Soaring

  I thought it was something else.

  Something that drove both my kids from their father to me.

  Something I was going to have to find a way to figure out.

  For them.

  Not me.

  * * * * *

  “I’m not liking this,” I said two days later, standing in Jake’s office at the gym, watching through the window, Jake and Mickey in the ring sparring.

  “I know,” Josie, standing next to me replied. “Actually, I don’t know. Jake never loses. To anyone. Even Mickey, who’s quite formidable, but still, he’s only second best in the league. Jake was once a professional boxer so you shouldn’t feel any less of Mickey. Jake fought pay-per-view. He was quite something. Thus, I can’t say I know how it feels that Mickey’s losing.”

  I couldn’t even think of Mickey losing. And I didn’t suspect anyone was losing since they were only sparring with a throng of young men from age eleven to eighteen standing around watching.

  The junior boxing league signups and gear handouts. The reason I was there. So I could watch the boys get fitted for the gear that I’d made it so they could have for their season.

  No, I was thinking that I hated the idea that Mickey boxed. I could barely watch my son roll around on a mat struggling to pin his opponent.

  I hated watching Jake punch Mickey even if Mickey was punching back.

  I’d hate it more if they were doing it to win.

  But what I hated most of all was the heretofore unknown knowledge that Mickey was a member of the adult league which, like the junior league, was again starting its season.

  Now, how exactly was Mickey going to do all he did and train to box and actually box?

  “He has two jobs, two kids, a girlfriend and he’s starting his own company,” I stated. “How on earth is he going to find time to train so he doesn’t get his ass kicked?”

  “Jake owns two businesses, has three children and a wife. He does it.”

  I looked to Josie. “One of his businesses is a boxing gym.”

  She looked to me. “Yes, but someone must run it. He can’t train all the time.”

  Even though I didn’t think Jake had it as bad as Mickey, I asked, “Okay, so how does he juggle all that?”

  “He found himself a wife.”

  A thrill shot through me.

  Interrupting this thrill, a cheer came from the gym and Josie and I looked that way.

  Jake was spitting out his mouth guard and Mickey was leaning on the thing at the corner of the ring, his guard already out, and he was using his teeth to pull open the Velcro grips on his gloves while Jake started addressing the boys.

  I studied Mickey thinking it could not be denied, in his loose track pants with his skintight, short-sleeved shirt, leaning casually against a corner thing of a boxing ring, that he looked exceptionally hot, even with his headgear on.

  I still hoped he didn’t want me to go watch him beat someone up while taking a beating.

  “I hope he doesn’t ask me to his fights,” I muttered this thought aloud.

  “Oh yes you do.”

  Josie’s strange tone of voice made me look at her. “Why?”

  She visibly tore her eyes from her husband and looked at me. “Fight night.”

  I felt my brows draw together. “I’m sorry?”

  “Fight night starts with the fight but it ends in far more pleasant activities,” she explained.

  The look on her face, it was dawning on me.

  But she kept going.

  “Win or lose, though as you know I don’t know about losing, but Alyssa does, and I’m very aware that even when Junior loses, Alyssa’s favorite night of any night is fight night.”

  “So they…” I trailed off.

  “Yes,” she stated firmly.

  “And after a fight, they can—?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Better than other—?”

  “The best.”

  My voice was pitched higher when I asked, “Really?”

  “I find it awkward to share how Jake is as a lover. However, I will tell you that he’s excellent even when we must be quick. It’s always good. I love that about him…amongst many other things. But fight night is different. Unique. And quite honestly, I’d watch him lose every single time just so I could be there, however he needed me, once the fight was over.”

  “Wow,” I breathed.

  “Precisely,” she replied, studying my face then stating, “So, I’ll be certain that at every fight, you have your seat with Alyssa and me.”

  I wasn’t looking forward to that at the same time I was.

  Mickey…better?

  My legs started trembling.

  We heard a shrill whistle and we both looked into the gym to see Jake taking his fingers out of his mouth to wave us his way.

  “That’s our cue,” Josie murmured and started moving.

  I moved with her and we barely cleared the door before Jake announced, “Right, you know we’ve struggled to get you boys good gear. But this year, Mrs. Spear, and especially Miz Hathaway, who donated a bunch of really good crap to be sold for the league, raised enough that not only do we have all new gear this year, but you’ll be fighting your matches in the big ring in Blakeley.”

  We had all the boys’ attention on us as we came to a stop at the back of the group.

  At this news there were some open mouths and a sweep of excitement glided through the space before Jake concluded, “So give it up for the ladies.”

  I felt my cheeks warm as the boys let out a collective whoop.

  In all my years of raising money, not once had I personally faced a single soul who benefited from that.

  Taking in those happy faces and their cheer, I found it felt great.

  “Now, line up at the scale,” Jake ordered. “We gotta class you then we’ll get you your gear. After that, get your trainer assignments, introduce yourself to your trainer and get your training schedule.”

  The boys started milling about and Josie and I stepped out of their way so they could do this.

  And my night got better when Cillian walked by with one of his friends.

  He was grinning at me.

  I was grinning back.

  And his friend was saying to him, “Bonus to being a fighter. You get hot chicks.”

  “Yeah,” Cillian replied, looking away from me. “The short one’s my dad’s girlfriend.”

  “Whoa, nice,” his friend said, eyeing me as they jockeyed for position in a line that led to one of those upright scales that Junior was attending.

  It was at that from Cill’s friend that it just wasn’t my cheeks that were warm but other parts of me, primarily the region around my heart.

  The last time I was in this gym, I felt old, unattractive and past my prime.

  Now, I had the approval of twelve-year-olds.

  It wasn’t much but it was something, and having Cillian’s approval of me for his father was even better.

  Then the night got better when I felt weight around my shoulders, looked up and saw Mickey had claimed me with his arm around me.

  “Hey,” he said on an easy grin.

  “Hey back,” I replied.

  “This feel good?” he asked.

  I nodded.

  “Good,” he muttered.

  “Mr. Donovan.” I heard and looked up to see a bruiser who might be seventeen or eighteen standing close to us.

  “Joe,” Mickey greeted.

  The boy looked at me. “Hey, uh…you’re Auden’s mom, right?”

  I straightened and regarded my son’s friend, Joe, who was not seventeen or eighteen but sixteen, which was shocking. He looked like he could be a Marine. And he was very cute.

  “Yes, Joe. I’m Ms. Hathaway.” I offered my hand. “Nice to meet you. Auden’s talked about you.”

  He took my hand briefly then let it go, looking this way and that shyly, as he said, “Yeah. Cool. He’s a good guy.”

  “He is,” I agreed.

 
“Anyway, thanks for doin’ this.” He threw out a hand. “Totally cool.”

  “Happy I could help,” I told him.

  “Right. Great. Anyway, later,” he muttered and moved to the line.

  “Later, Joe,” I called after him.

  Mickey’s lips came to my ear. “You and Josie gotta get the fuck outta here or the situation is not gonna be good.”

  I pulled my head back so I could catch his eyes and he lifted his so he could give them to me.

  “Why?” I asked.

  “’Cause your boy’s friend just met his friend’s MILF of a mom and Josie is pure MILF too. So you two better take off so the league doesn’t grow three times its size just so boys can get a look at the possible ass they’ll be tapping when they’re old enough to know what to do with their dicks. Ass they’ll tap because they were smart enough to train to be a fighter.”

  I reared away, not getting far as Mickey’s arm around my shoulders tightened, but that didn’t stop me from exclaiming, “Mickey! Really!”

  “Babe, I used to be sixteen,” he returned. “Mrs. Getty next door is now seventy-five but she once was forty-five and she saw a lot of sock time.”

  I leaned into him. “I think I just threw up a little in my mouth.”

  “Think of what poor ole Joe is thinkin’, he’s gotta go to school tomorrow and face his friend with the hot mom.”

  “Stop talking,” I ordered sharply.

  Mickey burst out laughing.

  “Stop laughing,” I demanded hotly.

  He didn’t.

  What he did was bend to me and touch his mouth to mine still laughing.

  I didn’t pull away because there were people around, but I did glare at him when he was done.

  “This, right here,” he said. “Again, all you. What you gave the boys, one of ’em my son, the way I feel standin’ beside you with the way you look and what you did for this league. Another flash of happy.”

  I instantly stopped glaring.

  “Thank you, baby,” he whispered.

  I pressed my lips together so they wouldn’t tremble.

  “You gonna cry?” he asked.

  “No,” I mumbled, but even one syllable, it was shaky.

  “Best not kiss you again,” he noted.

  “If you say one more gross thing, I’m not having sex with you for a week.”

  I got another easy grin. “Like you can hold out that long.”

  “Whatever,” I muttered.

  “Amy?”

  “What?” I snapped.

  “You’re the best woman I’ve ever met.”

  I stared into his beautiful blue eyes, seeing those words reflected there and knowing since the moment I clapped eyes on him, one of the things I wanted most was to see that look aimed at me.

  It wasn’t “I love you.”

  But it was the next best thing.

  “Great, now I wanna make out with you,” I griped under my breath to hide how his words made me feel.

  Mickey was again grinning.

  “So, Tuesday is on with Auden and Olympia?” he asked a question he knew the answer to but I knew he asked it to change the subject.

  I nodded as I moved into him, excited and anxious about this first meeting, but hoping, my kids being mine, they’d see Mickey. They’d see how he was with me. They’d see he made me happy. And it would all go great.

  “Lookin’ forward to it, Amy.”

  That was when I smiled up at him but while doing it, I felt a shiver slide up my neck.

  I looked to the side and saw Cillian edging up the line with the other boys being weighed. His neck was twisted. His eyes on his dad and me.

  He looked reflective.

  I braced and did it further when he caught me looking at him. But then he waved a little man’s version of a big man wave, grinned and turned away.

  Not embarrassed to wave at me in public.

  Not turning sullen at his dad touching me, talking to me, laughing with me.

  Bragging to his friend I was his dad’s girlfriend.

  This meant, if Cillian had a stamp, he could press it into ink, come to me and stamp me approved.

  And this made me happy.

  Very, very happy.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Rough Night

  “Pip, light the candles, sweets, would you?” I called and right on the heels of that, “Auden, do me a favor. Pull up Pandora. A good station, down low, nothing techno or anything like that. Dinner music.” And right on the heels of that, “Pip, when you’re done, set the bar. Placements. Plates. Cutlery. Water glasses.” And on the heels of that, “Ouch!” that last because I’d burned my finger on the chicken.

  “Chill, Mom,” Pippa said quietly and I looked to her to see her in the drawer where she could get the long handled lighter. She was looking at me. “It’s gonna be cool. We’re gonna like him.”

  She then grabbed the lighter, shut the drawer and took off to light the candles.

  Needless to say, it was the next Tuesday and Mickey was going to be over imminently.

  Also needless to say, I had lost all excitement about this meeting and was a complete and total wreck.

  For the past week, life had been good with Mickey. I’d had dinner and then hung out at his place three times when the kids were still with him and we’d spent all day Saturday together, dinking around at the shops at Mills jetty then going out for dinner.

  Cillian had definitely approved me. He was relaxed, at ease, open to being what boys his age were: part goofball, part young man.

  Alarmingly, Ash was getting worse. Her hair definitely had not been washed in, my guess, several days. And I’d realized that I’d never really noticed her clothes, because they weren’t noticeable. However, with the hair thing, taking in her full appearance, I noted them along with the fact that her hair was not only not washed, it needed a cut, she didn’t put on makeup and her clothes were bulky and oversized, not quite hiding the fact that she was putting on weight.

  Unlike my mother, I was not of the opinion that every female should be stick thin, wear makeup and spend huge chunks of time on their appearance, unless they enjoyed doing that kind of thing.

  But Ash’s timid quietness moving to awkward near-silence and the total deterioration of her appearance at her age was alarming.

  Mickey had a lot on his plate but I felt it was too important not to mention. Therefore, when we’d met at the diner for dinner the night before, I’d brought it up.

  It had not escaped him. He was extremely concerned. He also was a man and had no idea what to do. Further, he shared that he’d brought this up with Rhiannon some time ago and she didn’t agree there seemed to be an issue, but she did have a conversation with Aisling and declared all was well.

  As Mickey did not agree with Rhiannon’s assessment, he’d shared with me that over the past few weeks he’d tried to broach the subject with Aisling. He’d since backed off due to the fear that his efforts were making her retreat further and get worse.

  Clearly all was not well. But now, Mickey and Rhiannon didn’t have the relationship where he could discuss this with her so her mother could step in and as her father, he was at a loss of how to broach it.

  “Next time she’s with me, I’ll try one more time. See what I can do. That doesn’t go well, I gotta ask you, baby, if you’ll step in,” he’d said.

  I didn’t feel I was at a place with Ash where I could do this. We’d had together time and we’d done some bonding making dinner weeks before, but we weren’t close and in all the time I’d spent with Mickey’s family since we officially got together, we didn’t get any closer. This was mostly because whenever I was over, she had dinner with us but then would disappear in her room and I’d only get a, “Later, Amy!” shouted back when Mickey shouted that I was leaving.

  This in itself was alarming. She hadn’t shared with me in any open way or even in girl code that she liked me with her father. But still, in the beginning, even if she didn’t make it plain, she?
??d communicated that to me.

  Also in the beginning, even before Mickey and I got together officially, Aisling seemed to settle in to the shifting Donovan family unit, a unit that included me. We’d been connecting, gradually, but that had been the path we were on.

  Now there was nothing.

  But I didn’t care. If the father-daughter talk didn’t go well, I was going in.

  Thus I’d replied, “Whatever you need.”

  Mickey didn’t hide his relief, which told me precisely how concerned he was about the situation.

  However, that conversation happened last night.

  Right then, I had other things on my mind.

  Things that included the fact that I’d just gotten my kids back and now I was introducing Mickey into the mix.

  The way the current mix was didn’t seem volatile and after the last few years, my mother’s antennae to something like that was tuned to extremes.

  But outside of Conrad showing and being a jerk, the kids had decided their own custody schedule, and since our hostile conversation, Conrad hadn’t said a thing. They’d even both brought clothes to keep at my place because they were at Cliff Blue as often as they were with Conrad and Martine.

  I liked floating on those calm seas. I didn’t want to rock that boat.

  I kept telling myself that Mickey was a good guy and there was nothing even in my wildest conjuring he was likely to do to make my kids not accept him.

  That didn’t mean I wasn’t worried.

  I fought down the urge to phone Mickey, call dinner off and reschedule in six months as I finished pulling the chicken, mixed it with the barbeque sauce and put it into the oven to keep warm.

  I turned to take in my house and heard soft music playing. It wasn’t my choice of dinner music, it was rock ‘n’ roll, but the John Mellencamp type of rock ‘n’ roll that wouldn’t put you to sleep and sounded good turned down (though, that didn’t mean it didn’t sound better turned up).

  I also saw the bar was set. I’d contacted the furniture company and the dining room table was coming, but it wasn’t going to arrive until later that week, so we were eating at the bar. Pippa had done as I’d asked and even filled my pretty new pitcher with ice water.

  The candles were lit. The lighting was a shade up from romantic.