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My relationship with my parents was tenuous at best. We kept it civil lately because of the wedding, and because they loved Michael. They thought he had great potential in business, if not football, which ultimately led my father—a sports attorney with connections to agents—to take Michael on as a client.
He’s fantastic. Unlike that other boy you used to date.I could hear my mother’s cool voice in my head, see the slight wrinkle of her nose as she thought of Andrew. Who, by the way, I never dated. But those were just semantics to my mother.
“Is there anything else?” I sighed. I looked at my watch, then at the time on my microwave. I shifted so that my feet dug into my couch. “I’m at my apartment, but Michael should be here any minute.”
“No, nothing else.” She shifted the papers again. “And how is Michael doing? You two are only two months out from the big day. Any wedding jitters?”
“Nope, he’s as solid as ever,” I said, unable to keep a slight edge from my voice. Michael, as solid as ever. His heartbeat was even steady when we kissed.
“Well, as we say, happy husband, happy wife.”
“Doesn’t the saying go, ‘happy wife, happy life’? Shouldn’t he be trying to keep me happy?”
“Alicia, don’t start getting all bent out of shape. You know taking Michael as a client means a lot to your father. Michael’s family has connections that we couldn’t have even dreamed of. This could be the thing that makes or breaks your father’s firm. We need Michael to be on board.”
Michael, Michael, Michael. I made a face at the phone to avoid snapping at Mother. If I heard any more about this partnership that Michael and my father were working on, I’d go insane. “It’s fine, Mother. I understand.”
Fine, fine, fine, everything’s fine. Isn’t it, Ace?
It was as if Andrew was in the room with me. My heart jumped to life at the thought of him. I frowned and turned away from those thoughts. Remember, I thought. Things have changed. You have a future marriage to think about now.
“…need anything else,” my mother finished. I quickly searched my brain for the last sentence that she said. God forbid she caught me not listening.
“I will,” I promised. “Goodnight, Mother.”
“Goodnight,” she said just as Michael was walking in. Sighing in relief, I hung up the phone and smiled at Michael. “Hey, you.”
“Hey, yourself.” As I watched him saunter across the room, I marveled at the god that was my future husband. His muscles rippled with each step he took. While Andrew favored a basketball player physique, Michael was all football. Wide, broad shoulders. Biceps the width of my leg. Watching him stroll across the room, brazen confidence apparent with each step, he practically set my body on fire. We hadn’t had sex yet, at Michael’s insistence. Ever the traditional one, he wanted to wait for marriage because he felt like it was the right thing to do, as if he was protecting my virtue somehow. Still, it didn’t stop me from picturing my legs wrapped around his torso, could almost feel him drive into me as I uttered irreverent prayers to our bedroom ceiling.
I studied his full lips, looked into his hazel eyes. A grin flashed across his face, dimples making their delectable appearance.
He bent down to briefly touch his lips to mine then dropped his bag to the floor. A slight flash of irritation zipped through me before I tamped it down. There was a hook specifically for Michael’s bag, but he refused to even acknowledge it. Though I could appreciate that Michael felt at home wherever he was, this was still my apartment. My apartment, my rules.
I didn’t mention it to him, though.
“How was the talk with your mom?” he asked as I fought my irritation.
“The usual. Straightforward.” I grimaced. “She says hi, by the way.”
“Hi back.” He grinned at his own joke.
“How was the gym?”
“Good.” He flexed and kissed his bicep. “Making gains. This will be my year, babe. I feel it.”
“Yeah?” I turned to him as he dropped to the couch and propped my feet on his lap. “Did something happen?”
He started to rub my arches and I hummed my satisfaction. “Yeah. The starting running back pulled a hamstring. The trainers don’t know how long it’s gonna take him to recover.”
I raised my eyebrows. “Yikes. That sucks for him—probably hurts, doesn’t it?” Michael frowned as if that didn’t even occur to him. “But it’s good for you,” I added hastily.
He shrugged. “Yeah. It’s a step in the right direction.”
We sat in silence, lost in our own minds for a moment, before I cleared my throat. “So, I wanted to ask you something.”
“Yeah?” He reached for the remote and turned the TV on. A laugh track played softly in the background. “What’s up?”
“I ran into Andrew today.” I fiddled with my ring for the third time today. “He wanted to grab coffee and catch up.”
