Chapter Eight
Mike was a mess. His body strained for one thing, his mind for another, and his heart sat in the middle, abstaining from this particular vote. He didn’t really know what he wanted. Or maybe it was more that he did know what he wanted, but felt bad about wanting it? Either way, he didn’t feel good about dragging Sophie into it, but he also wasn’t comfortable with putting Sophie in a stranger’s car and sending her on her way. They’d both had several drinks. What if he got her a rideshare, tucked her into it, and she never made it back to her flat? He couldn’t handle that.
Which meant they were now sharing a very silent, very awkward ride together, the air so thick with tension he could practically scoop it like ice cream. She wouldn’t look at him. Was she angry? Hurt? He clasped the back of his neck with one hand. Tremblay, once again, you’re an absolute bell end.
The driver was chatty. Mike responded, not really paying attention to what he was saying, his mind whirring and cycling through various levels of despair. Kissing Sophie had felt . . . amazing. There was no other word for it. If they hadn’t been in a public park – and he hadn’t panicked – he was pretty sure they’d both be half naked by now.
Chemistry. Pure, unfiltered, high-octane chemistry. They had it. He couldn’t argue otherwise. Sex, if they decided to go that far, would be the kind of sex people wrote songs about. And while his body was thrumming, demanding he do exactly that, the rest of him was a tangled confusion of fear, panic and guilt.
He’d had sex since he lost his wife. It had been nice, generally. Fun, but more like taking care of a chore than anything really passionate. He’d never thought he’d find anything like he and Tara had managed when they were together, but while kissing Sophie was very different, it was on the same level.
And it was fucking with his head.
The driver came to a stop, Sophie’s building looming above them. Mike paid the driver, climbing out behind her without thinking. He just knew he wouldn’t feel right until he delivered her to her door.
She watched him, her expression unreadable. ‘What are you doing?’
‘Seeing you home.’
She shook her head. ‘You really don’t have to do that.’
‘Yes,’ Mike said quietly, ‘I do.’ Her expression stayed carefully blank, which he understood, but her eyes were sad, which he hated. ‘Please, let me at least see you to your door, Sophie.’
‘Fine,’ she said. ‘Suit yourself, but you’re being ridiculous.’
‘No argument there,’ Mike said. Because he was being ridiculous, but he wouldn’t feel better until she was safely home.
They took the lift up, Sophie silent, her mouth downturned. Mike felt like shit, which was a weirdly comfortable feeling. He was used to feeling like shit.
The lift dinged, letting them out on her floor. Mike followed her, hovering behind her as she wobbled on her heels. He waited as she got out her keys and opened her door.
The door clicked and she stepped out of her shoes before crossing the threshold. She tossed them inside, looking up at him, not saying anything.
He wasn’t entirely sure what he wanted to do, but he didn’t want to leave it like this, either. ‘Sophie—’
She shook her head. ‘Not sure I want to hear whatever you’re going to say in that tone.’
He shoved his hands into his pockets. ‘Fair enough. Despite—’ He stopped, reorganizing his thoughts. ‘I had a good time tonight.’
She scrunched up her nose and for fuck’s sake, why was that so cute? ‘Really?’
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I really did, but I shouldn’t have . . .’ He ran a hand through his hair, flustered. Why were words so bloody difficult? He had a lot of them running through his head, but the only ones that came out were, ‘I shouldn’t have kissed you. I’m so sorry.’
Sophie paled.
As usual, he was making it worse. ‘That wasn’t . . .’ He had no idea how he was going to finish that sentence.
Sophie shook her head. ‘Wow, okay, please stop. I would pay fifty pounds to not have this conversation right now. Let’s just leave it, please.’
‘Of course,’ he said. ‘I’m so sorry.’
She handed him back his jacket. ‘Here.’
He took it, lips pressed tight, swimming in misery. This was why he didn’t date. This feeling right here.
She sighed, suddenly looking tired. ‘Thank you for the dancing.’
He nodded, miserable.
Then she very quietly shut the door and Mike stood there feeling like the worst human on earth.
He heard footsteps behind him, which he ignored until a wiry younger man stopped at the door next to him, his gaze narrowed on Mike. ‘Did you make her cry?’
‘Probably.’ Mike closed his eyes for a moment and grimaced. ‘Most definitely.’
The stranger made a disgusted sound. ‘No one should make her cry.’ He pointed at the closed door. ‘That woman right there, she’s a gift. You kiss her feet, you don’t make her cry.’
‘I know.’
‘Then why did you do it?’
Mike sighed. ‘Because I’m a fucking miserable git.’
‘I don’t know what that means,’ the man admitted. ‘But from your tone, it’s not a good thing.’ His glower deepened. ‘Maybe you should go home. Don’t come back until you can treat her right.’
Mike nodded, but he wasn’t sure the man saw him before that door clicked shut in his face as well.
Mike had been miserable when he got home. He’d taken a shower, hoping to wash away the bitter end to the evening. His heart felt leaden, sinking down into his gut. As soon as he was dry enough, he pulled out his laptop and typed out an email to his work team that he’d be working from home tomorrow because he wasn’t feeling well. He was supposed to meet them at nine, but the idea of going about his day in the morning felt about as appealing as splitting open his own chest with his bare hands right now.
Once he’d sent the email, he climbed into bed, naked, his hair still wet from the shower, and immediately passed out.
And apparently left his ringer on, because he was woken up by it the following morning. He couldn’t think of who would be calling him at this time. Mike climbed out of bed, blinking at his phone. It was noon. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d slept that long. He pulled on a pair of pyjama trousers and stumbled to the kitchen. His phone had stopped ringing, which was good, because he wasn’t going to speak to a single person before he had a cup of coffee in his hands. As he got the coffee brewing, his phone started up again.
Mike gave up and fetched the infernal device. Rahul’s name flashed across the screen, a picture of his son kissing his husband’s cheek flashing right below it. Mike let out a breath, set the phone up on the counter and clicked the accept button.
His son appeared on the screen, cigarette in hand, as he leaned against the side of his house. ‘Well, thank fuck, there you are.’
‘Here I am.’ Or as here as he was going to get right now. He felt blurry from sleep, his mouth thick, his movements clumsy.
Rahul took a drag on his cigarette, his gaze razor sharp. ‘You look absolutely wretched, Da.’
Mike propped his elbows on the counter. ‘You’re not supposed to be smoking. Noah’s going to lose it.’
Rahul pointed at the screen. ‘That’s between me and the love of my life. I’m not calling about that.’
Unable to wait any longer, Mike fetched a mug and placed it directly under the coffee spout. ‘Then why are you calling?’
‘Because your daughter has been blowing up my phone for the last hour, that’s why.’
He frowned. ‘Amaya? Why? Oh god, has Barney died already?’
‘Who the fuck is Barney?’ Rahul asked, then flicked his hand. ‘Never mind. No, that’s not why she was calling. She was calling because you showed up on a certain blog this morning.’
‘Oh no,’ Mike groaned. ‘Was it bad? Does she hate me?’
Rahul’s eyes narrowed. ‘Why would you ask that? What did you do ?’
Mike sighed, grabbing his coffee and setting the jug back with his other hand as he sipped. Cream, he definitely needed cream. ‘I’m not sure I want to get into this particular topic with my son.’
Rahul made a disgruntled noise. ‘Who you going to talk about it to, then? Amaya?’
‘No,’ Mike said, his voice firm. ‘That’s even worse.’
‘Then I’m it, aren’t I?’ Rahul asked, looking off screen. ‘Shit.’ He threw down his cigarette and stomped on it.
‘Yes, because I absolutely didn’t see you smoking just then.’ Noah’s dry voice drifted in from off screen. Then his face appeared, blond hair slicked back, grey eyes merry. ‘Is that your dad?’ He grinned. ‘Michael, how are you?’
‘He’s fucking miserable, that’s what,’ Rahul said, his tone softening as he continued. ‘Sorry. I know I said I’d quit—’
Noah rolled his eyes indulgently. ‘Later, love. Why’s your dad miserable?’
‘That’s what I’m trying to find out. All I know is he had a cameo on this woman’s travel blog and when I called him, he looked like something you’d find on the floor of the tube.’
Noah made a face. ‘Wait, the airport woman? Swanning About ?’
‘Yeah,’ Rahul said.
Noah held up a finger. ‘Wait please.’ He took out his phone, pulling up Sophie’s blog.
Mike took this opportunity to stir cream into his coffee and drink it, wishing, not for the first time, that he could just dump it directly into his veins.
Noah stared at his phone, his eyes wide, his hand over his mouth. By the end of it, he had his hand on his chest. ‘Michael Tremblay, I didn’t know you had it in you.’
Mike groaned, his hand over his eyes. ‘I haven’t seen it. How bad is it?’
‘Honestly?’ Noah said, his brows high. ‘You’re adorable together. The energy between you pops on the screen.’ He shook his head. ‘There is much buzz in the comments.’
He pinched his eyes shut. ‘Sophie’s probably livid.’
‘Why?’ Noah asked. ‘I know you haven’t seen it yet, but the fans love you. They’re asking who you are and if you’ll show up in more videos. Honestly, the comment section is usually a mire of troll behaviour, but this one is oddly wholesome.’
Rahul peered over his shoulder, looking at the comments. ‘Who’s Andrew?’
‘Her arsehole of an ex-husband,’ Mike said into his coffee. ‘They’re comparing me to that bastard? Is Sophie?’ The first wouldn’t be great, but the second . . .
‘Contrasting, mostly,’ Noah said. ‘Lots of “you go, girl” energy.’
‘That’s something, at least,’ Mike said with a sigh.
‘I think we’re going to need it all, Dad,’ Rahul said. ‘Spill.’
‘Boundaries— ’
Noah cut him off. ‘With all due respect, Mike, boundaries can go hang. You cannot dangle this kind of delicious morsel in front of us after years of nothing and expect us to ignore it.’
‘He’s right, Dad,’ Rahul said. ‘You’ve really only brought this on yourself. We want the tea.’
‘The tea?’ Mike asked.
‘The gossip,’ Noah clarified. ‘And quickly, please – my mum is only here for another thirty minutes, and she’s handling the children.’
Mike’s instinct, the one that had been keeping him alive since Tara’s death, was to stay silent. Close off and deny. It had kept him safe, but it had also been utterly exhausting . He was so very tired of keeping everything locked down and inside. Still, he wavered on that tightrope, his instinct screaming at him to protect his kids from this. They’d had enough pain, they’d had enough grief, they’d—
‘Da,’ Rahul said, his voice sharp. ‘I’ve let this slide. Both Amaya and I – leaving you be, waiting for you to heal . . . We know you loved Mum. Putting yourself out there, trying – Da, she’d want that. We want that. So please, for the love of fucking everything holy on this spinning orb, tell us what happened.’
And really, what was he going to say to that? Mike gave up and told them an edited version of the previous night, leaving out the more . . . personal bits. The softness of her skin, the taste of her, the feel of her body beneath his hands as they danced, the pulse of his desire like a second heartbeat. Some things you just didn’t share.
By the end of this tale, Rahul was banging the back of his head against the side of the house and Noah was frowning.
‘Well,’ Noah said to his husband with a sigh, ‘I’m starting to understand why you were so difficult when we got together.’
Rahul turned his head, his expression irritated. ‘What are you on about?’
Noah waved a hand. ‘I’m just saying, a lot of stuff is making sense. You are just like your father.’
Rahul scowled at him. ‘What does that mean?’
Mike poured himself another cup of coffee. ‘Not loving that I’m being touted as a negative here, but weirdly I also can’t argue against it.’
Noah placed a hand on Rahul’s chin. ‘You’ve worked hard, my heart, but remember how long it took you to tell me you loved me?’ Rahul looked disgruntled by this, but softened after Noah kissed his cheek.
Noah leaned into his husband and let out a sigh. ‘And you’re even worse, Mike. I love you dearly , but you’re making yourself miserable. Did you have a good time last night?’
‘Yes,’ Mike admitted.
‘Then what’s the problem?’ Noah asked gently.
It was the gentleness that undid him, making the words that Mike wanted so desperately to hold close to his chest spill out. ‘I can’t give her what she needs. I can’t – I don’t know if I can love anyone again the way I loved Tara.’
Noah’s face was sympathetic, while Rahul dropped his gaze, his throat working.
‘I loved her so much,’ Mike said, his voice breaking. ‘She was my heart .’
Noah made a soft sound, an understanding hum. ‘I never got to meet Tara, but from what I know, Mike, she would hate that you’re denying yourself happiness. Be upfront with this woman. Tell her that you might not be able to give her anything permanent. Why can’t you enjoy now ?’
Mike’s head snapped up. ‘That seems . . . She deserves more, surely?’
Rahul sighed. ‘I’m so glad I’m not straight. Straight men are exhausting .’
Noah shook his head. ‘Mike, has it occurred to you that she might not want more right now either? She just got divorced. In her place, I’m not sure I’d want to be looking for anything but a for-now kind of hook-up.’
It had literally never occurred to Mike that Sophie might want anything other than something long term. He blinked at them, words failing him.
‘Bloody hell, Dad, did you even talk to this woman?’ Rahul looked at Mike’s expression and shook his head. ‘For fuck’s sake, try and catch up with the times. You’d better phone this Sophie and apologize on your knees.’
‘He’s right,’ Noah said gently. ‘You made a pretty big assumption there. At the very least, you need to apologize for how you acted and try to explain, if you want to salvage any kind of friendship with her.’
‘And go big, Da. There’s no way you can go too lightly on the grovelling here,’ Rahul said. ‘Learn from my experience.’
‘I have been married before,’ Mike grumbled. ‘And I was just as much of a pillock then. If your mother taught me anything, it was how to make amends after things had gone pear-shaped.’
Noah made a sympathetic face. ‘You might have to get creative.’
Mike sighed and finished his coffee.