TWENTY-EIGHT

Cate involuntarily cringed at the identification of Jon’s caller.  “Oh God.  She saw it, didn’t she?”

Jon shrugged grimly.  “Guess I’m about to find out, huh?”

“Jon, you can’t tell her…”

“I know.  Believe me, I’m not.”  He tapped the phone’s little screen before raising it to his ear.  “Hey, Mom.”

“Why Johnny!  I’m surprised I reached you!  I thought you might be out on the water or something.”  Carol’s delighted chirp in Jon’s ear made him flinch.  He knew she was sincerely happy to speak to him, but that her call was not simply a check-in.

“Nah, not today.  Cate and I are out shopping.”  Jon gave his wife a little smile as he said her name.

“Well that’s nice.  They have some lovely shops on the island.  Are you in Gustavia?”

“Yeah.  We’re just strolling around.  I’m trying to convince Cate to let me buy her something pretty.”  Jon rolled his eyes as he heard Carol’s soft cluck of concern.  She had never been good at hiding her motives. 

“And how is Cate?  Is she feeling well?”

“She feels great, Ma.  Kicked my ass in a five-mile run this morning.  Up the mountain.”  Jon’s nose wrinkled with his mischievous smirk at Cate.  “You wanna talk to her?”

Cate’s eyes widened at Jon’s suggestion.  “NO!” she hissed, shaking her head vigorously.  “Jon!”

“No, that’s okay, Dear.  I only have a minute, but tell her your father and I say hello.”

Jon took a sip from his almost-empty iced tea glass, swallowing noisily before continuing the conversation.  “So that’s why you called, in the middle of the afternoon?  Just to say hi?”  A note of smug accusation crept into his tone.

“Can’t a mother call her son just because she’s thinking about him?”

“Yeah, Ma, she can.  But that ain’t why you’re calling.”  Jon chuckled.  “I know you too well.”

“Johnny!  I was on my way back from lunch with the girls and I just thought I’d see how you’re enjoying your vacation.”  Carol’s rebuttal wasn’t persuasive.

Jon slumped against the booth’s high back, his butt scooting on the vinyl as he stretched out his legs.  He gave Cate a silent “here we go” look.  “Lunch with the Girls, huh?”

“Yes.  You know we always meet at the clubhouse on Wednesdays, for lunch and cards.”

“And did the Girls happen to ask about me?”

“Well, yes... Betty did mention she saw some nice photos of you and Cate on your vacation, when she was reading the news online.  You remember Betty, don’t you, Johnny?  She lives on the corner? Her husband is the retired airline pilot?”

Jon chortled softly.  His mother was trying hard to hide her alarm.  He wondered how she had reacted when her bridge partner had congratulated her on her rumored new grandchild-to-be.

“Sure.  Betty and Bob.   Nice folks.”  Jon answered smoothly and briefly, purposely evading the topic he knew Carol was trying desperately to broach.

Carol was silent for a moment, then spoke again, tentatively.  “Betty said you looked very relaxed and happy in the pictures she saw.  You were on the beach, dancing.  And Cate looked lovely.  Glowing.”

Jon couldn’t hide a snort of amusement at his mother’s leading comment.  He gave Cate another little eye-roll and reached up to drag a hand through his hair.  “Ma, it’s bullshit.”

“What?”  Carol’s faux-innocent query was so exaggerated it was laughable.

“Oh, come on, Ma.  You know what.  Stop playing games.”  Jon’s growl was gentle, but serious.  He was fast losing patience with her beating around the bush.

“Johnny, of course I don’t believe those trashy magazines.  I never have.  They’ve printed so many nasty things about you and Dorothea, especially when you were having your troubles…”

Jon bristled at Carol’s mention of the tabloids’ coverage of his divorce, though he held his tone in check.  “So, if you don’t believe ‘em, then why are you calling me now?”

“I told you.  Just to say hello.”

“And to hear it from the horses’ mouth, right?  That Cate’s not pregnant?”  Jon’s expression turned stormy.  “That’s what you really want to know, isn’t it?”

“Johnny!  Why are you being so defensive?”  Carol’s reply was far from apologetic.  “I told Betty not to believe everything she reads.   After all, if you and Cate were having a baby, you’d have told your father and me.”

Jon sighed with exasperation.  “And have we told you that?  To start knitting booties again because there’s gonna be another grandkid?”

“No.  Of course not.”

“Well then, there’s your answer, Ma.”  Jon tipped his head back against the booth, rolling his eyes skyward.  He sighed again, then dropped his head to look at Cate.  She was sitting motionless, her lips nervously parted.  Her sapphire eyes glittered as she stared at him, silently begging him not to confess their secret. 

Jon’s heart twinged at the worry painting her beautiful features.  Sitting forward, he reached again for her hand.

“Ma, listen.”  Jon’s words were calm, his voice level.  “It’s just a sensational headline to sell magazines.  Or get website hits.  Whatever.”  He gave Cate a reassuring half-smile as he gently squeezed her hand.

“Well, thank goodness.  Like I told your father, it couldn’t possibly be true."  She laughed liltingly.  After all, Cate’s not a young woman anymore.” 

Carol’s relieved rush of words made Jon’s smile fade.  He ground his teeth together to prevent himself from revealing too much with an automatic retort.  As much as he wanted to admonish his mother for her backhanded slight of his wife, he would just be opening the door to further inquisition.

“Listen, Ma… I gotta go.  We’re going out to dinner with friends, so we’re headed back to the house to change.”

“Oh, okay.  I don’t want to hold you up.”  Carol’s breezy remark made Jon grit his teeth again.  Now that his mother had gotten the answer she obviously hoped for, she was willing to sign off.  “Have a lovely time, Dear.”

“I’ll tell my wife you said hello.”  Jon put extra emphasis on Cate’s title for his mother’s benefit.

“Oh, yes.  Please do.  We’ll see you both soon.”

“Yeah.”  Jon’s lip curled as he fought not to growl his reply.  “Give Dad my love.”

“I will.  I love you, Johnny.”

“You too.  Bye, Ma.”

With a weary sigh Jon brushed his thumb across the screen to end the call, then dropped the phone on the tabletop.  Again he pulled his hand through his hair before looking up at Cate.

“So, is she relieved?”  Cate’s voice was flat.

Jon’s lips pressed together in a firm line, knowing his wife could read the answer in his eyes.

“I’m not sure relieved is the word for her reaction,” he answered quietly, trying to soften the blow.  “I think she was just pissed off that we didn’t tell her personally.”

“What?  That we’re not pregnant?”  This time Cate couldn’t hide behind her sarcasm.  Her lip curled into a little sneer as she spat out the response.  “Well shit, Jon.  I guess I forgot to call her and tell her when I got my period last month.  I better put it on my calendar so I don’t forget again.” 

“Cate.”  Jon’s voice was quiet, sympathetic to the emotion behind her retort.  Though she said otherwise, Jon knew it bothered Cate that his mother had never fully accepted her role in his life.  “It’s none of her business.”

“Well, she thinks it is.  You’re almost fifty, but you’ll always be her Little Johnny-Boy.”  Cate sighed.  “And as far as she’s concerned, Dorothea is still the only woman for you.”

“You know, she didn’t like Dorothea much at first, either.  Especially when we got back together.”

Cate snorted.  “Well, I don’t forsee Carol warming up to me like she did to your first wife.”

Jon gave her a wry smile.  “Don’t be so sure.  Just wait until she’s bouncing another Grandbaby on her knee.”

Cate arched a brow.  “Oh, you mean the Grandbaby we hid from her?  That she had to find out about in the tabloids?”

Jon’s grin widened at her snarky retort.  Without realizing it, Cate had acknowledged with her comment his earlier argument, that perhaps the gossip column headline was accurate.

“She’ll get over it.”  Jon tugged Cate’s hand across the tabletop, then lifted it to his lips.  “Don’t let her get to you, Baby.  All that matters is us, how we feel about each other.”  He gave her hand a gentle squeeze before pressing another kiss against her knuckles.

Cate sighed heavily, raising her free hand to tunnel her fingers through her thick chestnut tresses.  “I know, Jon.  But it gets old, her catty comments and fake friendliness.  I wish she’d just tell me straight-up that she doesn’t like me.  That I can deal with.  These stupid games drive me crazy.” 

Jon shrugged and let Cate pull her hand from his grasp, then he slouched back against the upholstered bench.  He echoed her sigh.  “She is who she is, Cate.  She drives me crazy too, sometimes.  Hell, most of the time, anymore.  But she’s my mother.  I owe her my life.  Literally.”

A pang of guilt rippled through Cate’s heart at Jon’s weary confession.  She didn’t want to make it harder for him, dealing with the rift between his mother and his wife.  He was already caught in the middle. 

“I know, Jon.  And I’m sorry.  It’s just… well, I guess it’s just everything, today.” Cate’s shoulders slumped with her apology.  “The pictures, the questions, the fucking herd of paps following us around…  I’m just hypersensitive right now, I guess.”

Jon smiled sympathetically.  “S’Okay.  You have nothing to apologize for.  You’re entitled to be a little short-fused today.”  He chuckled softly.  “And at the risk of you throwing that plate at my head… maybe you’re a little hormonal, too?”

His comment caught Cate off-guard.  She stared at him for a moment before a little smile crept to her lips.  Jon’s observation was actually quite practical, considering her recent therapy and the current status of her cycle.

“Well… maybe,” she agreed sheepishly.

“You know, I have a little experience with pregnant women.”  Jon winked, his smile broadening.  “The roller-coaster ride at the beginning is almost as wild as the one at the end.”

“You’re getting a little ahead of yourself, don’t you think?”

Jon grinned and reached for his pocket.  “We’ll know pretty soon, won’t we?  Once we get back home?”  He pulled out his wallet and slipped a few colorful notes from the fold, then dropped them on the table beside the remains of his lemon tart. 

“Whaddya say we get outta this place?  Go back to the villa, just chill out for a little while before we get dressed up for dinner?”

Cate nodded, a small sigh of relief escaping her.  “That sounds wonderful.  I’m sick of all this, all these eyes on us.”

Jon slid to the end of the bench and stood, then helped Cate from her seat.  He gave her a cheeky grin, unable to resist voicing the tune that flashed through his mind.

Pri-hi-vate Eyes

They’re watching you

They see your ev-ery move…

Cate rolled her eyes even as she giggled at Jon’s silly little croon.  “Hall and Oates?  Really?”

“Philly Soul at its finest, Baby.”  Jon’s hand settled on the small of Cate’s back as he guided her toward the café’s entrance.  He paused to slip his sunglasses over his eyes and waited as Cate did the same.  “You ready?”

Cate took a deep breath before nodding slowly and giving Jon a little smile.  Together they moved for the door.

*****

Cate sighed wearily she settled on the edge of the bed.  She gathered her skirt up to her knees, then reached down to slip her high heels off first one foot, then the other.  Cate let the elegant strappy sandals fall against the polished wood floor with a quiet clatter before releasing the silky azure knit from her clutch.  It slipped downward, its wispy hem tickling at her calves.

Her expression blank, Cate reached for the small beaded purse she had dropped on the bed before sitting.  Extracting her phone from the little bag, she turned the glowing screen to her gaze.  One quick tap of her manicured finger opened the bookmarked link.

Cate’s lips pursed with displeasure as she saw the list of titles had grown.  Her renewed Google search now yielded over two hundred news article results for the keywords “Bon Jovi” and “pregnant,” nearly half of them posted in the past two hours.

She growled softly as she perused the list, not the least bit amused by some of the more clever headlines.

Baby Jon Bon?

Bon to be Their Baby?

A Bon (Jovi) in the Oven?

Five at Fifty?  Is Jon Bon Jovi Adding to his Brood?

Bon Jovi is Just Older – But Not Shooting Blanks Yet!

Though she didn’t really want to know more, Cate stabbed her finger against the screen, randomly opening a link.  She cringed as she was greeted with a new photograph of her and Jon, one taken just hours ago during their ill-fated shopping excursion.  The photographer had managed to capture Cate’s hand brushing over her middle as her handbag dangled from the bend of her elbow.  The angle of the photo made it appear she was cradling her womb with one hand while her other was clasped affectionately in Jon’s as they strolled together down the sidewalk.

“Fuck,” Cate sighed wearily.  She reached up to sweep her hair back from her forehead, her fingers tunneling into her long tresses and pulling them back from her face.

“Hey.”  Jon’s gentle voice made Cate look up.  She saw him standing in the doorway to the master suite, unbuttoning his white cotton shirt.  “Whatcha doin’ there?”  Jon nodded at the glowing device in his wife’s hands.

Cate gave Jon a guilty half- smile.  “I know, I know… But I can’t help it.  It’s all so fucking frustrating.”

Slipping the last button free of its hole, Jon wandered over to where Cate sat morosely on the big bed.  The halves of his shirt slipped open as he moved, revealing his tanned chest and abdomen.  Cate’s eyes automatically settled on her husband’s bared torso, then slid upward to the cluster of charms nestled in his silver fur.  She shrugged sheepishly when he stopped in front of her.

“Lemme see that.”  Jon reached down to take the phone from her fingers.  With a little grunt he turned and lowered himself onto the bed’s edge beside Cate, then raised the screen for his inspection.  He gazed at it for a second before snorting a derisive half-laugh.

“Superman At Night – Age is Not Jon Bon Jovi’s Kryptonite,” he read aloud, a smirk twisting his lips.  “Well, at least they got that part right…”  Jon turned his head to see Cate’s reaction to his teasing boast.  His smile softened when she dropped her gaze to her lap, her head bowing as she sighed again.

“Baby… you know this is all gonna blow over in a day or two.”  Jon slipped his hand onto her thigh and gave it a reassuring squeeze.  “Just try not to think about it.  And stop looking at all these bullshit stories.  You’re just gonna make yourself crazy.”

“I know.”  Cate’s reply was a guilty half-whisper.  “I know you’re right.  But I just can’t seem to let this one go.  It’s too… I don’t know.  Just…too personal, I guess.”  She looked sideways at Jon, her heart melting at his sympathetic gaze.

“Cate, you’ve dealt with the press before.  Hell, even long before we met, when you were investigating crimes.  You know how it is:  get the story, no matter what.  Every little detail gets you attention.  Scoop the other guys.” 

Jon tossed Cate’s phone aside, watching as the device bounced lightly on the bedcovering.  “Only unlike the real press that covers actual news, these fucking vultures get to pretty much make shit up and hope it sticks.  As long as they stay in the gray area and don’t actually say you’re pregnant, they can speculate all they like.  And there’s not a damned thing we – or our lawyers – can do about it.”

Cate raised her head and let it fall back as she sighed noisily, her mahogany mane sliding over her slumped shoulders and down her halter-bared back.  She stared at the ceiling, exasperated with herself.

“I know, Jon.  But I can’t just turn my mind off, stop thinking about this.”

Jon chortled softly at her frustrated growl.  He shifted closer to her on the bed, his hand sliding across Cate’s back and curving around her side.  “Well…” He dropped his face closer to hers, his lips brushing over her cheek before slipping to her ear.  “Why don’t you let me take your mind off of things?”

A tingle rippled down Cate’s spine at Jon’s suggestive purr in her ear and at his soft lips against her skin.  But despite the pleasurable stimulus, she felt a flash of annoyance.  It was just like him to think he could dissolve her anxiety with a sexy distraction.  Pulling her head upright, she shrugged, leaning away from him.

Jon paused, surprised at her rebuff.  He pulled back a bit and gave her a quizzical look.  “Cate… C’mon.  Forget about that bullshit.”  He smiled persuasively.  “It’s our last night here.  Let’s make it memorable in a good way.  Okay?”  He leaned toward her again, his lips seeking her neck.

Again Cate squirmed at his advance, this time raising a hand in a silent halt signal.  Again Jon pulled back, this time without an amused smirk.  He regarded her profile as Cate stared across the room, avoiding his eyes.

“Seriously, Baby?  You’re gonna let this ruin our evening?  You said earlier you could put this afternoon’s crap aside and have a good time tonight.”

“I know, Jon, but…”

He interrupted her sigh.  “But obviously you didn’t.  You were hardly present at dinner.  You kept sneaking off to ‘take a call’ or to use the powder room.  You kept checking the web, didn’t ya?”  His brow arched with his accusing tone.

Cate turned to look at him, a fiery spark in her gaze.  “Hey, I did have to take those calls.  It was Gus, and they were important.  There’s stuff happening with our case…”

“Come on, Cate.   Maybe the calls were real, but I saw you sneaking glances at your phone.  And no woman has to pee that many times in one evening.”

She blinked for a moment at Jon’s astute observation for before sighing again.  He wasn’t wrong… she had checked the web several times throughout their evening to see if their story was growing.  Each confirmation had left her more unhappy. 

“Oh, okay,” Cate admitted wearily, dropping her sapphire gaze again to her lap.  She picked at the filmy fabric of her skirt, watching it ripple over her thighs.  “Yes, I checked.  I couldn’t help myself.  This thing is like a fucking train wreck… I don’t wanna see it, but I can’t stop looking at it.”

Jon chortled softly at her defeated confession.  His hand slipped back to the small of her back and rubbed gently, comforting her.

“Yeah, I know.  Believe me, I’ve been there.  But Baby, you gotta stop.”

“I know.”

They sat in silence for a moment, Jon’s palm circling reassuringly against Cate’s back as he watched her expression.  Cate’s lips pursed as she considered her husband’s advice, and his physical overtures.  She wanted to agree with him, to be carefree and relaxed and romantic on their last vacation night.  But she just couldn’t muster the frame of mind.

“Baby… I’m sorry, but I’m just not… not in the mood.”  Cate turned her head to look at him, her mahogany tresses sliding over her shoulder to hang in a shimmering curtain beside her face.  “Will you be angry if I ask for a raincheck on the sex?”

Jon gave her a tender smile.  “Of course not.”  He curved his hand around her side again, giving her a gentle hug.  “I mean, it’s not like it’s our absolute last chance to make love before we leave this place.  We can always do it in the morning.”  He chuckled at his tease.

“Yeah, I guess so.”

Cate’s less-than-enthusiastic sigh made Jon’s smirk fade.  His head tilted as he gave her a concerned look.  “Baby, what else?  What aren’t you telling me?”  The flash of sadness she saw in her blue eyes almost made him cringe.

“Nothing… Well, not really.”  Cate looked away again, down to her lap.  “It’s just… well…”  Again she brushed at her skirt as she tried to figure out how to phrase what she needed to confess.

Jon’s shoulders slumped with his sigh as he read her mind.  “It hasn’t been all that great lately, huh?  Our sex life?”  Though his words were stark his voice was gentle.  He could literally feel Cate’s relief at his observation, her posture slumping a bit against his loose embrace.

Cate shook her head slowly, a tiny wistful smile curving the corners of her mouth.  “No.  Not exactly.  I mean… it hasn’t been bad…”

“But it hasn’t been all fireworks and flamethrowers, either,” he pointed out. 

Jon smiled, encouraged by Cate’s husky chuckle at his analogy.  He hadn’t been the only one to notice their recent sexual encounters had lost some of their spark. 

Jon knew his and Cate's busy schedules and their fertility struggles had put a damper on their marital relations.  Contrary to his early assumptions, the increased frequency of their intercourse hadn't produced a corresponding bump in sexual satisfaction.  As much as he hated to admit it, Jon had found himself regarding sex as a chore on a couple of occasions.  Literally adding it to his daily schedule, to correspond with Cate’s ovulation, hadn’t helped. 

“No, it hasn’t.”  Cate glanced sideways at Jon and saw his affectionate gaze.  It encouraged her to face him.  “I’m sorry.  I didn’t want to say anything, to make you feel like… well, you know.”

“S’Okay.  Maybe we need to talk about it, get it out in the open.”

“Yeah, maybe.”  They exchanged a long look before Jon slipped his arm from around Cate’s waist and took her hand.  He twined his fingers with hers, resting their clasped hands on her lap.  Cate smiled sheepishly as she looked down at their joined hands, her wedding band and engagement ring shining softly between the lace of their fingers.

“It’s just been hard, Jon.  For me.  I mean… it’s not that I don’t want to make love to you, I do.  But I just start thinking about sperm and eggs and fallopian tubes and hormone levels and mucous density and…”  Her lip curled as she grimaced lightly.  “Well, it’s hard to stay in the moment, you know?”

Jon chuckled as he matched her “eww”  face, his nose wrinkling above his gentle grin.  “I know, Baby.  I get it.  The biology ain’t exactly sexy.”

“How about you?  You said it hasn’t been great for you, either.”

“Well, it hasn’t been bad.”  Jon repeated Cate’s clarification.  “But yeah, lately it’s been… I don’t know.  Kinda… forced, I guess.  You know, with calendars and ovulation schedules and counting days and ‘Hey, drop everything and fuck me right NOW’.”

Cate’s brows lifted at Jon’s mildly sarcastic comment.  “I’ve never said that!”

“Not in those exact words, no.”

Cate frowned as she tried to recall an instance of sex-on-demand she had foisted upon Jon.  Her mouth curved into sheepish smile when her memory locked on their early-morning workout room encounter, several months ago.  “Oh.”  She was sure there were probably other similar situations.

“I’m not complaining, mind you.  I’m just saying that sometimes… Well, sometimes it feels like work, not play.”  Jon snorted wryly.  “I know I’m a workaholic, but… well, this ain’t quite the same.”

“I’m sorry, Baby.  I didn’t mean…”

“I know.”  Jon cut her off.  “You don’t have to apologize.  We both feel the pressure.”  He dropped his gaze to their joined hands as he gave hers a reassuring squeeze.  “But we still manage to get through it, somehow.”  He smirked.  “It all cums together in the end.  My boys get headed upstream, lookin’ for your girls.”

Cate fidgeted beside him, his teasing pun making her involuntarily squirm.  Her cheeks colored lightly as her mind flashed back over her increasingly-frequent dramatic performances.

Jon noticed.  “What?”

“Umm…”  Cate took a breath in preparation for her confession.  Jon was right; they needed to talk about this uncomfortable topic.  But she didn’t want to hurt his feelings, either.

“Baby… what?”

Cate turned her face to Jon’s, her glowing sapphire gaze meeting his soulful indigo stare.  She gave him an apologetic smile as she half-mumbled her reply.

“I.. um… don’t always… get there.”  She watched as Jon’s expression morphed from concern to confusion, then to comprehension and surprise.

“What?  You mean you… you don’t cum?”  Jon’s blue eyes widened at her disclosure.  “But that’s not possible.  The way you… you moan and pant and… Fuck, Cate.  You scream like a banshee!”

Cate couldn’t stop a sympathetic  giggle at his exclamation.  Her cheeks flushed even more.  “Well… guess you’re not the only actor in this family.”  She shrugged sheepishly.  “You’ve seen When Harry Met Sally.”  She giggled again as she recalled the famous scene.

“But…”  Jon’s mouth hung open for a moment while he considered his wife’s confession.  “All the time?”

“No!  God, no!”  Cate hastily allayed his concern.  “No, Baby.  I don’t fake it all the time.  Just… sometimes.  Like if we’re in a hurry, or we have somewhere to go…”

“Well you sure as fuck didn’t fake it in the wine pantry.  That I know.”  Jon’s adamant declaration bolstered his ego.  But he still looked a little shell-shocked.

Cate’s blush deepened.  “No, I didn’t.  That was… well, that was the best we’ve been in awhile.”  Her voice gentled.  “Jon, I’m not saying you’re a bad lover.  ‘Cause God knows that’s the furthest thing from the truth.” 

She gave him another tender, apologetic smile.  "It’s not you… it’s me.  I just get so… so anxious.  You know, trying to time everything right, to be sure we have the best chance of getting pregnant.  And if that means I have to… well, help you along a little… by acting… then that’s what I do."

“So you pretend to have an orgasm so I’ll do it too.”  Jon gave Cate a pained smile.  “Baby, why don’t you just tell me if you need… more?”

Cate dropped her gaze, her modesty finally getting the better of her.   She mumbled her answer. “Because, Jonny.  I don’t need to cum.  What I need is… is you to cum.”

Jon’s expression softened at her embarrassment, but he couldn’t resist a gentle tease. “Ah.  So those times you were just using me for stud, huh?  A sperm donor?”

“Well… yeah.  I guess so.”  Cate shrugged.  “Sorry.  But that’s what’s most important right now.”

Jon’s heart twinged at the note of sadness in his wife’s soft voice.  He sighed and leaned forward to nuzzle her cheek.

“Baby, it’s okay.  I get it.  But I wish you woulda told me…”

“I didn’t want to make you feel bad.  And it wasn’t you, Jon.  It was me.  Just me.”

“Nah.”  Jon pressed a kiss to Cate’s cheek.  “It’s not just you.  It’s us.  I shoulda paid more attention.  I get distracted sometimes too.”

Cate chortled softly.  “You mean you shouldn’t have been fooled by my amateur acting?  Considering you’re a real actor?”

Jon grinned.  “Oh, no.  I’m not letting you bait me into that trap.  Then you’ll be mad at me for insulting your acting skills.”

Cate smiled at his response, then sighed wearily.  “Look, Baby.  It is what it is.  Every marriage has its ups and downs, including in the bedroom.  I guess this is one of those downs.”

“So maybe we need to work on it, turn it into an ‘up’.”

“How?”  Cate gave Jon a suspicious sideways glance.  “You’re not suggesting some kinda therapy, are you?”

“FUCK no.”  Jon’s answer was vehement.  “That’s the last thing we need, some head-shrinker asking us about our parental issues or fear of intimacy or some other bullshit they make up to keep us coming to five-hundred-dollar-an-hour sessions.”

Cate chuckled softly.  “I didn’t think so.”

“No, I just mean maybe we should try a little harder.  In the bedroom department.  You know, make romance a priority, make it fun.”

“Like what? Play some kind of kinky little games?”  Cate’s comment was a full of wry sarcasm.  If she and Jon both viewed sex as a chore she couldn’t see how making it more work was going to help.

“Maybe.”  Jon grinned.  “You could dress up.  You know, in one of those sexy little French maid outfits or something?”

Cate gave him a skeptical look.  “Is that what you want me to do?”

Seeing she was serious, Jon backpedaled.  “Not if you don’t want to.  I was just throwing out an idea.  After all, it worked for me, dressing up for you.  Remember?”  He smirked, recalling the time he had donned some of his old, outrageous stage wardrobe to woo Cate into bed.  His efforts had been well-rewarded, even though they hadn’t quite made it to an actual bed.

“Yeah, I remember.”  Cate smiled in spite of herself, enjoying the memory.  “I don’t know… we’ll see.”  She snorted softly before making another sarcastic proposal.  “Any other suggestions?  A stripper pole in the bedroom, maybe?  Another trip to Vegas to visit Raven?”

Jon grinned at her cynical offerings.  “Well, last time you tried to use a pole you fell off and sprained your wrist, remember?  And as for Raven… I’m not sure my old heart could handle that again.”

He gave her cheek another nuzzle. “Baby, all I’m saying is maybe we just need to work a little harder at making time for us.  Stop making dates to visit doctors and labs and start making dates to spend the night in, with candles and a bottle of wine, regardless of what day of the month it is.”

Cate nodded slowly, then turned her head to brush her lips over Jon’s.  “Maybe you’re right,” she sighed.  “But when?  You’re gonna start shooting soon, my case is heating up…”

“We’ll figure it out.  But we have to make time for romance.  Just like we make time for everything else.”  Jon tugged their clasped hands closer to Cate’s stomach.  “And as for this… I just have a feeling, Baby.  It’s gonna happen soon, if it hasn’t already.  Then we won’t have to worry, to try so hard.”

“I hope you’re right.  God, Jonny, I hope so.”  Cate’s voice was weary, tinged with a mixture of sadness and relief.

“Trust me, Baby.”  Jon pressed a kiss against Cate’s cheek, then smiled.  “And as for that other thing… I’m gonna work damned hard to be sure you enjoy yourself.  Every time.”

Cate chuckled.  “There you go again, with that ‘work hard and you can do anything’ mantra.”

“Well, it’s true.”  Jon smirked.  “You’ll see.  I’ll make it happen.  Even if I have to install a damned ladder in every room of the house.”  He winked playfully at Cate with his reference to their wine-pantry tryst.  “You just sit back and enjoy the ride, Baby.”

“Well okay, then.”  Cate smiled and looked down again at their entwined hands.  “But not tonight, okay?”

“Okay.  But tonight I’m gonna hold on to you tighter than usual.  Okay?”

Cate nodded gratefully and tipped her head onto Jon’s shoulder.  “Promise?”

“Promise.”

*****

Jon lowered his newspaper and looked to his left.  Across the aisle Cate was curled into the wide butter-leather seat, gazing out the porthole.  Beyond the window fluffy white clouds floated in a bright blue sky.  

A pair of glossy magazines and a newspaper lay scattered on the table in front of her, ignored.  Jon could see a bold headline postulating "Baby Makes Three?" topping a familiar full-page photo on the front of the tabloid paper.  He growled softly, wishing Cate hadn't visited the small travel store at the terminal while their jet was readied. 

“Baby?  You okay?” 

Cate half-turned her head toward the sound of his voice and nodded.  “Fine.  Just thinking.”

“Wanna tell me?”

She shrugged.  “Not really.”

Jon bit back his impulse to pry.  “Okay.”  He glanced at the dial on his wrist.  “We should start our descent pretty soon.  Almost home.”

“Good.”

Sighing softly, Jon returned his attention to his paper.  Clearly Cate wanted to be left alone.  

She had seemed fine this morning when they packed up and departed to the villa, but once they boarded the jet she had turned quiet.  Jon knew her subconscious coping strategy was again in action; his wife would remain behind her invisible wall until she had analyzed and compartmentalized everything that was bothering her.  Once her thoughts were sorted she would let him in again.

Realizing he was no longer interested in the day’s news, Jon shook out the paper and folded it before dropping it onto the table.  He glanced again at Cate before picking up his iPad from its resting place on the vacant seat to his right.  He settled the tablet in front of him and began to tap at the screen, opening the right windows in succession.

The idea had come to him last night, as he lay awake in the big bed, his wife dozing fitfully in his arms.  After a brief discussion of their plans to depart St. Barth, Cate had insisted they make no plans for New Year’s Eve.  Jon agreed with her desire to celebrate quietly at home, but he wanted to make the evening meaningful.  In the morning rush to depart he hadn’t had the chance to send the necessary e-mail to his assistant, to facilitate his plans.

Bending his fingers to crack his knuckles, Jon hunched over the tablet and began to type.

From:  Bossman83@BJM.net

To:  Renee.Taylor@BJM.net

Subject:  Short-Notice Favor

 Renee –

Need a favor.  Cate and I are flying back today.  Can you get in touch with Rachel Baxter and ask her to send over the stuff I talked to her about last month?  She should know what I mean.  If not, call or text me.  Need it by Friday.

Hope you are having a nice winter break.  See you next week.  Thx for all you do for me.  Happy New Year.

JB

Jon tapped the send button, then slumped back against his seat with a satisfied smile.