Soaring (Magdalene #2)(175)

He ended it and said, “Talk to you tomorrow, baby.”

He then set me back so he could open the door and he was through it before I called, “Mickey!”

He turned to me.

“You gotta know too,” I said.

He stood there, almost right where I’d first seen him, looking more beautiful than ever.

Because he was mine. All mine. Truly mine.

Every inch.

Straight down to his heart.

“You gotta know I love you too,” I went on. “You’re the best man I’ve ever met, honey. A great dad. A good man.” I smiled. “The best neighbor ever.”

I watched his eyes dance at the last but I wasn’t done.

“There was no better day than the day Conrad showed up and started shouting at me, because it brought you to me.”

His lips curled up. “Only time I was glad some * was in a woman’s face.”

My lips curled up too.

Then they started trembling so I pressed them together.

“Right across the street,” Mickey whispered.

I pressed my lips together harder and nodded.

He gave me an easy grin, “Luck o’ the Irish.”

I started giggling.

His eyes kept dancing.

Then they warmed and he ordered, “Get inside, baby. Get warm. Talk to you tomorrow.”

Like I wasn’t already warm.

Through and through.

“Okay, Mickey. Goodnight.”

“’Night, babe.”

It was then I realized I didn’t mind “babe” at all. Or “darlin’.” Or “baby.”

I’d take anything from Mickey.

Because he meant it.

I lifted my hand to touch it to my lips and drifted it out to him.

Then grinning at him like an idiot (and not caring), I closed the door on the man who loved me.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Awesome Holiday

“I should believe it. I really should. But I don’t believe that man.”

I was in my kitchen, banging around bitching.

This was because it was eleven thirty Thanksgiving morning and the kids were supposed to spend the night last night at my place, seeing as Lawr had arrived yesterday morning. But also so they could help me get things ready for the day.

Conrad had spoken to them and, for some reason, which I could read was not great, they’d changed plans and said they had to spend the night at their dad’s.

However, they promised they’d be at my place by ten because the day had been precisely timed.

The house was clean, that wasn’t a worry.

But there was cooking and baking and table laying to do. They were supposed to help me get most of that sorted so when Mickey and his kids showed up at twelve thirty, we could watch football and relax without too much running around. However, there wouldn’t be much of that since dinner was supposed to happen at two so it wasn’t a rush since they were going to Rhiannon’s at four.

It was perfectly timed. Football on, something to take folk’s attention but things to do together to give opportunities to mingle. Then good food with good company. And before it went on too long, Mickey and his brood had to go to Rhiannon’s so everyone could be let off the hook and they could relax (which I hoped wasn’t necessary but I felt it necessary to plan).

The kids being that late was throwing me off. In fact, the kids not spending the night had thrown me off. I could have no idea but I wouldn’t put it past Conrad to know what was happening with Mickey this Thanksgiving, or that Lawr was going to be there, so he was trying to ruin it for me.

I didn’t like Auden’s tone when he phoned and said they needed to stay with their dad. He didn’t share much and seemed distracted but he also seemed something…else.

I just couldn’t get a lock on it.

And again, he didn’t share it with me.

I’d asked but he’d said, “We’ll talk later, Mom,” in a way he needed me to talk with him about it later.

So I decided, for my boy, to let it go.

Now, it was worse not only because they were late but also, except for a quick text from Auden that said simply, We’re gonna be late. Sorry. I’d had nothing. I gave it half an hour then I’d texted. I’d phoned.

I’d received no reply.

My kids were not impolite. Since our reunion, this kind of thing didn’t happen. They might not reply immediately, but they replied.

Knowing they were late, they’d reply at the very least so I wouldn’t worry.

I snatched up my cell, declaring, “I’m gonna call him.”

“Sweetheart,” Lawr said, reaching out a hand to wrap it around my wrist. “Don’t.”

I looked up at him. “There are pies to be baked!” I snapped.

He lifted his brows and looked down at the pie crust he was rolling out (always there for me, my big brother Lawrie).

“We need to bake three of them, Lawrie,” I reminded him.

“And they’ll get baked,” he replied.

I looked to the crust and mumbled, “I should have made them yesterday.”

And I should have, though I didn’t know how I could have, what with spending half the day baking and decorating Thanksgiving-themed cupcakes to take to Dove House, where, after Mickey left, Lawr, the kids and I were going.