73 - Tranquility

Sheridan toyed with the elegantly eclectic choker at her throat, admiring the handiwork of Jon’s assistant.   The monotony of a simple strand of pearls was broken by the occasional ivory bead tucked between every fifth and sixth pearl.  What gave that ivory bead its eclectic twist was the fact that it was carved into a tiny skull.

It wasn’t obvious unless you looked closely, and that positively delighted Sheridan.  What could be a more perfect compromise between her classically elegant public face and the sex kitten diva that ventured out only behind the closed door of a rock star’s bedroom?

Necklace and matching earrings in place, she twisted a stubborn tendril of hair around her finger and sprayed it, giving it the faintest illusion of being curled.  Shaking her head, the mass of blonde waves slithered into an artfully disheveled cascade.  It didn’t particularly suit her classically tailored look, but when Jon had noticed that she was pinning her hair up, he’d frowned and shook his head.

Seeing as she had practically dictated his wardrobe for the ceremony – right down to the socks – she put the pins away.  Her reward had been a very naughty promise in the eyes of her soon-to-be husband.

I’m getting married in an hour.

That life changing acknowledgement should be more unnerving.  Anyone with the sense God gave a goose would be running scared about now, but not Sheridan.  Jon had worked his ass off helping her get to the pool of serenity that lay beyond that ocean of fear and, at this point, marrying him felt like the most natural thing in the world.

That’s not to say she wouldn’t be suffering from a bout of pregnancy-induced panic tomorrow, depending on what new information she stumbled across, but for now…  She was at peace with her poppy seed and he was the one who’d held her hand while she got there.

She grinned.

At the risk of getting sliced to ribbons by a seizure-riddled cat. 

A final swipe of lip gloss and she bent forward to peer into the bathroom mirror for a closer inspection of her makeup.  Foundation smoothed out the appearance of her skin and the bit of afternoon sun that kissed her cheeks had rendered blusher unnecessary.  Eyeliner and mascara had been applied with a bit heavier hand than usual, but she was pleased with the effect.   

Nodding at her reflection with approval, she picked up the tube of lotion from the vanity and squeezed a dollop onto her fingertips.  The champagne shimmer was applied liberally over chest and shoulders, which were left bare by the strapless ivory gown that had been waiting for her at Chanel.  There was something very Marilyn Monroe about it and she had instantly fallen in love with the elegant simplicity of the A-line dress.

An experimental twirl on the toe of her sling-back Jimmy Choo sandals had the gently flared, chiffon hem tickling the back of her calves.  The shiny stones winked across the tops of her freshly pedicured feet, courtesy of the spa time provided by her thoughtful fiancé.  The nails shone a glossy, fire-engine red, the same shade as her newly-painted fingertips. 

A demure French-manicure probably would have been more appropriate, but Jon liked her blood red nails – and the way she used them.  He had told her that on multiple occasions and, honestly, she wanted to please him.

Never had she leaned so heavily on another person as she had this man in the last few days.  He’d stood unwaveringly by, letting her work through her issues, helping where he could and holding her when he couldn’t.  She appreciated it more than he could possibly imagine, but it was time to gather her gumption about her and stop using him as a crutch.  He deserved a wife that could stand on her own two feet firmly enough to be his crutch when he needed one. 

There would be no more ‘woe is me’ moments from Sheridan. 

Smooth sailing.  Tranquil seas.  This I vow to you, Mr. Bongiovi.

She wiggled her toes with excitement.  It wasn’t time for the ceremony just yet, but she thought it might be time to voice her commitment. 

§§§

“Very handsome.”

Securing the final loop of a Windsor knot on his black silk tie, Jon’s lips tipped up into a sinful smirk as he met her eyes in the floor-length mirror.

“Seems only fair,” he remarked mildly, dipping his head to piece together the cuff of the ivory shirt’s left sleeve and secure it with a cufflink that matched the skulls in Sheridan’s necklace and earrings.  “You’re abso-fucking-lutely gorgeous.  I can’t have you outshining me in the wedding pictures.”

Even as she called him a doofus her cheeks glowed pink with the compliment.  He was getting good at this romantic shit, he thought, fastening his other cuff before turning to her with a smile. 

“You about ready?” he asked, reaching for the suit jacket that was the same pitch-black as his pants and tie.

“I’m ready, but can we wait a few minutes to leave?”

Pushing back his sleeve, he flipped his wrist around to check the time.   It was half past five and the chapel ceremony was scheduled for six, so they were still good on time.

“Yeah, sure.  Some certain reason you want to wait?”

She tilted her head toward the suite’s living room, a gentle smile tugging at her mouth.  “I thought you might like to unwrap that big shiny thing I brought along.”

“Hmm…”  He skated an open palm from the ball of her shoulder to the Possession bracelet at her wrist, reveling in the goose bumps that sprang to life with his touch.   “I’d rather unwrap you, but seeing as that’s out of the question for another hour or so…  Sure.  I’m intrigued.”

As she pulled him along after her, he would swear she was putting an extra swing in her hips just to taunt him.  When his ass was pushed to the sofa with the guidance of a lone cherry fingernail planted in his sternum, his suspicion multiplied. 

The little vixen was teasing him.   

Jon was ready to call her tease and throw that skirt up around her head when she turned to him, frothy skirt swirling around her legs as she presented the package with an uncertain nibble at the glossy red coating on her lower lip.  Excitement and love shone from her brilliant emerald irises almost as brightly as the metallic silver paper and bow adorning the package she proffered.

Jon had learned to read those eyes with a fair amount of accuracy in their short time together.  Now was not the time to throw her to the ground and fuck her. 

Sheridan was practically bubbling with a vivacious energy that had been stolen by the rampant bouts of fatigue accompanying the pregnancy.  There was no way he was going to steal whatever fireworks she wanted to shower him with.  He could make sleepy love to her later.

“Sit with me,” he invited patting the cushion with one hand while balancing the flat, oversized gift on the floor in front of him with the other.

Carefully smoothing her skirt under her bottom, she perched on the sofa’s very edge so as not to wrinkle herself.  She crossed her feet at the ankles, angling herself to him and gracing him with an ethereal smile. 

“I’m not sure whether I want you to open it first, or if I want to give you my spiel first,” she tittered a bit sheepishly.  “I know.  Open the gift first.  Then I can tell you why I bought it and all the things that go along with it.”

“Whatever you say, baby.  This is your show.”  He lifted his eyebrows questioningly and his hand hovered over the wrapping.  “So open it?”

She nodded confidently, her eyes zeroed in on the fingers that were pushing under the end flap of paper.

With an unceremonious ripping of paper, the painting inside became readily visible in only a few seconds.  Jon recognized the driftwood-style frame as that of the Christmas gift she’d given him.  Peeling back the remnants of shiny silver, he saw that the painting was similar, yet completely different.  Whereas the other one was a turbulent storm, this one was… serene.

“It’s called ‘After the Rain’,” she enlightened him as he propped the artwork against the suite’s cocktail table.  “I was shopping for a wedding dress yesterday and, between stores, I saw this in the window.”

“It’s beautiful.”

She smiled, still gnawing at her lip gloss.  “Our wedding will be a civil ceremony with only the most basic vows.  I don’t want anything more than that, because the world doesn’t need to know what I vow to you.  That’s between you and me.”

“So there are vows that go with this.”

Just when you thought you were doing good with the romantic shit...

One shimmery shoulder lifted in a negligent shrug.  “I didn’t plan it that way, but yes, there are.”

 “Okay,” he drawled, shifting a little uncomfortably in his seat.  He hadn’t planned for something like this and hated being caught unprepared. 

Pay attention, you goon.

“You notice it’s an ocean scene, like the other painting I got you.”

“Yeah.  No storm this time, though.”

The resulting smile illuminated her face with an angelic radiance, making him glad that he had done something right.  “Exactly.  That’s why it caught my eye.  I was walking along thinking about how tired I was of all the… crap.  That storm came through our lives creating a magical kind of havoc, throwing us together in its wake and I’m grateful, but…  Well, I’m done.  The storm has passed and this… tranquility is the life I want for us now.  No more drama, no more allowing circumstances to stir up our ocean.  When all hell breaks loose around us, our home and hearts will be peaceful and serene.”

Reaching for his other hand, she squeezed both of them, inching closer and locking into his gaze with a blistering intensity.  “I’m not going to be the weak link in our family.  You’ve been there for me the last couple of days, holding me up when life knocked the wind out of me and I want you to understand that this isn’t a one-way street.  I will wake beside you in the morning, walk beside you throughout the day and, when the end of that grueling day comes… I’ll be there to hold you up.”

Silky blonde waves slithered off her shoulders and down her back when she tipped her chin up, boldly informing him, “I’m not going to be just another obligation for you to take care of.  I plan on being your partner in every sense of the word – someone you can respect and be proud to call your wife.  I’ll be the one you can count on when it feels like there’s nobody you can count on.  I’ll find whatever strength and energy you need to carry on and give it to you every single day of our lives.”

Fuck.  Just… fuck.

Sometimes there were things you just knew without being told.  When he’d asked – bullied – her to marry him, he thought he knew her.  Hell, he did know her, but now he had a whole new appreciation for the beautiful woman beside him. 

Because, even if he had assumed all of what she’d said to be true, the words…  the effort and determination that she had taken to ensure that he understood what was going on inside her head …  they calmed his duck-infested waters in a way he hadn’t known he needed.  The nervous energy that had been fueling his thoughts and actions simply ceased to be, bringing his mind to a state as calm and tranquil as her gift.

“I’m sorry that I don’t have something nearly as eloquent prepared – “

“No,” she interrupted with an abrupt shake of her head.  “This wasn’t meant to be a flowery love-fest exchange of… whatever.  This is me telling you where my head is and my heart is, not some subtle ploy for schmaltzy romantic gestures.”

He loved her.  That’s all there was to it.  He flat-out fucking loved her.  Their circumstances might not fall into a cookie-cutter-happily-ever-after mold, but there was no doubt in Jon’s mind that he’d found the right woman. 

Or, rather, that Karma had sent him the right woman. 

Now how did he make sure the woman in question knew that he was doing this not because it was right, but because it felt right?

Squeezing the feminine hands still clutched around his bigger ones, Jon slowly slid off the couch and planted one knee in the plush carpet.  Lifting her hands to his lips, he gently dusted the knuckles with a light kiss and met the eyes of the woman he was ready to face forever with.

“Sheridan King, will you marry me?”