A Different Kind of Forever(18)

People were beginning to move. She felt a tug on her sleeve. Megan was reaching over.

“Mom, are we going backstage?”

“Yes. Wait for the guy. Yes, we’ll go.” Her breathing was returning to normal. She fingered the pass around her neck. In minutes, the arena had become chaotic. She was being pushed, jostled. They waited ten, fifteen minutes. She saw the security guard waving to her. She and Sue herded the girls together, and they followed him as he shouldered effortlessly through the crowds. They went around to the side of the stage, then through a series of doors, until they were in a long corridor. There were people everywhere, all with passes dangling from their necks. They turned a corner, and there was Michael.

He was leaning against the wall, his head tilted back as he drank from a large bottle of water, a white towel draped across one shoulder. A man was standing beside him, talking intently. Michael pulled the water bottle away from his face and the water spilled over his face and neck. The man was still talking, but Michael was shaking his head, turning away from him. He caught sight of Diane. He smiled and wiped his face with the towel.

“Hey.” His body seemed drained, his face white and pinched. “You all have fun?”

Diane took a deep breath, smiled and put her arm around Emily. “These are my daughters, Emily and Megan.” Megan crowded against her mother’s side

“Hello. I’m Michael,” he said easily. They immediately started talking. They gushed about the show, the music. They introduced their friends. Sue Griffen stood quietly, watching her friend. Diane’s eyes never left Michael. He did not look at her, just concentrated on the young girls, flirting just a little. He could really work a crowd, Sue thought. It also seemed to her that he was very aware of Diane, and when he finally turned to her, their eyes met and Sue could feel a jolt. Holy shit, she thought to herself.

“Come on back.” His voice was very light. “There are a bunch of people here, lots of food.” He reached toward Diane, his hand catching her arm, sliding up to her shoulder. Sue pursed her lips. Michael moved his hand to the small of Diane’s back, and they walked into a noisy, crowded room, people everywhere, and the smell of food. The girls bunched together, and Sue moved them toward a long table set against a back wall, laden with platters and steam trays.

Diane felt his hand on her back. She half turned toward him and rested her hand lightly against his chest.

“You look exhausted,” she said softly. “Are you sure you want us here?”

His eyes focused on her sharply. “Yes, I want you here. What did you think of the show?” His eyes were very close and serious. His hand left her back, and he was running his fingers lightly down the back of her arm. Diane’s hand went to the collar of his shirt, and she brushed her fingers across the smooth V of skin at his neck.

“You were fantastic. I never thought it would be so much fun.” She broke into a grin. “The music was amazing, and you’re a great storyteller, Michael. And talking to Meg and Emily like that, it was very generous of you.” She moved slightly, and now she was facing him squarely, their eyes level, and as she spoke, she pressed the palms of her hands against his chest, and she could feel the pounding of his heart, the heat of his skin through the damp fabric of his shirt.

“Generosity had nothing to do with it.” His hand was under her blazer, resting on her hip. He pulled her closer. She touched his lower lip with her finger tip. It was full and very soft. He was smiling at her, looking tired and very young.

“I was scoring points. I figured if I did good, maybe I could see you sometime tomorrow.”

Diane felt her heart start to race. “I would love to see you tomorrow.”

“I’ve got some stuff to do, but I’ll call.” He had dropped his hands from her and put them into his front pockets. Our faces were too close, she thought. She didn’t want her daughters to see. But she did not step away.

“I thought about you a lot this week,” she said.

“I thought about you, too. Your friend Sue seems nice.” Michael said. His breath warmed her ear and neck, and her hand plucked the front of his shirt. “So, no boyfriend?”

“No boyfriend. The men my age seem to want women who are, well, your age.”

He laughed softly. “Then men your age are fools.” He reached to brush the fall of bangs from her forehead. His fingers trailed through her hair, touching her cheek, and when she turned her head, he held the curve of her face in his hand.