Chapter Twenty-Two
Sophie was starting to understand why Drag Queen Bingo was such a draw. Dazzle Camouflage could work the room, keeping up an engaging patter between the numbers. Manny the Man-tamer, as he was being called, handled the bingo programme on the laptop, the projector that showed the number on the screen, and the sound. Everyone was in high spirits as they competed to win donated prize packages and cash pots. There was a wide range of people there, their only common denominator seeming to be people who liked having a good time.
After two games, Dazzle sang ‘Luck Be a Lady’ while Sophie and Mike sold the special game sheets. Sophie had a pocket apron around her waist full of cash, which she took back to the person handling the money as soon as the song was over. Mike met her back there to do the same thing, handing her a small plastic container when he was finished. The jelly inside was a vibrant, unnatural blue colour.
‘Nothing good has ever come from jelly shots,’ Sophie said, having to raise her voice and lean close to him to be heard. This close, she could smell his skin, which smelled as good as always.
‘Good and fun aren’t always the same thing,’ Mike said. ‘Besides, I bought them from Manny’s grandmother, who’s also selling fudge. It’s going to a good cause.’ His mouth was so close, she could feel his breath. ‘Are you going to let the seniors down, Sophie?’
‘Well,’ she said, ‘when you put it that way . . .’ She popped the lid, squeezing the sides until she could get the jelly into her mouth. She shuddered. ‘It tastes like blue and vodka.’
He laughed. ‘I’m told it’s easier if you use your finger to loosen the sides first.’
‘I’ve been handling money. No thank you.’
He was still grinning when he downed his, which was green. ‘Mmm, chemical lime and cheap vodka.’ He threw away the container. ‘I’m going to go get us another round.’ He strode back to the tray of shots, falling quickly into discussion with Manny’s grandmother. She couldn’t hear him, but Mike was gesturing to the different colours and she was responding, her hands flitting all over the place.
Sophie tried to picture this same scene when she’d been married and couldn’t imagine it. Despite all his bluster about being a pillar of the community and all of that, there was no way Andrew would have come to something like this. He’d talked a lot about the importance of being there for your neighbour, but that rhetoric had all seemed to circle back to supporting local small businesses, mostly his.
Though a little overwhelmed at first, Mike had thrown himself in, which couldn’t have been easy. She knew full well how little sleep he’d managed. She’d taken a nap earlier, but he’d worked all day. You wouldn’t know it from watching him. All she’d had to do was tell him that someone needed help, and here he was. Not complaining. Not grudging. But like there was nowhere else he’d rather be. He never made anyone feel like they were a burden. Even sleep-deprived and changing her sheets, he’d acted this way.
And this, she thought, was what was so dangerous about Michael Tremblay. Not that he was a stunner, not that he was good in bed, though she liked both of those things, but his kindness and decency. His sense of humour about life.
Because it was those things that would make it very easy for Sophie to fall in love with him, and that was the last thing either of them wanted.
As if feeling her attention on him, Mike looked up at her and winked. Even that was somehow sexy, though she usually thought men winking at her was creepy. She gave him a little wave and a smile, then turned her attention back to the players and put everything else out of her mind.
Five hours later found her and Mike half naked on her couch. The remnants of their dinner was still on the table, curries they’d grabbed from a takeaway place. Mike was rubbing her feet, pausing occasionally to guzzle some water while mumbling about ‘smooth-talking seniors and their tricky jelly shot ways’. She was enjoying the foot-rub – there had been a lot of running around during bingo – and was attempting to rub one of his feet while also looking at the photos and short videos on her phone.
Mike groaned.
‘You okay over there?’
‘A little drunk,’ Mike admitted. ‘I wasn’t expecting to get any drunk. Manny’s abuela is not to be trusted.’
‘I did tell you that Manny said she was ruthless. There you were, an innocent with cash in your hand. Her job was to part you from it, and she was very good at it.’
Mike closed one eye and squinted at her. ‘How come you’re fine?’
‘I gave mine away after the second one,’ she admitted.
Mike’s eyes widened as he gasped, pausing the foot-rub to point at her. ‘Foul betrayer.’
‘I told you I didn’t want any more,’ she said, flipping to a new image on her phone. This one was of Mike holding up a winner’s hand in victory. From the way they were both carrying on, you would have thought he’d won the serving tray set. ‘Not my fault if you didn’t listen.’
Mike sighed. ‘It was too loud in there. I didn’t hear you properly. I thought you’d asked for more.’ He slumped back against the couch. ‘I wouldn’t have bought you more if I’d heard you say no.’
‘Keep drinking water. That will help.’
He dutifully finished off the glass and set it on the table before returning to her feet. ‘Did you get any good ones for your blog?’
‘Ooooh, yes,’ she said. ‘Including the one where you were dancing with Dazzle Camouflage.’
Mike let his eyes drift closed, though he was still using his thumbs to dig into the arch of her foot. ‘For someone so tall, she was very light on her feet.’
‘Dazzle gave me permission to post the video on the blog as long as I link to her website and the senior centre. I’d like to see if we can raise some extra funds for them. They do so many classes and community gatherings – it’s a wonderful resource.’
Mike hummed a response, though he was no longer rubbing so much as petting her ankle.
She smiled at him. He seemed so content where he was, the corners of his mouth curling up even now when he was half asleep. She raised her phone and took a picture. Not for her blog, but just for her – something to remind her of a night that was pretty much perfect.
Mike gave a sleepy chuckle.
‘What is it?’ she asked, setting down her phone.
‘Tom dropping that container of salsa.’ He cracked his eyes open. ‘He’d been so smug in his kitchen refuge, hiding from Dolores. No one was pinching his bum but his fiancée. Then – crash .’
It had been a large container, too. Tom had still been mopping when they’d left.
‘Did Dolores pinch your bum?’
‘Once,’ he murmured sleepily, his eyes drifting shut again.
‘Why didn’t you say anything?’
‘Her friend made her apologize and asked me not to tell – she’s on her third strike and they were afraid she’d be banned again.’
Sophie frowned. ‘If her behaviour is problematic, someone needs to address it.’
‘I talked to her,’ Mike said, patting Sophie’s ankle, his eyes still shut. ‘She misses her husband. Married twenty years. Told her I knew what that was like. We bonded.’ His words were tapering off now. She’d need to move him to the bed before he passed out, otherwise he’d have to spend an unpleasant night bunched up on the sofa. ‘Called me her ride or die. You can’t throw out your ride or die, even if she does pinch your bum.’
Sophie covered her mouth to stifle her laugh. ‘Oooh, she got you good. Wrapped you right around her little finger, didn’t she?’
Mike didn’t answer. Sophie sighed and nudged his legs off the couch. ‘Okay, let’s go. Bedtime for you.’
He muttered something and buried his head deeper into the couch.
‘And we’d better give you something for that headache that will probably be coming along really soon.’ It took a little effort, but she finally got him up and to the bedroom, tucking him under the covers. He was snoring softly a few seconds later.
Ridiculous man.
But she was happy that he was her ridiculous man, at least for now. Only for now. Her stomach sank, and as she watched him, Sophie thought she might be a little too late. She was more than half in love with him already, and she was going to have to work very hard to not fall the rest of the way.
Thursday evening, which was four days after bingo, Sophie was on the couch with Marisa as Tom made them both dinner. It was a celebration of sorts. Sophie’s last post, which had featured the senior centre’s bingo night, a few short videos of Dazzle Camouflage being amazing, and a few pictures of Mike charming the players, had garnered three times the usual traffic. The fundraising meter for the centre kept going up, too, with every repost of the article.
‘How much is it at now?’ Marisa asked.
Sophie handed her the phone.
Marisa whistled. ‘That’s great. I think that video of Mike and Dazzle waltzing was the clincher. She looked amazing and your boyfriend’s pretty handsome. Hate to say it, but sex really does sell.’
‘He’s not my boyfriend,’ Sophie said.
‘Sure he’s not.’ Marisa handed back her phone. ‘You just talk constantly, sleep at each other’s apartments, and . . .’ She stretched to see if Tom was listening from the kitchen, but he seemed to be scowling at the recipe he’d pulled up on his iPad. ‘You’ve been humping like rabbits with twenty-four hours to live and nothing to eat but aphrodisiacs.’
Sophie’s brows went up. ‘That’s . . . graphic.’
Marisa waved it away. ‘I’m just saying, you two might not be labelling it, but I am. Friends with benefits don’t go on dates. They don’t hold hands.’ She pointed at Sophie’s phone. ‘And they don’t send you cute morning coffee selfies every day just because.’
‘I’m not ready to call it anything else. Maybe when we’re both back in England . . .’ She let the thought trail off. She’d been trying not to think about that too much. She missed her home, but she loved being close to Tom and Marisa, and she was afraid to bring up the idea of trying to maintain the relationship once they got back to London. Mike seemed okay right now, but she was concerned that pushing him too hard too quickly would make him panic and shut down.
Marisa sent her a commiserating look. ‘How much longer is he here again?’
‘Two weeks, I think. He said it depended on the job.’
‘And we’ve got you a little over a month,’ Marisa said. ‘That’s not a big gap of time. Just enough for him to miss you.’
‘Maybe.’ What they had right now was wonderful, but it also felt new and fragile. The last thing she wanted to do was shatter it with too many questions.
‘Twenty more minutes,’ Tom said from the kitchen. ‘Is Mike going to make it?’
‘I’ll see.’ Sophie checked her phone and saw she’d just missed a message from him. ‘He’ll be here shortly.’ Out of habit, she opened up her email app, wanting to see if there was anything dire she needed to handle.
She had two unexpected emails, both of which had subject lines that made her heart rate pick up, though for very different reasons. One was from Andrew. She didn’t want to read it, so she forwarded it to Edie as per an agreement they’d made months earlier. If there was anything actually important in it, Edie would let her know. Otherwise, she could delete it.
The other, however, was from someone she didn’t know.
Subject: Swanning About Blog
As Sophie skimmed, her heart rate sped up. She reached over without thinking and took one of Marisa’s hands.
‘What?’ Marisa asked. ‘What is it? If it’s the Wicker Man, delete that trash.’
‘It’s not the Wicker Man,’ Sophie said absently as she reread the email, convinced she’d read it incorrectly before. ‘It’s from an editor. She’d like to meet about my blog. I think . . . I think she wants to see if I’d want to write a book.’
Marisa froze, her mouth open in surprise.
Tom flew out of the kitchen, wooden spoon in hand. ‘What was that? What did you say?’
Sophie blinked at them both. ‘It’s from an editor. She knows I’m in New York and she wants to talk to me about the possibility of making a book for Swanning About .’
Tom blinked, stunned.
Marisa threw up her arms and screamed. ‘Victory!’ She started punching the air over her head, each punch punctuating a new ‘victory’. She threw her arms around Sophie. ‘I’m so excited for you!’
Tom came over and joined the hug, being careful to keep the spoon from hitting them. ‘That’s amazing, Mum.’
‘Nothing may come of it, you know,’ Sophie said. ‘It’s only a preliminary meeting.’
‘It doesn’t matter,’ Tom said. ‘You never thought it would even get this far. Either way, you’ve done something you should be proud of.’
‘Take the win,’ Marisa said. ‘Life doesn’t give us a lot of them.’
‘You’re right,’ Sophie said, hugging them both, and feeling like she was quite possibly the luckiest person alive in that moment. ‘I’m taking the win.’
Marisa gave one more small punch, her voice quiet this time. ‘ Victory .’