Yours, Mine & Ours

“He’s one of the main reasons I gave up sex after the divorce.”

She’d done a fine job of steering clear of him for almost a week, but shoot. There were some things she could resist. This wasn’t one of them. “I’m bringing fresh coffee,” she said, went into her house, refilled her mug, filled one for him and crossed the driveways to his front porch.

He was sitting on the front step, with his critters. Cat wasn’t about to budge, but the hound made room for her.

He accepted the mug, took a long deep slug of it. Said, “George is a germ freak. He’s afraid of dirt and germs. Or about everything important in a little boy’s life. Teddy can’t do anything right when he’s over there-and I’m going to worry about him the whole damned day.”

“I would, too.”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he said firmly, and then, “She’s not pushing for custody. Good thing. Because I’d fight her to the wall. But I can’t deny her time with Teddy. I mean, she’s his mother, for God’s sake.”

“I understand.”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he said again, took another gulp of coffee, hunched elbows on his knees and then went on. “I couldn’t believe it when I found out she was cheating. I know this sounds damned egotistical, but I honestly believed that part of our lives was fine. Better than fine. So the worst part was finding out she was cheating with him.”

Since he’d already finished his mug, she handed him hers. She wasn’t drinking more coffee anyway. She tried not to breathe. She didn’t want anything diverting him from telling her more of the story.

He shot a gesture to the sky. Not the middle-finger gesture. Just a frustrated gesture. “If she was going to cheat, at least it could have been with a better-looking guy. A richer guy. Someone who had some appeal, I could see. But Mr. Dork there? Talk about a kick in the nuts. Not that I want to talk about it.”

“I can see you don’t.”

“But then and there, I voted for celibacy for the rest of my life. I mean, I admit, I worked long hours. But I also made good money. When Teddy was born, I brought in help for her, with the baby and the house. Made sure she had private time to see her friends, take on projects, not always feel tied down. And she was a good mom. I thought. And I thought I was making time for the two of us. We still went out. Did things. Hell. I didn’t even know she was unhappy. She just said out of the blue that she was leaving. For George. And told our son that we hadn’t gotten along, but Teddy never saw us not getting along. So he keeps saying he knows it was because he was too much trouble.”

“Yikes,” she said gently.

“He’s not too much trouble. But that bozo makes it all worse, because Teddy can’t please him. He really, really tries, but sooner or later, a glass of milk is going to spill. Or he’ll forget to flush. Or he’ll pick up something he’s not supposed to touch. Or he’ll do something wrong, on George’s terms. Nobody yells at him. He just hates it there. You know what he tells me?”

“What?”

“That going there makes him sick to his stomach. That’s why I did the worm farm. And dug the water garden in back. I just wanted to let him do certain things-make messes, get dirty. If he spills some water, putting water in the dish for the dog and cat, it’s like, so what? He’s learning to take care of pets, to look out for them. He’s four. How is he supposed to do anything perfect when he’s four?”

“Mike?”

“What?”

“It kills me, too. When I have to give up my kid for the day. And I had a huge list of stuff on the day’s plate, from curtains to wallpaper to organizing closets. I still have dishes in boxes. And-”

“Good grief. I could get tired, just imagining you trying to accomplish all that.”

“I’m tired, just thinking about it. Which kind of sparked a new thought.” She hesitated, certain a bad idea was about to surface, yet for that precise second she couldn’t analyze why it was so bad. “How about if we spend a few grown-up hours together? Have lunch out. Someplace you’d never take four-year-olds. Then see a movie. Something-anything-that’s not a cartoon or has Disney anywhere in the credits.”

He looked at her. She looked back. He said, “I’ll change shoes and get my wallet.”

“I have to take the dog out.”

“Speaking of which-”

“No, she hasn’t been to the vet yet. The whole thing got kind of complicated. I had an appointment, then their office called and said the vet had a family emergency. But she’s seeing Darling in two days. The appointment’s made. So that’s not a problem on the table today.”

“Okay, then. Five minutes. Back here. My car?”

“Fine by me.”

Chapter Six

Six hours later, Mike left the Dan Ryan-the expressway where faint-of-heart drivers were tortured at rush hour, a uniquely Chicagoan sport-and turned into the curve toward the western suburbs. They still wouldn’t be home for another twenty minutes.

He didn’t want the day to end.

He glanced at his passenger. Amanda had never said a word about riding in the pickup, but she was obviously comfortable. Even strapped in, she’d managed to curl her legs under her, had slipped off a sandal.

“This has been the best day,” she murmured.

“You’re not kidding.” He’d been both wary and willing of playing hooky with her. Wary, because she already inspired too many wrong ideas and hormones. And yet willing, because…well, because after his ex-wife drove off, he’d still felt the rug burns on his ego.

Nancy had never said the exact words, but her opinion of him was clear. Lawyer or not, great education or not, he was still hopelessly rough-edged. Too earthy. Too physical. Too sexual. Her choosing ‘George’ pretty obviously underlined everything she’d found wrong with him. Maybe he’d achieved stature in a notable law firm, but that didn’t give him elegance or taste by her standards.

Amanda was distinctly a woman of elegance and taste. So chances were she’d discover those rotten qualities and back off…or his own rug burns would make him too wary to get further involved.

All of which was to say…he’d been able to relax with her today.

Maybe even more than relax. They’d had just plain old ordinary fun. She’d picked the lunch spot, a place where she got to choose lobster bisque and he could vote for a raw red steak. Their entrees echoed how different they were, but that didn’t seem to matter. The restaurant was packed with a professional lunch crowd. All adults. No spills, no screams, no, “I don’t want this!” or “Are we done yet?” or “I’m bored, Dad!”

The movie was even better. She’d picked the restaurant, so he’d picked the movie. It was the first flick he’d seen in ages that had some skin, some blood, some action. She could eat the chocolate she wanted. He could have his own popcorn. No one whispered in his ear. No one claimed they had to go to the bathroom three times. He actually got to see a movie from start to end.

It’s not as if this were a date…

He wasn’t aware he’d spoken aloud, until Amanda chuckled. “Of course it wasn’t a date. We’re not dating. We just had a grown-up afternoon.” She sighed with contentment. “No Bambi. No comic-book characters. And I had the whole chocolate bar.”

He laughed. “You had two, I believe.”

“Yeah, I admit I went overboard-but I haven’t had a whole chocolate bar to myself in…well, in years. I’m always trying to think about setting the right example.” She smiled at him again. “That’s the best part. A whole afternoon without any ‘shoulds’ or ‘have tos’.”

Damned, if he didn’t feel exactly the same way. It was funny, but he hadn’t been easy in his own skin for a long time now. Certainly not when he was married. There always seemed to be something he was doing or saying wrong, something that was going to get analyzed and criticized.

It seemed unbelievable-if not downright crazy-that he could feel that rare sense of easiness with her.