He heard footsteps behind him, which he ignored until a wiry younger man stopped at the door next to him, his gaze narrowed on Mike. ‘Did you make her cry?’
‘Probably.’ Mike closed his eyes for a moment and grimaced. ‘Most definitely.’
The stranger made a disgusted sound. ‘No one should make her cry.’ He pointed at the closed door. ‘That woman right there, she’s a gift. You kiss her feet, you don’t make her cry.’
‘I know.’
‘Then why did you do it?’
Mike sighed. ‘Because I’m a fucking miserable git.’
‘I don’t know what that means,’ the man admitted. ‘But from your tone, it’s not a good thing.’ His glower deepened. ‘Maybe you should go home. Don’t come back until you can treat her right.’
Mike nodded, but he wasn’t sure the man saw him before that door clicked shut in his face as well.
Mike had been miserable when he got home. He’d taken a shower, hoping to wash away the bitter end to the evening. His heart felt leaden, sinking down into his gut. As soon as he was dry enough, he pulled out his laptop and typed out an email to his work team that he’d be working from home tomorrow because he wasn’t feeling well. He was supposed to meet them at nine, but the idea of going about his day in the morning felt about as appealing as splitting open his own chest with his bare hands right now.
Once he’d sent the email, he climbed into bed, naked, his hair still wet from the shower, and immediately passed out.
And apparently left his ringer on, because he was woken up by it the following morning. He couldn’t think of who would be calling him at this time. Mike climbed out of bed, blinking at his phone. It wasnoon.He couldn’t remember the last time he’d slept that long. He pulled on a pair of pyjama trousers and stumbled to the kitchen. His phone had stopped ringing, which was good, because he wasn’t going to speak to a single person before he had a cup ofcoffee in his hands. As he got the coffee brewing, his phone started up again.
Mike gave up and fetched the infernal device. Rahul’s name flashed across the screen, a picture of his son kissing his husband’s cheek flashing right below it. Mike let out a breath, set the phone up on the counter and clicked the accept button.
His son appeared on the screen, cigarette in hand, as he leaned against the side of his house. ‘Well, thank fuck, there you are.’
‘Here I am.’ Or as here as he was going to get right now. He felt blurry from sleep, his mouth thick, his movements clumsy.
Rahul took a drag on his cigarette, his gaze razor sharp. ‘You look absolutely wretched, Da.’
Mike propped his elbows on the counter. ‘You’re not supposed to be smoking. Noah’s going to lose it.’
Rahul pointed at the screen. ‘That’s between me and the love of my life. I’m not calling about that.’
Unable to wait any longer, Mike fetched a mug and placed it directly under the coffee spout. ‘Then why are you calling?’
‘Because your daughter has been blowing up my phone for the last hour, that’s why.’
He frowned. ‘Amaya? Why? Oh god, has Barney died already?’
‘Who the fuck is Barney?’ Rahul asked, then flicked his hand. ‘Never mind. No, that’s not why she was calling. She was calling because you showed up on a certain blog this morning.’
‘Oh no,’ Mike groaned. ‘Was it bad? Does she hate me?’
Rahul’s eyes narrowed. ‘Why would you ask that? What did youdo?’
Mike sighed, grabbing his coffee and setting the jug back with his other hand as he sipped. Cream, he definitely neededcream. ‘I’m not sure I want to get into this particular topic with my son.’
Rahul made a disgruntled noise. ‘Who you going to talk about it to, then? Amaya?’
‘No,’ Mike said, his voice firm. ‘That’s even worse.’
‘Then I’m it, aren’t I?’ Rahul asked, looking off screen. ‘Shit.’ He threw down his cigarette and stomped on it.
‘Yes, because I absolutely didn’t see you smoking just then.’ Noah’s dry voice drifted in from off screen. Then his face appeared, blond hair slicked back, grey eyes merry. ‘Is that your dad?’ He grinned. ‘Michael, how are you?’
‘He’s fucking miserable, that’s what,’ Rahul said, his tone softening as he continued. ‘Sorry. I know I said I’d quit—’
Noah rolled his eyes indulgently. ‘Later, love. Why’s your dad miserable?’
