Chapter Fifty-Two

Pulling a highball glass from under the counter of the bar, he dropped a handful of ice cubes in with a clink and opened the bottle of Stoli Elit.  With a heavy hand he covered the cubes, filling the glass nearly to the top.  One of the perks of staying in a suite at the Four Seasons?  They all had a fully stocked bar.  Richie sipped the premium vodka and stared out at the night sky.  

They had played DC last night and he had taken off right after the show, giving himself some alone time in Boston before the show tomorrow night.  He was wallowing, feeling sorry for himself and the guys didn’t need to see him like this.  He didn’t want them to see him like this.

He missed his girl and his daughter.  The anniversary of his father’s death was looming in the not-too-distant future and he had had fights with both Heather and Denise.  And Nikki was also getting on his nerves lately.  It was all getting to be too much for him.

Tipping the glass to his lips, he drained it and grabbed the bottle for a refill.   His ex-wife needed to mind her own damn business for a change and Denise needed to grow up and forget his phone number.  Jesus she could be so damn clingy and immature.  Whatever had possessed him to seek her out in the first place?  And couldn’t they just be happy that he had met someone that made him happy?  Did they always have to look for the worst in someone?  He shook his head in disgust and took a healthy swallow from the heavy crystal glass.  

And Nikki needed to grow a pair and handle this designing shit on her own.  He had told her from the beginning that he wouldn’t always be available to make the decisions or answer questions. But fuck if she didn’t call him for every damn little thing.  Jesus, you have a brain under that blonde do, just make a decision already.

Fuck.

He was starting to sound like a whiny three year-old.

Draining his glass a second time he set the crystal tumbler on the table next to the nearly untouched plate of food and turned toward the window once more.  Eighteen more days he told himself as he stared out at the Boston skyline.  Stephanie was coming to Las Vegas for the weekend.  

He had eighteen more days until he’d see her again, hold her again, taste her again.  He pulled out his phone, scrolling to the picture of the two of them he had snapped backstage in Toronto. Her hair was a wild mass of waves and curls around her fresh, beautiful face.  Her smile had been wide and playful.  It was the first time since they had met that he hadn’t found any sadness in her face or around her eyes.  She had been so happy.   Sliding his finger across the screen, a second picture came onto the screen.  

He had caught her unaware.  She and Tico had been deep in conversation, oblivious to anyone else.  He had snapped the picture as she had tossed her head back and the carefree laugh had bubbled out of her.  He stroked his finger across her forehead and down along her hair.  God, he was crazy about her.

He picked absently at the plate of food, nibbling on the potato chips as he scrolled from picture to picture before he finally pressed the phone icon to dial her number.

~

Winding her hair up in a clip, Stephanie lit the candles that were scattered across the counter top and window sill.  She hung her bathrobe up on the hook on the back of the door, crossed the room and slipped into the tub of steaming bubbles.  Her muscles groaned with thanks at the welcome relief.  Sinking to her chin in the frothy water she rested her head against the rolled towel she had set at the edge of the tub.  Stretching out her arm, she adjusted the volume on her iPod and closed her eyes while Harry Connick, Jr. crooned her into relaxation.

There was nothing quite like a good hot bubble bath after a long day on the construction site. She chuckled at herself.  She had thoroughly enjoyed swinging her hammer and helping frame-in the walls for the new house.  Working on the habitat house had been a welcome change from the way she usually spent her Saturdays.  And not only was she helping to put a roof over a family’s head, it was keeping her from dwelling on the fact that she was here and Richie was three thousand miles away.

Reaching across to the window ledge she picked up her glass of wine and took a sip. Everything was going to ache tomorrow, but she didn’t mind.  All the aches and pains would be worth it in the end when they handed the family the keys to their new house.

The song changed and the haunting, Spanish flavored guitar intro had her thoughts turning from families and new homes to a certain dark haired, sexy guitar player who was on the other side of the country tonight.  Turning her head to gaze out the window she couldn’t help but wonder what he was doing right now.  It was heading toward midnight on the east coast, but she didn’t think he’d be asleep yet.  Was he watching television?  Down in the bar with the guys?  Was he missing her as much as she was missing him?

Eighteen more days she thought as she took another sip of her wine.  Eighteen more days and she wouldn’t have to wonder what he was doing.  Eighteen more days and maybe she’d get a full night’s sleep again.

Setting her wineglass back on the ledge she picked up her phone.   She hadn’t thought she would miss him this much.   Her gaze traveled down her arm and landed on the bracelet he had given her.  His request had been so simple and sweet.  Be my valentine, baby?

Could it really be this easy to fall in love again?  Her phone vibrated in her hand before she could ponder the answer to that question.

A soft smile tugged at her mouth.  “Hey you, I was just thinking about you” she answered quietly as she put the phone on speaker and set it back on the ledge.

Richie’s mood brightened considerably just at the sound of her voice.  He smiled in spite of himself.  “Same goes, sweetheart.  What are you up to tonight?”  The music he could hear in the background got quieter and he noted the tell tale sound of sloshing water.  She must be in the bath.

“I’m enjoying a quiet soak in my tub.”  She leaned back after lowering the volume on the iPod and rested her head once again on the rolled towel.  “I had a hard day swinging my hammer today.”

His eyebrows beetled together at the image she painted.  “Swinging your- and then it clicked.  “Ah, you worked at the habitat house today, right?”  He continued to pick absently at his plate.  The vodka sat all but forgotten.

“Yeah” she replied.  “I helped frame in the walls today.  I’m going to help with the roof next week.  And maybe do some dry walling.  It all depends on how far they get during the week.”

He tried to picture her working on a construction site.  He chuckled at the image that formed in his head of her in a hard hat and tool belt. 

She heard his quiet laugh.  “What are you laughing at over there?”

He shook his head.  “Nothing sweetheart, just trying to picture you building a house and swinging a hammer.”

She smiled and picked up her phone.  With the push of a couple buttons she set the device back on the ledge.  “Rich?”

“Yeah, sweetheart?”

“You have mail, darlin’.”

Just as she uttered the words, his phone beeped.

“What did you send me?”  He took the phone from his ear and swiped his finger across the screen.  Instantly he was looking at a picture of her in a pair of ragged, beyond faded jeans, t-shirt, tool belt and a hot pink hard hat. 

“You look damn cute sweetheart.”

“Thanks.”  There was a long pause.  “Rich, are you okay?”  He didn’t sound like his usual cheery self. 

Dragging himself up from the chair his ass had nearly taken root in he wandered to the bedroom and stretched out on the bed.  “I’m better now, baby.”  Leaning back against the headboard, he closed his eyes as they talked.

It was going to be a long eighteen days.