Chapter Twenty-Three

Michaela

 

He bent down again and softly kissed my lips. “I promise. ‘Night, sweetheart.”

“Goodnight, Lincoln.”

He flicked the light switch as he left, closing my door. The bathroom was still lit, but that wouldn’t keep me awake now. Eventually, I’d brush my teeth.

At the moment, I enjoyed the languid liquidity of endorphins.

If I woke in a couple hours, it’d still be early enough on the West Coast to text Mo.

….

Or her to text me.

I looked at the alarm clock after a chime from my phone. 12:00.

Bleary-eyed, I tapped into the message app.

How are you in a photo frame with Lincoln Adams?

Huh?

A photo came next. Someone took a shot of him looking at a merch booth and the side of my face was visible farther down from him. Mo was the only person who would recognize me in a pic of this quality, but damn her eagle eyes.

Was he at the band wedding? What’s he doing in Virginia?

Shit. Did I want to have this conversation with a foggy brain?

I typed I met the whole band. And it’s midnight here.

Oh! Did I wake you?

Yeah, hon. Is there anything important?

How were you and Lincoln Adams at the same amusement park today?

Abby is his mom. Surprise!

Holy buckets! Did she send you guys on a date???!!!

Three question marks and three exclamation points. She was way too excited about the possibility of me going out. I was screwed. How to phrase?

She encouraged me to see the sights with a local.

Details! He’s hot. Is he nice? Was it a blind date? Was it awkward?

Call me.

Three-two-one—Rrrrring! “Hi, Mo.”

“Michaela, tell me everything.”

“Everything?”

“As your BFF, yes!”

Fuck. “Lincoln was with Bob the lead guitar guy when I was hired at the café. And then at the bar where the Smiths came to hear me sing. Then seated next to me at the rehearsal dinner. Then chatted me up at the wedding reception.”

“Okay…so it was a pleasant surprise when he came to visit Abby?”

“Definitely a surprise, for both of us.”

“It’s fate.”

“Hold on!”

“I sense more to this story. I can’t believe you didn’t already share this stuff.”

“BecauseIsleptwithhim.”

“WHAT?”

I yanked the phone from my ear as she tried to deafen me. “Volume, please!”

“Mic.” She practically growled at me.

“Alright, alright. I had a bit too much adult eggnog on Christmas and went home with Lincoln Adams.”

“OH MY GOD!”

“Mo, seriously.” I switched her to speakerphone so I could put something on. The room was cool and this wasn’t a conversation to have naked. “I didn’t tell you because I knew you’d freak out and I just wanted to forget a stupid mistake.”

“Honey, consensual sex is only a mistake if you didn’t enjoy it. It was consensual, right? He didn’t take advantage of your inebriated state?”

“Yeah, he didn’t do anything wrong. I was loose and watching the happy couple had been kinda hard, so I—”

“Jumped the hot young stud’s bones. How was it?”

“Mo…”

“Michaela, you hadn’t had sex in ten years. Stop hedging and spill!”

“The first time was okay. Then he said he could do better.”

“He did, didn’t he? His official band promo shot makes him look like sex on a stick.”

“Oh my God, Mo, you have a boyfriend.”

“Yeah, and neither of us minds if we acknowledge the beauty in other humans. So he rocked your world. Then what?”

“I woke while he was sleeping, snuck out of his apartment, and called a car to get home. I thought I’d never see him again.”

“And then Virginia?”

“No…”

“Michaela!

“I’m messed up in the head! I know!”

“Honey, that’s not—”

“I forgot my guitar at the Lindseys. I figured I’d go in, apologize for the oops, and go home. But he was there.” She gasped. “I’d left my earring at his place, so he leveraged me to go to lunch. We went to an In ‘n’ Out. I was only going to stay as long as it took to eat.”

“Go on…”

“An old lady passing our table said what beautiful babies we’d make.”

“Oh, Mic…”

“I tried to leave. He was understandably confused why I was suddenly upset.”

“Did you confide in the poor man?”

“I told him about Jonny and explained I don’t do relationships. But Lincoln…”

“He got to you,” she said as a revelation. “Do you like him?”

“I like his penis.”

“Damn!” She laughed. Then, “Answer the question.”

“I like him when he’s not pushing me for things I can’t give.”

“What happened at In ‘n’ Out? You told him your tragic story and ran?”

“After I fucked him again.”

“Ooo, he is good.”

“He terrifies me, Mo. I’ve never felt such physical need before, but I could deal if it was only sex.” And the more time we spent not naked, the less about sex it got.

“Sweetie, you’re allowed to be happy. Jonny would want you to be happy.”

“I can’t love and lose again.”

“Why do you think you have to?”

“Lincoln is two years older than me!”

She tsked at me. “Michaela, that’s stupid.”

“Men die before women. Everyone knows that.”

“Except all the times they don’t,” she replied more seriously. “So when did Lincoln come to Virginia?”

“Yesterday, I mean Monday, now. He missed Christmas with his parents because of the wedding, and then Harry died. We were totally shocked to see each other in Abby’s kitchen.”

“I bet! What a small world. Fate.”

I shook my head at her romanticism. “So the lawyer charges in and says I have to go to a neighbor’s party and he would pick me up at seven. But Lincoln beat him to it.”

“Aww.” By her swooning, her hand was pressed to her heart.

“It was a friendly rescue. We were both on best behavior and clear where I left things the last time.”

“But he took you to the amusement park!”

“That started out platonic, too. It got me out of the house. It was a completely innocent good time.”

“Until?”

Until I got him naked again, not that it took much coaxing. Sex between us was explosive. “We were joking around and he caught me and kissed me. I reminded him we can’t, but he proposed a friends-with-benefits arrangement.”

“It’s a good start,” she replied with a wink-wink-nudge-nudge tone of voice.

“It’s a terrible idea! One or both of us will catch feelings and then—”

“You’ll live happily ever after?”

“I’ll have to break up with him for his own good.”

“Michaela…”

“But, being an idiot, I countered with that only lasting until we’re back in L.A.”

“So, what happens in Virginia stays in Virginia?”

“Exactly. But I told him to think about it because I know he can’t do it. He wants everything. He’s ready to settle down and he deserves a great girl without my baggage.”

“I take it you sent him home since you’re talking to me now?”

“Well…”

“Is he listening now?”

“God no! I’m alone.”

“Don’t scare me like that! What the hell did you mean?”

“We had sex again.”

Moira squealed again.

“This is going to end terribly, but this week is easier with him here. I just need to keep my clothes on.” And definitely no kissing.

“Why?”

“You know why.”

“And I keep telling you the right guy won’t care. Did you make a deal?”

“Not really? He countered with leaving me alone in L.A. only if I admit if I miss him, but I didn’t agree to that and he picked up his stuff and went to the door.”

“When did the sex happen?”

“After I told him I can’t make promises, but I like having him here. He said he’d see me tomorrow and tried to go, but stopped himself. We’re getting into this pattern of no-no-no-fine-get-naked. I’m using him and it’s awful.”

“Is it using if he’s giving?”

“If I’m a taker, yes!”

The more I got to know him, the less I wanted him hurt, so I was awful to ask for more.

“Mic, I love you as you are…but you make life harder than it has to be. Lincoln sounds great. Relax and see where it goes. If you break up, so what? You’ll join billions of humans throughout history. We’ll eat ice cream and watch sappy movies and you’ll heal.”

“It’s not a break-up that scares me, Mo.”

She gasped. “He’s really gotten under your skin. Finally.”

“Mo!”

“I have to meet the guy that affects you this much.”

I groaned. “Not helping.”

“Am, too.” She huffed out a short sigh. “Mic, has it occurred to you that maybe you’re connecting with Lincoln Adams now because you’re meant to and it’s time to come out of mourning? If he’s still around, he sees in you what I do.”

“Which is what?”

“A woman with a lot of love left to give.”

Ouch.

No one could sling the truth at you like your best friend.

“What I have won’t be enough,” I murmured.

“Let him be the judge of that. Have you told him everything?”

“No.”

“Why not?” Her exasperation was as clear as if I could see her tossing her hands up.

“Are you kidding? I’ve known the man less than a week in days we’ve been face to face. Laying down the widow card is enough.”

“Yet he still wants you.”

“He’s playing knight in shining armor.”

“Michaela, is that fair?”

Maybe not. “You’re the one who warned me about those guys!”

“Yeah, as in the men who would exploit your vulnerability, not a guy who loves you anyway!”

“Lincoln Adams does not love me,” I said fiercely.

Confidently.

He couldn’t.

“Sounds like he’s on his way from my end.” The sofa squeaked. She’d been looking at her phone while not paying attention to the TV again. Why she turned it on when she wasn’t going to watch it I still didn’t understand after ten years. “Do I need to come out there and shake some sense into you?”

“You can’t bail on work short notice, Miss Shift Manager.”

“Please, it’s Target—we have redundancies everywhere. But if you don’t want me putting the fear of BFF in you, have fun with the guy!”

“Fine, whatever. Can you yell at me tomorrow? It’s late and I had a long day.”

“Yes you did. Okay. I’ll let you get back to bed as long as you promise to update me every day now.”

“I’ll stay in touch. Goodnight, Mo.”

“Sweet dreams. Love you!”

I ended the call.

Could I get back to sleep? Body was exhausted, but shutting my brain off…

I brushed my teeth, used the toilet, washed my hands, and lay down again.

….

As I wandered the house Wednesday morning, I realized this was merely one of multiple trips I’d have to make here. Unless I sold the house furnished as-is, all of it would have to find homes elsewhere. There was no room with me, at least not until I bought a house back in California.

All of Harry’s personal belongings had to be gone through and given or packed away.

I hadn’t looked in his room, yet.

Looking meant accepting he was really gone for good.

Steeling myself in front of the door, I entered the master suite and took in my uncle’s most private space. This room had the masculine feel of his office with the green walls and matching bedspread and walnut-stained furniture. I inhaled deeply, instantly catching the scents that combined to mean Harry: Old Spice cologne, soap, fresh laundry, and old clothes.

The original money came from Grandma. She bucked tradition and married a man who worked with his hands. Then Grandpa and Harry were successful.

Turning to my right, I ran my hand along the dresser as I looked at the photographs on top. There were some of my grandparents at different places over the years, a couple with Harry as a boy, the Little League teams he coached and sponsored…. the sum of a happy life.

Several of the frames held pictures of me at various ages, too.

An old enlarged photograph of my grandfather’s tool and die shop hung on the wall accompanied by a later photo when the building held Harry’s cabinet-making shop, instead. He’d loved working with wood, shaping it into beautiful things. Five years ago, he retired from working hands-on with the projects because of arthritis, then sold the business to his younger partner last year and went into full retirement.

Stupid heart attack…

The scents intensified in the bathroom where all the toiletries were in one place. Did you give away bottles that were barely used? And what of the common things like towels? Fluffy Egyptian cotton didn’t need to be thrown out. There were plenty in the house.

Mo and I wouldn’t have to buy new ones for years.

I chuckled mirthlessly.

What a way to save money…capitalize on the dead guy.

Oh, God…he was really gone!

Where’s the latest picture?

I wasn’t even sure what he looked like this last year.

Where, where, where…

I frantically searched through the photographs and cards in the room until I found one from two months ago. “Harry…”

Oh, thank God he still looked the same.

Well, relatively the same. A few more wrinkles and age spots, but it was still Uncle Harry. I dropped to the bed, the image resting on my lap. The caption said it was taken at a charity event, which explained why he was in a suit.

He hated the restriction of dressy clothes. He’d pull it off well, but they got exchanged for a t-shirt and jeans again as soon as he was home.

I caressed the image of his face with my finger and began to weep.

So caught up in grief, it took a long moment before I registered the arm wrapped around me in comfort. I wiped away the tears on my cheeks before looking up at my new companion.

“What are you doing here?” I murmured, voice trembling.