Who Dazzled Who
Previously: The investigators end their lunch at The Balboa while Jeannie’s brother gives her some hard truths.
3:35 PM - Sunday, November 2, 2014
Lower Pacific Heights, San Francisco
Jeannie wasn’t asleep but she wasn’t quite awake either. Her face resting on Chris’ warm bicep, the clean smell of him…she didn’t want to move. How does he do it? How does he get me naked inside of 30 seconds? It defied imagining. She could feel his pulse in her temple. She realized they were naked on the living room floor, barely making it to the rug before devouring each other. As they always did.
The house — the house Chris inherited from his grandparents a few years ago — was actually a set of Victorian flats on Pine Street. He used it as an income property for years, but moved in when he came back to San Francisco from New York to be with Jeannie. They moved in together, planning to convert it back into one house at some point. Jeannie loved the old place, always seeing the potential for it too. Just a few projects and it could be light-filled, with better flow, bigger rooms — still charming but slightly modern. They wanted it to be a gathering place for friends and family someday - at least, that had always been the idea. She hated giving it up, surrendering a home she loved — a man she loved. She hated leaving Chris, and hated herself for going. She hated almost everything about the last 4 months.
She knew this was why she was avoiding his calls, trying not to think of him: they’d just end up working it out with their bodies instead of saying what needed to be said. She knew there’d be no talking at all. Still, he always ended up being unavoidable, not that she really wanted to avoid him. She knew she had to at least be honest about that. Whatever magnetism between them had its own language. It was the normal, every day language they had trouble speaking. That didn’t stop how much they wanted each other though. She knew the second they saw each other at the bar that the afternoon would end this way, and she wanted it to, even if her pride said otherwise. She wanted exactly what had happened: him going to his knees in front of her on the floor, barely inside the door, yanking her jeans down, because he couldn’t stand it any more, the way she couldn’t stand it either.
She groaned slightly and opened her eyes to see his, those deep blue pools she knew so well. They were familiar but new again right now. Something in his gaze was so…yearning. They just looked at each other for a long moment before Chris kissed her softly. Then deeper. Then she was wrapped in his arms, kissing him, entangled with him all over again. Kissing Chris Rossi was always her favorite thing to do, at least since the first time he kissed her almost five years ago. His perfect, full lips (and what they did do to her) were her constant preoccupation. Why, in all the years they’d known each other had they never kissed sooner? What a waste of time.
“Chris —” She said softly. He pulled back, gently biting her hip as he flipped her over, pushing her knees forward. His hands locked on her hips as he entered her fully from behind, then slowing to take her again, moving so deeply her mind spun. God, the man could not be hotter.
“Fuck, Jeannie.” He sighed, “you feel so fucking good.” All she could do was whimper in response. She hated to admit that whenever Chris was around, her body would always betray her. She couldn’t help it — it was like there was something under her skin that made her have to touch him, know him. Was her body betraying her or was it doing exactly what it knew best? She didn’t know any more. “I’ve missed you so much,” he whispered. This admission exploded her last barrier. He reached around her, stroking her until she came around him in a yelp. He followed her, collapsing on top of her, his mouth on her shoulder as he groaned deeply.
He rolled to her side, panting; she loved that look he had — Chris’ post-sex look was a mix of wonder, joy, victory, and disorientation. It was always followed by a smile that made his eyes dance. She hadn’t seen it in a while. Everything about the past year passed through her mind, slowing her enjoyment. She bit her lip, looking at him. His mouth, his chin, his jawline, his neck, his muscles - she wanted all of them all at once. He moved his fingers over her skin lightly, tenderly.
“What are you doing?” She whispered after a second, delighting in his touch.
“Just making sure your freckles are where they should be.” He whispered back, still out of breath.
“My freckles.” She smiled slightly.
“You know they drive me crazy.” He lightly kissed her shoulder blade. Jeannie propped her arm up on her elbow and rested her head on her fist to look at him.
“We haven’t done this in a long time.” She said simply.
“Mmm.” He replied. “It hasn’t been that long.” She could hardly think with the way his fingertips moved over her skin. “You conveniently forget the Fleet Week party.”
“Oh, yeah, I blotted that out.” Her brother PJ hosted an annual Fleet Week party, well, first annual, since he’d bought a condo on the north side of Russian Hill overlooking the bay. It had the perfect view for the Blue Angels air show.
“Why would you have blotted that out?” Chris asked softly, now following his fingers down her spine with his mouth. She closed her eyes, trying not to let her mind reel away.
“Because,” she breathed deeply, “I don’t ever need my brother to know how we were christening his guest room while the planes roared out the window.”
“Mmmm.” Chris said again, and then kissed her on the lips softly. “See, and that’s exactly the kind of thing I wouldn’t mind him knowing.” He narrowed his brows mischievously. “And the planes were the perfect cover.” He gave her his slow smile and she chuckled softly. That was barely a month ago, and not only had Jeannie blotted it out as a moment of weakness, but she wasn’t sure if she regretted it or not. It was all confused. On that day in October it had been months since they’d even been in the same room, and the moment they were…well, things happen. She was in love with him and had zero resistance to him; another thing she needed to be honest about. After that, the long silence was broken and he was messaging and calling nearly every day. And now? She didn’t want to regret any of it. Maybe that was just her pride, or her bitterness which Brandon had called out. She knew she didn’t want to be bitter.
She loved Chris, not just because he heated her body with pleasure, but he was her best friend, and confidante, and her absolute rock. At least he used to be. The pleasure part was clearly still there, but what about the rest of it?
“Well, we’re on a break, Chris.” Chris sighed and pulled back, looking her in the eyes.
“Oh is that what’s going on?” He challenged. “Break time over.”
“Is it?”
“Jesus, Jeannie. What’s it gonna take?
“Take for what, Chris?” She shook her head slightly. “This isn’t one of your negotiations.”
“Everything is a negotiation.” Chris said, shifting to lean on his hand, mirroring her. Jeannie rolled her eyes.
“Only if you’re willing to listen to the other party.” Chris was caught by this. “My work is a constant negotiation too, you know. Both parties state what they want, and then both come to a consensus —”
“Jean.”
“— By LISTENING to each other.” She finished.
“Jeannie.” He started softly. “I’m listening.”
“Are you?”
“Of course I am - I’m right here.” He gently moved her hair back from her face.
“Well, that’s a change.”
“What do you mean? I’m always here.”
“What? No you’re not.” Chris scoffed. “You’re not. You’re ALWAYS working. You’re off all the time with your team, schmoozing, and conferences, and events, and funding the next IPO — and even when you were around you would barely look at me, never mind the silent treatment you gave me.”
“That isn’t true.”
“It IS true, Chris.” Now she was mad. He was trying to re-write the scenario. “I love that you’re all “I don’t know what happened, I don’t know why you left” when you were here too and you know exactly what was going on in this house and that it wasn’t good.” She pushed herself up to standing, snatching Chris’ fisherman sweater off the floor and tugging it on.
“Where are you going?”
“I’m going pee and then I’m going home, since for all your “we need to talk” you clearly don’t want to be honest with me. It’s not worth talking if you’re going to gloss over things.” She went into the powder room just off the entry and shut the door. Looking at herself in the mirror she loved and hated what she saw. She loved seeing herself in the cozy oversized-ness of Chris’ sweater, his scent surrounding her, the residuals of both their bodies all over her. She looked flushed and well-loved and satisfied, but her heart hurt so much. Chris called to her from the living room.
“Jeannie - c’mon, that’s not fair. We have to talk about this.” She wiped a tear away as she washed her hands.
“Are you going to be real, Chris? Because this - whatever we’re in right now - didn’t just happen.” She said simply, emerging from the powder room. “I’m still not sure we’re ready to talk about it.” She huffed.
“What do you mean?”
“You know how it is with us: talking, bad, fucking, good.” He smiled at her from the floor and she tried to ignore how sexy he looked. The mighty Chris Rossi, naked, on the floor, for her.
“That’s not how it used to be. It used to be talking, good, fucking, good…all of it was good. Fantastic, actually.” He gave her that smile, the one. She had to steel herself. “We talked about everything.” He raised his eyebrows. “We fucked about everything.”
“You talked, I listened.” She said quickly, ignoring the last part. Their sex life was never in dispute— that was the easy part. Chris moaned, exasperated, leaning his head back and looking at the ceiling.
“Oh here we fucking go.”
“For as long as I can remember Chris, you’ve been able to talk your way into or out of anything. How old was I when you absolutely dazzled me with your talk for the first time? 14? 18?” He sighed, and looked at her. Eyes flashing.
“Who dazzled who, Jeannie?” He said slowly, quietly. There was a long moment. This was a dare — the storm was about to break.
“Okay, well, you seem to forget a lot of what’s happened in the last few months. And, I doubt you really want to talk about it, since you want to play stupid games and bait me.” Her voice rising. “But sure, make me the bad guy.” She yelled, turned to the left to go down the hall to the kitchen.
“Wait Jeannie - where are you going?” He called, she heard him struggling to get up.
“I’m getting some water. Isn’t that allowed?” She called back sarcastically. She walked into the kitchen four steps and stopped dead, disbelieving what she was seeing. It was the same place but completely different. She heard Chris in the doorway, and she turned to see him yanking his pants up in a rush. “What the hell happened in here?”
“I wanted to surprise you,” he said, panting.
“Well,” Jeannie began softly, wide-eyed, “I’m surprised.” Surprised, shocked, disbelieving. Here it was, her dream kitchen. The kitchen she had planned and designed and selected and sourced and thought about and re-worked and tore apart and redesigned in her mind so many times in the two years she’d lived in this house. The kitchen Chris had always said they didn’t have the time or money to renovate. Or that it would make more sense if they waited, or it would be better to do it the next year or the next…but here it was. Plain English with rich cream cabinets in an eggshell finish and deep bronze hardware. Marble countertops with a pale sage green vein. The original wood floor refinished and stained a rich dark tone, beautiful vintage-looking pendants down the center, and a coordinating fixture over the eat-in table. The late afternoon sun streaming in from the new, larger windows over the garden. And the backsplash.“That’s the tile…”
“The tile you wanted, yeah.”
“When…when did this happen?” She was looking around dazedly, taking in the smell of fresh paint.
“They finished just about a week ago.” Chris said quietly from the doorway. Jeannie nodded slowly, turning to him. A tear fell from her eye. There he was: perfect, shirtless, his grass-stained golf pants barely zipped. It was too much. He was too much; he always was. Or maybe I’m not enough.
“Why now, Chris?” Her voice cracking. She saw him sigh. “I mean, I begged you for months, years even. I begged for this kitchen, but it was never the right time. You never wanted to do it or deal with it or pay for it or whatever. Even when I landed the budget and said I’d do most of the work. And you know I wanted to pay for it. I had the money. Mom left me that money and told me I should use it on the house.” Chris flinched. “You always had a reason why not. But once I move out you renovate the whole thing?” She shook her head, mouth dry. “I mean…it just doesn’t make sense.” The tears kept coming and she didn’t stop them.
“Um.” He started softly, moving toward her a slowly. “I ah…I closed that deal, got a bonus - a big bonus. And, I wanted to do this, for you. So you’d come back home. Because this is your home, your home with me.” He said it quietly, his eyes pleading. “I - I was trying to plan a date with you, to get you to come over, and make you dinner, and surprise you with it all but you wouldn’t call me back.” His strong shoulders sagging. He looked so vulnerable and earnest. It would be so easy to just reach for him and wrap her arms around his beautiful body and cry and say yes and agree to everything. But it would all go back to the way it was.
Don’t avoid the uncomfortable conversation. Steph’s words came to her.
“Well, this was something we were supposed to do together, remember? Build a home, together?” Chris looked abashed, and Jeannie felt like shit saying it considering it was exactly what she wanted. He followed her plans exactly, right down to the stunning deep green, impossible-to-source, handmade Moroccan tile on the backsplash that had been on her Pinterest board for years.
How was it possible to be both thrilled and heartbroken in the same moment? Brandon was right: the two of them were a mess, and this situation couldn’t go on.
TO BE CONTINUED…