Soaring (Magdalene #2)

I pushed through the front door. “Not really but I’m sure enough I’d like to invest in being absolutely certain.”

 

 

I walked down the sidewalk to my car, eyes to my feet, as Preston replied, “I can set a private investigator on it.”

 

“Consider this the go-ahead to do that,” I told him, looking up.

 

My step faltered when I saw Mickey in his hot guy dusty construction outfit leaning against my driver’s side door.

 

Really?

 

What now?

 

What could he possibly have left to use to destroy me?

 

I kept my gaze on him as I made my way right to him and stopped just off the curb by my bumper.

 

“Is there something you’re thinking in having this information?” Preston asked in my ear.

 

“I want my children back,” I answered, gaze to Mickey, seeing his eyes in his impassive face flare at my words.

 

“Full custody?” Preston was sounding enthusiastic and I envisioned him rubbing his hands together and not only because of the billable hours but because he liked to get his teeth into a good fight.

 

“I’ll not be greedy,” I replied. “Every other week. My children love their father and I don’t want them to lose something they love. I need some time to see where the kids are, but when I’m ready, this time I don’t intend to lose. And I don’t care how much it costs. I want every woman he had sex with while he was married to me contacted, deposed and ready to testify should Conrad push this to ugly.”

 

Mickey’s body slightly straightened at my “had sex with” but mostly he stayed leaned against my car, his gaze on me.

 

“I’ll talk to my investigator,” Preston said.

 

“Thank you,” I replied.

 

“You’re doing well?” he asked.

 

“I am, but I’m also on my way somewhere. I don’t want to be rude but I need to go.”

 

“Of course, I’ll call you with updates, Amelia.”

 

“Thank you, Preston.”

 

We disconnected and instantly I asked Mickey, “Can you step away from my car?”

 

“You’re fightin’ for your kids?” he asked back.

 

That was none of his business.

 

But after what he did to me last night, he thought he could ask?

 

I’d answer.

 

“My best friend in Cali just found out that my husband didn’t only fuck, and then fall in love with, and then put an engagement ring on the finger of a nurse in his hospital in San Diego, this all while still married to me,” I shared. “He fucked his way through his hospital in Boston, the one in Lexington, perhaps the one in San Diego too, and he’d had at least one sexual harassment claim against him. As this is new information and I’m tired of not seeing my children, should he not agree to a more equitable custody schedule, I’m afraid I’m going to have to fight dirty.”

 

“That’s not dirty, Amy, he’s dirty,” Mickey said quietly.

 

“Thank you for your opinion,” I returned tartly. “Now will you step away from my car?”

 

He straightened from it and turned to me.

 

But he didn’t step away.

 

“We gotta talk,” he told me, his voice gentle, his eyes not leaving me.

 

“No, you see, you’re wrong about that,” I replied. “We’ve done that and I’ve found it isn’t much fun for me.”

 

“I was outta line last night,” he stated.

 

“You were,” I agreed. “Is that your apology?”

 

“Yeah, Amy, that’s my apology.” His voice was still gentle.

 

It sounded amazing.

 

It didn’t work on me because just standing there looking at him, I was still bleeding.

 

“Apology accepted. Now will you step away from my car?”

 

He shook his head not taking his eyes from me. “I’m here askin’ you to give me a shot at explaining that fucked up shit I spewed last night.”

 

“I’m not an imbecile, Mickey,” I informed him instantly. “You explained it pretty clearly last night. You had a wife who you loved who did something you couldn’t control. It was a betrayal against you and your kids, as sure as if she’d gone out and slept with an entire army. Being a man’s man, a protective man, possibly a good man, it hurt you that you couldn’t give her what she needed. I suspect you could handle that, but she hurt your kids and keeps doing it. You’re now forced to tolerate that, even as it’s intolerable. And being a man’s man, you’re not about to put yourself or your kids in the same position with another woman. Do I have that right?”

 

“That about sums it up,” he confirmed.

 

“I do believe we decided that was where we stood last night so I have to admit to some confusion about why you’re here today,” I remarked.

 

“Because I fucked up last night,” he returned.

 

“You’re right. You did. And it’s done. I still don’t understand why we aren’t moving on…separately.”

 

He made as if to move to me but stopped when he saw my body lock.

 

His expression went as gentle as his voice, and with that look on his features, that was a sight to see.

 

It also didn’t work on me.

 

“I’d like a chance to fix it, baby,” he said softly.

 

“No,” I returned firmly. “You see, in three months, you’ve made me feel unattractive, undesirable, unwanted, unneeded and it took two decades for Conrad to make me feel all that.” I fought past his flinch, a flinch even as much as he hurt me I felt right to the heart of me, and concluded, “I’m not yearning for more, Mickey. So why don’t we just let what never was really anything be just that.”

 

“That’s not going to happen,” he declared.

 

“Why?” I asked.

 

“Because I can’t do that,” he answered.

 

“Why?” I snapped.

 

“Because we both want more.”

 

“We did,” I confirmed. “Now I don’t.”

 

“We got something, Amy,” he returned.

 

“Wrong,” I retorted. “We might have but then we didn’t.”

 

His jaw got hard as his patience started waning. “You know that’s bullshit. There’s something here. Something strong. Something I tried to fight but couldn’t. Something that draws us to each other. Something we’re both old enough and smart enough not to ignore. And there’s something you don’t even know that makes it more.”

 

Twenty-four hours ago I would have loved knowing he thought that.

 

Right then, I wouldn’t allow myself to.

 

“This might have been true but it no longer is, Mickey,” I replied. “And since you aren’t catching my hint, I’ll say it straight. I don’t wish to discuss any further what we might have had when in future we won’t be having anything.”

 

“You’re not the only one with a legacy, Amy,” he shot at me, patience definitely waning. “That fishing company my brothers run is Maine Fresh Maritime. The fillets and fish sticks you can find in the green, white and orange box in your local grocer’s freezer.”