18. Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Eighteen
Meg
A s I turned the corner, Mike stood a block away in front of the church with his hands clasped behind his back. He hadn’t seen me yet and was gazing up at the bell tower, constructed of large stone bricks, not red, but beige in color. He wore a waist-length black jacket with a maroon muffler. From this distance, his long legs made him look even taller than he did up close. I liked how he wore his dark brown hair neatly trimmed, how his fashionably cropped beard suggested a hint of danger, of mystery. And it made me snigger how those black-framed glasses of his screamed geek.
I must admit the dude could be a GQ poster child for nerdy. Or maybe he could pass for Henry Cavill’s Clark Kent in Superman .
Not that I was attracted in any way. I was not going to let myself be swept off my feet by anyone. The fiasco with Lance had ruined me forever.
As I approached, I watched him, assessed him. Undeniably, I appreciated what I saw.
I glanced to the ominous-looking clouds above. Were they telling me I was a glutton for punishment?
He turned toward my way and I waved like a fellow geek, now standing at the crosswalk on the opposite corner. “Hi.”
The man grinned like Clark Kent as well. “You came.”
I looked both ways and strolled across. “You thought I wouldn’t?”
He kept his hands gripped behind his back. “Broken hearts don’t heal easily.”
“No, they do not.”
“Shall we?” he asked, charming, handsome, nice. He even liked classical music.
And I really need not to like him.
Mike didn’t take my hand but led the way inside and dropped a donation into a basket before we slipped into one of the many vacant pews toward the back. The church was enormous, and though there had to be at least fifty people sitting up front, the sanctuary still seemed empty. I’d lived in this town for nine years, yet I’d never been inside Christ Church. It was old, other-worldly, and at the rear of the altar was the largest pipe organ I’ve ever seen.
Mike rubbed his hands together. “This is going to be fabulous.”
“Who’s playing?” I asked, whispering.
“A protégé from Viterbo. I’m told over the summer he went on a European tour.”
“Oh, my, then we’re in for a treat.”
His shoulder bumped mine as he leaned closer. “I’m surprised as a librarian in this town you weren’t aware.”
“I guess I haven’t been paying attention.”
Mike glanced at me out of the corner of his eye. “Still hurting?”
I nodded. “Stupid.”
“I’d like to hear about it.”
I studied the stained-glass window on the south side of the sanctuary. It was serene in soft pinks, ivories, and grays, depicting Jesus with his hands outstretched. “I guess there’s nothing to say, except I’m gullible and naive and too trusting.”
He clasped my hand and squeezed. “Yeah, once trust is broken, it’s nearly impossible to get back.”
Though Mike’s palm was warm and comforting, I slowly slid my fingers away. “It sounds like you’re speaking from experience.”
Before he replied, a man in a tuxedo moved in front of the altar, right beneath an enormous wooden cross suspended from the domed ceiling. He gave a brief introduction and the music began, opening with a series of sonatas, growing in fervor until the unbelievably transportive finale of the Toccata and Fugue in D Minor shook the entire church.
By the time the last chord resounded through the sanctuary, I had been totally swept away with the gripping passion expressed through the music. I’d heard a lot of people play Bach with precision, but this protégé played with heart, as if his life depended on conveying the magnificence and splendor of the composer’s genius.
After the applause, we both sat silently. I, for one, was awed. I didn’t look at Mike, but I felt his presence and sensed he was in no more of a hurry to move than me .
“Would you like to go to Digger’s Sting for a drink?” he whispered only inches from my ear.
Wanting to sustain the sanctity of the moment for a few seconds longer, I nodded. The idea of going home and hiding under the covers with Maya so that I could continue wallowing in misery didn’t hold its usual appeal. Maybe I could resume my pity party after imbibing in a libation.
We agreed to walk the eight blocks, which always suited me fine. The streets were wet, flurries of snow melting as they hit the pavement.
“Did you drive to the concert?” I asked.
“Nah.” He slipped his hands in the pockets of his black jacket—which might have been a little too light for a cold November evening. I’d already broken out my puffy winter coat—Nordic blue, though my hat and muffler were bright and multicolored which I’d purchased to support the LBGTQ movement.
A brisk breeze made my cheeks cold and whisked away every steamy breath. “Where do you live?”
“Tenth Street. It’s only three blocks away from the church.”
“Nice.”
“How about you?”
“I rent.” I threw my thumb over my shoulder. “The house is on Ninth Street, same as the church and the library.”
“We’re neighbors.” His eyes shifted downward as he looked at me, grinning—a pleasing smile. Friendly. Not too sexy, but sexy enough for me to realize I needed to keep my guard up.
“Yes we are. I like living close to town. I can walk to work—walk just about everywhere.”
Mike opened the door to the restaurant and led the way to the bar. Digger’s always had a more mature crowd, but it was on the pricey end. The college kids tended to go anywhere they could find happy hour and cheap drinks. Digger’s wasn’t it.
I ordered a margarita and Mike opted for a beer.
He sipped his lager. “So, tell me about your breakup.”
I dabbed my finger on the salt, then licked it. “You don’t want to know.”
“It must have been pretty bad.”
My head dropped forward. I guess I did owe Mike some sort of explanation. “He was a douche. I should have been smarter. There were so many signs and I just ignored them all because I wanted the asshole to be Mr. Perfect. ”
“Nobody’s perfect.”
“No, but most garbage truck drivers don’t set up Facebook profiles that say they’re doctors. Then go on cruises and prey on unsuspecting women.”
Mike gaped, his gray eyes filling with disbelief—either that or disgust. “Really?”
“I wish it weren’t true.” I ended up blurting out the whole sordid story, complete with Lance’s Octoberfest antics and how Elaine had urged me to wise up and do my research.
“Unbelievable.” Mike moved his hand slightly so that our pinkies touched—just a tiny gesture, but the connection expressed his concern, showed me that he’d not only heard, but understood. “I’m so sorry.”
“I’m smarter than that. I should have Googled an image of the dude as soon as I got home.”
The pinky slipped over the top of mine. “It isn’t a crime to trust someone—especially a person you had a lot of fun with.”
“I guess. At least he didn’t string me along for years, the bastard.” I took a drink, though the margarita did nothing to drag my heart out of the doldrums. “How about you? You said breakups can be hard. Are you reeling from a bad one?”
Mike removed his pinky and pushed his empty glass to the edge of the bar, signaling for another. “It’s been a few years—college sweetheart. We were engaged but she decided she wanted more out of life.”
The dude was so incredibly nice—a little shy, smart, polished. He was totally different from Lance. Comparing the two actually made me realize I had been too gullible and had ignored far too many warning signs. “Like what?”
“Well.” He pushed his fingers over his neatly cropped hair. “She wanted to date other women.”
“Ouch.” I pulled off the muffler around my neck and rolled it in my lap. I did want to show support for all marginalized people but I also wanted to be sensitive to Mike’s feelings.
He rubbed the wool between his fingertips. “I like it. You didn’t need to take it off because I had a bad experience. If a person is gay, they’re gay.”
“Right.” I tipped my chin up. “Glad you agree.”
“Anyway, it’s over.” He batted his hand through the air. “And I’m done with feeling sorry for myself.”
“Is your breakup why you moved to La Crosse? ”
“Not really.” The bartender put a fresh beer in front of him. “I guess I initially started looking for a job outside of Madison because there were too many memories there. But once I spent some time here, I realized this place is ideal.”
I drew in a reviving breath, filling with a tad of the old hutzpah for the first time since I broke things off with Lance. “It is, isn’t it?”
“Too bad, though.”
“Why?”
He slid his hand over and laced his fingers through mine. “Here we are, two single people who both love La Crosse, who enjoy classical music, who adore libraries, and…”
My gaze dipped to his lips, shiny and moist. “And?”
“We can’t date,” he said, kissing me so quickly, my eyes flashed wide.
“I don’t think it’s a good idea,” I replied, my girl parts tingling, telling me they disagreed— traitors!
One corner of his mouth ticked up…yup, sexy and dangerous. “Yet.”
“Okay, I’ll go with yet .”
Did I really say that out loud?
“So when can I see you again?”
I guess I needed to go home and remind myself that I never wanted another boyfriend in my life.
“What are you doing for Thanksgiving?” I asked. I didn’t want to appear too anxious and the holiday was one and a half weeks away, which would give us a decent amount of time to mull things over. Lord knew I needed to, because if Mike tried to kiss me again I might end up on his lap and that was so far off my plan to stay away from men, I could wake up in the morning full of regret and have a meltdown.
“I was planning to go to my sister’s in Madison, but if you’re offering…”
“My mom’s making dinner at her house.”
“Her fixer?”
“Yes, and she has a brand-new kitchen.” I admonished myself internally, making a mental note to go over there to see it.
He reached for his beer. “It sounds like she’s been busy.”
“That’s my mom. She’s the original Energizer Bunny.”