I watched him walk to the bathroom, heard the toilet flush then the shower go on.
I’d been in his room once before, the night I spent there when my kids last left me. I didn’t need to peruse it.
I knew it was nice. Manly. Rhiannon, if she’d ever been there in the decorating scheme, was g-o-n-e gone from there in a way it looked like she’d never existed.
His room, like mine, took up one whole end of his house. It included a big master bathroom toward the backyard that had a double basin, separate shower and the toilet was in its own little room. There was a walk-in closet, only one, but it was huge. The fixtures weren’t old, it had been renovated and that was done sometime relatively recently. Perhaps not last year but if I had to guess, in the last five. If I didn’t have the bathroom to beat all bathrooms and three trust funds that meant I could create any bathroom I wanted, it would have been amazing.
The walls of the bedroom were painted a slate gray that worked with the wood baseboards and amazing tongue and groove ceiling, the wood so dark it was nearly black. He had a fireplace too, one with a stone hearth like the others in his house. That was situated against the wall across from his king-sized, mission-style bed.
He had slate gray sheets that had a sateen sheen. He also had a duvet with a cover, his in dark gray with a hexagon pattern, the lines making the design burgundy.
Between bed and bathroom, there was a large hunk of floor space that he’d filled with two matching club chairs. They shared an ottoman, a sturdy but attractive end table and a standing lamp made in brass. The chairs were covered with clothes (apparently, Mickey didn’t hit the laundry hamper with his clothes either, it looked like he hadn’t done laundry since I met him).
It was clean, though not tidy, exceptionally masculine…and all Mickey.
I loved it.
So I lay happily tangled in his sheets in that room, still feeling Mickey between legs, loafing, snoozing and floating.
“Babe.”
I wasn’t asleep, exactly.
But my eyes were closed.
I opened them to see Mickey in clean work clothes standing beside the bed.
“Time for me to go?” I asked languidly.
“That, right there,” he stated.
I studied him, unsure of his statement, his tone or the intense look on his face.
I began to push up and Mickey ordered, “Don’t fuckin’ move.”
I stilled but held his gaze and whispered, “What’s going on, Mickey?”
“I walked out of my bathroom to that every morning for sixteen years, no way in fuck I’d walk away from it.”
I drew in a sharp breath and remained unmoving as that cut through me and I felt the release.
It wasn’t a bleed.
It was like opening an aching blister to get the fetid ooze out.
“He doesn’t know. He might never know,” Mickey carried on. “But do you know how fuckin’ stupid he is?”
“No,” I replied. “But I do know how fucking lucky I am right now.”
I watched his reaction to that flash in his eyes, but he remained distant until he took the last two steps to the bed and leaned over me.
He brushed the bangs out of my eyes and said softly, “Gotta get you up and dressed. I’ll walk you home and come back and take care of my kids.”
I nodded.
He let his fingers trail down my hairline before he straightened and walked away.
I got up, got dressed and Mickey walked me to my house.
He kissed me in my opened door.
And I watched him walk several steps away from me before I closed it behind him.
*
The text came mid-morning.
Can Polly and I come after school and hang?
Olympia.
I returned, If you hang while doing your homework and getting some of these recorded shows off my DVR, then yes.
She replied, Deal. Pick us up?
I thought of my car and while I did, I decided to buy an SUV.
Then I returned, Sure, if we take turns. Can’t fit you both in my car.
To which I received, You need a new car Mom. I’ll ask Auden to bring us.
I sent, Do that, sweets. Am I making dinner?
And got, Dinner! Yummy!
My kids liked my cooking. Then again, I cooked like a mom and could do that freely now that Conrad wasn’t around.
I replied, Dinner. Check.
A few hours later, I got a text from Auden that said, Drop Polly and Pip off after school. Pick them up at nine.
To which I sent, Thanks, kid. And I’m thinking of a Cayenne.
And got back, Land Rover. White. Totally you.
I grinned.
Then I changed the girls’ plans when they got there (a change of plans they were ecstatic about) and before homework and dinner, we went out and test-drove Land Rovers.
*
“You buy a fuckin’ car without me, Amy, it’s gonna piss me off,” Mickey said in my ear.
My daughter and her friend were gone. It was late. Now, I was in bed saying goodnight over the phone to Mickey.
I’d also, obviously, shared my plans to purchase a new vehicle.
“Do you want to test-drive it?” I asked.
“I want you not to get fucked over buying it,” he answered.
“Mickey, car salesmen hardly screw over women anymore,” I scoffed. “They freely screw over everybody.”
“You’re wrong, Amy.”
“It’s not 1968, Mickey.”
“Right, you go in, get the best deal you think you can get, then walk away. I’ll go in after and get the best deal I can get, text you, you come in and we’ll see about that shit.”
“You’re on,” I snapped.
“Tomorrow?”
“Perfect.”
“You pissed?” he asked.
“Yes,” I answered.
“Because you know you’re goin’ down,” he declared.
“Whatever,” I mumbled.
He chuckled.
I changed the subject. “The kids okay?”
“Tonight, we had the drunk driving talk. They got me as in got me. Tomorrow, before I show you car salesmen are still assholes, I’m goin’ in and havin’ all my teeth pulled without Novocain. Figure that’ll be a whole lot more fun.”
“Oh, Mickey,” I said quietly.
“It’s done. They get me. All I can do. Movin’ on,” he stated.
“Okay,” I said and decided it was time to change the subject again. “So, I was thinking, the kids coming over and things going better, this keeps up for a little while, when they both say they’re coming over together, I can tell them about you. Then, the next time they’re over together, you’ll be here. We can see how it goes when they get here. A quick meet and greet or you casually stay for dinner.”
“Let me know, I gotta rearrange some shit, I’ll do it.”
He’d rearrange some shit for a chance to meet my kids.
And again I was floating.
“Thanks, honey,” I whispered.
“No problem, Amy. Now hate to cut this short, but wanna check on Ash. She’s been quieter than her normal lately and has been in her room all night. Gotta check on my girl.”
That didn’t sound good at all.
But it wasn’t surprising.
“Okay, I’ll let you go.”
“Sleep tight, babe.”
“I will, Mickey. See you tomorrow.”
“Yeah. And plan to be over for dinner. We’ll get your car, come back and hang out.”
I couldn’t wait.
“Sounds good. ’Night, honey.”