Soaring (Magdalene #2)(87)

Not to mention, my dress was far more stylish than her skirt and blouse and my shoes kicked her shoes’ ass.

The hairs on my neck eased.

“Fuck,” Mickey grunted.

“Honey,” I called and Mickey looked to me. “Thanks for ripping apart my meal.”

It was my way of saying this was him and me, our first date, our time, and Conrad and Martine were not going to ruin it.

He studied me before his eyes warmed and his face grew soft and when they did, I knew he heard me.

“Anytime, Amy.”

I grinned.

Then I looked down and picked up my cracker to dig into my lobster claws.

* * * * *

I was stuffed by the time we were done, and thankful, in an effort to get me eating, Mickey didn’t push dessert because I couldn’t have done it.

But I would have wanted to do it.

For him.

I’d also had three glasses of wine, the meal being delicious, the company better, and I’d found that I’d been anxious all day for nothing.

There were no awkward pauses. There was no searching for conversation. There was no panic about trying to be interesting.

Mickey and I had already laid the groundwork. We knew about each other and each other’s lives. He teased. I reacted. We talked about kids and jobs and family and life and it came easy. There was much to learn but it was being discovered freely and naturally.

Mickey was good company.

And most important of all, he made it clear he felt the same with me.

In fact, when I’d communicated that Martine and Conrad did not exist, they actually ceased to exist.

So the end of the dinner was just the same as the beginning.

Free and natural and all about Mickey and me.

I was surprised but not averse when, after we left the restaurant, Mickey didn’t guide me to his truck but instead to the street where he walked us across hand in hand to the wharf. He then walked us down the wharf to the end.

I hadn’t been there yet but I liked being there. I could smell the sea, feel the cool air calming me along with the three glasses of wine, and I could hear the tranquil, muted sounds of the bells on the buoys.

Better still was when we reached the end, Mickey turned my back to him and curled his arms around my midriff, pulling me to his heat.

“Ever think of leaving Magdalene, just walk right here and you’ll think you’re crazy,” he murmured and his words made me relax against him.

Belly filled with delicious seafood, mind settled by a great date with Mickey, standing there with the smells and sounds, I took that moment to take in the sights.

Magdalene was built into a set of coves, the town proper in the longest of them. The coastline rose up gray and black rocky cliffs that were partially bare and dark right then, but in the light the tops were forested with trees. However, quite a bit of it was taken with homes, their faint lights in the shadowed structures giving the view a magical feel.

This was augmented by the charming lighthouse flashing its light from where the structure was built on a sharp jut of land to the north. Not to mention Josie and Jake’s Lavender House, which was a feature of Magdalene’s coastline. It was large and picturesque and now its windows were lit, indicating the family inside was up and active, doing things together, carrying on the tradition of love and family, why that house was built.

I couldn’t see Cliff Blue, which was built up high over a small cove, so it was hidden. But I wondered then how the coastline looked from the sea.

It was likely fabulous.

There were sounds of cars driving down the street behind us, but this wasn’t constant.

No, the constant was the bells of the buoys and the waves lapping against the shore and slapping against the planks of the wharf, peaceful, easy beauty.

I wrapped my arms around his at my midriff and leaned back into him. “I can see why you’d never leave.”

“Want for my kids whatever they want,” he stated. “I’d be happy as long as they’re happy. But I hope, if they take off, when they come back and I bring them right here, wherever life took them, they’d know in their bones that standing right here was the only place that was home.”

I loved what he said but feeling Mickey, looking at the view, smelling the smells and hearing the sounds off Magdalene’s wharf, having lived the life I lived, it occurred to me I’d never had a home.

Not a real one.

I thought I did, with my husband, my family, until Conrad tore it away from me.

And I wanted a home.

A home that looked like that, smelled like that, sounded like that and felt like it felt to stand there in Mickey’s arms.

Lulling me with that beauty, Mickey went for it.

He did it gently.

But he did it.

“You’re not ready, Amy, then you decide the time. But you’re eventually gonna have to share how he got your kids from you, baby.”

I felt every inch of me grow solid and Mickey didn’t miss it, couldn’t, and his arms grew snug around me.

He also dipped his head so his jaw was no longer resting against the side of my hair and he said in my ear, “If this is not the time, it’s not. But I’ll say now, this is what this feels like it might be, you gotta learn there’s no safer place than in my arms and when you’re here, Amy,” his arms gave me a squeeze, “you can give me anything.”

I closed my eyes.