Page 71 of Midlife Crisis

Although it’s nearly midnight, I finally have a chance to call her.

“Did I wake you?” I hear her rustle under the sheets, and I wish I was there. I’d smother her with my apology, kiss away her fears, and draw her against me.

“You okay?” Her voice remains steady, distant, and hesitant. I don’t like the separation I feel from her, but I know I put the space between us. Her silent treatment earlier in the day kills me. I don’t want it to be a reminder of someone else, although it is. But it also makes me reflect on the fact, I did this to myself. Midge was willing and wanting to give me an out for my son, and I pushed her over the edge. Still, I find it curious she asks about me, as if she’s worried about me, when I’m worrying about her. It’s a strange sensation to think she really cares about me.

“I’m good,” I say for lack of something else. I swipe a hand over my hair. Shit, this is difficult. “So, Pendleton finally called.” It isn’t a question. She sent me a text earlier in the day to tell me he did. I’ve been at the crisis center since three and it’s been a hectic evening.

“What did you do?”

“I just made him hold up his end of the deal.” Silence fills the line and I can almost imagine her twisting her lips with thought.

“Why?” It isn’t a question I can answer, knowing she’s upset with me. Because I love you.

“It’s my grand gesture,” I awkwardly explain. “I want to please you. I want you to be happy. If working for Pendelton means you get what you want, then I want that for you.”

“You didn’t have to do that,” she says, not addressing what I’ve just admitted.

“I wanted to.” It’s true. I want to do everything for her. “Let me drive you there tomorrow.” Sensing she’s about to object, I interject, “It’s insurance.”

“Insurance for what?”

“He’ll actually see you. He’s not getting his engine running until he does.” She huffs softly, but not fully giggling at my joke. I miss her laughter, and my heart pinches knowing I put the sadness in her.

“You nervous, little lady?” I cough to cover the slip. I’m trying not to pressure her, but I can’t help myself. She’s my little lady.

“No.” She pauses. “I think it’s lost its luster the second time, but I guess I should thank you for looking out for me. I know you must have done more than take those plugs.”

More. I owe her so much more. I want to give her so much more. I ignore her probing statement. I don’t want to explain the altercation with Pendelton’s son.

“No thank you is necessary, baby.” I wince at the use of another endearment, but I can’t help myself. I want to wrap her up and hold her and I’m tempted to U-turn to her house. I’m on my way home, and my bed wouldn’t be the same since I had her there last night. Her scent fills the sheets. “Let me drive you tomorrow,” I repeat.

“You don’t have to do that.” Her voice softens.

“Please. I want to.”

“Okay,” she hesitates. “The meetings at ten.”

“I’ll be ready.” Tomorrow won’t come soon enough.

+ + +

Leaning against the hood of Brut’s SUV, I wait. Midge seemed nervous during the ride here, fidgeting with her skirt. She remained quiet, rubbing at her forehead. Hopefully, it was nerves for the interview and not me. She returns forty minutes later. Crossing the parking lot, she takes my breath away in her tight red skirt and high heels. She’s a vision of businesswoman on a mission, and the determination on her face goes straight to my pants. I’m hardening as she strides toward me, and I itch to wrap her in my arms and kiss the crap out of her when she gets close to me. I hold the thought. Her lips curl slowly, and I step forward.

“Well?”

“At least, he saw me this time.” She shrugs, a touch of the confident woman fading a little. Her forehead pinches, and she reaches for it. “He said he’ll get back to me.”

I open the SUV door for her, telling her I need a moment. I step up to the Bentley, return the plugs, and then turn for the building. There’s a sense of being watched, so I salute the glass. Asshole. He better give my girl a chance.

Climbing into the SUV, I find Midge with her head against the window, stroking her forehead again.

“You okay, baby?” Her eyes close at the endearment, but I don’t care. I’m worried.

“I think I’ve worked myself into a headache. It will pass.” She continues to rub, massaging at her tense skin. We drive a few minutes in silence, and I wait on edge for her to explain what happened.

“It was good, though, right? He loved it.” I can’t stand the quiet between us.

“I think I did well. He was attentive, unlike his son, and took notes.” Suit guy comes to mind, and I cringe. He’s the type of guy she should be with, dressed the way she is. She’s smart and talented in a business sort of way. They would fit one another, and I grip the steering wheel harder. I don’t want her to fit with the uptight suit. I want her with me. She goes silent again, her head resting against the glass. I reach out for her leg, and when she doesn’t brush me off, I squeeze.