Then she dialed ComEd to see about the power.
She waited on hold long enough that she was able to direct the movers while they positioned an admittedly attractive navy blue, midcentury-style velvet couch and two tweedy charcoal club chairs in the living room. When the customer-service representative finally came on the line, he informed her that the power was indeed scheduled to go on today, but she needed to be patient because it was October first.
“Why does the date matter?” Jessica asked.
“October first and May first are the busiest days of the year in the Chicago rental market,” the rep said, in a tone suggesting Jessica was the only person on earth unaware of that fact. “There’s always a backlog.”
For the next hour, she brought up boxes and began to unpack while overseeing the placement of two area rugs, a distressed-wood dining room table with six upholstered chairs, a master bedroom set featuring a sleigh bed, matching dressers and nightstands, and accent lamps she would very much have liked to turn on given the intensifying gloom outside.
She didn’t know what to expect for the guest bedroom but assumed Jon would have chosen bunk beds in whichever configuration worked best for his three kids—a son, Logan, who was in grade school; Paige, a middle schooler; and high schooler Ava. When the movers brought only a single queen mattress, she felt, she had to admit, a sense of relief that he wasn’t planning overnights anytime soon. In the abstract, she loved children. She was absolutely passionate about treating and curing sick kids. But she had never really known how to be anything other than a medical professional diagnosing and treating their symptoms. As an only child who’d never done a single hour of babysitting, she had no model or instinct for cooing to a baby, handling the incessant questions of a fourth grader, or disciplining a teenager who’d blown curfew. The very thought of doing those things made her nervous. She knew she would figure out how to be with Jon’s kids, but she was more than content to wait awhile.
Having made the executive decision that the third club chair was sent in error, Jessica signed the delivery order, gave the movers a healthy tip, and sent them on their way. In the sudden quiet, she felt lonely, and more than a little worried. Jon hadn’t appeared yet, and the rain had turned to sleet. She pictured cars sliding off the Chicago expressways—or into each other.
She had to charge her phone. Dashing out to a nearby Walgreens she’d seen earlier, just this side of the elevated tracks where trains rumbled overhead, she literally ran the whole way but still got plenty wet. Thankfully, they had not only USB cords but a functional outlet right outside the restroom.
With the first sign of a charge, her phone began to ping wildly. There were texts from Jon, the movers, and her mother, who wrote, Are you there yet?? Can’t relax until I know you’re safe.
She went straight to the messages from Jon.
Back in Chicago, but Annie Wilkes is in rare form. Halfway to you but had to pull over to mediate a family situation via group chat. Ugh. Wish I didn’t have to engage but don’t have a choice.
Despite her annoyance at the delay, she couldn’t help but chuckle. Jon often referred to his estranged, soon-to-be ex-wife, Holly, by the nickname Annie Wilkes—the “hobbler” from Misery. The two of them had been living separate lives for years, but he had to maintain a certain air of business-as-usual with the family or she went off the rails—sometimes for days.
Don’t worry about the power, we’ll keep each other warm until it comes on, he added. Also, there are only supposed to be two chairs.
There were more updates as he covertly texted her while dealing with a situation that must have been severely taxing his patience, especially today.
Glad I’m not out at the house. Can’t run away on broken ankles ;-p
Have to keep reminding myself I’m doing this for the kids.
OK, I’m on my way.
Jon was patient, kind, and generous to her, and an utterly devoted father. Jessica had endured the entrances and exits of multiple stepfathers in her life and understood the emotional toll of divorce only too well. Her mother always swore that a new “beau” was the only way to truly move on. Hopefully, Annie would find someone soon.
While her phone was still plugged in, Jessica needed to let her mother know she’d arrived safely—or she’d no doubt have the Illinois Highway Patrol out looking for her. As she was texting to let her know the trip had been smooth, the apartment was amazing, and photos would have to wait until she could fully charge her phone, a new text alert pinged.
I’m here. Where are you?
Textbook Jon, Jessica thought as she opened the door and saw the warm, flickering light of a pillar candle set in a previously unnoticed alcove by the door. Three more candles lit the way from the breakfast bar to the living room, where a fire was already starting to heat the chilly room.
Jon met her at the bottom of the stairs, also candlelit, and took her newly purchased umbrella before greeting her with a long, passionate kiss. “Welcome home.”
The way he had transformed the cold, dark apartment in such a short time was nothing short of magic.
“Welcome home yourself,” she said, kissing him again.
“It’s been a long day,” they said simultaneously before laughing together.
“I’m so sorry I wasn’t here to help,” Jon said, wiping a raindrop off her cheek. “I hated to miss it. Will you let me make it up to you?”
“I’ll think about it,” she teased him, taking in the bottle of champagne, two glasses, and what appeared to be half the takeout section of Whole Foods, all laid out on a blanket in front of the hearth.
“Let me start,” he said, removing her damp jean jacket, “by getting you out of these cold, wet clothes.” He moved on to her blouse, kissing her skin beneath each button as he unfastened it.
She shivered more from desire than cold, particularly after he unbuttoned her jeans, pushed them to the floor, and paused to admire the leopard-print bra and matching panties she’d bought in anticipation of this moment.
“My brilliant brunette bombshell.”
Jessica had grown up thinking she was merely ordinary, nice-enough looking but with nothing to make her stand out. In recent years, however, introversion and interminable hours had bred an aching loneliness that left her wondering if there was actually something inherently objectionable about her.
Until Jon came along and convinced her otherwise.
Instead of tearing off her panties and ravishing her, the next thing she knew he was wrapping her in a delightfully warm blanket he’d placed nearby.
“I’m starving,” he said, flashing a wry smile. “And if I had to wager a guess, you’re even hungrier.”
“Famished,” she said, her voice suddenly husky.
“Just how I like you,” he said, firelight sparkling in his eyes. He took her hand and led her to the picnic he’d created.
As they worked their way through a delicious hodgepodge of everything from cheese and crackers to lemon-herb salmon, they paused to make toasts to Jessica’s arrival in Chicago, to Jon’s great taste in apartments—and to their future together, both personally and professionally.
Jessica bit into a dark-chocolate-dipped strawberry and lifted her glass. “And here’s to attractive rental furniture.”