Michael was there waiting for me at the airport when I walked through the terminal. It was hard to leave Monica, but I needed to find out some things for myself.
Michael was dressed for work: black slacks, white shirt, sans tie and black suit coat. As usual, he was devastatingly handsome, and my heart skipped a beat when I saw him. He was tanned, and I wondered where he found the time since he said he worked so late. He smiled and waved me over, and when I walked up to him, I had visions of jumping into his arms and being swirled around. But no such thing. He simply pecked me on the cheek and said, "Let's get your baggage."
Baggage? I would have preferred the word luggage. But I was still on defense, and he didn't have a clue.
We grabbed my bag and headed out of the airport. Michael's rental car was parked not far, and we pulled from the parking lot. He hadn't said much of anything in the last five minutes we've been together. "You like nice, Michael. Is that a new suit?" Recalling his shopping sprees.
"Yes, I've picked up a few new suits. Oh, we'll be staying at Hyatt. I've got us a room for your time here."
"Oh? We can't stay at this…pilot hotel?"
"No. Even though we're married, it's for employees and pilots only. Sorry. But, this will be more private for us. No bumping into work collogues." I wanted to see who his collogues were.
I've taken the rest of the day off so we can spend some time together. Is there anything particular you want to do?" See what you've been hiding for six months.
I reached over and kissed his cheek. "Just be with you. Why don't you show me some of the sights and neighbors?" And talk about putting our house on the market.
"All right. First, let get your baggage put away and I'll drive you around." Baggage.
After we dropped off my luggage, Michael took me to a small court where food trucks were lined up. I found an odd place for him to suggest lunch when I saw all the exotic dinner places on the credits cards. I wanted to ask but knew Michael would only give me a suitable excuse, and I wanted to appear to be here on true intentions. But Michael had no idea of my true intentions.
The view through the valley was quite picturesque with the snowcapped mountains and green hills as we sat on a picnic table enjoying our deli sandwiches. I noticed Michael was wearing a new watch. One I hadn't seen when he was back home a few weeks ago. I thought now would be a good time to ask about the jewelry purchase.
"Michael, is that a new watch?"
He looked at his wrist and then back to me. "Yes, my old one broke."
Sounds reasonable. "Did you just get it?"
"Yes. My old one broke on the plane coming back."
"Where'd you get it?"
He looked at me painstakingly. "Oh, I don't know. I can't remember."
He couldn't remember where he bought a watch two weeks ago. "I saw a purchase in our account from a Bowers Jewelry store. Would it be from there?" His face turned ghostly, and then he acted as if a light was turned on.
"Yes, that's where I brought in," he said. But the purchase was from two months ago. But I didn't want him to know I was fishing.
"I like it. I would like to buy my father one. His birthday is coming up. I think he would like a nicer watch. Could you take me there while I'm here?"
"Sure, no problem," he said while wiping his mouth with a napkin. As he chewed, he stared at me, and I was afraid he was reading my suspicious mind. I needed to play it cool. I planned to find anything out. So, I keep the conversation at a level of reason.
"Michael, it's gorgeous here. I think I would like it. Maybe while you're working, I could look at a few houses? And…do you think it's time to put the house on the market? You never know how long it will take to sell."
"What about Tammy and your family? I wouldn't think you would want to leave them."
"Michael, you're my husband. I need to be with you. Monica needs to be with her father. Tammy and my family will come to visit. Why can't we put the house up for sale?"
He took a deep breath and appeared bothered. "I don't really want to sell it. I haven't been here a full year. I still only have my foot in the door. I need to make sure."
"Well, we could always just buy another house if we want to come back."
"And…be stuck with another house here."
He was stubborn, and I was not backing down on this one. "What if we rent our house out and rent here?" His eyebrow quirk at the thought.
"Yes, that's a maybe. We'll see." Finally, I had some movement where the house was concerned. But what about Monica and me?
We left, and I told him I wanted to see his place of work. I wanted to meet his co-workers and see his office. "But, I thought you wanted to look at houses?" he asked. He was back peddling, and there was a reason he didn't want me at his work.
"So, you want to check out some houses? Rent or buy?" He studied me as he drove, and his eyes went back to the road. "Michael, is there a reason you don't want me to see where you work?"
"Of course not, Jill. It's just…I've taken the day off. So, why would I want to go back? I'm here with you. Maybe before you go back." I watched his expression as he drove. Not once had he asked how I had been or how his daughter was.
The hotel had a hot tub, and I suggested we grab a few drinks and check it out. I brought a new bikini and some sexy lingerie and kept my hands all over him as much as I could. He seemed skittish, and I wanted to question him about it. Michael never lacked in the not-wanting-sex department, and I had to wonder why now. But now wasn't the time. I had my plans and must play it down.
I came out of the bathroom with the new bikini, turned around and shook my ass at him. "What you think?" I was relieved when his brow quirk and a smile formed on his lips.
"Nice," he said with a sexy, interesting voice. "Wow, sometimes I forget what a beautiful body you have." A chorus of angels filled my heart with song, and I felt that doubt shifting. Maybe it was my paranoia that only made things seemed suspicious. But in a few days, I would know the truth.
After the hot tub and a few martinis, Michael made love to me. And it was different, passionate. Not his usual fuck hard and talk dirty. He seemed…scared, unsure and maybe it was the long distant relationship finally taking a toll on his emotions. He kissed me hard, and I couldn't remember the last time Michael kissed me during sex. It was almost a goodbye like we would never see each other again. It was the first time Michael had showed a real passion for me… and it scared me to death.
It was my last day in Seattle, and I told Michael I had a taxi taking me to the airport and for him to go onto work. It was an early flight. "Are you sure?" he asked.
"Yes, it's fine. I hate long goodbyes. You'll be home soon, right?"
"Yes." But his look told me different. But soon, I would find out why. Because I wasn't going back to Michigan. I had booked the last two days in another hotel. This was my plan. To make him think I was only here for five days when I was here for seven.
Instead of having the taxi take me to the airport or the hotel, I told him to drop me off at Avis where I had reserved a rental car. After claiming my rental, I checked in at my hotel. I paced the room, waiting on five o'clock. The time Michael got off work. He drove me by Boeing, so I knew where it was. But he never gave me a tour.
At five o'clock, I was in position—parked two cars away from Michael's car. I watched him walk out of the building and to his car. I was expecting him to come out with another woman. But to my surprise, he was alone, and I prayed my intuitions were wrong. And Michael would never know that I mistrusted him and spied.
His car pulled out, and I stayed close behind, hoping he wouldn't see me in the car. He showed me the hotel where the pilots stayed, but again, never took me there. I thought this would be the route he would take. But he didn't, and twenty minutes later, we pulled into a housing estate with big, gorgeous homes. What the fuck? Why would he be coming here? But deep down, I knew why.
I was close behind him now, and he turned into a driveway. I watched the garage door open.
There was no other car inside, yet he pulled in to leave room for another. Who would be coming?
I drove past and turned around in the cul-de-sac at the end of the street. I slowed next to the curb when I reached the house and put the car in park. My hands were wet with sweat, and I was shaking all over. I needed to go in that house.
Glancing in the mirror, I checked my appearance, and I saw the frightened look in my eyes and then exited the car. My legs felt like jelly as I walked to the door. I was about to ring the doorbell when I saw Michael walking through the house from the sidelight window. I check the door, but it was locked. Peering through the window, I could see the patio door was open to the backyard, and I slowly walked around. Michael was nowhere around, so I padded in and looked around. What was this place? Had he already purchased a home and didn't want his family with him?
I looked around for a place to hide. I wanted to witness with my own eyes what I knew would kill me and saw a coat closet next to the entry door. Michael must have been in the shower because I could hear water running from the bedroom. I padded quietly to the door and snuck inside. I was also grateful that the door was louvered and not paneled. I could see everything from the inside. I had a front-row seat if this show was to be taking place in the living area. But the floor plan was open to the kitchen and most of the downstairs. And…completely palatial. How could Michael afford this place while still making the mortgage back home? I would soon find out why when the utility door from the garage opened into the kitchen. In walked a woman—fortyish, professional and…pretty.
She dropped her designer purse on the counter and bent down to remove her three-hundred-dollars Louboutin's. "Michael? I'm home, Babe," she yelled. My heart was thumping so loud. I knew for sure she could hear it. I was hyperventilating, and no matter how much I prepared for this moment, my blood was pumping iron. The thrashing sound through my ears sounded like waterfalls, and I was afraid I would go death and not hear what I needed to hear.
Michael came down the stairs—showered, wet hair and wearing only three-hundred-dollar designer jeans. "There you are, Babe," she said and pulled him to her, tugging on the inside of his jeans. "God, I love the way you look in these. Could you pour me a glass of wine? I'm going to shower." She kissed his lips and then licked down to his naked navel.
"Red?" Michael asked.
"Yes. And…did you tell her?" Michael turned to get the wine, and she demanded. "Oh, God, Babe. Please tell me you told her so we can get on with this."
This?
"Okay, not yet. But, I told her not to sell the house. I'm still waiting on to cash in my stock to pay it off."
He had enough stock to pay off our house? But why did he want to pay it off?
"She'll be well taken care of, Michael. My, God. Just get it over with. Daddy said he would represent you, pro bono. It will be the easiest divorce ever. I mean, what can she argue about? She'll have a home that is paid for. Child support sent monthly, and…you can use her college debt you paid as leverage."
My God, I was just a case to them. How long had they been setting up my fate?
"Cami, we were married when I paid for her college. And most of it was covered through my tuition reimbursement from Whirlpool. She doesn't owe me a thing."
I stepped out of the closet and walked to where they were standing. "Hello, Michael." I turned to the woman who considered me a case. "Cami."
"How'd the fuck did she get in here?" she yelled.
"Jill? What are you doing here? I thought you went home?"
I smirked, forcing myself not to cry. "Well, I guess we were all wrong. And by the way, Michael, we are stilled married. But it looks as if you've forgotten." I looked at Cami and saw a necklace around her neck. "Did Michael by you that necklace at Bowers?"
Her hand went to the necklace as her fingers smoothed the pendant laying on her throat. I wanted to rip it off and stab her in that soft hollow spot, the way I learned in self-defense. Michael never bought me jewelry. Not even a wedding ring.
"Yes, he did."
I looked back at Michael. I hoped he recognized all the hurt and betrayal he had caused me all these years. What was so special about this woman?
"Well, enjoy it. I guess I paid for half of it." I turned to leave and walked toward the front door. It was still locked, and I struggled to with the handle. Turning the lock one way and then the other, I still couldn't get the damn door open, and I slapped the wood. Michael's hand appeared above mine.
"I need to put in the code." That was it? The code? He flipped a panel next to the door, and after four beeps, I heard the door click. I opened the door and ran to the car. Michael chased after me. "Jill, you're too upset to drive. Let me call you a cab."
This was insane. But then again, it wasn't, knowing Michael. "Oh, now you finally care about my well-being? What about my heart, Michael? What about our marriage?"
"Just let her go, Michael," I heard Cami yell from the front door. "She finally knows now. It's over."
I open the door to the car and fell in. Michael held the door open and spoke his last words. "I'll be home soon, and we'll sort this out." I looked up at him, incredulously. "The divorce."
"Looks like you two have it all sorted out." He stood back, and I slammed the door. I started the car, and even though I have no memory of driving back to the hotel, I was parked in front of the building. I ran through the doors, pressed the button for the third floor—five times, dying for it to open. I needed Tammy. I needed her with me right now.
Struggling with the damn keycard, because I was inserting it in backwards, I finally unlocked the door and ran to the phone.
"Hello? Jill?"
"Tammy," I cried. "I need you."
Now
Today is Monica's ultrasound, and Michael and I are both here, along with Jordan. She's six months, almost seven. Although we are dying to know what the baby is, today will not be the day. She has planned to have a gender reveal party. And guess who is making all the arrangements and will know the sex today—Michael. The transformation is endless, and I'm slowing learning to breathe a bit more comfortably.
We all watch in anticipation as the nurse spreads the jelly and moves the sonogram along Monica's swollen belly. As soon as the head and little hands appear, we all sigh. Tears come to my eyes, and I feel Michael squeeze my hand. I look up, and he embraces me in his arms. "I wish I was with you the day you had the sonogram. I missed so much," Michael says and kisses my forehead.
"I wish you were there too. But, this is the future you spoke of, and we're all here now."
Holding Monica's hand, I look at how my baby has grown and now looking at her baby. Jordan makes comments that he just knows it's a boy. Even though these sonograms have come a long way, I still can't tell the sex. But just to be sure, Monica has had an NIPT to check for any chromosomal conditions.
"This is unbelievable. Look at my precious baby. I can't even express how much I already love this baby," Monica says, admiring the screen. "Does everything look okay? Is my baby healthy?"
"Everything appears normal," the tech tells her. "But your GP will read the final results." She looks through Monica's file and smiles. "Your NIPT came back normal negative. And who am I to give this to?" she asked, writing the baby's sex down.
"Me, the grandfather," Michael says proudly, holding out his hand.
She folds the paper up and hands it to him. Michael takes the piece of paper and shoves it down into his pocket. "Well, you're not going to look at it right here?" Monica begs.
"Oh, no, Sweetheart. I don't want you to read into my facial expressions. But yes, I'm dying to know."
"You do have the Pinterest board I shared with you?"
"Yes, but I thought I was planning it?"
"You are, Dad. I'm…just giving you suggestions."
"Okay, everything is good. You are free to go," the tech says, wiping the gel from Monica's tummy.
Jordan helps Monica off the table, and Michael suggests taking us all out for lunch. "Since
we all took the day off, I know of a great place to have lunch. And don't even think I'm going to look or show you the piece of paper tucked safely away in my pocket."
Another perfect day. Another perfect Michael. Breathe. Days have been spent with love notes placed around the house. Love texts whenever we're not together. Songs dedicated to me on social media. It must all be real because everyone tells me the gorgeous glow that surrounds my smile. I feel I'm seventeen again and ported back in time when I first met Michael. But even this Michael is more attentive than the Michael after I became pregnant. In this life, I feel I'm the reserved one and waiting for the bottom to fall out. At times, I want to ask what happened with Cami and what made him want me back. But each time I do, something inside me tells me to just accept it and not argue with a good thing. Maybe someday I will know.
Walking into the kitchen as Michael pours our morning coffee, I look up to the whiteboard stuck to the fridge, where each day a love message is written. But today, it's a little different. Captioned above his message is the word jeopardy. He smiles at me when I take my coffee.
"That is the answer, and you must guess the correct question," Michael says.
"Oh, so now it's a game?"
"Yep. And you must answer in the form of who is or what is."
"Hmm. I've never been good at Jeopardy."
"Well, I'll give you a hint. The who is, is always about you. That should narrow it down."
Taking a sip of my coffee, I read the answer. So, fucking beautiful. "Well, if the who is always me, then the answer is: Who is Jill Danforth?"
"Well, that's a given. But this has to do with time."
"Time?"
"Yes."
Grrr. "This is kind of hard, but kind of simple. When Michael sees me dressed up? Now. You have never complimented me in the past."
His eyes blink with a hint of sadness. "True, and I'm so sorry. But, let's change this to things I was thinking but never said."
Love, Michael: A second chance romance Page 29