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“That’s because you’re—” She shook her head. “Never mind.”
“You think I’m jealous because that bozo took you to Burger World?”
The incredulous way in which he said that made her eyes narrow. “Maybe you should be jealous,” she countered.
His gaze honed in on her mouth and for a second, Mimi thought he was going to kiss her. The pathetic thing was that as angry as she was with him right now, she’d let him. She’d let him do a lot more than just kiss her, too. Why was she fighting it? Zeke was never going to change. Their marriage had always been good enough the way it was. But for some reason, good enough, just wasn’t enough anymore.
“I’m tired, Zeke, and I don’t want to fight.”
“I can think of something a whole lot better to do than fighting.” The huskiness in his voice sent a tingle down her spine. Did he know how close she was to doing him right here on this couch?
“Me too, but that’s not going to happen tonight.”
He looked disappointed, but not surprised. “Have you thought about what I said? About going back to counseling?”
“Yes…and I think…okay, let’s try again.”
His dark eyes softened. “You won’t be sorry, Mimi. Whatever it is that’s going on here, I can fix it. If you’ll let me.”
*~*~*
Rusty’s cousin’s cabin was a lot more comfortable than Zeke had thought it would be. There was a small living area with a couch and a T.V and a bedroom with a queen-sized mattress that didn’t hurt his lower back. It was clean and there was a decent working kitchen, although the only thing he’d used it for was to make coffee. The hot water in the shower only lasted a couple of minutes, but he was okay with that. The real downfall was that there was no air-conditioning, which currently wasn’t a problem since it was early March. But in two months this place was going to be a sauna. He needed to expedite his return home. Now that Mimi had agreed to go back to counseling, he’d call to set up an appointment himself if he had to. Which, come to think of, wasn’t a bad idea. It would show her how committed he was to the whole process.
It had been hard leaving her tonight. It had taken every ounce of self-control he possessed to not scoop her off that couch and carry her into the bedroom. It had been almost four months since he’d made love to his wife. He’d be a candidate for sainthood by the time this whole thing was resolved.
His cell phone rang. It was Jerry Bower’s first night as the officer on duty and Zeke had told him to call with any questions he might have. But it wasn’t Jerry’s number that popped up on his screen.
Son of a bitch.
He should reject it. It’s what he’d done the past four times the bastard had called, but obviously he wasn’t getting the message, so Zeke was just going to have to make it crystal clear for him.
“What do you want?” he answered.
“Zeke? Is that you?” It was the same voice he remembered as a kid. The same voice that had read him The Three Little Pigs. The same voice that had cracked with pain when he told him his mother had died. And the same voice that told him eighteen years ago that he was sorry, but he couldn’t help him with Buela or Allie. Of course, he’d been fucking drunk at the time, but what else was new?
“Yeah, it’s me. Like I said, what do you want?”
There was a moment’s hesitation on the other line. “I want to see you, son.”
“Well I don’t want to see you. I’d think that by now you’d have gotten that message.”
“You have every right to be bitter. I deserve your contempt. But…I saw a picture of Allison in the paper this morning and—”
“Her name’s Allie, and how in God Damn Hell did you get the paper? Are you here in town? What? Are you stalking us? Because so help me I’ll get a restraining order on you so fast it will make your head spin.”
“Calm down, Zeke, I’m not out to hurt anyone. I just…I just want to know my kids.”
“You’re twenty-four years too late for that. Don’t call this number again. Got it?”
Before Sam Grant could say anything else, Zeke hung up.
It was the second Saturday in March and the wedding clock was ticking. Mimi could practically hear it in her ear, tick-tock, tick-tock… She didn’t know who was more stressed out—her or Allie. Probably her. For the most part Allie seemed as cool as the proverbial cucumber, while Mimi, well, she was the exact opposite. Most days she felt like a lizard whose tail had just been cut off.
It wasn’t just the wedding that was on her mind, the mayor gig was taking up more time than she’d originally thought it would. In some ways it was getting easier because after a month and a half on the job, she was actually getting the hang of it.
“What? We’re missing a trashcan from the Beach Street entrance to the gulf? Let me bring that to the attention of the city maintenance department.”
Or, “I had no idea that the light on Columbus Street stayed red for so long. You’re absolutely right, Mr. Pettingill, you don’t have all day to just sit there waiting for it to turn green.” Actually, at eighty-nine, it was questionable exactly how much time Mr. Pettingill had left for anything, but Mimi still contacted the county engineer to see if he could coordinate the lights better.
