65 - The Landing's a Bitch

“Damn you.”  Cassidy pushed herself upright in the bed, thumping a closed fist against his shoulder as she sat up.  “No, it wasn’t a good idea!”

“Hey!”  His forehead puckered with bewildered surprise and Jon followed her lead, shoving himself up against the pillows so that he was on the same level as she.  “I thought…  Well, fuck.  I thought we were having some kind of moment.  Ever since I got here tonight…  I…  Shit.  Am I that far out of touch with reality?”

God help her, but she wanted to cry.  He had given her a moment that most women would dream of and it was all she could do not to sob over her shattered fairytale.  This was why she didn’t indulge in such tomfoolery.  The flight from Fantasy Land to Reality was a bumpy one, and the landing was a bitch. 

In the morning, she would’ve been prepared for that crash landing with her flotation device, oxygen mask and all that other paraphernalia.  She would have braced herself for impact and been just fine.  But now, as unprotected as a turtle without its shell…

She dug hard fingertips into corners of her eyes and slumped against the headboard.  The chill of the leather-like surface sucked away the remaining warmth of her fantastical sunshine and that, too, made her want to cry.

“Tell me what’s wrong, goddammit!”  He was understandably frustrated, and she couldn’t even blame him.  She was equally frustrated and had no idea how to tell him why without sounding psychotically delusional.

“You ruined perfection,” she murmured from behind eyelids still locked down with her fingertips.    

“How the hell did I do that?”

Hands falling to her lap, she pinned him with a narrowed glare.  “Stop swearin’ at me.”

“Make some fucking sense, and I might.”

“Oh, for God’s sake!”  She flicked the covers back in helpless exasperation and her feet slid to the floor so that she might circle around the end of the bed and unzip her suitcase.  What she was looking for, she had no idea, but it was something to keep her hands busy and her mind free of irrational tears.  “We both knew what we were feelin’ a week ago.  Why did you have to say it and ruin everything?  Tonight of all nights, when everything was picture-perfect beautiful?  Why?”

“Cassidy, stop.”  Having also risen, his voice came from directly beside her and Jon reached to still hands that agitatedly rifled through her clothes without purpose.  Taking them gently in his, he guided her into his chest and folded strong arms around her to whisper, “Nothing is ruined.  Everything is still picture-perfect.  The only difference is that I’m owning my feelings – all of them.”

“No, you silly man,” she disputed and her forehead fell dejectedly against his shoulder.  “The difference is that we now have to deal with the reality of what those feelin’s mean.  It’s no longer a matter of me doin’ what I do for the pleasure of seein’ you happy.  It’s no longer a matter of casual comin’s and goin’s or bein’ together just because it feels good.”

“Sure it is.  A couple of words don’t change any of that.  Not really.”

God bless his optimistic heart.  His visions might not be colored with flower-filled meadows and mythical beauty, but he was still claiming his own idyllic indulgence.   

“The words change everything, Jon.  Now I have to start worryin’ over what my place is in your life and figure out how to live some damn secret existence if I want to keep that place.”  Lifting her head, she looked up to meet his eyes.  “I have to wonder which mornin’ you’ll wake up and choose not to love me, like you did your wife.”

When he had vague feelings for her, she didn’t have to wonder whether they would someday fade away.  It was assumed that they would and that was okay.  They’d still be fond friends who shared a meal every couple of years. 

The “L” word implied something more permanent – like forever.

In her mind, it did, anyway.  There was only one occasion in which she had directed that word toward a man and she was a foolish sixteen year old girl at the time.  Ever since then, she’d given that simple four-letter emotion the respect it deserved, even while the rest of the world was throwing it around like confetti.

She deserved the same respect.

Jon’s sigh was bone-deep and weary.  “Come back to bed and we’ll talk.”

“I don’t want to talk,” she refused bitchily, hating the way she sounded, but knowing it was the only way to combat the tears that were trying to build again.  “That was the whole friggin’ point.  I just wanted to lay there, basking in the damn afterglow of makin’ love, and dream things that only little girls have a right to dream.  For one damn night I didn’t want to be the responsible adult.”

Jon had no idea how in the hell a confession of his feelings had turned into this logic-defying clusterfuck.  He’d thought she would be… happy?  Maybe?  He’d even entertained the idea that she might return the sentiment, yet here she was all bent out of shape because he ruined some kind of daydream?

It made no fucking sense to him because, Jesus Christ, he was bad with this touchy-feely shit.  That’s why things had gone south when he first discovered those unlabeled feelings. 

No, Jon was the guy who systematically worked his way through a problem one step at a time until a solution presented itself.   Emotions weren’t part of the deal and he personally thought they made most problems more complicated.   He had no idea how to maneuver around them to find rationality.

However, Cassidy wasn’t the kind of woman who had an undue flair for the dramatic.  Hell, she was the polar opposite of that, never displaying anything other than a calm serenity or down-to-earth common sense.  That made her anxiety a big fucking deal here, and he couldn’t gloss over it. 

Even if he wanted to, she had repeatedly opened her arms and offered him unconditional sanctuary from his demons.  He owed her and Jon took that shit very seriously, so he was going to step up and give her what she seemed to want.  He would put aside his problem solving, hard-ass personality and be softer than life had made him.

“Come to bed, baby,” he coaxed, pressing his lips tenderly to her forehead.  “We’ll pretend I didn’t say anything and be two smitten kids building castles in the clouds.  No responsible adults in sight.  We’ll dream out loud and love without reservation because tomorrow will never come.  Tonight is infinite.”

“You’re makin’ fun of me.”

“No,” he disputed the muttered accusation.  “I’m trying to make it better, because I fucking hate it when you’re not happy.”

Arms that had been hanging at her sides snaked around him to squeeze tight, and she buried her face in his bare chest without saying anything.  That was fine.  He was content enough to hold her like this for a few minutes if that’s what she wanted. 

Jon gently propped his chin on the top of her head, wondering how long he could stay before Dorothea caused problems.  She had finally been agreeable enough to his coming out tonight, but when he’d suggested it might be an all-nighter…  Basically, she’d issued a silent “it better not be” with her eyes. 

He figured he had a few more hours, anyway, he decided as Cassidy sniffled.

Sniffle?

He pulled away to find that her eyes were watery – not really crying, just teary.  “Now what?”

Sniffling again, she shook her head.  “It’s nothin’.  Clearly, I’ve been under more stress than I realized, because your… kindness hit a tender spot.  That’s all.”

Kindness.  Had he been such a selfish prick that a nice gesture was so momentous?  Or…

“In woman-speak, does that translate to you realizing I might actually mean those words you didn’t want me to say?”

Cassidy sheepishly ducked her chin, embarrassed that his simply-stated wish for her happiness had been what validated his profession of love.  There hadn’t been a man who went out of his way for her happiness… ever.  None that mattered, anyway. 

“Yes.”

A masculine knuckle tucked beneath Cassidy’s chin, angling her face so that she was looking directly into earnest blue irises.  “Baby, I’m not a romantic guy but I’m also not a bullshitter, and it’s been years since I had any interest in blowing sunshine up anybody’s ass.  Anything I say, I mean.  Now, get your ass back in the bed.  We have castles to build.”

The rays of Utopian sunshine once again warmed her bones. 

She would slay dragons for this man.  The need to protect him from himself had been there from that very first day, but now that he…  Now that…

Cassidy couldn’t even finish the thought.  It was too overwhelming.

“What kinda castles we gonna build?” she inquired, crawling on hands and knees to her half of the bed, where she flipped onto her side so that they faced one another when he joined her.

“Any kind you want.  Big ones, little ones, jewel-encrusted ones.  You like diamonds?”

Shamelessly indulging in the comfortable intimacy and the languid fingers working through her hair, Cassidy hummed with contentment and mentally locked out the rest of the world.  “They’re okay.”

“You like rubies better?  Emeralds?”

She couldn’t say she’d ever been the type to go google-eyed over any kind of jewelry.  That didn’t mean she couldn’t appreciate a beautiful piece, but diamonds weren’t this girl’s best friend.

“I’m more particular about the sentiment than the stone.  Necklace made outta gum wrappers, pop top ring, aluminum foil Wonder Woman bracelet – I have all those in my jewelry box at home and they’re more precious than anything Cartier has to offer because my little girl made ‘em for me.”

Brushing a floppy lock of hair away from Jon’s forehead, she pressed against the lines of concentration there and smoothed them away while he silently watched.  His eyes glanced up to the mop of hair that was probably a fright, and back down to her eyes, where he divided his attention by focusing on one and then the other. 

“I’d like to meet Calliope and Libby.” 

Cassidy’s hand stilled on his forehead.  That had nothing to do with jewel-encrusted castles.  In fact, it sounded a whole lot like the reality that she was shunning for the night.

“Stop,” he ordered quietly, retrieving her still hand and pressing a kiss to the knuckles.  “I’m talking some vague day in the future, when the planets come into perfect alignment.  Not tomorrow.”

“In that case, I’m sure they’d like to meet you, too.”

Libby would, for sure, if for no other reason than his celebrity status.  Calliope wasn’t old enough to be overwhelmed by who Jon was, but she would be curious about any man whom her mother introduced because there had never been one before.  Cassidy had purposely sheltered her daughter from the handful of men she dated, but Calliope was an adult now and didn’t need that kind of protection.

I’m the one who needs protectin’.

“So this castle,” Jon tangled his legs with hers and carried on their round of make-believe while he stroked a toe along her calf.  “I get that we’re building it on a cloud, but what state is under that cloud?  Georgia?  New Jersey?”

Pulling her mind away from weighty things like the man she cared for asking to meet her family, Cassidy thoughtfully pet the coarse silver hair that blanketed his pectorals.  “It’s just a cloud, floatin’ around in the sky.”

“Would you mind if that cloud settled over New Jersey?”

One side of her mouth kicked up with amusement.  He sucked at avoiding reality. 

“In the interest of there bein’ no misunderstandin’,” she drawled.  “Are you askin’ me to move to New Jersey when my family matters are resolved?”

“Yes.”

Damn.  He could do more to her with a single word than any other man could with enough words to fill War and Peace.

“And you’d like me to move so that things would be more convenient for you.”

A warm palm followed the swell of her curves, coasting from waist to hip as he charmed her with a smile.  “You say ‘convenient for me’, I say we get more nights like this.”

More nights that he was watching the clock, counting down the hours and minutes until he had to return home to his wife and family.  His wife and family did not belong on their cloud.

“Tennessee would be a good spot,” she diverted.  “Say, right over a professional football field.  How’s that comin’ along?  Any more progress?”

His bright, dancing eyes were Cassidy’s reward for compromise.  “It’s pretty much a go.  The lawyers are going to draw up the papers and we’ll likely sign by the end of the week.  I’ll be a fucking pauper, but I’ll be a pauper with a football team.”

“That’s just a temporary setback, baby doll.  It won’t take more’n a year or two before you recoup your money and starting multiplyin’ it.”

“That’s the plan.”

Companionable silence fell gently over the two of them as he presumably contemplated his reign as Titans owner, and she…  She lived in the moment, drinking him in and savoring both the physical and the emotional connection that had been forged tonight.

“She didn’t want my love.”

Confusion brought Cassidy’s eyebrows down low as she tried to correlate that thought to football.  “Excuse me?”

“My wife,” he clarified softly.  “She loves my house, cars, kids, money… her volunteer work and maybe the guy down the street for all I know.  But she lost interest in loving me, or having my love, a long time ago.  That’s why I stopped choosing to love her.”   

It was all delivered very matter-of-factly, without a hint of sadness or remorse, but how could he not harbor some type of sorrow?  With that piled on top of everything else he’d been dealing with in the past couple of years, it was no wonder the poor man had been depressed.

But he’s not now.

Cupping his cheek, she relished the prickle of his evening whiskers against her palm as she caressed his face. 

“I’ve waited almost forty-two years to give a man my love, so I suspect it’s gonna belong to him for the rest of my life.  You can damn sure bet I’ll want his for that long, too.”

Brilliant white teeth bared in a grin as wide as his face and his voice lightly sang with pleasure when prompting, “In the interest of there being no misunderstanding…”

“In the interest of there bein’ no misunderstandin’,” she parroted through her own grin and leaned forward to softly touch her lips to his.  “I love you, Jon.”