April 1st 1987 / Rumson New Jersey

Amelia awoke in a foreign bed far too soft to be her own. Her body, peculiarly her legs, started to ache before she'd had a chance to open her eyes. Upon smelling the sheets, the memories started to flood back to her. She beamed wildly, eyes flying open to check that her lover hadn't abandoned her through the night. Sure enough he lay there like an angel, his lower half precariously covered by the thin sheets, one hand tucked beneath his wild hair and the other entwined with her own.

He was the epitome of peace in that moment; not a wrinkle of stress or discomfort in sight. Small breaths escaped his parted lips, the warmth of which landed on her palm. Amelia smiled giddily, tucking herself further beneath the covers and watching him.

She felt like a teenager in that motel all over again, she used to spend hours admiring him, waiting for him to wake up and wondering how on earth he could sleep for so long.

He looked so attractive laying there, she couldn't refrain from reaching over to caress his tanned skin. Her fingertips tip-toed across his ribcage, smiling when she saw his nose wrinkle in confusion. He shrugged her off like he would with an itch; her hands returned almost instantly.

It took him a while to realize that the sensation he was feeling was not really an itch. His eyes fluttered open, a beaming smile instantly appeared across his features.

"Mornin'... Angel," he mumbled sleepily, his lazy grin paired with half-closed eyes.

Amelia had forgotten about his morning voice. She just about swooned upon hearing the deep and gravelly tone.

"Good morning," she responded. She could hardly remember a time she'd been so pleased to be awake so early.

He moaned a little deliriously, checking his watch that sat on his bedside. He found it to be eight o'clock. "I'm half surprised you're still here." He shuffled a little closer to her, wrapped her up in his warm embrace.

"Why would you be surprised?" She ran her fingers through his bushy hair, snagging on a knot or two with each pass.

"Mm.. last two times I went to bed next to you I woke up next to David instead. You were a slippery little thing, always sneakin' off."

She giggled. Her leg slipped between both of Jon's in an effort to be closer to him.

"Agh!"

"What?"

"Your feet are ice blocks, get those things away from me."

Amelia took the opportunity to stamp her foot on his legs as much as she could. He wriggled away like a fish out of water; if he were half asleep before then he was surely wide awake now.

"You are a little brat," he teased. "Now come here, give me a kiss."

Amelia happily obliged. She'd missed her morning kisses, she'd grown desensitized to the morning breath and merely enjoyed the intimacy of waking up in someone's arms and kissing them. It was a great start to a day.

"Waking up next to you is like wakin' up next to an angel in heaven," he murmured against her lips.

"I see you haven't lost your devilish charm over the years."

"Never."

His lips could never part from her for too long. They soon danced over the fully-bloomed love bites across his lover's neck and chest. Small moans escaped him as he kissed the well-loved spots; he couldn't help it, he was utterly mad for her. "Y'know, small part of me understands your dad and brother."

Amelia gasped when he nipped especially hard at her collar. "How's that?"

"You're stupidly beautiful darlin'. There are a lot of fiends out there; men of your dad's type tend to lock up their beautiful girls, don't want 'em gettin' corrupted by nasty guys like me."

He crawled back up to her lips with a chuckle. "God, I love you," he grinned, "Just in case you forgot overnight."

She pushed a teasing forefinger into the centre of his chest. "It would've been hard to forget," she smirked, "Not with the way you tried to strangle me over a dozen times throughout the night."

He laughed boyishly. "Sorry babe. Not used to sharin' the bed with someone."

"Oh, I'm sure you've had plenty of experience."

"A'right, you caught me. Maybe I was a little scared you'd sneak off sometime durin' the night, wanted to keep you nice n' snug."

Amelia's brows flattened. "Jon. You need to trust me."

His sigh was one of shame. "Yeah, I know. I do."

"Good, because I have no intention of being a coward. I've done enough running already."

His hand idly caressed her still-curled hair, pausing on a snag. "I've missed waking up to you," he said sincerely.

Amelia snuggled into the covers a little. "Once you've had a taste of what love can do to you it's hard to go back to empty sheets, isn't it?"

"It used to drive me insane," Jon lamented. So much so that he'd taken more than a few groupies to his bed- something he wasn't proud of. It was either mindless sex or drugs, and he chose the lesser of two evils. "All I've thought about all these years is you, and how much I've missed you."

He could hardly keep his hands away from her. Her warmth transferred easily through his fingertips; rejuvenated him after a deathly period of solitude. "I used to pray every night," he continued hoarsely, "Pray that someday you'd come home, back to America, back to Jersey. That someday we'd be together again."

Amelia propped herself up, her head tilting slightly. "You prayed for me?"

"Every night," he answered quickly. "I was pathetic, kneelin' down to a God I'd neglected through all my teenage years, beggin' him to bring back to girl I loved. It was the only thing I could do to calm myself, I used to get myself into real funks." He inhaled a shaky breath. "And then I stopped. It'd been so long, I thought maybe you'd found a man and settled down in England. I lost hope."

Amelia tsked at him. "A man without hope is a captain without a compass. You can have anything if you want it badly enough, you should have contacted me."

"I should," he agreed, casting his eyes downward.

"And I should have told Richie to put me on the phone to you and given you a right bollocking. It would've saved us both a lot of grief."

Jon tucked a hand beneath his hair and chuckled. "I ain't got a clue was bollocking means, darlin', but I'm sure you're right."

Amelia shuffled closer. She felt the warmth of his naked body emanating from him; even the silliest things could make her blush.

"But they say that love grows deeper through separation," she whispered.

"My love's deep enough already. I'm fine havin' you close for the rest of my life." He took the initive to grab her by the hip and drag her closer. "I'll have to get you a ball n' chain."

"That, won't be necessary." She tapped his nose reprovingly.

"Handcuffs then? I'm sure I've got a pair of those lyin' round somewhere."

Amelia gasped and smacked him. "Jon Francis! You know, I rather like to be able to touch you during sex, I enjoy having my own freedom."

"Oh yeah?" He hovered on top of her as he left small butterfly kisses along her cheek and jaw. "Wouldn't you like to be tied up?"

Amelia mocked the absurdity of it, though as Jon lay naked and half aroused on top of her, she couldn't deny she felt a small tickle of arousal.

"I'd sooner get you in a pair of handcuffs," she scoffed.

"Bet." Jon took both her wrists and pinned them above her head. His other hand traced down to the spot between her legs. A feline smirk set across his face.

"You sure you don't want me to tie you up?"

He wiped her wetness off on her thigh. The woman was about red as a tomato.

"I am positive," she affirmed after a momentary stutter.

"You were always an experimentalist, dear," he spoke all proper, "Wouldn't you like to tick Bondage off the list?"

Amelia tried to free her hands but Jon's one-armed grip was too strong. She was effectively helpless in his grasp, helpless to touch him, helpless as he laid sloppy, open mouthed kisses across her lower belly, helpless to administer a reprimanding slap for his foul suggestions!

And she had to admit that she kind of liked not being in control for once. Oh, how was her mind on bondage at 8:30am?

"I like the idea of being able to please you," he spoke between kisses, "And you having no means to stop me, aside from what would be an established safeword, of course."

Amelia felt the first traitorous moan fall from her lips, Jon's subsequent smile spreading across her skin. "Maybe I could even add a blindfold, let you sit there in anticipation."

"Maybe I should gag you," Amelia said breathily, "That way you can stop with all this nonsense."

"Oh baby, your body's betraying you," he laughed. "Look at you, whimpering, moanin', damn wet for me. You know you want me."

"I do want you," she responded. Without warning, Amelia bit down on the bicep of the arm that'd been imprisoning her wrists.

"Ow!" Jon yelped, and in the small period of laxened grip Amelia slipped from beneath him.

"I do want you," she repeated, flipping the pair of them over so she was straddling him. Jon looked half stunned; not only had she bitten him, overpowered him and was now straddling him, but there were now a pair of boobs hardly an inch from his face. He couldn't speak a word. "But it'll be on my terms," Amelia continued.

She kissed him passionately, arms wrapping around his neck and shoulders. "If I had handcuffs here with me then I'd cuff you to the bed," she poked his chest seductively. "But I don't, so you're just going to have to sit there and behave."

"You..you bit me..."

"Yes! I bit you," she laughed, grabbing his bicep harshly and planting a kiss to the small, bruised area. "And I'll do it again if you aren't careful. Now where do you keep your condoms?"

"First drawer.." he said breathlessly. Amelia reached over and ripped one open, sliding it onto his length. "You ready for a ride, cowboy?"

"Oh, I'm ready." He smacked her ass, a small part of him wanting to yell 'giddy-up!'

Amelia rode him like the 'Italian Stallion' she'd so often joked he was. Jon had always revelled in having her on top, it gave him license to bury his face into her bouncing chest.

"You're gonna be the death of me, you know that?" He said breathlessly. She rolled her hips against him at a quickening pace, slamming down on his cock over and over. Amelia enjoyed being on top every once in a while; while it was tiring it was intimate, she could wrap her arms around him and press her entire upper body to him.

And she took pleasure in his facial expressions, he could hardly contain his ecstasy. They came in unison, arms tightly infused around each other.

"I take it back," Jon panted. "You can handcuff me whenever you want."

Amelia chuckled against his sweat-covered skin. "I'll hold you to that."

"Trouble with morning sex is I always want to nap right after it." Amelia fell against his chest contently. "Suppose we should get up soon, maybe have a shower."

"In a bit," Jon hummed. "Let me catch my breath before I even think about getting up."

Jon didn't have much of a chance. The phone at his bedside started to ring.

"Fuckin'.. what kind of piece of shit calls at this hour?"

"It's almost nine, dear," Amelia giggled. She reached over to grab the phone, very aware of how her breasts got shoved into poor Jonny's face. He scowled at her playfully, snatching the phone off her.

"Hello?" He rasped. "Who is this?"

Amelia found it quite thrilling to be sitting naked, still mounted on her boyfriends cock while he spoke to someone on the phone.

"Mom??" His eyes boggled out of his skull. "What are you callin' for? It's 8:45."

Amelia had to suppress her giggle. She leaned in a little closer to glean the trajectory of the conversation.

"I know, I know! I'm sorry," Carol cried. "But I had to call! Your father had to hold me down to stop me from calling you last night. How did it go?!"

"Huh?" Jon rubbed his bleary eyes.

"Your date!" She squealed. "Amelia! How was it?"

"Oh," Jon's eyes flared in understanding. He glanced down at Amelia's hips, at their still-connected bodies. He had the good grace to blush. "Yeah, it went real good."

"It did!? Oh, tell me! Tell your poor old mother."

"Mom, it's early," he whined. "Can't I have a chance to wake up?"

"Don't be ridiculous, just tell me. How'd it go? Did you ask her on a second date? Did you.. you know, kiss?"

Amelia covered her mouth as she giggled.

"What was that?" Carol asked.

"Mom- can I talk to you later? It's a little early to be callin."

"Oh. Oh! Is she there with you now??! Is that it? Was that her?!"

"Calm down, Mom," he repeated, laughing. "I'll call you later, alright?"

"Amelia? Amelia dear, is that you?" The woman sounded crazed. "Jon, this is cruel! Tell your poor old mother."

Jon slung an arm around Amelia's waist and sighed. "Yeah, she's here. Happy?"

"Elated!" The woman screeched. "Oh, good Lord! Does that mean that you're together? When can I see her?"

"Hang on Mom, I've only just got her back for myself."

"Don't be cruel!" She cried. "You have to bring her around, oh, let me speak to her!"

"Mom!"

"Jon Francis! I haven't seen that girl in near four years, I never even had the chance to say goodbye to her! Bring her over for dinner, I'll make her favorite, Matthew's just dying to see her."

Amelia pressed a finger to his lips before he could object.

"It'll be nice," Amelia reasoned quietly. "Say yes, I'd love to see your family."

Jon muttered a string of harrumphs. "Fine, she said yes."

What a grumpy pants.

"Really?! Oh goodness! Let me speak to her, let me say hello!"

"You'll speak to her later," Jon said, and he had to smile at least a little at her enthusiasm. "And me too. I've gotta go."

"Alright, alright. I love you, I'll see you tonight. Oh, how exciting!"

Jon put the phone down before she could start screaming all over again.

"What's the matter with you? Grumpy."

"Nothin', just wanted you to myself for a little while," he tugged her close. "You'll probably have to go home before the weeks out, knowing your parents. I wanted to spend a little time alone with you."

"It's only one night," she reasoned with a kiss. "It'll be lovely to see your parents."

"Yeah, I guess."

Amelia dismounted Jon and lay down beside him. "You didn't tell me you'd told your mother about our date."

"Mom's always askin' after you. If I didn't tell her about the date she'd go nuts."

"She's a sweetheart."

"She's crazy, that's what."

He turned onto his back and tucked both hands beneath his head. Amelia got a full view of his perfect profile, the small and adorable bump at the bridge of his nose, the prominent chin that was the anchor of all his features.

"You're pretty, Jonny," Amelia murmured happily. Her sweet-natured compliment was met with a horror-filled scoff. "What?" She frowned.

"Pretty," he spoke the word like it were blasphemy. "Stop playin' around."

"Oh but you are," Amelia said seriously. "What's wrong with being pretty?"

"Women are pretty," he stated matter-of-factly, "I'm a man for God's sake."

"Anything can be pretty, especially men. You're beautiful, I wanted to tell you yesterday but I was too shy."

"You wanted to tell me I was beautiful?" He scoffed. "What am I, a little girl?"

"No," she said, getting a little confrontational. "You're a beautiful man."

He harrumphed. "You sound like the press. They're always callin' me a pretty boy, it's degrading."

"Degrading?" Amelia couldn't help her giggle. "Oh, Jonny, if only you knew what was truly degrading."

"I'm not pretty, I'm not beautiful, I'm just a guy."

He turned over in bed. Amelia had officially become acquainted with the cold shoulder, all for calling him pretty! She couldn't help her laughter.

"Oh, come now," she chided. "Beauty isn't gendered, do you truly think men have an inability to be beautiful?"

"You didn't call me beautiful, you called me fuckin' pretty."

Amelia traced circles on his bicep with her fingernail. "Well, I certainly meant no offense. What would you rather I call you, hm?"

She dropped a kiss to his cheekbone. "Handsome, perhaps?" Another kiss to his temple. "Is gorgeous too feminine for your taste? How about sexy? It doesn't quite have the same connotation."

Reluctantly, he turned onto his back and accepted her affections. "You can call me whatever you like," he sighed. "Just not pretty, alright? I get enough teasin' about that from bands like Crüe."

"Alright, beautiful. I won't call you pretty."

That earned her a small smack on the butt. "A'right, a'right."

Jon stood and stretched, no care in the world for his naked body. He threw the curtains open and flinched at the bright light. "Anywho I'm goin' for a shower," he announced. "You comin'?"

"Yes, I think I'd better."

Amelia followed him into the ensuite with the blanket lazily clinging to her body. The pair couldn't keep their hands off each other in the shower, Amelia's legs had well and truly given up on her by the time they'd finished.

It was a chirpy morning, Jon whistled and sang as he wrapped a towel round his waist and started to dry his hair. Amelia toweled herself off in the front mirror, smiling at the barrage of hickeys blooming on her chest. There was something endearing about the small patch of bruised flesh. It was ugly no doubt, but it was a mark of Jon's love and the pleasure he'd inflicted upon her the night before; a temporary scar of affection. Jon had plenty of his own to match, Amelia had rather enjoyed ravaging his neck and collar bone, the only areas she could really deposit some marks to considering how hairy he'd become.

Strong arms snaked around her waist, a pair of lips nipped at her neck and shoulder.

"Look at us," he murmured. His towel had disappeared again, both bodies naked as they stood together in the mirror. "We're a good lookin' couple, aren't we darlin'?"

"We always did look good together," Amelia swivelled in his arms. He was the blue eyes to her brown, the golden brunet to her chestnut brunette, the muscles to her curve; they fit like a puzzle.

Amelia's stomach rumbled beneath Jon's palm. "Why don't you get all cosy downstairs while I make you some breakfast?"

"Oh, no chance!" She said heartily. She pulled one of Jon's sweaters over her head with some boxer shorts to match. "I'm hungry! I'm not letting you make my breakfast."

Jon's head cocked to the side. "What? Why?" He seemed to take her words to heart.

"Darling," she patted his cheek. "You are a great talent at many things. Cooking is not one of them."

"Hey, you don't know that. I might'a gotten better these past few years. My mama always says that cookin' a meal is the most romantic thing you can do for a woman."

"Indeed, provided that they can cook. Any you, my sweet, cannot."

The corners of Jon's mouth drooped even further.

"We'll make food together," she smiled with a peck to his chin. "It'll be fun."

"Well, what if you make mine and I make yours? You can oversee everythin' I do, make sure I do it all right. I really wanna cook for you, darlin."

"Alright then," she agreed.

The preparation of breakfast was chaotic. Jon, being the tactile man that he was, could hardly keep his hands off her. Each time she attempted to crack an egg or butter some toast, his hands whisked her away into a hug or dance.

"Look at me, darlin'," he exclaimed, cracking an egg in the frying pan, "I'm a real chef."

She smirked at him, standing there in nothing but some sweatpants, his thumbs covered in egg white.

"I can see that."

"Just you wait, this egg is gonna be the best egg you've ever tasted, mark my words." His left hand pulled her into his side by the waist while his right was occupied with the spatula. His hips started to swing, unintelligible words starting to spill from his lips as he sang.

Can't start a fire
Can't start a fire without a spark
This gun's for hire
Even if we're just dancin' in the dark

He spun her around in his arms, abandoning his half cooked egg. "Oh, I'm a man in love, baby!" He whistled aloud. "Love can do incredible things."

He was akin to a drugged jockey, fumbling around the place and pulling Amelia with him. It didn't take long for him to have her sitting on the countertop, legs wrapped around his hips as he ravaged her neck.

"Jon... You know, you're marvelous at the whole sex ordeal, truly, but I don't think I can have sex with you again for at least a couple of hours."

Jon's head whipped up. "Is that a challenge?" He started to kiss her again.

"Jon... the eggs.."

He turned around like a maniac, rushing over in an attempt to save his creation.

"Perfectly crispy," he announced upon plating the entirely brown egg. Amelia peered over his shoulder skeptically.

"The perfect egg, huh?"

He swallowed. Using the spatula, he tossed the burnt egg in the trash. "Another perfect egg, comin' right up."

Amelia took a step aside this time, choosing to seat herself at one of the bar stools. She had a perfect view of Jon in all his glory, singing and dancing while maneuvering the egg in the frying pan. To his dismay, she was out of his reach this time.

Cheri Cheri lady had been stubbornly stuck in her head all morning. She kept replaying the moment where he danced with her without a single expected complaint. He danced like a real man, carried her weight and lead her around like a 'professional' with a novice.

Amelia had to face it. She had a crush. A major crush, on the man she was both dating and in love with.

"An egg, my dear!" Jon placed a plate of with admittedly enticing egg in front of her, accompanied by some bacon and toast. "You should be grateful," he added playfully, "Ran outta eggs, I'm havin' to eat avocado on toast."

"Well, if you hadn't burned the first one," she pointed out.

"If you hadn't distracted me."

"If you had just let me do it in the first place."

"Touché," he sneered, reluctantly spreading some avocado onto his toast.

As Amelia took her first bites of the breakfast Jon had prepared for her, he rooted around in the cupboards and began boiling something on the stove. After their multiple sexcapades that morning and the previous evening, Amelia was far too hungry to really take notice of his actions. That was, until she'd almost finished her second piece of toast and she looked up to find Jon with a chocolate moustache.

"Is that hot chocolate?" She exclaimed.

"Yeah. Want some?" He replied nonchalantly, taking a seat back at the counter.

"You're drinking hot chocolate with avocado?"

He looked at her indifferently. "What's wrong with that?"

"It's sacrelige! Jon. It's entirely indecent."

"What, you're a food snob now?" He laughed. "A food prude? What's wrong with a little hot chocolate?"

"You don't eat hot chocolate with avocado."

"Drink," Jon corrected, a smirk of amusement present on his chocolate coated lip.

The nerve of him to correct her words when he was drinking hot chocolate with avocado! He laughed at her astonishment.

"Take it you don't want any then?" He took another mouthful of the chocolately liquid.

"Give me that," she snatched the mug from his grasp, downing the remainder if not only to stop his odd practice. Then, realizing how silly the situation was she leaned over and stole a quick and forceful kiss, licking the residue off his lips. "You're a strange man, Jon Francis."

"I still don't get what's wrong with it," he laughed innocently. "It's chocolate, goes with everythin'."

Amelia shook her head and finished her last piece of toast. "Just wait until I tell your mother."

"My mother is gonna bombard the hell out of you tonight, you have no idea what you sighed up for earlier," he warned humourously. "Mom never stopped seein' you as her daughter, I'll be surprised if I don't have to physically pull her off of you tonight. You have no clue how much she's missed you."

"Not as much as I've missed her," Amelia murmured. "She was like a mother to me, I told her about all the things I couldn't speak to my own mother about."

Jon reached for her hand across the table. Each time he looked at her- there was such adoration in his eyes. She wished there could always be such kindness in every man's eyes. He was annoyingly kind, loyal to a fault, absurdly generous. Amelia considered herself lucky to count him as a friend, nevermind her boyfriend.

"I remember sometimes when you were at work, I'd get to your house and just cry. I was so drained with my family, your Mom was always there to calm me down, usually we played trivial pursuit or something afterward."

Jon turned serious. "You never told me you used to cry. I could've helped."

"Yes, well. Nineteen year old me found the prospect far too embarrassing."

Jon caressed her knuckles with his thumb. He wished the stupid counter weren't in the way, that way he could brush his foot against her leg.

"I loved your father, too," Amelia continued. "As a child I wanted nothing more than for my father to participate in family games or even just show a slip of emotion. I never got it out of him, but your dad was all too happy to substitute."

"I'm sure they've got the board games out already," Jon chuckled. "Anyhow, you still hungry?"

"Only a little." Jon stood up and started waltzing around the kitchen, peering inside each cupboard. "Haven't had a chance to go shopping," he told her, "Sorry darlin'. I could take you out for coffee?"

"Won't people see us?"

"Maybe," he shrugged. "So?"

"Jon, this isn't a topic to be nonchalant about."

"What are you talkin' about?" He frowned.

"Well, we should probably talk about the logistics in this relationship."

He rolled his eyes with an exaggerated groan. "Logistics, there are no logistics to a relationship." He turned toward her, making a beeline for her and lifting her from her chair into a small twirl. "You're so uptight. We've just got each other back, who wants to be talkin' about math n' shit?"

"Nobody mentioned math," she coughed, separating herself from his grasp. "I mentioned logistics. It's important, Jon."

He groaned again and planted himself in the barstool. "Fine. What's the matter?"

"Isn't it obvious? You're a world famous rockstar and I'm the daughter of two conservative Catholics. Your fans are going to want to kill me and my parents are going to want to kill you."

"So? Let them be angry, who cares?"

"I care," her nostrils flared, "We can't be seen together, not yet. I have to be home in a few days before Richie suspects."

"Richie? Who cares?" Jon stressed. "Amelia, you're twenty-five, what the hell can they do?"

"I'm just not ready," she wrapped her arms around herself. "You promised me last night, the condition was that we wouldn't tell anyone yet and you promised."

"That's not what you said last night," he argued, "You said fuck Richie, fuck everyone! This is you and me."

"Not yet, Jon, please." He saw the desperation in her eyes. Another display of Amelia's sweet and rare vulnerability.

"Fine," he sighed, pulling her into his lap. "Whatever you want."

"I need to go home in a few days anyway," she continued. Jon peppered kisses along the shell of her ear. "My parents will be missing me, they seemed sad to see me go so soon."

His hand rested on her lower stomach.

"Can you at least give me a date?" Jon asked. "When we can stop this nonsense and be together properly?"

"A few months," she answered. "Just give me time, so much has happened so quickly."

He nodded, lifting her off his lap. "I take it you'll come see me as often as you get chance?"

"Of course," she promised, leaning across the counter. "I'd live here if I could, I'm just not ready to tell them yet."

Jon couldn't understand it. He wanted to for her sake, but Amelia was so forward and demanding in every other part of life, why she was so different in this case was beyond him. What was she so afraid of?

"A few months you say? Before you move in?"

Her head gave a small, tentative nod.

"Okay." He started to rinse off both plates in the sink. "Well, as long as you're stayin' here I've got a few rules for this house."

"Rules?" Amelia sat up pert.

"Well, one rule," he corrected. "That unless you're expectin' someone at an exact time, you don't unlock the front door."

"What? Why?"

"You said yourself my fans are gonna wanna kill you. You never know what kinda loons you'll get round here. My security's pretty damn good around here but if someone wants to hurt me bad enough then they'll find a way. Any smart man would realize that the best way to hurt me would be through the beautiful girl that lives at my residence."

"But you have a fortress here, it seems entirely safe."

"It is, and it should be. But I don't want you opening it."

"Jon-"

"No, Amelia. It isn't negotiable. You've got no idea the types of people I've met on tour, they're crazy! Even the most well-meaning fans are crazy, I'm just a normal guy n' they bow down to me, they cry if I even look at them, faint if I touch 'em. Showbusiness is no joke, it's dangerous. If I've got that many people that love me, then there'll be an equal amount that hate me."

"Maybe the boyfriends of the thousands of women you've seduced through magazines and television screens," she giggled.

"It's not a joke," he said, which startled Amelia. Usually Jon was the un-serious one. "Promise me or I can't give you a key. And I really rather would give you a key because I don't want to hold you hostage and it's a health and safety hazard."

Amelia looked at him skeptically. It seemed a little overkill for her taste.

"And, I want it to feel like your home," he added softly. "So just promise me."

"Fine," she said. "But what about you? If somebody turns up with an assault weapon, how are you going to defend yourself?"

"I can manage myself sweetheart, don't worry about me."

Amelia frowned at him. "Against an assault weapon?"

"I always look through the peephole."

"Well, why can't I do that?"

"Stop arguing!" He laughed, picking her up like a bride. "I'm protecting you, alright? That's what us men do."

"Sure, Hun. Now let me down, I need to get dressed."

†††

Jon rang the doorbell of his parent's home. Amelia stood beside him nervously, it'd been a long time since she'd seen the house she once referred to as her second home.

Carol and John had harboured Amelia for many a year. It was a safe place for the couple to retreat and know they were safe and alone.

For the latter years of her visits to the Bongiovi home, Amelia had become a beloved daughter to John and Carol. Each were equally dismayed when Jon announced he'd broken off with her, and Carol had even given him a harsh tongue-lashing which she later apologized for.

Carol, John, Anthony, even young Matthew, all of them missed their games of Scrabble around the backyard table at nights with Amelia.

It took Carol hardly a moment to open the door. Amelia was whisked into the shorter woman's arms, happy cries and ecstatic greetings could be heard from many doors down.

"Welcome home!" She shouted, crushing her in a motherly grip. "Goodness, welcome home! Look at you, you're beautiful! Isn't she beautiful, Jonny?"

Jon wasn't sure whether she was referring to him or his father who'd just appeared behind her. Both men agreed upon instant.

"And so are you," was Amelia's reply. "You look so well."

"Yes, well. Jonny's been taking care of us now. Gosh, come on in, come on in. We've been waiting all day for you to arrive, I haven't been able to think of anything else."

"She hasn't sat down once," John Sr laughed. "I don't think I've seen her more excited since, well, since we found out she was pregnant with Matthew."

"Never!" Carol laughed with delight. "Amelia's family, she's been gone for far too long." The blonde woman encompassed Amelia tightly again, her mega-watt smile reminiscent of her son's. "I should've given my son a beating for the stunt he pulled," she gasped, slapping playfully at Jon's arm. "Breaking up with you, I thought he had sense! I gave him a tongue-lashing like no other- and I never even had a chance to say goodbye to you."

"No," Amelia chuckled. "It certainly was abrupt, although I think I've punished him for long enough, wouldn't you say so darling?"

She peered back at Jon. He stood with his hands behind his back, a twinkling smile as he watched his mother and girlfriend embrace. "I've done my time."

"It's good to see you," Amelia continued, squeezing Carol tightly again and dropping a kiss to her cheek. Her gaze moved to John behind her, she moved toward him and rushed into his embrace.

"I've missed you both so much," she professed. "You were my family."

"You still are." John's large palm landed on the back of her head. "Welcome home, kiddo."

John Senior was a rather short man with graying hair and a kind smile. His blue eyes held the same sparkle as that of his son's, and his arms sported a similar strength and cosiness. "You've certainly changed," he noted of the younger girl, "Whatever happened to your fishnets? You could never be seen without them when you were younger. And what of your hair? It's grown so much."

"Yes, I've more than a few split ends," Amelia joked, holding up a lock of hair for John to examine.

"Well, I can sort that no issue."

"Later, later," Carol swatted John's hands away. "Let the girl settle. Come on through Amelia, Anthony and Matthew are waiting to see you."

Amelia sent an excited look at Jon, her teeth clamped together in a nervous smile. The Bongiovi living room hadn't changed one bit, only now there was an entire wall dedicated to Jon's accolades. There wasn't a spot of blank wall with all the gold and platinum albums.

Anthony was reclined on the sofa. Strangely, of the three Bongiovi children it really seemed that Tony was the 'rockstar'. His hair was almost wilder than his eldest brother's, even at home Tony dressed himself in leather and spandex. Amelia was almost surprised by the absence of a cigarette between his lips; Tony had quite the problem with smoking.

And behind the sofa, almost afraid of Amelia's gaze, was young Matthew.

"Oh, hey Lia," Tony said, an effortless grin plastered on his face. "Where you been these past few years?"

He stood and advanced toward her, his gait oozing with confidence. A rockstar.

"Evening, Tony," she greeted happily. Rather than replying to his handshake, she wrapped him up in a hug. "How've you been? I take it you finished school?"

"Oh yeah," he snickered. "Ma wasn't too pleased with my results."

Amelia tutted at him. "Oh Tony, you were a clever boy! You should have applied yourself."

"What does it matter? Big bro's a millionaire."

Amelia wasn't in the mood to chide him, though the idea that her boyfriend was a millionaire was disconcerting to say the least.

"Well, so long as you've been staying out of trouble," she hugged him again.

"Tony's the worst for it," Jon chimed in. "Gets beat up every other week."

Amelia slapped Tony's studden leather jacket. "Tony!" Now that he mentioned it, his eyes did look a little bruised.

"Don't worry about me, baby," he flashed his gleaming teeth. "I can take care of myself around these parts."

"Oh, Anthony," Amelia shook her head. "Take if from your brother, the rockstar attitude doesn't do anybody any good."

"She's right," Jon snatched Amelia by her waist. "N' stop flirtin' with my girlfriend. Her names Amelia, not 'baby'."

"You'll scare your parents half to death if you continue fighting," Amelia added, trying not to giggle as Jon peppered numerous kisses by her cheek. She swatted his arms away playfully.

"Listen to the girl!" Carol interjected. "She's got more sense than you three boys combined."

"Yeah, yeah. Jon, get a room, will ya?" Anthony ruffled Amelia's hair as he walked past her. "Good to see ya again, Princess."

Jon gave his brother a smack across he head as he passed. "Dickhead."

Amelia turned her attention to Matthew. He was standing like a scarecrow, gormless and fixed in position. "Hello Matthew," she beamed. "Gosh, when did you get so tall?"

Matthew, at the age of twelve, was already the same height as Amelia.

"Come on Matthew," his mother chided. "Come greet the girl, you haven't stopped talking about her all day."

"Mom!" The boys face burned red as he shuffled over. "Hello Amelia," he mumbled quietly. Amelia wrapped her arms tightly around the young boy.

"I've missed you buddy," she squeezed him tightly, "I wasn't sure you'd remember me too well, you were practically a baby when I knew you."

"Of course I remember you," he argued strongly, then trailed off into a murmur again. "You used to stop Tony from bullying me."

She chuckled. "Well, Tony was in his awkward teenage phase, he was nasty to everyone."

"He hasn't changed," Matthew scoffed. "I still have all the trading cards you used to bring me, you know? I can show you them if you like."

"Of course!" Amelia exclaimed, not relenting her embrace. She used to bring him stacks of sports trading cards; Richie had endless swaps and dupes. "I'd love to see them."

"I set up a couple games... if you wanna play them. I have the new mario game."

"Of course I want to play," she smiled. "We'll play after dinner, though I'm ashamed to admit I'm out of practice."

Matthew gave a big, toothy smile showcasing his new braces. "That's okay. I can teach you."

He broke away from her embrace, seemingly satisfied. Jon wrapped his arms around her from behind, "He loves you, y'know?" He whispered in her ear. Amelia watched him resume his video game. "He's a little shy."

"He's a real sweetheart, though I'm afraid he's going to thrash me at all these video games."

"He beats me every time. Mom n' Dad never have a chance. Tony's the only one that can beat him, but it's rare."

He spun her around and kissed her. Amelia tried to escape, embarrassed of the display he was putting on with his parents so close by but he held her head in place. She accepted it reluctantly, falling limp in his manly hold.

"That date must have gone very well, I take it," John Sr teased. He had the same knowing gaze as his son.

Jon gave a dazzling smirk and pulled Amelia even closer by the jean-clad hips. "Yes Dad, it went very well." He pulled Amelia's hair into a pony tail just so he could see more of her beautiful face. Then, with a somewhat winsome expression he uttered the words, "She loves me."

Carol just about jumped for joy.

"Yes," Amelia admitted fondly. "I do. I couldn't help myself, though my stubborn heart tried its hardest not to. You have a very charming son."

"Takes after his mother," John smiled. "I must admit that the house hasn't been the same since you've been gone. Nor has Jon."

Jon rolled his eyes. "Dad."

"The absence of a woman around the place has certainly been noticeable," Carol added. "It's been dreadful, stuck with the company of three young men and my husband!"

"Oh, shush dear," John tsked. "We've raised three fine boys, even Tony."

"Goodness. Tony keeps me awake at night, I worry that he's out fighting all the time."

Amelia started to follow Carol through to the kitchen. "Is it really that bad?"

"Tony? Oh, yes. He's uncontrollable, he walks around with a permanent black eye, bruised lip and a cigarette perched between his damn lips. He isn't ever home! I thought that Jon was a difficult case, nothing could've prepared me for Anthony."

The lady busied herself at the stove. "But enough about Tony, we should be talking about you my dear!" She displayed the most brightest smile. "Where on earth have you been all this time? And what took you so long to come back home to us?"

Amelia dipped her chin shamefully. "Well, I'm sure you know by now that I relocated to England. After my return I've been mostly touring, Jon has me working as an assistant."

"Yes, I heard something of it. But that's not my question, my dear, I want to know how you've been. What else has happened in your life? Not your occupation or your location, how are you?"

"Well," she replied happily. "I supposed I've been in a strange spot mentally. I was consumed by bitterness for the longest time; my father always says that my greatest oversight is my obstinance. He was right, Jon's done nothing but good for me, he made mistakes but so have I, the fact that it took me so long to return to him has me ridden with guilt."

"Guilt? What is guilt? Guilt is a consequence that we feel after some moral wrongdoing, certainly not to be refused with regret."

"You think too highly of me," Amelia took a seat in one of the kitchen chairs. "I was a conceited asshole."

"Well, aren't we all on occasion? I can't tell you how often I scolded my son for not making more of an effort with you while he toured. But what's done is done, I can't tell you how excited he was to take you on that date last night, nor how much his mood has improved now that you're back."

"Really?"

Carol spun around. "Yes!" She beamed delightedly. "My son has been nothing but a grumpy workaholic ever since that first tour started- you could hardly get a word out of him! Today I saw a light long absent return to his eyes, I'd almost forgotten how lovely his smile was."

"Yes, you and me both." That smile had the power to do inexplicable things.

"Oh it's so good to have you back, dear," Carol was hugging Amelia before she could even process the deed. Oh, she'd missed that warm and motherly embrace, Carol always smelled like flowers and daisies. "You've no idea how much I've missed you, I didn't expect the house to be quite so dull upon your departure."

Amelia held Carol tightly. Guilt roiled in her stomach; Amelia hadn't held her own mother so strongly even after returning from England. After two years. And here she was holding Carol like her life depended on it.

"I've missed you too," was all that Amelia could say. "All of you."

Amelia heard footsteps transfer to the wooden floor of the kitchen. "Smells good in here, dear," said John Sr.

"Mm. Always miss Momma's cookin' on tour!"

Amelia turned to Jon with a smile. He seemed so... bright, like a lone star in a dark night. His aura was that of a puppy, basking in the attention and affection of others while simultaneously bringing people nothing but joy.

"Well, it should be ready shortly."

John rested his large palms on the backs of Amelia's shoulders. "How about I sort those split ends for you while we wait?"

"Oh, really John?" Carol gasped. "Must you do it now?"

"Sure, why not?" He laughed, slipping his wife a small kiss as he passed her. "Trust me Amelia, you've no idea how excited I get to cut ladies' hair these days. All I've done for the past six months is replicate my own son's hairstyle on hundreds of young men."

He wrapped a cover around Amelia's shoulders. "You don't mind, do you?" He confirmed. "It'll only be a quick trim."

"Sure! What lady would deny a haircut?"

As John Sr combed through and began snipping at her hair, Jon Jr began helping his mother prepare the plates and cutlery.

"You two seemed to have a good night," John noted, a little humour embedded in his tone. Amelia didn't grasp his meaning; hadn't she already told him they had a good night?

Jon started to laugh. Was she missing something?

"Sure did, Dad."

"What are you both talking about?"

"Nothing, dear," John soothed, placing a hand on her shoulder as she tried to look up at him.

And then, far too belatedly, it hit her. She released a ceremonious whine and buried her face into her hands. Both men started to laugh again.

"Goodness, I'm sorry," Amelia said bashfully. "I hadn't expected a haircut."

And nor had she anticipated anyone spotting the numerous dark and violent-looking hickeys scattered across the back of her neck. John must've been peering down at quite the spectacle, she could almost die of embarrassment.

"No need to apologize my dear," the man chuckled. His voice was a deep tenor; when he spoke she felt the words smother her like a warm blanket. "It's a mark of young love."

Jon shot her one of his annoying winks.

"Still, it's not very proper of me." Upon their first reunion? Really? He'd had the misfortune of gazing upon her bruised neck? Jon could've at least reminded her they were there before they left.

"I think they're beautiful," Jon butted from the other side of the room.

"You keep your mouth closed."

"Yes," Carol agreed with an absentminded slap to her son's arm. "Stop teasing the poor girl. That goes for you too, John."

Jon and his father shared a chastised look. It was always the way of the Bongiovi household. Mother says stop? You best listen or the spatula will come out. Carol had chased both men around the house with a wooden spoon too many times to count.

"Now then," John announced, "What do you think, dear?"

He held a mirror to her face. She looked mostly the same, only neater.

"It's lovely, John. Thank you, you saved me fifteen bucks and gave me a nicer trim."

"It's your induction back into the Bongiovi household," he chuckled. "Now let me vacuum all these ends up."

Dinner was served perhaps twenty minutes later. Amelia felt like her teenage self again, sitting in her old spot next to Jon, Anthony across from her, Carol and John at either end of the table.

"You know dear, nobody's sat in that seat since you."

"Yeah," Jon corroborated with an affectionate elbow to her side. "I've been lonely over here."

"And didn't we know about it," Anthony grunted. "Didn't say a word after he left you. At dinner he sat in silence and pushed food around on his plate like a toddler."

"Anthony," Carol whacked his arm. "Not now."

Amelia placed a hand over Jon's; he was blushing.

"What? Just sayin'," Tony shrugged.

Jon shot his brother a rather placid look, then turned to Carol. "This looks delicious, Ma."

"Yes!" Amelia agreed, all too eager to leave the previous conversation behind. "The good Lord knows how much I've missed your cooking."

"Oh, dear," Carol chuckled, a faint blush rising to her cheeks. "Well, I've certainly missed cooking for you. Bon appetit."

Amelia took a bite of the risotto; her favorite. Why couldn't she have been blessed with an Italian family? Her mother was no bad cook but Carol and John could make even the most esteemed of chef look like amateurs.

"So!" The matriarch exclaimed. "Why don't you two tell us about your date? By the looks of it, it was a success."

"I'd say so," Jon smirked, his hand coming up just beneath Amelia's bra strap.

"He took me to dinner," she explained. "Italian, of course. Though we didn't get to eat very much, things got a little emotional so we left early."

A smirk tinged Jon's lips. "By emotional she means she was crying on the restroom floor."

Each Carol and Amelia gasped. Amelia went to smack Jon's arm whereas Carol moved to secure Amelia's hand in a comforting embrace.

"What? It's true," he argued with a mouthful.

Everyone looked to her for confirmation. "Indeed, it's true," she sighed, "I was rather a mess."

"Why's that, dear?"

"I don't know. I suppose a lot of things came out all at once. It was sort of like whiplash, it all happened so fast."

"But after the crying, was it all alright?" John asked mid-chew, a hand over his mouth.

"Well, she cried a lot through the night -"

This time, Amelia really did smack him. Relatively hard on the thigh. All she got in return was a bellowing laugh.

"You're not supposed to make your date cry, man," Tony butted.

"Oh, it wasn't his fault." Amelia looked down at the large hand covering her jean-clad thigh. "It was complicated. He was wonderful, really."

Carol looked proudly at her eldest son.

"So after the crying," she said, "Did you manage to have a good night? What did you do after you left the restaurant."

"You sure you wanna ask that, Mom?" Tony raised a brow. "You musta seen the marks on her neck."

Jon burst into laughter, even Matthew and his father had to conceal little smirks of amusement. It seemed only Carol and Amelia in dismay.

"Tony!" Carol scolded. "You aren't too old to take a trip over my knee, young man."

"Not at all," John snickered. "Can't you see you're embarrassing the poor girl?"

Amelia was indeed rotting in her own circle of despair.

"Nothin' to be ashamed of," Tony shrugged.

"We danced, anyhow," Jon chucked, tucking a hair behind Amelia's ear. There was no use in hiding the numerous love bites, they were clear as day. "N' got pizza, since we didn't finish the restaurant food."

"Yes. His dancing has improved, or at least his enthusiasm."

"Improved? Dancing? My son?" John paused in his tracks. "You mean to tell me he's traded one of his two left feet for a correctly coordinated one?"

"I perhaps shouldn't go that far," Amelia teased. "But I didn't have to fight him in order to get him to dance."

"How wonderful," Carol smiled. "Dancing is fantastic for the soul."

"Eh, I sing for my soul," Jon reasoned. "I'll leave the dancing to you professionals."

"So what happened after all that sloppy romantic shit?" Tony asked, pinning Amelia with a smirk. "I mean God- that neck is real bruised-"

Both John and Carol scolded him at once. It seemed he really were an unruly son, he only laughed aloud.

"Tony!" Amelia exclaimed herself. "You really have become a very forward young man. What happened to the gentleman, albeit slightly perverted gentleman I used to know? You should take notes from your brother."

"My brother? Gentleman? Haven't you read the things he says in the papers?"

Jon sent his brother a sharp look over his drink.

"I have seen excerpts, yes," she admitted slowly. "What Jon says for shock value is irrelevant to me, he has as gentlemanly demeanor as any."

"You know he once said he'd kill our mother for rock n' roll?"

Carol remained notably silent.

"Yes, I heard something of it," Amelia gave her boyfriend a piercing look. A small part of him shivered, nobody liked to be on the recieving end of one of Amelia's looks. "As I say, whatever front Jon puts up to conceal his tender disposition is of no concern to me. However, that being said, really Jon? You brought your poor mother into this?"

"That was a long time ago," he argued. "I was tryna make a point about the music."

Amelia rolled her eyes. "Regardless," she directed her gaze back to Tony. "You're hardly the sweet boy I remember."

"Tell me about it," Carol joined. "John and I have had discussions about putting him on a leash. Little Matthew is more mature!"

Upon his name being mentioned, Amelia realized how quietly and politely Matthew had been sitting throughout the dinner. Matthew she was sure would grow up to be a gentleman. Not only was he a sweet and polite boy but he idolised his eldest brother like no other.

Tony seemed to be under the impression that he was the real rockstar of the family.

"Don't worry, I'll corrupt him," Tony grinned, wrapping his younger brother up in a headlock. "Right little bro?" He started to knuckle his head.

"Tony stop," Jon said. "Leave the kid alone."

Matthew seemed utterly elated by the defense of his older brother, he beamed an all-too-familiar toothy grin.

"What? He likes it, don't you buddy?" Tony laughed, giving the boy one final squeeze.

"Get off me, Tone," a little voice squeaked.

"See? He prefers me," Jon grinned, winking at the boy. It only caused another mega-watt smile.

"Pfft, how could he prefer you? You're never here!"

"'Cause I'm the coolest big brother, right Matty?"

He nodded repeatedly like a cartoon character. Tony seemed to take it to heart.

Amelia couldn't help but chuckle at the spectacle; two twenty six and twenty three year old men arguing over their youngest brother. Men never did grow up.

Jon gave Tony a taunting laugh as he high-fived Matthew. It was the equivalent of sticking your tongue out at a loser, entirely immature.

"Anywho," Carol announced, clasping her hands together. "Amelia, it must be your birthday soon! Jonny, what have you got planned?"

"Nothing yet, Ma," he said. "She might wanna spend it with her family."

"Oh, goodness no," Amelia objected. "Please don't subject me to another year of formalities and Christian birthday blessings. I want to spend it with you, no matter what we end up doing."

Jon peered down at the hand that'd landed on his forearm. He smiled wildly; everyone on the table, even Anthony, seemed to find that profession adorable.

"I'll start planning, then."

Anthony and Jon seemed to be in competition with each other for the entire evening. Amelia had never seen such a concentrated look on Jon's face as he tried to best his brother in Donkey Kong; she was sure she spotted sweat culminating at his temples. He also seemed to keep a close eye on his brother whenever he came anywhere near Amelia. He watched like a hawk to make sure his hands remained to himself and that no flirtatious remarks fell from his lips. Alas, it was difficult to curb Tony's so-called charm.

For the most part, while Jon and Tony fought it out like primative neanderthals, Amelia stayed in the company of Matthew. She let him show her all his new games, teach her how to play them and ultimately beat her. She couldn't even win a game of pacman against him, Matthew was just too good.

It was Carol that decided to suggest an end to the extremely competitive video-gaming. "What if we played a board game? Amelia dear, we haven't played a single game of Scrabble since you left."

"You haven't?" She gasped. Well, that simply wouldn't do. "In that case, perhaps we should set the board up."

"Outside?" Matthew suggested. "Like we used to?"

It was indeed a beautiful spring evening.

"I don't see why not," John said.

Jon slung an arm around Amelia's waist and steered her toward the backdoor.

"You're terrible, you know?" She teased softly. "Competing with your brother like that at the age of twenty six?"

"Sibling rivalry never dies, my dear," he chuckled. "Just think of Richie."

"The last person I want to think about right now is Richie," she said, taking a seat at the small round table outside. Jon draped a woolly blanket over her shoulders and took a seat beside her.

With the six of them around the table beneath the setting sun, Amelia felt right at home again. She hadn't played Scrabble once since her departure either, she'd missed playing board games with them all.

Throughout the game she found herself inching closer to Carol, until eventually her head landed on her shoulder and they were effectively cuddling. She needn't have spoke a word, Carol understood all of Amelia's needs through the single gesture.

Unsurprisingly to the four men, Carol and Amelia took the lead in Scrabble with Amelia eventually coming out on top. Tony claimed that she had an unfair advantage after taking her degree.

"Look at the sun," Carol gushed. An amalgamation of red and orange hues filled the sky. "It'd be a shame to go in so early. How about we dance?"

"Dance?" Jon snirtled. "Absolutely not, I've done enough dancin' for the week."

Amelia jammed an elbow into his side. "Don't be so miserable."

"I'd like to dance!" Matthew announced.

"Hey, if you aren't gonna dance with her then I sure will," Tony declared, almost waltzing Amelia off on the patio.

"Hey, hey!" Jon snatched her back, shoving his younger brother to the side. "On second thoughts sure, I'll dance."

Amelia suppressed a smirk. Jon placed one hand on her hip and held her hand with the other, the pair swayed around on the grass.

"I'll get the music!" Carol clapped excitedly. She returned with an old boombox.

"No classical, a'right Mom?" Jon ordered.

"Oh, no Viennese waltz?" Amelia pouted, batting her long lashes.

"No chance. Put Springsteen on! He's been stuck in my head all day."

"I was really hoping for some Strauss," John Jr joked in his low voice. "Oh well. I can dance to anything."

"You certainly can, dear," was Carol's response. Like a gentleman with effortless grace, John swept his wife into a small dance, stealing a kiss in the process.

"This ain't fair," Tony whined, taking his sunglasses off only to showcase his glare. "Why don't I get a pretty girl to dance with?"

"Maybe because you're such an asshole no girl would go near you," Jon retorted.

"Don't be mean," Carol chided. "We'll swap. I'll come and dance with you, sweetheart."

Carol made her way over to Anthony, bringing him over to the grass as though it were a dancefloor.

"Great. Just what I wanted."

Amelia took to the floor with John while Jon and Matthew engaged in a small jig.

"Now that's better," Amelia smiled. "Finally, a competent dance partner."

"My son is such a poor dancer that I'm often left to wonder if he's really my son," John chuckled, spinning Amelia around effortlessly.

"He may have uncoordinated feet but he has your eyes," Amelia noted. "And your smile."

"And his mother's ears," he grinned, "But I believe the rest belongs to you, my dear."

Amelia blushed again. Blush blush blush, always blushing!

"I've promised you before and I'll reiterate it. Before I die I'll have that man a world class dancer, you can guarantee."

"You'd certainly have a job, dear. He's totally unwilling and totally daft."

Amelia suppressed a giggle. "But he's handsome. And there's nothing like a handsome man that can dance."

John gave her a narrow smirk. "Handsome is one attribute I'm forced to hand to him. The rest? I like to keep him humble."

Before Amelia could respond, Tony inserted himself between his father and Amelia, a lopsided smirk on his face. "May I have this dance?"

Amelia had no choice, he'd already dragged her by the hips. She was forced to meet his gaze; he'd removed his sunglasses just for her. His expression was the epitome of gloat and arrogance, though in an endearing and amusing sense. It appeared that Anthony Bongiovi hadn't yet progressed from teengagedom.

"Hey doll, missed havin' you around."

His tone was always so slick, so confident. Amelia could almost gag. Thankfully, she could consider herself a confident woman when it came to anybody but Jon.

"Goodness Tony, just because you're of age now doesn't mean you drooling over me is any less weird."

"Droolin'? I ain't droolin'."

Tony's hand slipped dangerously below her waist.

"Hands above the hip, Tony," she warned at a reasonable audio level. "What happened to you? Your mother raised you better than this."

"Hey Tony? Quit hittin' on my girlfriend," Jon shouted, busy dancing with his mother.

Tony muttered a string of petulant curses.

The group mostly dispersed afterward. John and Tony returned to the living room, Matthew reluctantly trudged up to bed, and Amelia and Carol remained at the kitchen table chatting with each other.

"You know, I don't know what you've done to him, Amelia."

"What do you mean?"

"You've... Well, it's magical. You've restored him to his older self, you've no idea how utterly miserable he's been these past years. Even when his record hit number one he seemed oddly gloomy, behind all the cheering and celebrations of course."

Amelia took pity on him. All he'd ever wanted was that number one record, the idea that he hadn't enjoyed it to the fullest was upsetting.

"He's enamoured with you," Carol gushed. "Besotted! More than anything I've missed the way he used to smile with you. He isn't himself when he's without you; this is the first time I've seen my son in years."

"I don't think that my parents even know my true self," Amelia reflected. "I think they'd hardly recognize me if they saw the way I was around here. They've never seen me in love before, people are different in and out of love. I hardly speak with them anymore."

Carol's eyes betrayed her every thought; nobody could ever wonder at her opinion on a matter, she was an open book.

"You know, I met your mother and father one night," Carol spoke softly. "I remember first meeting them, there were so many things I wanted to say, so many things I wanted to berate them for. Of course, I couldn't. Before I had a chance to properly introduce myself and John, your mother was already hugging me. She seemed so excited to meet Jonny and John and I, almost immediately she began to speak so highly of Richie and yourself."

Amelia could hardly look at the woman. Her thoughts were on her mother, a woman who even now was probably worried about her whereabouts, wishing Amelia were home so they could spend time together.

"She said to me that she wished you could be there to meet us. She gushed that you were away and studying in England, how clever and polite you were. It was clear as day how much she loved you. I wanted to dislike her, not only for the way she'd sheltered you but for the way she'd judged my own son, and yet it was impossible not to fall in love with her," she finished.

"She's a lovely woman," Amelia sighed. "Just.. lived in a different time."

"Richie too," Carol continued. "I couldn't dislike that boy from the minute he stepped in my house. It was disconcerting to say the least; having Richie walk around in your stead, a boy that not only looked like you but talked like you, or at least you used to before your time in England."

Amelia smiled.

"And I was having a hard time trying to reconcile this all-round sweet boy with the person that you and Jon had told me about. It took Jonny a while to be comfortable with him; at first it was clear to me that he disliked him greatly but your brother possesses the same charm that all you Samboras seem to have. I wish more than anything that everything could be normal for once. I doubt that your family would have an objection to Jon now, Jon has certainly forgiven them for any prior judgements they held against him albeit unknowingly. Surely Richie wouldn't mind if the two of you got together.. he loves the both of you."

Oh, Carol. She, like her son, was hopelessly optimistic even in the worst of times. Amelia wished she could be that way.

"I hope so too," she sighed. "But I'm not ready yet. I only just got Jon back, I don't want to jeopardize anything."

"Of course," Carol soothed. "When you're ready. I'm sure it'll all be alright in the end. Someday the Bongiovis and Samboras will all be having big family dinners together, your parents won't be able to say very much when their grandchildren turn out to be Bongiovis."

Amelia buried her blushing face in her palms.

"Someday in the distant future, of course," Carol chuckled. "But truly, I know that it'll all work out for you in the end, darling. You and Jonny are meant to be together, nothing can come between that sort of love."

Amelia didn't believe so either.

"Are you staying the night?" Carol asked after some period of silence.

"Uhh... I'm not sure to tell you the truth. I think Jonny's pretty eager to take me back to his place. I think he wants to make the most of our time together before I inevitably have to leave again, but I'm pretty keen to stay the night, I've missed you all too much. It'll be nice to return to that old single bed one last time."

"Oh, we did up the guest room. You don't have to stay in there."

"Oh, I'm quite set on it," Amelia laughed. "For old times sake."

"Well, the room's all ready. Some of your old clothes are still in the dresser too."

After talking to Carol for perhaps an hour, Amelia decided to set about finding Jon. Through the window in the kitchen she spotted him standing at the end of the backyard.

Amelia stepped outside and breathed deeply the cool night air. At the end of the garden, she spotted smoke billowing from Jon's silhouette. The faint scent of tobacco wafted toward her and quietly she tutted. Cigarettes? For a singer?

"Jonny?" Amelia called softly. She advanced toward him, at which point he turned and greeted her with a smile. She reached up to kiss his cheek, her hand holding back the arm that had the cigarette. "What are you doing out here at this hour?" She asked him. "Why are you smoking?"

The man offered a wistful smile. She wished she had a better vantage point to view his expression, beneath the canopy of trees there was hardly a shred of light.

"You know," he brought her closer, the apple scent of his hair bringing floods of memories. "I'm even crazier about you than the night I left you. How is that possible?"

His voice was hardly a whisper, Amelia could almost suspect he was under some sort of spell, even his eyes looked glazed beneath enchantment. "I'm mad for you," he tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. "I'm half worried I'll frighten you."

"Frighten me?" A ghost of a laugh passed her lips. "What's with this talk, hm? Was that wine you had a dinner?"

"No wine," he confirmed. He took another drag of his cigarette, turned his head away from Amelia and exhaled.

"What's the matter?" She enquired. "I didn't know you still smoked."

What would Doctor Edwards say? His lungs! They were having a hard enough time as it were.

"Eh. Guess I got a little sentimental bein' back here with you."

Amelia took hold of the cigarette and put it out on the nearby table. "Sentimentality aside, it's not good for your health."

"Yeah.. I know baby. I don't smoke often."

"You worry me when you do things like this," Amelia brushed her hands down each side of his face. "When you go all broody like this. Retreat into the darkness and get all secretive. What's the matter?"

"Nothing!" He laughed. "Sentimental is all. I remember spendin' all these nights out here with you, watchin' the stars while you pointed at clouds and tried to tell me they looked like all these crazy shapes."

Amelia remembered the times well. He pushed another lock of hair behind her ear and beheld her moonlit face. "N' I remember the way you used to beg me for a puff of my cigarette - n' how pouty n' whiny you used to get when I said no."

"Yes, I remember well. I never used to think it fair."

"Well, you weren't gettin' addicted to anythin' on my watch," he smirked. "Not drugs, cigarettes, alcohol - I wasn't gonna let you throw away your health and money on silly things."

"And you?"

"I was just a boy, nobody cared if I threw all that away."

"I care," Amelia huffed mightily. "And I don't want to see you with another cigarette, your voice is struggling enough as it is."

"Sure, Mom."

"Don't Mom me, I'm only doing what you would do." She pressed a rough kiss to his tobacco-tasting lips. "I quite like you sober. You rockstars drink too much."

"I drink in moderation."

"Drinking, I can take. Smoking on the other hand-"

"It was a one time thing," he smiled, "Don't worry yourself."

With the embers fizzling out on the ashtray beside them, Amelia could relax. "Fine. Now what was that you were saying about the stars? Awfully romantic."

"Mm, in this very garden," he grinned, pulling her close by the arms. "Under this very moon, over by that very hammock. We got up to all kinds of things."

"What types of things are you referring to?"

"Oh, all sorts. Climbing trees, dancing, rolling around on the floor, tackling each other- you name it."

"I seem to have some recollection of it."

"Mm, and the pool."

Amelia turned. The pool indeed glittered in the moonlight. "Oh yes, many a night in the pool."

Jon swayed toward her effortlessly. "How 'bout another?"

"Are you crazy? It's dark! And your parents are home."

"So? A dip in the pool darlin', nothin' sinister about that."

"I'm not getting in the pool. I have no spare clothes."

"I have plenty."

"It's cold."

"We have heaters."

"Well- I don't want to disturb your family."

"They won't mind." He was gleaming now, those pearly whites even brighter than the moon that serenaded them. "C'mon, for old times sake."

He shrugged his shirt and jacket off before she could object. His pants pooled at the floor before he slipped in, dipping beneath the water and surfacing moments later.

Oh, why could he never be normal?

"C'mon darlin'," he called, flapping around like a dismembered octopus. "It's lonely in here."

"I'm quite happy dry," she mused, seating herself on the wooden swing across from him.

"Ah, playing hard to get?"

"No, merely responsible adult."

"Fun sponge you mean."

Jon jetted backward and propelled a large splash in her direction.

"Oh!" She gasped, standing up and shrugging off her wet clothes. "Oh, you just get back here."

She delved into the water dressed only in her underwear and Jon's shirt. Being the best swimmer in her grade, Amelia darted toward Jon who tried to escape. She grabbed him by the shoulders and pushed herself up, at the same time pushing him well beneath the water. Bubbles arose from where he'd scrambled for breath, his arms flailed about like two flimsy branches in the wind. Eventually, once she'd determined he'd learned his lesson, she let him up again.

"Sph- ack-" he said, spitting a mouthful of water and hacking for breath. Amelia swam away giggling and kicking her feet in the water.

"You tried to drown me!" He yelled, quietly so not to disturb his sleeping family. "You.. you-"

"You had it coming."

Jon coughed up the remaining water in his lungs, banging his fist on his chest.

"You're a real piece of work, 'Melia." He pushed himself off the poolside over to her direction. With a squeak, she immediately tried to hoist herself over the side of the pool. Jon grabbed her by the hips and pulled her back into the water. "Mm, you little minx."

She giggled and squirmed in his strong manly hold. Alas, it didn't laxen, his arms held her all too tight. She inhaled a deep breath, expecting to be served some of her own medicine. Instead, he kissed her.

"I don't think spankings would work underwater, do you?" Jon raised a brow.

"Not quite," she responded, unsure of where he was going with this.

"Well, how else am I gonna get you back for trying to drown me?"

"Mm.. you could always kiss me again? And tell me how sorry you are for splashing me, and how much you adore me and loathe to go against my wishes."

His nose crinkled adorably. "Huh. I think I'd much rather spank you."

"In that case, I'm much inclined to stay in the water."

Jon was tall enough to touch the bottom of the pool, Amelia clung to him with both arms and legs.

"Now what?" She asked. "It's late, dark, cold, and we're both soaked through."

"Do you ever stop complaining?" He laughed, swiping all of the wet hair away from her face. "Just enjoy the moment. Listen to the birds, the crickets. Feel the moonlight and the breeze. Just relax, forget about everything."

Amelia took a deep breath. She felt the moonlight bare down on her face, the ripples in the water gently caress her half naked body. Her lovers arms encased her, held her strongly so she wouldn't have to go to the effort of treading water. Jon was right, what had she to complain about?

"I'm sorry," she muttered bashfully. "Sometimes I forget to simply enjoy the moment."

"That's alright," he said softly, kissing her wet cheek. "Fancy a swim?"

Amelia looked at the glistening pool, then back to her boyfriend. "I know that I deserve it, but will you promise not to drown me?"

"I promise sweetheart. I'll play nice."

Amelia and Jon chased each other around the pool, engaged in quiet splash battles and took turns in testing who could hold their breath for the longest. Jon won, though with the unfair advantage of larger male lungs and being a singer.

Amelia was shivering by the time she finally crawled out of the pool. Jon padded inside to retrieve some blankets and snacks, while Amelia commandeered the hammock. That hammock was probably larger than Jon's damn single bed.

"A'right," Jon announced, hopping into the hammock. The movement caused the thing to sway uncontrollably, so much so that Amelia felt a little queasy after the amount of pool water she'd swallowed. "Well, I bought out the rest of the cake, some cookies and a few blackberries."

He wrapped a blanket around Amelia's shivering form. "Take that sopping wet shirt off, you'll warm up."

She did as he said, leaving the both of them in only their underwear.

"That chocolate cake isn't at all good for my figure," Amelia commented.

"N' cookies aren't good for my heart, but you don't see me stopping myself." He shovelled an entire biscuit into his mouth. "Darlin', I love all kinds of women," he said with a full mouth. "What man doesn't love a few curves? Eat the damn cake."

Amelia didn't need to be told twice.

"It's peaceful out here," she said softly. "Almost makes me forget you're a world famous rockstar now. Makes me forget about Richie and my family."

"Mm. It is peaceful."

The gentle sway of the hammock was enough to lull her to sleep. They discarded their plates and wrappers on the floor, and had taken to cuddling each other with the blanket draped over them.

"I don't want to have to go home," Amelia whispered, drawing shapes across Jon's damp chest. "I'll phone my father in the morning, tell him I'm still with Spankie."

Jon's face was an image of delight.

"I don't want to let you go at all. You sure you have to go back this week?"

"Of course I do," she chided. "It's not often I see my family. I'll see you on tour."

"Yeah, as what? Your boss? I want to kiss you, Amelia. I want the world to know that you're mine. I don't wanna be fumblin' around behind closed doors, lookin' out for Richie."

"We don't have a choice. I'm not ready to tell him."

"Why not?" Jon challenged. "Why don't you want to tell your parents about me?"

"Because I'm scared, Jon. You know this."

"Scared of what?" He attempted to sit up and view her expression from a better vantage point. It only caused the
hammock to sway wildly. "They're your parents Amelia, what are they gonna do? You're twenty-damn-five years old and they love you to death. They might have a funny way of showing it but they do. What are you afraid of, they kick you out? They wouldn't dare, your mother would fight your father to the death if he ever tried. They can't stop you from seein' me anymore, if things get awkward you can always come live
with me."

"That's easier said than done," Amelia argued, pushing a harsh palm into the centre of his chest. "These are my family, I don't want to upset them."

"So that's it!" Jon sat up and snapped his fingers. The flimsy hammock started to swing again. "That's what's botherin'
you. You're not scared of gettin' kicked out, you're embarrassed of me!"

Amelia jumped upright, her face the epitome of offence.

"Embarrassed!" she gasped, just about ready to pummel him. "How dare you suggest such a thing!"

"It's true! I aint no doctor, no lawyer, I'm just a dirty little rockstar. I was never good enough for you and your family,
the Bongiovis are dirt next to the Samboras, you've always known that."

"Don't," Amelia spoke with burning tears. "How can you suggest that? How can you accuse me of being classist; not only prejudice of you but of my own brother. How can you know me and yet say such a thing?

"How can you deny it? Your father's got enough money to send his precious daughter off to a prestigious English
university, and he could do it ten times over without feelin' a hole in his pocket. My family could hardly afford to feed me during that first tour. The five of us were all livin' and travellin' in one stinkin' bus and apartment. It was my mother that came round every day with food and mattresses to keep us afloat. Not your family with all their thousands, but my mother. I know Rich was struggling but he could've gotten
help if he'd been willing. He ate from my own mother's hand when all he really had to do was grow some balls and ask
Daddy for a few spends, even if it hurt his pride."

"I didn't know that," Amelia admitted, and she couldn't deny that she was appalled. "But it's not relevant right now. What Richie does and has done is no indication of me, how can you
accuse me of viewing your family as dirt? Your financial status has hardly crossed my mind."

"Hardly," Jon scoffed, folding his arms across his chest.

"Not at all," Amelia corrected. "I am not embarrassed of you."

"Then why would they be upset?" Jon pressed, sitting up on his knees now. Arguing in such close proximity in such a precarious environment was not something he'd recommend to himself in the future. "Why would they be upset to know that their daughter's got herself a boyfriend that loves her to pieces? Unless they were classist. It doesn't even make sense for God's sake, I have money now! I got millions of dollars and I'd give you every damn one, just like I'd have given you every dime I had as a kid."

“I am not classist,” she reiterated fiercely, attempting to reach Jon’s height by sitting on her knees. “My parents would feel betrayed to have been kept in the dark for so long. Richie would be both livid and heartbroken to know I’d never trusted him enough to enlighten him. For goodness’ sakes, I adore you! A million dollars or one dime, you’re the same man I fell in love with. I’m not embarrassed of you, if I were then I never would have fought so hard for you when we were younger. I ran away several times! I refrained from
speaking to my parents for weeks at a time because I told them that if they couldn’t love the man that I loved then they certainly didn’t love me enough.”

“Then fight for me now!” Jon argued, resorting to petulance. “Your parents were assholes back then, they’d need a lot of audacity to be angry at you for not opening up to them. N’ Richie’s as good as my brother, he loves me, he’ll get over it.”

“I’m not ready, Jon. You promised me you wouldn’t pester, it was our condition.”

“You’re twenty-five years old, Amelia. You’ve got to face your fears someday.”

“Not now!”

Having grown sick of his persistence and harmful claims against her character, Amelia attempted to dessert the hammock. The fabric gave way instantly with the shift in weight; both Amelia and Jon tumbled disgracefully to the ground.

“Ow!” the woman cried, having landed on the array of plates and bowls from before.

“Amelia!”

She spotted a silhouette crawling quickly to her side.

“You alright? What did you hurt?”

Amelia didn’t want comfort from a man that had accused her of classism moments prior. Bravely, she clambered to her feet and tugged the half-torn blanket around her almost naked self, heading for the back porch.

“Amelia, wait!” he called, jogging to keep up with her. He appeared in front of her, sidestepping each time she tried to
go around him.

“Go away, Jon. I’m going back home,” she sniffled, the sting in
her elbows and along her side only making her more emotional.

Jon snatched the blankets away from her and examined the cuts and bruises she’d sustained.

“Shit,” was his first response. Even in the dim light, Amelia could discern that both her hip and elbow were bleeding. “I’m
sorry, are you alright? Does it hurt?”

“Of course it hurts, you daft fool,” she hissed, snatching the blanket back to cover herself. “But I don’t need consolation from a man who believes me to be a bigoted scumbag.”

“Amelia,” his brows knitted together. “You know I don’t think that."

“Sure sounded like it. You accused me of being embarrassed of you, of seeing you as dirt.”

“But you know I didn’t mean it,” he implored. “That’s what we do, Amelia. We argue about dumb and stupid things and then we make up, we always have.”

“Dumb and stupid things are ‘who ate the last cookie’ and ‘why didn’t you take the trash out this morning’. Not accusing
someone of being a bigot, because in my mind there is little more heinous than judging somebody based off their wealth
and financial status.”

“I know that, Millie,” Jon said softly, continuously blocking Amelia’s escape. “I’m sorry, alright? I just got a little heated, I wanna be with you, y’know? At twenty-six I didn’t think I’d still be sneakin’ around with you like I did when I was eighteen.”

Amelia eyed him warily.

“Now come on, stop. You’re hurt, let me see.”

Amelia didn’t move. Jon sighed and once again snatched the blanket away. “Stubborn,” he muttered quietly as he
examined the wounds. “C’mon, I’ll clean your cuts.”

She had no opportunity to object; he was already carrying her into the kitchen. Amelia sat curled up in one of the wooden chairs, watching Jon navigate the kitchen in search of antiseptic wipes.
He took a seat opposite her and wiped gently at the numerous grazes."

He cooed softly when she flinched at the sting. “It’s alright, it’ll be over in a second.”

It wasn’t. It stung like a bitch, but Amelia was too proud to let her pain show.

“I love you, you know that right?” Jon said softly, his voice adorably light and hopeful, almost like a flute. “I’m sorry, I can be an asshole sometimes.”

He reminded her of a golden retriever that’d just spilled something on the couch and was now begging its owner for forgiveness and love.

“I’m sorry too.”

Jon’s smile purified.

“So, you’re not going home?”

Amelia couldn’t help her smile as she shook her head.

“No. Not unless home is back to your place.”

His smile turned teasing.

“I’d quite like it to be.”

“Someday, Jon, someday. But not yet, I'm not ready."

It was killing Jon. She could see it clearly; he was just as desperate to be with her as the day he left her, he looked about ready to pummel the Samboras if they gave him any trouble.

Amelia was running out of time.

---

Sorry for the incredibly late chapter. Things have been happening in my life, writing hasn't been my top priority.

Hopefully I'm compensating with the longest chapter yet, though perhaps not the greatest quality.

But I have so many plans and so many things I'm excited to write about. It's gonna be great, I hope.

Stay tuned 😁 and hopefully it'll be out sooner than later

Let me know what you thought of this in the comments, your feedback always keeps me going! 💗