Soaring (27 page)

I moved to the window and leaned a shoulder against it, dropping the side of my head to the glass, eyes out to the dark sea, ignoring his comment about me being stubborn and irascible, because we both knew I was so there was no use discussing it.

“He told me I’m…
attractive
,” I whispered.

He understood that and I knew it by the tender tone of his response. “Can’t call that one, MeeMee. Maybe denial. But this guy’s actions aren’t speaking louder than words. They’re shouting. He likes you.”

I closed my eyes. “I’m a whackjob.”

“What?”

I opened my eyes. “What happens when he finds out how I lost it with Martine and Conrad? How I lost my kids? If he really likes me and something happens between us, he’ll eventually find out.”

“That you loved someone, lost them and acted out?” Lawr asked. “MeeMee, I know Mom and Dad wanted us both to be perfectly programmed automatons, but you’re human. Give yourself a break. This guy sounds like a good dad. He sounds like he’s responsible. He sounds like his ex-wife put him through the wringer and he made it to the other side while guiding his kids there. He sounds like he knows practically nothing about your situation and has a better lock on it than you do. Give him a break too. Life is life and it’s happened to this guy just like it’s happened to you. He’s going to get it. But I’ll tell you this, if he learns that about you and runs a mile, that says more about him than it does about you.”

“I wish you were closer,” I blurted, and I really did.

I loved my brother, my kids loved their uncle, he was the only real family I had (outside my kids), and I wanted to be in a position to see him happy and do something about it.

This would mean me conniving to break him up with the witch he called a wife but I wasn’t above that, absolutely not.

I’d proved I’d do anything in the name of love.

In fact, I’d wanted to fix him up with Robin for a long time. When she wasn’t being scary and wreaking vengeance, she was sweet, funny, and above all, loyal. And whenever Robin and Lawrie were together, he was always being droll and hilarious, this aimed often at Robin, and she was always laughing and being suggestive, and this was aimed at Lawr but mostly it was aimed at the witch because Robin hated Lawrie’s wife just as much as me.

Hmm.

“I’ll come out and visit,” Lawr told me.

“Thanksgiving,” I said instantly.

“I’ll think about it.”

“Leave the witch, bring the boys,” I said with no hesitancy.

I was straight with Lawr, Lawr was straight with me. He knew I didn’t like her. He also knew (since he told me) that their marriage was over and he was holding it together, supposedly for the boys.

But I suspected, after telling my father to shove his billion dollar company up his ass and going into the law (a profession Lawr had always been fascinated with), he’d exhausted his rebellion, so divorce was out of the question.

“I’ll think about that too.”

I blinked.

Lawr had never considered something like that.

“Really?” I asked.

“Maybe experiencing my little sister fighting for happy is teaching me something.”

Oh God.

That would be
wonderful
.

“I won’t jump on that, push it and do it while flipping cartwheels,” I promised.

“Good, because you’re on the phone with me and if you did that, you’d have to do it one-handed and you might break your neck, which would mean a date with this guy would be postponed indefinitely.”

A date with Mickey.

More shivers.

“Perhaps Robin is free for Thanksgiving,” I mused.

“Christ, what’d you say about pushing?” Lawr asked.

“I’ll stop talking,” I offered.

“And I need to get back to working. Your big brother sort you out?”

I grinned even though he didn’t, not entirely. I was still anxious and a bit confused.

But I was less of both.

“Yes, sweets,” I replied.

“Then I’ll let you go, MeeMee.”

“Okay, Lawrie. Talk to you later.”

“Anytime, sweetheart. Take care.”

“You too.”

We hung up and I rested my phone against my chin and stared out to sea.

Then I took it from my chin, activated it and saw the time.

I still had hours to wait before Mickey would come to me.

But it was after eight and thus not too late, so I opened up my texts and sent a group message to my kids.

Your Uncle Lawrie is thinking about bringing your cousins out for Thanksgiving. If you have time, text him or call him and tell him you’d like to see him. Love you, honeys.

I sent it and pushed away from the window, wondering if I should change before Mickey got there, when the doorbell rang.

I looked that way, saw the motion sensor outdoor light had been activated and Mickey’s body was framed in the stained glass window.

What on earth?

It wasn’t even nine o’clock. They couldn’t have ordered and eaten and gotten home in that time.

I hurried to the door as my phone in my hand sounded.

Startled, I looked down and saw a short text from Auden.

On it.

Oh my God!

I was grinning and still hurrying to the door when my phone sounded again.

I was at the door, multi-tasking by unlocking and reading a text from Olympia.

Me too.

I didn’t know if that was for Lawr or me or both.

I just knew it was more progress.

This made me happy.

And as I opened the door, I hoped by all that was holy what lay behind it would make me happy too.

I looked up to Mickey’s face, caught his expression and froze, the happiness leaking right out of me.

He said nothing, just moved inside in a way I was forced to move back. Once he got in, he stopped and so did I.

He closed the door and turned back to me.

“Hey,” he said softly.

“Hey, Mickey,” I replied in the same tone.

“Gotta get back to my kids,” he told me.

But, he’d just arrived.

“I—”

“Rhiannon didn’t show.”

I stared in shock.

His ex was supposed to be at dinner?

This knowledge forced a variety of thoughts to tumble through my head, including the fact he’d kissed me at the restaurant and one of his options after our kiss had included joining them—joining them for a dinner that would be consumed with his kids
and
ex-wife.

I also thought of something I hadn’t noticed. That they were at a four-top and they’d had their menus when Bradley and I arrived.

They’d also had them when we’d left.

But the priority thought that pushed all others aside was that Cillian’s mother didn’t come to his birthday dinner.

“Oh no,” I breathed, getting closer and lifting a hand to place it on his chest. “She was coming?”

“We have an agreement,” he said shortly, looking strange, speaking strange, like he was controlling something but only barely. “So the kids wouldn’t feel all the loss her bullshit could make them feel, we’d do what we could to give them their family on days that were special. Not goin’ all out, shit like her sleepin’ over Christmas Eve, which could give them ideas. But at the very least birthday dinners, Christmas dinner, Thanksgiving, we’d have them together. If one of us found someone, that’d be part of the deal and whoever that was would have to get that. We’ve been divorced a year and a half, separated a year more than that, and this has worked. She’s never bailed on our kids.”

“So,” I started cautiously, “did she call? Explain—”

“Oh yeah, the bitch called,” Mickey interrupted me to growl viciously.

His tone frightened me but I forced myself to stay in his space and keep my hand light on his chest, even though he wasn’t touching me and he was holding himself in that strange way he’d been speaking.

“That doesn’t sound good,” I noted quietly.

“It wasn’t,” he confirmed. “You haven’t seen it, but when she gets Cill, she fucks ’im up. He gets wound up, acts out, comes to me. Takes a day or two, but I give him what he needs, he settles in. He goes to her for her week, she unravels that, so when I get him back, he’s gone again. Vicious cycle. So tonight, the longer it took for her to show, he knew,
they
knew.”

“They knew what?” I asked carefully when he said no more.

“That she goes on benders.”

I swallowed a gasp as Mickey kept talking.

“When we were together, I covered her ass. Told myself the kids didn’t get it. That was a lie. They see everything. Worse, they feel it. Didn’t happen a lot but it happened too fuckin’ much for me. After the one I decided would be her last, she came home, I had her bags packed. Told her to kick the booze or get the fuck out. She told me she didn’t have a problem even though she was so hungover, she looked about eighty. I told her if she didn’t get her disappearing from our family home without warning for three days so she could get hammered was a problem, she needed to get her shit and get out. Then she grabbed her shit and walked right out.”

I got closer and whispered, “Mickey.”

“After I got shot of her, she pulled it together, never did it when she had the kids. Never left our kids to fend for themselves. Never missed a special meal. But we were at the restaurant twenty minutes before you got there, Amy, she was supposed to meet us there, and she hadn’t showed. Fifteen minutes after you left, after the fourth text I couldn’t hide sending the bitch to find out where the fuck she was, Cill started losing it. Then he lost it and threw a tantrum. Took him outside to calm him down, got him to do that, but he wanted to leave. We left, went to get fuckin’
burgers
for my boy’s
birthday
, ’cause that was all he was up for. Got home, started to do cake and presents, the bitch called. She called Ash’s phone. Cill knew it was her, grabbed it before my girl could save him that shit, and he got a birthday call from a mother who was totally shitfaced.”

I felt tears fill my eyes.

Oh, Cillian.

“Honey,” I whispered, getting even closer, my hand now pressing.

“He was good with her, my boy’s good with his mom, but he got off the phone, went wild. Threw the cake Ash made for him against the wall and slammed into his room. We had words, he’s still not calmed down, but I’m givin’ him time. I gotta get back to him because I gotta shape him up and sort out Rhiannon’s mess. Again.”

“Okay, then go,” I invited.

“We gotta talk.”

That didn’t sound promising.

But right then, not one thing was about me.

“I’m not going anywhere,” I told him.

“Best kiss I ever had,” he told me.

I drew in a sharp breath, those five words thrilling down my throat, to my belly, straight to the tips of my toes.

“Want more,” he went on. “You with me?”

I nodded and just stopped myself from doing it humiliatingly enthusiastically.

“Good,” he stated curtly. “We talked. I sort out my boy, we’ll talk more.”

“Okay, Mickey.”

He bent abruptly and touched his mouth to mine.

His lips were firm at the same time soft and he wore no cologne, but he smelled heavenly.

He lifted his head but he did it also lifting his hand, and finally, he touched me.

He did this cupping my jaw and sweeping his thumb along my cheek.

He said nothing, just touched me sweetly and stared into my eyes.

I said nothing back, just stood close and let him.

Then he said, “Call you, baby.”

“Okay, Mickey,” I repeated.

His lips tipped up in a preoccupied grin that was still amazing before he let me go, turned to the door and disappeared through it.

Chapter Twelve

Everything I’d Ever Need

When I got home from Dove House the next day, I went back out and grabbed my mail.

I took it back in and went through it on the kitchen counter.

No wish list from Cillian.

I turned my head toward the front of my house like I could see through it and feel what was happening at the Donovans.

My phone in my purse rang and I quickly dug it out, hoping it was Mickey.

It wasn’t.

It was Boston Stone.

I let it go to voicemail and made a decision I wasn’t sure was mine to make. I was pretty sure Mickey and I were starting something and because of that, I wasn’t sure what I intended to do was the right thing.

Still, I shoved my now-silent phone into the back pocket of my jeans and went to Mickey’s house.

It seemed quiet and standing at the front door I reconsidered ringing the bell.

Then my hand decided for me, lifted and rang the bell.

God, I hoped I was doing the right thing.

The door was opened by Aisling.

“Hey, blossom,” I greeted.

She tipped her head to the side and greeted back quietly, “Hey, Amy.”

“You doing okay?” I asked.

“I’m good,” she answered too quickly.

Lying.

I let that go and just nodded, asking, “Your dad home?”

She shook her head and replied, “No, he’s working.”

“Your brother home?” I went on.

Her answer to that was to step out of the door.

I took this as my invitation to walk in, so I did.

She shut the door behind me and mumbled, “He’s in the family room.”

“Okay, sweets,” I mumbled back and moved that way.

I found Cillian lounged on the couch, eyes to the TV, the evidence of an unhealthy feeding frenzy littered around him, including a melting tub of ice cream on the coffee table that was not on a magazine or a mat or anything.

The mother inside me screamed but my mouth didn’t.

“Hey, kiddo,” I greeted, going to the side of the sectional and shifting a hip to rest on the back so I could catch his eyes.

He didn’t give them to me.

“Hey,” he muttered, not taking his gaze from the TV.

“I came home, checked my mail, didn’t get a wish list,” I remarked.

He didn’t say anything.

I was used to that, just not from Cillian.

“Got an afternoon free to go shopping,” I tried again.