“Fuck,” he growled.
“More importantly, Mrs. McMurphy died last night.”
“Babe,” he whispered.
Then it happened. Like it had happened the time I talked to him when my kids came back to me.
And as a repeat, my sob was audible.
Mickey heard it. “Amy, baby.”
“I haven’t cried yet,” I sniffed.
“Have at it, then,” he offered.
It was a lovely offer, so very Mickey, but I didn’t “have at it.”
I wiped my face, took a deep breath and said, “Maybe it’s good that tonight I just hang at home, watch a movie…”
I trailed off, thinking of myself clutching Mrs. McMurphy’s umbrella and watching Cocoon.
Maybe I should mope with Ash at Mickey’s.
Mickey spoke my thoughts. “Not sure that’s a good idea.”
“I won’t be good company, Mickey. I’ll be okay and I’ll come over another night.”
“Amy—”
“I’ll be okay.”
He didn’t respond immediately and when he did, it was, “Hang on.”
I hung on.
He came back. “Shit, got a patch job that’s come through. After work, gotta go see to that.”
“See?” I asked. “This is not our night.”
“Right,” he replied. “Touch base with you later.”
“Okay, Mickey.”
“Keep your chin up ’til then.”
“I will, honey.”
“Later, babe.”
“’Bye, Mickey.”
We hung up and I pulled myself together, getting some hummus and tortilla chips and camping out in front of the TV not watching Cocoon (or The Notebook or Fried Green Tomatoes). Instead I watched Rock of Ages and did it hoping Cillian didn’t see it because emulating Tom Cruise from that movie might make Mickey’s head explode.
I was channel surfing after the movie when I jerked and lifted up, looking over the back of the couch toward the door because the bell rang.
I didn’t have the best view but I still could see it was Mickey through the stained glass.
“Touching base,” I mumbled to myself, liking that I had a guy who would do that in person after I got really bad news that ruined my day.
I rolled off the couch, went to the door, unlocked it and tipped my head back.
“Hey,” I greeted.
“Hey back,” he replied then pushed a handled, glossy bag my way. “That the right shit?”
I stared at him, brows drawn, before I took the bag, opened it and saw inside a bottle of my cleanser and another of my moisturizer. These were rattling around with a toothbrush in its plastic.
I didn’t use stuff you got at Walgreen’s.
My stuff was expensive and you got it direct from the salon or at the mall.
He’d gone to the mall for me.
Slowly, I lifted my head and, not knowing what else to say, said, “Yes.”
“Right,” he replied, pushed past me, walked to the kitchen, nabbed my purse, snatched up my phone then came right back to me. “Keys in your purse?”
“Yes,” I repeated.
He handed my purse to me. “Get ’em out.”
“Mickey, I—”
“Let’s go, babe. I’m starved and Ash has dinner ready.” My mouth dropped open as his eyes moved to the TV. “Fuck. That’s on. I’ll get that.”
He then sauntered to the TV, turned it off and then turned off all the lamps I had lit.
After that, he came back to me.
“Keys?” he prompted.
“Are you saying…am I…am I spending the night at your place?” I stammered.
“You had a shit day,” he replied. “You lost someone you knew. Don’t know how tight you were with her. Do know it fucked with you. So you’re not gonna sit over here alone and you’re not gonna sleep alone. You’re comin’ over. Broke the news to the kids that we lost Mrs. McMurphy today. They’re not feelin’ good about it, just like you. So we’re gonna have dinner and hang and then you’re gonna sleep beside me, mostly so I can sleep beside you and know you’re okay. The kids know you’re spendin’ the night. They get why in more ways than one. And they want you over. So, keys out, Amy, so we can lock up and get home so I can eat.”
I felt tears hit my eyes again.
“Babe,” he said impatiently, “cry over at my place. We’ll hole up in my room. But at least after I get you through that, all I gotta do is walk to my kitchen so I can stuff my face.”
I licked my lips, rolled them and took a breath through my nose.
Then I bent my head, dug out my keys and walked out the door.
Mickey followed me.
I locked my door.
Mickey grabbed my hand and walked us to his place.
We didn’t hole up in his room.
By the time we got there, I’d pulled myself together.
So when we got there, there was no delay in Mickey stuffing his face.
* * * * *
Like Mickey did with my kids, but with more practice, me and the Donovans cleaned up the kitchen after dinner.
Through dinner, I could tell the kids were a bit stunned by the news, but since they’d only met her a couple of times, mostly they were cautious and watchful over me.
It was sweet.
It wasn’t until we had the kitchen cleared and we were camped out in front of the TV that Cillian stated loudly, “Okay. I’m just gonna say it. She was a nutty old lady and she was funny. Why can’t we think about the funny? If she was right in the head and here right now, wouldn’t she want us to think of her and how funny she was?”
“Cill,” Ash, who had elected not to close herself in her room that evening, snapped.
“I’m being serious,” he shot back. “I mean, I didn’t know her when she was right in the head, but if I ever got not right in the head I’d want people to think I’m funny instead of worrying about me and bein’ sad. And after I’m gone, I’d want them to remember me that way. That’s a whole lot better than bein’ sad.”
“Maybe Amy feels like being sad,” Aisling retorted. “She knew her better than you.”
“I stole her umbrella,” I announced into this discussion.
All three pairs of Donovan eyes came to me.
“Come again, baby?” Mickey asked cautiously.
I told them the story of her taking a stroll in the cold rain on a warm sunny day and then shared, “So before I left today, I went into her room and stole that umbrella.” I looked to Cillian. “I had no idea why I did it until you said what you said, kiddo. Now I know I did it because when she did what she did, it made me smile. But I’d wanted to laugh. And I wanted to remember that about her. I took that umbrella because I never want to forget her and I always want to remember how she made me want to laugh.”
“See?” Cillian said to Aisling.
Before Ash could retort, I told them something they knew. “She thought I was a Nazi.”
And then I started giggling.
Uncontrollably.
“She told me you had a poison pill in your tooth,” Cillian shared through my giggles, smiling at me. “And you better use it because she’d told the Office of Strategic Services on you.”
I started laughing harder.
“She told me your cell phone was some secret Nazi coding machine and you were sending messages direct to Joseph Goebbels,” Aisling added.
At that, I was forced to fall sideways because Mickey’s arm curved around me and he pulled me into him as I started laughing hysterically.
“One thing can be said, the woman knew her history,” Mickey observed drolly and I curled my face into his chest to mute my cackles.
And I loved to feel his chuckles, hear them and his children laughing with me.
It took a while and I was just sobering when Ash asked, “I’m pretty sure Mrs. McMurphy liked Rice Krispie treats because everyone likes Rice Krispie treats so we should celebrate her life with Rice Krispie treats. Who’
s with me?”
“Totally!” Cillian cried. “With peanut butter.”
“No, darlin’,” Mickey put in and I shifted my face so my cheek was to his shoulder as he went on, directing this at his daughter, “Chocolate chips.”
“Chocolate chips and peanut butter,” Cillian bargained.
Mickey sent an easy grin to his boy. “Good compromise, son.”
“Cill, you’re on marshmallow duty,” Aisling ordered, pushing out of the couch.
Cillian didn’t push out of the couch. He vaulted over the back.
Mickey’s arm around me gave me a squeeze and I tipped my head to look up at him. I also noticed how he grabbed his girl’s hand as she walked by him and gave that a squeeze too. And through this, I didn’t miss her looking down at her dad and giving him a sweet smile.
When she was gone and the kids were in the kitchen making Rice Krispie treats, he turned his attention to me.
“Better?” he asked.
I loved him.
Totally loved him.
I mean, how could you not love a man who helped you end a day where the world lost a soul that had touched your heart, doing it guiding you to it giggling with his family and eating peanut butter, chocolate chip Rice Krispie treats?
“Better,” I whispered.
He dipped in and touched his mouth to mine.
Then he turned his eyes back to the TV.
I stayed tucked close, rested my cheek back to his shoulder and did the same.
* * * * *
It was late, hopefully Donovan family bedtime because I was tired, and I was coming back from the bathroom when I ran into Ash in the hallway.
“Hey, blossom, going to bed?” I asked.
“Yeah,” she answered.
I stopped and thought twice but decided to go for it, reaching a hand her way and brushing the back of hers with my fingertips before I said quietly, “Thank you for helping make me feel better tonight.”
She ducked her head, shrugged a shoulder and replied, “Not a problem, Amy.”
I didn’t like that but I didn’t push it. The night had been a good night. She’d been Ash of old (or the old I knew). Hanging with her family. Being quiet-ish but not gloomy. It wasn’t the time to push it.
“Okay, kid, I’ll let you go to bed. Thanks for a good dinner,” I said, giving her a small grin and moving past her.
“Amy?” she called.
I stopped and turned back, seeing her in the open door to her bedroom.
I was only two feet away.
“Yes, honey?” I asked.
“Mom bought that candle. The one on the coffee table.”
At her words, words delivered apropos of nothing but whatever was in Aisling’s head, I braced.
“Okay,” I said when she spoke no more.
“It was on what she called our first ‘big girl shopping trip,’” she told me. “I was seven. I picked the sand.”
“It’s a pretty candle, Ash,” I remarked when she stopped talking.
“She brought it home,” she carried on like I didn’t speak. “Dad teased her like he always teased her when she bought candles. Saying no wife of a fireman had candles. But he didn’t really care. What she liked, he’d like because he liked her.”
“Aisling,” I whispered.
She lifted her chin. “She took it. When she left. She took it.”
I nodded.
“I stole it,” she declared. “I stole it and brought it back.”
“Right,” I said gently.
Her chin trembled and she stared at me.
“Ash—”
“It’s my umbrella,” she whispered.
Then she disappeared behind her closed door.
Which was good since I had to put my hand to the wall to hold myself up, she’d cut me so deep, the blood was pouring out of me.
* * * * *
“Fuck me,” Mickey murmured, his head turned to the side.
He had his back against his headboard, knees cocked, gray flannel pajama bottoms on. I’d never seen him in pajama bottoms (or anything of the like). Then again, when Mickey and I spent the night together, it didn’t involve children in the house.
I was cross-legged beside him, wearing his tee.
I’d just told him Aisling’s candle story.
“Mickey—”
He looked to me. “She brought it back. I noticed. I didn’t say anything because she was weird about it and it was clear she didn’t want me to say anything.”
“That was probably a good call,” I replied.
“For her, that candle’s good times. Before her mom got lost in the bottle. When things were good between her mom and me. Good in the family.”
I nodded.
Mickey looked away and repeated, “Fuck me.”
I gave him a moment, doing it because he needed it but doing it hating to watch him bleed for his baby, before I advised gently, “You should leave it, honey.”
“Yeah,” he told his duvet.
“Mickey?”
He looked to me. “Yeah?”
I looked at him. I looked in those beautiful blue eyes that were now bruised. Worried about his girl. Wanting to fix things. A provider. A protector. Powerless against ugly memories that were still being made.
I wanted to tell him I loved him. I wanted those words to be the magic words I could say that would sweep away the pain. If even for a brief flash of happy, take it all away and send him soaring.
But it was too soon. Neither of us had gotten anywhere near that. In our one-step-at-a-time relationship that included us building it at the same time taking our positions in each other’s families, which would ultimately lead to blending those families, I was spending my first night in his bed under his roof with his kids there.
That was enough for now.
So I gave him that, pushing forward and putting my hands to him, then my weight to him as I kissed his chest, lifted up and kissed the base of his throat and finally snuggled close.
He curved his arms around me.
“The good news is she opened up to me. That means, maybe I can see where that will lead and get more,” I remarked.
“Yeah, that’s the good news.”
He didn’t seem fired up about it.
Then again, he had to see that candle every day probably dozens of times a day and do it knowing what it meant.
I decided to change the subject.
“Thanks for taking care of me tonight.”
He straightened his legs and turned, drawing me closer before he tangled us together, one of his hands gliding up and into my hair to cup the back of my head so he could press my face to his throat.
When he was done doing that, he muttered, “Somethin’ else I can give you.”
“Something you’re good at giving,” I told him. “It was a terrible day. But it was good night.”
“Yeah.”
“Though, in all honesty, you don’t get all the credit. Peanut butter Rice Krispie treats with chocolate chips did a fair amount of the work.”
I heard the smile in his voice when he asked, “A fair amount?”
“However, I must admit to being alarmed Mrs. McMurphy knew about my secret coding machine.”
His body started shaking with his chuckles.
I cuddled closer and kissed his throat.
I settled in and shared, “But you did help. A little bit.”
“Good I could help…a little bit,” he replied, still lightly chuckling.
“And you may be the only man on earth who notices toiletries and has the courage to brave the cosmetics section of the mall to buy his girlfriend moisturizer,” I remarked.
I felt him shift and tipped my head back to see him looking down at me.
“Selfish,” he stated.
“I’m sorry?” I asked.
“Break this seal, can’t be resealed. And it’d suck for you since you’re gonna be in my bed a lot to have to drag your shit back and forth all the time. So now that won’t suck for
you.”
Oh my God, he was right.
The seal was broken and now…now…
Now I got more time with Mickey.
His tone lowered when he noted, “Nighties, you can tuck in your purse then shove in my drawer.”
He was okay with my shoving stuff in his drawer!
I shivered even as I smiled, big.
He saw the smile but I knew he felt the shiver when he said, “Fuck you in the morning, baby, when I know the kids are out.”
“Okay, Mickey.”
“Now kiss your guy so I can turn out the lights.”
“Okay, Mickey.”
I did as ordered. It didn’t get hot and heavy, but like any kiss with Mickey, I liked it a lot.
Then he turned out the lights and re-tangled himself with me.
I lay in his arms in his dark room in his bed and realized he had really good mattresses.
Mine were good too.
But I could be happy sleeping on those mattresses.
Very happy.
Doing it sleeping with Mickey.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Obviously
“Nada. Zero. Zilch. Zip. Nothing.”
Robin was reporting back on what she’d found after studying Magdalene’s finances.
“No discrepancies?” I asked, rushing around my bedroom, finishing getting ready for the evening’s festivities. “Nothing fishy?”
“Nothing fishy,” she answered. “I did some research. You know, found towns of the same size, in the same region with around the same wealth distribution. Even looked up job descriptions and salary structures. It’s all copasetic. Except maybe Magdalene’s Fire Chief has a slightly elevated pay packet. But then again, as a coastal town and county, your wealth distribution is higher, as is cost of living, so that isn’t surprising.”
She’d really done the work. I was impressed.
I was also let down.
I didn’t know why, because I didn’t know what I expected to find.
Perhaps all the firehouses in towns like Magdalene had crappy microwaves, outdated kitchens and old TVs (until someone got new donated, that was).
Even though I didn’t know what drove me to check, I was glad I did it if only to know there actually wasn’t anything suspicious about it. That said, I wouldn’t have minded if there was something meaty to sink my teeth into so the guys would could demand a decent kitchen.