Once he reined himself in JC found life with Francesca one of the more sane and satisfying periods of his life. He bought a keyboard he left at her place. He had an entire wardrobe in Chicago. A car was in her underground garage. Hell, he’d practically lived in Chicago when he wasn’t in the studio or making a necessary appearance. Along with his deepening relationship with his gypsy, he was forming a closer bond with his parents. He saw them more than he ever had since joining NSYNC.
“I need to find a place here,” he announced one night as he and Francesca prepared for bed.
Francesca was startled by the announcement. It smacked of permanence. “Why?”
“Why?” He came up behind her and slid his arms around her, pulling her back against him. “Because of us.”
“Can a warm coast guy survive in Chicago winter?”
Burying his face against her neck, he murmured. “I can adjust. I’ve got you to keep me warm.”
“But, JC...”
“Honey, are you trying to say you don’t want me here?”
Twisting her head around to meet his eyes, she replied. “No! I am just trying to point out some things you may not have considered.”
A small smile lit his face. “I looked at it from all angles. Bottom line, I can be more mobile than you.”
“Okay. What do you require in a place?”
“You.”
Turning in his arms, she put her arms around his neck. “That you have. What else?”
“Some place close would be great. A studio would probably be asking to much...”
“How much room do you need?”
JC shrugged. It was just going to be a temporary place until they married as far as he was concerned. “Bedroom. Kitchen. Living room. I don’t need a lot.”
“No bathroom?” she teased.
“One like yours would be great.”
“I’m almost afraid to tell you this...”
“What?”
“The guy below me is a musician... He’s moving to LA...”
“And?”
“I know I designed a small studio to his specs. It takes up a third of the loft... What I know about music could fit on the head of a pin...”
“When is it available and when can I see it?”
“He wants to sell like right now — and I can call him in the morning.”
“Fantastic!”
“I thought I would have trouble finding a buyer. Music studios aren’t in huge demand...”
This so worked. Maybe instead of moving after they got married they could find a way to combine the two spaces. To JC’s way of thinking this was a sign they were meant to be forever. Kismet. Fate. The hand of God. Whatever you named it, he and Francesca were destined to be together.
“Gypsy, can I ask you something and you not freak on me?” he asked seriously.
“I suppose that depends on what it is.”
“When am I gonna meet your family? You know I’m committed to this relationship. Don’t they suspect someone serious in your life?”
“That’s two questions,” she reminded him gently.
“Yeah, well, they go together.”
“To the latter question: yes, they know someone is in my life and that I am in love. They’ve inquired about you.”
“Whether you realize it or not, I sorta feel like you’re hiding me. Justine is the only one of your circle I’ve met. I mean you met my folks within twenty-four hours of our meeting each other.”
“That was your idea, not mine. I don’t tend to let lovers have access to my family.”
“I’m more than just a lover, Francesca, and you damn well know it,” he grumbled.
Then she said something shocking and wonderful. “Are you asking me to propose?”
“I guess I am asking you to marry me.”
“You guess?” She wanted to giggle. She had never seen a man hinting so large.
“Francesca, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?” JC questioned formally.
The arms around his neck tightened to bring his head down. When their lips nearly touched, she gave him a simple one-syllable answer. “Yes,” she said softly, clearly before kissing him.
Yes! He sweated her answer for weeks and she merely said ‘yes’. “I love you, babe. We’ll be so fucking happy.”
“I’ll settle for fucking and deliriously happy,” she teased about his inappropriate use of his seemingly favorite word.
“Yeah, that too.”
“Still want to see that loft?”
“Yeah. I can use the studio space — maybe expand on it. I mean I can even maybe get one of Chicago’s up and coming architect to help me. I mean her office is right here...”
“I think that can be arranged.”
“Is there a way we can maybe join the two later on?”
“You mean like cut a hole for staircase?”
“Would that work?”
“I’m sure it’s doable.”
The loft was perfect for JC. A compact kitchen with only the bare essentials. Obviously the musician cooked as much as JC did — which meant hardly at all. An open floor plan with a good-sized bedroom with the same view as Francesca’s. A modest bathroom. The clincher was the studio. It was kick-ass. Very little needed to be added.
The seller was delighted to have such an immediate buyer without dismantling the studio. Within hours the deal was closed.
“Now I just need my architect fiancée to help me buy stuff.” JC announced as he ate his lunch at Francesca’s desk. Since she was taking a working lunch he’d brought in deli sandwiches for them.
“You can’t pick out furnishing on your own?” she asked, amused at his dependency.
“I want the two lofts to be able to flow into each other.” He sighed, “And I’ve been told I’m probably the world’s worse decorator.”
“I still can’t believe you bought a third home.”
“Eventually I’ll have to unload one of them.”
“The loft?”
“That is so not happening unless you decide you want to move to the suburbs.”
“I’ve never been a suburbs kind of girl.”
“Then we need to combine the two spaces later on.”
“I don’t have a lot of time till around Christmas.”
”I’m in no big hurry as long as you aren’t eager to be rid of me.”
Francesca gave him a naughty wink. “You’re a good distraction from work, so I’ll keep you around a while longer.”
Chuckling, he said, “Guess I gotta get a ring on your finger sooner than later then.”
“I’d like one before I introduce you to my family.”
He nodded. “Then that’s my task for this afternoon. Give me your ring size and what you’d like.”
Her eyes went wide. “Really?”
“Really. I am planning on marrying you for real. I didn’t ask lightly.”
“I didn’t think you had...”
He reached across the desk to stroke her cheek. “Whatever my gypsy girl wants, she can have,” he said quietly.
Francesca’s smile was a bit tremulous. “I already have what I want — I have you.”
“You so have me,” JC assured her.
“What are your plans for the week between Christmas and New Years?” Francesca asked JC as they looked at sofas for his new Chicago loft.
Though she had asked in a casual, off-handed manner, he could tell she had something planned. No wild parties in Las Vegas or Miami this year, he decided. “Christmas here with you and the folks, then I have no real plans.”
“Want to attend a New Year’s Eve wedding with me?”
“Sure. Whose getting married?”
“My friend Gaëlle. I’m her maid of honor.”
“You’ll be beautiful.”
“I think you’re a wee bit prejudice.” She hugged his waist affectionately.
“Guilty as charged.” He pointed to a modern sofa/love seat ensemble of a warm brown canvas-like fabric. “How about that?”
“Very practical.” She was actually impressed since he claimed to be terrible at such things.
Reading her mind easily, he remarked, “Maybe your good taste is rubbing off on me.”
“Or maybe you are just paying attention.”
“Well, it seems prudent when Chicago’s premier renovation architect is learning me the ropes.”
“Flatterer.”
JC grabbed her hand to tug her close. “It’s all true, Francesca. I read the paper.” In Chicago he was less likely to be known as JC Chasez from NSYNC and more likely to be Francesca Carlisle’s fiancé. It was weird in a good sort of way. He had only been recognized a handful of times since becoming a regular in Chicago. He had an anonymity there he hadn’t had in years. It gave him the freedom to explore the city.
“So...” Francesca glanced down at her new, sparkling engagement ring. “Ready to meet the rest of the Carlisles?”
The idea of meeting the other two-thirds of the ‘driving force behind Chicago’s downtown revival’ was daunting to say the least. Her father was an investment banker with a ‘Midas touch’. Her oldest brother Jeffery was a successful real estate broker. They knew how to make money.
The others in the family were into philanthropy. Her mother was known to be involved in ‘worthy’ causes. Her twin brother Edward was a plastic surgeon who did gratis pediatric surgeries for children with birth defects. JC hadn’t even known she had a twin.
Then there was the rebel baby of the family Johnny. He had foregone the sensible route and was a Chicago police detective — a career that gave his mother fits.
“JC?” She questioned his silence.
“As I’ll ever be.” Not only was he meeting her family, he was going to church with Francesca followed by traditional family Sunday brunch.
“Darling, they are just regular people.”
“‘Just’ my ass. They’re your family. I need them to like me.”
She smiled up at him. “Well, I like you — a lot.”