Chapter 9
A Second Chance
Mike
Mike shifted aimlessly from room to room. He’d never looked at his house so objectively or so critically before, not even when he bought the damn place.
Savannah’s late Sunday night text, far too brief and uninformative, stated simply that she’d told her parents and that she wanted to talk. Monday night at eight.
He’d been a wreck ever since. He wasn’t much for cleaning or tidying, though his place wasn’t exactly messy. He preferred a more minimalist approach and didn’t have a lot of crap laying around. The fact that it had only taken him two or so hours to clean up didn’t seem long enough. He puttered around, looking for things to dust, sweep up, pick up all over again.
When he was done with that, he’d gone domestic for a few hours, anything to kill the time. He’d prepared a meat and cheese plate, an actual platter with cubed slices of cheese and rolled up meats. He’d added olives and crackers and when he was done, he stared at it in disbelief.
What the fuck has happened to me?
The doorbell chiming through the house saved him from having to do any further introspection.
He rushed to the door, slowing his steps at the last minute out of fear that Savannah could actually hear him running. He’d chosen his clothes with care, a first in a long time. He only had jeans, but he chose a pair that wasn’t beat up, a dark wash new denim that he’d maybe only worn once or twice. He’d paired it with the one dress shirt he owned, a black cotton that he’d had to actually iron. He hadn’t done a perfect job of it either. He’d showered after he got off work and actually shaved, also a first in more months than he could remember.
He pulled open the door and was stunned by the woman who stood on the other side. Savannah had dressed with care, like she was going out on a real date. She still looked natural, had opted for a fresh look without much makeup, but she’d curled her long dark hair into ringlets and chosen a knee length dress that while on the casual side, still outlined her beautiful curves. She’d paired the black dress with a light pink cardigan and her pink slip on sandals, while also casual, matched perfectly.
“Hey…” she sounded nervous and glanced over Mike’s shoulder instead of looking at him. She clutched her car keys, a single fob with a black key and a huge key chain with some fluffy pink ball, in a white knuckled grip.
“Hey. Sorry, come in.” He held the door open after he realized she was waiting for an invitation. Smooth. Real smooth.
Savannah slipped off her shoes and stood on the cool hardwood floor in her bare feet. She glanced at him, waiting, even though she’d been in every single room in his house many times over. He tried not to think of her when she was there before. He had to block it out because he was already reacting to her raw beauty, the sweet floral scent of her perfume, the sweet, natural scent of her skin, her laundry soap. It was all as he remembered and it triggered some pretty graphic images of them doing some not so chaste things in just about every room in the house.
“Do you- want something to eat? I made something…”
“Oh?” She arched a brow. If the color rising on her cheeks was any indication, she was thinking about some choice memories of her own.
“Yah. I made a meat and cheese tray. It’s late. I thought maybe you’d be hungry.”
“I actually had dinner late,” she admitted. “But I could eat something,” she rushed on, obviously sensing his disappointment.
“Alright. Do you want to talk in the kitchen then? At the table?” It was probably the one place in the house that was safe from old memories. They hadn’t done much cooking or eating in there. They hadn’t done much of anything at his house other than enjoy each other…
“Sure.”
She followed him quietly in her bare feet, her little whispery breaths the only audible indication she was still behind him. He removed the large plate filled with different meats and cheeses from the counter and set it on the table.
“Do you want a drink? Or can you drink, when you have a baby?”
Savannah pulled out a chair. She sat down heavily, indicating it might not have been the easiest day, or probably weekend, for her, but she smiled softly regardless.
“Yes. Because I’m not breastfeeding. Carter never did well with it and I was so frustrated and it was painful. All the time. Feedings would take like two hours and it wasn’t good for either of us so I switched to just straight bottle feeding. He’s doing well though. It’s way easier and he’s happier.”
“Oh.”
Mike set down the platter, and poured two glasses of wine, his body a rush of mixed emotions. He felt hot and shivery at the same time. Blood rushed this way and that and his heart pounded violently. Talking about Savannah’s breasts, breasts he remembered in all too perfect detail, didn’t exactly cool things down. And the fact that she’d used her body, or at least she’d tried, to feed their son made Mike’s heart warm from the inside. She’d carried him, birthed him, cared for him, loved him. An unexpected rush of tenderness washed over him as he pictured Savannah and their son cradled in her arms. The feeling hit him somewhere between the lungs, crushing the breath out of him.
“That looks good,” Savannah finally said, when he made no move to choke out any kind of words. He slowly sunk down in the chair beside her.
“Yah.” He listed off a string of names, meats and cheeses, even talked about the damn olives, all because he couldn’t figure out how to start the conversation he really wanted to. He felt like a coward, but she took the lead and it didn’t look like she minded.
“You’re probably wondering if my parents are mad. I think they were, at first. They didn’t expect me to tell them that you are so much older than I am. Don’t worry, I made sure they knew I wasn’t taken advantage of. I was the one who took the lead on even showing interest. I don’t think you ever would have if I hadn’t.”
Mike nearly blushed. God, she knew him inside and out. “Yah, you’re probably right.” He stuffed a cube of cheese into his mouth and chewed without tasting anything.
Savannah hadn’t eaten anything but she sipped her wine politely. “I think if anything they were relieved at me finally telling them. They’ve always wanted to know and they never really understood why I wouldn’t say anything. I tried to explain to them what I explained to you. I don’t think they really understood. I don’t know if I even understand. Anyway, I made it clear that I trust you and respect you and that you wanted to have a more active role in Carter’s life, or at least that’s what we were going to figure out.”
“And they were okay with that?”
“Honestly, I think so. My dad really trusts Kian and even likes him and my mom too. Since you’re friends and you work together, I think they think you must not be that bad.”
“That’s a relief I guess.”
Savannah kept sipping at her wine. Noting her glass was half empty, he poured her more. She didn’t refuse.
“I think my parents, or at least my mom, was really worried about Carter not having a father figure growing up. I could just tell by the look in her eyes that as long as you’re a good person and willing to love him, then you’re alright in her books.”
“I must say, I’m a little shocked.”
Savannah nearly choked on her sip of wine. She forced it down and laughed. “Believe me, if I had told them straight up when I found out I was pregnant, I don’t think they would have had the same reaction. My dad might have gone straight for the gun collection and you might have had to skip town. I guess, even though me not telling you probably wasn’t the right thing to do, it made it a little easier now. They’ve had time to get used to the idea. They know Carter and love him and want what’s best for him.”
“I get that. I’m just glad I don’t have to skip town now. I had no idea your parents didn’t know we were dating before.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Was I really so bad that you couldn’t tell them?”
“You know why I couldn’t tell them. I tried to explain that. I really was trying to do you a favor. My dad isn’t overprotective exactly, but he would have been pretty pissed about us.” Savannah drained the last of her wine. She’d had two almost full glasses and her eyes were a little glazed over.
He realized that she probably hadn’t had so much as a drop of alcohol in over a year. He couldn’t help himself, he stared at her face, lost himself in her dark eyes. She didn’t look away. She didn’t say anything at all. He knew the second her eyes changed, because even after a year, he still knew her. He still recognized the flames of passion creeping up, the spark of desire.
“We can work on the semantics of schedules and visits later,” he said thickly. He took a breath, debating with himself, before he finally just took the chance of a lifetime and dared to ask what had been on his mind for a year. “What about now,” he dared to ask. He didn’t really want to hear the answer. He prepared himself for a no. For an it’s too complicated. For a hard rejection. “Do you think there’s any hope for us? For a second chance?”
Savannah’s gaze never wavered. Her velvet brown eyes burned into him, giving him hope he didn’t exactly deserve to feel. She wasn’t promising him anything, yet she’d come to the shop. She’d come to his house. She was there now, sitting there staring at him like she used to, as open an invitation as he’d ever seen.
“I believe,” she whispered. “That I’m a little bit drunk.”
“Is that a no?” Disappointment began to creep into his heart, seep into his bloodstream and flood his limbs with a heavy, dead pain.
“No. It’s not a no.” It was all she got out before he shoved his chair back. She stood at the same time and when they met, it wasn’t so much as a coming together, but a crashing together, two forces reuniting, tangling, crushing.