96 - Regrets or Reflections?

“You look beautiful,” Jon complimented when she emerged from the bathroom in their Four Seasons hotel suite. 

Whether he said it because he knew she needed to hear it, or because it was true, she didn’t really care.  With that devilish glint in his eyes, she felt beautiful, despite having to buy the cashmere sweater dress in a size larger than what she normally wore.  Even at that, it still clung to her blossoming bosom a little more than she wanted it to. 

At least black is a slimming color.  And I didn’t have to resort to those awful elastic waist pants yet. 

“Thank you.  You look very handsome yourself.” 

Mezzaluna wasn’t a fancy place.  It was a tiny hole in the wall restaurant, where all the patrons dressed casually.  Sheridan had told him as much when he asked if he needed a shirt and tie for dinner.  The stiletto heeled knee-high boots she wore were probably too upscale for her favorite little restaurant, but his heather blue sweater and dark jeans were perfect.

Her justification was that, on Valentine’s Day, she should feel sexy, and the boots did that for her.  God only knew how much longer she’d be able to wear the sky high heels.  She figured she should take advantage while she still could.

“The front of your dress looks a little plain though.”

Frowning, she dropped her chin and surveyed the solid black cashmere that fell to her knee.  He was right, but there was nothing to be done about it now. 

“I didn’t bring any jewelry since I didn’t know what I’d be wearing.  I think it will be okay, though.”

But he was shaking his head.  “I don’t think so.  I can’t have your sister and friend thinking I let you go out like that.”

She was stunned into near silence.  Her jaw fell open and she was about to ask him what was so awful about it when she saw his hand slip around to his back pocket and produce a slim navy blue box.

“Why don’t you see if this might match your dress?”

He was smiling that arrogant little smile of his as he held out the red ribboned box.  Sheridan was wearing her own smirk, and just about to curl her fingers around the box, when he latched onto her wrist and hauled her close.  “I love you,” he rumbled against her lips before dusting them with his own.  “But don’t get used to me buying you a new piece of jewelry every month.”

She tittered softly and returned his kiss before removing the box from his hand.  “Every other month will be fine.”

“Minx,” he muttered, shoving his fingertips into the pockets of his jeans. 

Nobody was more handsome than her husband with his carelessly mussed hair and seductively sparkling eyes.  It was no wonder women went nuts over him, Sheridan thought, glancing down at the gift box she held.

And he can be awfully sweet when he wants to be.  It’s definitely a lethal combination.

While he watched, she slipped the festive red ribbon from the box and flipped up the hinged lid.  Inside was a bolero-style necklace.  The two ends of the long, white-gold chain were tethered together with a barrel-shaped pendant that very closely matched her wedding ring.  The inside of the box lid confirmed that this was another Possession piece.

“It’s beautiful,” she admired, lifting the piece of jewelry from its velvet bed.  She passed the empty box to Jon and slipped it over her head.  When her hair settled back around her shoulders, Sheridan looked down at the necklace and back to her husband.  “And it’s perfect for this dress.  Thank you.”

He accepted her kiss with a pleased smile.  “You’re very welcome.”

“Do you mind if I wait and give you your gifts after dinner?”

“Since I want my gift to be tiramisu licked off your titties, I think after dinner works best.”

Heat rushed from Sheridan’s chest, up her neck and into her cheeks.  The image of that cold, sweet mascarpone concoction being lapped from her breasts was enough to dampen the silken crotch of her new Agent Provocateur lingerie.

His crudeness embarrassed her as much as it enflamed her, but she wouldn’t trade him or his ways for anything.  What made it even more titillating was knowing that he didn’t talk this way to anyone but her.  It made one of the small gifts she’d picked up for him seem very appropriate.

“Are you ready to go?” she asked, reaching for her small purse and leather overcoat.

He, too, picked up his jacket, chuckling.  “Yeah.  When we get in in the car you can tell me about the visual that just went through your head.”

A possessive palm in the curve of her back guided Sheridan from the room and remained lodged there through the elevator ride and most of the sojourn through the lobby.  It didn’t fall away until they both spotted a very dressy Dorothea coming through the front entrance – accompanied by a man whose suit and tie were just as dressy. 

She looked about as thrilled to see them as Sheridan was to see her. 

“Dottie,” Jon greeted with a nod while Sheridan smiled silently.  “Where are the kids tonight?”

“Hello, Jon.  They’re with my sister.”

He nodded again and extended a hand toward Dorothea’s companion.  “John Bongiovi.  The ex.  And this is my wife, Sheridan.”

The other man’s smile was open and pleasant as he returned the handshake.  “Michael D’Angelo.  Our kids go to school together.”

“Jon, Sheridan…  It was nice seeing you, but we’re late for our dinner reservation.”

Dorothea clearly didn’t want to linger and Sheridan blessed the woman in her head.  They hadn’t had much contact as of late, but what little they did had been polite.  The best way to keep it that way was to keep things short and civil, in Sheridan’s opinion.

“Tao?”  Jon asked, clearly not in as much of a hurry, and when Dorothea confirmed that he was correct, he gave her one of those press smiles that Sheridan hated.  It didn’t meet his eyes and left her feeling cold inside.  “You always liked their sashimi.”

“I still do.”  His ex-wife’s smile was much smaller, but just as artificial.  “Now, if you’ll excuse us, we’ll leave you to enjoy your evening.”

Rather than picking up their tiramisu conversation when the driver sealed them into the back of their hired car, Jon appeared to be lost in thought.   

“Jon?”

“Hm?” 

His face turned toward hers, but, while she could see his eyes, Sheridan could tell by the vacant expression in them that he wasn’t seeing her.  It didn’t take a genius to figure out where his mind was.

“Did that bother you?”

With the quiet question, he blinked.  That’s when the famous blue irises became sharp again and his forehead creased with confusion.  “Did what bother me?”

“Seeing Dorothea with a date.”

He didn’t avert his eyes from her as he contemplated her question, nor did he answer right away.  Finally, he shook his head.  “No.  I was really thinking of how I’d feel if I ran into her like that and didn’t have you.  If I was still single.”

“How would it feel?”

“I’m afraid it might hurt like hell.  Makes me understand a little better why she’s been so…  not the person I know lately.”

Sheridan didn’t know whether to be impressed or worried that he didn’t use the word ‘bitchy’ there.  It wouldn’t have been an unfair observation. 

“But you do have me,” she reinforced, draping one hand on his thigh and squeezing.  “So how did it feel?”

He removed the hand from his thigh and kissed its palm.  “A little weird, but it’ll be easy to get used to.  Whether this is only a date or something more, I’m genuinely glad to see her happy.”

“No regrets?”

Shrugging, he twisted his face into a mask of indecisiveness.  “I’m a demanding perfectionist.  My regret is that I failed at something and that my kids are paying the price. But do I want Dottie back?  No.”

There really hadn’t been any doubt in her mind as to the answer.  He’d never given her the impression that he was looking backward and wishing for a different outcome.  Jon was the type of man who, when he made a mistake, learned from it and moved on.  His head wasn’t stuck in the past on what might have been. 

A tiny part of Sheridan was worried that she might find herself in that position someday.  What might have been if Karma hadn’t had PMS and given them a baby.  She had just started living her life when Jon stormed back into it and the very things she’d chosen to pursue in that new life were now gone.  Her massage therapy training had fallen victim to the whole “Trouser Tom” incident and her aromatherapy…  Well, it was just a hobby anyway.

Outside of baby preparations, she had nothing significant to devote her time and attention to.  She, whom the bookstore world couldn’t revolve without, was a suburban mommy in the making and…  Well, right now it wasn’t enough.  She needed to make more of her life than being a pampered rock star’s wife and baby mama. 

“How about you?” he interrupted her soul searching.  “You regret not still being with your ex?”

The sign for Mezzaluna was shining in the next block.  There wasn’t time to explain her most recent thoughts to him now.  It could wait for another philosophical time and place. 

She leaned into his side and touched her lips to his jaw.  “No.  Regrets are wasted energy.  I prefer to concentrate on the future and not doing anything that I might end up in regret.”