A Family Affair(51)

“Oh, Michael, that’s not necessary, really. I called the yard and pool people and they’re on top of it. And I’m not going to be home today. I’m driving up to the wine country with a friend.”

“A friend? Who?”

“Someone I’ve known for years. From work. I don’t plan to be home until early evening. Do you need me, honey?”

“No,” he said. “No, of course not. I just wanted to help out.”

“That’s so thoughtful,” Anna said. “Don’t you have a practice or game or something?”

“No, we had a game last night. We won.”

“Congratulations! I’m sorry I missed it! I’ll make it a point to see the next one. Why don’t you take a day off. That’s what I’m doing. The last few weeks have been so intense.”

“Good idea,” he said. “But if you need anything done, you’ll let me know?”

“Of course, sweetheart. I’ll talk to you later. Maybe tomorrow?”

“Perfect,” he said.

But Michael’s life was anything but perfect. He was miserable. If it wasn’t bad enough he was grieving the loss of his dad, he had broken off with Jenn and she had disappeared. Michael tried to remember what he thought the result of breaking up would be and it was nothing like what had actually happened. He thought he had been doing the difficult but noble thing by breaking up, setting them both on a path of starting over, but that wasn’t what happened. Jenn was angry and out of patience, which he now realized was just what he deserved. He’d been an idiot, letting a woman he cared so deeply about get away.

He parked his SUV in front of his mother’s house, thinking about what to do next. After a long mental study of his emotions, he got out of the car and opened up the garage. It looked pretty good, since he’d done a serious cleaning and trash hauling just a couple of weeks ago. He let himself into the house; everything was tidy and in order—no dishes in the sink, the bed made, his mother’s briefcase and laptop and some files on the breakfast bar, a sight he’d grown accustomed to.

He peeked in his dad’s office. It was stripped. The desk dominated the room, there were still books on the shelves, but it was apparent it was no longer in use. He pulled out a couple of built-in file drawers and saw that they had been cleaned out except for those that belonged to Anna—her retirement, her insurance, her bank statements. Everything for Chad McNichol or Chad and Anna seemed to be gone. For the first time he asked himself why his mother’s work files and laptop were still in the kitchen when there was a beautiful office available.

His first thought was, My mom has it all under control. His next thought was, She sure adjusted quickly to Dad being dead.

He sat on the couch and called Jenn. His call went to voice mail. Again. “Hey, Jenn, are we ever going to actually talk? Because I don’t like the way we left things. I’d like to talk about a few things. I think I’m even more messed up than before and maybe this is all a big mistake. I think I have a few things to explain. I don’t think we’re done with this yet. Maybe I was premature and there are things to work out, but if you won’t even take my calls how can we ever work anything out? So, how about you call me back this time? Or maybe text me or something? Or maybe you were just ready to break up and this is this easy way?”

Of course he immediately regretted it. It was entirely his fault and he knew it. He had been panicked, worried that he could never be the kind of awesome family man his dad had been and was afraid to commit. Because what if he had kids who loved and needed him and he died? Who would take care of them then? He wasn’t a PhD and Jenn wasn’t a judge! Money was tight between them. What if he had a couple of adorable little kids, a gorgeous sexy wife and went skiing and bam! Hit a tree!

The chime on his phone rang. He had a text.

You want to talk?
Yes! I know I messed up but I really miss you.
Do you want to come over for dinner? To talk?
Oh, he really did. He texted her back that that would be good and she told him to be at her condo at seven. He arrived early and sat in the parking lot until the appointed time, but when he got to her door, he had lost all his cool. He realized he should have stopped to buy her flowers, but he hadn’t. When she opened the door, he snatched her up in his arms and devoured her with a kiss so hot and hungry there was no time for talking. He was so overcome he could barely get in and close the door.

This was one of the things that ate at him—that they were so right for each other. As he held her face in his hands he was overwhelmed by passion. From the sounds she made, she was just as gone. He could vaguely smell the aroma of something Italian and noticed a long baguette on the counter, but couldn’t stop from hugging her, kissing her, pulling at her clothes and walking her backward toward her bedroom. “God, I missed you...” he mumbled.

“Missed me? Or missed this?” she asked.

“It’s all the same,” he said. “I can’t have this with anyone but you!”

“Michael...” she said in a breath. And she pulled his shirt free of his jeans.

For several blissful minutes they worked at freeing each other from their clothes without ever breaking their kisses, then fell onto the bed and rolled around, filling their hands and mouths with every essence of their bodies. They strained together, wanting each other madly. They whispered of missing each other as they came together frantically, their passion powerful and demanding.