77 - That, Too

The night was still, but Jon’s mind was not.  There was a trickle of moonlight washing over the clearing in which the cabin sat, which was just enough for him to watch the leaves sway in their shadowy dance.  They were dark, quiet and beautiful through the full-length windows, and should have soothed him into sleep.  Instead, they merely stirred his thoughts more. 

The woman beside him commanded his attention from the woodsy night when she flipped onto her right side and peered at him through the darkness.  Upon realizing that his eyes weren’t closed, she scooted close, bringing one hand to rest upon his chest and mumble, “Baby doll, it’s two in the mornin’.  Why are you awake?”

Circling an arm around her shoulders, he hummed with satisfaction at the amount of bare skin in contact with his.  Her uninhibitedness in allowing him to touch, kiss and fondle any part of her that grabbed his attention was something he really, really liked.  It wasn’t even all about sex, because they hadn’t engaged in that kind of intimacy when coming to bed tonight.  There had been nothing more than the tangle of naked limbs lulling her into sleep and him into a contented unrest.

What he’d been doing for the last three hours, while she slept at his side, was trying to figure out his fucking life.  So far, he hadn’t made much headway.

He loved Cassidy, even though it wasn’t entirely logical since they didn’t know each other that well on a practical level.  Who knew how she would handle his crazy work bullshit, kids or family?  There was no indication as to how this might work out in the long-run, even if he were free to pursue it as a normal relationship.  She might end up with the same attitude toward him that Dorothea had, which took him off on an entirely different train of thought.   

What the hell had gotten into her?  Did she suddenly decide to develop a possessive gene after three decades?  She wasn’t normally vindictive and, on the rare occasion she was, he’d never known her to point it toward someone she didn’t even know.  When they came face to face again, the confrontation wasn’t going to be pretty and there existed the possibility that it would end with one or the other of them calling a divorce lawyer.

So much for having it all.

That realization brought with it a wave of anger because he wanted his goddamn football team.  And now that he was twelve hours away from signing ownership papers, the thought didn’t carry the thrill of excitement he had expected because of the uncertainty surrounding it.  He could be forced to sell before the ink had dried on the damn contracts.

And on and on and on went the vicious circle of ugly thoughts that Cassidy didn’t need to be subjected to, since they’d agreed she wouldn’t be involved in his decision-making.  In lieu of that, he took Libby’s advice about romance and pressed a soft kiss to her brow, whispering, “I don’t wanna miss a minute with you.”

Her sleepy chuckle washed over him like a peaceful wave, even when she asserted, “Baloney.  You’re thinkin’ about the mess with your wife and the Titans.”

“That doesn’t make what I said untrue.”

“Mm.”

His wise and beautiful fortune cookie was also very perceptive, and it was another trait that he admired.  As a show of that respect and admiration, he chose to share the one train of thought that didn’t involve his wife or football.

“Dixie.”

Copper tendrils scraped audibly against the pillow as she tilted her face to his.  “What, baby doll?”

“I don’t lead a conventional life.”

“Really?” The soft snort blew across his chest.  “You don’t work nine to five, Monday through Friday?  Home every evenin’ for dinner, mow the lawn on Saturday and two weeks’ vacation in the summer?  I thought that was standard for multi-millionaire rock stars.”

“Jesus,” he chuckled.  “You’re as feisty as Libby sometimes.”

“Who do you think taught it to her?”

Damn, she was cute, but he worried that she didn’t understand the implications of being involved with the real Jon.  Not the guy she’d met in a Tennessee bar, but the overachieving workaholic that was always looking for another opportunity to prove himself.  Whether it be with music, film, tv, philanthropy or politics, he was always on the go and, even if she didn’t seem to be the clingy type, it was still important that she know it.

“Dix,” he told her in all seriousness.  “I suck at ‘being there’.  Work is always pulling me away.  Sometimes I barely see my kids, much less my extended family.  I don’t have a regular schedule.  I can’t promise you when I’ll see you, because I won’t know.  It’s only fair that I lay those cards on the table for you.”

Jon felt her inhale and exhale at least twice before she quietly posed, “Is this your way of lettin’ me down easy?  Of breakin’ things off?”

“No.”  When she didn’t respond, he added, “I just thought you should know.  No misunderstandings and all that.”

Mind still heavily fogged with sleep, Cassidy took an unusually long time to craft her next words.  She didn’t want to chance letting muzziness speak haphazardly for her, but their intimacy here in the dead of night was inviting a conversation she’d never planned to have.

There were times when Cassidy wished she was the meek, submissive type.  There were even times when she tried to be – such as the time period between his wife’s threat and now.  In the end, though, she was unable to sit humbly by while another person scribbled, erased and remapped her future for her.

“You know,” she quietly broached.  “I really wanted to just stand to the side and mind my own business, lettin’ the chips land where they may and steppin’ around them once they did.  Unfortunately, I’ve just had the rude realization that I’m too headstrong to patently sit and wait for you to decide my fate.”

“What are you talking about?”

Carefully withdrawing from his embrace, Cassidy pushed up in the bed and drove a hand through her disheveled hair, hating to be contrary.  It wasn’t his fault that she’d had a somewhat sudden come-to-Jesus moment and, for that reason, she deliberately kept her voice amiable.  “I’d like to know what you’re thinkin’ about this whole thing.  Do I have a place in that unconventional life, regardless of the outcome with the Titans and your wife?  Or does it just depend on what happens to work out best for you?”

“Can I assume you want a place in my life?”

“You’re not a dumb man, so don’t act like one.”  A foot kicked over to his side of the bed, bumping his ankle in admonishment.  “This whole thing seems rather simple to my country mind.  Either you wanna be married and have your football team, or you want a divorce enough to sacrifice football.”

“No.”  Jon pulled himself up beside her and leaned over to flick the lamp switch.  “What I goddamn well want is to have the Titans and you.  The problem is figuring out exactly how that’s going to be possible.  You got any suggestions, fortune cookie?”

It was likely because he hadn’t been asleep, but Cassidy could hear and feel that he was getting defensive.  This could easily escalate into an argument, given half the chance, and she’d rather not see that happen.  He had to do what was best for him just like she had to do the same for herself, and all she could do was hope that those two things eventually converged. 

For now…

“No, baby doll, I don’t.  But seein’ as you were so kind to clarify what things would be like if we stay together, I’m going to return the kindness and tell you that I can’t hang around in limbo until you sort yourself out.  I’ve got to move forward with my life.”

“Oh, so we’re going to do this breakup bullshit again.”

She’d been right about the defensiveness and Cassidy laid a hand on his forearm hoping to calm him.  This wasn’t some dramatic play for attention, it was just fact.

 “Not at all.  I’d love nothing more than to continue a relationship when, or if, you find you’re in a position to do that.  In the meantime, I’m going to live my life.  There’s the woman in Harrisburg to call, the final dispensation of the gold and I’ve lived out of my savings account about as long as I’d like to.  It’s time for me to go back to work, if I can get on at the clinic again.”

His eyebrows were still drawn with discontent and surliness tinged his next question, “So you’re staying in Bumfucked, Georgia?”

Lord, give me a little patience, would You please?

“I have a house and family there.  Yes, I’m staying in Moreland.”

“Your sister doesn’t think you belong there, and you also have a house here.”

“My sister,” Cassidy huffed before registering the second part of what he’d said.  “What do you mean I have a house here?”

His chuckle was anything but amused.  “This isn’t exactly how I envisioned this going down, but here goes, anyway.  When I went to see Tully today, I bought the cabin.  That’s why he gave me the key.”

“You… bought it?  For me?”

“For us.  I like writing here.”

Lord have mercy the man had bought her a cabin.  This cabin.  With all of its memories.  The day they’d both first felt a little too much.  The night she’d come home to find him waiting for her.  All the times they’d shared in this very bed.

“I can’t decide if that’s sweet, romantic or plain stupid.”

Rubbing a hand over the right side of his face, he grumbled, “Let’s not go with stupid.”

Oh how she wanted to go with stupid, though.  What was he thinking?  He shouldn’t be buying things like cabins or houses right now.  There were more significant ways that he should be using his money.

“Aren’t you supposed to be savin’ all your pennies for a damn football team?  I have no idea how much this cost, but I’d think it was more than a pack of chewin’ gum.”

“Not much more.  It wasn’t enough to make or break the NFL deal and I was feeling…”  He scratched at his rumpled gray head and avoided her eyes.  “With things unsettled between us, I needed something tangible to hold onto, if you must know.”

Cassidy was at a loss for words.  The man who’d repeatedly shown a penchant for short, unqualified answers had just revealed something that rivaled the Calgary story for depth, as far as she was concerned.  How was she supposed to resist him? 

Lifting a light hand to cup his face, she glided a thumb along the accentuated cheekbone and shook her head at him.  “I really, really thought I didn’t have any more of my heart left to give.  Then you go and say somethin’ like that and I find another piece to hand over.  You’re killin’ me, ya know that?”

“Good,” he stated flatly.  “I’ll take any fucking advantage I can get because, when I leave here in the morning, you need to be completely infatuated with me.  Like, Charles Manson’s psycho women infatuated so you don’t ‘move on’ in a way that’s going to piss me off.”

When even something as bizarre as that made him seem more endearing, Cassidy knew she was screwed.  No matter what he decided to do, she couldn’t walk completely away, and that made him as dangerous for her as a drug addiction.  Even if his choice ended up not being a good thing for her, she would still want as much of him as she could have, whenever she could get it.

When you finally decide to love someone, you certainly do it whole hog, Glory Star.

“You know what I think?” she asked, rearranging the blankets so that she could rise to her knees and straddle his hips.  Leisurely rocking her pelvis, she meaningfully locked eyes with him and murmured, “I think we should be more interested in my current infatuation level instead of worryin’ about mornin’.”

Finally, his defensiveness faded into something softer – something much more pleasant – and Jon settled both hands around her waist with a subdued smile.  “I love Confederate fortune cookies.”

“I rather hoped you loved me,” she drawled, prompting that subdued smile to blossom beneath eyes now sparkling with affection. 

“Yeah.  That, too.”