79 #Welcome

 “Are you ever coming out of there?” Jon asked, impatience evident in the weight of his knuckles against the bathroom door.  The guest bathroom, not the en suite master bath she refused to use after the swim that delayed the start of “all night long”.

 

Here Jon thought they’d move directly from the kitchen to the bedroom, but no.  For whatever fucking reason, she must’ve had some kind of internal freak out, because Teddi eased away from him with that fake smile, saying she’d like to take a swim before bed.  The swim wasn’t an issue.  She could use the pool whenever she wanted, but there were “amative” activities underway here, dammit!  So, he tried to change her mind without actually saying no.  

 

And… it didn’t work. 

 

A soft touch wasn’t enough to soothe whatever gremlins were wreaking havoc in her head this time.  Rather than succumb to his coaxing, Teddi released her talisman necklace to take his hand, press an apologetic kiss to the center and explain she needed a few minutes alone.  The water would supposedly help wash away the day’s drama and put her in the right headspace to enjoy their time together. 

 

In his opinion, all she needed was to get out of her clothes to get out of her head, but he refrained from saying it.  Jon understood simply being outside her house was a stretch, and that was before things had taken an unexpected turn with Deidre’s appearance.  So – this once – he gracefully conceded and made good use of the pool time by bringing her bags from the guest house to his room. 

 

Sleeping arrangements were non-negotiable, but there wasn’t even an attempt at negotiation.  She accepted the news with a quiet, “As long as your children aren’t here, there’s no place else I’d rather be.”

 

He was feeling kind of victorious – right up until she and half the contents of one bag scuttled down the hall.  When Jon called after to ask where the hell she was going, Teddi threw him smirk over one shoulder and said she’d join after a shower, promising it would only take five minutes.

 

That was twenty-five minutes ago.  He swallowed an irritable sigh and lifted his fist again, but the knuckles barely grazed the door as it swung inward to reveal bedtime Dr. Montgomery.  She sported freshly dried and brushed hair, a glowing complexion, the fragrance of vanilla-almond goodness… and a Little House on the Prairie gown that fell to her ankles.  Okay, so maybe the satin ribbons tied into bows weren’t exactly Caroline Ingalls couture, but the loose ivory cotton that disguised her every curve was pretty damn Puritan.

 

Folding his arms, he tried to remain open-minded about her unique issues while blandly asking, “Wanna tell me what the fuck’s going on?”

 

Oddly enough, she didn’t try to evade the question by playing dumb.  Light fingers curled over his forearms, snugging between them and the soft cotton of his t-shirt as naked eyes lifted to meet his.  “Having never visited a man’s bedroom before, I was just taking some time to think about it.  That’s all.”

 

“You’ve been in my hotel room, and what’s to think about?  We fuck, we sleep.  Just like at your house.”

 

“Hotel rooms are impersonal, rented sleeping quarters.  The bedroom you’ve owned and occupied since 2004 is entirely different.  It belongs to you, and I was trying to decide what proper etiquette might be.”

 

“Okay,” he said with a light grimace.  “First of all, knowing when I bought the house crosses the creepy stalker line.”

 

“Sorry,” she murmured.  “The bedroom you’ve owned and occupied for years.  Is that better?”

 

“Yeah, it’ll do.  Secondly…”  Jon un-pretzeled his arms, anchoring her chin between his thumb and forefinger to speak earnestly into her eyes.  “… the only etiquette is to be yourself.  This isn’t your grandmother’s house and, quite frankly, she’s not welcome here.  There’s nothing you can do or say that warrants punishment.  Unless you want to be punished.”

 

Wiggling his eyebrows to accompany the tease lightened a heavy scene, but he meant every damn word.  No wonder the woman didn’t like being around people. She felt like everybody had a secret rule book and that violating them carried some untold consequence.

 

He eased his gripping thumb to trace the lower curve of her smile.  “You’re at the beach, for God’s sake.  Lighten up and have a little fun.  And you can start by ditching the overgrown pillowcase you’re wearing.”

 

The smile grew bigger and for the second time that evening, she kissed his palm.  Only this time wasn’t an apology.  He didn’t think. 

 

“Thank you,” she said, confirming that thought while snaking both arms around his neck.  “There will come a day when you tire of my idiosyncrasies but, for now, I’m exceptionally grateful for how you handle them.”

 

“Hopefully, there will come a day when the idiosyncrasies aren’t so intense.  In the meantime, how ‘bout showing me some tangible gratitude?”

 

“Tangible?”

 

“Tangible,” he repeated into her smirking face while cupping the swell of her backside.  “Something you can touch.”

 

“I’m aware of the definition, but what did you have in mind?”

 

“Something more than a granny gown grope in the hallway.”

 

Had he ever seen her bite one corner of her lip while the other stretched wide with delight? Jon didn’t think so, because he surely would’ve remembered the perfect blend of Gypsy and genteel twisting his insides clockwise.  This was his Teddi, and she was allowing herself to exist outside the cauldron of color.  He had a hard time viewing the playful ruffle of her fingertips through his hair as anything other than a victory lap.

 

“It’s not a granny gown.”

 

“A potato sack with laces, then.”

 

All it took was one purposeful tug for one of the silky bows to give way, and two snakes of satin went their separate ways to bare a creamy shoulder.  The front piece of fabric crumpled into a pile on the top curve of her breast, and it wouldn’t take much nudging to bare the nipple already straining against the cotton.

 

He skimmed it through the gown, pleased when she sucked a quiet breath and leaned into the pressure of his thumb.  She wasn’t trying to dissuade him from improper displays of affection outside the bedroom.  That was good. 

 

Their gazes locked, and Jon saw that the kaleidoscope in her eyes was beginning to whirl.  Right now, it was merely an assortment of crackled blue glass, but he could see the faintest slivers of other colors working their way through.  It wouldn’t be long until they showed their full brilliance.

 

Especially with his help. 

 

He used one thumb to hook the loose edge of fabric and slowly shimmy it downward until the beaded nipple popped free.  The entire tip of her breast immediately puckered at the exposure, and the texture rasped against his thumbprint.  It was enough to inspire that multi-hued spotlight deep in her pupil to start spinning in technicolor and overwhelm the natural color of her irises.  Greedy fingers were ravaging through Jon’s hair without a thought.

 

That’s just the way he liked her.  Without all those fucking detrimental thoughts. 

 

“Can we take this to the bedroom?” she breathed as he stroked back and forth over the rock-hard nub straining out of the surrounding pillowy flesh.  He liked the contrast and expanded his fondling to encompass both.

 

“Why?”

 

“A bed makes it easier for me to climb on top of you.”

 

“What if I want to fuck you in the hall?”

 

“Sounds like something your knees and back may regret later, but if that’s what you want….”

 

He’d thrown the question out there as a test of sorts, just to see if she would be brave enough to do it.  Either she was a good bluffer or she would actually let him pin her to the wall and crawl inside that pillow case.  He optimistically chose to lieve it was honesty, because she was right about the back and knees thing,

 

“Point taken; now move.”  Dropping both hands to her waist, he used the heels of them to spin her toward the bedroom and kept a loose grip while following along.  Thank ya, Jesus; it looked like Jon was finally going to get to have sex tonight.

 

Or so he thought.  Progress was once again impeded when she glided to a halt just inside the bedroom. 

 

“Where did those come from?  They weren’t there earlier.”

 

Stifling a sigh, he flicked a disinterested glance in the direction of her pointing finger.  Lamplight and shadows muted both the woven stripes and flamboyant tassels of two throw pillows he’d tossed on the bed while she showered.  They’d be more vibrant in the daylight, but it was still a splash of noticeable color against the white bedding.

 

“I grabbed ‘em from Steph’s room.  It’s not a full-on cauldron of color, but I thought maybe they’d make you feel more at home.”

 

Teddi blinked rapidly against watery eyes.  She’d been a pain in his gorgeous backside this evening with her need to gather thoughts, give herself a pep talk, and recover from a minor bout of panic.  His thinning patience had been understandably gone by the time he pounded on the bathroom door, and she opened it expecting to get an up-close introduction to his rumored temper.  But in his unique Jersey way, he simultaneously scolded and soothed so that she felt cared for instead of belittled. 

 

And now this.

 

The offhand thoughtfulness was more touching than… well, a bed of roses.  He was always doing something for her, it seemed.  Flying out on her whim, buying an anxiety inhaler, being her champion with Deidre and quiet supporter with his children…. The list was endless.  What had she done other than feed him and fornicate? 

 

Nothing.

 

She pivoted on the ball of one foot, placing palms against his chest and solemnly declaring, “We are going to spend tomorrow working on a social media plan.  I want to have the content and schedule of postings ready to kick off the moment they announce the Hall of Fame ballot.”

 

The shallow furrow between his eyebrows went as deep as she’d ever seen it. 

 

“No.  Whatever the hell you’re thinking, let it go and leave Dr. Montgomery at the door.”  His fingers flexed rapidly at her waist, drawing the yards of nightdress into tight fists that tugged the whole thing upward, forcing Teddi to lift her arms.  “Along with this goddamn ridiculous gown.”  

 

He threw it into the hall and slammed the door behind it, raking wolfish eyes over her naked body before shackling one wrist in each of his hands.  Patience had also obviously been thrown out the door, as he showed none when walking her backward and raising her hands high against the nearest of the mahogany bed’s four posts. 

 

Was it excitement or fear that slammed Teddi’s heart against her ribcage as surely as her back slammed against the bedpost?  There wasn’t time to decide before his mouth slanted over hers with single-minded determination.  All she could do was open for him and take as he once again gave.

 

This time he didn’t give without expectation, however.  He demanded that she take his heat and stoke it higher.  That she push back against his rocking pelvis.  That she swallow his primal growls and feed them back with vigor.  He kissed her so thoroughly that she didn’t know if the sheen on her lips was from saliva or his breath.

 

And little did Teddi care until he broke the kiss.

 

She whimpered a protest, but Jon only grinned at her with a filthy glimmer in those beautiful blue eyes. 

 

“Welcome to the Hamptons, Gypsy girl.  It’s about fucking time you got here.”

78 #SkullBumpery

Day was transitioning to evening in the Hamptons.  Shadows grew longer, and the light coming through Jon's kitchen windows was weaker than it had been when she first arrived. 

 

Not weaker, Teddi corrected herself while watching its play against the muscular forearms rinsing dishes.  Gentler, like the man who cradled a fragile waterglass for its bath.  Both the sun and Jon held as much power in this moment as any other; they simply reserved it until the time came to shine again. 

 

"I really wish you had let me take you out for dinner," he said over one shoulder and the sound of running water.  Teddi had offered to help wash up after their seafood pasta meal, but he flatly refused with the argument that loading the dishwasher was hardly a feat compared to all she'd done since waking up this morning. 

 

She considered protesting that it was nothing, but that would’ve been another pretty lie, so Teddi simply thanked him, fixed herself a cocktail, and kept him company while he worked.  The ugly truth was that this day had been exhausting.

 

Here she thought that simply getting from one house to the other might be the most distressing part of the day.  How naïve of her to forget that her real trauma took place with other humans, and that was most certainly the case. 

 

The encounter with Deidre wouldn’t be all that bothersome had it not been for her offhand comment about Truman’s suicide.  It was just another in the list of unpleasant family encounters in her life, but she certainly hadn’t planned to unveil the family secrets to Jon’s children – ever, much less within moments of meeting them.   But Jesse had joined them in the living room just as Teddi began to share the bare bones of her true lineage, so now the two eldest Bongiovi offspring were privy to her true and adoptive ancestry. 

 

Granted, they were both lovely about it.  Stephanie even hugged her and offered to lure Jacqueline into recouping the necklace.  As kind as the offer was, Teddi smothered her inner child’s impulse to say, “Yes, now!” and gracefully declined.  Jacqueline’s life with Deidre was difficult enough without aiding and abetting Teddi’s cause.

 

Jesse’s interest in her Gypsy heritage was a fortunate distraction that kept Stephanie from pursuing the matter.  They chatted about that for some time as well as her Bon Jovi fandom, baking skills and phrenology hobby until it was time for them to go.  Jesse met her eyes when telling her in all sincerity he was looking forward to chatting more upon his return – and that he wouldn’t mind finding Gypsies, cookies and a phrenology reading (not necessarily in that order) waiting when he did.

 

Jon’s children were perfectly charming and the whole encounter was far more pleasant than she could’ve imagined, but.… Well, suffice it to say that she enjoyed the solitude found in cooking a bit of dinner while Jon took a call.

 

She also enjoyed wandering the house while the pasta cooked.  It was an intimate treat to inspect family photos, books, objects d’art and random pieces of Americana he chose to surround himself with in this summer hideaway.   The previous summer, the Bon Jovi Instagram account had counted down to the current album release, featuring Jon in and around this home.  She’d pored over those photos in an attempt to absorb a drop of the atmosphere; now she was submerged.

 

It was sometimes difficult reconciling Jon Bon Jovi to the gentleman swearing at the lone fork that he’d missed putting in the dishwasher.  In her home, she could focus on Jon who touched her and made the world right again.  The one without accessory items to cloud her vision of who he really was as a person.  There were plenty of accessory items in this house that she’d obsessed over for many years, so the line between rock god and real guy was jaggedly blurry. 

 

She would simply have to try harder. 

 

"I appreciate that you wanted to take me out for dinner," she assured from the kitchen table, tilting her gin and tonic glass from one side to the other so that the melting ice mixed evenly in the alcohol.  "However, we both know that I'd already met my social interaction limit for the day."

 

"But damn if you didn't do it in style."  He closed the dishwasher door and leaned against it with a solemn expression.  "I didn't say this earlier because I thought it might sound condescending, but I'm proud of you."

 

She rolled her eyes toward one of the dusky windows, hoping to avoid the awkward events of the day.  "How embarrassing that civil conversation with your children is pride-worthy."

 

"I thought that went pretty damn well, but it’s not what I’m talking about," Jon said when stretching an arm down the counter to snag one of the few macarons not devoured by his son.  "I was referring to the showdown in the driveway.  You handled Deidre like a champ.”

 

“Also not pride-worthy, as Deidre is an unpleasant but recurring character in the story of my life.  ‘Handling’ her is old hat.  I do, however, wonder where she got the information about Truman’s death.  It’s very unsettling.”

 

“Yeah, I noticed it hit a nerve when she said you told her.”

 

“Which I most certainly did not,” Teddi attested, the solid bottom of her cocktail glass hitting the table top with a gentle thud.  “Other than you and I, no one knows but Tori and the coroner.”

 

“Was there ever any time she might’ve overheard you and Tori talking about it?”

 

“Not that I can recall.  I’ve seen her more this summer than I have in the past decade.  It’s not like we share the same social circles.”

 

“No offense, Cookie,” he drawled with a lazy wink meant to soften the observation.  “But your circle is more like Morse code – a dot here and there with the occasional dash thrown in.”

 

She chuffed softly.  “The dashes are generous. Braille is probably more appropriate, since it’s only dots.”

 

The colorful bit of honesty drew a hearty chuckle that pulled Teddi’s flat mouth into an upward curve.  She adored making him laugh. This relationship of theirs often felt unbalanced with him giving far more than he took, since he dismissed most of the social media coaching she offered.  This smile was much nicer than the rolling eyes that accompanied a Twitter lesson.

 

“You’re surprisingly funny sometimes, Cookie.”  A ghost of amusement still hovered in the blue sparkle of eyes as he gently pulled her to standing and hooked both wrists at the small of her back.  “When you’re not determined to be uptight.”

 

“Am I?  Perhaps I should be less uptight, then,” she mused, pretending to consider the matter.  “Yes, I shall – at least for this evening.  Could I ask you for a very silly favor?”

 

There was no visible hesitation.  It took less than a second for twinkling irises to settle into an earnest gleam that said far more than his simple, “Sure.” 

 

Teddi scolded her fluttering heart into submission.  This wasn’t the time to get carried away with the imagined subtext that he’d give her any favor she wanted.  That it would be his pleasure to do so.   No, she needed to absorb the inner peace that came with his touch and simply enjoy this slice of time. 

 

“Can I feel your skull bumps?”

 

The cheeky question was rewarded with another chuckle.  More of a snort, really.  “Seems like your hands have been in my hair at least a couple times.  You didn’t feel ‘em then?”

 

“At the time, I was more interested in fucking than phrenology.”

 

His wide grin hit Teddi’s mouth, tasting of rosé and macaron when their tongues swiped against one another.  The sweet friction and flavor didn’t last nearly long enough before a gentle peck ended it, and he and drew back to regard her with affection.  “You’re doing a good job of not being uptight, and damn if you aren’t cute.” 

 

“And you’re irresistible when you look so utterly content,” she returned.  Teddi pressed easy fingertips between his eyebrows, lightly following beneath the crest of orbital bone that formed a subtle shelf over his eyes. 

 

“Oh, Christ.  You’re really gonna do this?”  The muscles under her touch spasmed with his disdain.

 

“You didn’t refuse me, so yes.  I’m really going to do this.”

 

Ignoring his huff of feigned exasperation, she followed the top and bottom contour of his brow all the way to the tip of his zygomatic arch without finding any surprises.  Teddi had studied enough photos over the years to imagine how the bone would feel, so she reversed path and traced the arch of his cheek bones.

 

When she let out a soft hum, Jon demanded, “What?  You can’t make noises that sound like you found cancer and not tell me what the hell it means.”

 

“Cancer?  Really?” She mocked the exaggeration with a laugh.  “That ‘noise’ was me appreciating your fantastic cheekbones.  They have absolutely nothing to do with phrenology, but I couldn’t resist the chance to admire them.”

 

“Whatever.”  The man didn’t accept compliments well and was aggravated by Teddi using one as a diversion.  “You had a smug little look on your face when you were groping my eyebrows.  What was that about?”

 

Clearly, this wasn’t going to be just a quick inspection to satisfy her curiosity.  Her subject wanted a play-by-play, so she patiently started again at the inside corner of his eye, working her way to the outside while reciting her analysis.

 

“Individuality, weight, color, locality, and order.  All perfectly average.  That means you recognize people as individual beings, have a good concept of the relation between objects and their weight, color, placement and order.”  She touched the outside edge of his eyelid.  “The calculation faculty is here and is of ample size.  That accounts for your ability to compile and regurgitate album and tour statistics ad nauseum.”

 

The skin beneath her fingertips slipped low with a scowl.  “Is that a politely dressed insult?”

 

“No,” she snickered.  “Just a fact.  That enhanced calculation faculty leads into some other enhancements that wouldn’t surprise anyone who knows you.  Or of you, for that matter.”

 

He watched with intense concentration and tapped just above calculation.  “This little bit of overachieving skull tells me you like to drink, and the one right next to it extolls your musical perception.  The time faculty is also well-formed, along with eventuality and locality.”

 

She continued her survey, talking as she went about the slight swells that indicated secretiveness, loyalty, parental love, memory, self-esteem, sense of humor, benevolence, and the ability to come up with new ideas. 

 

“You’re making this shit up,” he accused during a pause in her report.  “It’s too complimentary.  Are you kissing my ass so I don’t badger you into going out of the house this week?”

 

“I am not kissing your ass, nor am I going out of the house this week.  Here.”  She took his fingers and placed them in a spot on the top of his head, just behind the hairline.  “Feel that indentation?”

 

“Yeah…?”

 

“That’s your underdeveloped imitative faculty.”

 

“Which is what, exactly?”

 

“I call it your acting ability.”  She owned and watched all of his movies, but Teddi preferred interview footage.  Of all the things Jon did, acting was not his strongest talent. 

 

“What the fuck?”  He drew back in disbelief, declaring, “My acting isn’t underdeveloped, goddammit.  I can act.”

 

“You… can,” she agreed slowly.  Placing a consoling hand in the center of his chest, she gave a regretful grimace and stage-whispered, “But you’re not great at it – and that’s the ugly truth, my friend.”

 

She’d thought he would see the humor in it, but Jon’s disbelief slipped away to leave behind a blank slate.  There were no thoughts written there for Teddi to read, and since he stood perfectly still, there was no body language.  Jon just stared at her while the silence grew to uncomfortable proportions and… was that a sheen of moisture in his eyes?

 

Damnation, Theodosia.  You’ve gone too far and hurt his feelings!  One cannot simply abandon all social decorum and speak without a filter, pretty lies or not. 

 

“I can’t believe you’d say that to me.  Do you know how many lessons I took?”

 

The questions were dull and flat, unlike his usual animated personality.  He seemed positively forlorn, and Teddi scrambled for a way to fix her blunder. “Oh, I was just being silly.  I certainly didn’t intend to be hurtful.  You’re a fine actor and I shouldn’t have…”

 

His lips quivered ever-so-slightly in a way that made her abandon the panicked apology to pin him with a narrowed glare of suspicion.  When he attempted to control the twitch by pressing his mouth in a flat line, Jon also smothered a cough.  Or was that a laugh? 

 

Teddi’s attention zipped up to find blue eyes dancing with barely suppressed mirth.  The damn man was playing her like a Steinway and she’d fallen for it. 

 

“What was it you were saying about my acting, Cookie?”

 

She gave him a half-hearted shove borne of both relief and infuriation.  “What I meant is that it’s not as developed as your musical ability, you horrible man!  It’s a good thing your amativeness is underdeveloped, too, because you won’t be using it tonight.”

 

“God knows I’m gonna regret asking, but what’s ‘amativeness’?”

 

“Your aptitude and enjoyment of physical love,” she informed him with a smirk, knowing perfectly well that his amative faculty was exceptionally formed.  She’d made a point of checking it the very first time her fingers were in his hair – but he didn’t realize that. 

 

What he did realize was that her acting skills were atrocious, because Jon hooted, “You’re full of shit!  If there’s anything I can be sure of, it’s that my sex bump is as big as they come.  And to prove it to you…”  a meaty forearm hooked Teddi’s waist and hauled her close enough to flatten their chests against one another.  “I’m gonna overcome my hurt feelings and fuck you all night.”

 

That offer might be enough to make her overlook his other shenanigans. 

 

“When you say ‘all night’ do you mean all night?”

 

His grin was wicked enough to tarnish an angel’s halo when saying, “All.  Damn.  Night.”

77 #UglyTruths

In all the times she’d tried to envision her arrival at Jon’s beach house – and there had been a lot – none of them vaguely resembled what just happened.  To be fair, why in the world would she ever imagine herself verbally sparring with Deidre in this driveway?  That was the type of scenario that only took place in an alternate universe or soap opera script, yet here she was, reeling with the discovery that her evil half-sister knew Truman’s real cause of death.

 

Please, dear God in Heaven, let that be all she knows.  It’s bad enough she thinks I’m mentally incapacitated.  All I need is for her to start blabbering about bookies and gambling addictions to the wrong people, and then Jon really will be humiliated. 

 

She was valiantly trying to get a grip on herself without having to take out the anxiety inhaler being clutched inside her dress pocket.  The texture of it under her thumb was mildly comforting.  Maybe she wouldn’t –

 

“Cookie!” 

 

With no idea how long he’d been speaking to her before reverting to that sharp tone, Teddi snapped her head around, fisting the inhaler hard enough to leave imprints in her palm while demurely apologizing.  “I’m sorry.  What was it you were saying?”

 

“I was asking if you’re okay.”

 

Concern etched his discerning eyes, as he sought vainly to read her thoughts through the sunglasses she still wore. 

 

“Yes, of course.”  If she wasn’t, she’d die faking it rather than have an episode on his lawn.  Sheer determination lifted the corners of her mouth and pushed out a tight laugh.  “Just your typical Peabody family reunion.”

 

Jon wasn’t buying it, nor was he amused at her attempt to sell it.  He scowled and grabbed her wrist, pulling Teddi in close enough for her to hear a muttered, “Stop with the damn Dr. Montgomery façade.  I can see your hand in your pocket.”

 

He’d never hugged her around the neck and put a cheek against her temple, although she’d seen photos of him embracing Dorothea that way.  It wasn’t intended to be a soothing embrace, but there was a familiarity to it that brought a different kind of comfort.  He wasn’t doing it for effect but out of frustrated affection, and that in itself was inexplicably soothing. 

 

Enough so that she pulled the offending hand from her pocket and leaned into him while twining both arms around his waist. 

 

“It’s not in my pocket anymore.”

 

His grunt was quietly unimpressed, but he didn’t get the chance to share how much before a feminine voice found them. 

 

“Did I just see Ms. Davenport peel out of the driveway?”

 

There was little doubt as to who posed the question, and Teddi’s heartrate kicked up an anxious notch.  She would’ve jumped out of Jon’s embrace, but his arms held strong while hers fell from his waist to flail somewhat helplessly as he whispered, “Relax.” 

 

When she did her best to obey, those imprisoning arms eased slightly, shifting to maneuver her to his left side so they could both face the daughter who stood on the portico step.  Teddi’s smile was uncomfortably tight as Jon answered, “Yeah, that was her.”

 

“Did she forget something or was she stalking you?”

 

The young woman’s dry censure was enough to alleviate a bit of Teddi’s tension.  “I believe it was stalking gone wrong when she discovered me here.” 

 

“Steph, this is Teddi, who also happens to be Deidre’s…”

 

“Aunt,” Teddi supplied, stepping forward with an extended hand for a more formal greeting.  “Stephanie, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

 

The gesture was accepted somewhat absently, but brilliant blue eyes were sharply assessing.  “You look a lot alike, actually.  That means you’re also related to Jacey, then.”

 

“Jacey?”  Not knowing who that was, she cut a look to Jon for possible translation.

 

“Deidre called her Jacqueline.” 

 

“Oh, I didn’t realize she was using a shortened version of her name.”  She nodded with affirmation.  “In that case, yes.  Jacey’s my grandniece.”

 

“That’s weirdly coincidental.”  Attention laced with suspicion transferred to her father.  “Did you know that while they were here?  Why didn’t you say something?  Dr. Montgomery could’ve come out and joined us last week.”

 

“Your father offered,” Teddi inserted smoothly to save Jon the trouble of concocting an explanation.  “But the timing didn’t work for me.”

 

As it turned out, he didn’t want to be saved.

 

“We don’t do pretty bullshit in my family, Cookie.  We tell the ugly truth.” A heavy palm at her waist propelled her toward the front door.  “Yes, Stephanie, I knew.  I also knew they don’t get along and that, if I told you, you’d ask enough nosy fucking questions to make a crap week even worse.  That’s why I didn’t mention it.”

 

“Why don’t they get along?”  As they passed by, Stephanie redirected the question to Teddi.  “Why don’t you get along?”

 

“And there we have it.  Nosy fucking questions.”  Jon sighed, guiding Teddi into the foyer ahead of him.  “It’s none of your damn business.  Now where’s Jesse?  I need a drink.”

 

STEPHANIE[12:02 PM]: Hey.  Tell me about your aunt Teddi.

JACEY[12:05 PM]:  Teddi?  Do you mean Theodosia? 

STEPHANIE:  You don’t call her Teddi?

JACEY:  I don’t call her much of anything, tbh.

STEPHANIE: Why?

JACEY: She was at the will reading when my grandfather died last month. First time I’d seen her since I was like 14.  Mother despises her. 

STEPHANIE: Why doesn’t your mom like her?

JACEY: I really have no idea.  It’s been that way for as long as I can remember.  Why are you asking about Theodosia?

STEPHANIE: My dad’s dating her.

JACEY: OMG.  My mother is going to be livid when she hears that.  She just rented a house for the rest of the summer specifically to “cultivate a friendship” with him. 

STEPHANIE: Oh, she knows. They were all in the driveway just now.

JACEY: 🤯 Poor Theodosia.

STEPHANIE:  Huh?

JACEY: My mother REALLY wanted to date your dad.  She’s going to make Theodosia’s life hell for getting in the way.

STEPHANIE:  No offense, but he wouldn’t have been interested even if Teddi wasn’t around. Your mom’s a little uptight for Dad. 

JACEY:  Hahahahaha!  Are you kidding me?? Theodosia is the most uptight person in our family. 

STEPHANIE: 🤨

JACEY: But FWIW, she’s always been nice to me.  Fair warning: Mother says Theodosia has some type of birth defect that made her mentally deficient. 

STEPHANIE:  She’s a PhD.  How deficient can she be?  Or are you talking about her agoraphobia? 

JACEY:  She has agoraphobia?  News to me. I never noticed it at the mandatory family appearances.  I assumed the mental thing was something like high functioning autism. 

STEPHANIE: Huh.  Maybe.  Thanks for the info!  I’ll be in the city the next couple days.  Let’s hook up for lunch.

JACEY:  Ok!

 

“Dad, Is Dr. Montgomery autistic?”

 

Jon looked up from his phone with a disgruntled scowl.  “No.  Where the hell did that come from?”

 

“Jacey says she’s mentally deficient.”

 

He’d known in his heart that there was no getting away from the subject, despite his best effort at turning a firehose on Stephanie’s rabid-dog curiosity.  He was going to have to set the record straight about the Peabodys, or she would never quit digging. 

 

Jon flicked a glance up the staircase and listened for any sign of Teddi exiting the hall bathroom, as he didn’t particularly want her wandering into the middle of this conversation.  Maybe it would take her another five minutes to freshen up – if he was lucky. 

 

“Look, Nosy Rosy… Teddi is a very private person.  She doesn’t share her business, but there is a lot of bad blood between her and the rest of that family, none of which is her fault.  If she has any mental issues, it’s because of them, not some mythical ‘deficiency’.”

 

“Does that mean you think they’re responsible for the agoraphobia?”

 

“Absolutely.”

 

“Why?”

 

He’d warned Teddi that they were an ugly truth household, but this particular truth didn’t belong to him.  It was hard knowing how much honesty would appease his daughter’s curiosity while still respecting his girlfriend’s privacy.

 

“They’re not nice people,” he said carefully, opting to keep the word count at a minimum.  “And they haven’t been nice to her.  That’s all I’m gonna say.”

 

“They mentally abused her.”  With that abrupt – and accurate, from his point of view – assumption, the maternal instinct that sought to protect Jon from an unvetted girlfriend now enveloped that girlfriend and her mistreated status.  He could read it in Stephanie’s defiant stance and folded arms as easily as he read the sheet music to “Prayer”.  His daughter had staunch opinions on what was right and what was wrong, and Teddi has fallen cleanly on the side of right. 

 

Jon couldn’t say he was disappointed, but it didn’t change the fact that Teddi’s coveted privacy was still at stake.

 

“She doesn’t think so.”

 

“What do you think?”

 

He thought a lot of things, more than half of which he was tempted to share, but he wouldn’t have the chance with Teddi fast approaching the top of the staircase.  He settled for a curt nod and an obvious shift of eyes that would make Stephanie aware of the room’s added presence. 

 

Her chestnut ponytail swung as both chin and eyes tilted up to find their guest, who cast a discerning glance between father and daughter as she hit the bottom step.  “Have I interrupted something?  I’ll be happy to go explore the yard so as not to intrude.”

 

“Nah,” Jon denied casually, extending a hand that invited her to the sofa beside him.  “Steph was just asking about Deidre.  She’s curious about the family connection.”

 

“Oh?” 

 

That didn’t thrill her, but the infamous Dr. Montgomery Mask of Pleasantry stayed firmly in place.  She even managed a realistic smile when taking a seat two cushions away from him.   It almost irked him enough to scoot close and tuck an arm around her.  He would’ve if Stephanie hadn’t plopped her ass on one of those two vacant cushions and swiveled toward Teddi.

 

“I’m unbelievably curious, actually, but Dad said you value your privacy.  I don’t want to intrude.”

 

“Not at all.  It’s completely understandable that you’d be curious about the woman spending time with your father.  I suppose that includes familial information.  What is it you’d like to know?”

 

God bless her.  Rather than telling his busybody daughter to stick it in her ear, Teddi was once again doing the “proper” thing by subjecting herself to an inquisition – even though it made her nuts enough to start rubbing the texture from her necklace.

 

“She doesn’t wanna know anything,” Jon interrupted, poking Stephanie in the arm to reinforce the assertation.

 

“I want to know lots of things,” his offspring corrected with a glare over one shoulder before turning back to Teddi.  “But I won’t pry much.  Ms. Davenport seemed to leave in a hurry.  Was she mad about you being here or something else?”

 

“Well…”  Not only was she going to rub the pendant smooth, but Teddi would likely end up without a thumbprint before this was over.  “Probably both.  I assume she expected to woo your father in some way when she found me here, and then I confronted her about the necklace she was wearing.  The combination was too much for her.” 

 

“Confronted?”

 

“Yes.  It belonged to my mother and has been missing since 1971.”

 

Jon would’ve interrupted again, but Teddi’s free hand subtly came off the sofa to hold him at bay.  For whatever reason, she felt she had to do this, and who the hell knew?  Maybe it wouldn’t hurt for her to endure the discomfort. So, he sat back for the next fifteen minutes and listened to the bare bones of a semi-fictional story he already knew – Esmerelda died, Teddi was adopted, Randolph was her brother, Deidre was his daughter, yadda, yadda, yadda.  Everything that the world-at-large knew, she shared with his daughter.

 

To his shock, however, she didn’t stop there.

 

“However,” she segued, finding his eyes for a hot second and deliberately placing both hands her lap before again focusing on Stephanie.  “That is only the pretty lie, as your dad calls it.  Very few people know the ugly truth, but I’m willing to tell you… if you’re interested.”

 

I’ll be damned.  It’s too soon to meet my kids, but it’s apparently not too soon to show them the family skeletons.  Is this bravery or that mental deficiency I keep hearing so much about? 

 

He hoped it was faith.