“Do tell.” He winked at me, and I wanted to leap across the table and show him.
This man made me feel unbalanced. One minute, I was down about Priscilla and therapy, and the next, I wanted to strip naked and fool around.
“Maybe that’s living?” I whispered aloud.
“Hmm?” Mick leaned forward again, his elbows on the table, the aforementioned forearms on display with his shirtsleeves rolled up.
“Sorry, my mind is all over the place. I was thinking that it’s so awkward to sit here and talk about Priscilla and therapy. Which, by the way, she still insists she’s fine and doesn’t need, but it’s a box I want to check.”
I reached for his hand, lacing our fingers together on top of the table.
“For the record, I agree it’s a box you should check,” Mick said.
“Yes, I’m the parent, and I think so.”
“I didn’t mean to derail you. Tell me. Me, Sheila, living? What’s it all mean?”
“Well, Sheila likes to dissect you when she sees you. Your arms,” I said, eyeing his beautiful arms. “And your backside.”
“Oh, really? Do you agree? Share the same view? Because, just so we’re clear, I’m not concerned with what Sheila thinks.”
“Well, I think you know I do, but that’s not the point. What I mean is, one minute I’m uber serious, and the next I’m dreaming of your body. To me it feels off-kilter, but maybe that’s really living?”
His hand abandoned mine and came to my chin, tipping my gaze toward his. “It is living, Mar. People who care for each other share the good, the bad, and the ugly. With no judgment or harsh consequences.”
I felt a tear starting to form in the corner of my eye.
“Don’t do that. You’re living, and it’s all good.” Swiping his thumb under my eye, he whispered, “When can I kiss you?”
“Not here. Later.”
“Let me walk you to your car, and maybe you’ll let me kiss you there,” Mick said while standing.
I didn’t feel like he was rushing me. He was simply making the point that we were living in the moment. Serious for a second, fun the next, and everything in between.
“Speaking of later,” Mick said, “tomorrow is going to be a good day. You know why? You’re going to cook at my place and bring Priss for a change of scenery. Can you send me a list of ingredients so Rochelle can get it all?”
Caught off guard with his spontaneous request, or more like, demand, I stammered, “Ah, are you sure? I can buy the stuff. And are you sure you want Priscilla? We haven’t really discussed it.”
“Come on, don’t play like that. Of course I want you both,” he said. With my hand still in his, he added, “Let’s drop this topic before it turns into a fight. Yes, I’m sure. End of discussion.”
We stepped outside holding hands, and Mick walked me to my car.
“Maybe I should get a convertible?” I asked as Mick pulled me into his arms. “Fits the midlife crisis I’m having.”
“You’re not having a midlife crisis, babe. You’re living, remember? Two very different things,” he whispered before running his lips along mine. “And now I’m kissing you.”
Making good on his promise, he pressed his lips to mine. A gentle kiss, yet full of promise. When he pulled back, I was breathless.
“I’m flying to New York and back tomorrow,” he said. “I have a quick meeting, then I’ll be back for dinner. Meet at my place at six?”
It should have felt heavy-handed, but it was different. Fun, lighthearted, just what I needed.
I was on my way to the lawyer now to sign the deed for our house. For one dollar, it was all mine, to do with as I wanted. What I wanted was to set it on fire—not really. I either wanted to drastically change it or sell it. It was one or the other, but first was therapy with Priscilla and making my own money, saving my settlement, and being independent.
Or maybe, first was another cup of coffee?
Margaret
