I reread the answer. "So, fucking beautiful. Um…the Christmas party at the Whirlpool mansion. I mean, how did Jill look at the Christmas party?"
"Wrong, but right. You were drop-dead gorgeous that night. But here is the correct question to that answer. "When I first saw you sleeping in your brother's car. So fucking beautiful."
"Oh, Michael. You really thought that? I was so embarrassed. I thought had drool running down my chin."
"I wish I would have told you," he says and kisses me sweetly on the lips. "I wish I would have told you a lot of things."
I smile up into eyes so full of love, desire, and regrets. "I love you, Michael. Even when I thought I hated you. I loved you."
"I will always love you, Jill, and still regret the twenty years I wasted when I could have been with you. Because there's so much I want to do with you. And tonight is one of them.”
"Oh, yeah? And what are we doing tonight?" I ask, reaching up on my tiptoes and kissing his lips.
"Karaoke."
"What? There is no way I'm getting up and singing. No way. No how."
"Not you. Me."
"Oh." I cock a brow and cover his cheeks in my hands. I'm reminded of our first kiss. The abrasion of his beard and how it felt so manly. So grown up. "Really, who are you?" I tease.
"The man who will love you for the rest of his life."
We head out to the patio to have our coffee and see Alan and Tyler working in their gardens. I wave when Alan looks up and for once, feel as happy as they have always seemed to be. "Your garden is gorgeous as always," I holler over.
"We have tomatoes ready. I'll bring so over it a bit."
"Oh, that sounds wonderful. Thank you."
Michael smiles and then takes a sip of his coffee. "I got lucky your neighbors are gay. Or else, they would have been hitting on you. But, this time, I was willing to fight my competition."
"Competition? What are you talking about?"
"Drake. And I'm not talking about the night at the coffee house when you were in college." This time, he winks at me and takes another sip. How does he know about Drake? It was so many years ago. I don't have Facebook, so how would he know?
"How do you know about Drake?"
"I saw you two together. I saw you…happy. And though I intended to get you back, I didn't want to cause you any more problems."
Oh, my God. I don't believe this. I move away from his stare and look over at Alan and Tyler in their garden and sip my coffee. "Yes, we were…happy," I say quietly.
"What happened?"
Is this the part where he asks me, and then I ask him about Cami? Do I want to know about and relive the worst moment in my life? But, he is asking.
"Me. I was what happened," I confess and hide my shame inside the coffee cup, taking a sip. "I…freaked out and called it off." Wow, confessing out loud still isn't comforting. "I was still in my dark years, unwilling to let go of the past, and…I don't know. I just felt I couldn't trust someone. It was wrong, and he didn't deserve it.” I feel his gaze on me, and I don't know what he's thinking. Does he think I'll do the same to him…to even the score?
"I see."
"Michael, if you think I'll do the same to you, I won't. I promise. I mean, yeah at first the thought was there…in the far back of my mind. But as I saw the change in you, I started to trust again. I love you, Michael. I do." I pause. "It was a few years after you left. He asked me to marry him—surprising me with a ring and the whole entourage in front of a crowd. What every girl dreams, right?" He presses his lips with shame I can tell. "Right there in front of the restaurant, he got down on one knee and said those words. ‘Jill, will you marry me?’ I was elated and said yes right away. Once he slipped the ring on my finger, it was what he said next, once the clapping and cheering were over. He held my hands from across the table and looked into my eyes and said…something that changed every way I felt about him. Everything inside me changed, and I felt once again as if I was a second-class citizen. But, maybe I jumped the gun and missed out. I should have talked more about it with him. Instead, I handed the ring back later that night and told him goodbye. He was hurt, and I never gave him an explanation. But look, it worked out for the best." Should I ask about Cami? "Michael…what happened after I left? What happened to you and Cami?"
Taking a deep breath, he sets his cup down and searches the sky for words. A few seconds go by before he begins.
"You always think the grass is greener on the other side and I know that sounds cliché. But here is what you learn about that other grass. It still has to be watered and mowed. And some grass becomes…too high maintenance and you find yourself missing the grass you used to have. The grass that only wanted to love you, adore you and just simply…you."
Am I that grass?
"I went on, thinking I found love at first sight—many times. I feared to be irrelevant to someone that I never let anyone attach to my heart. The problem with youth is it's your penis falling in love at first sight. Then…when you finally figure it out what true love is, it's left the building. And you find yourself sitting across the room watching the love of your life being proposed to. The ship has sailed, and you're only a bad memory to them."
"You were there?"
"Yes, and I got what I deserved that night."
"Oh, my God. I had no idea."
"But to answer your question about Cami, in the end, we…just became friends and business partners."
"Do…do you still keep in touch with her?"
"Yes, I do. But it is strictly business. Please, don't ever worry."
How can I not?
Michael tells me to wear jeans and a tight T-shirt for tonight's date. He still hasn't told me where we're going, but I have a feeling it's not a place I would typically go—or he for that matter. He is dressed in tight jeans, cowboy boots, and a tight black T-shirt. He so reminds me of the young Michael in those jeans. And…he's put on a few pounds since we've been together. But only in the right places.
I laugh. "Oh, my God. Howdy partner. Michael, you've never been country. And I haven't listened to country since high school. Are we really doing this?"
He walks over and scoops me up in his arms. "You bet, Gorgeous. Once the baby comes, our date nights might become limited."
"Yeah, but this is Monica and Jordan's baby."
"I know. But I want to make up for not being the father I should have been. I want my grandchild to know how special they are to me."
My insides burst with love when he talks like this. "Speaking of grandchild…"
"Oh no you don't. My lips are sealed. You'll just have to wait." Still, in his arms, he rolls me forward and gives me another big kiss. "You ready?"
"As ever."
Twenty minutes later, we pull into the parking lot of Diamond and Denims, a country bar I've passed by several times but never went in. Never had a reason to. But looking over at the handsome man in the driver's seat, I sure do now. He's so gorgeous and loving, and thoughtful and I'm so afraid I don't give him enough credit.
"Michael, if I don't say it enough, I want you to know how happy I am because of you."
"Thank you. I have another Jeopardy answer for you."
I laugh. "Okay, hit me."
"Blondes are the prettiest."
"Oh, how easy. What was the caption on a T-shirt you bought me in high school?"
"Hehe," he says, sounding like a buzzer.
"No, I'm right."
"Correction. What was an excuse for Michael to come to see Jill?"
"Ahh. Really?"
He holds up two fingers. "Scout’s honor. And how lucky I got, that Scott was gone, and you were washing your car in those tight, little jean shorts. I even remember the song that was playing on your car stereo."
"Really? Because I don't."
He places his finger under my chin and looks into my eyes. "This Kiss," he says and gently lays his lips on mine. "Maybe you'll sing it to me tonight."
"Ahh, no."
Stepping i
nside, it's what I expected and the last place I would expect Michael to be. And I tease him about it. "Okay, Mr. West Coast. What barrel shall we sit on?"
"The one closest to the stage."
We settle in on a high wooden whiskey barrel used as a table and slide our barstools in. The place is genuine country, with bowls of peanuts and shells all over the floor. The waitresses are dressed in denim shorts and shirts tied at the waist. And of course, country music playing—loud.
Michael orders us a couple of drinks—him a beer, me a diet and captain. "You still don't drink beer?" Michael asks
"No, it never appealed to me."
Our drinks are served, and Michael asks for the karaoke list to put his name on. He's really serious. The only time I recall him singing was when I delivered him a pizza twenty years ago, and he sang to “You’re Still the One” by Shania Twain as we danced.
He smiles over at me and hands the list back. There's a cheeky grin on his lips and a twinkle in his eye. "What did you pick to sing?"
"It's a surprise," he says and holds his beer for a toast.
A few singers go by, and Michael is called to the stage. I'm really nervous—and I'm not the one singing.
"Hello everyone. My name is Michael Danforth, and that stunning lady over there is my wife. Isn't she a knockout?" The crowd whoops and whistles and my face flushes. "Can you believe she is about to become a grandmother?"
"No way," I hear someone in the crowd say.
"Tonight," Michael continues, "I want to sing a song to my beautiful wife. I'm not much of a country person, but I heard this song once, and it hit my heart hard. And I said to myself, if I ever get the chance to sing this to her, I would. So, here goes."
The music starts, and I'm not sure if I know this song. But then someone hollers, "I love Blake Shelton, and I love this song."
Michael begins to sing, Mine Would Be You, and I've never heard something sound so full of love and regret at the same time. His eyes never leave mine with each word, and then he comes and takes me to the stage. On one knee, he sings the last chorus.
What's the greatest chapter in your book?
Are there pages where it hurts to look?
What's the one regret you can't work through?
You got it, baby, mine would be you.
He finishes the song, and with tears in my eyes the shakiness of my hands, he kisses me on stage and everyone in the bar claps. Slowly by slowly, I begin to breathe again.
Then
You would think two years would have been enough time for me not to think about Michael and that horrible day when I found him with Cami. But more importantly, you would think I should be glad he's gone. And no more worries of distrust and betrayal. But here's the thing about suspicion and betrayal. There's only one victim, and while one goes onto the next victim, the victim sees everyone as their future distrust and betrayal.
Monica and I decided to add a puppy to our two-person family—mostly her. She was five now and had started kindergarten. Michael was now a total void in her life. Once he came back and settled the divorce, we never saw him again. The puppy was more of a guilt present, but when I saw its sweet, little face in the window at the mall pet store, I couldn't resist.
Monica would ask about her father every now and then, and at school, she had met little friends who had visitation with their fathers. She even asked me once if it was true that some moms and dads live together. I then realized she hadn't much of a memory of Michael. And maybe that was a good thing. But then she would ask why she didn't have visitation with her father—like her little friends. I didn't have an answer for her—and…we bought a puppy because of it.
Financially, we were fine. That was the one thing Michael did set up for us. I'll never forget that day he walked through the door. I thought for sure he'd changed his mind. I stared at him with such loss in my eyes—and a part of me thinks he had the same look in his. And damn it, I should have been glad it was over. But that didn't mean it hurt any less.
"Jill," he whispered after standing in the doorway for ten minutes. "I'm sorry you had to see us. That's not how I planned it," he said.
"Planned it! Who plans a divorce, Michael? How long had it been going on?"
"That's not important, Jill."
"Oh, I know. I've never been important to you. I've never been a priority to you."
"That's not true. I've stayed with you longer than I planned."
"Oh, my God, Michael. Just shut the fuck up." He pressed his lips, placed his hands on his hips and looked around the house.
"The house is yours. I cashed in my Whirlpool shares and paid it off. So, don't plan on taking half my pension or retirement. I'm giving you the house, free and clear."
"That's right, Michael. Just throw money on it. Make us go away. That's where half your paycheck was going, wasn't it? On your new place…with her."
"Jill, I've never wavered from my responsibilities here with you."
"You've been fucking around, Michael. So, I say, you have."
"Financial responsibilities," he corrected me.
"Just because you pay the bills, Michael is not a free card to cheat. And don't you forget. I, too, contribute to this household."
"And let's remember who paid for your education."
"Stop it. I'm tired of this being nothing but a business arrangement between us. I'm your wife, Michael. Not a contract you signed."
"Jill, you had to know it was coming. I had to end it now, especially with all your having another baby talk. That's when I knew it had to end. So, you kind of brought this on yourself."
My jaw dropped. He was unbelievable. "Then why didn't you just tell me you didn't want to have another baby? You said let's see what Seattle brings. Well, I guess that settles it. Seattle brought you Cami and me…nothing."
"That's not true, Jill. This house is yours, paid in full. I've set the support for Monica to be automatically deposited into your account. I even had it set above the standard. You should be just fine."
"And my heart?"
He looked around and then back to me. "Jill, I can't do this anymore." This. Monica and I were a…this. So, what was Cami? The one? I wanted to scream. I wanted to scratch his eyes out and then tell him I loved him. But how do you tell someone you love them when you shouldn't? And so…I didn't. I just stared at him; tears dripped down my cheeks.
He walked to the bedroom, packed the last of his stuff and before he walked out the door, he said, "Take care, Jill." That was it. No…goodbye. No, I will miss you. No, I love you. And deep down, I knew he never did.
I watch his car from the window until it disappeared down the street. And my stupid, stupid heart thought he would turn around and change his mind. My eyes began to burn because I was afraid to blink. I think it was getting dark when I finally called Tammy, who stayed with me all night and let me cry myself to sleep.
We named the new puppy Molly, and I had her scheduled to get her at a veterinary office that came highly recommended. Since I never had a dog before, I didn't know of a good one. I was shocked when we walked in and saw Drake walking out one of the rooms in a white lab coat. After the coffee house incident, he left the community college, and I never knew what happened to him.
"Oh, my God. Drake?"
"Jill? Look at you," he said and set down the clipboard he was holding as he reached out for me. "Wait, is Michael going to come storming in?" he laughed.
"No. We're divorced," I said, hoping I sounded sad.
"Oh. Well, sorry to hear that. But then again, I'm not."
My face blushed and I forgot about the puppy in my arms and Monica at my side. "So, you became a vet. Wow."
"Yes, took another few years. But hey, time goes by whether we're in school or not. Right?"
"Ah…yeah. It sure does." Another moment of perfect silence when he finally spoke again.
"So, what you have here?"
"This is Molly," I said, holding up the little cocker spaniel. "We just got her, and a friend at the
hospital recommend your veterinary clinic." I then put two and two together. The recommendation came from Tammy.
"Wow, is this your little girl…Monica, right?" he asked, bending down to her level. She nodded shyly. "Last time I saw you; you were just a baby…with muffin all over your face." Monica giggled and looked up at me. She reached for her puppy and petted Molly's little feet. "Well, let's take Molly back and have a look at her," Drake said, and we followed him to one of the exam rooms.
I set Molly on the metal table and watched as Drake handled the puppy with such care. I still couldn't believe he became a vet. "She looks very healthy. Do you have her papers?"
"Yes, here in my purse," I said and pulled them out. Handing them over, Drake looked through her pedigree and was a little concerned that she came from a puppy mill.
"I had no idea. Her sweet little face was what sold me."
"Well, she'll be much better with you. I won't lie to you," he said, and for some reason, I respected how he said ‘won't lie to you.' "Puppies from these mills aren't always as healthy as from private breeders. So, I will check for any lung issues, and I would like to do some blood work and check for any parasites."
"Yes, please. I want to make sure she's healthy enough to be around Monica and in the house."
"She should be fine," he said and got busy with Molly's shots. He gave Molly a treat, which she gobbled up and then gave Monica a balloon. "Here you go, Monica. You like balloons?"
"Yes," she said with her fingers in her mouth—her shy response.
Molly was finished with her shots and physical, and Drake said he'd call when her blood work was done. "So, are you…dating?"
I bit my lip and smiled like a stupid school girl. "No. I'm not." Was he asking or just curious? I had been out of the dating scene since high school. In fact, I never even dated. Michael was my first. And after two years, I still didn't know what to call it.
I looked down at his hand and saw not ring. But then again, Michael never had or wore a ring. "So, I take it you're not married?"
"Nope. Guess I've been waiting on you." He said this staring into my eyes. I felt something in my chest and realized it was my heart—beating.
Love, Michael: A second chance romance Page 30