13. Michael
Did she just—?
My arm bands around her waist as I groan and squeeze my eyes shut. I’ve wanted her for weeks—I can admit it to myself now after being in denial for so long—but now isn’t the time and it isn’t the place. So while I am on cloud fucking nine, I know I have to force myself to come off it.
I gather the strength of a million Greek gods and begin to loosen my hold on her, part my lips to say something that will stop this before it starts, to say something that will make it clear that while I do want to keep going, we can’t have it now.
But then she looks over her shoulder, stares up at me through thick lashes with those beautiful, dark eyes of hers, and I can’t help it.
I lose any hope of self control. Heart beating against my ribs, I lean in, half an inch away from kissing the most gorgeous lips I have ever—
A phone rings in the background. It’s fuzzy in my head, but I can hear it, and it brings us both to a stop.
We freeze as we gaze at each other, waiting for something or someone to tell us what to do next. Is it right, kissing her now, like this? I don’t think so. But do I want it? Fuck, yes. It feels like I haven’t wanted anything as much as I want this in my entire existence.
“That’s my phone,” she whispers after a few seconds, her sweet breath on my lips almost making me forget every logical thought in my brain.
“You—you should probably get that, then. Before the person hangs up. Might be important.” I loosen my hold on her, and she clears her throat. When she slips out of my arms, I’m left with the most hollow feeling in the world. The loss, though short, is almost seismic.
“It’s my boss; I have to take this. I’m sorry,” she says, looking genuinely apologetic.
“It’s alright. I’ll just…” I’ll just what exactly? Go die of embarrassment, maybe?
I exhale deeply and step outside into the pool area to take a breather on one of the lounge chairs. And to wait til my dick calms down, because, yeah, that was one of the hottest moments of my life, and there wasn’t even kissing. Just feeling her like that…
I shut my eyes and lie back, listening to the crickets chirp as the sun goes down, Diana’s voice faint and muffled in the background, while I try not to think about all the ways in which I would’ve liked that moment to have progressed.
It’s a while before I hear the sliding glass door of the pool house open, but when I do, I sit up in a panic, not knowing what to expect. I never intended for this to happen, and definitely not like that.
“Hey,” she says, walking up to me with a wry smile.
The sun is a kaleidoscope of oranges, yellows, pinks, and purples—breathtaking in its own way—but it’s nothing in comparison to the way she looks tonight.
It’s a few seconds before I can breathe again.
“Hey.”
She takes a seat in the lounge chair beside mine and faces toward me, so I sit up and face her.
“Sorry about that. Colorado is two hours behind, so I’m technically still on call for work, you know? Usually, I’m not done until maybe eight or nine P.M.”
“Oh. That sucks. I’m sorry.” And I am. Anyone who’s met Diana for even a second will know that she is not one to shirk work responsibilities or give anything less than one hundred percent of herself in anything she does.
I’d bet my entire professional chef knives collection that she’s been running herself ragged—and still thinking she isn’t doing enough.
“It’s okay; I don’t mind,” she says with a shrug. “It’s for that in-person meeting in the city I told you about. The one for a big new case we’ve been working on, and I can’t go. That’s what the call was about.” Diana stares off into the sunset, chewing the inside of her cheek.
“Yeah, I remember you telling me about the meeting.” I remember every single thing you’ve ever told me. “I also remember telling you that I would help you watch your girls while you were away, if you needed it.”
“I…”
“This sounds like a big deal. Let me help you. I know you said you didn’t know me that well, and I get that. But I’ve got references—you can call Barbara again. And I think we’ve gotten to know each other better since the barbecue. At least a little.”
I mean, my hard cock was literally against your back just now.
And, had we not been interrupted, and you had let me, I swear I would’ve thrown you on top of your kitchen island and eaten you out just how I’ve imagined it a thousand times since the Fourth of July.
Maybe even before then, if I’m being honest with myself.
Diana sits up, back ramrod straight, brows scrunched in that cute way she always does.
“Are… are you serious?” she asks after a heavy moment of silence passes between us. “You’d take them for the day?”
I clear my throat. “Yeah. Yes.”
Let me help you. Let me give you the support you deserve but have clearly never received.
“I can’t ask you to do that,” she whispers.
I huff, frustrated. “You’re not asking—I’m offering. It sounds like you need help, and I’d be happy to do it.”
“But... you’re doing that now. Helping me, I mean.” She points over her shoulder toward the pool house. “You showed up and are cooking us dinner. Teaching me a couple of good recipes and whatever.”
“I mean, sure. But I could also help with the girls if I can. It’s not a big deal.
It’s not like they’re moving in or anything.
It would just be like a playdate or something.
Are they too old to call it a playdate?” She smiles and I’m not sure whether I like what it does to me.
“When is your meeting supposed to be, anyway?”
“Um, day after tomorrow.”
“Let me check my schedule.” With her gaze on me, I pull my phone out of my back pocket and check my calendar, knowing deep down that I would reschedule anything to help her out.
She often gives all of herself to others, and rarely takes anything.
She deserves someone to do the same for her once in a while.
And if I can do that even once… Well, at least I know I will have made her load a bit lighter.
“So would you need me to pick them up from camp, too?”
“Yes?” I can hear the hesitation in her voice. Can hear how tempted she sounds, how much she wants to accept help but isn't used to doing so.
“My day doesn’t look too busy. I have a couple of test kitchen hours scheduled with Lexi, but I could probably move that to earlier in the day when the girls are at camp. And then, once I pick them up, I can take them to the aquarium or something.”
“The aquarium?”
“The Long Island Aquarium in Riverhead? I used to go when I was a kid, and I’ve been meaning to take Rachel.” I shrug. “This could just be the perfect opportunity to do it.”
“Um… I don’t know.” She shakes her head, biting her lower lip. “Emi… I’ve never left her alone with anyone before. Not since her diagnosis. And though we’re not exactly strangers anymore—” she clears her throat once—“we’ve sort of only just met.”
That stings because, even though it’s true, it doesn’t feel that way with her most of the time. Not anymore, at least.
I nod. “I understand you’re nervous. But just know that if you reconsider, I am down to help. I might not have firsthand experience with type 1 diabetes, but I can follow instructions better than anyone.”
She chuckles, relaxing a bit, causing relief to wash over me. “Thank you. I really appreciate that. More than you know.”
Another one of our silences passes between us. “Are you—” She stops herself mid-sentence and shakes her head.
“What?”
“Nothing. It’s fine.”
“Tell me. What were you going to say?”
A sigh. “Are you just offering to help because of what happened back there? Which I guess we’re both avoiding talking about but should probably address sooner rather than later?”
I look over my shoulder at the pool house, and then back at her.
“I offered to help, remember? I want to help you because I like you, yes. But also, because I feel like you go the extra mile for everyone all the time, and you deserve someone to come through for you once in your fucking life. And... I want to give you that. I want to be the one who comes through for you.”
Diana’s eyes glisten, her brows scrunching together again. “I… don’t know what to say. To any of it.”
“Say you’ll let me be there for you—at least this one time—so you can get exactly what you deserve for once.”
I notice she doesn’t address that I’ve all but confessed how much I like her, but none of that matters when she breathes, “Okay. Thank you,” and gives me the most beautiful smile I’ve ever seen.
If you’d have asked me five years ago where I’d be today, I would not have answered The Long Island Aquarium.
In fact, five years ago, in an interview for the Times, I was asked where I’d be today, and my answer was far from what my reality is now.
Back then, I believed I’d be head chef and owner of my own restaurant in a city like New York or London or Paris.
But here I am, herding three children—Rachel and Diana’s two girls—through a packed aquarium while a mountain of work piles up for the farm-to-table I’m trying to open, and there’s not a single thing I would change about it.
I’m more than happy to help babysit Cami and Emi while Diana is in Manhattan.
The fact that her boss flew in all the way from Colorado for this meeting signified that it was a big deal, which in turn meant that her being invited was even bigger.
And I want Diana to be happy—for so many reasons.
The first being that she’s always there for her daughters, sacrificing her happiness for their own.
But it’s not just for them that she goes the extra mile.
I think back to the Fourth of July barbecue, the way she helped me and Rachel achieve this very pivotal breaking point in our relationship.
Without her help, without her influence, there’s a chance Rachel would’ve never opened up to me fully.
There’s a chance we would’ve had a relationship limited in communication, both of us starved for it for the rest of our lives.
But Diana knew better, and she helped my daughter and I talk.
She made us listen to each other and express how we felt.
I know that sounds extremely simple in theory, but understanding what you’re feeling and subsequently expressing those feelings is not always a simple task.
Rachel called me “Dad.”
I smile down at my daughter, gazing at her as she watches the stingrays in the open, shallow pool right by the aquarium entrance. Gasping, her eyes shine with excitement.
“Guys! Look!” She squeals, jumping up and down as she gets Cami and Emi’s attention. “You can pet the stingrays!”
The other two girls gasp as well and immediately make a run for the “petting area.” I run behind them because that can’t be right, can it?
“You can pet stingrays?” I ask, looking around at the other children sitting on the edge of the pool, some of them, indeed, letting their little hands run over the backs of swimming stingrays.
My first thought is how awful it must be for the animals to have to endure humans all day every day.
But as I take a closer look, I see that most, if not all, stingrays seem to enjoy the attention, playing with the children, coming up and peeking out of the shallow water before going back in.
“Dad!” Rachel waves me over. “Come pet one! It’s so gross and slimy and cool!”
“Well, I would’ve never thought those first two words would go in the same sentence as ‘cool.’ Still, I’ll take your word for it, kid.”
I smile at the girls’ awestruck expressions, and think to myself Today is gonna be a good day.
It takes longer than expected to get three girls to abandon petting a slimy fish (are stingrays fish?), but I manage to pull them away from the shallow feeding pool to check out the rest of the aquarium.
Watching Rachel pay absolutely zero attention to me because she’s so busy having fun with her friends feels like one of the best things a person can experience.
Seeing your child happy and just being a fucking kid is an indescribable feeling.
My happiness is momentarily disrupted, however, by bitterness.
Because my parents apparently never gave a shit about me enough to make sure whether I was happy or well taken care of.
They never made me feel the type of joy or peace I see in Rachel’s eyes right now.
I was never anything more than a burden.
The resentment I feel toward my parents has increased steadily every day since Rachel has come into my life under this new dynamic.
I’ve grown more and more indifferent about the fact that no one has any idea where my parents are now—I don’t even know whether they’re together or not—but the anger I repressed as a young adult and in my early twenties has come back full force.
Despite the rage, I try to reframe the feeling into a positive one.
It’s something that will ensure I will, for the rest of my life, do everything in my power to make sure my child is happy and well.
It’s around snack time when we finally get tickets to see the seal show.
The girls convince me to sit in the first couple of rows, so we naturally get soaked during their hilarious show.
Normally, I feel weird about aquariums and zoos, but all the animals here seem to be happy with their new digs.
Before I know it, I’m laughing, lost in the moment, feeling something warm course through me as my daughter looks up at me and thanks me for bringing her and her friends here.
“Of course, bud. Plus, I’m on babysitting duty, too, remember?” I tell her.
“Yeah,” she whispers with a shrug. “But you could’ve just left us playing at the farm while you worked. Instead you decided to take us somewhere fun and spend time with me. And that’s kinda cool.”
Kinda cool? From a nine year-old? Even I know that’s high praise!
“Well… I just wanted you to have a good time. Plus, it’s a really pretty afternoon. Woulda been a shame to waste it on work.”
Would’ve been a shame to waste it on work?? Who am I?
“Still. Thank you.”
“You’re wel—”
“Michael?” Emi’s soft voice cuts me off. “I don’t feel so good.” I twist in my seat on the bleachers to get a better look at her and realize just how pale she looks.
My stomach drops as her phone beeps loudly in her bag. Her insulin levels. Check her insulin levels. Or is it her blood sugar? Fuck.
Moving as fast as I can, I reach her and unzip her backpack, rifling through it to get to her phone. Just like Diana taught me this morning, I open the app, and check Emi’s blood sugar and insulin levels.
Shit…