15.

The next few weeks passed in a whirlwind. Natalie and Richie spent as much time as they could afford together, meaning it was mostly in the wee hours of the morning. He and Jon spent so much time in the studio that they’d even slept there on more than one occasion. Natalie knew she was getting in over her head, but she’d held onto what Richie had told her that night. She didn’t know the exact date he was leaving – he wouldn’t tell her – but whenever his impending departure came to mind, she pushed it as far away as she could.

Word had gotten out that Richie and Jon were around Nashville, attracting a couple of paparazzi and a few of the more…devoted…fans. It made it hard for both of them to visit Benny’s, though they’d come on a few occasions early in the evening to check out some local bands. From time spent together, Natalie could tell Richie and Jon had had a heart to heart. Jon spoke to her with ease, even teased and joked around with like he’d known her all her life.

It was a hot afternoon in July when Richie showed up on her doorstep, dread evident in every crease and line of his face. He rang the doorbell twice and knocked a few times, but the door never opened. He looked to make sure her car was in the driveway, and seeing it there unnerved him. There was no reason for her to not answer her door. He turned the knob and stepped inside quietly.

“Natalie?” he called, to no answer. “It’s me. Are you in here?” he asked, wandering through the house. There was no sign of her until he crossed through the kitchen and saw her out of the corner of an eye through the window. She was climbing out of the pool, water draining off of her body as she pushed herself onto the concrete. She ran two hands along the side of her head to smooth her hair out and tugged at the bottom of her bikini.

“Jesus,” he mused to himself, drinking the sight of her in. She was heading for the diving board now, and Richie watched as she made a clean dive back into the pool before he headed out himself. By the time she resurfaced, he was settling down into a lounge chair next to the pool.

“When’d you get here?” she asked with a wide smile as she treaded the water.
“Just now.”
“Jon doesn’t have you holed up in the studio this afternoon?” she teased.
“Actually, no,” Richie answered, stretching and running a hand along his neck. Natalie eyed him scrupulously and realized he wasn’t telling her something.
“What?” she asked, swimming to the side of the pool and resting her arms against the concrete.
“What?” he repeated.
“What are you not saying?”

Richie studied her face, determined to remember every detail about her. He took note of the size and shape of her eyes, of the way her cheeks dimpled and her nose crinkled when she smiled, of the freckles that splayed across her cheeks and nose. He didn’t want to forget one thing about her.

“That I’m leaving in two hours,” he sighed, sitting up straight again. That face he was trying to etch into his memory – as if he ever stood a chance of forgetting it – fell immediately. Without a word, she turned away from him and dove back under the water. He watched as her hair danced underneath the surface and as her little legs worked to carry her away from him. He thought very seriously that he was going to have to dive in after her, but she finally came back up for air. She wasn’t crying, a fact that made him exhale in relief. He didn’t know what he’d have done if he ever made her eyes glaze over like they were the night after the bar fight.

He didn’t push her to say anything, and she stood there in the water and watching him for a moment. He stared straight back, wondering how he was ever supposed to leave something so magnificent. She wasn’t perfect – by any means. She was little and stubborn. She couldn’t dance to save her life and she was an awful driver. But, somehow, he was certain she was everything he could ever want. When she finally got out of the water and walked toward him, Richie momentarily forgot why he was there. His eyes were focused on the way she bounced in all the right places as she walked in that little bikini, and he broke out into a very inappropriate smile given the situation. It wasn’t until his eyes traveled upward again and he saw the look on his face that he remembered his purpose for being there – to say goodbye.

She stopped in front of him and looked down, beckoning him with a hand to stand up with her. He obliged and rose to his feet, and she placed one hand on his chest and kissed him softly. She kept a fair amount of distance between them, but Richie pulled her against him; a little water never killed anybody.

“What happened to never say goodbye?” she asked wearing as much of a smile as she could. Richie smiled back at her and hugged her tighter.
”Not gonna say goodbye. I’ll kiss you and I’ll say see you later, and I will.”

Natalie buried her face in his chest and inhaled his scent as she bit the insides of her cheeks to keep from crying. She knew in her heart that what he was saying was just for pacification, but she willed herself to believe it for the time being.

“Let’s go inside,” she said quietly, leading him back in through the sliding glass door he’d walked out. “Go on into the living room. I’m gonna go get some clothes on.”

Richie did as he was told (only a little disappointed in her decision to change out of the bikini she was currently sporting) and sidled over to the mantelpiece again. It was a spot in her house that he always found his way to, other than the refrigerator. He loved the pictures of her – of her past. She hadn’t seemed to change much over the years; the teenage Natalie smiling at him from high school pictures looked pretty much like the one he so often woke up next to these days. He glanced over his shoulder and picked up his favorite picture of her, one where she’d obviously been surprised by the camera. Turning the frame over in his hands, he popped out the back and pocketed the picture. Just as quickly, he replaced it with a picture Jon had snapped of the two of them at the bar at Benny’s one night and put it back among the other frames. He admired it in the frame, smiling at how her hair had fallen loose from the braids she’d worn it in that night and wisped around her face. He looked at it nestled between a picture of Natalie and who he could only assume was her sister, because the girl looked a lot like her, and a picture of a big group of people in front of the bar at Benny’s. “Those pictures are exactly the way you left them last time, you know,” Natalie called out as she came back into the room. Richie turned to greet her again wearing a smile, because little did she know…

“Do me a favor?” she asked before he could say anything else.
“Anything, baby.”
“Just sit with me for a while.”

She sank down onto her couch, tossing aside some pillows; she scooted in close when Richie joined her and let her hair rest on his chest. They sat like that for what seemed like days, and neither would have changed it for anything in the world. A thousand thoughts must have passed between them, but neither spoke a word or even moved. They seemed to understand and hear the other without saying a word, yet it was Richie who spoke first.

“You can come with me.”

It was spoken so quickly and so simply that Natalie sat up and looked at him, hurt in her eyes. She wasn’t in the mood to joke anymore, and that hit a definite sore spot. Richie seemed to read her mind, and continued on.

“I’m serious. I’ve got plenty of room. Come with me.”
“To Los Angeles?”
“Why not?”
“Richie, I can’t,” she stammered, shocked by his proposition.
“Why? What have you got here that you can’t leave?”
“I don’t belong in Los Angeles…”
“You belong with me.”
“What am I going to do in LA?”
“Whatever you want. Anything you want.”
“We’ve known each other for a couple of months…”

Natalie could see her arguments were going nowhere as her eyes raced between his. Her breathing had quickened, but Richie seemed cool as a cucumber. The prospect of leaving with Richie was overwhelming. Her initial reaction was to run to her bedroom and pack a suitcase, but her head wouldn’t let her. She had the bar to take care of. She had friends here. She had a house, a job, a life. Granted, a life with one very important ingredient missing, but a life nonetheless. She imagined what a life would be like in LA with Richie…endless days of sun and music, no doubt. She’d travel and see places she’d never seen, probably never even heard of. But then she thought of the nights spent alone while Richie was away, all the cameras, all the things people would say about her; she’d seen the nasty headlines journalists had written about Denise Richards. Could she handle that? Richie sensed her hesitation and groaned out of frustration.

“I’m not ready to let you go. I don’t think I can. It’s not like I asked for it to happen, but it did. Now what I am asking is for you to come with me. Come be with me, Natalie. Everything will be right here waiting for you if you want to come back.”

He was offering her solid gold. At first glance, anyone would be foolish to turn it down.

“Rich, you aren’t thinking straight. You haven’t thought this through.”
“What’s there to think about? You come live with me until we see where this goes. If it turns out well, hell, that’s great. Excellent. If not, then fine. I’ll fly you back here the first day you ask me.”

Natalie’s eyes swam with tears as she brought a soft hand to his face. “I love you, Richie Sambora,” she whispered sadly, dropping her hand from his face. Richie stared at her in wonder, not believing what she was doing. “But we both know this isn’t a good idea.”

Richie jumped from his place on the couch and paced the room, running frantic fingers through his hair. She kept her spot on the couch, her eyes fixed on her feet as though she’d only just seen them that day.

“Fuck,” he growled out, “You don’t get it. I love you. I love you, Natalie Dawn Kendrick. I do.” His tone of voice and his confession brought Natalie to her feet.
“Listen,” she said loudly to get his attention. She brought both palms to his cheeks this time and spoke with determination. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I didn’t know you sooner. Before everyone else knew your name. Before cameras followed you around. Before you had your heart broken. I’m sorry I can’t go with you to Los Angeles. I’m sorry you don’t like it. I’m sorry. I love you. I mean it. I don’t love Richie Sambora, the guitarist and songwriter. I love Richie Sambora, the man who taught me how to love again. And I’ll never forget him, not as long as I live. And I’m sorry you’re angry with me; I’m sorry you don’t understand. All you have to understand is that that you’ll always have a piece of my heart.”
“I don’t want a piece of your heart,” Richie’s voice was rough and desperate, “I want it all. Every bit of it.”
“We’re damaged goods, Richie, you and me. It isn’t all there anymore. But if it were, you’d be taking it with you on that plane.”

The calm expression she wore pained Richie – both because it seemed so easy for her and because he knew she was only putting on an act for him. He was finally calming down and swore under his breath a few times before he pulled her into another hug. It had been on a whim that he decided she should go back to California with him. It’d been stupid to think he could just uproot her and whisk her away to the other side of the nation. But that didn't stop him from still wishing he could.

“I’m gonna see you again,” he said firmly as he let her go.
She smiled and placed one finger on his chin. “One day,” she whispered.

Fin.


Note: Stay tuned for my Jon fic. It's nearly done, and (in my opinion) written better than this one.