June 6th 1987 / Rumson, New Jersey

“First stop: The mall,” Jon announced, parking up his shiny corvette.

“And you’re taking me shopping for what, exactly?” Amelia asked, trying to contain her smile. She’d never been shopping like this before. He was going to spoil her, she knew.

“Anythin’ and everythin’ you want baby,” he grinned. “My Princess gets whatever she wants on her birthday.”

Jon slid his sunglasses off his head and onto his nose. Amelia didn’t understand. He wore them everywhere, he swore blind that it prevented him from being recognised.

Like hell it did.

The pair made their way inside, Jon relinquished all control to Amelia and let her drag him around the place.

He hated malls. He hated how many people there were, how loud and busy it was. The things he did for Amelia.

They were approached multiple times before they even made it to their first store. Amelia was starting to realize just what the rest of her life would entail. Forever sidestepped, overlooked, grimaced at. Forever in the shadow of her famous boyfriend.

Girls came up to them, shoved her aside and asked her to take photos of them with Jon. Others shot her with looks of disdain, examining her up and down with a nasty sneer. Some merely stared at her, trying to discern just who the hell she was. A rare few smiled at her.

But she didn’t mind. Amelia was a tough cookie, it’d take more than a few dirty looks to bring her spirits down.

“Come on,” Jon grabbed her hand and dragged her away quickly. “Before I get swarmed.”

Once one person recognised him it was only a matter of time. He’d be lucky if the press didn’t show up.

“Where to?” he asked. “And I’d choose somewhere quick if I were you. Unless you wanna be weavin’ your way through crowds of girls for six hours.”

Amelia wasn’t familiar with this mall at all. She smirked, naming the only store she was absolutely certain they would have.

“Victoria’s Secret?” she suggested in her most angelic voice.

“Say less.”

He was already dragging her in the right direction, head down.

Amelia had never been shopping with him in a lingerie store. She was rather excited by the prospect of it, she could show off all her new outfits to him like they did in the movies.

Jon was practically salivating looking at all the different garments. Hell, he was probably turned on from looking at the mannequins wearing them.

Amelia was a little shy as she walked around. She refrained from picking items up even if she liked them. She didn’t know what was considered ‘sexy’. Jon certainly did.

“Mm, you gonna give me a little show in the fitting rooms?” he whispered, pinching her butt as they walked around.

She scowled. “If you behave, then perhaps.”

She eventually plucked up the courage to pick up a laced bra with matching underwear.

“What do you think?”

Jon grinned like a dog with a bone.

“I think… I want to see you in them.”

It was in that moment that she realized that’d be the answer every time. He didn’t care about what colour they were, what fabric they were, he just wanted to see her wearing them.

That gave her the confidence to pick up a few more items she liked.

Brassieres, panties, stockings, you name it. Jon followed her around dutifully, grinning each time she added another item to the existing pile in his arms.

“Can we go to the fitting rooms yet?”
Amelia looked at him flatly. His arms were practically overflowing, but he seemed all too happy to hold them.

“Fine.”

Jon dumped all of the clothes on the changing room bench, grinning like a mad man.

Amelia folded her arms across her chest. “You can wait outside.”

“Outside??” His face dropped. “You can’t be serious.”

Amelia took some pleasure in the way the corners of his mouth drooped.

“Yes. I’ll show you when I’m ready.”

“But Amelia- !”

“Out,” she shooed him past the curtain. “I don’t need any distractions.”

He muttered a string of profanities, plonking himself on a bench just outside the room.

Unbelievable! He walks around for half an hour carrying everything and he doesn’t even get to watch her try them on.

He looked at his watch impatiently. What was taking her so long?

“’Melia? What’s goin’ on in there?”

“I’m not sure..” she called back, sounding a little preoccupied. “I don’t know how I feel about it.”

“Can I see?”

There was a moment of hesitance, and then the curtain opened. Jon’s head whipped around to make sure no passerby’s might catch a glimpse of her.

Far too brazen of her to open the curtain when she was dressed in such a fashion. He stood and made his way towards her, closing the curtain behind him.

“What are you doing?” she asked. His hands secured themselves at the small of her waist, then traipsed downwards feeling out her soft curves.

His grin spread like a wildfire.

“You look lovely my dear.”

The tension in her brows dissipated at once.

“I do?”

Jon blew out a soft whistle. He spun her around at the waist like a ballerino with his partner, examining the back with great pleasure.

“Pfft, of course! That’s the sexiest thing I ever did see.”

“You like them then?” she smiled.

“Like them? Babe! What man doesn’t like stockings?”

Stockings were everything a man loved all wrapped up in a neat little package.

“I’ve never worn them before,” she said quietly, “I wasn’t sure I had them on right. Are they supposed to be so... revealing?”

“That’s the idea,” he grinned. Amelia had never seen him quite so entranced.

“They’re a little ‘50s for my taste,” she muttered sceptically, turning back to the mirror. Would it not be a pain to wear them during sex? Would they not get sweaty? She didn’t wear socks during sex, why would she wear pantyhose?

Well, Jon seemed enamoured with them. In the mirror she saw his eyes fixating on one thing; her exposed buttocks that he couldn’t refrain from kneading every once in a while.

“You have no idea what dirty thoughts are going through my mind right now.”

She rolled her eyes at him. “I’m sure I could hazard a guess.”

They made eye contact in the mirror, and for what it was worth Amelia couldn’t help but reciprocate his glowing smile, even if he was a little perverted.

“You look beautiful baby. You like ‘em?”

Amelia wasn’t quite sold on them. She understood the appeal of them; if she were to bend over Jon would have access to anything and everything he wished for. But then again the same could be said if she were naked.

“I’m not fully sold on the practicality. What’s the point in the pantyhose? Wouldn’t you rather I was naked?”

He shrugged. “It’s nice to switch it up a bit sometimes. We can always try ‘em out. If you don’t like them we don’t have to do it again.”

That was as good an answer as she’d get.

She’d end up wearing them. She hadn’t failed to notice Jon’s hard-on from merely looking at her.

“Alright. I’ll keep them then. Just remember that you’re paying for all this.”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Amelia waited for him to leave. He didn’t seem to catch the hint, only stood smiling and drooling at her like a dog.

“Aren’t you going to leave?”

“Hell no baby. And have you fling the curtain open like that again? Only for Gary the Pervert Employee to walk past and have a little ogle at you half-naked? No chance.”

She furrowed her brows at him. “There was nobody there.”

“No, but there could’ve been. And I don’t want any other man seein’ you standing there in stockings and a bra I can see your damn nipples through.”

Amelia’s hands went to cover her nipples.

“I never had you pegged as an insecure man, Jon Francis,” she teased. “I’m not sure that Gary the Pervert would be enough to tempt me. Why not let them look?”

“And I never had you pegged as an exhibitionist,” he smirked. “Besides, I’d rather stay in here. I’ve already been flashed by three young ladies n’ the moms in here have been eyeing me like a piece of meat. Their boyfriends look like they want to kill me.”

Amelia chewed on the inside of her cheek.

“Fine. But you have to turn around. No peeking.”

“Promise.”

He turned around and closed his eyes.

Amelia set about peeling the stockings off and changing into a matching pair of laced underwear. This was the sort of thing that she felt more comfortable in; maybe she even felt a little sexy. The stockings were far more foreign.

Jon’s eyes were already staring at her when she looked up in the mirror.

“I thought I said no peeking.”

“I’m no better than any man, baby. Couldn’t help myself, you’re a supermodel.”

“And you’re a pervert.”

“I’ll have you know I’m admiring very respectfully.”

Each time his eyes surveyed her body from head to toe, they seemed to get a little stuck in the breast section.

In fairness, that particular bra was a little small. Her chest was just bursting out of it.

“What do you think?” she asked, giving him a slight twirl.

“I think you look smokin’ babe. Like a girl in a magazine.”

“A pornstar?” she grimaced, looking back in the mirror.

“Let’s say more of a model.”

She didn’t want to look like a pornstar, even if the only person she’d be seeing was Jon.

“Do I look like a prostitute?”

Jon quirked a brow.

“No. You look smoking hot.. but also, classy, elegant. You look a billion dollars.”

“Do you like them then?”

“Babe. It’s skimpy bras and lacy panties, I’m gonna like all of ‘em,” he gestured to the pile, “But I want you to like them. I want you to feel confident in them- sexy. There’s no point in my waggin’ my tail n’ droolin’ at them if you don’t like them. I thought it might be something a little fun for us; somethin’ new in the bedroom.”

“I do like them,” she mumbled, adjusting the straps on the bra. “I just.. I’m not sure. Don’t you think they’re a little unflattering? The hem is a little low, I’ve put weight on recently.”

She saw something flash through Jon’s eyes, some fleeting irritancy.

“Yeah, so have I,” he muttered dismissively. “So does everybody in a relationship. I hadn’t even noticed.”

“Really?”

“Yes? I love you, Amelia, I don’t care how big or small you are. I’ve been with girls that are a hundred pounds and girls that are double that. No, I didn’t notice that you’d gained a pound or two. You’re thin, all the Samboras are. I don’t think about these things, pounds, zits, pimples, I don’t want a porcelain doll. I want a real woman with a heartbeat.”

“I know,” Amelia said. Of course she knew that. She’d lucked out with him, Carol and John had raised him right.
And it seemed that even after becoming a rockstar he hadn’t turned into a complete womanizer. He loved them, sure, he lusted after models and singers alike, but he worshipped Amelia like an angel from heaven. At the end of the day she knew he was her man, she knew that no amount of lust or horny testosterone would be able to pry him away from her. No temptation was great enough to make him risk losing her for the second time.

“I’m just feeling a lot of pressure right now.”

“Pressure?” Jon shouldered himself off the wall. “Pressure from whom?”

“Everybody, everything. People are going to start to spot us, Jon. Hell, even today people already have. Sooner or later people are going to realize we’re an item and all hell is going to break loose. I’ll be slated by every brand of magazine you could possibly imagine. Girls everywhere from Sweden to South Africa are going to want me dead. People will point out the pounds, the zits, the pimples. I’m a proud person Jon, I try not to care what people think of me but I can’t help it. I’m not ready.”

Jon wrapped his arms around her from behind.

“The people will love you, ‘Melia. I keep telling you. They’ll try to make you into a famous model or somethin’. You’ll be the next Cindy Crawford, heck, you even look a little like her! Shorter of course, softer, sweeter, but nobody in the world could dislike that face. Look at Tommy- he just got with Heather Locklear. People are jealous, sure, but you don’t see any tabloids attacking her.”

“Heather’s famous. And forgive me for my bluntness, desirable as Tommy Lee may be, he’s nowhere near as lusted after as you.”

“Trust me. The people will love you, and the tabloids will love the fact that I’m dating Richie’s sister, they’ll go nuts.”

Amelia wasn’t sure she wanted the tabloids to go nuts. She just wanted to live in peace, unfortunately that didn’t seem like an option considering Jon’s status. Of course such a wonderful partner came with a price.

“Okay…” she muttered tentatively.

“But back to more important matters,” he folded his arms across his chest, “Do you like the clothes?”

“Do you like them?”

He rolled his eyes, unable to contain his smirk. “Of course I like ‘em, what do you take me for?”

Seeing his smirk had reminded Amelia of why she wanted to come in Victoria’s Secret in the first place. He was looking at her like a dog with a big juicy steak, if he thought she looked sexy in it then what else mattered? That was enough to boost her confidence.

“Alright then,” she beamed. “I’ll get them.”

Jon walked out with a large bag full of Victoria’s Secret’s clothes, and he couldn’t have been happier to do so. Even if the price tag had Amelia cussing him out.

“Next stop, the dress store. Gotta get you something to wear for tonight’s dinner.”

Amelia felt much more comfortable shopping for dresses than for underwear. It was also the first time in her life she’d been so free of a budget.

“What do you think?” she asked for the umpteenth time, spinning around with a long dress held up to her frame.

Jon was nowhere to be found. He’d left her?

“Jon?” she called, peering over the racks in confusion.

Across the shop she caught him sporting a brown cowboy hat, checking himself out in the mirror with a stellar grin.

Men.

“I see that you’ve found the fancy-dress section,” she mused. “Having fun?”

He spun around and tipped his hat. “Well howdy darlin’, aren’t you just the most root’nest toot’nest little lady in the wild wild west.”

Amelia used her clothing hanger to hide her small giggle from him.

“Charming,” she spoke in her ever even voice. “Say, you look a little clean-cut for an outlaw.”

Jon whistled, elongating his smirk of confidence.

“How else ‘you expect a man to get laid ‘round here little darlin’.”

“Oh?” Amelia pondered with a smile. “I’d have thought that your average lady likes their man a little rough-looking. Gives him personality.”

“Oh, I got plenty of personality alright!” he continued in his deep southern accent. “Round here they call me Johnny- n’ they don’t play around with ol’ Johnny or they know what’s comin’.”

Amelia shook her head at him, snatching the silly hat from his head.

“You’re a real cowboy, aren’t you?” she smiled gently. Something in his eyes lit up.

Men really got excited over the silliest things. She kissed his cheek fondly.

“Well you know what they say- I’m Wanted Dead or Alive.”

“If I recall, dear, it was you that actually said that.”

“Do you doubt my desirability, love?”

“Not at all, though I doubt many would like to receive you dead.”

“Oh, I sure don’t,” he scoffed, “Every pretty girl that throws her panties up at me on stage has a boyfriend you know. They’re plotting against me collaboratively.”

“In that case I suggest you hire some bodyguards, I don’t want you dying on me.”

“Pah, no chance. I’d rather die than become some caricature of rock stardom.”

Amelia squashed the cowboy hat back down on his head.

“In that case I suggest you avoid any more cowboy hats, and maybe steer clear of leopard print? It’s become awfully cliché these days.”

“My darlin’ you simply know nothing about fashion.” He fixed the hat straight again in the mirror. “That being said- that’s a damn smokin’ dress you got there, or at least it will be when I see you in it.”

“You like it?” Her face lit up like a firework. “Lovely color, isn’t it?”

“I love a brunette in green. Why don’t you try it on for me?”

Amelia dumped the rest of her bags with him and ran off to the dressing room.
Who knew trying on clothes for your boyfriend could be so exhilarating?
Jon was waiting outside the changing rooms for her with a smirk plastered across his face. He about drooled when he saw her.

“What do you think?” she gave a giddy twirl.

“You look exquisite.”

“Exquisite?” she giggled, “How fancy.”

“I’ve been trying to up the ante when it comes to my English. Ever since you got your degree I’m afraid I don’t quite live up to your literary expectations.”

“Oh really?”

“Uh huh. You’ve bewitched me, my dear, with unprecedented loveliness.”

Amelia smiled.

“Try again.”

Jon sighed.

“You look beautiful, Amelia. So, so beautiful.”

“That’s better,” she reached up to palm his cheek, “Now you sound like you again.”

His bashful grin was not lost on her.

“I want to see you in that tonight.”

“You think I should wear it for dinner?”

“I do. And hopefully that ring’ll ward off any men wanting to try it on with you.”

“Darling, these days the men are more interested in you than they are in me. It should be me taking you to the jewellers.”

He didn’t seem convinced.

“I see you haven’t lost your hat while I was changing.”

“Lost it? I already bought it. A man can never have too many hats, just like a girl can never have too many rings.”

Silly man. He looked like something straight out of Young Guns.

Amelia ended up leaving the store with four different dresses, courtesy of Jon’s robust bank account.

“That’s the great thing, baby,” he’d said, “Now I can finally buy you all the things I wished I could buy you when we were kids.”

“I hadn’t wanted your money, and I still don’t. You will always be enough of a gift for me.”

“Every man wants to spoil his girl, it’s the natural order of things.”

She’d known when they were younger that it had somewhat wounded him to be the less-financially fortunate of the two. He always wanted it to be him paying for motels, not her. Even in his most difficult times he refused to accept her money. She found it to be ridiculous, self-destructive, and overly prideful, but he was old fashioned in that sense.

How things had changed for him, walking out of a store with a thousand dollars-worth of dresses without so much as a blink.

It seemed Amelia was in the same position as she’d always been; begging him not to spend such ridiculous amounts of money on her.
He proceeded to shower her with more jewellery, clothes; he even managed to find a candy bar with her name on it.

That’s right, he’d bought her a chocolate bar with ‘Amelia’ written across it; one of those gifts that seven-year-olds got their girlfriends on Valentine’s Day.

He wasn’t too impressed when she started eating it in his corvette.

“It’s a chocolate bar,” she responded flatly. “If only you were such a neat freak when it came to your house.”

To Amelia’s surprise Jon ended up taking them both back to the Sambora abode, insisting that her family were most excited to see her on her birthday.

And it'd be nice to spend some time with Richie now all was sorted.

He was still a little guilty about everything that’d happened a few weeks prior. It was difficult for him to look Jon in the eye; particularly when said eye was still faintly yellowed.

Jon, of course, had chosen to ignore all of Richie’s apprehensions and embraced him like the brother he’d always viewed him as despite their complications.

Richie offered Jon his room when it came to getting ready for dinner. Amelia had apparently been feeling a little old fashioned- she had disallowed him from getting ready with her.

“How do I look?” Jon asked his friend who’d been lounging on his bed with a rather unsavoury magazine while Jon was getting ready.

“Almost good enough to date my sister.”

A grin spread across each of their faces.

“Almost,” he said as he stood. “Pass me that comb.”

Jon acquiesced, though not without confusion.

Richie started to drag it through Jon’s knotted mane, his approach considerably rougher than the few times that he’d allowed Amelia to brush his hair.

“I’ll tell you what Kidd, all of us have gotta get our hair cut before we start writin’ for the next album. We’re starting to look like Poison.”

“You mean like girls?” Jon smirked.

“Yeah. And hairspray’s gettin’ expensive these days. You think your dad’ll let me in for a haircut after the eye thing?”

“The ‘eye thing’ is a secret between me and the Samboras. There was no use in getting Mom so worked up over something that’d heal.”

“Ah,” Richie mumbled bashfully. He placed the comb back on his dresser. “What do you think?”

Jon turned back to the mirror.

“Fuck off Rich, you made me look like a girl!”

He tried desperately to ruffle his hair and inject some volume back into it. In the end he required a few puffs of Aquanet spray.

Yes. His hair was definitely getting cut sooner than later.

“You had a big knot, man,” Richie shrugged. “Didn’t want you goin’ out there looking like that.”

Jon shot him a scowl.

“Here, try this.”

Richie tossed a tube of cologne his way.

“It’s a hit with the ladies. I save it for special occasions.”

“Isn’t every night a special occasion in your life?”

Richie shot him a grin.

He applied some to his neck, wrists, and when Richie wasn’t watching he swiped one below the belt.

“Now how do I look?”

“Well, I don’t know if I’ll ever think anyone’s worthy of dating Amelia- but you’re pretty close, Kidd.”

“Will I ever get further than pretty close?” Jon smiled.

“Probably not.”

“Not even on our wedding?”

“Doubt it.”

“What would I have to do to get further than that. Die for her?”

“If you died for her, I might consider you deserving of her.”

“Right,” he chuckled. “I’ll put that on my bucket list.”

Jon looked at himself in the mirror for a little longer. Amelia was the only person in the world that could force him into a suit, he was sure of it. That or a funeral.

“What are you smiling about?” Richie asked, now having resumed his spot on the bed.

“Nothin’.”

“Hey Kidd. I thought we agreed no more secrets? I’ve had enough of all that this past month.”

Truthfully, Jon had too. He was ready to finally let Richie into his confidence.

“Amelia found an old letter I’d written her under our bed.”

“What did it say?”

Jon took a seat on the edge of Richie’s bed.

“I proposed to her. ’85. Chickened out of sending it.”

“You proposed to her?”

Richie couldn’t hide the hurt from his eyes. Jon couldn’t fault him, he’d been so oblivious to everything.

“Well, I’d tried to. I wasn’t sure a written proposal was good enough for the romantic in Amelia- I was being a chickenshit. If I was gonna do it I should’ve flown over.”

Although, on the way to the mall Amelia had assured him that she was quite fond of his written love profession. She compared it to some… Wentworth? Or something? One of those old romantic book characters that she liked.

Richie had remained noticeably silent.

“I’m sorry. Guess I’m just finding it a little hard learnin’ all of this stuff. I knew- or at least thought I knew Amelia had a couple boyfriends over the years, but I can’t get my head around you two together. Never mind proposals. All this time and I knew nothing.”

“I wanted to tell you.”

“I know,” Richie muttered. “I know how unbearable I was, you don’t have to tell me. I just wish I could turn back time, you know? I wish I coulda been there for you both, with you both.”

Jon shrugged. “It all worked out in the end. It was nice to look back on the past, put myself in the shoes I wore when I wrote that letter, but I don’t like to dwell on it. Life moves on. You’ll still be the best man at our wedding.”

Richie couldn’t help his laugh. “Really?”

“Who else? You’re my best friend. Isn’t that what a best man is?”

“I’m hardly the ‘best’ man. I would’ve thought David would get the spot- or Obie.”

“Obie hardly even knows Amelia, and Dave’s even worse than you when it comes to punctuality and any kind of responsibility.”

“I guess.”

Two knocks on the door put an end to their conversation.

“Yeah?”

Amelia stepped inside.

“Woah..” each muttered in unison. Jon had already seen her in the olive-colored dress just hours prior but with her hair styled and make-up on she looked like an angel fallen from the sky.

“What do you think?” she asked them both, ironing the dress out along her hips.

It wasn’t lost on her how handsome Jon looked in his suit.

“I think you look like a Princess,” Richie approached her, “And I think my friend back here is a little tongue-tied.”
He shoved a thumb in the direction behind him.

“I don’t get tongue-tied,” Jon smiled, standing to give Amelia a sweet and love-filled kiss. “But what can I say darlin’, you look beautiful.”

“And you’re looking very dashing,” she spoke giddily. “If only your mother could see you looking so smart in a tux.”

She’d be sure to fawn over him like mad lady.

“Mom will see my in a tux on our wedding day, and probably never again. Not unless I win an Oscar or somethin’.”

“Well, I wouldn’t put such an honor past you my dear. You’re a very talented man.”

That sure had him grinning. It seemed that no matter how many fans, interviewers, critics, and fellow celebrities praised him, the joy of hearing it from Amelia was never lost on him.

The couple were eager to make their departure, though were thwarted by Amelia’s parents giving final birthday gifts and well-wishes.

“Where are you going?” Amelia asked.

Instead of unlocking his prized corvette ‘Phyllis’, Jon faced toward the garage with the keys in his hand.

Her father’s keys no less.

“We aren’t taking the car, baby.”

“We aren’t taking the car? Whatever do you mean?”

As the garage door opened Amelia realized just what he meant.

“For old time’s sake.”

Jon’s old Harley Davidson was sitting just by her father’s car.

“You can’t be serious,” she laughed. Despite the idea of going to dinner on a motorcycle being nothing short of ludicrous, Amelia was flooded with fond memories of the two of them cruising through dark New Jersey streets.

How young they had been. If only they’d known what life had in store for them back then.

“I’m deadly serious,” Jon smirked. “I’ll take you to birthday dinner on this thing if it’s the last thing I do.”

“And if I refuse?”

Jon beheld her tiny smirk. It was nice to see a more playful side of her start to emerge. The more time he spent with her, the more he saw the old Amelia come through.

“That’s the best part. You wouldn’t.”

She had to concede defeat.

“I take it you finally have a license for this thing?”

“You never did quit bein’ a priss, did you?”

“Watch your mouth Jon Francis.”

“Well, you’ll be happy about this. Guess who still gets to wear their favorite helmet?”

Amelia just about wailed, and not with joy.

“Absolutely not. For goodness’ sakes, I’m an adult. I can choose which safety precautions I bypass.”

“Not on my bike,” he said, holding the dreaded thing up to her head.

“It’ll ruin my hair and make-up.”

“I’d much rather that than you smash your head open on concrete.”

He pressed a firm kiss to her lips before shoving the helmet on her head.

“But what about you!” she argued. “I don’t want your face getting mashed up in the ground either. I quite like it as it is.”

“My bike, my rules. Besides, I like the unpolluted peripherals.”

Oh, it was a dispute they’d had countless times. Always the same arguments, always the same outcome.

And so Amelia was forced to mount the bike with that bulky and obnoxious helmet, meanwhile her boyfriend’s hair was free to flow in the cool night breeze.

Life was so unfair.

They must’ve looked ridiculous; two well-put-together and fancily dressed people riding around on a Harley Davidson together. Nevertheless, they made it to the restaurant without drawing too much attention.

“Just like old times,” Jon grinned, helping Amelia take off the offending helmet.

“Indeed. I had forgotten the thrills of riding around with you on that thing.”

“Ridin’ round with your arms wrapped around me n’ my hair blowing in the wind reminds me that life’s truly worth living.”

“As if you needed that reminder,” she tapped his arm fondly, “Rockstar.”

“Everyone needs that reminder from time to time. Now then. Italian food? I thought we could try again after last time. Maybe this time you’ll finish your bruschetta.”

Amelia’s smile was one of pure, unbridled happiness. She intertwined her fingers with his, reaching to her tippy toes to drop a kiss to his cheek.

“Italian sounds wonderful. But then again, sitting down on the beach with nothing more than a cheap lot of fries sounds wonderful, so long as it’s with you.”

“You’ve been awfully romantic tonight,” he chuckled. “What’s gotten into you?”

“Love, Jonny. Its powers are inexplicable. I don’t believe that people can know true happiness until they experience love.”

In that moment he couldn’t help himself. One hand palmed her cheek, the other cupped her waist as he pressed a passion-filled kiss to her lips.

He loved being a man. He loved holding her smaller frame in his arms knowing he would protect her no matter what. He loved being able to wrap himself around the entirety of her, being able to hold all of her face in the palm of his hand.

Most of all, he loved being able to experience all of the things that love could do to a man.

And above even that, he loved her.

“I don’t believe that happiness exists without love,” Jon murmured, cupping both her cheeks in the palms of his hands. “I love you, Amelia. From the day I first met you I loved you, and I’ve loved you a little more every day since.”

Amelia pushed a stray hair away from his face.

“Loving you makes the guilty catholic in me want to kneel down and thank whatever powers that be for gifting me with a life so full of joy. I can’t imagine a world in which I’m deserving of you, all I can do is thank you. Thank you for treating me with love even when all I gave you was hate. In the end it was you that waited for me. Thank you for being so patient with me, Cowboy.”

He shook his head rapidly.

“Don’t thank me. Just kiss me.”

She did so wilfully and wholeheartedly. She felt herself levitate both literally and figuratively, his strong arms carrying her effortlessly.

Her legs were jello when placed on the ground again.

“Cowboy, huh?” Jon whispered, filling the comfortable silence. “I like that.”

“It felt fitting.”

He finished with one final kiss to the spot between her brows.

“I’ll have to think of a nickname for you sometime, beyond ‘Melia or Little Miss Priss.”

She leaned into his embrace with a hearty laugh.

“Little Miss Priss? I hadn’t heard that in a while.”

“On second thoughts, I think Little Miss Priss suits you just perfectly.”

“I think you ought to come up with something a little more flattering.”

“I’ll think on it,” he teased, jamming an elbow into her waist. “Now come on. Let’s go get you some food.”

The private booth was the same as last time. So many memories in such a small place. It was there that she’d first accepted Jon into her heart again. There that she’d sobbed, scolded and berated him. There that she’d learned of his proposal attempt in 1985.

Perhaps fittingly it was only today she’d gleaned the story in its entirety.

Ordering was no issue this time, each got the same as they did last time.

“I’ll finish that bruschetta this time if it’s the last thing I do,” said Amelia.

Jon reached for both of her hands across the table.

“Are you getting déjà vu?”

He laughed. “A little. But I’m not so on edge this time.”

Whilst holding her hand he marvelled at the ring he’d bought for her almost three years ago. He’d scrounged up every dime he had for it- it was the best he could afford at the time.

It was incapable of any innate beauty, but upon Amelia’s finger it shone like the moon on the water.

“You know how I recognized you that day at Giant’s Stadium? When you were sittin’ head down on the bench n’ I was with those girls.”

“Those scantily clad groupies, you mean.”

“Yeah.. those.”

“No. My hair?”

“No,” he responded. “Your hands. You were fiddling with something in your lap. I never forget those hands, I recognized them right away.”

“You recognized my hands?”

His placed his lips to her knuckles. “In a heartbeat.”

Amelia didn’t know what to make of it. Not her hair, not her clothes but her hands. Could it be so?

“Well. I recognized your silly cowboy boots. They’re not real snakeskin, are they?”

“Sure they are baby. Already shed skin, obviously.”

“Next you’ll tell me your leopard prints are made from real leopard hide.”

He shot her a playful glare. “Very funny.”

“Though I’m not sure I’ve seen many pink leopards around.”

He gagged. “Oh stop. Those days are long behind me. Polygram wanted us to wear those things to get more sales.”

“So essentially you were pimped.”

Another even stronger glare.

“Look at me now, darlin’. Am I not every bit the man you envisioned being with when you were a little girl?”

She looked him up and down. He was undoubtedly handsome in a suit, manlier than usual. But he was no Mr Darcy, not the British aristocrat she’d once dreamt of sweeping her off her feet.

And yet he had something of a claim to the lopsided smirk of arrogance he displayed. He’d earned the right to it by now.

“You’re a little rough around the edges,” she smiled fondly. “But sure Cowboy, you’re not too far off.”

Every young girl dreamt of a handsome man that showered her with love and gifts. She’d found that and so much more.

His eyes remained on her all through their starter. The green of her dress brought out the brown in her eyes.

“You said you still had one more surprise left. What is it?”

“Darling. The meaning of surprise seems to have escaped you.”

“Oh Jonny please tell me.”

He gave a mischievous little laugh.

“No.”

“You’re an intolerable man.”

“Intolerable? You ladies could do with a little gratitude.”

She knew from his smirk that he was joking. It didn’t stop her from brushing her ankle against his.

“You know there’s nothing in this world that I’m more grateful for than the love of a good man. And even if there was no surprise, I would be happy to simply go home and spend the night with you after such a wonderful day.”

She was sure a meal of this calibre would cost hundreds of dollars. The booth itself likely cost equal. She made sure to thoroughly enjoy each bite.

“God, I’m stuffed,” she announced after finishing the last of her dessert.

She knew what was coming as soon as she spotted his grin.

“Not yet you’re not.”

“Oh, whatever would we do without your charming self?”

Jon paid the bill with a generous tip to the waitresses. His Harley Davidson was looking rather out of place in the staff car park.

“Beautiful sunset,” Amelia remarked upon exiting the building.

“Yeah, gorgeous.”

He shrugged his jacket off and slipped it onto Amelia. Resistance was futile, she knew.

“Check the pocket,” he said.

“Why, what is it? Jon dear, I know I said I’d marry you but we really are too young.”

He laughed again. “Don’t worry, just check the damn pocket will ya?”

She did so carefully, pulling out what appeared to be a blindfold.

“What’s this for?”

“It’s to keep the integrity of the surprise,” he grinned, starting to fasten it around her head.

“But-“

“Hush now. Don’t worry. Do you trust me?”

“Of course I trust you, but I object to this nonsense. It’ll ruin my make-up.”

“Eh, you know I never cared much for make-up anyhow.”

“I worked hard on this you know.”

“And you look beautiful. But it’s gonna run tonight anyway.”

“Oh, you-“

He kissed her again before forcing the stupid helmet back onto her head. That seemed to be the only way to shut her up these days.

“Now, can you see me?”

“See you? Don’t be ridiculous, it’s so tight I can’t even open my eyes.”

“Good.”

He helped her mount the back of his bike, and soon they were sailing through the streets again.

“Are you taking me to someplace I know? Why else would you require a blindfold?”

If anything she was persistent.

“Because you know these streets, and I like a little excitement.”

After half an hour, the bike came to its final halt.

“Where are we?”

He laughed again, picking her up off the bike and placing her on the ground. He removed both the helmet and the blindfold. "See for yourself."

“Oh!” she cried.

Waves of emotions swept her away. Of course the ever-romantic Jon would bring her here, back to where it all began.

“Picked up the keys this morning.” He took them from his back pocket and jingled them in her face. “Room thirty-five’s all ours again baby.”

She jumped for joy into his arms. “I never thought I’d see this crappy place again, but right now I couldn’t be happier.”

That run-down motel had housed all of her earliest memories with him, both debauchery and intimacy, all from before Carol and John were comfortable enough to have the pair share a room together under their roof.

“You like it?”

Amelia laughed aloud. “Like it?? God, I could kiss you! I will kiss you!”

Jon certainly had no objections.

She pulled away, arms still locked around his neck.

“Have you been in there? Does it still smell of cigarettes and dogs?”

“I didn’t get a chance to check, but I’m sure there’s no getting rid of that old stench.”

“Wonderful,” she giggled. “God, on a scale of one to ten how badly smudged is my make-up?”

Jon inhaled a sharp breath.

“Well. You’d make a good Halloween costume.”

That earned him a light shoulder smack.

“Well, right now I truthfully couldn’t care. Show me to our room Cowboy.”

He did so gladfully. The old tattered door hadn’t changed one bit, still the chipped red paint with the ugly off-white border. As for the smell, well, you needn’t enter to get a whiff of it.

“You ready?” He asked, arm locked around her waist. “First room we ever slept together in.”

“Yes, I’m ready.”

She clung to him as he unlocked the door and pushed it open. Inside was pitch black, the smell dreadful and oddly comforting.

Life had been so kind to them since this old place.

Amelia needn’t have fumbled around in search of a light switch, she was able to pinpoint it with no issues.

She gasped with joy. On the old double bed sat a large chocolate cake surrounded by fresh rose petals and another bottle of wine.

“You didn’t!” she cried.

“I asked the staff to do a little somethin’ for you. You like it?”

“Of course I like it.”

Wanting to jump for joy was not a position that she found herself in all too often.

The cake had Happy Birthday Amelia written across it in bright red, numerous hearts surrounding it.

“You’ve outdone yourself, you know?”

“Oh good,” he beamed, “Had to do something romantic for your special day. Now then, wanna relax with a glass of wine and some cake?”

“Jon darling. Do you really have to ask?”

---

Sorry about the long wait 😬 being busy and having writers block is NOT a good combo.

But alas, here we are.

And I think I've finally figured out more of a direction for this story, so stay tuned 😁

Let me know your thoughts in the comments! 🩷🩷