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“Don’t you dare walk away from me!”
Sansa cringes at the harsh command but is she really surprised? She’s been ridiculing him for nearly fifteen minutes straight, unconcerned with the presence of an outsider. Who talks to their sweetheart this way? Are they really sweethearts? They seem more like enemies begrudgingly meeting for peace talks. Robb had said she’d done the proposing which is fine but why has Jon agreed to marry her?
She doesn’t want to watch this but it’s hard to avoid considering the position she’s in, on her knees at the foot of Bridezilla. Sansa’s a seamstress and she’d agreed to make the dress alterations.
Unfortunately, she’s seen this before in her line of work. Some people really get a little too wrapped up in wedding hysteria and less desirable facets of their personality come out. She had hoped Robb’s old friend might’ve chosen better for himself but Sansa will admit she’s made some poor choices herself in the past.
At least, I never got close to walking down the aisle with Harry or Joffrey though.
She’s not so sure Jon will make it to the sept in six weeks either based on the way his jaw’s been clenched throughout this visit.
She has a good feel for these things by now. She’d not liked his fiancée from the moment he’d introduced her and she predicts the marriage won’t last a year even if they make it through the wedding.
She can’t blame him for having had enough of this today. Better to walk out and cool off until she calms down and they can talk like adults maybe. The last time she’d witnessed a tantrum quite like this, Rickon had been three.
He pauses with his back to them, his shoulders slumped. She wishes he’d walk on through the door but knows he may very well bite his lip and turn around.
She won’t make you happy in the long run. I wouldn’t mind trying though.
Sansa bites at her own lip for that. She has no right to think such things. He’s engaged and she’s just the woman altering the wedding gown. Well, she’s more than that. He’s Robb’s old friend but maybe he’s her friend, too. He’s been coming around the flat a lot since they reconnected a couple of months ago. Still, he’s engaged. So what if he’s handsome and friendly and makes her smile like no other guy has in a long while?
“Jon Snow,” his bride-to-be says in a threatening tone, “if you walk out that door, we are through. Do you hear me?”
He turns and Sansa tries to mask her sigh, certain he’s giving in. But his eyes aren’t on the woman in yards of ivory lace. They’re on her.
“I’m sorry for you having to witness this, Sansa, and I’ll compensate you for your work.” His eyes flicker up to the woman he was planning to marry with a cold look. “I hear you and we’re through. I’m definitely done with this farce of a relationship. You can keep the ring if you like but I won’t be marrying you.” He then turns around and walks out the door.
Stunned, Sansa’s face flushes with embarrassment on behalf of them both but a small part of that flush might be a wicked little jolt of…something. She’s probably horrible for feeling pleased by this and by the fact that he spoke to her first.
Several seconds pass before Bridezilla gasps with shock. Apparently, it took that long for it to sink in that he actually left and what his words mean.
“I’ll just, um…” Furious. There’s no other word for the glare she receives and Sansa nearly recoils in fear. “I’ll give you the room,” Sansa murmurs before standing.
But before she can scurry to her sewing room in the back and hope that Jon Snow’s fiancée ex-fiancée will be gone when she returns (even if she’s still wearing a wedding dress with dozens of pins in the hem), Bridezilla says, “He never shuts up about you.”
“I…what?”
She says nothing else, just shoves her way past Sansa and leaves without another word and Sansa’s left there to agonize over those words all afternoon…but not indefinitely.
“I knew it was a mistake,” Jon tells her later right before closing time when he comes back with his checkbook and a lemon cake for her from her favorite bakery.
“Then, why were you doing it?” Sansa asks, failing to completely contain her moan as she takes her first bite after waving off his money. “Gods, this is good.”
He grins, his dark eyes flashing at that moan, damn him. Then, he considers his answer to her question. “I don’t know. Clearly, I know nothing just like she always tells me.”
“That’s not true. You know stuff, Jon.”
“Thanks. I guess we’d been together for a good while and, when she asked me to get married, I thought maybe that would make things better again…more like they were at the start.”
“Things haven’t been good for a while then?”
“No, it’s been a bad six months. Maybe longer. I’d been on the verge of suggesting a break right before she popped the question but hesitated because…” He scrubs at his beard.
“Because?”
“I feel like a coward but she gets so angry and hateful.”
“Yikes. I had a boyfriend like that once.” His eyes narrow dangerously, nearly making her laugh. “Over a long time ago but I’m sorry for you. It can be difficult walking away. I don’t think you’re a coward. Soon or late, at least you managed to break it off at last.”
“Yeah. Anyway, thanks for listening to me.” He starts to rise from where he’s been sitting beside her in the quiet shop but then pauses and slowly takes her hand. “Sansa, I just want you to know that seeing you again after all these years and hanging out together has been, um…special to me.”
‘He never shuts up about you.’ She swallows hard. “Me, too.” I never shut up about you either. Hadn’t Jeyne teased her about that the other day?
He gives her a sheepish grin, releasing her hand. “I’d better go.”
She nods but then can’t help but ask, “Did you have some place to be tonight?”
“Not really. I mean, I suppose I’d better find out how much of my stuff has been thrown out on the sidewalk.”
“Oof. Do you need a place to stay?”
What is she doing? He just broke up with his fiancée. He’ll need time and inviting him to stay is too forward perhaps. He’s a friend. I wouldn’t want him alone in some motel or whatever tonight.
“Thanks but I didn’t give up my place. I guess that might’ve been my subconscious wanting to keep a way out.”
Probably so. She doesn’t say it. “Well, if you’re hungry and want to watch me eat something other than lemon cake, you could come by for dinner.” His eyes widen and she panics. “I mean, anytime. Not tonight…unless you…whenever. Sometime soon maybe.” Gods, she’s feeling like an idiot.
But he doesn’t look at her like she’s an idiot. He looks pleased. “I may take you up on that sometime soon.”
And, he does.
Dinner together a week later and then the following week. It becomes a weekly habit, dinner with Jon Snow. Jeyne’s still teasing her but she says they’re just friends. He still needs time and they might need time to be more.
Maybe not too long though.
Before long, he’s over more often than he’s not and maybe things are changing between them. The rediscovered friendship and the tenuous other thing between them is blossoming and Sansa couldn’t be happier.
And one night, two months after he would’ve been a married man, Jon shows up at her flat with a lemon cake and a bottle of wine and she knows tonight would be a good night to cross that boundary from friendship to more.
He’d offered to clean up the kitchen after dinner so she’d slipped off to her room, the wine giving her a boost of courage. There’s no mistaking the fire in his eyes lately when they’re alone but he’s held back from making a move. Sansa thinks he needs a little push.
She emerges from the bedroom wearing something considerably slinkier than the flannel pajama bottoms and comfy tees she usually wears when they settle on her couch to watch movies on nights like this.
“Sansa…”
His eyes are round and his mouth keeps moving but no other words come out. He’s looking her up and down. He gulps and his mouth starts moving again with no words. It’s pretty damn cute…until he turns away towards the door.
“Jon?” Her chin starts to tremble. Has she misread everything so badly? Is he not interested in the things she’s interested in? Is he going to leave her standing here when she’s never said one hateful thing to him?
Don’t you dare walk away from me.
She almost sobs those words until he shoots a mischievous grin over his shoulder and her lips are immediately quirking into an answering one, all her insecurities flying away like sparks from a bonfire.
That mischievous grin becomes a smoldering look when he’s standing half way between her kitchen and the hallway. “I’m just going to make sure your front door’s locked, sweetheart.”
“My front door?”
“Yeah.” His voice drops into a husky tone smooth as fine liquor and just as heady. “Because once I kiss you, I don’t plan on stopping and I promise you’ll have a very hard time getting rid of me.”
She has no desire to ever get rid of him.