Chapter 20
“Don’t like, fire me”—Mia chuckles—“but I’m ready for winter break to be over.”
We’re sitting at the dining table, hot mugs of coffee warming our hands on this sub-zero day. The girls are in the living room, lost in their own world.
They’ve made an impressive fort by removing the cushions and pillows from the sectional, moving the coffee table, and draping blankets over the top.
I flipped up the front blanket half an hour ago and turned on a movie for them. A bowl of popcorn, juice boxes, and animation should keep them occupied for a while.
It’s not that they were being a bother, on the contrary. But I wanted to secure some quiet time to talk to Mia without child-interruptions.
“I’m never firing you, you’re stuck here forever,” I deadpan, her eyes glimmering back with mischief. “But I agree, winter break is fun for the first few days, but after Christmas, it feels like forever before they go back to school.”
I’m a working parent. I love my daughter unconditionally, but I need time at the hardware store to stay sane.
I don’t know how Mia was essentially a single stay-at-home parent for the last six years. She’s a saint as far as I’m concerned for taking Harper under her angel wings and treating her with the same care as she does her own daughter.
“Thank god, because I’ve been feeling like the worst mom on the planet for wanting to fast forward to next week when I can drop the girls off at school.”
How can this woman feel like she’s a bad mom when she treats Harper with as much love and tenderness as Everly? She never speaks of our kids as “my daughter” or “your daughter.” She treats our girls the same and it heals me in a way I didn’t know was broken.
I’m drawn to the way her pink lips caress the rim of the mug. A drop of coffee escapes down the ceramic, and she licks it up with her tongue. Why did I have to be born a man, and not that fucking mug?
I take a drink from my own coffee to prevent me from saying something stupid, because that’s what I am around her. Stupid.
“What’ll you do after you drop them off?”
“Good question.” She taps her chin with one delicate fingertip, looking up to the ceiling, weighing her options.
“I’ll for sure pull into a parking lot and sit in the blissful silence. No chatter, constant questions, complaints, or kid music assaulting my ears.”
I nod in solidarity, because I’d do the same thing. You don’t appreciate silence until you have a kid. There’s no silence. Ever.
“Then I’ll come home and sit in the silence on the couch. Maybe by lunchtime I’ll want to listen to an audiobook or some music. It’ll be glorious,” she says wistfully, and I can’t help the smile that tugs at the corners of my mouth.
Her comment spurs me to ask a question that’s been eating at me.
“Where do you go at lunchtime? You make me lunch every day, but you’re never here when I come home to eat.”
She stalls by taking several sips of coffee but can’t avoid answering indefinitely.
“If the weather’s nice, I go for a walk, people watch along Main Street or take a few laps around the park. If the weather’s crummy, I go to the library and use the computer or check out a new book or audiobook.” She shrugs.
“You don’t have to leave just because I’m coming home. I ain’t gonna bite.” The pulse point in her neck throbs, and I’m lying through my teeth.
I’d like to bite her there, on her earlobe, and at the juncture of her thighs.
“I know. But I figure it’s the one hour a day you get to yourself. I don’t want to intrude. I know what it feels like to never have ‘me time’ so, I leave to give you yours.”
As always, Mia proves herself to be too kind, too thoughtful, too good. A living, breathing embodiment of selflessness.
“I have quiet in the morning before everyone wakes up. I have quiet when the store’s dead. I have quiet after everyone goes to bed.” She fidgets, uncomfortable as I debunk her rationale, but that’s not my intention.
“Don’t get me wrong, a quiet lunchbreak at home is a great break in my day. But I don’t want you goin’ out of your way and putting yourself out.” Her forced smile is disconcerting.
“When do you eat lunch? The kitchen’s spotless when I come in, no dishes in the sink.”
“I don’t eat a real lunch most days. I munch on what the kids leave on their breakfast plates, or extras when I pack their lunchboxes. I eat snack with them after school. I don’t mind.”
This woman, my employee, hasn’t been taking a lunch break. It doesn’t sit right with me for more reasons than one.
“I can’t have you skipping lunch, Mia. And not because you’re technically on my payroll, but because you’re a human being. I need you to eat a real lunch.” My face’s natural state is a perma-scowl, but I’m trying to show my genuine concern.
“Please,” I implore.
“Okay,” she says quietly. “I can eat when I come back from my midday outing.”
“No.”
Her head shoots up, shocked by my clipped reply, so I soften my tone.
“Eat lunch with me.”
“Like, eat while you’re eating, in the same place you’re eating?”
Her question isn’t funny but has me chuckling.
“That’s how eating together works, yes.” Her cheeks flush. “We eat together most nights for dinner, what’s the difference?”
“We aren’t alone at dinnertime,” she says, chagrined.
She’s not wrong. Come to think of it, I don’t know that we’ve had much time alone together…ever. The girls are our priority, and when we’re not here, we’re at the ranch surrounded by people.
“Does being alone with me make you uncomfortable?” I fucking hope not because the desire to be alone with her grows by the day.
“No! Not at all.” She rushes out. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”
“So, if neither of us is uncomfortable, eat at lunchtime with me.”
“Okay,” she acquiesces with a sweet smile.
Giggles from the living room dance through the apartment as the movie plays and contentment settles over me.
Mia gets up and tops off our coffee. The temperature in the apartment is normal, but she likes to be cozy, always wrapped in a sweatshirt or blanket with a warm drink nearby. I haven’t raised the thermostat, ridiculously hoping she might come to me for body heat.
“When do you need to leave for the New Years Eve party?” she asks.
I’m way too old to be throwing ‘em back waiting for the ball to drop. But that isn’t why we celebrate anymore. Sam’s birthday was December thirty-first, and we’ve taken to gathering at The Flying Pig and honoring him with a drink or two while sharing our favorite memories.
It wasn’t that way for the first couple years. The first New Years Eve after he died was a black-out until you forget kind of night. I was planning on going tonight, but in this moment, what I want is a night alone with Mia.
“I think I want to stay in this year. Ain’t feeling the bar crowd today.” It’s half the truth.
“What about Sam’s birthday?” Of course she remembers, why am I surprised?
“I can send my love up to him any time, they’ll do enough damage without me.”
“You’re sure?”
“I am. I reminisced with the lot of ‘em when I popped over to the ranch early this morning. They know I’m an antisocial prick, they’ll understand if I stay home.” And they will. Guilt acidifies the coffee in my stomach, but a night alone with Mia is worth it.
“One of the streaming services has a midnight countdown special, so I was planning on watching that with the girls before their normal bedtime. It’s worked on Everly the last few years, no issue.” Her grimace is unwarranted.
“That’s fucking genius. Why didn’t I ever think of that? Harper wants to stay up but never can make it, so everyone ends up exhausted and bent out of shape.”
“Yea? You aren’t upset about lying to Harper to have a quiet night?” She winces.
“Not at all. If I won’t be in the way, can I crash your quiet night?” The pounding of my heart must be audible. I feel like I’m asking a girl out for the first time.
When she doesn’t answer, the coffee threatens to make a reappearance.
She rinses her mug and puts it in the dishwasher. On her way past me to the living room fort, she grazes my shoulder for the briefest second.
“It’s a date.”
“How long do you think I can get away with the early countdown for Harper?”
“I hate to break it to you, but maybe one more year.”
I throw my hands in the air feigning exasperation. Her laughter hits me like a drug.
“If we were on our own, I’d have another four to five years of success with Everly. But if we’re still here when Harper figures it out…you know Everly won’t fall for it.”
If they’re still here? Why wouldn’t they still be here? I’ll still need a nanny. The arrangement seems to be working for Mia. Hopefully the ex will be long gone by then. The thought of her leaving is unfathomable. I won’t allow it.
“You can stay here forever as far as I’m concerned. Harper adores you, the girls get along great, you’ve made this place a home, Mia. You’ve taken so much weight off my shoulders I didn’t know I was carrying.”
My honesty stuns us both. Two damaged people peering behind the curtain of what a healthy relationship might look like if we took the chance.
We’ve got nearly four hours until midnight and I have no idea if she intends on staying up to ring in the new year or hit the hay early.
“What do you do out here in the evening?”
I’ve been dying to know, but since she’s moved in, after I get Harper down, I’ve hidden in my room like a little boy instead of taking advantage of my own fucking living room.
“Oh, you know, I put something on the TV to melt my brain for an hour or two and then I turn in for the night.”
The TV echoes down the hall some nights and I’ve been curious what shows she likes.
“Yea? What do you watch?” I ask, not wanting our casual conversation to die so soon.
Those round apple cheeks blush and her smile is brittle. “It’s nothing you’d like.”
“Try me.” I crack open my beer and kick my feet up on the coffee table.
Instead of telling me, she turns the TV on to a streaming service I didn’t know we had. It must be her account, and I’m proud as hell she’s comfortable enough here to put down even the tiniest root.