Soaring (Magdalene #2)(59)
Author: Kristen Ashley

“I broke up with him last night, Ash.”

Her gaze cut to me.

I shrugged, going for casually. “We just didn’t click.”

“Sorry,” she mumbled.

“Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t,” I told her quietly.

“Yeah.”

She wanted me with her dad.

I liked that. It felt nice.

And it was scary.

“I’m going out paintball gear shopping,” I told her. “I’ll see you later?”

She nodded.

“’Bye, sweets.”

“’Bye, Amy.”

I turned and walked to my house. When I got there, I went to my laptop and looked up where I could find paintball gear. The closest place was at a shop in a bigger town that was forty-five minutes away.

I headed there, stocked up with everything the clerks told me any paintball aficionado would need or even want and stopped by a Target on the way home to get a card and gift wrapping.

When I got home, I wrapped the gifts and took them over, handing them off to Aisling but not bothering Cillian again.

She gave me a small grin and thanked me.

I gave her a big smile and went home.

Through this, Boston Stone called again.

But Mickey did not call me.

* * * * *

It was late and I was on a stool at my bar with a glass of wine and my laptop.

And Mickey still had not called me.

It was a struggle. It made me feel selfish to an extreme. I had no idea what effort you had to put into dealing with kids who were dealing with the ugly fact their mother was an alcoholic, but I suspected that took a lot of effort.

It still hurt that after all that had happened, after that kiss, Mickey hadn’t found time in his day even to text me.

I sent an update, how’s-it-going email to my parents, who had not replied or phoned since my last email, but I couldn’t let that bother me.

It was what it was. They were who they were. I couldn’t change them and I wasn’t going to allow them to change me. Not anymore.

So whatever would be with that would just have to be.

I was trolling Internet sites, trying to get a lock on or even an idea of the perfect dining room table when my phone sounded.

I snatched it up then pulled up the texts excitedly to read an out of the blue text from my son.

Heads up, Pip tried out for the cheerleading squad. She didn’t make it. She isn’t happy.

I was elated to have news about my kids. I was beside myself my son had shared this with me without anything from me prompting him to do so.

I was upset at the news.

I didn’t know much about my children but I knew Pip had been living to be a freshman cheerleader. I also knew, having her heart set on that, she’d worked at it and she liked to get what she wanted.

Not getting it, she’d be devastated.

I texted back, Thanks for the heads up, kid.

Then I went to an online flower site and ordered a bouquet to be sent to my daughter the next day that had a card that said, You’re awesome. Love you. Mom.

It was all I could do, but even though it wouldn’t help much, my baby girl loved flowers so I hoped it’d do something.

I was putting away my credit card when my phone rang.

Hoping it was Mickey, I snatched it up.

It wasn’t Mickey. It was Robin.

Vying for best call I could get that day, I’d take that and I did.

“Hey, gorgeous,” I answered.

“You have five minutes to give me ten reasons not to cut you out completely when you blew me off almost completely,” she replied.

I drew in a breath.

Then I took far more than five minutes and gave her all I could give her. Everything about me; all my epiphanies, all I was thinking, maybe being an idiot about our friendship, Mom and Dad, Lawr, Conrad, the kids, Martine, Josie and her brood, Alyssa and her brood, Aisling, Cillian, Boston Stone, Bradley…and Mickey.

I’d drained my wine and topped it up through all this talking.

And when I was done, the wine doing nothing, I was tense at her response, which was a shocking, “You got highlights without me?”

“Er…yes,” I replied hesitantly.

There was silence.

“Robin—” I began.

She interrupted me, “Girl, if you were ready to move on, I could be the bestie who moved on with you. I can do havoc. I can also not.”

“I know, but—”

“But whatever,” she cut me off. “I understand where you’re coming from but you knew me before both our lives imploded. You knew you’d get anything from me that you needed.”

She was right.

And I was an idiot.

“I’m sorry, Robin, I was just…I guess in all the rights I was trying to make, I made some wrongs.”

“Uh, yeah you did,” she agreed and I tensed again but found I did it for no reason when she continued, “But whatever. You’re moving on. You got a hottie next door who’s a good kisser and he kisses you. Your kids are finally pulling their heads out of their asses. And I got huge news for you.”

I couldn’t quite believe it because there it was. That was it. I explained, Robin listened and that was done.

Though I should have believed it.

She was right. She wasn’t all about retribution and mayhem.

She was mostly about friendship and loyalty and that started but didn’t stop when the retribution and mayhem began.

In protecting myself I’d overprotected myself.

And once I’d figured that out and admitted it, Robin, being Robin, let that be.

I decided to do the same, settled in, grabbed my wine and before taking a sip, asked, “And that is?”

“I’m moving on too.”

I nearly choked on my wine, accomplished not doing this, and sputtered, “I’m sorry?”

“Get this,” she demanded. “That Pilates instructor my ex-ass left me for left him for a Pilates instructor too. And that instructor is a she.”

I felt my eyes get huge right before I burst out laughing.

“No,” I forced through my laughter.

“Yes,” she said gleefully. “My ex-ass drove his tight body bitch right into the arms of a tight bodied bitch. Isn’t that fabulous?”

“It so is,” I agreed.

“Everyone is talking about it. He’s so humiliated he’s taken leave and is hiding at my ex-house on Coronado.”

“That’s brilliant, Robin,” I told her.

“I know,” she replied. “And I got more.” Her voice changed when she said, “But this might not be so brilliant.”