Lost in La La Land(72)

“Sure. Can you lay out the crackers to go with these dips. Did you ever try these?” She held a container of dip up. “It’s from Costco, I love it. The kids don't, so more for me.” She chuckled.

We set out food and when the guys came in to get some, Mike planted the biggest kiss on my lips, pinning me to him. “Don't get drunk, Em. I have plans for you later at the hotel,” he whispered in my ear.

“Take your own advice.” I bit his lip.

“I’ve been drinking the kids’ grape juice for hours. I’m getting a stomachache from it but that's about it.” He laughed and grabbed some food.

I put my glass down on the table and forgot it inside.

I wanted whatever his plans were.

At the end of the night, he drove us to the hotel. I had the window open, sticking my hand out in the warm summer air.

“They’re nice, huh?” Mike remarked, sort of randomly.

“The best.” I grinned wide.

“Did you know they split up for a while?” He puzzled, making me bring my arm in and close the window.

“What? No.”

“Yeah, the reason I got so drunk that night in New York, at the signing, was him. He came and kept me company while she went to the signing. He got hammered too and needed a walk back to the hotel a little early. On the walk over, he told me the story. She had an affair with some guy, some big shot from the city. She thought she was pregnant and he found the tests. I guess he got the snip-snip so he knew it wasn't his. They broke up for a while. He took the kids and she moved into the city for a bit. Came back about six months later and they got back together. Heavy counseling and shit, but back together. He still sounded crushed though. She would go like weeks without seeing the girls.”

“When was this?” My insides were on fire.

“I don't think he mentioned—”

“Don't lie!” I could smell the lie seeping from him. Liars always knew their own kind and Mike wasn't one of us.

“Right after you girls had your thing. I guess she had a bit of a crisis and it went downhill.”

“Oh my God.” I felt sick. I hadn’t imagined that my state and how I’d acted would have affected her. Typical villain. “She never told me.”

“Yeah, I assumed as much. I thought you should know. Maybe cut her some slack on the whole way she treated you before; she was obviously going through something.”

“You think I am offended by how she treated me?” I leaned away from him, wondering if he really knew me as well as I thought he did.

“No. I know you blame yourself for it all, but we all have self-preservation, Em. And yours is sometimes really good at pointing at the other people in the crowd and hinting at their blame so you don't feel as bad.”

He knew me. He knew me better than I knew myself.

“And you don't need to blame anyone else, or feel guilty about everything you've ever done in your whole life. No one is holding it against you, except you. And I suspect if you stopped counting them and holding them in such high regard, you’d forget your problems were even there. Maybe not always, but some of the time.” He reached over and rubbed my arm. “You think I hold myself hostage on every shitty thing I’ve ever done?”

“No?” I asked.

“No. I don't. I have a list a mile long of horrible shit I wish I could take back. Everyone does. I lost my virginity when I was sixteen to my neighbor because I knew she was in love with me and I just wanted to do it. She told me she loved me, and I didn't give half a shit about her. I screwed her and she told me she loved me again, and I said thanks and then I never talked to her after that. She was kinda easy so I thought why not?” He didn't sound as remorseful as he should. “My mom found out like five years ago and beat the hell outta me. She actually hit me with a wooden spoon, around the kitchen table, shouting like a madwoman. Over twenty years after the fact.” He outright laughed at that. “And truth be told, I deserved way worse. And that isn’t even one snowflake on the damned iceberg of bad things I’ve done. Your inability to deal with guilt is ridiculous. If I knew your parents in any way, I’d blame them. But your twice-a-year phone calls don't reveal much.” He laughed at me, doing that mocking thing I hated, where we laughed but really it was only him.

He pulled into the hotel and I lost my interest in whatever it was he wanted to do.

I couldn't believe Marguerite had gone through all that alone.

Her statement about being smug before, it meant so much more now. So did the wine and candy in the bathroom, alone.

My perfect friend with her perfect life and her perfect marriage wasn't so perfect.

I glanced over at Mike as he pursed his lips, checking for the valet slip before he handed over the keys. I smiled, seeing all the things I knew were flaws but loved him more for having them, even laughing at me for mine, which I hated. My annoyance dissolved.

“I love you,” I blurted.

“I know you do.” He turned and gave me that smile. “And I love you.”

I leaned in, giving him a soft kiss before hopping out when the attendant got my door.

Mike and I held hands up to the room, clinging to each other.

The sadness for my friend slowly lessened as we got there, but my passion for him didn't come around. I needed a hug and the ability to lay some of my troubles on him, if only for the night.