92 - This Is Our House

There was yet another delivery truck making its way up the drive, Jon noted.   Tucking the ink pen behind his ear, he put his little notepad in his shirt pocket and stood at the window of his ‘studio’ with his hands shoved into his back pockets.   The truck was one of those plain white wrapper jobs, so he couldn’t tell who was delivering what this time. 

But I believe I’ll go investigate and see what my overachieving wife is up to now.

She hadn’t stopped since visiting the house on Wednesday, accomplishing more in three days than most people did in two weeks.  It was a little intimidating, for even a workaholic like him, and he was a little concerned she was going to drop into an exhausted heap in some corner. 

Turning from the window, he passed by the three guitars that made up his home collection without a glance.  They were the only things in the huge space above the garage, thus far, that would indicate the purpose of this room.  His long-time friend and sound engineer, Obie O’Brien would be stopping by later in the week to get the ball rolling on studio design and construction.  Hopefully, Obie would have some creative suggestions on how to implement the wish/demand list Jon just finished making. 

His booted heels clunked down the inside staircase and the cold wind bit at him when he stepped out.  Shivering, he scurried to slip in the kitchen door, where he found Jeri unpacking dishes… and a fresh pot of coffee.

Thank ya, Jesus.  Coffee makes everything brighter.

“Got a coffee cup in there somewhere?” he asked his assistant with a grin. 

Thankfully – or unfortunately, depending on how you looked at it – his wife had found a fast friend in the slightly quirky woman who kept his professional world balanced.  In the past week, he’d seen enough of Jeri in his penthouse, Sheridan’s condo and the new house to wonder if Jeri was moving in with them. 

His biggest problem with Jeri’s presence?  The women’s exchanged glances and muted laughter when he entered the room.  It plainly told him that they were discussing him.  Often.  When he asked Sheridan about it, she merely said, “She’s sharing her Jon Bon Jovi expertise.  That’s all.”

“Coffee cups are in the cabinet over the coffee pot,” the ‘expert’ guided him, one of her chunky bracelets clanged against the pan she was putting away.  There were only four more boxes on the kitchen island.

Jon gave his thanks and took a careful swallow of the steaming brew.  It tasted like manna from the heavens. 

“Where’s Sheridan?”

“I think she’s in the nursery with Desiree.”

His forehead creased briefly.  It wasn’t unreasonable that his sister-in-law had stopped by, since she only lived about fifteen minutes away from their new Navesink River Road address, but he hadn’t realized she was in the house.  “When did Des get here?”

“I don’t remember exactly.  A little while ago.”

With a quiet, vague grunt, he thanked her again and let her know there was another delivery out front before he wandered toward the nearest staircase, tossing a casual eye around the place as he went.  The light, neutral palette she had chosen for the walls in the main living areas made the place feel more open and airy, he noted approvingly.  The way a house on the water should feel. 

She’d strayed from that a bit in the bedrooms, and solicited the kids’ input as to what they wanted in their rooms.  The final result was a bright, sky blue for Jake and Romeo, navy blue for Jesse and a deep burgundy – he preferred to think of it as blood red – in the master suite.  The nursery was a clean, crisp white that 'would go with anything' and, since Stephanie had continued to remain scarce, Sheridan selected a pale cream for her room for the same reason. 

Jon understood his daughter’s right to be upset, but when was enough going to be enough?  He’d given his pound of flesh by enduring her silence for the past month.

Not total silence.  She still sends short text messages when she ignores your calls.  At least you know she’s alive.

It bothered him.  A lot.  And, if she didn’t give in before long, he was going to that damn college and have it out with her once and for all. 

Feminine laughter lured him toward the nursery, where he paused in the doorway to critically inspect Sheridan before announcing his presence.  There were dark circles under her eyes, but, other than that, she appeared to be holding up well.  Her hair was pulled back at the nape of her neck, she was wearing just enough makeup to be ‘presentable’ – her word not his – and she was dressed comfortably in her new uniform of yoga pants and long-sleeved t-shirt.  The clothing’s stretchy material clung to her stomach, making her baby bump blatantly obvious.

It was the biggest damn prune he’d ever seen.  In fact – his eyes volleyed back and forth between his wife and sister-in-law – Sheridan’s prune was every bit as big as Desiree’s avocado.  Either his wife was going to put on a lot of weight with this pregnancy, or they were going to have one damn big kid.  No matter which, he had sneaking suspicion that she wouldn’t be happy about it.

Of course, that assumed that she would feel anything.

He’d been hoping her doctor’s appointment would inspire…  something in her.  That it would finally be real and she could stop going through the motions like some kind of automaton. 

Unfortunately, they hadn’t been able to find the heartbeat, which the doctor said was completely normal at this stage.  There had been only the sound of blood flowing through the placenta – or, as Sheridan said, through her own veins.  So all she came home with on Tuesday was a supply of prenatal vitamins, a due date of September eighteenth and growing sense of frustration and inadequacy.

“Hey,” the beautiful woman on his mind addressed him, hands propped on her hips.  “Are you going to stand there and ogle us all day or did you need something?”

His smile slipped easily into place.  “A guy can’t help but stop and stare when faced with Jersey’s two hottest pregnant women.”

“Oh Gawd,” Desiree snorted.  “Tell your brother that, will ya?  He told me the other day that my ass was blocking the TV.”  She turned to Sheridan.  “We have a seventy-two inch screen.”

“And he still has his balls?” Jon asked in amazement.  “You’re slippin’ Des.”

Sheridan laughed.  Her husband could be very personable when he chose to be and he seemed to save that treat for his family.  With the rest of the world he was nice enough, but stuck with his introvert tendencies more often than not. 

When she’d first realized that and asked him about it, his explanation was, “My family gives me unconditional love; the rest of the world doesn’t.  Besides, if I keep my mouth shut, the likelihood that I stick my foot in it decreases dramatically.”

Not only was he sexy, he was smart, too.

“Did you want something other than to be a pervert?” she inquired with a cattily arched brow.

His smile went full-blown and he winked one gorgeous blue eye at her. “I could be content with that, but there’s actually another delivery truck.  Jeri’s handling it.”

“Oh good, the den furniture is finally here.  I think that’s the last of it.”  She quickly surveyed the room they were standing in.  It was devoid of anything but the three of them and an oversized stuffed monkey.  “Except for this.  I guess I’ll go shopping next week.”

“Looks like somebody’s already been shopping.”  He nodded toward the monkey, which was propped up in the corner nearest the windows. 

“That would be me,” Desiree chimed in, a vibrant smile lighting her eyes.  “I wanted to bring a little something for the house.  Baby stuff was the only thing I was pretty sure you didn’t have already.”

“Cute,” he admired before speaking quietly to Sheridan.  “I’d rather you wait on the shopping.”

Desiree gave him an easy swat on the arm.  “Oh, lighten up, Johnny.  Decorating is the nursery is the best part of being pregnant.  And, besides…  She’ll want all the rooms finished before the housewarming party.”

Damn Desiree’s big mouth. 

Sheridan had become readily attached to Matt’s wife, finding that the common bond of pregnancy had usurped many of those awkward getting to know you conversations.  She liked her a lot, but Desiree was a little more of the ‘in-your-face’ type, and dealt with her husband differently than Sheridan did.  

Because Jon didn’t like being dictated to, and he was already giving her that look.  “We’re having a housewarming party?”

“I was going to talk with you about that,” she said, shooting a glare in Desiree’s direction.  The younger woman held up her hands in a gesture of innocence and smiled.  “It would be a nice opportunity to introduce our families, don’t you think?”

“A nice big, Italian thing would be so easy to do,” her mouthy sister-in-law supplied supportively.  “You know Dad would love to make his lasagna for new people.”

Jon didn’t respond to Desiree, his eyes fixed on Sheridan’s.  “And just exactly when were you planning on having this housewarming party?”

She could see the spark of humor lurking behind his serious gaze and mentally rolled her eyes.  Not likely caring one way or the other about the party, he was just trying to intimidate her for fun.  Did she ‘fight’ back or pretend she didn’t know what he was doing?

“I was thinking in a couple of weeks.  To give us time to get settled.”

“Hey, March second is in a couple of weeks,” the ever-helpful Desiree observed.  “We could celebrate your birthday at the same time.”

March second was also the date of her first ultrasound, but she hadn’t mentioned that to anyone yet.  She had mentally dubbed it Proof of Life Day.  If they couldn’t show her a baby, she was going to schedule with a surgeon to have this tumor removed.

“No.  I don’t want no damn birthday party.”  Jon didn’t look the least bit amused now, Sheridan noted.  She wondered if he hated birthdays in general, or just parties that drew attention to them. 

Something else to find out about my new spouse. 

“Fine,” she placated him.  “It won’t really even be a housewarming.   Just a party to bring our families together.  Sound good?”

“Mm.”  Now that she'd ruled out the dreaded b-word, that humorous spark was back, and it was accompanied by a wolfish leer that had her tired toes tingling.  “I could be convinced.”