So after I let myself inside and turned on a lamp by the TV, walked to the kitchen and flipped on the pendants over the bar, I put my clutch on the counter and dug out my phone.
Then I texted him, There’s no excuse for what happened tonight so I won’t try to make one. I’ll only say I’m very sorry. I enjoyed our time together and I’m sad that it ended this way.
I said no more, not telling him he’s a good man and he’ll find someone, which would probably not be something he wanted to read from me. Nor did I tell him I wasn’t leading him on or playing games and that things with Mickey and I were complicated, which was true but would sound banal to him and also something he wouldn’t want to read. Nor did I tell him I hoped he didn’t think badly about me because that was selfish and likely an impossible feat.
I kept it short and offered my apologies. It was the only thing I could do.
I fretted for a while about my behavior but the fretting drifted away and the pacing started when it sunk in completely that Mickey Donovan had kissed me.
Kissed me.
I didn’t know how that could happen. I’d kissed him and he’d pulled away, told me I was…“attractive,” gave no indication he was interested in me, and in fact gave lots of indication he didn’t much like me.
When the fretting about that started to overwhelm me, I’d called Robin.
With that call done, now I had hours before Mickey would show at my door, possibly to kiss me again (which caused such extreme excitement I felt the urge to go straight to the toy in my nightstand drawer and make use of it). He also possibly would ask me out, which was frankly unfathomable (or had been, until he kissed me).
Or he possibly would come over in order to tell me what happened at the restaurant was a huge mistake and he thought it best we never see each other again.
Which would mean I’d lose Mickey even though I didn’t have Mickey and when I did, we were fighting.
Even so, the very idea of that loss was too much to even contemplate.
It would also mean I’d lose Aisling and Cillian.
Something else I couldn’t contemplate.
When these thoughts were about to send me over the edge, I decided to call my brother, who would listen then give it to me straight. And since he was a man, he might know what was in Mickey’s head.
On this decision, my phone in my hand let out a chime.
I looked down at it then quickly slid my finger on the screen to get to the text.
It was from Robin and it read, “I’m fine. I’m also pissed at you. Give me three days to hold a grudge then I’ll call you. But I reserve the right for the grudge to last less time.
That was it but it gave me relief, made me smile and was a little surprising since a three day grudge for Robin was unheard of—case in point, the grudge she had against her ex lasting five years without cooling.
Before I could send a reply, I got another text from her.
And this guy better be hot. Hot enough to make Conrad lose his mind and consider suicide. Anything less, MeeMee, and I’ll be very disappointed in you.
That made me smile bigger because it was funny and because she would very much approve of Mickey. She might live for revenge against her cheating ex-husband, but that didn’t mean she didn’t appreciate masculine eye candy.
I texted back, Okay, sweets, and this is the last you’ll hear from me until your grudge is over. But just to put your mind at ease, Mickey is definitely hot.
After sending that, I called my brother.
“Hey, MeeMee,” he greeted.
“Hey, Lawrie. You free?”
“I’m at work but for you I’m always free.”
I was not surprised he was at work, seeing as it was earlier there, not to mention the fact that, since both his boys were old enough to drive and go off and do their own things, my brother stopped working constantly and started working constantly in order to escape his wife.
I was also not surprised he would make himself free for me. In my life, after I’d found that Conrad didn’t, Lawr was the only one who loved me demonstrably and unreservedly.
“Listen,” I began. “Conrad called tonight and he asked me to ask you to quit badgering him.”
I heard Lawr hoot before he replied, “Jesus, that guy’s an asshole. I called him twice, MeeMee. The first call lasted two minutes before he hung up on me. The second was right after that where he answered and I shared he was a dick before I hung up on him. That’s not badgering.”
He would know badgering. He was an attorney.
“I figured it was something like that,” I muttered, then clearer, I said, “He’s blaming me, so I appreciate you sticking up for me, but I’d prefer you stopped doing it.”
“He mention the kids?” Lawr asked.
“No. Why?” I asked back, my neck muscles tightening.
“I called them too.”
I stared at my reflection in the window. “I’m sorry?”
“Told them to cut you some slack. Told your son that you don’t have anybody since his father tore apart your family so he was up to bat and had to take care of his mother. Told your daughter she had one good female role model in her life and she was going to blow it if she lost that.”
So that was why they spoke to me. Because their Uncle Lawrie, who they both loved, adored and respected, had called them and laid it out.
God, I loved my brother.
“Should have done that years ago,” he murmured.
“They were a lot better at the last visit,” I told him.
“Good,” he said softly.
“Kinda shocking, you being a pain in the behind big brother for twenty years then turning out to be so cool when you’re nearly fifty.”
“Shut up, MeeMee,” he returned, a smile in his voice.
I smiled at my reflection and asked, “Do you have more time?”
“Are you my MeeMee?”
God, I loved my brother.
“I am,” I confirmed.
“Sock it to me, sweetheart,” he invited.
That was when I started pacing again because I did. I socked it to him and told him everything—absolutely everything—about Mickey.
This took a while. There was a lot of pacing. I was still in my slingbacks and it would be a lot later when I would come to the happy realization I could walk that much in them and they’d still be comfortable even being new shoes I’d never worn.
When I was done telling my brother everything, I stopped, wrapped my free arm around my belly, stared at my toes and asked, “So? Is Pippa right? Is this guy into me?”
At that, I heard Lawr burst out laughing.
My head came up. “What’s funny?”
“Is this guy into you?” Lawr asked my question back to me, his deep voice still vibrating with humor.
“That’s the question and in my current circumstances, I don’t find anything funny,” I snapped.
“Right.” That word sounded kind of strangled, like he was choking back laughter, and he still hadn’t quite done it when he went on, “I’ll confirm a fourteen-year-old girl’s keen perception of the way of things with you and this guy are even though she witnessed you with him for all of five minutes. Amelia, this guy is into you.”