Soaring (Magdalene #2)(75)
Author: Kristen Ashley

“Lawrie—” I started.

“It’s got to be done,” he told me.

I scrunched the top cookie on and set them aside, asking, “Why?”

“Because I have to tell myself, and my sons, that I did all I could do.”

I shut my mouth but I did it fuming.

He was correct. He should do that so he could live with whatever came of this, but also so his boys could see him giving it one last go with their mother before hopefully he made the decision to leave his wife and find some happy.

But I hated the idea of whatever that witch would put him through in the meantime, including during those sessions.

I mean socks?

Really?

“So, if you’re committed to this, then I take it Thanksgiving is out,” I remarked, irately snatching up another cookie.

“I talked with Mariel about going. We’re considering it.”

I threw up a little in my mouth at the thought of the Wicked Witch of Santa Barbara tainting my whimsical, beachy guest bedroom with her malevolence.

When I powered past that, I declared, “If she’s coming, I’m inviting Robin. Her ex has her kids this Thanksgiving. She’d be all over it.”

“MeeMee,” Lawr stated irritably.

“Mercer and Hart love Robin,” I reminded him, and they did. My nephews thought she was a hoot.

“She drives Mariel up the wall,” he reminded me.

“Of course she does, due to all the sexual tension that’s crackling between her husband and a beautiful, vital woman who’s learned how it feels to have a jerk break her heart so she’ll know it’s worth any effort needed to make a good man happy.”

“You do realize you, and Robin, lost your minds when your husbands cheated on you and now you’re attempting to set me up with your best friend right under my wife’s nose.”

I didn’t care what it said about me that this didn’t cause me the slightest unease.

And I explained to my brother why, “I’d have qualms about that if your wife gave indication she’s still breathing. Heck, if she gave indication she was still human. I’m uncertain of the law, you’d know better, but I don’t think you can cheat on the undead whose sole purpose on this earth is to spread evil. In fact, I’m uncertain your marriage is even valid. Can you pledge your troth to a vampire?”

“Christ, you’re in a bad mood,” Lawr observed, and I could hear the humor in his voice, which made me settle more firmly in my belief he needed to leave his wife. No man who still loved his spouse would allow anyone, even his little sister, to talk that badly about them.

But he wasn’t wrong. I was in a bad mood.

A very bad mood.

And this was because, according to me, things with Mickey were not going very well.

And this was because we had not had sex, something that was admittedly hard to do since I rarely saw Mickey.

It started off so promising and continued that way…for two days.

The first, dinner at my house, had changed to dinner at Mickey’s because Ash wanted to cook something, wanted me to help, and she knew her kitchen so felt more comfortable in it.

Of course, I went over there. It wasn’t hard. It was just walking across the street.

And I’d had fun cooking with Ash.

But it was more. Me being there before her dad got home from work was me being an adult and taking some of the onus off her taking care of her family since she watched her brother while her dad was away. She also liked female company it was plain to see, and while we cooked and chatted, we bonded. She came out of her shell a little bit, lost some of her timidity, and we’d had a marvelous time.

Mickey got home and it got better, mostly because he was Mickey and he was home. But also because this wasn’t a formal dinner gathering. It was an informal gathering of family having dinner. We ate Ash’s meal in front of the TV, Mickey doing this sitting beside me. He was not demonstrative, something I agreed with as it was too soon for that in front of his kids, but he sat by me and it was a thrill to feel the heat of his thigh pressed to mine and have him close, even if he wasn’t really touching me.

When that was done, he walked me home and we made out behind my closed front door, doing it hot and heavy.

He ended it, saying, “Gotta get back or those two’ll know what we’re up to.”

Again, appropriate.

Again, I agreed on this propriety.

But also disappointing.

During our dinner, we’d made arrangements for the kids to go with me to Dove House the next day, which happened the way it did before: Mickey dropping them off and picking them up. The kids had been just as helpful and charming and the residents and staff again had enjoyed having them around just as much as the first time.

But this was when it started going bad.

Understandably, Mickey couldn’t spend all his time with me when he had his kids or shove me down their throat constantly.

This began our days of brief phone conversations where we said absolutely nothing, their entire purpose, from what I could tell, was reminding each other we knew the other existed.

There were also texts, which were obviously briefer.

Then Aisling and Cillian went back to their mother, something that surprised me considering her behavior that week. I thought he would keep them or at least have words with her about what she’d done, warning her that couldn’t happen again, especially if they were with her, and what might happen if she did.

Mickey didn’t explain this decision to me and I didn’t ask about it because it wasn’t my place. It concerned me, but it wasn’t my place to share this either. They were his kids not mine, and he knew Rhiannon and all the history, I didn’t. So I kept quiet.

I learned the week he didn’t have his kids just how crazy his life was, juggling work he hated, kids back and forth and volunteering as a fireman.

I learned this because he had no time for me.

He did most of his evening shifts at the firehouse when the kids weren’t with him. He made up paid work for Ralph for day shifts he did at the firehouse both when he had his kids and when he didn’t. And all this meant he had no time left over.

Since the diner was just down from the firehouse, he had asked me to meet him at Weatherby’s for dinner one night that week, something I did. Something that lasted for an hour before Mickey had to get back. Something that ended with me not even getting a kiss.

And he’d had one other night off before he got the kids back. A night where we talked on the phone, even though he was on his couch in a house across the street from mine, and I was in my fabulous armchair in a house across the street from his.