Chapter 20
LUCY
Once Bella leaves, I clean the kitchen, hoping to dispel my nervous energy.
The sounds of farts and laughter filter down the stairs.
Is this what it’s like to have help? One of us corralling the kids while the other cleans up behind them?
It’s oddly domestic, and the idea of having more of this and maybe making it a permanent thing one day fills me with peace.
I let out a long exhale as the house quiets, and I hear Mike sneak down the stairs.
“Sorry to just show up tonight. Bella and I didn’t plan that, I swear.”
In all the chaos, I just realized he never said why he was here; only Bella had mentioned her reason for stopping by. “I’m glad you came. Do you want to stay and have a glass of wine? Maybe watch an episode of Bluey?”
“Please don’t tell me you think the Heelers are doing it?”
I laugh. “They absolutely are, but I also think that Bandit and Chili run an international crime ring. Oh, and Chili totally reads spicy books.”
“I saw the theory about the book.”
“You did?” I sit on the couch, and he joins me.
“Aye, came across my social media feed when I was doom-scrolling one night. My phone must be listening to us talking about cartoons fucking.”
“It was one conversation.” I roll my eyes and playfully shove him. “But I do think they are smuggling artifacts. Think about it, he’s an archeologist uncovering treasures, and she works in airport security. It’s the perfect cover!”
“Or they’re just dogs doing jobs that real-life dogs might do, you know, digging for bones or sniffing for bombs at an airport.”
“I think my theory is more fun.” I pout, sticking out my lower lip, and Mike leans over capturing it between his teeth, nipping on it, and then kissing me roughly.
When he pulls back seconds later, I’m breathless. “What was that for?”
“You can’t stick that plump little lip out and not expect me to devour it, a chroí.”
“Oh.”
“I’m happy to watch Bluey with you, but can we watch the FaceTime one with Muffin? It kinda reminds me of our FaceTime run-in.”
I can feel the blush cover my cheeks as I sink lower on the couch. “It’s called ‘Faceytalk.’”
He smiles at me, throwing his arm around me, and we watch the entire episode.
Each time Mike chuckles at something on the screen, I’m filled with warmth until I think about my conversation with Bella and what I need to talk to him about.
When the episode ends, I let the next one play as I keep my eyes on the screen. “Can I ask you something?”
“Anything.” He angles his body toward mine, and I twist my hands together as I piece together how to word things.
“You said you wanted a big family.”
“I did. Ma’s been on me for years to settle down and start a family.”
“I get that it’s important to your parents, but is that something you want? Four or five kids? Or just something you say to please your folks?”
He searches my face before answering. “Aye. I do want that. Though some days I think that’s too many kids.”
“Trust me, it’s too many. So what’s stopping you?” I ask. There has to be a reason he’s never settled down before now, and I cling to the delusion that maybe it’s because he doesn’t really want that many kids.
“I don’t think I’d be a good dad. Got a lot of growing up to do.”
I stare at him in disbelief. That was the last answer I was expecting. “Are you kidding me?”
“Nope. I know I’m a good time, but that’s all I am. It takes more than fart jokes at bedtime to make someone a good dad. And I don’t feel like I’ve had much more than that to offer.”
His vulnerable admission stuns me. “Mike, you have to know you are so much more than that.”
“Am I now?”
“Yes. You’re incredible with my boys. They love hanging out with you. I think you’ll make an amazing father one day.”
“I make fart noises, and they laugh. I entertain ’em, that’s all.”
“Fart jokes are always funny. But you make my boys feel seen. You light up when you see them, and you give them your full attention when most people brush them off as nuisances to be seen and not heard.”
“I could never ignore them. They’re too feckin’ cute.”
“You make them feel valued and loved.”
“They’re easy to love.” He stares at me intently, and while I normally would panic under such intense scrutiny, I can’t look away.
“You would make an incredible father. Any kid would be lucky to have you as their dad. My kids would be lucky to have a dad like you.”
“Careful there, Lucky. That’s not casual talk.”
I drop my head, looking down at my lap as I fidget with my hands, avoiding eye contact with him as I weigh out how much to admit.
Fuck it.
“What if I don’t want casual anymore?”
“Thank fuck.” He hooks a finger under my chin and tilts my head toward his as he closes the distance between us and seals his lips to mine, taking his time to devour me like I’m the last pint of Guinness at a crowded bar on St. Patrick’s Day.
“I didn’t want to be the first to admit that,” he says between kisses.
I pull back, placing my hands on his chest, preventing him from kissing me further. He’s hinted at wanting more, but have I really been that daft not to see his sincerity? “How long have you felt this way?” My tone is gentle, laced with concern as my eyes search his for the truth.
“Longer than I care to admit.”
My brow furrows. “Please. I need to know.”
“Since the hospital.”
“When I ran into a wall?”
“Aye.”
“The whole time?”
“The whole time.” His eyes are filled with warmth as he strokes my cheek.
Maybe I can tell him. It’s clear that I mean a lot to him, that he might even love me. Surely, I could tell him the truth and it wouldn’t blow up in my face. Maybe this is the time when Lady Luck is finally on my side.
“I wasn’t lying each time I told you how I felt. It took everything in me to hold back how deep my longing runs for you. I didn’t want to scare you off.”
I swallow thickly, ready to give up a little piece of my shell.
“People have always let me down. My dad. My mom. My sister, even though it wasn’t really her fault.
And all the men I’ve dated. Especially the last one.
He didn’t want kids, and it was all I wanted.
It’s made it very hard for me to want to let people into my circle.
And my friends are amazing, but I have a hard time allowing myself to rely on them. ”
“I’m sorry to hear that, but I’d like to be someone you can count on. I’ll probably make mistakes since I’ve never been a dad to anyone. But I will get better if you’re willing to let me try. I want to try, for the three of you.”
I nod like an idiot, and he grabs my hand, bringing the back of it to his mouth, placing a gentle kiss on it.
“That tickles.”
“What does?”
“Your mustache.”
He tugs me close, still holding my hand, then peppers kisses up my bare arm.
When he gets to my neck, he hovers as if waiting for permission.
I tilt my head, exposing more flesh to him, and he dives in greedily, sucking and nipping the sensitive skin there.
“That feels—” I don’t get the chance to finish that thought before his lips are on mine.
His thick arms envelop me, pulling me onto his lap so I’m straddling him while he holds me in place, one arm cupping the back of my neck, the other wrapped around the back of my waist.
And for the first time in my life, I feel safe, totally at peace.
There are no other thoughts in my head aside from the utter pleasure this man makes me feel.
I’m not worried if my breath smells good enough, if my body isn’t perfect, if I’m crushing him, if he’ll leave after.
And for once I’m not consumed with my pessimistic thoughts that I’ll somehow fuck this up too.
All I can think about is the way this man holds me like he worships me.
Like he wants me more than anything else on this planet.
It’s intoxicating knowing I have this kind of effect on someone.
Me. A single mom to two little boys. A woman whose body isn’t what it used to be.
Whose mind is a scary, anxiety-ridden fever dream.
As if he can sense the subtle shift in my thoughts, he grips me tighter, sliding his hand from my neck into my hair, tugging gently as he breaks the kiss and licks and sucks down my neck and jaw.
The way his tongue moves against me feels divine, like an answer to a prayer when all I asked for was mind-numbing pleasure. An idea forms in my head.
“I want to sit on your face.” The words come out of nowhere and I cringe at my boldness, but he growls against my neck and nips at my earlobe.
“Can you be quiet, a chroí?”
I balk at the eagerness in his tone. I expected some resistance, if not a downright refusal. “Just like that?”
“When are ya going to believe me when I say that I want to please ya? Explore every beautiful feckin’ inch of ya? Lap at your perfect pink cunt as it drips all over me, knowing that it glistens only for me?”
His accent always gets more pronounced when he’s aroused, and I love that I know that about him. That I’ve learned some of his mannerisms the way he’s learned mine.
He taps my thigh, and I hop up, reaching over to turn off the TV as I set the remote on the arm of the couch. He leans down and hoists me over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.
When I open my mouth to protest, he swats my ass with just enough force to suck the breath from my lungs. “If you’re about to open that beautiful mouth and say something mean about this gorgeous feckin’ body, shut it.”
I can’t help the lovesick smile on my face, and I’m thankful he can’t see it. He carries me up the stairs, down the hall, and into my room, using his foot to close the door behind us.
“Lock it,” I squeal as he tosses me onto the bed, and I land with a soft thud.
He turns back to the door, opens it, and pokes his head into the hallway. Once he’s satisfied, he quietly closes and locks it. Then he walks to the bathroom, returning with a towel a few seconds later, shoving it against the bottom of the door.