His turn then. “Three nights ago, I knew something bad had happened at the hearing. I could see it in your face, your eyes. I didn’t how to help. I just knew…I wanted you to turn to me when something bad or sad happened. No matter when or how or what it was. I hated it. That you felt so bad.”
She put down her coffee, leaned forward. She lifted her hands toward him and he took them. Their knees touched. Their palms nested together. She said carefully, “Mike. I don’t want to be a leaner. Or a needer.”
“I know that bugs you. But I don’t see it. I never saw it. You’re smart. You’re a general and a diplomat in a crisis. You’re the best mom on the planet. When a situation’s tough, you don’t run, you dive in-wherever, whenever. Do whatever it takes.”
She frowned, as if it never occurred to her that someone would see her that way. “I was just raised…so helpless.”
“That may be true, Red. But that’s not character. It’s just circumstance. A person doesn’t start out the first day of medical school doing brain surgery. It takes some time and practice.”
“You respected that before I did.”
He hesitated, long and hard. Reached for more coffee. Still hesitated. Her eyes were on his face, her expression patient, waiting. Apparently she wanted him to lay out something tough. Offhand, he couldn’t think of any way to avoid it-particularly if he wanted to win her. And he wanted that more than life.
“Okay…from my side of the fence now…I let something loose the other night.”
“I know. You shared some of your precious Talisker.”
“That’s true. But not that. I was worried about… Well, I don’t know how to say this. I just don’t seem to do certain things…in a fastidious way.”
“Fastidious?”
Okay. So he didn’t know the right word. The delicate, ladylike word. “You know,” he said edgily.
“There’s a place for please and thank you. Maybe even a place for that language in bed. But I can’t promise any aptitude for…finesse.”
“This is about your ex, isn’t it.” She didn’t frame a question, because there wasn’t one. She already knew that answer.
“Yeah. When she picked up with George… I don’t know how to say it. But she made me feel like I was a bull. Insensitive. Not the tidy kind under the covers. It’s my reality. I like the smells, the sweat, the sounds.”
“Mike?”
“What?”
“I’m sorry your ex is such a prissy woman, handsome. But personally, I think it’s obvious that you’re always going to be dark French roast, not decaf.”
“Well…maybe I need to know if you’re into that dark French roast thing.”
“Hmm.” She appeared to consider. “After the two intensive samples I’ve had…I have to say I can’t ever imagine wanting decaf, ever. Why settle for bland when you can have it all?”
“That’s it,” he said, and pulled her from her chair onto his lap. He couldn’t wait any longer to touch her. Hold her. “I told you I loved you, Amanda. And I meant it from the heart and soul both.”
She lifted her face, anticipating his kiss. That first connection was so sweet, so needed, so cherished that he felt his heart opening, wide enough to let the sun in.
His sun was her.
Naturally, seconds later, the dogs got up and barked. Then Molly stormed outside, followed by Teddy. Both their kids were still polka-dotted. Neither seemed to find it strange that their parents were snuggled together. They just both climbed on. Then came the dogs. Darling fit on top, but Slugger couldn’t jump that high, and started baying his unhappiness.
Amanda started laughing…then so did he.
“How on earth are we going to keep all this straight?” he demanded.
“That’s easy,” she murmured. “Everything is yours, mine and ours.”
And kissed him again.
The August afternoon was crazy-hot…hot enough that Mike felt justified hiding in the basement. That was, until Amanda found him.
“Out,” she said simply.
“I don’t think I can do it.”
“Out,” she repeated. He gave in-Amanda knew he would eventually. “I can’t believe a big strong guy like you would be afraid of a few kids.”
“I never heard of a meet-and-greet for four-year-olds. And as far as I can tell, the whole thing’s terrifying.”
It wasn’t. It was a super way for the kids to meet some other children their age before preschool actually started. Both yards were decorated with balloons and tables, both places had snacks and drinks. Precisely between the houses, there was a hired balloon maker…making animal balloons for each child. In Mike’s yard, groups congregated who wanted to do the worm-and-frog thing. In Amanda’s, there was a twirling contest, requiring a lot of girls wearing tutus and crowns.
Amanda had hoped a good handful would come to the impromptu gig. Instead…she counted over thirty kids, not counting moms and neighbors. “Talk about a success,” she murmured.
“All your doing. I still can’t believe we’re both surviving suburbia.”
She lifted her head, saw his expression. “You’ve come to love it, haven’t you?”
“Love it-yeah. In spite of myself. But we have an awful lot to sort out, Amanda. Which house do you want to live in? Are both of us going to work? How are we going to manage all the grandparents? The ex’s?”
“Yes,” she said, as if that were an answer.
“Yes?”
“Uh-huh. There was a time I wanted perfect, Mike. Now I realize what I was looking for back then was shallow and boring. Never again. I want complications. I want messes. I want challenges. Are we going to have fun creating our lives together, or what?”
“You said it. Bring it on, Red.” He grinned, bent down to kiss her nose…and naturally, was interrupted by the sound of a scream. Molly’s.
In her most dramatic voice, Molly announced to the world in general, “Guess what! Princess just had a kitten. On my bed!”
“Uh-oh,” Mike murmured.
Amanda laughed again. “Just one more thing that’s going to be yours, mine and ours. What could possibly be better than that?”
“Nothing in this world,” he agreed, and swung his arm around her shoulder.
JENNIFER GREENE
lives near Lake Michigan with her husband and an assorted menagerie of pets. Michigan State University has honored her as an outstanding woman graduate for her work with women on campus. Jennifer has written more than seventy love stories, for which she has won numerous awards, including four RITA® Awards from the Romance Writers of America and their Hall of Fame and Lifetime Achievement Awards.
You’re welcome to contact Jennifer through her website at www.jennifergreene.com.
***
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Yours, Mine & Ours Page 16
