Chapter Fifty-Eight

Stephanie was sitting on the couch, typing away on her laptop when Richie finally decided to grace the day with his presence.  He dropped down next to her, nuzzling into her neck.  “Good morning.”

She glanced down at the clock on the corner of her screen before turning and pressing a smiling kiss to his lips.  “I think you mean good afternoon.”

He nipped her lip.  “Smart ass.”  He glanced at her computer screen.  Thinking she had just been messing around on the web, he was surprised to see what looked like actual work staring back at him.  “What’re you doing?”

She pressed a few buttons, saving her work before closing the computer and setting it aside.  “Just finishing up a report for my boss.”   She stood and moved toward the window. She wanted to talk to him, needed to talk to him, but how did one start a conversation like this?  She stared out the window, the sky was an endless blue and sun shone brightly. Maybe they could take a walk and she would be able to find the words to have this discussion with him.

She turned and was brought up short, he was standing right behind her.  Damn she hadn’t even heard him move.  “Whoa.”

He steadied her with his hands on her shoulders.  “What’s going on Sweetheart, you okay?”

She nodded and fiddled with the tie on her robe.  She had showered after her so-called workout but hadn't dressed yet.  “I know you just woke up, but could we maybe go for a walk?”

Something was up, he could see it in the way she was fidgeting and unease swirled her eyes closer to brown than green.  “Sure, let’s get dressed and we’ll go.”  He was curious to find out what exactly was troubling his girl.

~

Richie adjusted his ball cap and slipped his sunglasses on as they passed through the hotel doors.  Stephanie couldn’t help the smirk that crossed her lips.

“What?”  Richie asked as his hand found hers.

“Does Jon know you stole his disguise?”

Richie chuckled as they moved away from the hotel.   "It's the standard rock star disguise. It was issued to all of us, not just Jon."

She laughed and they continued to walk.  He drew her toward the first coffee shop they came upon, needing some caffeine and food.  They found a quiet corner table where they sipped their coffee.  A cinnamon bun nearly the size of her head sat on a plate between them, the icing dripping off the edge of the plate leaving a milky white puddle on the table. Richie set his thick, white mug on the table and reached across the wood expanse, covering her hand with his.  "Are you going to tell me what's going on with you today, sweetheart?"

She sighed and met his gaze.  "I got offered a promotion and I'm not sure I want it."  She had decided to tackle the easier of the two topics to start with.

Long fingers stroked across the back of her wrist.  “I thought you liked your job.  Why wouldn’t you want the promotion?”  He wasn’t one hundred percent sure what she did, exactly, but he knew she wasn’t unhappy at her job.  At least he thought so.  She had never complained to him about it at any rate.

She watched his fingers move back and forth across her skin, felt the heat of his touch all the way up her arm.  “I do like my job, but I’m not sure I want all that this promotion entails.”  She had thought more about the duties of the position and it sounded more and more like the job she had had before Mark and Ben had died.  She wasn’t sure she wanted all that responsibility again.

He picked up his mug and tipped his head back, swallowing the last of his coffee.  “What all does this new position entail?”  He set his mug back on the table and met her gaze with his.

Stephanie reached over and picked up the insulated carafe the waitress had left and filled his mug again.  “A lot more administrative duties than I have now.  Answering the phones, scheduling appointments, all the things I left behind when I left New York.”  And, if she was being honest, she was secretly hoping she wouldn’t have to do again.

Richie didn’t say anything for a long moment.  They hadn’t ever really talked about her life back in New York.  She talked about Mark and Ben, but not herself.  “Tell me about who you were back in New York.”

She stared at him blankly, taken by surprise at his request.  “You already know about that part of my life.”

He shook his head.  “I know about Mark and Ben.  Not about you though, not really.”  He lifted his hand from hers and held his palm up, silently inviting her to lace her fingers with his.  “I want to know about who you were.”

With her fingers entwined with his she told him about herself.  About being a wife and a mother, about her job, about her family, her friends, both the jovi ones and the non-jovi ones, the concerts, working with habitat for humanity, her love of books that led her to the job here.

He watched her carefully as she talked.  Her eyes were so expressive.  Every emotion sparked a slight change in color to the kaleidoscope, brown and green warring for the lead.

When she stopped talking she picked at the cinnamon roll, waiting for him to say something.

He waited for her to look up at him.  “Why would you work at a job for so long if you weren’t happy doing it?”

She gave a slight shrug.  “I wasn’t necessarily unhappy, it just got to be more of a chore after a while.  But, bills needed to be paid, we needed to eat.”  She shrugged again. She just did what she needed to do.  And it wasn’t just her.  Mark did his share too.

Richie nodded.  He could understand having to do whatever it took to take care of your family.  It was how he was raised.  His mom and dad had both worked, his dad harder than most he knew.  But, she had resources now, why should she be stuck doing a job she wasn’t passionate about?

He watched her pick at the cinnamon roll again.  “You know, you really lit up when you were talking about working with Habitat.”  At her quizzical look he continued.  “You enjoy that right?”  She nodded.  “So why don’t you focus on that and quit your job?  You don’t need the paycheck, right?”

Stephanie wiped her hands on her napkin.  She hadn’t considered that.  She could give up her job to someone that really needs the paycheck and just volunteer with Habitat.  Why not?  An idea started to take root.  She’d have to make some phone calls when she got back on Monday.  A smile crept across her face.  “That’s something I hadn’t even thought of, but you’re right.  Thanks for the idea.”  She squeezed his hand and her smile faded.  Now she had to tackle a much more important issue.

Her smile faded so fast, he wasn’t sure it had actually crossed her face.  There was more on his girl’s mind.  Richie dug into his pocket and dropped a couple of folded bills on the table.  “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

They walked quietly for a while, their linked hands swinging between them.  “What else is on your mind today, Sweetheart?”

Her gaze dropped to her shoes before drifting up to his face.  “You.”

Together they slowed at a crosswalk, waiting for the light to change.  Richie scanned his brain, trying to figure out just what about him could be bothering her.  He couldn’t come up with anything he might have done to upset her, but with some women, you just had to look at them the wrong way and you were in trouble.  He cast a sidelong glance at Stephanie as they crossed the street.  She wasn’t that kind of woman.  She didn’t look like she was mad at him either.  So, what the hell did he do?

They walked back into the hotel and he guided her through the lobby and out the back toward the pool and patio.  It was unusually quiet for a sunny Vegas afternoon and they were able to score a secluded table without any hassle.  Keeping her hand in his he leaned across the table.  “What did I do that has you all tied up in knots today, Sweetheart?”

She squeezed his hand, hopefully reassuringly.  “It’s not anything you did.  Not really.”

His brow furrowed in concern and confusion.  If he hadn’t done anything, why did he have this feeling of dread in the pit of his stomach all of a sudden?  “Why don’t you just lay it out for me so I know where we’re headed here?”

Stephanie swallowed and took a breath.  “I’m worried about you.  You haven’t been yourself lately.  The phone conversations we’ve had over the last month I could hear it in your voice. And, you’ve been drinking.  A lot.”

Richie leaned back in his seat, keeping his fingers curled with hers.  He wanted to be mad at her for poking her nose in his business, but, he looked across the table at her.  He couldn’t do it.  The concern in her pretty eyes wouldn’t let him.  He should be thankful it was her and not Jon calling him on his behavior lately.

He shifted in his seat.  He had been spiraling and he knew it.  He had tried to hide it, thought he had done a good job of it, but apparently she had seen right through him.

“You’re right, sweetheart and I’m sorry I made you worry.  I could offer up a thousand excuses, but the truth is, falling back in the bottle was a lot easier than facing the stress of my situation.”

She gripped his fingers tighter.  “Don’t be sorry.  I lo-care about you, so I’m going to worry. Just like you worry about me.  It goes with the territory.  Just tell me you’re going to do something about it.”  Her eyes found his, “please?”  She knew it was hard to ask for help, but, she didn’t want him to end up back where he had been a few years ago.  She, and every other fan of his and the band had seen what he went through and she didn’t want him to put himself through that again.

His eyes widened at her near slip.  She loved him?  He caught her gaze.   She loved him.  He could see it there in her eyes.  So, he’d do this.  He would get himself the help he obviously needed and be the best Richie he could be for her.  He’d get clean, for both of them.   He contemplated his options.  He really only had one choice.  He’d have to talk to Jon first, but there was really only one way to do this and he would have to commit to the full 30 days.  Again.

He tugged her hand gently as he stood, pulling her up from her chair and into his embrace, pressing a kiss to her temple.  “Let’s go upstairs.  I need to talk to Jon.”

The elevator ride was quiet, each lost in their own thoughts.  When the doors opened on their floor, Stephanie followed him out and down the hall.  Richie stopped in front of Jon’s door, “I shouldn’t be long, sweetheart.”

She nodded and took a step toward their room down the hall, “okay.”  She fished her key out of her purse and looked up to find him watching her, an odd look on his face.  “Rich?"

He beckoned her back with a crook of his finger.  “C’mere.”  He wrapped her in his arms.  “You’re awfully quiet.”

She let her arms wander up and slide around his neck.  “Just thinking about things.”

He nodded and pressed a kiss to her forehead.  “We’re okay, you know.  It’s all right that you called me on my shit.”  He watched the relief cross her face.  “Never be afraid to talk to me, sweetheart.  About anything.”

She smiled, relieved that she hadn't overstepped her bounds by cornering him about his drinking.  She lifted her mouth to his.  “Okay.”

He slid a hand up her side, brushing her hair back from her face.  “I love you.”  He felt her stiffen in his arms, but he didn’t let her go.  He didn’t expect to get a response, but he had to tell her.  And now seemed as good a time as any.  He was a patient man, he could wait for her to reciprocate.  She would, eventually.

She stared up at him, not sure what to say, not able to say anything really.  He loved her?  How?  Why?  She closed her eyes.  She wasn’t ready for this.  She opened her eyes again and stared blindly at his adam’s apple.  “I can’t-” she tried to pull away.  “I’m not-.”  She finally looked up at him, “please let me go.” 

He loosened his grip, his arms sliding from her waist, and took her hands instead.  “I know you can’t or won’t say the words back to me, sweetheart.  But I needed to tell you where I’m at.” 

She didn’t say anything.

“It’s okay, go on into our room and get ready to go.  We’ll be heading over to MGM soon.”  He leaned down and kissed her cheek before he knocked on Jon’ s door.  “It’s okay” he whispered again.

Behind them the door opened.  “What do you two want?”

Stephanie fled to their room and Richie turned to Jon.  “I need to talk to you, man.”