Soaring (Magdalene #2)(94)

A woman had needs.

But he was not seeing to these needs for either of us.

So what was that all about?

The only good thing that came of the last two weeks (and it was a very good thing) was the fact that things were progressing with my own kids. Pippa had started high school, and I was anxious to know how she was handling that. But both of them were back to school, and I was just interested to know how things were going.

So I asked.

And they answered.

Their phones.

As in, not through texts.

I could not say the conversations lasted for hours and included them baring their souls to me, telling me they forgive me and explaining they wished to spend more time with me.

But I called, they answered, we chatted, it was amicable and relatively informative and the more it happened, the less stilted it became.

I did not push this. I texted every day just to say something to let them know they were on my mind.

They texted back.

But I’d called them both more than a couple of times since Mickey and my first date, and they always answered.

Except once, when I got Auden’s voicemail.

But then he’d called me back, getting mine, apologizing for not picking up and sharing things were going okay.

I was ecstatic, completely beside myself with joy.

About that.

But things with Mickey—being fast, heated, crazy and ending with me floating on air, only for them to stall almost completely—made me again feel leaden, carrying the weight of worry that something so exciting, so promising would end so soon after it began.

I couldn’t wait to see my babies that weekend.

But things with Mickey had gone from understandable to frustrating to irritating in a way I knew I was feeling that rather than concern that what seemed to be the beginning of happy would dwindle into nothing.

“Yes, I’m in a bad mood,” I told Lawr.

“Why?” he asked. “You said things were improving with the kids.”

“They are.”

“And you’ve found someone to spend time with.”

“I did. And that’s past tense.”

“Oh f*ck,” Lawr muttered. “You two already broke up?”

“I’d have to see him to break up with him and, again, I’m uncertain of the laws, this time of dating, but I would assume you’d actually have to see each other regularly, and, oh, I don’t know, maybe have sex at least once for a relationship deterioration to be considered a breakup.”

Lawr was silent.

“Did I lose you?” I called.

“You haven’t…” He sounded like he was being strangled. “You haven’t had sex with him?”

“No,” I snapped, slapping the top cookie on the frosted one and setting the sandwich aside, going on, “You’re a man, tell me. You have a sure thing you pretty much know is a sure thing across the street, would you sit on your couch and talk with her on your phone for half an hour before stating you’re wiped and need to go to bed? Or would you find your second wind, walk over and f*ck her dizzy?”

“Maybe you should talk to Robin about this,” Lawr suggested.

“Robin’s not a man,” I noted.

“So maybe you should talk about this to a man who is not me, a me who’s your brother.”

“Lawr, honestly?” I asked.

“Mariel and I have not had relations for over two months and the last time we had them it lasted ten minutes and I finished alone.”

I made a gag face that also included a gag noise my brother heard.

Thus Lawr continued, “Do you wanna talk about sex with your brother?”

“Maybe not,” I conceded.

“Right. Call Robin,” he ordered.

“She’s at her new Pilates class.”

There was a moment of silence before Lawr begged, “Please tell me she’s not—”

“She is,” I interrupted him to confirm. “The lover of her ex-husband’s soon-to-be-ex-wife is her new instructor. She says the class is magnificent. The instructor knows who she is. They go for chai teas after and the other one meets them. They’re all bonding over mutual hatred.”

“Jesus Christ,” Lawr muttered.

“It’s actually quite healthy.”

“It’s nutty, like that woman is,” Lawr returned. “And she’s been burned badly enough, she shouldn’t court more.”

“She’s healing, Lawrie,” I said softly. “Let her do it her way.”

There was another moment of silence before Lawr said, “Right.”

I scrunched another sandwich together and replied, “I should probably let you go.”

And I should let him go because he had to get going.

I had an evening of nothing ahead of me.

“Yeah. I’ll let you know about Thanksgiving.”

“That’d be great, Lawrie. Hope the rest of your day goes well.”

“Yours too, sweetheart. And MeeMee?”

“Yes?”

“Slow is not bad,” he said gently.

He was right. Slow probably wasn’t bad.

Crawling to a virtual stand-still wasn’t all that hot, however.

I didn’t share that.

I said, “Thanks, Lawrie.”