"I hope they have your smile," he says, and I close my eyes and picture it-a little boy and a little girl, both with my smile but Mike's big brown eyes.
My heart aches as I realize how much I want that. I want the white picket fence. I want Mike grilling out back. I want an obscene amount of bedrooms, and I want one of them to be ours. I want to lie with him like this at night-every night. I don't want to let this go.
I can't let this go.
I turn in his arms, and with our cheeks pressed against the same pillow, I allow acceptance to wash over me: I can't let this go. Even if I lost him, even if I made the biggest mistake of my life and gave him up, I would fight to get him back. I would fight for him. Even if it meant giving up school for a while, I would never stop fighting to keep him.
Because he doesn't want a rock star mansion and fancy cars. He wants a pretty house with a banana pepper garden and kids with my smile. He wants me. Wild hair and tattered hoodies and all.
"I love you," I say, and Mike reads my expression. He doesn't know I just made the biggest decision of my life, but I hope he can see it in my eyes-that I choose him, that I will always choose him.
"I love you too," he says, and when he kisses me, there is love, and there are sparks, and there is the promise of a future that I will no longer allow anyone to threaten.
Mike Madden is mine, and I'm keeping him.
Chapter 49
When I wake a couple hours later, at two in the morning, I'm alone, and I panic. In Mike's T-shirt and a pair of underwear, I throw off the covers and rush from his room, thinking he already left. It's still pitch-black outside, but I missed him. He let me sleep, and now it's going to be nine more days before I see him again. A lifetime.
"No," I say, fighting off tears. I flick on lights as I search the house, but I can't even find Phoenix. She's not on the couch. She's not in the kitchen.
"Mike?" I ask as I investigate room after room. "Phoenix? Come here, girl!"
Silence answers me, and I stand in his living room with my hands on my head, wondering if I've finally cracked and lost my damn mind. There's no sign of Mike-except the T-shirt I'm wearing. I lift it to my nose to see if it smells like him, and I'm still standing there sniffing it when the front door opens.
Mike walks in, wearing a fresh shirt and holding a dog leash in his hand, and the loose fabric drops from my hands.
"Good morning," he says with a bright smile, letting Phoenix off her leash and walking over to wrap me in his arms and give me a kiss on the head. Phoenix stands by our side, wagging her tail excitedly.
In shock, I search Mike's eyes. I forgot to tell him about Phoenix living here last night, and now he's . . . walking her? She's letting him walk her? She let him touch her?
"We met when I came in last night," Mike explains, dropping down to scratch Phoenix behind her ears. She eats it up, pushing the top of her head against his chest. "I think she likes me."
I watch them together-Mike petting her head, Phoenix licking his face, him coaxing her onto her back, her letting him scratch her tummy.
My hand flies to my mouth, and when Mike looks up at me, tears are welling in my eyes. "Baby," he says, quickly rising to his feet. "What's wrong?"
"She's letting you touch her," I say, watching as Phoenix nuzzles Mike's leg for more attention.
Mike's brow furrows before he gazes down at her-at the golden Chow who weeks ago was balled up in a cage, drenched in her own urine. "Wait, is this the dog? The one you rescued from the dogfighting ring?"
I nod as scorching tears drip over my cheeks, and Mike glances at Phoenix again before tugging me into his arms. "Why are you crying, Hailey?"
"I don't know," I sob, wishing I could stop. "I'm happy."
Mike chuckles and rubs my back. "Are you sure?"
"Yes," I sniffle, pulling myself together. I step back and hold my hand out for Phoenix, patting her nose when she pushes it into my palm. "You're not upset she's here?"
Mike sits on the floor, and Phoenix immediately squeezes her big body onto his lap. He smiles as he pets her, and her tail swings wildly over his leg. "No, I owe her one for keeping you company while I've been away. Did you adopt her?"
I frown, not knowing how to answer that question. "They were going to send her away, but I couldn't let that happen, so . . ." I take a heavy breath. "I don't have anyone to keep her."
"I'll keep her," he volunteers without hesitation, petting her as he gazes up at me.
"Mike . . ."
I stop myself, unsure of how to finish that sentence. Before last night, I would have talked him out of it. I would have felt guilty that he offered to help, and I would have rejected the favor . . . But I really don't have anyone else to keep her, and she's on his lap. The dog who wouldn't let anyone else touch her is sitting on his lap, wagging her tail excitedly. I don't know if it's because she got used to his scent by living in his house before he came home, or if it's just because Mike is impossible not to like, but she's clearly as in love with him as I am, and who am I to take that away from her?
"Are you sure?" I ask, giving Mike one last out, and he glances at Phoenix only to get a surprise lick to his nose.
His answer comes in the form of a deep, happy laugh, and I fall even more in love with him. "Yeah," he says as he wipes Chow slobber off his face. "We'll share her, okay?"
"So we have a dog?" I ask, and I don't know why that question stokes the butterflies inside of me, but their silken wings tickle the inside of my stomach.
"We have a dog," Mike confirms, tugging me down next to him.
Mike and I pack as many laughs, smiles, and kisses as we can into the forty-five minutes we have before he has to leave. I lament that he has to spend Thanksgiving so far from home, but he assures me that waking up with me in his arms this morning more than made up for it. I make him promise to try to track down some turkey lunch meat in Dublin so that he and the guys can at least have turkey sandwiches, and we make plans for me to try his mom's green bean casserole next Thanksgiving.
He gives me a nice kiss before he gets in his truck to leave, and then he gets back out of it to pin me against the door and kiss me breathless. I'm a boneless mess when he finally drives down the dark road, through the trees that separate his house from the city. I watch him disappear, touching my fingers to my lips and closing my eyes, smiling in the dark.
Just a few hours ago, nine days seemed insurmountable, and I didn't feel like I could get through them. Now, I can actually breathe when I think about them. Nine days-it's not that long. Mike knows I'm waiting for him, and now I know I'm waiting for him too. I'm not waiting to give him up-I'm waiting to launch myself into his arms and pay him back for how flustered he made me against the side of his truck.
In his living room, I sit on his overstuffed couch with my legs pulled under me, and I bite my thumbnail between my teeth. With my decision made, there's just one big detail to take care of.
Danica.
I'm supposed to meet her at our place in a few hours so we can carpool to her parents' house for Thanksgiving dinner. It was her idea, not mine, and I frown as I think about how nice she's been recently. It started with her taking me on that shopping trip, and then it became me helping her with her homework; her excitedly asking me about my smoke-and-mirrors boyfriend; us watching TV together on the same couch. When we've talked about boys, I've pretended that her Mike wasn't my Mike, and I've ignored the guilt that knocked against my stomach with every little lie I've had to tell.
I haven't worried about Mike wanting her back, since he's made it very clear that will never happen-with me or without me-but that hasn't stopped Danica from trying. She's changed her phone number at least three times since he keeps blocking her, and she has all sorts of grand plans for when he comes home from his tour. I've listened helplessly as she's shared them with me-how she plans to bake him his favorite cookies; how she's going to give him a scrapbook of pictures of them in high school; how she plans to be in the front row of his next show at Mayhem, wearing the lowest cut top I've ever seen in my life.
In a way, I feel sorry for her. She lost the best man she ever could have had, and even though she already regrets it, one day she is going to regret it to her core. I don't think she truly loves Mike-not like I love him-but one day she is going to realize that he loved her, and she's going to know that it's her fault she lost him.