28. CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
M ICAH
The next day, Declan sends me an early text to “meet him in the office for vital business matters.”
Yes, that’s actually how he phrases it because the anal man can’t simply text someone, “Hey, come over and let’s talk.” Or even just call. I mean he knows I’m better with phone calls than texting, so a call would be the best way to reach me. But he probably thinks calling would indicate some kind of friendship between us and God forbid he ever admit such a thing.
I smirk as I reread the message, shaking my head. After all that time we’ve spent together and all we’ve been through including him literally bleeding on me, Declan doesn’t seem ready to accept our friendship yet.
Oh well. I’m not in a hurry. I’ll wear him down eventually.
After replying to his text with a cheery “okey dokey,” I turn over to watch Carly, still fast asleep in bed. Her hair is all mussed around her face and her mouth is slightly open, a trail of drool streaking her cheek. She didn’t wipe her mascara off yesterday and it leaked down her eyes, giving her the look of a goth chick going through a bad breakup. One hand is thrown over half her face, and the other clutches the blanket, as though someone’s going to steal it from her. As if she’s not the worst blanket hog in the entire world.
I shake my head, feeling a smile slowly spread my lips.
She’s a mess. A vibrant, crazy, gorgeous mess.
I keep watching her for even more seconds, reaching over to draw her hair back over so I can take in even more of her features. I can’t believe what she told me yesterday about her being jealous of Tate Moon. I mean I guess I can believe it since I saw the way her mood changed when I talked to Tate, but I can’t believe that (A) she would think that I would flirt with another woman in front of her (elderly nurses don’t count), and (B) she actually thought Tate was better than her.
How on earth does Carly not see how gorgeous and amazing she is?
Who did such a number on her that she can’t even see her own worth?
Moreover, I thought I made it clear how crazy I am about her, and how hard it is to even notice anyone else when she’s around. It’s something I’ve pondered and tried to wrap my head around, but I can’t, so I’ve simply just accepted that she’s captivated me. And yeah, Tate is pretty, I suppose, and her mother is fascinatingly terrifying, but none of them have held my interest even half as much as Carly does. None of them form distinct images that pop up in my head often, of her eyes sparking with ire, or when her lips get that sarcastic quirk to them. Or when she says something witty or rolls her eyes at one of my antics.
I don’t know how to describe the feeling Carly gives me. It’s not just the lust, and I don’t just like her. I feel... more myself when I’m with her. She’s comfortable, like a warm blanket by the fireplace. Like I can relax and not worry about being the Micah Landing everyone else expects me to be.
I don’t have to be the replacement for my brother like my dad expects.
Or a true blueblood like my grandfather wants.
Or the good Christian child my mother always wanted.
And I don’t have to be the life of the party either. Most of my friends expect that side of me, and while it’s fun sometimes, it’s exhausting.
But with her, I can just be Micah. Last night proved it. When we opened up to each other, baring our vulnerability, I somehow didn’t feel the need to hold back. I wanted her to see all of me, even the childish parts of me that made me feel small. And I think she wanted the same in reverse. There was nothing she could have said last night that would have made me see her as any less. And maybe she felt the same way about me.
I don’t know. But I didn’t want the night to end.
And I hope this fling lasts for a good while, because I’d like to explore this “fun” for as long as possible. Of course, until I inevitably get bored of it, at which point we’ll go our separate ways, no harm no foul.
I see her eyes squeeze shut, and her eyebrows furrow, as though preternaturally detecting that she’s being watched.
I take advantage of that to lay a soft kiss on her lips. “Rise and shine sleeping beauty.”
“Ugh…” she groans, one eye opening and squinting up at me. “Oh, I hate you. You look so nice and put together when you wake up and I look like the witch who gave snow white the apple.”
I chuckle. “Well, technically that witch was also a beautiful queen so… I guess I see the resemblance.”
“Are you trying to butter me up by saying I look both like a witch and like a queen?”
“The dichotomy of woman.”
She levels a weak punch at my arm and I laugh as I catch her fist, once again pressing it against my lips.
“What are you up to today?” I ask her.
“School.” She stretches as she replies. “I have to be there at nine a.m. Speaking of which, what time is it?”
I check the clock on the other side of the bed. “Eight-thirty.”
She freezes, then instantly bolts up in bed. “You’re kidding.”
“Nope.” And she confirms for herself when her eyes meet the hands of the clock. That sends her careening over as she tumbles out of bed to grab her jeans.
“Oh my gosh, why didn’t you wake me up? I’m going to be late. Oh, God, and it just had to be Kennedy’s class that I’m going to be late for. I know he’s just dying to mark me absent and destroy my perfect attendance. Seriously, Micah, you should have woken me up.”
“I didn’t know what time your class was.” I shrug. “Plus, you looked so beautiful when you were sleeping, I was entranced by your spell.”
That earns me an oh-so-delightful eye roll as she runs around getting ready, gathering her hair in a bun at the top of her head, brushing her teeth, washing her face, pulling on clothes.
Meanwhile, I head over to the kitchen area and make her some coffee (lots of cream like she likes it), and also order a breakfast sandwich over the phone to be quickly wrapped and brought up.
“Hey.” She pokes her head out of the bathroom and holds up my shirt. “Can I borrow this? I don’t want to wear my shirt. It smells like fish.”
“Knock yourself out,” I say and she goes back in. It only takes her a few minutes to get ready and by that time, the sandwich has arrived and I also have her coffee in a monogrammed hotel mug ready to go for her. I would have put it in a Stanley cup or a thermos if I had one, but alas, I have to make do.
I hand it to her when we finally get into the car, and that’s when she realizes what I’m holding in my hand.
“You ordered that for me?”
“Yup,” I say. “And made the coffee too. Breakfast is the most important meal of the day as my grandmother used to say. Of course, she also lived on a steady diet of coffee and cigars. She was more of a do-as-I-say-not-as-I-do kind of woman.”
Her eyes soften as she takes it and says a tad shyly. “Thank you.”
“No problem.”
Throughout the drive, Carly keeps sipping her coffee and eating her sandwich, throwing me grateful looks as though I gave her a kidney rather than overpriced hotel breakfast food. I mean I don’t mind her gratitude, but the fact she’s gushing so much over so little means that she’s very much not used to people doing stuff like that for her, at least not the men she dates.
“None of your former boyfriends ever got you food?” I inquire as I overtake a jeep on the highway.
She snorts so hard she nearly spills her coffee. “What boyfriend?”
“You’ve never had a boyfriend?”
“Nah.” She shakes her head. “I was always too busy to date, and then there was my family to think about. Everyone in town knew who they were, and parents warned their little boys to stay away from me.”
“And they all did?” In my experience, teenage boys weren’t so good at taking their parents’ advice.
“Not all of them. But the ones who didn’t were only interested in hookups so that was all we did.
I gape at her. “Seriously?”
She nods.
I turn back to the wheel, indignant. I feel a violent surge of anger toward all those boys who used her like that. I mean, yeah, I know teenage boys can be stupid but... still.
“Relax,” she giggles. “It wasn’t like that. I was also just interested in hooking up. Most of them were either dumb jocks or they were out-of-towners who I’d never see again, which is good because I didn’t want to get a reputation.
Ah, yes. Small towns and the ever-important reputation.
I’m still mad at them though, and at their parents and everyone else in this damn town who made her bear scorn for things that weren’t her fault. Jeez, no wonder she had low self-esteem.
And all those jackasses took advantage of it. “Assholes.”
She gives me an amused look. “Really? You’re that bothered by it?”
“Of course.”
“Isn’t that exactly what you used to do to the women you dated?”
“No,” I deny instantly. “I never rejected them for their background.”
Carly sent me an amused, yet disbelieving look.
“I didn’t,” I say. “It’s only recently, thanks to my grandpa’s whole ultimatum, that I even paid attention to such things. I never cared about who their parents were or where they were from.”
“So why did you reject them?”
I hesitate, trying to think of it. “I don’t know. It just never felt... right.”
She eyes me for a few more seconds, then sips her coffee and turns away.
But the more I look at it, the more I realize that I was callous in my treatment of those women the same way those men were callous in their treatment of Carly.
Up until Carly, I only had extremely casual relationships. As much as I tried to go for women who knew the score and only wanted something casual from me in return, I knew that quite a few of them inevitably ended up catching some kind of feelings for me. And I wouldn’t always move on when they did. Sometimes I would string them along simply because I was bored, or because the sex was good and I didn’t want to bother with the whole breakup drama. And then when I had my feelings, I would simply disappear from their lives.
And then it hits me, the uncomfortable, ugly truth. I’m not just as bad as those men. I’m worse.
And though Carly pretends like she doesn’t care, some part of it must sting.
It’s not often I’m ashamed of my actions, but shame peppers my thoughts even after I drop Carly off from school.
I head back to Laketown for the meeting with Declan, only for him to postpone it to the afternoon so he can spend time with his daughter. I don’t mind. I get that his daughter comes first.
I decide to get breakfast at a restaurant opposite the Tiki Bar called My Fair Lady Steakhouse. They’re offering a breakfast buffet and it doesn’t smell half bad. The place has a rustic, old bed-and-breakfast vibe mixed with log cabin charm. The smell of sizzling bacon and rich coffee colors the air, and my mouth waters.
Conversations buzz around me as I walk to the front, where a tall, curvy woman with sad eyes stares at me from behind the counter.
I smile at her, but she doesn’t smile back. And I guess I do it for a tad too long because her frown deepens.
“What do you want?” she says.
“Well, some food would be nice,” I quip but she still doesn’t crack a smile.
“You the owner?” I ask because she gives off an aura of command.
She nods and simply gestures down the line, looking away dismissively.
As I go down the line, a rounder, kindly older woman in front of me, leans in to whisper, “You’ll have to forgive, Lou. She’s having a bad few months and her boyfriend just got locked up.”
“Really?”
She nods, but she doesn’t say anything more.
After I’m done grabbing some bacon, eggs, steak, and a coffee, I search around for somewhere to sit. Though the venue is packed, I manage to find an empty table where I can spend time with my own thoughts, and guilt, alone.
Or at least alone for the first few minutes of my meal. Before I finish up, Poppy and the kindly woman from before walk up to my table.
Poppy sits without any invitation, but the older woman asks, “Young man, can you please pull that out for me?”
“Sure thing.” Not sure what this is about, but I get up and help her into a seat.
“Good.” She sighs as she settles. “I gotta wait for my antacids to kick in or I’m going to be farting up a storm on my way out of here.”
“Ah.” Instantly, I know who the woman is. “You must be Mrs. Peach.”
Carly told me about her and her tendency to mention her stomach issues even in polite company.
“That I am. My Carly told you about me, didn’t she? Of course, she did.” She answers her own question, her smile widening. “You know, I heard you attended the picnic with my Carly yesterday. I hope you don’t mind me being a nosy Nelly, but that little girl is like a daughter to me and I don’t want her hurt. So I want to make sure you have only the purest intentions toward her. You picking up what I’m putting down?”
I take a sip of my coffee and say, “I think so.”
“You better know so,” Poppy says, giving me a hard look. “I’ve seen your type before, city boys looking to schlub it with a small-town girl and then taking off when they get her pregnant or worse. If you think you can do that to Carly, you’ve got another think coming. I’ve got a little friend here that I can introduce to your caboose anytime you fuck up. So don’t fuck up. You got it?”
I raise an eyebrow at the thinly veiled threat. “I got it. My caboose likes to be intact, so I won’t fuck up. Look, I’m not trying to hurt Carly. We’re not...” I don’t want to tell these women we’re just sleeping together because I have a feeling Poppy might plug me with a warning shot if I do. So I say, “Everything’s still new and we’re not really sure what this is yet. But I assure you I’m being as honest and fair to her as I can be. And don’t ever say that schlubbing thing about her again. Nothing schlubby about Carly.” That last part comes out in a harder tone than I expected, and I can tell it surprises the women.
Poppy peers at me. “You know what folks around here say about her right?”
“Yeah,” I meet the older woman’s gaze head-on. “And I don’t give a damn. Stupid people are stupid people. They can think whatever they want. Carly is an amazing woman and I’m proud to be dating her.” I shrug.
The two women share a long look and then Mrs. Peach turns back to me with a glint in her eyes. She beams. “When you’re done eating, you should come with us, Mitch.”
“It’s Micah,” I correct smoothly. “And where to?”
“To St. Jude. It’s bible study today.”
“Oh, erm...” I murmur a little awkwardly. “You should know I’m not really religious.”
Her smile only widens. “It’s alright. Jesus doesn’t mind.”