is one thing.  Sittin’ around twiddlin’ my toes while you’re with your family is…  Well, let’s just say one weekend of it was enough.  I’m not that girl.”

“Cassidy,” Jon settled his hands at the small of her back and angled his neck so that their foreheads rested against one another.  “I am a very stubborn man.  Lack of a ‘formal’ arrangement isn’t going to stop me from seeking you out.”

“Jon, I’m a Southern woman.  We wrote the book on stubborn.”

He retreated just far enough to angle his head and deliver a comfortable, unhurried kiss.  “Then we’ll agree to disagree for now.  One more question before I drop it, though.”

She enjoyed kissing him quite a lot and stole another before acquiescing, “Alright.”

“In the interest of there being no misunderstanding.”  His wink was affectionately flirtatious.  “Your only objection is that I’m married.  Otherwise, you’d agree to continuing a relationship with me.”

Her stomach lurched.  Was Jon now implying that he wanted her enough to change his situation?

Careful, girl.  This is sheerly hypothetical.  Don’t go gettin’ that “Happy Homewrecker” t-shirt just yet.

“I’m gonna be honest with ya, since that’s really all I know to be,” she ventured slowly.

“It was too much to hope for a simple ‘yes’, wasn’t it?”

“Ain’t nothin’ simple about relationships, honey.”  She chuckled quietly, brushing the hair away from his eyebrows.  “You’re a devastatingly attractive man and I knew the sex would be good.  What I didn’t expect was to be invited back, to want to come back, and to get to know you as a person instead of a name.  To care about you.”

His head skewed arrogantly to one side with a smug grin that said he knew just how irresistible he could be, and that he was surprised she’d resisted this long.  “Soundin’ like a yes to me.”

Arrogant or not, his eyes spoke of the very happiness she’d told him to find.  Why was she fighting so diligently to burst his bubble?  What was the point in finishing out the painful spiel that said he didn’t know her?  That all he did know was that they had fantastic sex and he could write music in the afterglow? 

Is this what she needed to do to keep herself distanced?  Or was she just being cruel? 

He’s never going to not be married, so give him a firm maybe and move on. 

“Yanno,” she murmured against his lips before pressing another kiss there and taking a step back.  “It kinda does sound like a yes.  Now let me get dressed in peace.”

“Dixie?” She had just crossed into the bedroom when the softly imploring nickname met her ears, and Cassidy paused to see what else he might want.  “I care about you, too.”

Hands that had been lightly keeping the towel knot at her breasts secure now dug into the white terrycloth and her eyes fluttered shut for an instant. 

Lord, he owns enough hearts.  Please don’t let him work his way around to takin' mine.