IT TOOK A LONG TIME FOR THE PARTY TO WIND DOWN. Mick’s family and friends could party all night long, but this time the venue hadn’t been booked for the duration of the evening, so they’d moved everybody out of the ballroom by midnight. As a gift to Mick’s parents, the kids had gotten them a suite at a very posh resort, so they’d already packed up and headed over there for a night in the honeymoon suite. Nathan was spending the night with Mick’s cousins again, which meant Tara and Mick had his parents’ house to themselves for the night.
Tara ran upstairs and changed, grateful to get out of her sole-killing high heels and the tight dress. She slid into a pair of shorts and a tank top, then came back downstairs to find Mick had done the same thing. He’d shucked the suit and put on a pair of to-the-knee cotton gym shorts and a sleeveless tank.
“Better?” he asked.
She sighed in relief. “My feet were killing me, so yes, definitely better.” She sank onto the sofa next to him.
“Want something to drink?” he asked.
“No, I’m good. How about you? Want a beer or something?”
There was something odd about the way he looked at her. “Have a bottled water here, so I’m fine.”
“Okay.”
She propped her elbow up on the back of the sofa and leaned her head in her hand.
“Tired?”
“I’m okay. How about you? You’re the one who ran ragged all day taking Nathan to the ball game and keeping him entertained so I could get everything set up. And then you helped with the party.”
“I didn’t organize the party. You did. And Nathan is never a problem, so stop apologizing for your son.”
“I wasn’t—”
“You do. A lot.”
She sat up. “Do I?”
“Yes. You make Nathan sound like an inconvenience to me, and he isn’t. If he was, I wouldn’t be with you. I knew almost from the beginning that he was a part of your life, Tara. I get that he’s part of the package, so stop apologizing for his existence.”
Tears sprang to her eyes. That’s what she’d been doing? Oh, God, it was. She’d been apologizing for Nathan, for having him, for him being in her life. “You’re right. I have been. I’m sorry.”
Mick swiped at a tear that had escaped down her cheek. “You don’t have to apologize to any man that you have a son. He’s a great kid. You owe no one explanations or apologies for your life.”
She shuddered out a sigh. “I guess you’re right. I keep holding up other people’s childhoods and lives as examples of the perfection that I always found lacking in my own.”
“No one’s life is perfect, Tara. Not yours, not mine, no one’s.”
“So you say. Hard to see the imperfections through all the happiness sometimes.”
“You see what people want you to see, not what’s necessarily there.”
“You’re telling me your life wasn’t perfect. I find that hard to believe.”
He leaned back against the sofa and shoved his fingers through his hair. “There’s something I want to ask you. It has to do with Nathan.”
“Okay.”
“I’d like your permission to take him to a meeting with me when we get back home. I think it would be beneficial for him.”
“A meeting? What kind of meeting?”
“An AA meeting.”
Tara’s eyes widened. “Alcoholics Anonymous? Are you serious?”
“Yes.”
“Why would you want him to go to an AA meeting? Nathan’s not an alcoholic. As far as I know, that was his first foray into drinking.”
“Did you talk to him about that night?”
“Yes. Of course I did. He understands what he did was wrong. And he felt terrible.”
Mick’s lips lifted. “Of course he felt terrible. He had a hangover. But that’s how it starts, Tara. One party, a lot of drinks. It’s social. It’s how they get accepted. Often it doesn’t stop there. I’d like him to see some cold reality.”
“I think that’s a little harsh, Mick.”
“Yeah, it is harsh. But it’s real. It’s not glossed over, and it’s not a sit-down lecture from his mother that he probably only half paid attention to. It’s never too early for them to hear what it’s really like when drinking gets out of control.”
“What do you know about AA?”
“Plenty.”
She cocked her head to the side and frowned. The way he looked at her, cold and straightforward ...
Then it hit her. “You don’t drink alcohol.”
His gaze never left her face. “No.”
“It has nothing to do with training, does it?”
“No.”
Her throat went dry as the realization of all these weeks together finally fell into focus. Her palms dampened, and she pulled her legs behind her, straightened herself up, and prepared herself for the truth. But she waited, not asking, knowing it had to come from Mick.
“I’m an alcoholic, Tara.”
The gut punch hurt. She palmed her stomach, was glad she was sitting, because the room spun. “How long?”
“Since I was a teenager. Still think I lived a perfect life?”
She didn’t know if she was angry or hurt, at him or for him. She forced back the anger because she needed to know, and because he had the guts to sit here and face her with the truth. She reached out to grasp his hand. “Tell me.”