Chapter Seventy

Michaela

 

Matty was brushing his teeth before bed when my phone pinged with a text message.

How’d it go?

Lincoln.

Smiling, I shook my head. He couldn’t help himself. Fine, I replied. His bedtime soon.

Moira had eaten with us, then disappeared to her room.

I planned to read once Matty was asleep on the sofa.

Cool and rainy reminds me of Virginia.

Behave, I texted.

I can’t mention my home state without accusations of dirty thoughts? I’m hurt.

LOL

This is blanket and hot chocolate weather, though.

If that’s what floats your boat tonight.

He sent the eye-roll emoji. I meant for snuggling with you.

It’s too easy to tease you. You should work on that.

And get less attention from my girl? No thanks.

Yours?

In the way you’re most comfortable with. But yes.

We haven’t been home a week yet.

And? I like us.

I need to find a bicycle.

Okay…

Matty’s not allowed to ride on his street without supervision and he’s not happy about it. If I went riding with him, he’d get more time and exercise on the bike.

The bathroom door closed, then I heard the toilet lid tap the tank. Ah.

My phone chimed again. Do you want to go shopping?

I don’t know, we talked about a lot of things today and my brain is full of thoughts.

The toilet flushed, then water ran in the sink. I smiled at Matty remembering to wash his hands. No matter the issues with my in-laws, I wouldn’t complain about the manners he learned.

Call me when the kid’s in bed.

I sighed and set my phone aside. Matthew exited the bathroom, wearing pajamas. Unlike most boys, it was a plain tee and pants. Gloria only allowed so much fun stuff like superheroes.

“Your bed is ready, good sir.”

He rolled his eyes at my humor. A folded blanket was laid on the cushions and Mo’s granny square afghan fit over him. He knelt on the floor for a quick, silent prayer, then climbed on and got comfortable. I started to tuck him in and received a groan of annoyance.

“Sorry!”

“I’m nine.”

“I know.” Old habit. But I did kiss his hair. “Sweet dreams.”

Lights off, then I grabbed my phone and retreated to my room.

A new chime. Michaela?

I don’t want to talk. The walls aren’t that thick.

Sorry. Though it’d be easier than texting. Are you going to bed, too?

No. Normal time. I planned to read.

I sat on my bed and propped a pillow behind my back.

When do you drop him off?

Service is at eleven.

And then?

We might still do family supper. I don’t know. Gloria doesn’t come home until Monday afternoon, but Victor can grill if it’s not raining, and his son and daughter-in-law can cook. Sunday dinner is always at six.

Then you still have time to see me. 

Lincoln…

Neither of us ever works on Sundays. Shouldn’t we take advantage?

Traveling with a band is work.

Doesn’t count.

How?

Travel isn’t work. It’s to prepare for work. Or between work.

I sent the eye-roll emoji. Semantics.

Is this about the ‘my girl’ thing? I’m not pressuring you. I said it because you make me happy when I’m with you and I care about you.

You didn’t freak me out.

Then why not see me tomorrow afternoon?

Because my head is full of responsibilities and you’re a distraction.

He pushed, I gave an uncensored answer, and now I wished I’d rephrased that before hitting send.

Then I’ll bid you goodnight.

Lincoln

Michaela, I don’t want to have to persuade you to go out with me or wear you down. I’m fine being patient. I’m not fine doing all the work. If the potential for seeing me doesn’t excite you, too, you know how you feel…and so do I.

I stared at my phone. Did he just break up with me? Whatever this was to end?

Is this you being done? I asked.

Dots…

Then… I don’t want to be. But your signals have been pretty clear.

How can I signal decisions I haven’t made?!

I always knew he’d want more than I could give. I’d just gotten a bit distracted by the sweet daily texts and surprise food and passionate kisses…by his constant promises of I’m not going anywhere. Clearly, he lied to me and himself.

I see. Your ‘patience’ is a lie and always was, Lincoln.

My phone rang.

“I’ve never lied to you,” he said when I answered.

“Really? You’re deluded if you really think that. I knew you couldn’t handle this. I warned you and you kept promising and I knew you’d want too much too fast. You’ve never faced resistance or complications and you don’t like it.”

“Sure, it’s all my fault.”

“Excuse me?”

“You’ve messed with my head since I kissed you!”

“How is a one-night-stand messing with your head? How is leaving in the middle of the night not clear?”

“You know what I’m talking about.”

“Get over yourself. You’ve pursued me since we met no matter how many times I said I wasn’t interested in a relationship, so if your panties are in a bunch now, you only have yourself to blame!”

“You’re right. How can I ever measure up to dear sainted Jonny?”

“Don’t.”

“You wanted truth.”

“No. You’re being mean because you’re upset.”

“Because you give me crumbs and expect me to love them, Michaela, and rejection hurts.”

“If you think I’ve rejected you this week, you’ve got a screw loose.”

“Maybe I do,” he replied more quietly. “I’ve never been in a relationship where I felt out of control before and you’re right—I don’t like it. With every other girl I’ve dated, I knew how it’d go and how it would end. Not you. I know what I want and how you make me feel, but the rest is completely up to you and it’s terrifying. Okay? I’ve never been insecure before and I don’t like it. Happy? Because this sucks.”

I froze.

My heart beat loudly in my ears.

My jaw worked, but nothing coming to mind sounded right and I didn’t want to say the wrong thing. I squeezed my eyes shut. I always feared I’d hurt him. Now his vulnerability was laid out between us.

His heart.

“Michaela.”

“I’m sorry, I—”

“I’m sorry, too.” Then the line went dead.

Call ended.

“That’s not what I meant,” I whispered.

Fuck.

I slept for shit, so thank God the Mass service wasn’t the early one. Matty showered without complaint while I made breakfast, maybe picking up on my mood. Moira took one look at me and arched a brow. I shook my head. Not now.

“You look like your puppy died.”

“Really?”

“Okay, no, you look like when that fancy music college rejected you. What gives?”

She peeled a banana.

“Nothing. Insomnia. It happens.”

She shook her finger. “This isn’t Tired Michaela face.”

“Drop it. Matty will be out here any minute.”

I arranged French toast on a plate and sprinkled a little powdered sugar on top, then set it at his spot at the table along with a glass of juice.

The bathroom door opened, but no little boy followed.

“Need help?”

“No!”

I walked over anyway and found him carefully combing his wet hair back. It reminded me of watching his father do the same thing before our dates when he’d shower after soccer practice and my heart grew a bit heavy. My son deserved a dad watching his games and teaching him how to shave and tie a tie and the right way to ask a girl to prom.

“What’s that look?” Matty asked.

“Old memories. You look very handsome. Hungry? Breakfast is ready.”

“Yup.” He hurried past me wearing his nice pants and undershirt. Someone had taught him to leave his button-up on the hanger until his hair no longer dripped.

Matthew tucked into the French toast and I retreated to my room to change to leave.

I wasn’t hungry.

My phone chimed. Moira: We’re talking about whatever this is when you get back.

Perfect incentive to find anything else to do today, then.

I returned to the living room in a sweater and jeans and started packing Matty’s things. It didn’t take him long to devour breakfast. He brushed his teeth, put his nice shirt on, then we left for the church the Aceros had attended since settling in Pasadena.

Victor stood waiting outside the sanctuary doors. “Good morning. Have fun?”

Matty shrugged. “It was alright.”

His grandfather chuckled and I rolled my eyes behind my son. Kids.

“Thank your mother for putting up with you, mijo.”

Matty surprised me with a hug. “Thanks for the movie and stuff.”

“You’re welcome.”

Then he ran inside. Boys.

“Will you join us?” Victor asked.

“Not today. Let me know if the schedule changes after you bring Gloria home.”

He smiled. “Will do.” And hugged me. “It’s going to be okay, mija.”

“What?”

He tucked a curl behind my ear in a very grandfatherly way. “Whatever’s making your eyes sad. Trust an old man—trouble’s always temporary.”

I smiled so I wouldn’t cry, nodded, and turned to go. Then remembered, “What’s for dinner?”

He grinned at my surprise question and shrugged. “Beats me.”

I laughed, then really did leave.

It had been a tumultuous two weeks, but at least some things were looking up. I might’ve lost the guy, Uncle Harry was dead, but I’d regained my family, and no longer had money woes. If I had to be alone, at least it wasn’t broke and childless, and I’d learned a lot about myself.