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[Hank]
I’m insatiable for her, touching her in the shower until she gives in and gives me another orgasm. After a quick late afternoon meal of scrambled eggs and fresh toast, I know it’s time to leave.
“Don’t want your boys thinking I spent the whole day ravishing their mother.” Her face pinches at the comment, and she looks away. Something fills her eyes, but she blinks too quickly for me to catch it.
Midge has a nice house, and it reminds me of all I had and lost. I don’t want to leave, actually, but I don’t want her boys to think I’ve been hanging out all day. Last night, Ronin thought we should take her to the hospital while Elston understood her blight. One too many margaritas in her small body backfired. Liam, on the other hand, slept through the ruckus, but I worried he couldn’t miss the loud sobs of his mom. While the boys remained protective, they were willing to let me deal with her. None of them questioned my staying the night.
Turning back to me, she asks, “Did I say anything or do anything I shouldn’t have last night? Besides throwing up and ruining your shirt.”
My lips twist. How can I tell her all the things she said? Sobbing into my t-shirt, she cried about never having passion like she sees in Gage and Ivy, never being loved like Tommy must love Edie, or how I loved Kit. It broke my heart, but it wasn’t the time to explain how I’m questioning my relationship with my ex-lover more and more.
“What do you think you said?”
“If I was mean, I take it back.” My cheeks fall from the teasing grin. Mean to me? She’s adorable, and everything she says sews my heart back together.
“Don’t take it back. Don’t take any of it back.” I reach for her shoulders. She’s perched on a stool at the kitchen island, and I’m standing, ready to exit.
“What did I say?”
“Just don’t take it back.” My voice lowers, pleading with her. If she reneges her words, I’ll break.
“Hank,” she whines.
“I don’t want to tell.” I know enough to realize drunk Midge might have admitted too much. Isn’t there some saying about alcohol setting you free? Wait, maybe that’s the truth will set you free.
“How bad was it?” she asks, lowering her head and tucking her fingers into my waistband.
“You said if I asked, you’d marry me.”
“Sweet cheese,” she moans, her forehead hitting my chest. “I’m—”
I cover her mouth with my hand, stopping any words which might ruin it for me. Instead, I lift her chin and force her to look up. Her eyes remain closed, so I kiss her quickly. A light brush.
“Why do you kiss me like that? So sweet but so fast?” I stiffen, and she doesn’t miss the tension. I hadn’t realized I do it. It’s a habit. Something I’ve done with someone else. Kit didn’t allow me to kiss her in public, so I snuck in quick ones to get her attention. Sometimes, I did it to piss her off, knowing she didn’t want anyone to see us.
“I—”
“Never mind.” She cuts me off with a wave. “Don’t answer that.”
I’d like to think I’ve gotten away with not explaining, but my stomach turns. She pats my chest like she’s placating me, and I don’t like it after what we’ve done this afternoon.
“I’ll see you tomorrow at work.”
“I like the sound of that, Middy.” I do. I like seeing her every day in the garage although I know she’s smarter than our place and has more creativity than being our office manager. Still, it’s nice to see her daily.
I lean forward for the quick kiss and hesitate. Instead, I lay one on her cheek, but it doesn’t feel right. A word whispers through my head. More. Does she mean she wants me to kiss her in front of her boys? Out in public? All the time? I’d gladly oblige, but right now, I need to go.
“I’ve got a car to keep working on.” I wink.
She chuckles as she shakes her head. “I can’t believe I’ve pulled this off. It won’t be a reality until Friday, when I present to Pendelton.”
I still don’t understand why she wants to work for the man so much. In my opinion, she’s got nothing to prove to him. He seems like such an ass, but what do I know.
“Friday. I’ll bring champagne.” Her eyes widen, and I chuckle. “For you, not for me. Don’t worry.” I don’t want her to have any concern I’ll break the promise to myself and drink.
“Tomorrow first,” she says, and I smile at the thought.
As I’m driving home, I feel lighter, almost pleased with myself. It’s a strange feeling until it clicks that for the first time in years, I didn’t visit the cemetery on Sunday. I didn’t perform my ritual. I grow uneasy for a few seconds, wondering if I should head to Kit’s grave, but then I realize skipping the habit might be half the reason I feel so much better.
When I arrive at Restored Dreams, Brut scowls at me.
“What the fuck happened?”
“She had a little too much ladies’ night.” I motion with my thumb and pinky, tipping my hand toward my lips.
“You got her drunk?” He eyes me suspiciously.
“No.” I snort. “She went out with Edie, Tommy’s new wife, and Ivy.”
“Kit’s daughter?”
I nod, and Brut lets out a low whistle. “You just can’t get away from them.”
I think about it for a moment. “You know, because of them I found Midge. If Tommy hadn’t contacted the garage, inviting me to the party, I would have missed out on…” I almost say the woman of my dreams. Is she? In many ways, yes, Midge is a dream come true.
“I’d say yes if you asked me.” Drunken tears followed when she tried to backpedal, explaining she wasn’t pressuring me and she knew I wasn’t ready for something so serious. Then she argued with herself that she wasn’t ready either, claiming she was a hot mess with three boys and no job. God, can she ramble herself into a tizzy. I stroked her back and tugged back her hair, letting her get all her emotions out.
“Missed out on what?” Brut interrupts my thoughts, muttering an additional comment. “Please don’t say sex.”
“No, it’s not just sex. Midge is…different.”
“That’s like saying she has a good personality.”
“She does. She’s…special to me.”
Brut inserts a finger in his mouth, fake gagging. What are we, five? “That sounds awful. Midge is different and special, but Jesus, she could be so much more if you let her.”
More. “I am letting her.”
“Yeah, and what are you being for her?” I tap my palms on the counter. What am I being to her? Kissing her like I kissed Kit isn’t going to endear her to me. If Midge means more to me, I shouldn’t be sneaking in kisses but kissing the fuck out of her. I stare at my brother a moment.
“I don’t know.” A puff of air escapes him as he shakes his head.
“You’re a fucking idiot,” Brut mutters, picking up his tablet and typing something on the screen. “After your day off, we need help on Carlson’s Corvette, and Pendelton’s Bentley is ready for paint.” Discussion over, I’m dismissed. The shift reminds me of Kit, and I hate the restored feeling. Images of Midge’s pretty brown eyes looking up at me make me think, maybe, just maybe, she’d never dismiss me.
+ + +
On Tuesday, I get the call I’ve been waiting for.
“Doc can see you at two.” Tommy’s gruff voice shouldn’t sting, but it does. Drake Henderson was the band’s physician. The one we went to when we needed a quick hangover solution or a remedy for bad drugs. He took care of an STD for Denton Chance, our guitarist, and referred Kit to an oncologist when he suspected her cancer. He also took care of her pregnancies—that is, he delivered both her babies. After her second birth, she had her tubes tied to prevent any other mishaps. It hadn’t been a condom thing the second time around. It had been unwrapped, too quick, too fast, without a thought to what could happen. Kit never wanted that to happen again.
My heart races with a million thoughts. What will this test mean? Will the truth really set me free? If it goes one way, I’ll have lies confirmed. If it goes another direction, I’ll have some honesty, but what will I do with it?
And what will I tell Midge? I want her to know everything—no secrets—but I also feel like I’m not ready to expose all until I have answers.
“I’ll be there.” It will be the first time I’ve visited Kit’s house in almost a decade. Years of recovery after years of self-loathing after the years of her suffering and subsequent death. So many lost years, I sigh, leaning against the Corvette I should be working on, staring at the paint job on Pendelton’s beast before glancing over at my own neglected baby, the black beauty of my Mustang. The half-finished car glares at me like a metaphor for my life. A dream waiting to be restored, only can something old be renewed? Even a classic isn’t the same once it’s been revamped. I think about myself and my love for Kit in comparison. I don’t want to revive a love like I knew. I want a newer model—one unused, untattered, untainted. My eyes drift to Midge. She’s standing near the window that oversees the garage, laughing as she talks to Chopper. He’s taken a real liking to her, and I wonder if he misses the mother he never had. Her smile lights up the place. The sound of her laughter like forgotten music in my ears.
I love her.
It hits me hard, right in the chest as I stare at her across a greasy garage and through a dirty window. I love that woman, and I want to make all her dreams come true because I know she’s a dream come true for me.
First, I need to make this appointment. I have just enough time before my shift at the crisis center.
+ + +
The night is slow, and sometime around midnight, I decide to call Midge.
“You still up, baby?” I speak softly into the phone.
“Hey, yeah. You okay?” I love how she detects in my voice I might not be all right.
“Whatcha doing up so late, little lady?”
She yawns. “Working. I’m so close. I just want one more design for Pendelton.” I hear the smile in her voice, and my shoulders relax. I hadn’t realized how tense I’d been since the DNA test. Doc swabbed the inside of my cheek. Like an expectant parent, I’m nervous, anticipating the results. Within seventy-two hours, my entire life will change—one way or another. I could be a father.
“I like the sound of your voice,” I admit. I close my eyes, imagining the curve of her lips and the hint of her grin.
“That’s sweet, honey.” My heart skips a beat. She hasn’t called me names like this before. “Slow night tonight?”
“I think I’m the one who needs to talk.” I doodle on the edge of the desk calendar, scrolling out the design of music notes. I haven’t played in years, and my fingers twitch, shifting the pencil to a drumstick and tapping lightly on the pad of paper.
“What is it?” Her concern makes my eyes close again. The rapping beat of the pencil increases, the tap-tap growing louder.
“Can I ask you to go somewhere with me on Sunday, but not tell you where or why yet?”
“Sure.” She doesn’t hesitate, and the pattering pencil in my hand stops.
“Don’t want you to worry, though, okay?” Taking her with me on Sunday will be a big step in our relationship. I’m asking a lot of her without telling, but I don’t want her thinking about anything other than her interview in a few days.
“Okay.” Now, she hesitates.
“Promise me?” I tease.
“Yes, I promise.” The breathy sound ripples over my skin, and I’m the one who smiles, blushing at the thought of things I want to do to this woman.
“You okay?” she asks again, and I pick up the pencil, twirling it around, a rhythm forming in my head.
“Much better now. How are the boys?” I listen as she talks about her kids. She’s so proud of them, concerned for them, loving them. I let my mind drift, lulled into the comfort of her voice for several minutes. Hearing her stifle another yawn, I suggest I let her go, assuring her I’m much better since we spoke.
“I didn’t say anything. I just rambled.” She laughs.
“I could listen to you ramble for the rest of my life.”
“Hank,” she exhales lightly.
“Sweet dreams, cupcake.”
“Of you,” she says quietly before the phone goes dead, and another smile crosses my lips.