Contessa (78 page)

“
Well, my little girl
’
s learning words I don
’
t use,
”
he sighs.
“
Guess you really are growing up.
”
Jon
’
s arms snake around my waist from behind as he kisses the back of my neck.

“
Yeah, I am, Daddy.
”

“
Alright, well, I don
’
t want to keep you. Your mother and I are taking Jackson to dinner with us. We don
’
t want to miss our reservations tonight.
”
Jon
’
s lips travel across my shoulders, his hands now grasping my hips.

“
That sounds really romantic,
”
I tease him.
“
Happy Valentine
’
s Day, huh?
”

“
It
’
ll be fine,
”
he says.
“
Mom dressed him in a suit with a red bow tie. If we don
’
t leave that restaurant with thirty phone numbers for him, something is wrong with the world.
”
He laughs, and I hear my mother laugh in the background with him.

“
Awww. I
’
m sorry I
’
m missing that,
”
I tell him with sincerity. Jon releases me, then takes my hand in his and squeezes tightly. He leans against the sill, watching me wrap up the call.
“
Will you take a picture?
”

“
Of course, Tessa. Enjoy your evening.
”

“
You, too, Dad. See you at nine.
”
Jon walks over to me and puts his hand around the phone, pulling it away from my ear slowly as I hear my dad continuing to talk.

“
Alright, good bye. Oh, wait. Your mom wants to talk to you.
”

“
Jon!
”
I scold him.
“
They
’
re still on!
”

“
Hello?
”
he says sheepishly, listening intently. I watch him as his expression changes to one of concern and guilt.
“
Yes, ma
’
am, happy Valentine
’
s Day to you as well.
”
He laughs a little at whatever my mom says.
“
Well, the library is much less populated this afternoon. We almost have the whole place to ourselves. Yes, ma
’
am.
”

He starts to give the phone back to me.
“
Yes, ma
’
am?
”
I mouth the words quietly. He shrugs and pushes the phone into my hand.

“
Hey, Mom.
”

“
Your aunt had a cake sent over. It
’
s white cake with strawberries and buttercream icing. Since you two aren
’
t really celebrating the holiday tonight, I thought you might want to come back here for a little slice. Just something to do that
’
s not like every other week.
”

I feel a twinge of guilt.
“
Yeah, I
’
ll see if we can wrap things up a little early. Thanks.
”

“
Have a good night, sweetie.
”

“
You, too, Mom.
”

“
Bye.
”
I hang the phone up and set it next to my easel.

“
Sorry,
”
Jon says apologetically.
“
Did you like how I was trying to help you define libidinous for your dad?
”

I laugh and slap him lightly on his shoulder.
“
I know what you were doing.
”
He pulls me closer and we kiss a few more times. I feel his hands hovering around the clasp of my bra, but feel certain he
’
ll leave it fastened for now. He does.

“
How about a few vocab flash cards?
”
he asks as he walks toward my messenger bag.

“
Really?
”

“
Just a few. Just so your excuses won
’
t be complete lies.
”

“
And then what? We go to a sandwich shop for dinner?
”

“
I saw a new one down the street.
‘
Grand Opening,
’
the sign said.
”

“
We
’
re getting it to go. And we
’
re coming back here.
”

“
Yes, ma
’
am,
”
he says as he starts to put his shirts back on. He tosses me my sweater.
“
The V goes in the front.
”

“
Yes, sir,
”
I tease him back, pulling it over my head.

We take the flash cards with us as we walk to the nearby café. He quizzes me along the way, rewarding me with a kiss every time I get a question right. We take a break to eat our dinner, but continue our studying on the way back, the streetlights providing light for Jon to read me the cards.

We don
’
t have much time when we get back to the loft, but we both find ourselves on the bed together, kissing slowly and getting more involved in our activities than either of us had planned. After a few minutes of trying to catch our breaths, we start packing up my things, leaving us with about thirty minutes for me to get home.

I feel my phone vibrate in my pocket on our way out, notifying me of a text message. My hands full, I can
’
t access it, so I ask Jon if he can set something down and get it. He gladly does, taking the opportunity to touch me inappropriately one last time. After he gets the phone out, he
’
s quiet behind me.

“
Who
’
s it from?
”
I ask him.

“
Your mom,
”
he says after swallowing audibly. I can hear apprehension in his voice, and I turn around to see his face, ghostly white.

“
What
’
s it say?
”

He holds up the phone to me as he recites the message aloud.
“
Bring the key to the loft with you after you lock up.
”

I stare blankly out the passenger side window as Jon drives my car. He
’
d taken my keys from me when we left the loft, insisting I wasn
’
t in any shape to drive. I
’
d been freaking out since we read the text.
My parents are going to kill me.

I only recognize my surroundings when he pulls up to my house. We were supposed to go by his apartment first. I was supposed to arrive home alone to face my mom and dad.

“
You shouldn
’
t be here,
”
I try to convince Jon as he parks my car.
“
You can
’
t come in–
”

“
I
’
m coming in. This day was my idea, and I
’
m not letting you take all the blame.
”
We both sit in the car. I know he
’
s waiting for me to get out, but I
’
m paralyzed with fear.

“
My dad just might kill you.
”

“
He will not. If he didn
’
t before, he won
’
t now. He
’
s never hurt a fly, you
’
ve told me this.
”

“
This might be the thing that puts him over the edge, though. Skipping school, going to the loft, lying about what we
’
re doing, making out–
”

“
They don
’
t need to know about the last one.
”

“
Well what do you think they think we did all day over there? If you say study, I
’
ll tell you right now, I don
’
t know enough vocabulary words to talk my way out of this.
”

“
You
’
re right,
”
he says with a sigh.
“
I thought you paid off the doormen.
”

“
I did! I don
’
t know how they know.
”

“
It doesn
’
t matter. What matters is they
do
know, and we need to go deal with it.
”

“
I
need to go deal with it.
”

“
I
’
m not going home until I know what your consequences are.
”
Begrudgingly, I get out of the car, leaving all of my belongings behind except for my phone and the key. Jon gets out, too, and meets me on my side.

“
If he swings, I just want you to run–
”

“
He
’
s not going to swing. And if he does, you come with me.
”

I smile at the idea and nod.
“
Okay.
”

“
Okay,
”
he whispers and kisses me once at the front step.
“
Let
’
s go.
”

Our hands tightly grasped, we walk in the front door, bracing for the worst.

“
Hey, kids,
”
my dad says, his tone friendly, barely looking up from his computer. Trey is leaning on his arm, falling asleep.

“
So you two decided to come for some cake after all, huh?
”
I look at my mom, dumbfounded.

“
Cake?
”
Jon says. I pull my phone out of my pocket and re-read the message, checking to see if we
’
d both misread it, even though I know we didn
’
t.

“
Oh, Livvy, was it a surprise?
”
The way my mom
’
s glaring at me lets me know she
’
s trying to get me to play along.

“
Yeah. Surprise,
”
I tell Jon, my statement completely underwhelming.

“
I was going to have a piece with you guys, but I was just about to put Trey to bed. He wanted me to read him a story.
”

“
Poppet, I
’
ll take him,
”
my dad says.
“
I need a break from this spreadsheet, anyway.
”

“
You
’
re sure?
”
she asks him sweetly. I look over to Jon quickly, who
’
s glancing with uncertainty from one of my parents to the other.

“
Of course.
”
He shuts his laptop and puts it on the coffee table. His movements rouse my brother, and Dad picks him up, carrying him to his room.

“
You may want to close the door,
”
Mom suggests,
“
just in case we
’
re a little loud.
”
He nods and shuts the door behind them. She walks into the kitchen, motioning for us to follow her. She puts the cake on the kitchen island and takes out a large knife, setting it down with force next to the plates that were already out for us. She holds out her hand to me.

I stare at her, still in shock.

“
I think she wants the key,
”
Jon says quietly.