⇾ 𝐈𝐓'𝐒 𝐎𝐍𝐋𝐘 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 | 𝐉𝐨𝐡𝐧 𝐋𝐞𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐧 𝐈𝐈

Chapter Forty-Two: Made With Love

April 23, 1964

"Well that was chaotic," John said glumly.

The sound of my keys hitting the counter was deafening.

"I thought it was quite nice," I offered.

John smiled. "I know you're lyyying," he taunted.

"Am not," I replied, blushing.

John came across the room to me and put his arms around me. "It's okay," he said. "I'm glad you could come."

I put my arms around him too, relaxing into his chest. "I am too," I said.

"I hope you didn't say anything bad about me," he said tauntingly.

I giggled, looking up and rolling my eyes at him. "I did. I told them you were the absolute worst. I don't know how I was stuck with you. I told them I'd much rather be with Paul."

John chuckled. "I've been exposed."

We fell into a comfortable silence, taking in one another's breathing like a drug. I closed my eyes when I realized how heavy my eyelids had become so suddenly, taking in his scent around me. John swayed me from left to right slightly, resting his chin on the top of my head.

The party that was meant to end at one had gone on until three when John decided to stick around for autographs. It was well past four now and the people working on the house had left. They'd finished the patio a few days ago. It looked amazing. Now they were onto the pool. When that was completed, the house would finally be done for good.

"You look so beautiful tonight, Donna," John said dopily after a moment.

"And you look so handsome," I quipped in response, pulling away to smile at him. He grinned back, leaning down to place a meaningful kiss on my lips.

"You know what I think?" he asked as he pulled away.

"What do you think?" I asked, moving my arms so that they were resting around his neck.

"I think tonight calls for another picnic under the staaars," he said with a wide smile.

"I don't know," I said teasingly. "I'm pretty full from earlier."

"Hmmm," he said. "Then how about we have a desert picnic?" he asked.

I pretended to think over the idea even though I'd already made the decision. He looked at me expectantly. "Of course," I said finally.

"What shall we have to eat?" he asked, his hands lingering on my hips and continuing to sway me back and forth.

I bit my lip in thought. "What have we got?"

He kissed me on the forehead and then pulled away. I had the best-irresistible urge to chase after him as he went towards the kitchen. He searched around, studying what all we had.

"What can we make with what we have?" he asked.

I went over and joined him, mulling over all the recipes I knew.

"We could just make some cookies," I said, remembering a recipe Queenie had taught me last year at Christmas. "I've even got chocolate chips!"

His eyes lit up. "That sounds like a terrific idea."

"Would you like to assist me, kind sir?" I asked teasingly.

"Oh, with pleasure," said John, stripping off his suit jacket, throwing it over the back of a chair, and coming to join me.

I pulled a bag of flour out of the cabinet and told him to get some butter out of the fridge. 

"We've got to soften it," I said to him, gesturing to the stick of butter.

"And how exactly do we do that?" he asked curiously.

I pulled a pan out of the cabinet and sat it on the stove. "It's certainly not the best way," I explained. "But it'll have to do."

He nodded, then held up a finger as I dropped the butter into the pan and turned the stove on. "This calls for some music!" he said, scurrying off towards the turntable and speakers we had set up in the living room. "What do you fancy hearing?" he asked.

I shrugged. "Surprise me," I responded, swirling the butter around in the pan impatiently. When I was satisfied with the consistency, John had successfully put on an Everly Brothers album—A Date With The Everly Brothers.

"Good surprise?" he asked.

I smiled at him. "It certainly is," I responded.

"Very good, that is," he said, watching me carefully as I dropped the butter into a mixing bowl.

"Pass me the flour?" I asked him.

He did, but not before he'd pressed a pinch of it on my nose. I frowned at him as I measured it out and dumped it in. He laughed like a little child.

I added in the rest of the ingredients with the help of John. He ended the dish, putting in a heap of chocolate chips.

When I'd turned around, John took a pinch of the dough and popped it into his mouth.

"It's good," he said amusedly.

"John!" I said, laughing.

We pressed the cookies out on a tray and spilled them into the oven.

"Now we wait," he said as we fell onto the couch.

I scooted closer to him, forcing myself into his arms. He enveloped me in his embrace.

"Everything alright, my love?"

"Yes," I replied. "I just love you."

"I love you too," he said in response. "So bloody much."

~~~

"They're done?" John jumped around in a circle happily when I turned around. I laughed, sitting the cookies onto the stove to cool.

He came up behind me and wrapped his arms around me, lifting me off the ground and burying his head into my shoulder. I yelped, not expecting the action.

He sat me back down after a moment and we began to scoop our cookies onto a plate.

"These smell delicious," John commented, nudging me lightly.

"Made with love," I quipped. "How bad could they really be?"

He smiled warmly, then left my side to retrieve a blanket that was thrown lazily over the back of the couch from our uncomfortable slumber the previous night.

We retreated outside then, armed with our blanket and cookies. We quickly got past the deck and the work zone that was our pool and into the grass. John spread the blanket out neatly and plopped down, patting the ground next to him, telling me to join him.

The sun was just tipping down towards the horizon, the sky behind us just starting to darken. John took a treat off of the plate and motioned for me to do the same, turning so that he was facing me directly. I took one off the plate and then looked at him quizzically.

"Cheers," he said jokingly, touching his cookie lightly to mine and putting it into his mouth.

I followed in suit.

"Mmm," said John, closing his eyes sarcastically in pleasure. "We should open a bakery," he mused.

I rolled my eyes. "Sure. And we'll only sell these cookies."

"Yes," he said. "We'll be the best in town." He leaned over and kissed me. "Chocolatey," he commented teasingly.