XXXVII

Frédérique took a deep breath and tried to recover from Jon’s attack: she felt so exposed she might as well have been standing naked in the kitchen. She desperately tried to prevent her frustration from showing by smiling weakly, but her eyes betrayed her and she was seriously contemplating the possibility of lying when Jon interjected.

“Don’t lie to me, Fred” his voice was stern but warm, concealing his struggle to keep his own emotions under control: the pain he saw in Frédérique’s eyes washed over him and almost made him wince. “I can see that you’re heartbroken”, he added with concern.

“Then why did you ask in the first place? It’s not hard to guess, is it?”, Frédérique replied tartly and smirked ironically rolling her eyes. Even more annoying that Jon’s intrusion and her own defeat was the fact that she felt she was at the verge of losing her temper: Jon made her feel vulnerable and defenseless and she could do nothing but be sincere.

Jon was amazed at Frédérique’s dexterity in evading the subject, but he was glad that she hadn’t shut down completely and was, at least, talking. Frédérique buried her face in the coffee cup - maybe when she looked up again he’d be gone, or she could buy herself some time while she came up with a way out of the situation. But no: his bright, piercing, inquiring blue eyes were still there, waiting for her to continue talking, and she found no other way out than to be honest. “I can deal with this alone, Jon” – she sighed and spoke defiantly – “It’s my pain to deal with and it’s nobody else’s business”.

“I worry about you, that’s all. I care for you, Fred” Jon told her with a soft and tender tone, then stood up and circled the bar to join Frédérique in the kitchen. He admired her self-control and fierce self-defense, but he could see past that into her pain and wished he could do something to stop it.

“Yes, I know. I’m thankful for that”. Frédérique forced a smile and nodded. “You’re a good man, Jon, I know your intentions are good, but sometimes you can’t control everything – things and specially people are not yours to tamper with”, Frédérique said with a low and relaxed voice.

Jon squeezed her waist with one hand and moved it up and down on Frédérique’s side, involuntarily taking the frabric of her blouse along with his hands in each stroke. For a few moments Jon found himself lost in the feel of the satiny skin the tip of his pinky was brushing and dizzied by her sweet but fresh strawberry and coconut scent while Frédérique relaxed at Jon’s kindness and support. It was so comfortable. Too comfortable. At the same time Jon suddenly was able to remind himself of the task at hand and they both simultaneously spun away from each other. Frédérique looked at him in the eyes and spoke with confidence. “I’ll be alright” – she nodded softly – “I’m always alright in the end” as she jumped up and sat on the kitchen counter.  

Maybe that was true, Jon thought, she’d survive. “But what are ya gonna do about the project?” he tried as casually as possible and leaned back against the counter, then had a sip of his coffee.

“Well, the main part of my job - which is the design - is finished and I need to focus on the museum now” answered Frédérique with her usual business tone, as if it was any other ordinary project, but Jon picked the hint of sadness in her voice. “So after the permit is approved I’m handing it to Gaby who is usually more in charge of the construction process. Maybe I should have to supervise her, but I can do that from the office”. She was so fiercely trying to act as if nothing had ever happened that Jon was surprised she even acknowledged ever having met him. There was a pause. Frédérique was feeling confident by now that she could handle Jon’s inquiries, but his next question shocked her.

“Will ya tell me what happened?”, Jon was overly cautious and very aware that she could shut down after that, but he had to give it a shot before she regained control of the conversation.

Frédérique chuckled throatily at his audacity, but took a moment to think before speaking. “It all happened so fast…and then too many things just went wrong. Then bad timing and bad luck did the rest, I guess” – she shrugged – “And then I made a fool of myself by showing up there...” - she stopped to sigh sharply and shake her head, still not being able to believe how stupid and naïve she’d been. Frédérique turned to look at Jon’s face: he was so gorgeous and charming and handled his aura of sex with disturbing easiness and openness. Under different circumstances no doubt she would have fallen hard for him.

But Jon wasn’t satisfied with Frédérique’s answer, there wasn’t anything in it that he didn’t already know, and she already knew that, but took his silence as an acceptance. Then Jon stood in front of her and grasped her knees. She tried to prepare herself for a deeper investigation.

“We need to do something about Richie. You need to get him back. He can’t be with her, he’ll go down, I know it. He says he’s OK but I know he isn’t”. Jon bombarded frantically in one breath, his face only inches from hers. Frédérique frowned silently when she heard Richie’s name and immediately felt the urge to run - as far as she could - but Jon was blocking her way out of the kitchen. She only had her words to fight with.

“No” she raised her voice in exasperation “He doesn’t need rescuing. He has made his own choices”, she paused and ordered “Stop treating him like a child”.   

“Maybe when you stop behaving like one I will” he countered with frustration.

“I’m not one of your subjects, Jon”, Frédérique defied sarcastically and tried to jump off the counter but Jon pinned her down by grabbing her hips.

“C’mon, let’s talk about it, what was it that went wrong?” Jon inquired in a loud whisper, as warmly as he could - she was shutting down.

Frédérique closed her eyes tight and tried to push Jon back by his shoulders but didn’t succeed so she spoke in a loud and firm voice, emphasizing with her head. “There’s nothing to talk about, there’s nothing to save. Don’t tell me what I have to do”. She took a deep breath to calm down and then she raised her eyes to meet Jon’s. “He’s moved on”.  

“That’s because you threw him into Nikki’s arms, what were you expecting him to do, huh?”, Jon frowned but his eyes kept piercing Frédérique’s, and she could feel his hot breath on her face. In his eyes she could also see how truly concerned he was for his friend.

Frédérique lifted her face up to stare at the ceiling “You’re unbelievable”, then she lowered her face to look at Jon and blurted out everything she had been holding inside, all she wanted was for Jon to stop his inquisition and leave, so she tried to cover all his possible remaining questions. “I won’t go to his house and beg for his love. He has made his choice, he’s with her now. If he regrets it it’s not my problem. She’s everything he needs and I was just strong enough to walk away before I became something I didn’t want to be: her”. She closed her eyes when she realized how much anger and frustration was present in her voice, so she took another deep breath and spoke in a calm and soft way.

“Look”, she sighed and ran her hands through her hair to pull it off from over her face, “this is precisely why I walked away: I don’t need this drama, I don’t need to make a scene or beg for anybody’s love. My life was peaceful and quiet and balanced, and look at me now. I don’t need this”. She continued to shake her head even after she had finished speaking.

Jon was speechless and again, he could see past the façade she was trying to put up. Whatever wall she built, he felt he could easily walk through it, and he could see the pain and heartbreak and disappointment behind it. She wasn’t entirely wrong after all, Richie hadn’t made the best of choices and the universe did seem to have conspired against them. He decided against trying to work his way around her reluctance to speak about the subject anymore, all he wanted was to hold her so he caged her in his arms and held her until her muscles started to relax, and her breathing became softer.

“I know I hurt him, but he hurt me, too” she whispered with her face buried in Jon’s shoulder. She was mad at herself for having unloaded like that, she shouldn’t have taken it out on anybody - she should have waited until it disappeared in the emptiness inside herself. She blamed Jon for having pushed her so far, but at the same time appreciated his honest comfort and support. What she didn’t appreciate was the tickling in her ear caused by his stubble.

As he held Frédérique, Jon realized that he was the one losing the game now: he didn’t care about the answers and the reasons anymore, about finding out the truth or about fixing things. It seemed to cause her too much pain and he didn’t want it to be on his account. Besides, she was right: what was he to do? Richie had his reasons and she had hers. Maybe it was time that he realized that some things were beyond fixing and this seemed to be one of them - he thought he’d never see the day when there was something he couldn’t fix, but knew deep inside that if it came, Sambora would be somehow involved in it.

Jon silently loosened his embrace and took a step back, then took Frédérique’s hands in his and gently pulled her down the counter. She frowned with puzzlement. What’s he doing?. Then he tugged her to the living room, made her stand in front of him and circled her waist with one arm. “You’re crazy”, she rolled her eyes and chuckled when she realized what he was doing. Patsy Cline was singing “Crazy arms” and he started swinging to the rhythm of the music.

“Shhhh” he whispered huskily, “Just humor me, ok?”, and pressed his cheek against her temple. She shook her head and smirked, but how could she resist? After some moments, she pushed him back and untied the knot that held his turtleneck around his waist and was pressing uncomfortably against her stomach. She threw it on top of one of the stools but it fell to the floor as Jon chuckled softly at her nerve and resumed the dancing. She placed her idle hand around Jon's shoulder and let her chin hover over it. In a matter of minutes all the tension that had built inside Frédérique’s body was slowly disappearing.  They silently danced to the music until she spoke again.

“You’re too quiet and tame, are you thinking of another way to attack me?”, she accused teasingly as she pulled her head back to look at Jon in the eyes.

“No, I’m done questioning”, he said softly with a sideways smirk, then pressed his cheek back against Frédérique’s temple and continued swinging to the music.

“What’s the verdict, then?” she asked with a slight frown, she couldn’t help but ask even when she wasn’t sure she wanted to hear the answer.

“You’re both guilty”, he announced with mock solemnity, “of sucking at communicating”.

She couldn’t stop a soft chuckle from coming out of her mouth, together with a hint of sadness and melancholy. He was dead right.

Jon tightened his arm around her waist and spoke secretively against her ear. “Let the pain go, Fred. Whatever it is that hurt you, just let it go. True freedom is being free of fear and until you get rid of fear, it will always rule your choices”.

Frédérique was touched by Jon’s words: he was spot on. Her lips curled in a soft smile, “Yes, maybe you’re right. But I’m just better off by myself. I’m too clumsy and that includes objects and people - if they don't hurt me I end up hurting them”, she reflected out loud. She finally felt she had regained control of the situation, so she ventured to confess. “I’m glad you’re here”. She briefly analyzed that the closeness she felt to Jon came mostly by the closeness he himself held with Richie, and she was holding to that bond to feel nearer to him.  

As soon as Frédérique relaxed against Jon, she felt a certain uneasiness: she knew Jon’s stay would be soon over, and they’d probably never see each other again. He was the last piece of Richie’s world in her life right now, and somehow she didn’t want to let him go - if she did, she'd be letting Richie go for good, too. She noticed that Jon’s heart was beating faster and his breathing had become heavier, his arms pressing her tighter against him. Why was she enjoying it? Why did he seem to enjoy it, too? No. It was wrong, very wrong.

She roughly pulled away. “You need to leave”, she spoke as softly and as politely as she could - the last thing she wanted was to come out as inconsiderate.

Jon stood looking at Frédérique for long moments: despite her strong and self-protective attitude, she looked so vulnerable and beautiful, she was like a delicate but lethal warrior and he found that both endearing and amusing. And absolutely attractive. Yes, he wanted her, but she wasn’t his to take. It was the right thing to leave.

He extended his arm in front of him and combed her hair back off her shoulders, then sighed. “You gonna be alright?”, he asked with concern in a raspy voice. Frédérique nodded silently and forced a weak smile.

They hugged goodbye tightly for a long minute and when it was over, neither of them could find a reason to let the other one go.

Jon knew that the right thing was to leave. Yes, Jon always did the right thing…if his dick didn’t get in the way.