Soaring (65 page)

I held my breath.

“I haven’t had a drink since I met you that Friday,” she announced.

Oh my God.

How fabulous!

“Rhiannon, that’s wonderful,” I told her, wanting to reach out and grab her hand but knowing that wasn’t where we were so I didn’t.

“It’s hard. Seriously hard. The hardest thing I’ve ever done,” she told me.

“I’m sure,” I said quietly.

“But it’s the best thing I ever did, except making beautiful babies.”

I nodded.

She was so right.

“Are you…have you…do the kids know?” I asked.

“Mom isn’t pouring and I figure they noticed it. But officially, not yet,” she answered.

“Mickey?” I asked.

“I don’t want to ask you to keep secrets but I’d like to tell him myself. I intend to do this soon so it isn’t like you have to keep it from him forever. I just wanted some time and to stay on track for a while before I shared.” She took a breath and carried on, “And the important thing right now isn’t me. It’s seeing to Aisling. When things are better with her, I’ll explain the process to the kids.”

I nodded again. Though I thought that her sharing that might help things get better with Ash, it wasn’t my recovery and it wasn’t my place to give my opinion.

And I wasn’t entirely certain why she was telling me and intended to wait to tell those a far sight closer to her. But it was hers to give to who she thought it was right to give. This had to be a process and she didn’t seem to be winging it. Maybe I was step one, a person who was on the edges of her life who, not in a bad way, didn’t really matter. Maybe I was a practice run. The beginning of the rest.

And if that was the case, I had to make it as smooth and positive as possible.

“I’m happy for you. For the kids. For Mickey even,” I said and gave her an encouraging smile. “This is really great, Rhiannon.”

“I want to make sure, to be good for a while, just in case I…I don’t want to get their hopes up.”

That
I understood.

“I get you,” I told her.

“So it isn’t much but my Ash having nice bed stuff to make her smile, it’s something.”

We were full circle and it was quite a journey to take unexpectedly in Bed Bath and Beyond.

But I was honored to be on it.

Even so, I had to note, “You’re right. It’s just…Mickey.”

I said no more but she knew Mickey so she understood me.

“I’ll call him so he knows we’re sticking to his budget and the bed stuff is from me.”

“That’s a good plan.”

“I’ll do that now,” she murmured, bending her head and digging into her purse. She got her phone out and looked to me. “I’ll just wander and do that. When she gets back, you’ll help Aisling get her stuff? Two sets of sheets. It’s no good for laundry day with just one.”

“We’ll take care of it,” I assured her.

She nodded and gave me a small smile before she wandered off, phone to her ear.

I started amassing the stuff Aisling would need, piling it on the bed display. Surprisingly, it took some time before Aisling arrived with another cart.

I looked to her. “Hey, blossom.”

“I’m sorry. I stopped because I saw these.” She lifted up a plastic tray, one of several she had in her cart. “I know it isn’t decorating so I’ll use my own money to buy them, but I thought they’d be good to organize my makeup. You know, to get it off my dresser.”

I smiled at her, wishing I could buy them for her and thinking, next time something like this happened, I’d get a budget from Mickey as to how much he’d let me splurge to spoil his girl. Even if it was twenty dollars, I’d get to have fun and I’d get to give her something.

But bottom line, it was brilliant she was interested in what we were doing and going so far as to consider adding organizing to our project.

“Great idea,” I said. “Those’ll be perfect.”

Her lips tipped up and her eyes wandered. “Where’s Mom?”

“Getting the go-ahead from your dad to spoil you with fabulous bed linens.”

Her eyes shot back to me. “Do you think he’ll mind?”

“Not even a little bit,” I told her. “But, they should be on the same page with this project, don’t you think?”

That settled her in a variety of ways. I knew it from the look in her eyes, the expression on her face and even in her body language.

She liked her mom and dad talking. She wanted them on the same page. She wanted more, to go back in time and have what they had before life tore their family apart.

But she’d take this.

“Yeah,” she agreed.

“Okay, help me load this up,” I said. “And you don’t have euros so we’ll have to go to the pillow section. Your mom walked that way. If she’s not back, we’ll meet up with her there.”

“Cool,” she mumbled.

We loaded up. We got euro pillows. Rhiannon met us in that section with the news Mickey okayed Rhiannon’s contribution. After we made our purchases and were headed to Lowe’s for paint, in the car, I texted Mickey and asked if I could have a budget.

He texted back,
My heiress has gotta spoil my girl. You got fifty bucks.

Which meant I bought a fabulous lamp for her nightstand at Pier 1.

When we got home and the boys helped us cart the massive stash in, Mickey and Cillian teased Aisling about just how much it took to redo a girl’s bedroom. She gave a lot of “shut ups,” but she did this smiling.

Then Mickey gently laid down the law that if Aisling wanted him to corral his buds to help paint her room while she was at her mom’s, the place had to be picked up, packed up (so they could move things easily) and cleaned.

She’d agreed.

Through this, Rhiannon and I sat at the kitchen bar, sipping tea and chatting.

It wasn’t entirely comfortable, it wasn’t uncomfortable.

What it was, was real.

And good.

For the kids.

And for Mickey.

So it worked for me.

* * * * *

I didn’t tell Mickey about Rhiannon’s efforts at recovery. He already sensed she was no longer drinking.

But that was hers to share.

And since we exchanged numbers “just in case,” when I texted her after she left to let her know that was my decision, she’d texted back,
Thank you, Amy. I promise I won’t take too long.

I didn’t know if she even knew my name was Amelia.

But I didn’t mind that Rhiannon called me Amy.

She was a part of the family.

* * * * *

“You wet?”

I was sitting beside the boxing ring with Alyssa and Josie.

The question was from Alyssa.

The answer was a breathy, “Yeah.”

To which I received, “Season delayed this year. Seemed to take an
eternity
.”

It was the Saturday night after my foray shopping to decorate Aisling’s room with Rhiannon.

The day had been a success.

Mickey was right. Rhiannon didn’t want me in her crew. But she did want something healthy between all the adults in her children’s lives and obviously, I was all for that too.

In fact, things as a whole were going swimmingly, no longer just for me, but also for Mickey.

The papers had been filed for Mickey’s company. I’d found a graphic designer who was designing his logo. His dad had wired him the money and Arnold Weaver had drafted the papers they were going to sign for their investment agreement. Someone had requested that Mickey put in a bid for a full roof they wanted on before the weather got too crazy. And Mickey, Bobby and Jimbo were going to start interviewing the firefighters for the salaried position next week.

Last, Mickey and I agreed, then took it to our kids and they agreed, that we would start the blending of families on Thanksgiving.

Mickey had said they had a pact to share those days and it was Rhiannon’s turn to have them to her place for Thanksgiving. But before he asked his kids, he’d told her what we wanted to do and she’d agreed to giving up the meal if she got time with them in the evening.

Something I thought was
very
kind.

So they would be going to Rhiannon’s after dinner to share family time. That meant he and his kids would come over, have dinner, but none of the kids would be forced to spend all day getting used to each other.

And with that, there was cooking and football and Lawr would be there, and he was great with kids. It wouldn’t be going out to dinner, making them converse, the focus being solely on the meet and greet. There’d be tons of distractions.

It was perfect.

As perfect as it was, it scared the heck out of me.

But I did my best to set that aside and turn my attention to glorying in the fact that it was clear my guy was getting more than just flashes of happy.

And I was right then at my first fight of Mickey’s.

No. I was watching Mickey, sweaty and focused, wearing white satin boxing shorts with a green shamrock on the side that really,
really
did not look even the slightest bit foolish being worn by all that was Mickey.

And he was beating the absolute
shit
out of some guy in a boxing ring.

Last, I was doing this thinking I was orgasming.

This was inappropriate. Not only were Alyssa and Josie sitting with me, Cillian, Aisling and Ethan were also with us.

But I still was pretty sure it was happening.

“You got back from Junior really quickly after his win.” I heard Josie, sitting to one side of me, note softly to Alyssa, who was on my other side.

“Went back. Blew him real quick. He’s good until I see how our girl here becomes a fight fanatic,” Alyssa replied, also quietly so the kids sitting beyond Josie couldn’t hear. “Once Mickey kicks ass, I’ll hang around and make sure she doesn’t rush the ring and rip his trunks off. Then we’ll hit the motel that does an hourly rate on the way home and he can rock my world.”

I heard these words.

I didn’t tear my eyes away from the ring.

They only fought three rounds and these seemed to last two seconds of sheer exhilaration and goodness before the referee had to stop the fight because Mickey got a technical knockout.

I burst from my chair, and much like Alyssa did when Junior had won the fight before (except with less foul and suggestive language), I screamed, “
Way to go, baby! You rock!
”

Mickey’s glove held up in the air, still sweaty and fabulous, his eyes dropped to me.

That was when I got an easy grin.

Yes, very much like orgasming.

It was then I realized that having the kids on fight night was not that great of a thing.

And it was then I realized that next Saturday, he wouldn’t have his but I would have mine as Pippa already told me she was having Polly for a sleepover, and maybe another girlfriend. Further Auden had shared he and his buds were going to camp out in front of my big TV to watch football all day after he was done with conditioning.

With all those kids there, kids of two different sexes, they needed chaperoning, so I didn’t think it was a good idea to leave.

So when Mickey had his kids back, I’d have to either finagle his kids doing sleepovers somewhere else, the same with mine, or I’d have to wait for my
real
fight night to come and it might take
weeks
.

This was disappointing.

But it was helped when we went back to the locker rooms and I could give Mickey a lip brush before Cillian took over for his blow by blow with his dad about the fight.

This was cute because Cillian was excited and his blow by blow included much reenactment. This meant he did a lot of fake punching of his dad, who fake punched back, still sweaty but with his gloves off, his hands taped, warm in his boy’s excitement.

Though, in Mickey’s case it wasn’t cute. It was sweet-dad-cute-
hot
.

Alas, we separated in the parking lot. I had brought the kids there but Mickey, not having showered but in workout pants pulled over his boxing trunks and a zip up jacket, was taking them home.

And we were all going home to houses across the street from each other, me alone to my empty house, Mickey with his kids to his.

This was what we did and the whole way I tried to come up with ways to suggest he find sleepovers for his children when he had them again in two weeks.

I was in my nightie, standing by my nightstand, moisturizing, and I still had not come up with how I would suggest this to Mickey when my cell on my nightstand rang.

My pulse zinged when I saw it was Mickey.

I snatched it up, took the call and put it to my ear.

“Hey.” It came out as a breath.

“Door,” he growled.

My entire body zinged. I dropped the phone back to the nightstand without even disconnecting, and sprinted to the door.

I threw it open.

Mickey, still in his track pants and jacket, crowded me. His arm going around me, he backed me in, kicked the door closed and shifted me, backing me toward the dining room table.

“Tell me your kids didn’t decide to spend the night,” he ordered.

I shook my head. “No, baby. It’s just me.”

Then I was up right before I was down, ass to the table then back to it as Mickey leaned into me.

His mouth to mine, his eyes staring into mine through the shadows, he didn’t kiss me.

He just looked into my eyes as his hand yanked up my nightie then dove right in my panties.

My lips parted and my back arched.

His eyes flamed through the dark. “Fuck, you’re wet.”

“Yes,” I whispered.

“Ready?” he asked.

“Yeah, honey.”

He moved away only to tear my panties down my legs and I whimpered.

Then he came back, I felt him working at his pants between my legs and then he was inside me.

I pushed my hands up his jacket to touch him but ended up clawing at him as he fucked me hard and relentlessly, his mouth brushing mine, his eyes to mine, his breaths harsh and assaulting my lips, his eyes blazing.

He slid one hand up my side, my arm, pulling it from around him and wrapping his fingers around my wrist where he pinned it to the table over my head.

I shivered and pressed the insides of my thighs tighter to his sides in order to hold him to me and use him to lift me up so I could get more of him.