Page 30 of Midlife Crisis

“Long story but thank you. He went back to Paul’s today.” Hank nods and silence slips between us. I can’t hold back. “You said you got in your head. How? What happened?”

Hank’s hands lower, but I reach for his wrists, holding him in place. I want him touching me when he tells me things. When I see his eyes hesitate and his forehead wrinkling, I sense any admission is going to be difficult.

“The woman I mentioned...she didn’t always have time for me. She called me when she needed something, and the fool that I was, I jumped when she offered a high. She reeled me in, and I took the bait, only to be kicked to the curb when she was finished, especially when her kid had needs.”

Hank looks away from me. I would touch his chin to force his gaze back to me, but I’m afraid to release his wrists. I hold my tongue and wait.

“She wasn’t a bad person, just needy. Only she didn’t need me. I didn’t like the feeling, and I felt like that the other night.”

I gasp. “Hank, I’m so sorry. I never meant for you to feel that way.” His mouth presses mine with a quick kiss like the one from our date.

“It wasn’t you. It was me.” He softens, lowering his eyes. “It was her.”

My heart breaks. He loved this woman, and she never loved him. Or maybe, she loved him in her own way, but he couldn’t see it. Either way, I’m sorry for him. Love is so complicated.

“She was embarrassed of me.”

“No, Hank. No.” I stammer in shock. I don’t believe a woman who calls him repeatedly is ashamed of him. But another thought occurs to me.

“Is she still around?” Oh, God. Does this mean if she called him tonight, he’d go to her? Was that woman—the one in the miniskirt and cheetah print—her?

“She’s dead.” Just when I thought I couldn’t feel any sicker, my heart falls to my feet, leaving me empty inside.

“Hank, I’m so—”

“Don’t say sorry. Please.” He pulls back on my wrists, and I let him break our connection. “I’m sorry she’s dead, too. I am, but I’m not sorry we are over. It had to end. She…” He pauses, and the words hesitate. He won’t bring himself to share this with me, so I speak instead.

“I wasn’t embarrassed. Humiliated that my son caught me after having sex with a man not his father? Yes. But not ashamed.” I bend to lower my head under his, forcing him to look at me. “Not ashamed, Hank. Please, don’t ruin it for me. The other night meant too much to me.” I take a deep breath, risking more of myself. “I’m upset, too. I know it wasn’t Elston’s fault directly, but I feel like he ruined something. But I have to say, Hank, if you can’t handle my children, then you can’t handle me. We come as one package.”

His head shoots up, and I pull back, startled by his sudden movement. His hands grip my cheeks again.

“You are a gift, Middy. Wrapped up so pretty in these tight ass jeans where I can see your knees, and I just want to kiss you everywhere.” My face heats. “I ruined the night. Me. Let me make it up to you.”

Laying me out on this desk might be a start, but I don’t say that. Hank tips his head.

“Does your son know anything about me?” Curiosity and hope line his face. I can’t tell him the lie I told my son. After Hank left, making enough noise to wake the neighbors, Elston came to my room, inquiring about the slamming sound.

“I dropped something,” I told him, but as long as he was in my room, a question left my lips. “Can I ask you something? What would you think of me dating?”

“Cool.” He returned to his room. Conversation over.

“I think I have his permission to date. Do I need my kid’s permission?” I pause. I know all the answers. In reality, I don’t—I’m the adult. But I want his approval; I want all their approvals. Paul’s already done enough damage, though Lord knows, they’ll blame most things on me. “What should I tell my son about you?”

“I think you can do whatever you please, little lady, but you tell your son you’re dating. Only me.”

The possessive comment makes me blush. Looking down at the mechanic overalls covering his big body, my palms roam the length of his chest.

“I should have kept your shirt. I wanted to wear it.”

“Want to see you wearing my things, Middy.” My eyes jump back to his. His eyes restored to playfulness despite the cold color.

“Then how about dinner tonight at my place?”

13

Spoiled dinner

[Midge]