Some days, I am such an asshole.

Today was one of those days.

At eight in the morning on the day after the reading of the will, I marched up to Mike's parents' front door and knocked firmly. His father came to the door, dressed like he was going to work, and stood there staring at me like he'd seen a ghost.

"Good morning, Mr. West," I said. "Is Mike home?" Just like we were back in high school.

"Lew," he said in a surprised voice. "I wasn't expecting to see you." The words, Ever again, hung in the air between us but I ignored them.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have been a stranger. It wasn't you that I had a problem with."

His mouth twitched and he raised a hand to scratch at his nose, trying to hide it.

"I'm not planning to set anything on fire," I promised. Not yet, anyway. We'd see after I'd spoken to Mike.

Finally, his dad stepped aside and let me in. "You sure you want to do this, Lew?"

I paused in the opening to the hallway and looked back at him. "No. Not in the least. But I think I have to. I have to know, right?"

He nodded slowly. "I am sorry. I never raised him like that."

On impulse, I came back and gave him a hug, the man who had been supposed to be my father-in-law. "I know. I'm here to see which one is the real Mike. Don't interfere, okay?"

He hugged me back and nodded. "I love him, but I'm still mad at him. That was a dirty thing."

I shrugged and stepped back. "Funny, that's exactly how I feel about him." I raised my hands in a whatcha-gonna-do kind of gesture, then headed down the hall to Mike's room.

At eight in the morning, he'd still be in bed. Not an early riser, our Micah. I'd bet he'd gotten worse since he went away—weren't those Hollywood types all night owls? So I found him exactly where I'd expected to—in a pile of bedclothes in his old bedroom. I walked into the room, closed the door behind me, then slapped the back of his head like I'd seen a cockroach. "Wake up!"

He jumped and swore, rolling over to destroy whoever had disturbed his beauty sleep, then froze when he saw me.

I raised my chin slightly and crossed my arms over my chest. "Good morning to you," I said, so polite it was like a slap.

He took it that way, too, and I can't say that it didn't please me at all. His wince made some part of me very, very happy, and I was only a little ashamed of the emotion.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I was asleep."

"Obviously." I looked him up and down. Damn, he was still so good-looking. Maybe even better than in high school—he'd grown into his bone structure and it made him somehow even more manly than I'd thought him before. My omega hormones perked right up at the naked chest and cursed the convenient sheets covering his hips. I didn't want to be mad at him anymore, but if I wasn't mad at him, I'd just fall into his arms again without a question and I couldn't let that happen. But whatever it was that had been between us in high school was still there, making my heart beat faster and my hands want to touch so badly...

"Give me a second, I'll get dressed," Mike said, breaking my train of thought.

"No!" I shouted and spun away so he couldn't see my face. I didn't want him to cover himself up. But I probably needed to, if I couldn't keep my mind on my plan. "This will only take a minute." If it took longer, I'd end up on that bed with him. If only for a cuddle. God, I missed curling up against him, breathing in his scent and basking in the warmth his body gave off.

"Okay," he said and I heard him sitting up, that particular creak that the old mattress always gave. "You got my flowers?"

"I did." I didn't turn around, just stared at the old pictures on the walls of his room.

"And my note?"

"Uh huh." Remember, he needs to work for it. "That was pretty rude."

"Rude? I thought you'd like them."

I turned around this time and stared down my nose at him. "Why would you think I'd want your flowers?"

He looked down at his lap.

Oh, God, don't look there. Now I want to...

"I only wanted to do something nice for you. I know you loved Grandma too." He turned his gaze up at me, big puppy-dog eyes that made me feel like a jerk. "I messed up again." He looked away, one hand playing with the sheets like a child waiting for a lecture.

I'd come here figuring to give him a chance, praying I was right but knowing he'd probably blow it, and hoping it would give me the closure I needed to move on with my life. But the emotion in his words struck at my heart like a hammer, and now I found myself hoping he could get his shit in a pile and be the man I knew was hiding in there underneath the actor's charming smile and practiced posing. So I nodded. "A bit. You haven't earned back the right to give me flowers." I paused, then added, "Yet," while a feeling like what-the-hell-was-I-thinking filled my brain.

His head came up so fast I half-expected to hear a sonic boom. "Yet? So maybe I could?"

"I don't know. Can you? Can you fucking keep it together and remember you're not the only goddamn one in the relationship? I'm not the star-struck teenager I was when you proposed." He winced and I squashed both my savage glee and the hurt I felt at causing him pain. I had a point to make and I didn't want to lose it in my own need to make him happy. "How long are you here for?"

"Two weeks," he said hopefully. “Well, week and a half now.”

I nodded at him and held up a hand when he started to get up. "Don't. You aren't there yet and I don't expect you'll get there. But if you're here for another while..." I started to back out of the room before I got stupider and changed my mind about that too. "So, you have ten days to convince me that the man I fell in love with is still in there somewhere under the asshole. And that he’s the one that’s in charge. Because I’ve had it with assholes."

And then I beat it the hell out of there before I threw myself on him and took it all back.