Cement Heart(84)

“The kids are sleeping, and I can pay the sitter. You should go.”

She leaned in close. “You don’t have to do that.”

“I know I don’t have to. I want to. Seriously… I’ll go relieve Desi, and you go out for a bit with these two.” I turned to Sarah and Nicole. “Can one of you give her a ride home?”

Sarah nodded. “Absolutely.”

I shook my head slowly. “You have no reason not to go. You said yourself you missed them.”

“Oh, please, Michelle?” Nicole begged. “Just for a little while? I swear we won’t stay out late.”

Michelle’s eyes grew hopeful as they bounced back and forth between me and the girls. “Okay. Let’s do it.”

Sarah and Nicole shrieked in excitement at an ear-piercing level as Michelle bent down close to me. “You sure this is okay with you?”

“Yes.” I laughed and nodded. “Go. Have fun. Keep your dress pulled down, please.”



I drove myself back to Michelle’s house, replaying that dance over and over in my head.

Could we make it work?

Could we both let go just enough to make it possible without letting go completely?

When her head had been on my chest and her arms were around me, I felt like anything was possible. That sounded so stupid and cliché, but it was true. Michelle made me feel invincible.

Once I was back at Michelle’s, I gave Desi a hundred-dollar bill and sent her on her way. I took my suit jacket off, hung it on the back of a kitchen chair, and unbuttoned my pants to let my full belly loose. I grabbed the baby monitor from the kitchen and lay down on the couch in the living room, flipping to SportsCenter on the TV.

It was weird being in that room without Michelle there. As I sat there, in the quiet house with SportsCenter muted, my mind started to wander. It was in that very room less than a year ago that Big Mike had told me he could see me married with kids. He’d told me he thought it would soften my cement heart. How fucking ironic that it was his wife I was falling for and his kids I was helping parent? My eyes shifted around the room. Pictures of Mike and Michelle’s wedding still hung on the wall. A bookcase in the corner was filled with framed pictures of their family.

The four of them at the hospital after Maura was born.

Mike and Matthew in the front yard, riding bikes.

Mike, Michelle, and Matthew at Walt Disney World.

Mike grinning with his hand on Michelle’s pregnant stomach.

Mike and Michelle kissing.

My chest started to hurt like I’d been punched square in the sternum. For a second, I thought maybe I was having a heart attack. Then I realized I wasn’t that lucky.

The living room started closing in around me as I paced the house, on the verge of a panic attack. What the fuck was I thinking hanging out there all the time? Why had I let myself get so close to Matthew and Maura? Why the fuck had I let myself fall for Michelle as hard and fast as I had? Why did I let myself fall for her at all?

Because of Big Mike, you dumb son of a bitch. You promised Big Mike you’d take care of his family, but instead you stole it.





I SPENT THE next two hours sitting at the kitchen table with my head in my hands trying to figure out what I was going to say to Michelle when she got home. I didn’t want to walk out of Matthew’s life, not at all, but I couldn’t keep coming to the house to see him. Maybe she’d let me take him once a week or something. The bigger question swirling around in my head was how long was it going to take for me to recover from this? I’d never felt like this about anyone before, and I’d certainly never lost anyone in this way. Could you ever recover from something like that?

The sound of a key jiggling in the door made my heart sink.

This is gonna suck.

I stood up and walked to the kitchen doorway, and I could tell immediately that Michelle had drank too much.

“Hey,” she whispered loudly.

“Hey.” My body stiffened as she walked right up to me and wrapped her arms around my waist. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fantastic,” she slurred a little. “I had such a fun time with those girls.”

“Where’d you guys go?”

“I don’t know. Some bar.” Letting go of my waist, she wobbled over to the fridge and grabbed a bottle of orange juice. She took a big drink and then stared at the bottle. “We should cook with this.”

I tried not to laugh at her, but drunk Michelle was super fucking cute.

“Anyway, are the kids still sleeping?”

“Yep, not a peep out of them.” I walked over and sat on the kitchen chair, wondering if it was the best time to talk to her.

“Good.” She trailed her finger along the counter as she slowly walked over to me. “I’ve been thinking about that dance all night. It’s driving me crazy, actually.”