Katie
The days and weeks following my mom’s death haven’t been easy. Grief comes in waves and arrives when I least expect it. Some days I convince myself that I’m doing fine, only to see something that reminds me of her or hear a song she loved, and I completely fall apart.
Michael’s been wonderful through all of it.
I practically forced him to go back to work.
He wanted to be there while I moved all of my things out of the house, but he had taken enough time away.
Sarah helped me pack instead. We spent a week surrounded by half-filled boxes and plastic totes, packing up everything I owned.
Most nights, we drank too much and stayed awake talking about memories that followed me from childhood into the woman I’ve become.
Sarah and Luca have surprisingly moved just as quickly as Michael and I have.
Last week, she broke her apartment lease, packed up all of her things, and moved into his house.
They’ve even booked a trip to the Bahamas together in October.
When I asked her about it, she told me that love can’t wait, and that she was sorry for ever questioning me about Michael.
She said he’s a good man, and she’s glad I’ve found someone who takes care of me.
Michael told me I could bring anything I wanted from the house to the estate.
Most of it went into storage, but I did bring a few things.
I brought the picture I painted of Symi, Greece, into our bedroom.
It hangs beside one of the windows overlooking the grounds.
The other night, Michael found me sitting on the window seat, staring up at it.
He sat down beside me and said, “I’ll take you there one day.”
I threw my arms around his neck, and he pulled me into his lap. I kissed him until he finally laughed and told me dinner was getting cold and Beatrice was going to give him hell for it. I laughed against his lips and told him I guessed that was reason enough to finally eat.
Now, every time I look at that picture, I think about how one day I’ll get to see all the places my mom once saw.
“Doll?”
I look up to find Michael standing in the doorway of the conservatory where I’ve spent most of the afternoon painting a butterfly.
“Hi,” I say, smiling at him.
He smiles back and walks toward me. His white dress shirt is slightly wrinkled from the day, and his tie is already loosened around his neck. When he reaches me, he rests one hand against the back of my neck and leans down to kiss me where I’m sitting on the bench.
“You look beautiful.”
I laugh quietly. “You’re such a liar.”
I’m wearing an oversized shirt covered in paint stains and black leggings. My curls are piled into some strange mix between a bun and a ponytail, and there isn’t a trace of makeup on my face.
“That’s one thing I’d never lie about,” he says.
“Whatever.” I stand and start cleaning up my brushes. “Sarah and Luca will be here at seven.”
He drags a hand down his face with a groan.
“Don’t act surprised. You’ve known all week.”
“Yeah, and I’ve hated it all week.”
“You’re so fucking dramatic.”
“No,” he says, moving in behind me until I can feel his chest against my back.
“Michael…”
“I was gonna take you upstairs, bend you over the edge of our bed, and keep you there all night.”
I swallow hard and grip my paintbrushes because one look at him and every plan for tonight will disappear. His arm circles my waist, and his hand disappears beneath my shirt. The second he realizes I’m braless, he lets out a low sound against my neck.
“Katie,” he says warningly, squeezing my breast in his palm. “You can’t walk around this house like this.”
I melt back against him for a second as he kneads it. His mouth brushes my ear.
“Let me take you upstairs.”
He drags my hand down to the hard outline pressing against his pants.
“Michael.”
“Come on.”
I pull away before my self-control completely evaporates.
“Stop. We are going to dinner and then to the movies. You know how badly I want to see Chainsaw Prom Queen.”
“First of all,” he says dryly, “that is the dumbest movie title I’ve ever heard. Secondly…”
He gestures down at himself.
I shrug. “Sounds like a personal problem.”
“You created the problem.”
I stare at him. “I’m literally just existing.”
“Exactly,” he says. “That’s the issue.”
I laugh and shake my head. “I don’t suddenly forget how to function every time you walk into a room.”
He gives me a look. “Katie. Last week you walked into a wall because you were staring at me.”
“That happened one time.”
“You also put your phone in the refrigerator yesterday.”
I roll my eyes. “Irrelevant.”
He grins. “So we agree you want me just as bad.”
“Unfortunately for you,” I say, patting his chest. “Chainsaw Prom Queen comes first tonight.”
Then I walk toward the door while he groans behind me.
Michael drives tonight giving Luca a break. I sit in the passenger seat beside him. Sarah and Luca are in the back, currently yelling the lyrics to a song neither of them fully knows.
Michael’s hand rests heavily on my thigh while he drives, completely relaxed despite the chaos happening around him.
Every time I look back at Luca, he’s smiling at Sarah like she could do no wrong.
His face turns bright red whenever he laughs hard enough, which feels almost unbelievable considering how serious he usually is.
Usually, Luca is composed to the point of intimidation. He spends most of his time beside Michael handling schedules, security, driving, and whatever other mysterious business seems to follow Michael everywhere.
Most of the time, he feels older than twenty-seven. Sarah changes that. Around her, he turns playful and easygoing in a way I don’t think many people ever get to see.
Michael spends half the drive shaking his head at him. Every so often, Michael mutters something under his breath in Italian that makes Luca flip him off from the backseat.
I finally nudge Michael in the side. “Leave him alone.”
“I am leaving him alone,” he says, even though he absolutely is not.
“You act like this is embarrassing.”
“It is embarrassing for him.”
Luca groans from the backseat. “Can you stop talking about me like I’m not here?”
“No,” Michael and I say at the same time.
Sarah bursts into laughter beside him.
I grin and look back at Michael. “It wouldn’t kill you to let people see that you act like this too when no one else is around.”
Michael glances over at me briefly before looking back at the road.
“No, Doll,” he says calmly. “That’s for you and you alone.”
“Fucker,” I mutter.
He exhales and threads his fingers through mine. I consider snatching my hand away out of spite, but apparently I enjoy suffering, so I squeeze his hand instead. His grin appears immediately.
“You’re a jackass.”
“And yet,” he says smugly, lifting our joined hands to kiss my knuckles, “you’re obsessed with me.”
I ignore him.
“Oh, look. We’re here,” I say brightly.
He smiles as he turns into the parking lot.
I told him I didn’t want one of the absurdly expensive restaurants we normally end up at.
I wanted something normal. Michael shuts off the engine before climbing out.
A few seconds later, he opens my door and offers me his hand.
I take it because I know he’d give me shit if I didn’t.
Sarah and Luca are already waiting near the back of the SUV.
“I can’t believe you talked me into coming here,” Michael says with a groan.
Luca slaps a hand against his chest. “Come on, Mikey. Slumming it with the rest of us won’t kill you.”
Sarah shoves him. “Fuck you.”
She starts toward the entrance.
“I was joking!” Luca calls after her.
I glance up at Michael and catch him grinning.
“You are enjoying this way too much,” he says.
I fist my hand in the front of his t-shirt and tug him down enough to kiss him.
“You’re damn right I am.”
His hand slides around my waist. “You better be glad I love you.”
Laughing, I grab his hand and pull him toward the entrance. He reaches around me to hold the door open while Sarah and Luca stand off to the side waiting.
“It’s a thirty-minute wait,” Sarah says.
Michael looks horrified. “We have to wait?”
“Yes, babe,” I say sweetly. “It’ll be okay. I promise.”
The disgusted look on his face makes me laugh loudly. I shove him toward the bench near the wall.
“This is ridiculous,” he mutters as he sits down.
“No, you’re ridiculous. Thirty minutes is not a big deal.”
“Thirty minutes is not a big deal,” he repeats under his breath, mocking me.
Luca drops onto the bench beside him. “You know, most people do this every weekend.”
Michael stares at him. “Do I look normal?”
“Don’t be a douche,” Sarah says, smiling.
Michael leans back against the bench with a sigh. He reaches for my hand and tugs me closer until I’m standing between his knees.
“See?” I tell him. “You’re surviving.”
“Barely, Doll. Barely.”
Almost exactly thirty minutes later, “Sarah, party of four. Sarah, party of four,” crackles over the speaker.
We all stand and follow the host through the crowded restaurant. Michael keeps one hand at my lower back the entire way to the table. The host stops beside a table near the back. Michael pulls the chair out for me before taking his own seat beside me.
“Your server will be right with you,” the host says with a polite smile before disappearing back toward the front.
Across from us, Sarah and Luca are practically vibrating trying not to laugh. Michael, meanwhile, looks deeply uncomfortable. He adjusts his chair twice, smooths his napkin across his lap, and glances around the restaurant.
I reach over and rest my hand on his knee.
He looks at me. “What?”
“Thank you,” I say softly.
The tension in his face eases just a little. His hand comes up to my cheek, brushing one of my curls behind my ear.
“Anything for you, Doll.”
Right then, a waitress appears beside the table holding a stack of menus.
“Welcome to Olive Garden,” she says brightly.
Michael closes his eyes for a long moment while Luca completely loses his shit laughing beside him.