Mickey was fully present with each brush of his lips against mine, each trail of kisses he placed across my neck, and each gentle tug of my hair.
I tipped my head back, resting it against a cupboard, as Mickey pressed kisses along my jaw. “I take it you’re giving me a green light?”
He chuckled and brushed his cheek against mine. His short and tidy beard teased my skin.
“I’ll think about it.” He pressed his groin against mine.
“Okay. Just let me know,” I said breathily as I nibbled on his earlobe.
Mickey rested his head against my temple. “I’d tried to convince myself that Halloween was a fluke.” He sighed in a way that almost sounded pained. “It wasn’t.”
“I kept trying to convince myself that the anonymity had to be part of it.” I slid my hand into his back pocket. “That was hot, but this…?” I let my voice trail off.
Mickey pulled back and stared into my eyes. I itched to reach out and smooth the furrow in his brow.
“What are we going to do?”
I’d wondered the exact same thing. I took a partial step back, grabbed his hand, and intertwined our fingers. “We don’t have to make any decisions right now. How about we take this wine to the living room and get to know each other better. I feel like we have years to make up for.”
It killed me that Mickey and I could’ve been friends our entire lives. Ever since that first day of kindergarten, when we’d met and been on the path to becoming instant best friends.
I could still remember getting to class and seeing a shy kid in the corner wearing the same T-shirt as me from my favorite cartoon. I’d marched over to him, told him my name, and said he was my first kindergarten friend. Mickey’s young smile had been as endearing then as it was now. We’d played until the teacher called for class to begin, and when we went to sit next to each other, the teacher had stopped us.“I’m sorry, Amos and Mickey, but your parents wouldn’t want you sitting next to each other. Amos, come sit over here. Have you met Bowie?”
I swallowed a lump in my throat.
Even as much as I loved what was happening, this chemistry between us could go flat as fast as an open bottle of soda. We already had enough external forces against us let alone whatever personal bullshit of our own pasts we would bring.
You’re getting ahead of yourself. Enjoy the time you have.
We carried the wine and our glasses to the living room and didn’t drop our connected hands until we took opposite ends of the couch. Instead, we stretched out and overlapped our legs between us as we faced each other.
I covered his shin with my hand and brushed my thumb along his ankle bone. “Our families would lose it if they knew we were spending time together outside of the festival work,” I admitted. Probably not the best thing to say, but I needed to voice it. Say the words to get them out of my head and body and let them float into the ether.
“They’re not here. We are.” One side of his mouth pulled up in a smile.
“You’re right.” There were a million things I wanted to ask him. If he’d thought Mr. Sprague was as shitty of a teacher as I did. Or how he felt about staying in Maplewood. What did he love most about college? Hell, where did he even go to college?
I decided to jump in feet first with something I’d been wondering more and more lately, given some things I’d picked up on with Mickey. “Do you enjoy working at Red’s? I guess I’ve always assumed you were taking over, but I probably shouldn’t always believe what I hear.” I’d assumed a lot about Mickey and the Brewers.
Mickey whistled. “Hard-hitting questions out of the gate.”
I tilted my head. “Is it a hard question? Do tell. I mean, if you want.” I took a sip of wine to shut myself up and tried not to come off as too eager to learn more about what went on inside Mickey’s head.
He stared at a collection of framed photos on a bookshelf. “Like you’ve said before, no one can understand our situations better than each other.” He fell silent for several long moments. “Remember I had an older brother?”
“Of course. I’m so sorry about what happened.” I’d been too young to know Matty and didn’t really remember it happening, but Sage and I had talked about it years later. They were in Matty’s second-grade class when he died. I didn’t think they and Matty had been friends, but even if they hadn’t been, losing a classmate, especially at that age, would be devastating.
He offered a small smile. “Thanks. I was only four when he died, so my memories of him are fuzzy.”
I couldn’t imagine life if I’d lost Sage. I didn’t even want to entertain the idea.
Tears stung my eyes as I imagined the pain a young Mickey had experienced. It had to have happened less than a year before I’d met Mickey that first day of kindergarten. That made me even more upset that the teacher split us up and set us on a path of divergent lives for nearly three decades.
“I bring it up because my feelings about the diner are complicated. Matty would’ve been the one to take over, I know it. He loved it there. One of my memories of him is a Christmas when Dad gave him his own chef’s hat and apron with his name embroidered on it. Matty wouldn’t take them off for weeks, aside from Mom making him when he took a bath, went to school, or slept. It should be Matty taking over. Not me.” Mickey’s jaw ticked.
Oh.More pieces of the Mickey puzzle fell into place. “You weren’t given a choice.”
He shook his head. “I never asked for one either. The diner’s been in the family for generations. I can’t let my parents down, and Matty isn’t here to do it. I’m the only option.”
