Alyssa started slamming through my cupboards, “Please tell me in all the buying sprees you went on, you bought shot glasses.”
“I didn’t,” I admitted.
“Whatevs,” she mumbled, pulled down some juice glasses and started pouring.
“So, apparently, there’s a decision to be made.”
This was surprisingly a prompt from Josie.
I looked to her. “It’s a long story, but we’ll just say, things with Mickey and me have been rocky.”
She nodded.
“We’ll get to the long story later. Decision now,” Alyssa demanded, scooting glasses across the counter to us. “Have you made one?”
I took my glass and stared at it.
Then I lifted it and shot it.
I let the chill glide through me and looked to my friends.
“I’m terrified, and I’m terrified because I think I’m pretty much half in love with him already, so if I didn’t at least take a chance, I’d never forgive myself,” I announced.
“Right on!” Alyssa screeched to the ceiling then immediately did her shot.
Josie’s eyes twinkled again as she lifted her glass and sipped.
When she was done, she said quietly, “He’s a very good man.”
I licked my lips and pressed them together.
“The best,” Alyssa concurred.
I started rolling my lips.
“If things work, I believe he’ll make you very happy, Amelia,” Josie added.
I stopped rolling my lips and clenched my teeth.
“You’re scared,” Alyssa noted.
I looked to her. “Like I said, terrified.”
“No,” she replied gently. “Scared of it working.”
“I—”
“And then collapsing,” she finished.
I swallowed and nodded.
She poured more vodka in our glasses then lifted hers.
I took that cue and lifted mine.
Josie did the same.
“There is nothing guaranteed in life. But the only leaps really worth taking are leaps of faith on love. So look where you leap, beautiful, and happy landing,” Alyssa toasted.
I smiled and raised my glass a smidge. They did too.
Then we all shot them back (even Josie).
Alyssa crashed hers to the bar and demanded loudly, “Now! The long story!”
I slid onto a stool and, on command, shared a long, hopeful story with my new friends.
* * * * *
I sat in my nightie on my bed, knees to my chest, one arm around my calves, phone in my other hand.
It was late. I was tipsy. Josie and Alyssa were gone.
And I thought it was time to call Mickey.
My mother would disagree since it was well past nine. In fact it was well past eleven.
But if I were him, I wouldn’t want to have to go to sleep not knowing.
Maybe he didn’t care that much.
But it seemed he did.
So he should know.
I activated my phone and slid my thumb over the screen. When I found his contact, I hit go.
I put the phone to my ear.
It rang once and then I got sweet and low, “Hey, Amy.”
“Hey,” I replied.
“Your posse hit the road?” he asked.
“Were your ears burning?” I asked back.
“Can take it,” he muttered.
I drew in breath.
“Mickey,” I called.
“I’m here,” he replied.
“I like you,” I whispered.
“Fuck.” It sounded pained.
“Mickey?” I called again, more urgently.
“Here, Amy, and I’m glad, baby, ’cause I hope you get I like you too.”
“So maybe we should go to dinner?” I suggested.
There was no pain in his voice but a smile when he replied, “Yeah, maybe we should.”
“Okay,” I said quietly.
“Okay,” he returned. “You goin’ to bed?”
“I’m in bed.”
There was a pause before he said, “Let you go then, Amy.”
“Okay, Mickey.”
“Later, babe.”
Something about this ending wasn’t right. It was abrupt, not soft and sweet and gentle like it had started.
I felt funny about it but I replied, “Later.”
He hung up.
I took the phone from my ear and stared at it.
God, I hoped he wasn’t one of those thrill of the chase men who caught their prey and lost interest in it.
But I couldn’t jump to conclusions. He had kids. They were still with him. School didn’t start until next week so they could still be up and something could have happened to take Mickey’s attention.
I put my phone to my nightstand, got under the covers, turned out the light and pulled the covers up to my shoulder, snuggling in.
I was wide awake.
And I was thinking I’d agreed to have dinner with Mickey but then he’d ended the call before we’d even made plans.
“Oh God,” I breathed.
My doorbell rang.
My head shot off the pillow as a shiver stole over my skin.
The doorbell rang again.
My hand threw back the covers as my feet threw themselves over the side of the bed.
I hit the floor and started running. Running in my little navy satin nightie with its plum lace (an Alyssa choice, no skank, all class, very sexy) right to the front door.
The motion sensor light was activated.
Mickey was shadowed through the glass.
I unlocked it, threw it open and looked up just in time to find myself in the strong arms of Mickey Donovan, his mouth on mine, and he was kissing me.
I let him, pressed close to his heat, held on tight and kissed him back.
We made out, wet and sweet and hard and wild, on my landing in the open front door and we did it for a really long time.
I loved every fucking second.
Arm tight around the small of my back, me up on tiptoes, Mickey mostly supporting my weight, his other hand in my hair, my arms wound around his shoulders, Mickey ended it.
Slowly, my lips bruised and tingling—lots of things tingling—my eyes drifted open.
“Lobster Market tomorrow night at seven?” he asked, his voice thick, his eyes through the shadows I could actually feel were heated.
I felt a giggle of pure joy bubble inside of me, forced it down to a smile and breathed, “Works for me.”
“No kids,” he said. “Just you and me.”
I nodded, holding on just as he kept holding me. “Just you and me.”
He dipped so close that his nose brushed mine. “You made the right choice, Amy.”
Current evidence was strongly suggesting I did.
“Not certain there was another choice, Mickey,” I admitted and he grinned.