A child that he didn’t want.
A child that I had to convince him that he could have. Who could be healthy. Who could be a good person, just like he was. Whether he wanted to admit he was a good man or not.
“You love him,” she confirmed, nodding her head. “Good. He’s a good man.”
See? I knew he was.
“I know,” I told her. “He’s a really good man.”
“He’s a sap for a little kid, though. As you can see, he’s collecting them once again,” she said with a snicker. “A year or so ago, he saved a little boy from a car crash, and stayed with him for four hours while he was cut out of a car. Now Jackson is Michael’s biggest fan. They still hang out with each other every once in a while. Hell, he’s Reggie’s best friend. He’s all she talks about sometimes.”
That knowledge that he loved kids gave me hope.
I’d already known that, of course, but it was good to have it reiterated.
“How old is Reggie?” I asked, gathering up Michael’s clothes and boots and putting them into a trash bag that Hannah had magically produced out of a planter/secret hiding spot between two chairs on her porch.
“She’s two and a half, going on eighteen,” Hannah laughed. “She’s Michael’s little mini-me. Imitates everything Michael does, and it drives my ex-husband bonkers. I love it.”
I laughed with her.
Which was how Michael found us.
He wasn’t in a bad mood any longer.
No, he was in a great mood.
Which he proved when he said, “I like it when my two favorite girls get along, smiling and laughing.”
I gave him a thumbs up. “Well, we were laughing at you. Does that make you feel any different?”
He shook his head in the negative.
“No, it doesn’t. As long as you’re getting along,” he announced.
I raised a brow at him, studying his attire.
He was in a black pair of jogging shorts that were seriously too tight on him, mostly because I could make out the outline of his cock through the shorts. And although it was a very nice outline, it wasn’t something I wanted the world to be seeing.
His shirt wasn’t much better, but at least it was something.
I was happy to see his tattoos in the daylight, though.
Normally, I only got to see him when we were at his house or mine. And it was only in the privacy of our bedroom.
Michael wasn’t like normal men.
He didn’t go without a shirt. He always had one on. Always.
Unless he was going to bed or getting out of the shower.
“Why wouldn’t we get along?” I asked curiously.
Hannah was the one to answer.
“Joslin and I didn’t get along. At all. She was selfish and stuck up. She also hated the fact that I called her on her shit when I picked up ER rotations. Something she really, really didn’t like,” she answered.
“Ahh,” I said. “That makes sense. She hates me because I do that, too.”
Hannah grinned. “Looks like we have a ton of stuff in common. And guess what! We can gang up on her at family dinners and Christmases! Because my big brother is being stupid and marrying the cheating hoe!”
Michael’s head tilted to the side. “How’d you know she cheated?”
Hannah looked at him as if he were stupid. “Michael, baby brother dear, I’m not stupid. I work in the same hospital she does. And her stink doesn’t just stay on the ground floor. It permeates to all the floors. Trust me.”
I had to agree.
Joslin was somewhat famous.
She was the hoe of the hospital, and everyone knew it.
They may not know her by sight, but they knew her by name, and that name wasn’t really pretty.
“They call her Whoreslin instead of Joslin,” Hannah informed him.
He blinked.
“And she’s alright with that?” He asked in disbelief.
My eyebrows shot up.
“She doesn’t know she’s called that,” I told him.