“Okay.”
“I’ll be back in two days and call?”
“Okay.”
“Night, Margo.”
“Night.”
I put aside my phone before crawling under the covers, forgoing brushing my teeth. The bed was cold, but I welcomed it. Chilly meant I was alone, that the heat of Tommy’s menace wasn’t next to me.
As I curled up into the cocoon of my robe, I lost myself in the chill.
Margaret
Aweek had passed since the awkward run-in with Mick, and the even more unsettling phone call that followed.
Currently, I was lost in my thoughts as I walked the aisles of Wegman’s, tossing things in my cart, thinking about the following night when I was supposed to meet Mick for sushi. As I placed two containers of half-and-half in the cart, I heard, “I can’t live without the stuff.”
It was a male’s voice, deep and baritone, and immediately brought to mind a different man’s rumbly voice. Mick had called the day before.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” the voice said.
This time, I looked up and met a pair of brown eyes I somewhat recognized.
“Dale. Dale Shuckey,” he said, introducing himself with a smile. “We’re on the gala committee for the school. My daughter, Annabeth, plays soccer with Priscilla.”
Smiling, I nodded. “Of course.”
“I should’ve led with that.” He laughed, shaking the container of half-and-half in his hand. “It’s good stuff.”
“I wouldn’t know. I’m more of an almond-milk gal.” I picked up a quart of almond milk from my cart and used my best Vanna White hand interpretation in front of it.
“Annabeth mentioned wanting to try almond milk. You like that brand?”
“Um, yes, I do.” Rolling my shoulders, relieving the strain from my crossbody bag, I stood there waiting for Dale to say something else, unsure of what to do.
“Oh, good. If she hears Priscilla’s mom recommends it, then it’s way better than if I do. You know, I’m learning this teen-girl thing on the fly,” he said with a small chuckle, yet I noticed a sadness in his eyes.
Jogging my memory for any details of Annabeth, I remembered she was Priscilla’s teammate who lost her mom back in kindergarten.
“Ugh, I’m sorry. I’m being rude. Caught up in my mind with all the things I have to do. This is a good brand.”
Dale’s smile faltered a little as understanding dawned on him. He’d realized I’d just remembered about his late wife.
“Hey, don’t. It’s cool. I’m doing the best I can.”
“You know what? I’m learning how to deal with teenage girls as I go too. It seems like every night I’m racking my brain to understand some new phenomenon or temper tantrum.”
He rolled his eyes. “And the social media. My Lord. My business uses all the apps, but I find myself calling our marketing person more and more to explain Tik this and Snap that.”
I tried to recall what Dale did for a living, but I couldn’t remember, but thought it was nice that he had the flexibility to buy his own half-and-half. For a moment, I wondered if when his wife was alive, he physically hurt her over half-and-half.
Pushing my hair behind my ear, I decided to stand in the dairy aisle and chat some more. It felt nice to do something pseudo-normal. Freeing. Like getting a drink with Mick.
Oh, Mick... And just like that, my thoughts returned to his handsome face and longish hair and his gentle hands.
Dragging my mind out of the bedroom, I told Dale, “Social media is my jam. That I have covered, much to Priscilla’s dismay, I’m sure.”
