Chapter 22
Chapter Twenty-Two
ELLIE
Well, this is different. The buzz of excitement I was never expecting. It warms my skin. It warms my heart. It … it’s happening.
Was it the sex I didn’t realise I needed? Sex with Mike, I didn’t realise I needed. Or was it the freedom to choose my own path? Making it my decision to go along with Mike’s narrative.
Whatever it is, it feels oddly satisfying. Like this is the way I was heading all along and, for some reason, fate forced me to take the scenic route, just to make sure I’d appreciate the destination.
And as I sit on the sofa with Mike—the same sofa we had sex on, an hour ago—I realise my life will never be the same.
And I’m okay with that, because Mike is here and there’s no pressure.
No expectation of anything now. We’re simply two people who have an unwavering connection that has somehow pulled us back together after years apart, watching an old episode of a TV game show like we’ve been doing it for years.
Though I’m convinced he’s seen this one before because he answers every single question in fluid certainty, and he’s only been wrong once. Once.
“How many times have you seen this episode?” I ask.
“I haven’t,” he says, his eyes flicking towards me for a second before he looks back at the screen.
“Really?”
“Damselfly,” he says, answering the next question before the multiple-choice answers pop up.
“Huh,” I say. “How did you know that?”
“Damselflies have more flexible wings than dragonflies,” he says, matter-of-fact. “That’s why they fold them in when they land.” He points at the screen, considering the other options. “And it’s definitely not a horsefly or a mayfly—unless either of those suddenly learned grace.”
I stare at him. Blinking several times before asking, “and how did you know that?”
“Saw it on a documentary,” he shrugs.
I reach for my phone and tap ‘damselfly’ into the search engine, looking through the image results.
“I can’t say I’ve ever seen a damselfly before.”
“Well, they’re abundant near freshwater so maybe we need to go damsel-watching.” He grins at me, a smile that sends a wave of flutters to my stomach.
“I—that’s interesting.”
“I know a lot of crap,” he says. “Did you know before they mate, males use their secondary genitalia to sort of scoop out the semen of a rival male from the female to give their sperm the best chance? Wild, right?”
I let my jaw drop open before I snap it shut, raising my eyebrows. “Really?”
He chuckles. “Yeah.”
“What other crazy facts do you know?” I ask.
“Oh, sweetheart … you don’t want to ask me that.”
“Why not?” I scoot closer to jab him playfully in the ribs .
“I can talk crap all day, honestly. I don’t think anyone really listens to me anymore.”
“I do,” I say. “I enjoy listening to you. It’s a damn sight more interesting than where you’re going on holiday this year, which is all the conversation I usually get.”
He tears his eyes away from the TV, peering at me with an expression I can’t place. And because I’m beyond curious, I try to coax it out of him.
“What?” I ask.
He stills. Not letting his attention wane from mine as he shakes his head, his lips twitching with the unmistakable sign of a half-smile.
“Nothing. Nothing at all.”
“No, go on. I want to know,” I say.
He sighs, letting his head rest on the back of the sofa for a moment before running his hands over his face.
“It just blows my mind that you’re interested, that’s all.”
“In damselflies?”
“Nah, well, yeah, but me, I guess. Hutch is right. You’re a fucking ten and I’m?—”
I whack him across the arm.
“Stop it,” I say. “I’m not listening to it. Every time you try to put yourself down, I’ll be disciplining you.”
“Don’t threaten me with a good time,” he says.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I say, creasing my brow.
He has that look again. The half-laugh and cheeky expression as he shakes his head. “Forget it.”
“Stop doing that, too,” I say. “If we’re going to be married and acting like it in front of people, you can’t shut me out and leave me guessing. We’re supposed to be getting to know each other, like more than just the basic stuff of?—”
He kisses me then. Pulling me towards him in a fluid motion that makes it hot and all-consuming.
My brain turns to cotton wool again .
“It’s my dirty mind,” he says, breaking away. “If you really want to know.”
“Oh? Was the sex not enough?”
He chuckles in that deep rumble that vibrates through me.
“It was more than enough. It was better than I imagined.”
“Y-you were imagining it?” My voice comes out in a whisper, the reminder of my dreams, popping into my head.
“Damn right I have. And I know there’s no way you’ve not imagined the same. I mean…”
“You’re such a dick,” I say, trying to hide the smile cemented on my face.
But I can’t. I feel my face growing hot, so I scramble to change the conversation, saying the first thing I can think of.
“So, how do you think the guys will take the news?”
Mike pauses for a moment and I give him time to think, opting to stroke his forearm with my index finger while I wait.
He clears his throat before he speaks.
“I guess I’m nervous, to be honest. The judgement.
The speculation, maybe. I know the guys are decent but…
” he sighs. “I don’t know. I think I want to talk to Johnny first. He’s the one I trust the most and if I can get him on my side, then the rest of the team will be fine.
” He reaches for my hand and laces his fingers with mine.
“You are sure, right? I mean, it’s not too late to back out.
I can square it with Hutch. He’ll understand. ”
“I’m not backing out,” I say. “Besides, this is for my benefit as much as yours. Considering my sister knows now. Imagine her revelling in the fact that my marriage has failed … well, if you know what I mean.”
“How much does she know?” he asks.
“Apparently, she read the emails Greg sent to a friend working in family law. So, she probably knows there’s paperwork I don’t have.”
“I’ll make an effort this week,” he says. “To look for it, I mean. Because regardless of how things go with us, we need to know, right? ”
I nod. He’s right. Of course he is.
But his words settle on me. His choice of words.
Us. Are we an ‘us’? I don’t know. In fact, I don’t even know what it’s like to be ‘us’ with anyone.
All I’ve had is micro-relationships. The ones where you text for weeks before having a first date.
Then a second date. Then a third. Then the sex starts and the texting fizzles out and before you know it, you’re being ghosted.
“Hey, Kitch,” he says, after a moment of silence. “Do you mind if I drop in on Johnny? I think he’ll still be awake. He always struggles to sleep after a big loss. It’ll make things easier in the morning.”
And there it is. That sickness I felt earlier when I got to the rink to find I was too late. To find I’d missed his game.
He was downplaying it. And my problems preoccupied me too much to notice.