It's Not About You (13 page)

He laughed as he joined me at the fireplace. His feet were bare and sank into the carpet just like my sneakers did. "There should be a little. We're fraternal twins." He took the picture and looked at it for a few seconds. His expression worried me a his smile slipped away and a crease appeared between his brows. "She's with a guy I can't stand. A real asshole. So I don't get to see her much." He put the picture back on the mantel. "In fact, I haven't seen her in over a year."
 

"Is he the reason you haven't seen each other?"
 

"Mostly. He's abusive and she won't see it."
 

"Physical?"

"No. Verbal. Passive Aggressive. I never thought of that as abuse before I saw my sister lose herself to it. But it is. I have a psychiatrist friend who told me that kind of abuse is the most common, and that's why we don't tend to see it. Where one in the relationship enjoys dominating the other by a constant barrage of complaints and well placed sentences to make the partner feel all their troubles and woes are their fault." He continued to stare at the picture. "If he ever touches her, or I find out he has, I'll kill him with my bare hands."
 

Getting to know Michael had it's surprising points. And this was one of them. I saw passion in his eyes, and a fierce devotion to his sister. But the fact they hadn't spoken was also a sign of how he respected her choices. "You are a complicated man, Michael Oliver."
 

"No." He moved that gaze to me and his expression shifted. "I'm just a brother who misses his sister. So," he said as he clapped his hands together. "You ready? I don't know what we're gonna do and I don't care as long as we're together for the day."
 

I thought my face would crack at the size of my grin. No one…
no one
had ever told me that before. Especially not my ex.
 

I followed him out of the bedroom and back down to the foyer. He grabbed the other set of keys. "I'm going to drive."
 

"Drive?" He moved back down the hall to a door and unlocked it. "I thought you said you didn't have a car." It wasn't an odd thing, not when someone lived in the area he did where MARTA had trains and busses everywhere.
 

"I don't." Michael pushed the door open. The smell of oil and gas, amid other garage smells I remembered from my childhood, greeted me as the lights came on.
 

A motorcycle took up the center of the empty garage. The chrome along its front and sides gleamed under the fluorescent light above.
 

"I have a bike."
 

"No shit. This is what you were driving to the coffee shop?"

"Yep. I drive it everywhere." He approached it and put his hand on the seat. "Harley Davison Superlow 1200T. It's got the frame of a Sportster but all the advantages of a touring bike."
 

It was the most beautiful thing I'd seen in a while. I'd always loved motorcycles, but I'd never dared to ride one. Ever. Or get this close to one.
 

"Zip your jacket up and put this on." He handed me a black helmet.
 

I took it and my eyes bugged out. "You want me to ride with you?"
 

"Well, yeah."
 

"I've never been on a motorcycle."
 

He offered me a gloved a hand. "Then I'm happy to be your first, Grace Murphy."

After Sunday he spent every night at our house during the first week. He helped with dinner and dishes, spent time with Kyle going over work stuff, and then he and I made love every night. Sometimes in the shower, sometimes in the bed, on the floor, in the kitchen…that was a chancy bit there, since Kyle was bound to come home and catch us.
 

Late evenings were spent with just us, or if Kyle was free, outside on the deck, enjoying wine and the heater and blankets. The colder nights brought in the feeling of Fall. We got to know Michael and he and Kyle started this really weird bro-mance.
 

At the end of that week Kyle gave me his approval for a deeper relationship.
 

"Just keep him naked. Or at least shirtless."
 

I couldn't remember ever being so happy. Except for the birth of my daughter, but even that was marred by the actions of my ex in the hospital.
 

Yeah…even during the happiest time of our lives he made an ass of himself. To me, to the hospital staff. Even when the doctor told him to cool it and pay attention to his wife who was crying with embarrassment at his behavior, he argued with her. He basically told her she was a quack.
 

They were all quacks.

Why?
 

Because our daughter had been born with a collapsed lung and the nurses and doctors were taking extra special care of her and I had a fever that wasn't breaking.
 

But you see…it was all about him.
He
wanted his child in the room with us, not in the NICU. And they had no right to keep him from what was
his
.
 

Just thinking about that day made me mad. He was, and would always be, a narcissistic asshole. There was nothing anyone could do about it. I just hated the fact it took me so long to figure out…that it wasn't me.
 

Luckily the Prick hadn't called and made threats about Thanksgiving all week.

All last week and continuing on this week Michael came by the
Trade In Beans
every morning for his coffee as long as I was there, which was five days last week and four this week. October was a great month for us with the weather getting colder and more people wanting hot beverages.
 

I would hear the sound of his Harley and my stomach would flutter. In the middle of the week he leaned over the counter and kissed me, which of course set off a huge tackle-the-manager session after morning rush. The morning staff had changed that week as George moved the more experienced workers to other locations, so the only worker who wasn't that happy for me was Mary. She wanted to stay at this location and I sort of wondered if Michael's constant presence had been why.
 

Mary's real self reared its ugly head that Wednesday, just before my shift ended. It was October the 28
th
, Tuesday, and the wind had built up some speed outside. Leaves flipped and fluttered past the windows as the late afternoon turned a little darker than usual. Storm was coming.
 

The back office makes an L shape. Employees walk in past the cabinets of supplies, like toilet paper, napkins, huge containers of sugar, cinnamon and nutmeg then past the desk where the computer is and I run reports. The room takes a sharp right to where there are lockers set up for employee purses, shoes, clothing, whatever they need and each employee had a locker assigned. Having their own personal space was just something George liked doing for his staff.
 

I had rounded that sharp right and was taking off my apron and pen when I heard Mary's voice in the room. And she was mad and talking to someone on her phone. I guessed this because I couldn't hear the other side of the conversation, and talking on her phone during work hours was against the rules.
 

"…sort of sick! I know! He's like in his twenties and she's old and decrepit. And get this…he actually kissed her this morning….no they all cheered…….there's gotta be a way to get her out of here. I mean…I was here before George hired her and ever since Sam left she's been nothing but mean to me….I don't know…some guy she was dating beat her up. She probably deserved it…oh my God he's here again…and he's on a motorcycle!"
 

I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. Well, not really cry. She hurt my feelings but honestly over the years I'd had with the Prick, I always considered the source when it came to things like that. Really? Get rid of me because a guy she was crushing on apparently said no?
 

What this did was alert me to a possible problem and something I needed to talk to George about. And quick.
 

I grabbed my jacket and changed my shoes before I clocked out and moved past a very shocked Mary at the door of the office. Yeah, she'd just realized I was in that room while she was dissing me.
 

Dissing…I used the word dissing!
 

I spotted Michael's bike through the window, parked just out front. He walked in wearing his leathers, the suit he wore to work wouldn't survive the drive without those sexy leathers. He had the spare helmet in his hand and shades on. He was raking his fingers through his hair when he spotted me and the smile under those shades lit up the whole room.
 

"You ready?"

I nodded and took the offered helmet just before he leaned down and kissed me. Right there. In the front of the shop.
 

Cheers again from the staff, except for Mary. I could feel her glare on my back, burning through my jacket.
 

"So what are we doing today?" I asked as he mounted the bike and then I jumped on behind him. That first ride last Sunday had been the scariest day of my life, but after moving around for the afternoon like that—it started feeling natural, and my car was what felt confined.
 

Me. On a motorcycle. At my age!

"Grocery store. I want to cook tonight at my place."
 

"I'll have to go by my place to get clothes."
 

"Sounds good." He pulled his helmet on, checked the two-way in the helmet so we could hear each other, then started the motorcycle.
 

The closest grocery was Kroger in the same shopping center as the
Trade In Beans
. He drove the bike further into the center and pulled it into a parking space up front and shut it off. The man had some serious Park-Fu. Always found good parking.
 

"We could have just walked here," I said as I removed the helmet and locked it on the back guard.
 

"Yeah." Michael locked his own helmet down and removed his gloves before he took my hand and lead me through the automatic doors. "But I wanted to impress your employees. Saw Mary making death eyes."
 

He picked up a basket and steered me to the vegetables. "Mary's still pissed I wouldn't get in the bed with her. She was so upset when learning to use a FrenchPress wasn't innuendo for screwing like bunnies."
 

He picked up red potatoes, some green beans and I grabbed almonds. Good choice with the beans. We skipped over to the butcher and he ordered up two large steaks, porterhouse, and I suggested mushrooms. He agreed and told me to meet him at the bakery as I went back to the produce.
 

While looking at the boxes of prepackaged fungus someone touched me on the shoulder. Still guarded with the fear Burt was going to show up at some point, I turned fast and surprised Gerald Almondrode.
 

Shit!
 

"Grace…are you all right? I didn't mean to startle you like that."
 

"Oh…yeah. I'm fine. It's nice to see you Gerald. What brings you here?"
 

"Oh," he said as he put his hands on his wide hips. "Just picking up some things for dinner. Say…you're looking at mushrooms. Are you planning on cooking one of your incredible meals tonight?"
 

Uh…crap! I didn't know what to say. If I didn't get to the bakery, I knew Michael would come looking for me and if Gerald saw us here together, he might make assumptions. Assumptions that would be right but not that we wanted him to make! "Yeah. It's more of an experiment. Had a class on searing last week and wanted to give it a try."
 

"And the mushrooms. I do love good mushrooms if they're cooked right."
 

I glanced at his stomach.
Yeah I bet you do
. "Yeah. Mushrooms are good." My phone beeped and I fished it out of my pocket. It was Michael, asking where I was. "Just a sec, Gerald. It's my mom." I quickly texted back that his boss was in the veggie department with me and he texted back a groan.
 

"Everything okay?"
 

I lowered the phone. "Yeah, I just need to get these things and head home."
 

"Dinner for Kyle?"
 

"Well, hey there, Mr. Almondrode!"
 

I gave Michael a serious WHAT ARE YOU DOING look as he came up. He and Gerald shook hands. "Well, hello Michael. When you said you needed to leave early, I didn't know it was shopping." He looked at me and then at the basket and his expression went blank.

"Yeah," Michael said before he leaned in close. "I convinced Grace to show me how to cook like she and Kyle do. I figure, if I can make dishes like the one we had that Saturday, I'm pretty sure I could make an impression on a woman."
 

To my relief Gerald's face lit up and he clapped his hands together. "Yes you could. And that's a great idea. So you're both heading to Grace and Kyle's house?"