Page 93 of Something Borrowed

“And if I go see one of those idiots, you won’t rush off with Wrench Monkey?”

“I was never planning to ‘rush off’ with Wre—Cal, Mom. But yes, that’s right. You will go to a doctor. We’ll check some health things—maybe look into that COPD or whatever you mentioned the other day, and I’ll be right here with you through whatever happens.”

Audra’s mouth pursed, but she didn’t say anything.

“And you absolutely do get a say. You can pick the doctor you see. If there’s something you need or want that I’m not doing, you can ask me. You just can’t be mean to me. Not anymore.

“Fine.” Audra flattened her palms on the table and pushed herself up to standing.

“Okay, then . . . good.” Vic was at a loss for words yet again, so fell back to a comfortable routine—but at least it was a healthier one than some of theirs. “How about a cup of tea before bed?”

“That’d be nice . . . Thank you.” Audra started down the hallway without waiting for Vic’s answer, making a quiet tsss-tsss-tsss sound that she used to call Christmas.

Shaking her head, Vic put the kettle on.

Chapter 44

Vic woke early, as was becoming her habit, made coffee in the machine she’d purchased for her studio, and painted for two hours—also becoming her habit. Just before it was time to hit the shower before work, she checked her email. Then did a double take at the address. Her heart leaped and bounced with such anticipation it was almost dread. Michael!

She read his lengthy email with increasing, well, shock. Then reread it. Then she did something she never would’ve thought she’d do in a million years. She called in to The Second Shop.

“I’m sorry, Madeline,” she explained, providing a few of the details from Michael’s email. “I just know I won’t be able to keep my head on my job or even five minutes—”

“Say no more.”

“But—”

“Not another word. You can catch me up after you’ve called him. Do you need tomorrow off too?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Okay, let me know if that changes. See you tomorrow—and have a good chat with your boy.”

“Thank you.”

She rechecked Michael’s email, then texted without emojis. “Hey, love. I’m going to call you in five minutes. Just giving you a heads up. Please answer if you can.”

She sank to her bed, pulled a blanket over her lap, and exactly five minutes later, good to her word, she rang him. Please let him answer, please let him answer, please let him answer, she chanted inside her head to the rhythm of the ringing.

“Hello?”

Vic was so startled to hear Michael’s live voice on the other end of the line that you could’ve knocked her over with a feather.

“Hello?” Michael repeated, then added, sounding unsure. “Mom?”

She found her voice. “Hello! I’m so happy you answered! Thank you!” Okay, you’re sounding psychotic. Calm down.

“Hi,” she said, more softly. “Sorry for the mania. It’s just good to hear your voice.”

“It’s good to hear your voice too,” he said, laughing lightly. He laughed! Her heart swelled again.

“And thank you for your email. I’m so happy, was blown away, actually, that you want to be closer too—and those ‘unsaid things’ you alluded to that you want to have out in the open. Can we tackle them today?” Vic asked, heart pounding cautiously.

There was a pause on Michael’s end. “No, I think it would be better in person.”

Vic inhaled sharply. Was he saying what she thought he was?

“Does it work for me to come for a week or two in February?”