At Peace

“Mike, honey, I just nearly burst into tears in your bedroom. You can feel free to tell me about your ex-wife.”


He smiled, took another sip of wine, then slid an arm around my waist, inching me closer and when he had me where he wanted me, he left his arm there.

“I won’t lie, lookin’ back, she gave me signals, lots of ‘em. But she could be funny, fuckin’ hell, she could be funny. Never laughed so hard as I did with Audrey in the beginning, thought that’d be my life, laughter. She was gorgeous and she made me laugh and I kept my focus on that and ignored the signals. It started six months in, after we got back from our honeymoon, which, by the way, she demanded was at an all-inclusive that cost a fuckin’ fortune. I was twenty-four, my parents had to help me pay for it.”

He paused to allow me to let this information sink in, I nodded for him to continue and he did.

“We’d moved into our apartment but she wanted another one, bigger, more exclusive in a development with a pool. I couldn’t afford it but I loved her, so the minute the lease ran out, I moved her into her new apartment. Two months later, she found a house she wanted to buy and it kept goin’ from there. She never hid it from me, I just wanted to think eventually she’d have what she needed or she’d be happy with what she had or, at least, she’d be happy just to have me. She never was.”

I placed my hand on his chest thinking Audrey Haines was all kinds of fool, his arm gave me a squeeze and he went on talking.

“I should have ended it before we got down to kids but, if I did,” he shrugged, “I wouldn’t have my kids.”

“Worth it then,” I murmured.

“Definitely,” he smiled.

Layla, done with giving her hint that camping out on the bed meant we should join her there, came out and started to head butt our legs.

“I should start cooking,” Mike said, letting me go to pet his dog who, remembering he existed, appeared in throes of ecstasy to have his big, strong hand scratching behind her ears.

“Can I help?” I asked and he stayed bent to Layla but twisted his torso to look up at me.

“You always cook for your girls?”

“Mostly, yeah.”

“Then no.”

There it went, the belly flutter again.

“You always cook when your kids are here?” I asked.

“Yeah.”

“Then I’ll help.”

He gave Layla a playful push and came to me, his hand curling at my neck, pulling my upper body close to his as his neck bent so his face could get close to mine.

When he was close, he whispered, “I like you, Violet.”

“I like you too, Mike,” I whispered back.

He grinned, touched his forehead to mine a second then touched his lips to mine a second then he said, “Let’s go cook.”

*

Being a good Dad, Mike knew how to cook. The au gratin potatoes were already cooking in the oven and he made London broil and green beans and he had fresh bakery rolls to go with.

We ate at his kitchen table with Layla lying mostly on Mike’s feet then we did the dishes together. After the dishes, Mike made ice cream sundaes with lashings of caramel and chocolate syrup on gourmet vanilla bean ice cream, whipped cream on top, sprinkled with pralines. I took note of this since they were simple but absolutely delicious. My girls would love them.

We ate these on the couch with Layla sitting by my side, her head on the seat by me, staring at me while blinking, telling me she needed ice cream or she’d die.

Mike noticed and called her off. She gave in with an irritable groan and lay down by my feet.

Conversation through dinner and dessert wasn’t heavy, we didn’t share life stories and I didn’t tear up again. We talked (mostly about our kids), we laughed (mostly about our kids) and he proved again he was easygoing and easy to be around.

Then he took my bowl, ordering me to fill up our wine glasses and he left the room. I did as he ordered and was taking a sip when he got back. He sat down beside me, took my glass out of my hand, set it on the coffee table, put his hands to my pits, dragged my ass across his lap and over then I was on my back and he was on top of me.

Then we were making out on his couch.

I wasn’t certain how I managed to get myself into these situations, fucking Joe on his couch that morning, making out with Mike on his that evening. But I was certain I wasn’t doing a lot to avoid them. I figured, partially, it was because both, in their own way, were pretty freaking magnificent. The other part was that I liked being with both men. I liked it in entirely different ways, but I still liked it.

His mouth moved from mine and his face disappeared into my neck. I felt his tongue trail from the back of my ear down the line of my neck where he stopped and while I shivered, he asked, “Where’re your girls tonight?”

“At home, hopefully not throwing a wild party with boys and kegs.”

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