Not giving up, Mick said, “You can,” but I brushed it off.
“Honestly, I feel lucky to do what I do. I have a good relationship with my editor, I’ve carved out this little niche for myself, and I have time for Priss. Priscilla. She’s twelve, and obviously is the reason I don’t want to upset my home.”
Somewhat ironic words considering I was sitting across from Mick, a situation that had considerable potential to upset my home.
“It’s only lunch,” he said, seemingly reading my mind.
I nodded. “I know, and I appreciate your . . .” I searched my scattered brain for the right word. Interest? No. Flattery? No again. “Concern.”
“I told you my story. You can share more when you want, but until then, let’s enjoy each other’s company. Now, what are you having?”
He eyed the menu in my hand, my fingers tingling where I was gripping the flimsy thing too hard.
“I love the arugula salad, but I also like the fries. Maybe love them more,” I said truthfully. I didn’t think there was any point in hiding anything since Mick appeared to be able to read my thoughts.
Zeus returned to take our orders, and Mick asked for an order of fries along with his turkey BLT and my arugula salad.
“Thank you,” I told him.
“Hey, if fries are your thing, no reason to deny yourself.”
We chatted a little more about his time at Wharton, how proud his mom would have been if she were alive. She’d passed away when he was in his last year of undergraduate at Fordham. Breast cancer.
“Those guys were so pretentious,” he said about his classmates, “attending school on their daddy’s money. Then there was me, hungry as hell. My applications for internships were always the first ones in, while my classmates were off skiing or whatever the fuck they did.”
“I get it. When I was at Temple, there were a bunch of kids who couldn’t get in anywhere else. They spent their parents’ money and had a good time with not much to show for it at the end of four years. That’s how I met Tommy,” I said without thinking, and nearly bit my tongue on saying his name.
“Don’t be afraid to share,” Mick said. “I know what the score is. He’s got you. You have a family with him.” He tried to school his tone, but the disdain leaked through his words.
“We met at a study session. An English Lit class. It was part of my major, and he was taking it as a gen ed credit. We rolled our eyes at the general lack of respect most of the students had. The rest is history. Our first date turned into dating, and then living together while he went to law school. We got married the summer of his first job, and Priscilla came pretty soon after that.”
Mick gave me a nod, not only listening with his ears but his eyes too. He seemed to absorb all of me. After more than a decade of being ignored, it was incredibly validating.
“Tell me, when were you going to mention your real name is McKenzie?” I asked, trying to lighten the mood.
“I was saving that for a later time, but Zeus made that hard to do.”
Our food arrived, and Mick and I ate over shared laughs and the smell of salty fries, our fingers brushing when we went to take one and dip into the ketchup.
“What are we doing?” I asked, not really wanting to know. I’d been looking for a life preserver and felt like I’d found a raft with a hole in it.
“We’re having lunch,” Mick said simply. “I’m not going to deny something clicked between the two of us, but you have your commitments, and I’m not going to push you.”
Another round of nodding on my part and we were back to small talk.
“So, tell me why you have so much time to goof around and day drink these days?” I asked, wondering if what he told me about his business endeavor was really true.
“I just signed paperwork on a company. Right now, their current leadership finishes up tasks and helps me clean house, so I have some time to myself before the messy part really begins.”
“Oh. That’s a far cry from me sitting at home in my kitchen on my laptop.”
“Never,” he said somewhat forcefully. “You create something from the ground up with your words, and I rebuild something that someone else already envisioned.”
Desperate to argue the point, I wanted to contradict what he was saying, but was also inclined to drink up the compliment. My well of compliments had long since run dry, leaving me parched and dehydrated.
Sensing my inner debate, Mick said, “Don’t try to argue with me. I’ll win this round. You’re the creator, and I’m the re-doer.”
“That’s very nice of you, but—”
“No buts. Now that you ate, how about that drink?”
“I don’t know,” I said honestly.
“No pressure, but you did say you have an evening to yourself—”
“You know what? I’d like a glass of wine. Here. What I mean is with company, not home by myself.” A little rattled, I grabbed the drink menu without looking at Mick.
Sensing my apprehension, or perhaps his own, Mick turned and looked for Zeus, waving him over.
“Do you know what you would like?” Mick turned to me, and I pointed to the house sauvignon blanc for Zeus.
Mick said, “Make it two,” without looking at my choice, and Zeus was off again.
Smoothing my sweaty palms across the napkin in my lap, I looked up from my empty plate, the salt from the fries still tingling in my mouth. “Two days in a row day drinking. I’m going to be transparent because I don’t want you to think I’m morally bankrupt.”
“Hardly,” Mick said. “I’m the one who should be ashamed. When sparks obviously flowed between us yesterday, I told myself to ignore it. Hell, there are plenty of fish in the sea, right? Ones who aren’t married.”
“There it is. The word we’ve been avoiding. Married.”
“For the record, I decided to let you move on, until the wrist thing. It bugged me all night because I knew . . . I knew where that came from and where it was going.”
“Not necessarily,” I said, sitting up straighter.
Mick didn’t get a chance for his rebuttal because Zeus showed up with our wines. Once I had the stem in my hand and almost a sip on my lips, Mick raised his glass.
“To a better ending for you.”
I guessed that was his rebuttal, and a large part of me wanted to believe it was possible. Despite my arguments, he was right. My marriage wasn’t going somewhere good.
“Well, between the day drinking and being a mom and the marriage thing, I still want you to know I have a moral compass. Drinking isn’t something I do regularly. Yes, I like to be included in the occasional girls’ night out, and when my sorority sister Tammy comes to town, we go out. But the other—meeting men and spending time with them—I’ve never done that.”
“Margo, I don’t think you’re morally bankrupt. First, I think you’re gorgeous. Seriously stunning. Of course, attraction always catches the eye. But five minutes into talking with you, and I knew you have a better soul than most. You try to tamp it down, but you can’t avoid it shining through.”
My heart pounded harder with every word. Tommy never told me I was pretty, let alone stunning, but that wasn’t it. It was the way Mick saw through my facade, clear through my shell and straight to my soul.