“She’s okay,” I assured him.
He took my hand and I straightened as he guided me away from Layla and out of the living room, back down the hall to the foyer that I now saw had a door leading to the garage, another to a half bath and a set of stairs. Layla followed or I should say, she eventually led the procession, knocking me into Mike as she forged ahead of us on the stairs then stood at the top, waiting for our arrival, her tongue still out, her face set in the doggie question of, “What’s taking you guys so long?”
We made it to the top and Mike showed me Jonas’s room, Layla sweeping in and running through it like she was an enthusiastic tour guide, and I saw his boy was obviously into music. There was a drum kit set up and a guitar on a stand and the walls could not be seen for all the band posters on them. The bed was unmade and the drawers were open with clothes spilling out.
“He’s not big on pickin’ up his room,” Mike told me.
“I would guess that’s in the Teenage Boy’s Handbook seeing as it’s also in the Adult Man’s Handbook. Gotta train ‘em early.”
Mike chuckled and showed me Clarisse’s room, Layla again running through it even over the bed, which was made. His daughter’s room looked almost identical to Keira’s except not pinks and purples, instead blues and yellows and instead of daisies, there were butterflies and there was not a mixture of boy band and teenage vampire posters, there were only teenage vampires.
I looked up at Mike. “You load your gun with silver bullets?”
“Clarisse tells me that only works on werewolves.”
I burst out laughing and Mike smiled at me before he threw an arm around my shoulders and then he showed me a smaller room with more shelves and a high-backed, black leather swivel chair in front of a large desk with built-in storage and a computer on it. There was a comfortable looking armchair in the corner with a table and a standing lamp beside it. A study for him, for the kids, a private place to be, to do your homework or read. It was nice.
Then he led me out of there and took me down the hall, showing me his room.
That was nicer. It had more French doors, a small, private deck leading off. The room was huge, so was his bed, and his bed was cool as all hell, a dark wood, heavy sleigh bed with a taupe, tan and chocolate paisley comforter. Layla didn’t play tour guide here. She got to Mike’s room, she ran straight up and jumped on the bed, settling on her belly, her head on her paws.
I ignored the dog’s invitation to join her on Mike’s bed and Mike told me there was walk-in closet and showed me the master bath with double basin, separate bath and shower. The bath was bigger than most, oval, sitting in a platform with a step up. The bathroom was enough for me to buy this house. It was awesome, a woman’s dream.
He led me out and I was feeling weird about taking a tour of his bedroom. I hadn’t been on a second date since I was in high school but I was thinking this was unusual.
I felt so weird, I didn’t think before I remarked, “That’s quite a bed.”
“Audrey paid six thousand dollars for that bed,” Mike replied.
I stopped dead and stared up at him.
“What?”
“Yep, six thousand fuckin’ dollars. She loved that bed. Won’t say much for me, honey, but, seein’ as I actually paid for it and I knew she loved it and no way we could sell it and make that cake back, I made certain I got it in the divorce. Our divorce wasn’t pretty, she fought me on everything, had no ground to stand on, lost huge,” he smiled, “lost her fuckin’ bed.”
Since he did pay for it and he should get it and it was a great bed, I smiled back at him.
“Anyway, Clarisse and I got a thing, Scary Movie Friday Night. She’s with me on a Friday, we watch horror movies, bowls of popcorn, tubs of ice cream.” His head tipped to the wall where there was a flat screen TV installed. “Jonas even stoops to join us every once in awhile. Bed’s perfect for Scary Movie Friday Night.”
I thought of Mike with his unknown daughter having a Scary Movie Friday Night, a twelve year old girl watching horror flicks, cuddled up to her big, tall, strong, handsome Dad and I didn’t have a belly flutter. My eyes filled with tears and I looked away.
“Hey,” Mike called.
I took a sip of wine and stared at the wall.
His hand came to my jaw and he repeated, “Hey,” as he forced me to look at him.
“Can I use your bathroom?” I asked, staring at his nose.
“You can, you look at me and tell me why you got tears in your eyes.”
I blinked back the tears, swallowed then looked at him and whispered, “Sorry.”
“About what?”
“It doesn’t happen much anymore, but when it does it throws me, always,” I shut my eyes tight, then opened them and repeated, “always.”