Don't Stop Believin'

[Chapter 15]

[Alicia's POV]

I was at a dress store when I got a random call from Jon. "Hello?"

"Alicia. Baby. Come back to Chicago. I was a fool for leaving you. I love you and I believe that you didn't cheat on me on purpose. Please baby. I miss you. I want to see our son again. I want us to be together."

I choked up. "Miss you too, Jon Jon."

I could imagine the smile on his face. "Where are you going to be, baby? I'm getting on a plane right now."

"At secret ice rink."

"I'll be there in a couple hours. I'll call you when I land."

"Bye, Jon."

"Bye, Angel."

I hung up. The tears were streaming down my face rapidly. I was confused and hurt. I missed Jon. I love him. The only issue is that the ring on my finger says that I'm marrying Henrik Zetterberg.

I cleared my mind and just focused on buying a dress. I picked up the perfect one. It was a gorgeous white jeweled dress. I tried it on and almost fainted. It looked gorgeous on me. When I changed back, I gave it to the cashier with my debit card. 

The cashier had a look like she just sucked on a lemon. "Are you sure you can pay for this with a debit card?"

I nodded. "Oui. Is $1,400, Oui?" (Oui means yes.)

"This dress is $1,450." She smirked, looking proud. She seemed to think I was poor or something.

"Oh? Can have card back?" 

Her smirk grew as she handed me my card. "Can't afford it?" 

I gave Christian, who was in his stroller, a bottle. I put the card back in my baby pink Louis Vuitton wallet, pulled out $1,450 cash, and handed it to the cashier. "I can. Have other form payment."

Needless to say, her jaw dropped as she counted the 14 hundreds and 1 fifty. I smirked at her as she put my gorgeous dress in one of the garment bags. "Have a nice day, ma'am."

"Oui. Merci." (yes. Thank you.) With that, Christian and I walked to the car. We drove to a cute little boutique and I picked up a pair of cute stilettos. After, I went to Fredrick's of Hollywood. I got the call from Jonny as soon as I walked in.

"Baby. I just landed. Are you at the rink yet?"

I started looking through the garters. "No. At Frederick. Pick lingerie and garter."

He fox whistled. "Is that lingerie for me to see?"

I smirked. "Maybe."

"Are you going to be there for a while?"

"Oui."

"I'll meet you there."

"Oui."

"Bye, love."

"Au revoir." (Goodbye.)

I looked through garters until I found the perfect one. I then proceeded to look through the underwear and pick out a lot of it. After, I moved onto the lingerie and picked out a lot. As soon as the cashier gave me my bags of purchased merchandise, Jon walked in.

Jon ran to me and scooped me up. "I missed you so much, baby."

I hugged him tight. "I missed you too."

Jon set me down and picked up Christian. "Hey, buddy. Daddy missed you too. Daddy's gonna be here for you now. I'm gonna be a better daddy."

I smiled as I saw the grin on Christian's face. He was smiling at his dad. Maybe this will be a good idea.

"Come on, baby. Let's go." Jon took my hand and walked me to my car. "I took a taxi. Let's just go to your house and pack up your things. We'll fly it all to my house tonight. I'll call the guys to come help."

I nodded. The guilt was starting to set in. I couldn't do this to Hank, but I loved Jon. I loved Jon more. Jon and I have a child. I'm so fucking confused. 

Jon drove us to my place. I stared out the window the whole time. When we got there, Jon carried Christian in the house. I took Christian from Jon and walked up to my room. As soon as I got up there I heard Henrik SCREAMING at Jon. 

"STAY AWAY FROM FIANCÉE!" Henrik was pissed.

"Fuck you! Were keeping our family together! She's coming to Chicago with me!"

I heard Hank's fist make contact with Jon's face and Jon cry out in pain. 

"She stay here!"

Jon laughed. "I'll be back, you little Swedish faggot. Next time I'm here, you'll walk in the house and Alicia, Christian, and all their shit will be with me in Chicago." 

I heard the door slam. Jon left. I put Christian to bed, ran to my room, and forced myself to sleep. I was NOT dealing with the wrath of Henrik Zetterberg.