Page 2 of Midlife Crisis

Edie giggles, and her husband kisses her neck before looking up at me. “I’m Tommy,” he offers. With one arm still around his wife, he extends his other hand forward to shake. “Tommy Carrigan, and I belong to this woman.”

I chuckle at his unabashed announcement. “I thought this was a Meet-the-Wife party.”

“Just clarifying I’m the husband. Oh, I like the sound of that so much, darlin’.” He kisses his wife again and then steps back from her. “Holy shit. Hank?”

Edie and I both look up at a larger man. I’m typically not attracted to tattoos, but I can’t seem to stop staring at his forearms. My eyes roam up to his jaw. Roughly covered with more silver than black, it’s the opposite of his ink-colored hair, which is cropped close to his head with here-and-there gray. He’s the perfect mix of salt-and-pepper. A silver fox, actually, and suddenly I’m thinking of silver glitter for some reason and wanting him to paint my skin with his scruffy chin. The thought makes me tingle in places I thought forgot how to tingle. My face heats at getting caught staring and his responding expression gives away the possibility of a hard life. Crinkles next to his squint announce the lines of age, but his hazel eyes sparkle with mischief. Oh, he’s dangerous.

“Hank. Hank Paige, is it really fucking you, man?” Tommy’s voice carries. He reaches out to man-hug this bear of a man. Watching them clap each other on the back, I turn to Edie, hoping for some clarification.

“I have no idea who he is,” she murmurs, sipping her wine and pasting on a smile to prepare for an introduction.

“Edie, darlin’, this is Hank Paige. The best dru—”

“Just Hank,” he interrupts, holding out a hand for Edie but shifting his eyes back to me. “Hank,” he offers once he releases Edie and reaches toward me.

“Midge. Midge Everette.” I hold my breath a second, waiting for a man of his stature to make a snarky comment. His appearance is one of a former football player. Definitely someone who was a bully. He’d be the first to make fun of my name if we were still kids. Midge. Mudge. Sludge. Midge. Fidge. Fudge. I’ve heard it all.

“Midge? That’s an unusual name. One I don’t think I’ll quickly forget.” Oh, he’s smooth, I think as the warmth of his hand still lingers over mine. His fingers are thick, and thoughts race to things I shouldn’t be thinking like how they would feel rubbing up my thighs. I could get to lost in…Sweet cheese, what’s wrong with me? My mind went straight to the gutter within thirty seconds of meeting a totally tall, strong, and all wrong for me stranger.

“How unfair is that? Not a stitch of gray hair on your head,” Tommy teases his friend. Hank rubs a hand over the cropped hair, and it stands up as he scrubs back to front. His eyes don’t leave mine.

“It’s there, but it seems to like my jaw more.” Oh, I like your jaw more, I decide as my eyes return to his chin and the scruff covering it. My thoughts flitter to how it might feel if he tickled my skin with his stubble. Heat spreads on my cheeks a second time. Something is definitely wrong with me. Maybe it’s the wine? His gaze finally leaves me, and I turn to Edie.

“Where’s the bathroom?” I just need a minute. I don’t know what I’m doing among this collection of born-beautiful and potentially talented people. I’m out of my element and suffocating from the uncomfortable feeling.

“Down the hall. First door on the right,” Edie explains. She twists and waves her arm.

“Last door on the right,” Tommy corrects. Edie laughs.

“We’ve only lived here a month or so. I’m lucky we even got unpacked for this party,” she adds.

“It’s been more than a month, darlin’. We’ve been married for forty-three days.”

What the heck? I chuckle at his knowledge.

“Already counting the days. You have a long-ass future if you start there.” Hank scoffs. He has a nice voice—smoky and smooth.

“A long-ass future is all I plan on having with this woman,” Tommy retorts. “I’m counting the days to make up for the years it took me to find her.”

For some reason, I just want to cry at the sweetness of this man. On that note, I need a break before I make a fool of myself.

+ + +

Suddenly, I really have to pee, and I can’t find the light switch. Thankfully, a candle illuminates the small powder room, and since I know where all my body parts should go, I sit in the dark. After I finish my business, I stand to wash my hands and catch my reflection in the mirror. The candlelight produces an angelic effect highlighting my face, and my hair disappears in the darkness behind me. Shaky hands smooth down my neck and tug at my cheeks. I turn my head side to side. I’m not awful, but compared to the people on the other side of this door, I’m nothing special.

In the midst of my self-examination, the door opens outward, and a large body fills the space.

“Just give me a minute,” he breathes, holding out a hand to someone in the hall, and then slams the door. I step back as he’s blocking the doorway, and he spins. Leaning against the closed door, he breathes deeply, exhaling slowly as he scrubs his hands over his face. He roughs his hair, rubbing back and forth, before looking up.

“Umm…I was just…” It couldn’t be more obvious. I’ve used the bathroom, but he’s obstructing my exit.

“I just need a minute,” he says, making no motion to move out of the way. Should I be frightened I’m in a small enclosed space with a large man I don’t know? It’s dark. There’s candlelight. It could be romantic. I sigh. It’s a freaking powder room, for heaven’s sake.

“I can just leave if you’ll let me…” He straightens from the door, and my words falter.

“Don’t be frightened.”

“I’m not,” I say, and I mean it. I realize in the space of the two minutes we’ve been in this room, I feel completely at ease with his presence despite his hulky size. He presses forward, but when I move to step around him, the sink wedges us together. He’s behind me, and I press into the counter, my backside brushing against his jeans. We stop. Our eyes meet in the ripple of candlelight reflected by the mirror.