Obviously, without demur, since he was tired, I let him go.
The kids came back and we’d actually had a family outing, all four of us going to some burger shack out in the middle of nowhere that frankly was kind of scary (the being in the middle of nowhere business and the restaurant, which, even without me doing a full inspection, I knew had to be making a variety of health violations).
It could not be denied, however, that the kids loved it, the burgers were delicious and I loved family time with Mickey and his kids.
But outside brief phone calls and texts, that was it for that week with Mickey.
Now his kids were gone again. It was Tuesday, my kids were coming that weekend and my relationship with my own offspring meant that it was too early to add Mickey to that mix.
So we wouldn’t be seeing each other that weekend.
And it was nearly five and he had not called or texted all day. In fact, the last text I got from him was the day before at nine thirty in the morning that said, Need to make plans.
I’d replied, We do. Do you have some time off some evening this week?
I’d received no return text.
Nothing.
I didn’t wish to be a spoiled, selfish, dainty heiress, but if I was going to have a man in my life, I wanted to have a man in my life, not the specter of a man who became real only infrequently.
And I didn’t wish to allow Conrad to destroy the possibility of me finding something good and healthy (if Mickey and I miraculously found together time to actually build a relationship) by wondering what, precisely, was taking all of Mickey’s time.
The fact was he’d been with Bridget, the tall, buxom redhead. I’d mentioned her, but he’d said nothing about her.
Were they still dating?
Was she being fit in here and there, whenever Mickey had time not working, volunteering, fathering or being with me?
It had been a long time since I’d been in the dating game, but Mickey had told me to end it with Bradley. I did. It might be an incorrect assumption but Mickey, clearly not being tolerant of me being with another man when there was not one thing between us but a lot of arguing and a kiss, would lead me to believe I could expect the same and that, although relatively new, our relationship was exclusive.
Since I’d grown up, I would have broached this subject with Mickey just to make certain we were on the same page.
Unfortunately, I rarely saw Mickey in order to broach this subject.
But obviously, that niggled at me.
Was Bridget still in the picture?
And last, there was the fact that Mickey had said straight out that men needed to fuck and I was right across the street. I didn’t say it outright but it was implied I was a relatively sure thing. I liked the idea that he wanted to take his time with me but I was right across the street.
A man had needs.
A woman had needs.
But he was not seeing to these needs for either of us.
So what was that all about?
The only good thing that came of the last two weeks (and it was a very good thing) was the fact that things were progressing with my own kids. Pippa had started high school, and I was anxious to know how she was handling that. But both of them were back to school, and I was just interested to know how things were going.
So I asked.
And they answered.
Their phones.
As in, not through texts.
I could not say the conversations lasted for hours and included them baring their souls to me, telling me they forgive me and explaining they wished to spend more time with me.
But I called, they answered, we chatted, it was amicable and relatively informative and the more it happened, the less stilted it became.
I did not push this. I texted every day just to say something to let them know they were on my mind.
They texted back.
But I’d called them both more than a couple of times since Mickey and my first date, and they always answered.
Except once, when I got Auden’s voicemail.
But then he’d called me back, getting mine, apologizing for not picking up and sharing things were going okay.
I was ecstatic, completely beside myself with joy.
About that.
But things with Mickey—being fast, heated, crazy and ending with me floating on air, only for them to stall almost completely—made me again feel leaden, carrying the weight of worry that something so exciting, so promising would end so soon after it began.
I couldn’t wait to see my babies that weekend.
But things with Mickey had gone from understandable to frustrating to irritating in a way I knew I was feeling that rather than concern that what seemed to be the beginning of happy would dwindle into nothing.
“Yes, I’m in a bad mood,” I told Lawr.
“Why?” he asked. “You said things were improving with the kids.”
“They are.”
“And you’ve found someone to spend time with.”
“I did. And that’s past tense.”