All was perfect.
Except I should have bought flowers.
“I should have bought flowers,” I mumbled.
“Not sure, but since your dude is a dude, he probably doesn’t give a crap if you bought flowers,” Auden, sliding on the stool opposite me, told me.
He was right.
I smiled at him, lifting a hand to tuck my hair behind my ear.
It was then I realized I’d forgotten to put earrings in.
“Shit! I forgot earrings!” I cried, this exclamation being far more dramatic than the situation warranted.
“According to the microwave you have two minutes to accomplish that mission, Mom,” Pippa teased. “Since your jewelry isn’t in Calcutta, thinking you can pull that off.”
I gave her a look that was half smile, half glare as she grinned at me then I moved, saying, “I’ll be right back.”
Auden got in on the act, calling to my back, “We’ll try to survive without you.”
I hoped they’d have to wait years before they had to do that.
I hurried down the hall but I’d nabbed my phone before I left the kitchen in the unlikely event Mickey called me, told me he had 24-hour pneumonia, but not to worry, Florence Nightingale had resurrected to care for him personally, though, alas, he could not come to dinner with me and my children.
This didn’t happen.
But after the third pair of earrings I put on (the first, diamond studs, they were big thus too flashy and too expensive; the second, long hoops that nearly reached my shoulders that Alyssa had talked me into buying, they were too disco; the last, a fall of beads and tiny gold leaves, just right), my phone rang.
I looked down at it on my bathroom counter and my neck muscles got tight when I saw it was Conrad.
Considering he might know what tonight was for Pippa, Auden, Mickey and me, and if he did the odds that he was calling was to ruin it for me were high, I didn’t answer.
However when I’d decided on earrings number three and did a mini-spritz of perfume (that day, I decided on the one Olympia had chosen for me) and I heard my phone chime it had a voicemail, curiosity got the cat.
I picked it up, went to voicemail and listened to Conrad’s message.
“Amelia,” he said tightly. “I’m hoping this call came in prior to your evening’s…festivities.”
He knew what tonight was for the kids and me.
“However,” he kept talking, even on voicemail sounding like he was doing it while having his nails pulled out by the roots, “things are busy at the moment and I had some time to call. There are some things we need to discuss. If you’d please call my secretary, we can set a meeting. Have a…good evening.”
He then rang off but as I was listening my phone chimed with a text. This too was from Conrad and it was his secretary’s name and number.
I stared at it wondering what we needed to discuss. I also wondered why whatever that was needed to be discussed face to face. And last, I stared at it thinking that we actually didn’t have anything to discuss face to face and I would share that via text the next day after I survived the trauma of the next few hours.
I walked out of my bathroom and was heading down the hall when the doorbell rang.
My steps faltered as I experienced a mini-heart attack.
“I got it!” Auden called.
I then experienced a not-mini-heart attack.
Even in the throes of a life emergency, I rushed down the hall seeing Auden strolling to the door and I did this feeling my pulse jumpstart and do it way too quickly.
I got to the mouth of the hall and stopped dead because Auden had the door open and Mickey was standing there looking all that was Mickey, wearing another nice shirt, this one plaid in a muted red and brown against a cream background, jeans and boots.
He was also carrying an enormous bouquet of flowers.
Again, my heart stuttered as my cheeks flushed and I fell a little bit deeper in love with Mickey.
I did it wondering how that saying came about considering falling in love didn’t feel like falling.
It felt like soaring.
“Hey,” Mickey greeted, not having looked at me, his focus was on Auden.
My son puffed up his chest a little and straightened his back, not yet as tall as Mickey and I didn’t know if he would get there, but he was claiming all the height he had in the face of all that was Mickey.
“Hey,” Auden replied.
“Flowers!” Pippa exclaimed happily, skip-dashing toward the door before she stopped, turned to me and beamed.
My girl liked her flowers and Mickey thinking of them was a good thing.
But Mickey bringing a bouquet that huge, to Pippa, was a major statement that spoke volumes.
“You wanna let him in, kiddo?” I suggested to Auden, forcing my body to move forward as Mickey looked from Pippa to me.
He smiled, big and beautiful.
I smiled back, hoping I gave him the same thing.
Auden stepped out of the way and Mickey walked in, coming right to me as I met him halfway.
When we stopped, he put a hand light to my hip and bent deep, touching his mouth briefly to mine.
When he lifted away, he murmured, “Hey.”
“Hey back,” I replied quietly.
His eyes kept smiling then he took his hand from my hip and turned to the kids.
“Okay, I think we all know each other but let’s make that official,” I suggested. “Auden, Pippa, this is Mickey. Mickey, these are my kids, Auden and Olympia.”
I did hand gestures along the way as Auden pushed in first, offering his hand to Mickey.
“Hello, sir,” he said formally, which made Pippa widen her eyes and look at me.
I pressed my lips together, giving her wide eyes back, as Mickey took my son’s hand and replied, “Mickey’s fine, Auden.”
“Right,” Auden muttered as he let go.
“Hey!” Pippa cried brightly, hopping toward him, beaming up at him and offering a hand.
I watched her do this, allowing myself a brief moment of sheer joy that my girl was back.
Mickey took her hand and replied, “Hey.”
They separated and Pippa tipped her head to the flowers and offered, “Do you want me to take those? I can put them in water for Mom.”
Mickey lifted the massive bouquet of green hydrangeas, peach roses and red gerbera daisies to Pippa and said, “Sure, darlin’. Thanks.”
She took them in both hands, pulling them to her chest, before she beamed at me and skipped away.
“Can I get you a drink, Mickey?” Auden asked.
“Yeah, thanks. A beer,” Mickey answered.
Auden nodded and moved away.
I looked to Mickey. He looked to me. Then he moved in close, sliding a hand to the middle of my back.
“You doin’ okay?” he asked under his breath.
“I’m a wreck,” I told him under mine.
“Don’t mean to freak you, Amy, but you aren’t hiding that.”
“Great,” I mumbled and he grinned.
“It’s cute.”
“It doesn’t feel cute.”
“Relax,” he replied. “I already know you got good kids. This is gonna go fine.”
It seemed so far he was right. I just hoped it kept up that way.
“The flowers were a nice touch,” I shared.
“Got that. Your girl is as easy to read as you.”
I felt my face get soft.
“Uh…Mom,” Pippa called. I jumped and looked her way. She was smiling broadly. “You sold all the vases.”
“Crap,” I muttered.
Auden came out of the fridge with Mickey’s beer and asked him, “Do you want this in a glass?”
“Bottle’s good,” Mickey answered.
“I know!” Pip exclaimed. “I’ll pour the ice water in the glasses and use the pitcher.”
“Good idea, sweets,” I told her.
She jumped to the pitcher, setting aside the flo
wers.
Auden approached with Mickey’s beer, handed it to him and asked me, “Do you want a glass of wine?”
“That’d be great, kid,” I replied.
He nodded, all man of the house, and moved away.
I watched my kids handling this situation so splendidly, better than I was, and suddenly was overwhelmed with an enormous feeling of relief. Relief that I’d done such a good job raising them (admittedly with Conrad also being a good father). Relief that they survived the “hurricane” as Mickey described it and its aftermath and then settled right back into the great kids we’d raised.
This was coupled with the hope that if my kids could survive a stormy breakup of their parents and move on the way they did, that Mickey’s kids would do the same.
And taking this in, I was no longer a wreck. I was a woman in the warm, friendly home I’d created for my family, with said family and my handsome wonderful boyfriend having dinner.
I looked up at Mickey. “You want to take a seat while the kids and I start putting dinner together?”
“Rather help out,” he replied.
I beamed up at him.
His beautiful blue eyes moved over my face before I saw warmth and pride shine out and he lifted a hand to run his knuckles briefly along my jaw before he dropped it and asked, “What can I do?”
“Mickey, you can help me grill the buns and we’ll get the fries in the oven,” Pippa bossed. “Mom, you cut up the pickles. Auden, get out the cheese platter and coleslaw. And make sure you grab a serving spoon for the slaw.”
We all hopped to, moving around the kitchen doing our assigned tasks. While Mickey and Pip did theirs, he asked how she was liking high school and that was all he had to do. In mile-a-minute speak, Pippa answered, telling him even more than what I knew about how she felt about high school (in summary, it was awesome).
We got dinner together and were seated, Mickey at the end of the bar, me, Auden and Pippa down the front, and Mickey told my son that I’d told him Auden wrestled.
“Yeah,” Auden confirmed.
“You any good?” Mickey asked.
“Made all-county and won regionals last year,” Auden answered, his tone bordering between proud and humble.
My good son.
“You’re good,” Mickey muttered, took a forked-up bite of his pulled chicken sandwich (the only way you could eat it since it was piled high with cheese and slaw). He swallowed and his eyes slid to me. “And this is good.”
I grinned at him. “Thanks, honey.”
He gave me a moment to take in his eyes dancing before he looked back to Auden. “Obviously, you’re gonna wrestle again this year.”
“Yeah,” Auden replied. “We’ve already started conditioning.” He looked at me and teased, “You don’t have to come, Mom.”
I rolled my eyes at him and shoved a forkful of sandwich in my mouth.
“Why wouldn’t you go?” Mickey asked me.
“Mom hates wrestling,” Auden answered for me.
I quickly chewed, swallowed and denied, “I don’t hate wrestling. I just hate watching people wrestle my son.”
“It’s a sport. No one gets hurt,” Auden returned.
“I know,” I replied, falling into a conversation we’d had several times before. “But I’m a mom. This is a feeling you’ll never feel so you’ll never understand it so you just have to let me feel it and deal.”
“I usually pin them,” Auden pointed out.
“This, and the fact you’re my son and I’d go even if you didn’t, is why it doesn’t drive me totally crazy. Just borderline crazy.”
Auden shook his head, his lips quirking.
“You don’t like your kid wrestling, you’re gonna be a basket case at my fights,” Mickey remarked.
I looked to him. “Probably. But if you ask me, I’m still going.”
Mickey appeared surprised before his attention turned to Auden who asked, “You fight?”
Mickey nodded. “Adult league.”
“Wow. Cool,” Auden murmured.
“I’m sooooo…totally…going to the junior league fights,” Pippa declared.
“You are?” I asked, stunned at her declaration.
“Totally,” she confirmed.
“Totally because she’s got a thing for Joe,” Auden muttered.
“Auden!” Pippa snapped.
My son raised his brows. “Do I not speak truth?”
“No,” she bit out.
Auden ducked his face to his plate, and before tossing a fry into his mouth, mumbled, “Full of it.”
Before Pippa could explode, I shared, “Met Joe at the league signups. He seems very nice.” I looked to my girl. “And very cute.”
Pink hit her cheeks and she looked away to concentrate on her meal.
“Too bad Polly’s got a thing for Joe too,” Auden added.
This did not make me feel good things, especially when Pippa’s head jerked Auden’s way.
“She does?”
Auden looked to his sister, to me, to Mickey then said to Olympia, “She’s kinda big on anything you’re big on.”
They were friends. That would be the case.
However, this should not include boys.
Pip looked a little startled, a little confused as she turned her attention back to her plate and before I could wade in and change the subject, Mickey, clearly noticing Pippa’s discomfiture as well, did it for me.
“So, Auden, you gonna be a doctor like your dad or you thinkin’ you got other plans?”
This was so smooth, his mention of Conrad in a casual way, no nastiness, not even a tinge of ugly to his tone, I wanted to grab his head, yank him to me and kiss him.
Both kids caught it too. I knew it when both looked his way appearing surprised.
But Auden, my good boy, followed Mickey’s lead and went with it.
“Dad’s job is awesome but I’m not thinking it’s for me. My uncle Lawrie let me observe him in court once, and he ruled. It was freaking cool. So I don’t know, I got some time to decide, but I might be an attorney.”
Mickey gave no indication he comprehensively disliked that profession and replied, “Big plans. You already thinking of colleges?”
Auden answered his question and thus began easy chatting while eating that Mickey skillfully guided, mostly with the kids showing he was interested in them in a natural way that wasn’t nosy or eager to please.
As for me, I ate, listened to the casualness of their getting to know each other and just felt the happy.
I was feeling this when I also felt Mickey’s knee brush my knee and I turned my head his way.
His lips hitched up very slightly but it was his eyes that were communicating.
They said, See? It’s going fine.
I pressed my knee against his and hoped I gave him the message back that I agreed and it was making me happy.
Dinner done, the kids cleared and rinsed the dishes, putting them in the dishwasher as Mickey got out the dessert plates and I got out the apple pie and ice cream.
Conversation was still flowing but it was at this juncture that it occurred to me that Mickey inserting himself into dinner activities rather than sitting on a stool, drinking beer and being removed, was another skillful move. He’d been to my house often. He was welcome at my house any time I could get him there. I couldn’t say we made dinner together or ate together there but he really wasn’t a guest in my home. He was part of my life and thus part of my home.
And he didn’t cast himself in the role of guest in my home when my children were present either. Something they couldn’t miss and something that again Mickey made easy.
I was grinning to myself at how smart Mickey was when his phone in his jeans pocket rang.
I didn’t think much of this, didn’t even look at him until I felt the shiver trill down my spine.
My head snapped his way to see his focus completely on his phone, his lips muttering, “Sorry, gotta take this,” and his legs moving him out of the k
itchen.
I had one eye on Mickey wandering across the landing, one hand on the handle of the knife I was pulling out of the block and half a mind on my daughter who was asking me, “Mom, you want me to nuke the caramel sauce?” when Mickey stopped, turned and started back our way.
“Right. There in ten,” he stated, took his phone from his ear and looked to me. “Gotta go, babe. Fire on the jetty.”
My body stilled completely.
Mickey’s didn’t. His long legs brought him in my space where he bent quick, hand cupped on the back of my head to tilt it, and he brushed his lips against mine so briefly, it was a memory while it was happening.
“Sorry,” he muttered.
“That’s okay,” I forced out.
He let me go and looked between the kids. “Sorry to cut this short. Good meal. Cool to meet you.”
“No probs,” Auden replied as Mickey moved swiftly to the door. “Cool to meet you too.”
“Be safe!” my daughter, far more together than me, called as the door was closing on Mickey.
I stared at the door.
There in ten.
I kept staring at the door.
Fire on the jetty.
“Mom, you okay?”
Mickey was off to fight a fire on the jetty.
“Hey, Mom, you okay?”
I blinked and saw Pippa in my space.
“There’s a fire on the jetty,” I whispered and watched my daughter watching me and then I saw her face twist.
Fear.
For Mickey, maybe.
For me, that was the bigger possibility.
I’d proved to both my kids that I couldn’t handle extreme situations.
She thought I was going to lose it.
So I had to pull myself together for a variety of reasons.
For my daughter, who, like my son possibly was with his father, had me to look to to learn how to cope with life and all it could throw at you.
For Mickey, who loved being a firefighter and wanted me in his life so I had to prove I had it in me to deal when something like this happened. He fought fires. He didn’t need to do it at the same time worried his woman was at home falling apart with worry.
And for my son, who possibly was manning up, thinking he had to take care of his mom, and who also didn’t need to worry about his mother falling apart.
Mickey was trained. Mickey was experienced. Mickey had done this before.