MICHELLE
I wasn't lying when I said Carmichael Farms is more beautiful than I remember it. We step out onto the wraparound porch of the main house—David's house now—and I lean over the railing, staring out at the rolling hills and waving grass. At the chickens scratching and pecking off in the distance. At the rich, red barn seemingly lit on fire by the setting sun.
"Come on," he says, taking my hand. "I want to show you Mouse first. She's grown so much."
David leads me across the gravel driveway towards the barn as the fresh air and post-sex afterglow melt away the stress that lives inside me on any given day. I forgot how easy life is when you're anxiety free, and I make a promise to myself not to think about anything but the two of us together while I'm here. For however long I'm at David's side, I'm going to live in the moment. I owe myself that, at least. The past is over and the future hasn't happened yet. Right now, I'm happy and that's all that matters.
The moment we step into the barn, a small herd of cats come running from the corners, their tails sticking straight up in the air and shaking happily. David crouches down to greet them, rubbing their heads and laughing as they bump against his hands and legs. "There she is," he says, pointing out a beautiful tabby making her way to him.
"That's Mouse?" I ask, incredulously. She's not a tiny kitten anymore. She's long and lean, her sinuous movements calculated and precise. She looks just like the accomplished hunter Claire wanted her to be.
"Sure is." He straightens and shoves his hands into his back pockets, staring down at the cats at his feet. "She's loving it out here."
"I can see why," I say, staring at David. "The fresh air, the exercise. You."
David smiles at me, his eyes warm and gentle. "I know I promised you a tour, but my stomach keeps reminding me that I skimped on lunch. How do you feel about skipping the tour for now in favor of getting right to dinner?" My stomach rumbles noisily and David's eyes go wide.
"Does that answer your question?" I ask.
"Without a doubt." David wraps an arm around my shoulders and leads me out of the barn. "Let's get some food in you before that thing does anything serious," he says, looking down at my stomach.
It turns out that David is the reason behind all the renovations in the kitchen. He loves to cook almost as much as he loves modern technology, and the outdated stuff I remember from when I was young wasn't cutting it for him. He updated things a couple years ago, doing most of the work himself. As David pulls tons of fresh veggies out of the large refrigerator, I imagine him shirtless and sweaty. A hammer in one hand and drill in the other, striding around the space like a Viking on a power trip.
"What?" he asks, catching me staring with what must be a dreamy smile smeared across my face.
"I like you," I reply, taking a head of lettuce and a gigantic tomato out of his hands.
"Good. I like you, too." He pulls the two liter of ginger ale out of the fridge. "Kind of a lot."
I beam. "Definitely kind of a lot," I say, bobbing my head in agreement.
"You ready to try a Jack and Ginger?" David brandishes the soda my way, a question on his face.
"Yep." I flare my hands. "What can I do to help?"
"Just keep me company while I work." He pulls two glasses out of a cupboard and pours our drinks, handing me mine and watching as I take a tentative sip.
"Wow," I say. "I don't even like whiskey, but this is actually good."
"If you didn't like whiskey, why on Earth did you agree to having Jack and Gingers tonight in the first place?"
"Because." I shrug as I run my finger along the edge of my glass. "I didn't want to be a pain. If that's the drink you want, that's the drink you should have."
"That's not the way it works with me, Michelle." His voice is both stern and gentle. "You don't have to sacrifice your needs and wants in favor of mine. In fact, I like it better when you're the one getting what she wants instead of the other way around."
The conversation makes me uncomfortable. It's not that big of a deal. I feel better when the people around me are happy. "Well, it worked out for the best because this is delicious." I take another drink just to prove my point.
David goes to work chopping up the veggies for a salad, humming as he does. "Can I ask you a question?" He wipes his hands on a dish towel sticking out of his front pocket.
I smile and lean my elbows on the counter. "Shoot."
He opens his mouth only to close it again, blowing a long breath of air out his nose and furrowing his brow. I sit up a little straighter, steeling myself against whatever he's about to ask.
"Is money tight for you?" David's gaze holds mine captive.
A million excuses try to rush past my lips but I swallow them down and find myself nodding. "Yeah," I say, appalled by the tears pricking at my eyes.
David moves quickly, closing the space between us and wrapping me in his arms. "Is it bad?"
I nod, not trusting my voice. "It's not good."
"Tell me."
And for some reason, despite all the reasons I've chosen not to tell Lexi and Bailey about my struggles, I tell David everything. "My ex ran up a lot of debt. And when I left him, I took it all on."
"Your lawyers didn't separate it out?"
"I couldn't afford a lawyer. And I wanted him gone sooner rather than later, so I offered to shoulder the burden myself. I didn't know we had fallen behind on a lot of our bills, and to make matters worse, he changed all the passwords on all of the accounts when he left and I had the hardest time getting things straightened out. The studio isn't doing very well and most weeks, Mom doesn't have enough money to give me my whole paycheck." I take a drink to quell the tears constricting my throat. "The day we met? At the shelter? I was just coming back from the sanitary engineering department because they had turned off my water." I hang my head, humiliation settling hard and heavy on my shoulders.
David lifts my chin and searches me face. "There's no shame in any of that. Divorce is hard. I had my own struggles after mine."
I hold onto that little nugget of information. "But I am ashamed," I say, giving voice to the things that keep me awake at night. "I don't want Claire to grow up thinking this is just the way life is. I want her to have the things she needs and deserves. Like, you know, running water." I swipe at the tears trickling down my face.
"Is that why you use that silly flip phone? I thought you were just being cool. You know, making some kind of ironic statement or something."
I laugh through my tears and shake my head. "No. My cell phone is not a fashion statement. I only have that thing because my stepdad bought it for me when Russell left. He couldn't stand the thought of me and Claire being stranded somewhere with no way to get a hold of anyone."
"Sounds like my kind of man." David runs his hands up my arms. "Stay here, okay? I'll be right back." He presses a kiss into my forehead and heads out of the kitchen. I use a paper towel to dab at my eyes.
Come on now, I think. Don't be that woman. Don't show up in this man's life and drop a big pile of problems at his feet. He deserves better than that. You deserve better than that.
I work up an apology and take a drink of my Jack and Ginger—it really is very good—to steel myself before David walks back in the room.
"I'm so sorry," I begin, proud of how strong my voice sounds.
"You have no reason to be sorry," he says. "I'm glad that you shared that with me. I want to know these things so I can help. Because believe me, I understand." He holds out an unsealed envelope. "And I really can help."
Confused, I take the envelope and peer inside. The tears I thought I had managed to banish come back with a vengeance when I see a large stack of money in the envelope.
"It looks like more than it is," David says. "It's mostly twenty dollar bills. But there's four hundred in there. Will that be enough?"
"Four hundred?" I squeak. I'm lucky to have ten dollars in my account at any given time. Four hundred might as well be a fortune.
"Do you need more?" David moves as if to leave the room.
"No, no, no. This is more than enough." Tears stream freely from my eyes. "In fact, it's too much. I can't take this," I say, handing him back the money.
"You can and you will." David presses the envelope towards me. "I want to help, Michelle. This is the least I can do."
Pride and logic go to war in my head. I can't take this money from him. I'm not that kind of woman. I stand on my own two feet, suffer the consequences of my bad decisions alone because that's the right thing to do. Taking money from some guy I'm sleeping with? That might as well be prostitution.
But even as I have the thought, I realize that David isn't just some guy I'm sleeping with. There's the possibility of so much more between us. And that, combined with the emotional truth of the evening, combined with the fact that I'm holding four hundred dollars cash in my hand, and the knowledge that I'm not the only one suffering my consequences—Claire is too—they all work together to overwhelm me. I close my eyes and focus on breathing, unable to do much more than exist.
"Michelle." David's fingers brush my cheeks. "Look at me."
I open my eyes and find his gentle gaze locked on mine, so much tenderness and affection in his stare that it drowns me. How can I breathe with the ugly truth of my life exposed?
"It would make me happy to know you're comfortable. I can't stand the thought of you or Claire having to go without something you need. Please take the money. I'll have more for you next month, if you need it."
Another round of protestations work their way up, only for David to squash them right back down again. Before I know it, the envelope is sitting politely in my purse and I'm breathing a little easier, feeling even closer to David than I did before I came here, even though my mind is going with worry. What if I can’t pay him back? What if he sees me less as an equal and more as someone he has to take care of? What if this moment of kindness becomes a point of bitterness between us?
While we eat dinner, I fight the worry by mentally going through my budget, finding all the ways the extra money will give me and Claire some breathing room. I’ll see if I can pick up some side jobs and make enough money to pay him back. My smile comes easier and easier as we spend the next couple hours together, and by the time I kiss David goodbye, I'm feeling better than I have for as long as I can remember.