Soaring (66 page)

He groaned and drove deeper.

God, amazing.

“You like fight night?” he rumbled low.

“Oh yeah,” I gasped.

“You always gonna want your fight night fuck?”

“
Absolutely,
” I breathed.

He fucked me harder and took my mouth in a hot, deep, brutal kiss.

That was it for me.

Then again, I’d had three rounds of foreplay so that was all I needed.

I moaned my orgasm down his throat.

He kissed me through it and kept contact when he groaned his orgasm down mine.

He was still inside me and we were both still breathing heavily when he ordered thickly, “You leave the kids in their seats next fight. They can come back after I fuck you in the locker room.”

“Okay,” I agreed immediately.

He ground his hips into mine as indication he approved of my response and I mewed against his lips.

“Love you, Amy.”

I stilled completely.

He felt it.

“I don’t care if that’s too soon for you,” he announced. “You do with it what you want. Keep it and hold it to you and hope like fuck you give it back when you’re ready. But you gotta know, it’s yours.”

I stared at him through the dark.

“Now, I gotta get back to my kids,” he muttered, shifted to touch his mouth to my jaw then slid out gently.

He pulled me to my feet and held me while I got my legs solid under me. Then he bent and nabbed my panties. He kept a hand to me to steady me as I tugged them on.

After that, he grabbed my hand and led me to the door.

Without a word, he took me in his arms and gave me a long, soft, sweet kiss that went on forever and it was still too short.

He ended it and said, “Talk to you tomorrow, baby.”

He then set me back so he could open the door and he was through it before I called, “Mickey!”

He turned to me.

“You gotta know too,” I said.

He stood there, almost right where I’d first seen him, looking more beautiful than ever.

Because he was mine. All mine. Truly mine.

Every inch.

Straight down to his heart.

“You gotta know I love you too,” I went on. “You’re the best man I’ve ever met, honey. A great dad. A good man.” I smiled. “The
best
neighbor
ever
.”

I watched his eyes dance at the last but I wasn’t done.

“There was no better day than the day Conrad showed up and started shouting at me, because it brought you to me.”

His lips curled up. “Only time I was glad some asshole was in a woman’s face.”

My lips curled up too.

Then they started trembling so I pressed them together.

“Right across the street,” Mickey whispered.

I pressed my lips together harder and nodded.

He gave me an easy grin, “Luck o’ the Irish.”

I started giggling.

His eyes kept dancing.

Then they warmed and he ordered, “Get inside, baby. Get warm. Talk to you tomorrow.”

Like I wasn’t already warm.

Through and through.

“Okay, Mickey. Goodnight.”

“’Night, babe.”

It was then I realized I didn’t mind “babe” at all. Or “darlin’.” Or “baby.”

I’d take anything from Mickey.

Because he meant it.

I lifted my hand to touch it to my lips and drifted it out to him.

Then grinning at him like an idiot (and not caring), I closed the door on the man who loved me.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Awesome Holiday

“I should believe it. I really should. But I don’t believe that man.”

I was in my kitchen, banging around bitching.

This was because it was eleven thirty Thanksgiving morning and the kids were supposed to spend the night last night at my place, seeing as Lawr had arrived yesterday morning. But also so they could help me get things ready for the day.

Conrad had spoken to them and, for some reason, which I could read was not great, they’d changed plans and said they had to spend the night at their dad’s.

However, they promised they’d be at my place by ten because the day had been precisely timed.

The house was clean, that wasn’t a worry.

But there was cooking and baking and table laying to do. They were supposed to help me get most of that sorted so when Mickey and his kids showed up at twelve thirty, we could watch football and relax without too much running around. However, there wouldn’t be much of that since dinner was supposed to happen at two so it wasn’t a rush since they were going to Rhiannon’s at four.

It was perfectly timed. Football on, something to take folk’s attention but things to do together to give opportunities to mingle. Then good food with good company. And before it went on too long, Mickey and his brood had to go to Rhiannon’s so everyone could be let off the hook and they could relax (which I hoped wasn’t necessary but I felt it necessary to plan).

The kids being that late was throwing me off. In fact, the kids not spending the night had thrown me off. I could have no idea but I wouldn’t put it past Conrad to know what was happening with Mickey this Thanksgiving, or that Lawr was going to be there, so he was trying to ruin it for me.

I didn’t like Auden’s tone when he phoned and said they needed to stay with their dad. He didn’t share much and seemed distracted but he also seemed something…
else
.

I just couldn’t get a lock on it.

And again, he didn’t share it with me.

I’d asked but he’d said, “We’ll talk later, Mom,” in a way he needed me to talk with him about it later.

So I decided, for my boy, to let it go.

Now, it was worse not only because they were late but also, except for a quick text from Auden that said simply,
We’re gonna be late. Sorry.
I’d had nothing. I gave it half an hour then I’d texted. I’d phoned.

I’d received no reply.

My kids were not impolite. Since our reunion, this kind of thing didn’t happen. They might not reply immediately, but they replied.

Knowing they were late, they’d reply at the very least so I wouldn’t worry.

I snatched up my cell, declaring, “I’m gonna call
him
.”

“Sweetheart,” Lawr said, reaching out a hand to wrap it around my wrist. “Don’t.”

I looked up at him. “There are pies to be baked!” I snapped.

He lifted his brows and looked down at the pie crust he was rolling out (always there for me, my big brother Lawrie).

“We need to bake three of them, Lawrie,” I reminded him.

“And they’ll get baked,” he replied.

I looked to the crust and mumbled, “I should have made them yesterday.”

And I should have, though I didn’t know how I could have, what with spending half the day baking and decorating Thanksgiving-themed cupcakes to take to Dove House, where, after Mickey left, Lawr, the kids and I were going.

That part of the day I wasn’t nervous about. I was just excited. The kids were finally going to meet the residents and I was going to get to show them and Lawr what I did that meant so much to me.

And bonus, I got to spend time with my old folks on Thanksgiving
with
my family (or most of it, but maybe next year I’d get to take Mickey, Cillian and Aisling).

“MeeMee,” he called and I looked back to him. “If he’s playing some game, you don’t want to lose it and fall into his plans. You also don’t want the kids, who know they should be here and are already probably stressed out that they aren’t, to be
more
stressed with you phoning and texting. Give them another half an hour. If they don’t show, call Auden again. If he doesn’t answer, call Conrad just to be sure they’re okay. In the meantime, try to relax.”

Relaxing was an impossibility.

I was a wreck.

Lawrie read it.

“MeeMee, sweetheart, I know this is a big day. It’s a big day for the kids too. But
you
have to guide it. Get in that space. Okay?”

What he meant was that I had to pull myself together.

Again.

Because of Conrad’s antics.

Again.

But I had made up my mind that he would never again best me.

So I nodded.

The doorbell rang.

I tensed.

I didn’t recognize the shadow in the glass, which was concerning.

As I studied it, Lawrie said, “This is ready. Get it in the plate and pour that gunk in it. I’ll get the door.”

He gave me no opportunity to reply, he walked toward the door.

I rolled the crust on the rolling pin and was spreading it out over the pie plate when I heard, “Signed delivery.”

That surprised me.

Who did signed deliveries on holidays?

I kept spreading as I watched Lawr sign then take the envelope with an expression of gratitude before he closed the door and turned to me.

He was walking and examining the envelope.

He got to the end of the counter and lifted it up. “Mom and Dad’s attorneys.”

I relaxed.

“I have Preston amassing information I can use against Conrad in case he feels the need to get ugly in the future,” I told him something I’d shared previously.

Lawrie didn’t think this was a suitable explanation. I knew it by the puzzled expression on his face as he studied the envelope.

I crimped the crust as I said, “It’s probably something to do with that.”

“Special delivery on a holiday?” Lawrie asked.

I shrugged.

“Can I open it?” he queried.

“Go for it,” I invited.

I kept crimping and had moved on to pouring the pumpkin in the crust when he growled, “Son of a bitch.”

My attention snapped to him.

He looked angry.

No, he looked
enraged
.

I tensed again but not much. It was likely Conrad had done some other horrible thing while we were married and Preston’s investigator had found it.

But except for today’s situation, Conrad had been quiet and not annoying me. So even though it was good to have all the ammunition I might need, so far he hadn’t done anything to make me consider using it.

“If this is going to annoy me, considering Conrad is already pissing me off today, if you could just take that to my room and shove it somewhere the kids can’t see, I’ll look at it later.”

Lawrie gave his eyes to me. “It isn’t from Preston. It’s from Addison.”

I stared at him.

Addison Hillingham was my parents’ attorney at the firm. He was a managing partner.

He was also the executor of the Calway trusts.

“I’m sorry?” I asked my brother.

“Put that in the oven” he ordered.

“Lawrie—”

“Get it baking, Amelia.”

Oh God.

He called me Amelia.

He
never
called me Amelia unless something was happening where he had to go all big brother, like I was doing something stupid after Conrad dumped me, he’d heard about it and he called me to tell me to stop it and pull myself together.

I quickly put the pie in the oven then turned back to Lawrie.

“What?” I whispered.

“I’ll preface this by saying this is bullshit.” He waved the expensive, thick-stock paper in the air. “Clearly you’ve delivered some perceived slight to Mom and Dad and this is their way of communicating who holds the power.”

Oh
God
.

“
What
, Lawrie?”

He drew in a deep breath.

Then he gave it to me.

“They’ve petitioned Addison to examine the terms of your Calway trusts, both the one they set up for you and the one all Calway heirs receive. This request is in regards to your behavior after Conrad left you. They’ve shared with Addison you acted in a manner unbefitting a Calway heir, which breaks the terms of the trusts, and they’ve asked him to consider revoking them.”

I stared at my brother thinking I just
knew
something was up with them.

“They can’t do this,” Lawrie continued. “I was there on more than one occasion where they encouraged you to communicate your distaste for Conrad’s desertion, doing this with what is for them not a small amount of glee. I know Robin was too. We’ll both prepare statements and send them to Addison. If you’re truly in danger, and you’re not, the terms of the trust state that it can be revoked only if behavior garners public attention, which yours did not, then Dad’s in the same position because he encouraged you to do so.”

I kept staring at him, unable to speak.

“Regardless, Addison’s firm gets a retainer from the trust, not Mom and Dad, and he’s a good man,” Lawrie reminded me. “He’ll do what they ask but he’ll adhere to the letter of the trust. This is just posturing and the timing of this delivery is not lost on me. They’re making a point, just like Mom and Dad.” He tossed the papers aside. “Forget it for today. I’ll phone Robin tomorrow and get to work on your rebuttal.”

“They can have it,” I whispered.

“Pardon?” Lawrie asked.

I focused on him. “They can have it. I have the Bourne trust they can’t touch. It’s twenty-five million dollars. I don’t live a lavish lifestyle. I don’t intend to live a lavish lifestyle. But I can easily live a relatively lavish lifestyle off the interest from that trust.”

This was not wrong.

Of course, I could probably not afford to sell off all my belongings, redecorate the entirety of a massive five-bedroom show home, replace my entire wardrobe and buy whatever car I wanted.

But I could get Aisling the expensive blender she was eyeing at Bed Bath and Beyond for Christmas (if Mickey approved, that was).

“You’re not going to lose your trusts, MeeMee,” Lawrie reiterated.

“No, probably not,” I replied. “But I’m not going to phone them and give them the reaction they want to this. Either being angry or being apologetic or,” I threw out a hand, “whatever they want from me. If they push this, fine. They can have the money. They can disinherit me from the piles they’d have given me when they stop breathing. I don’t need that either. I just hope they don’t punish Auden and Olympia with this kind of nonsense. Now
that
would make me angry.”