Rebecca laughed, still focused on Tara’s toes. “It’s the same guy all right. First of all, I know him. Second of all,” Rebecca looked up from Tara’s foot and used the polish brush to point at the wall. “Look at her. She’s a carbon copy of him. Trust me, it’s the same guy.”
In unison, Callie and Sara turned to the wall to look at the same picture of Madelynn Tara had sent Michael.
“Holy shit,” Sara whispered.
“I wonder if Chris knows,” Callie reflected absently. “Because he would probably want to know.”
“Chris runs a pretty tight ship.” Sara explained to Tara. “Did he at least send you child support?”
Rebecca piped in, “Well, not since Madelynn was born, which was five years ago. But,” she looked over her shoulder at Sara, “he did start sending her letters a month or so ago. Then he sent her a huge check and made Maddie his beneficiary for his SGLI.”
“How huge a check are we talking about here?” Sara asked, brushing her bangs out of her eyes. “Because five years is a long time.”
Tara debated telling her for a minute and then decided that Rebecca would tell them if she didn’t. “Seven thousand dollars,” she muttered.
“And she hasn’t cashed it yet,” Rebecca piped in.
Tara narrowed her eyes accusingly at Rebecca and defended herself. “Only because I don’t know if I should accept it.”
“Take it, girl.” Sara wiggled her toes experimentally before stretching her legs and standing. “He owes it to you.”
Callie rolled her eyes. “Always the voice of reason, aren’t you, Sara? It sounds good in theory, but I meant it’s too little, too late for him to chase after Tara, especially if he’s going to try to win her over with money.” She glanced over at Tara and said, “I understand why you haven’t cashed it. If you did, he’d probably take that to mean you’re interested again, even if you’re not.”
Rebecca wrinkled her nose and said, “That ship has sailed.”
Tara remained silent. All three women stared at her, waiting.
Sara’s eyes widened, and she exchanged glances with the others. “Tara? That ship has sailed, hasn’t it? Are you considering anything you’d like to talk about?”
Tara sighed and looked at them thoughtfully. “I’m not planning on getting romantically involved with him again. But if he’s going to be part of Maddie’s life from now on, it wouldn’t hurt to at least be on friendly terms with him. I told him I’d video chat with him occasionally.”
The three women groaned in unison. “Tara!” Rebecca chided. “That is a really bad idea. You can’t be friends with a man like Michael and not want something else. It’s not just his looks. It’s everything. He’s an alpha male. You remember what he was like when he wasn’t around his friends.”
Sara nodded at Callie and explained since she didn’t know Michael as well as the rest of them. “He’s a mix of a caveman and modern guy. He’s always gentle with women but very defensive of them too.”
“What happened?” Callie asked. “I mean, he sounds like a great guy. But you have a daughter with him that he has never even mentioned to the rest of the team. There has to be a story there.”
“Prince Charming turned into a wart-covered toad after I kissed him, and I had Madelynn nine months later. The end. It was almost six years ago.” Tara didn’t want to go over this again.
Rebecca piped up. “He denied Madelynn was his and told Tara she’d been pretty much a one night stand that lasted three months.”
Callie rattled the ice in her sweet tea glass as she drank the last of it. “So much for being a great guy. What a dick.”
Sara giggled and joked “That’s what she said.”
Tara laughed. “Actually, yeah, I did. At first.”
Rebecca concentrated on the coat of what she called “whore-red” toenail polish she was painting onto Tara’s toes. “Well, even if you don’t cash the check, at least you’re taking the child support now.”
Sara piped in, “You’ll take monthly child support from here on out but won’t take the check? I think you should cash it. God knows you could use the money if you’ve been supporting yourself and your daughter for six years on a teaching salary.”
Tara looked at her plain, well-worn furniture with longing. “Yeah. It would be nice to have the extra cash.”
Rebecca muttered, “And get some new curtains. Those things are fugly. Not just ugly. Fugly.”
“New curtains are hardly what child support is for,” Tara said quietly.
Rebecca tugged on Tara’s other foot and said, “But this is back child support. This is paying you back for all the things you paid for that he should have helped with. Cash the check, girl, and take us all out to dinner next month.”
Tara frowned and thought about all Michael had missed, everything she’d done alone that he should have been there to help with. Diapers, two a.m. feedings, and potty training. Then she thought about first words, first steps, and Maddie’s first beautiful little smile. Michael owed her. But he owed Madelynn too. And maybe that’s what he’d been thinking when he sent her that check. Tara shrugged and said, “I’ll think about it. It’s crossed my mind lately.” She paused for a moment and then confessed, “I almost tore it up.”
Rebecca looked at Tara like she’d grown a second head. “If you were going to tear it up and didn’t, your subconscious was obviously planning on cashing it from the start. Just cash it and get some new curtains in here. I mean, damn, girl. These things are a Greek tragedy. I’ve been staring at them for two years, and at this point, I just want to set them on fire. Where the hell did you get them, anyway?”
“They were on sale!” Tara defended. She eyed the curtains. They weren’t that ugly. Okay, maybe they were. “Fine!” Tara threw her hands up, resigned. Rebecca would never leave her alone unless she did it, and now she had two other women to harp at her about it. So she just caved. “I’ll cash the damned check. Happy now?”
“Yes!” they replied in unison.
Rebecca finished the last coat of polish on Tara’s toenails, started packing up her pedicure set, and said, “Well ladies, we’re all painted with whore-red toenail polish, and we’ve all got club clothes with us, right?” At their nods, she danced a little and asked in a sing-song voice, “Who wants to get a cab and go to Margaritaville?”
All four women jumped up, laughed, and ran to get ready.
* * * *
It was karaoke night at Graffiti’s bar, and the girls immediately put their name on the list to sing Good-bye Earl. A short guy with blond hair pelted out the words to 500 Miles on the stage. Tara cringed. The bad thing about karaoke was that anyone could sing. It was full and a little difficult to find a table. But it wasn’t packed, and they managed to sit down at a booth in a cozy back corner.
Sara glanced around and said “Ladies, I think we need a shot of tequila.” When they groaned, she protested, “Think about it! Can anyone tell me the last time you did a shot of tequila?”
Rebecca looked disbelievingly at Sara. “The reason you don’t remember is because last time we didn’t do a shot of tequila. We did about ten shots of tequila.”
Callie laughed and said, “If I recall correctly, there were more than ten. And that was at Sara’s bachelorette party with that stripper. What was his name?”
“Sam the Slamma’,” Sara answered, laughing.
Rebecca waved the waitress over and ordered tequila shots for them. “For an hour or so I was convinced that Sam the Slamma’ was Mr. Right.” She laughed and sipped her daiquiri. “My hangover the next morning reminded me that Mr. Right doesn’t exist.”
Tara swirled the ice in her piña colada. “Oh my God! There he is!”
Their heads swiveled in unison, and someone said “Who?”
“Mr. Right!” Tara pointed to a man sitting at the bar talking with another man. “He’s talking to Prince Charming!” She sighed dreamily. “They look so in love.”
Rebecca punched her playfully. “Sadly, y
ou’re correct. Even though I know I’m probably wrong, I’d like to think there really is a man out there that is moderately attractive, employed, non-abusive, faithful, single, and straight. And I’m waiting for him.”
“I don’t know, Becca. That’s a pretty long list. You may be waiting a long time.” Sara joked.
Their tequila shots arrived, and Callie handed them each a glass and lime wedge.
“What should we drink to?” Tara asked.
“Girlfriends!” Callie responded. “Because the opposite sex is just not as reliable as girlfriends!”
Laughing, they each licked their wrists, sprinkled the salt, and clinked their glasses.
Three hours later, Tara waved good-bye to her friends as she unlocked her door and went inside. She briefly considered going to bed since she wasn’t too steady on her feet.
Michael’s words from their previous conversation meandered through her mind. “I’ll wait.”
Slipping off her shoes, Tara went over to the computer and flipped it on.
She really shouldn’t be talking to him after a piña colada, four—or was it five?—shots of tequila, and two strawberry daiquiris. But Michael had said he’d wait. Tara pictured him sitting in his bed, staring at his computer and waiting for her to log on and talk to him. With a frustrated groan, she looked at the clock on the bottom of the monitor. Twelve-thirty. He would probably be asleep anyway, so it wouldn’t hurt to try.
Tara entered her password, positioned the webcam, and sent a chat request to MDavis0401. In less than a second it was accepted, and her screen started to load his image.
“Hi.” Surprise laced her voice. “I didn’t think you’d still be up.”
Michael blinked sleepily at the computer. “I was hoping you’d try anyway.” He ran his hands through his hair with a nervous smile. “I’m glad you’re here.”
Tara swayed slightly in the chair. “I’m not in the best condition right now. We went to Graffiti’s tonight and had some drinks. It was karaoke night.”
Michael grinned at the screen. “And did you karaoke?”
Tara gave a huge, mischievous smile. “Yeah.”
“And what did you sing?” he asked, still smiling at her.
“Good-bye Earl!” She giggled, remembering how every man in the bar had cringed when the music started.
He laughed with her and said, “Figures. I suppose that was Rebecca’s idea?”
Tara’s expression turned sour. “Nah, we all agreed on it. Besides, Rebecca has a right to sing it. She caught Dillian with some tramp. That’s why she divorced him. Why would any man cheat on a woman like Rebecca?”
Michael lifted one eyebrow and said, “I can’t answer that question in any way that wouldn’t make you mad at me.”
Tara absently fingered one of the beads on her shirt. “Yeah. And truthfully, it wouldn’t take a whole hell of a lot to make me mad at you.”
Michael gently said, “And that’s why I plead the fifth.”
Tara looked back up at him and said, “I’m still mad at you for what you said when I told you I was pregnant.”
He looked stricken. “Tara, I didn’t mean that.”
“Whether you did or not, it still hurt.” She sighed. “And honestly, it still hurts. A lot.” Now why the hell did I tell him that?
“I know. And I’m sorry. I wish I could take it back. I wish…hell, I wish a lot of things.” He ran his fingers through his hair again.
“Michael?”
“Yeah?”
“Did you ever, you know, think about me? After you left?” Tara was uncomfortable asking, but she’d always wondered. With a little alcohol in her system, she actually had the nerve to find out.
“All the time. I called your cell phone a few times when I was deployed right after Madelynn was born. I guess you changed the number, though. After awhile, I just gave up. I don’t know if I would have ever tried again if I hadn’t…well, if I hadn’t lost my leg.” He gestured off screen in the direction of his mangled leg. “A lot of things changed for me. I want to be a good man. I’m trying to be. I wasn’t a good man before.”
Tara looked at him on the screen, the memory of how different he’d been around his friends flitting through her mind. “You weren’t a good man around your friends. You were a good man when you were with me.”
Michael frowned at her, his lips pursed. He gave a frustrated growl and ground out from between clenched teeth, “A good man is a good man all the time. He doesn’t change because of his friends. He doesn’t hurt the woman he loves and deny his child because he thinks his friends will judge him. A good man would have told them where to go and what to do when they got there. I wasn’t a good man, Tara. But I want to be. I’m trying to be. I’ve been trying for five years since Lieutenant Paulson found me and knocked some sense into me. I know I don’t stand a snowball’s chance in hell of ever getting you back. But I want to at least try to be a good father to Madelynn if I can’t be a good man to you.”
Tara laughed shakily. She was stuck on that “woman he loves” comment. “Wow. What if I told you that you had just a tiny bit more than a snowball’s chance in hell? More like a snowball’s chance in, say, Phoenix?” Still not a good chance, but…the woman he loves?
Michael froze and blinked rapidly at her. “Are you saying that, or are you just curious?”
Tara looked down, thoughtful. “I don’t know. I do know that since you, well, no other man has quite made the cut. But then again, it’s hard to date with a kid. Men tend to look the other way and, honestly, that’s fine with me. I don’t know if we should even consider getting involved again. I don’t want to make things any worse, but is that even possible?” She hiccupped.
“I think if you gave us a chance,” he swallowed hesitantly, "I think we might be able to make a go of it. Do you think that’s a possibility?” He waited, watching her.
Tara looked away, unable to meet his gaze even on a computer screen. “I don’t know, Michael.” She leaned forward and put her head on the desk and then jerked up quickly. “I’m falling asleep here,” she muttered, shaking her head. “I’m still attracted to you, and talking to you yesterday and then thinking all day kind of brought it all back. You hurt me so much, and I think you might just be interested because you don’t think anyone else will want you because of your leg. I mean, women like me don’t get men like you. It just doesn’t happen.”
Michael frowned. “What do you mean when you say women like you and men like me?”
Tara sighed. Stupid man. “Do I have to spell it out for you? Fat women with hot men. Doesn’t happen.”
“Tara, you are not fat. On your absolute heaviest day, you’re maybe 155 soaking wet. I was an ass for saying that, and my so-called friends were ignorant little punks. I can’t stand women that think a three digit weight is a death sentence.” He frowned for a moment and then grinned and said, “Hey, you think I’m hot? Because I thought you had a killer body then, and I haven’t changed that opinion. Not to mention you look like a young Audrey Hepburn.”
Tara perked up. “You think I look like Audrey Hepburn?” Her mother had always told her that, but Tara had simply brushed it off as motherly love.
“No, I think you look better than Audrey Hepburn. Definitely better. Especially since I’ve never seen Audrey Hepburn naked. Or in my shirts. How are they, by the way?”
Tara blushed, remembering the purging ceremony she’d had with Rebecca. “Sadly, they are ashes. After you were so mean to me that night, I had a pity party and set fire to everything I had that was yours and everything that reminded me of you.”
Michael stared at her in disbelief. “You burned my OktoberFest shirt? I got that in Germany!”
She grimaced. “Yeah. And your batman boxers. Sorry. In my defense, you really deserved it.” Tara blinked at the computer, wondering why Michael looked so fuzzy. Her jaw cracked in a yawn, and she rubbed her eyes in an attempt to stay awake.
“I’m really sorry about those, and I promise we’ll talk
about them later, but right now, I have to go to bed. I had too much to drink, and I need to go to sleep.” Tara yawned again, but it was interrupted by another hiccup.
“All right. But we are going to talk about that. And about everything else. Don’t think you can get away with telling me some of this just because you were drinking tonight.”
“Okey-dokey. Night Michael.”
“Night Tara.”
* * * *
Mike waited for Tara to end the session and closed his laptop. He slid the rolling table to the side and lowered the head of his bed so that he was lying down.
She was going to give him a chance.
Mike hadn’t even realized how badly he wanted it until she’d dangled it in front of him like steak to a starving man. He settled in the bed and linked his hands behind his head, joy filling his body. He was going to get another chance—maybe—and that was worth making it through another day.
He blinked sleepily and smiled as he drifted off to sleep. For the first night in a long time, he didn’t dream about the IED. Instead, he dreamed about Tara and the first time they’d made love. It felt real, every touch and kiss tingling. Her scent, taste, and the feel of her surrounding him were exactly as he remembered but more potent since he was experiencing them again.
Mike woke up just before he came, hard as a rock and shuddering with desire. Jesus, that had been hot. He remembered that night all too well. He’d taken Tara to dinner and for a walk on the beach and then back to his barracks room. It had been the first time they’d made love, and the first time Mike had realized he was falling in love with Tara. They’d spent the entire night in their own world, too wrapped up in each other to even consider the fact that Mike’s neighbors probably couldn’t sleep over all the noise. He glanced down at himself. The blankets were tented over his erection.
Not gonna be able to sleep with that.
Reaching under the sheets, he let his mind wander back to the memory, picking up where the dream had left off.
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