Mike, Mike & Me

by Wendy Markham

  Websync.

  As in HappyNappy64@websync.net.

  Or Beauandco@websync.net.

  I was in business with a few other guys, but we sold it.

  I smile at his newspaper photo, wishing him well with his new bride.

  Then I sign off and go upstairs to find my husband, who’s watching the Yankees beat the Mets on television.

  “You’re never going to believe this.” I sit next to him on the couch.

  “Tyler just took his first steps?”

  “Mike! He’s barely crawling. And anyway, he’s asleep. All three of the boys are.” I snuggle into his side as he puts an arm around my shoulder. He knows of course about Mike having been in touch with me over the summer; about my having seen him in Florida. I didn’t tell him about the kiss…only because it would have hurt him. I can’t bear to hurt him.

  “So what am I never going to believe?” he asks.

  I tell him. About Mike getting engaged, and about Mike founding—and then selling—Websync.

  “I bet he walked away with a million dollars,” I say, shaking my head.

  “A million? Are you kidding, Beau? He walked away with a billion. Probably more. I remember reading about that deal in Business Week. I just didn’t realize he was the one who made it.”

  “Just think,” I tease, “if I had chosen him instead—”

  “You could have been a billionaire’s wife?” he cuts in.

  “No, if I had chosen him, he wouldn’t have taken that job and he wouldn’t be a billionaire. I was going to say maybe you would have been the one to walk away and become one of the wealthiest men in the world.”

  “That,” he says smugly, “is exactly what I did. And I wouldn’t trade places with him, or anyone else, in a million years.”

  I smile, admiring his dimples. Then I say, “Don’t you mean a billion?”

  forty-six

  The past

  “Nervous?” Mike asked in a low voice.

  I shook my head.

  “Yes, you are,” he hissed, and squeezed my trembling left hand in his. Both our ring fingers were bare, but not for much longer now.

  In my right hand, I clutched a bouquet of stargazer lilies. Their heady perfume billowed around me, old-fashioned and romantic as the layers of white illusion and lace that shielded my face.

  I was wearing Grandma Alice’s veil, my mother’s pendant and a gorgeous gown that was sixty percent off at Kleinfeld’s.

  Something old, something new, something borrowed.

  The something blue was tucked into my bouquet with the lilies, barely visible to anybody but me.

  Two months was not enough time to throw together a formal church wedding with a big reception.

  I had always wanted to get married in the fall, wearing a white gown with a train and veil. And as my big brothers liked to say, Whatever Beau wants…

  Well, you know the rest.

  But that isn’t always the case.

  I’m not that spoiled.

  I mean, I also wanted to get married in Saint Patrick’s Cathedral; I had settled for Central Park beneath a canopy of October foliage.

  I wanted a reception at Tavern on the Green with lobster bisque, filet mignon and an orchestra; I had settled on a midtown Mexican restaurant with kickass chimichangas and a live mariachi band.

  I wanted a three-week Hawaiian honeymoon; I had settled for a weekend in the Poconos.

  But when it came to the thing I wanted most of all, I hadn’t settled.

  I smiled up at Mike as the pastor began, “Dearly Beloved…”

  forty-seven

  The present

  “Nervous?” Mike asks in a low voice.

  I shake my head.

  “Yes, you are,” he hisses, and squeezed my trembling left hand in his. Both our ring fingers are bare again, for the first time in fifteen years.

  In my right hand, I clutch a bouquet of stargazer lilies. Their heady perfume billows around me, old-fashioned and romantic as renewing our wedding vows on our anniversary beneath a canopy of October foliage in our own backyard, with our three children at our side and family and friends looking on.

  I don’t have on a long white gown this time, but I am wearing a pretty ivory dress I bought last month when I spent a weekend in the city shopping with Valerie. I’m also wearing her lucky pearl bracelet and the earrings I wore on my wedding day.

  Something old, something new, something borrowed…

  And something blue. The same something blue as the first time around, once again tucked into the fragrant bouquet of lilies.

  Nobody knows it’s there but me.

  Oh, and Mike, of course.

  This whole thing today, the vows renewal and the party, was my idea.

  The week in the Caribbean, just the two of us, was his. He made all the arrangements, and his parents are here to stay with the boys until we get back. They arrived from the airport last night armed with migraine medicine and several bags filled with toys.

  “Did you remember to bring my fire truck, Grandpa?” Josh had asked eagerly.

  “I’m sorry, Josh…we must have forgotten it.”

  If I’m not mistaken, I can hear crunching sounds coming from my middle son right now. I’ll have to remind my mother-in-law to check the pockets of his Gap Kids khakis before she washes them.

  I can also hear Tyler babbling in his stroller, and one of Laura’s infant twins starting to fuss somewhere under the shade tree where she’s sitting.

  It will be good to have a week of peace and quiet alone with my husband in Aruba, I think. But it will be good to be home again, too.

  This, after all, is what marriage is all about.

  Marriage.

  And life.

  I look down at my bouquet, just to make sure it’s still there.

  The blue business card that didn’t get thrown away after all that long-ago July.

  Do I believe in fate?

  Do I believe that my life was preordained?

  Do I believe that what happened would have happened even if I hadn’t settled on the only vacant stool in an airport bar back in the summer of eighty-nine?

  Absolutely.

  I smile up at Mike as the pastor begins, “Dearly Beloved…”

  First edition January 2005

  MIKE, MIKE & ME

  A Red Dress Ink novel

  ISBN: 978-1-4268-3370-0

  © 2005 by Wendy Corsi Staub.

  All rights reserved. The reproduction, transmission or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without written permission. For permission please contact Red Dress Ink, Editorial Office, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, incidents and places are the products of the author’s imagination, and are not to be construed as real. While the author was inspired in part by actual events, none of the characters in the book is based on an actual person. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is entirely coincidental and unintentional.

  ® and TM are trademarks. Trademarks indicated with ® are registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office, the Canadian Trade Marks Office and/or other countries.

  www.RedDressInk.com