by Marie Force
“I figured out from when the letter was written that he went on a date the same day he sent me the roses. He said the date was awful because it wasn’t with me.”
Michael took a long sip of his wine. “I can’t be a good friend to you in this situation. I can’t say what I really want to.”
“It’s all right. There’s nothing you could say that I’m not already telling myself.”
He took her hand. “I’m sorry.”
“Are you?” she asked as she laced her fingers through his and flipped her soft brown eyes up to meet his.
Michael tugged on her hand and brought her to sit on his lap. He wrapped his arms around her. “Not really. He’s a fool. I already told you that.”
Juliana rested her head on his shoulder. “He said he wants to fix this before I meet someone else.”
Michael kissed the top of her head. “Too late.”
Chapter Fourteen
“Tell me more about your family,” Juliana said. They had folded the laundry she’d done earlier and were finishing the bottle of wine from dinner.
Michael stretched and rested his head against the back of the sofa. He had changed into a Red Sox T-shirt and sweats. “I told you I have three sisters, right?”
“Uh huh. Where are they now?”
“They all still live within blocks of my parents’ house in Newport, and they married guys we grew up with. Let’s see, Mary Frances is the oldest. She married John Doncaster. They have five kids—Connor, Colm, Cormac, Catherine, and Clara,” he said, ticking off the names on five fingers.
“I love the Irish names.”
“There’re more coming. Maggie married Luke O’Shea, and they have three kids, Patrick, Sean, and Emma. Then my sister Shannon married Hughie Sullivan, but we’re not supposed to call him Hughie anymore. They have Lauren, Ailish, Hannah, and Grace.”
“Wow, four girls!”
Michael laughed. “I know. Hughie—I mean Hugh—is totally overwhelmed by them. He was the roughest kid. It’s so funny to see him with all those women.”
“What are your parents like?”
“My mother, Maureen, loves being a grandmother. She has at least three kids trailing behind her whenever she’s not working as a housekeeper for the Preservation Society. They take care of Newport’s famous mansions. My dad, Sean, is the city’s deputy fire chief.”
“They must be so proud of you.”
He shrugged. “They are, but I think they wish I’d married a girl from the neighborhood and stayed close by like the others did.”
“And had six Irish kids?” Juliana asked with a teasing smile.
Michael cringed. “I’m more than happy to let my sisters produce the grandchildren. My dad was disappointed that I didn’t follow him into the fire department. His father, his brothers, and their sons are all firefighters, but it just wasn’t for me. I wanted to go to school.”
“Where did you go?”
“Boston College. Then I worked in Boston for a few years to save some money before I went to law school.”
“Did you always want to be a lawyer?”
“For as long as I can remember. And I always wanted to go to Georgetown. A recruiter came to my high school when I was a junior, and from then on I was just hooked on Georgetown and the idea of living in the District. I didn’t get in as an undergraduate, which was bitterly disappointing. But I kicked ass on the LSATs—the test you have to take for law school—and got in.”
“Did it live up to your expectations?”
“Totally. I loved every minute of it. Well, except for the nonstop studying. That got old fast, especially since I’d had a few years off from school by then and had lost all my discipline.”
“I always wanted to go to college,” she said wistfully.
“Why didn’t you?”
“No money,” she said with a shrug. “My dad was a bus driver for the city, so we barely had enough to make ends meet. It also didn’t help that my brother Vincent flunked out of Towson, which made my father crazy. He would go on and on about the money he wasted. After that, I knew he’d never pay for me to go.”
“You can still go, you know. It’s never too late.”
“There’s still no money,” she said with a sad smile.
“There’re lots of options—financial aid, scholarships. You could do it.”
“I think that ship has sailed for me. Besides, I like my job, and I feel lucky to have it. Panache is one of the best salons in the city. I’ve built up a pretty decent following and hardly ever have an open appointment anymore.”
“You’re good at it. I’ve seen your work, remember?” He ran a hand through his hair to make his point.
She winced. “I’d hate to think of you as one of my few unsatisfied customers.”
“I’m a very satisfied customer. The women in my office went crazy over it today.”
Juliana raised an eyebrow. “Did they?”
He grinned. “Uh huh. And Paige hated it, so good job.”
Juliana threw a sofa pillow at him. “Glad I could help.” She reached for her wineglass. “You’re lucky, you know?”
He covered her free hand with both of his. “Because I’m here with you?”
She gave him a withering look. “No. Because you have such a nice family. Mine’s a disaster area. Yours sounds so normal.”
His handsome face grew somber. “We’ve had our challenges.” After a long pause, he said, “I had a brother.”
“You did?”
“Patrick. He died when he was twelve and I was seven.”
Juliana squeezed his hand. “Oh, Michael. I’m sorry.”
“He had leukemia. He got sick in the middle of the summer and was dead by October.”
“It must’ve been so shocking.”
“Yeah, my parents were never quite the same after.”
“Of course they weren’t.”
“The worst part was after he died, we never talked about him. It was like we were all afraid to mention his name because we didn’t want to upset my mother, so we just stopped talking about him.”
Juliana’s eyes filled with tears.
“He was the most important person in the world to me and then, in the blink of an eye, he was gone, and I had to act like he never existed.”
Juliana rested her head on Michael’s shoulder and held his hand. “What was he like?”
“He was a great athlete—an all-star baseball and football player. The coaches used to tell my dad he was going to be a pro. It was just a matter of which sport. But I think he would’ve been a firefighter. He used to take me with him everywhere he went, and he never complained about having me around. He called me Mikey.”
“That’s cute.”
“I’ve never let anyone else call me that. He’s been gone twenty-five years, and I still miss him.” Michael raised his arm and put it around her. “Can I be self-serving again for a minute?”
She smiled up at him. “If you must.”
“In all the years I was with Paige, I never told her about Pat. There was just never a time when I felt comfortable telling her.”
“Thank you for telling me,” Juliana said, touched by his confession.
“It’s not just me, is it?”
“What?”
He held her eyes with his. “You feel it, too, don’t you? Even just a little bit?”
She couldn’t look away. After a long moment of silence, she bit her lip and nodded.
He leaned in to kiss her.
Under the hand she had on his chest she felt his heart begin to pound and told herself she should stop, that kissing him like this was wrong because she was still involved with Jeremy. But then she remembered that she wasn’t with Jeremy now, so technically this wasn’t wrong. And, damn, it felt so good to be in Michael’s arms, to feel the weight of him resting against her as he kissed her with wild abandon.
“Juliana,” he whispered against her ear. “God, you smell so good. I can’t get enough of you.” He kissed her again and
groaned when her arms closed tight around him. As his tongue teased hers, he caressed her back under the black T-shirt she had worn to work.
“Michael, wait,” she said, tearing her lips free of his. “This is happening too fast for me.”
He took her hand and put it over his pounding heart. “Feel that? You did that.”
“Please.” Her own heart skipped an unsteady beat. “I can’t do this. I can’t jump from one guy to another. It’s just not who I am.”
“I know. I’m sorry.” He helped her sit up next to him and dropped his head into his hands. “I’m sorry. I said I wouldn’t push you.”
“You haven’t.” She rested her arm on his back. “It’s just that things are so complicated right now—for both of us. If we let this get out of hand, someone’s going to get hurt.”
“You’re right.”
“I’m not going to deny there’s something between us,” she said, smiling when he brightened at her admission. “But we need some time. You’ve just ended an engagement, and I’m still involved with Jeremy. We’re having some problems right now, but it’s far from over between us.”
“I know. We’ll take it slow, and see what happens.”
“Promise?”
He kissed her hand. “I promise.”
Juliana had to work at noon the next day, so she slept until nine thirty. She lay in bed for a long time wishing there was someone she could talk to about everything that had happened in the last week. Most of her girlfriends were part of couples she and Jeremy were friends with, so there was no way she could share this with them. She could talk to Carol at work, but with the trial starting she hated to burden Carol with her problems. Her sister Dona would take far too much pleasure in hearing there was trouble between her and “Mr. Wonderful”—the sarcastic nickname she and Vincent bestowed upon Jeremy years ago.
Juliana was almost startled to realize there was no one else. She had turned to Jeremy for everything she needed for so long that she had isolated herself from other relationships. Interesting, she thought as she got up to shower. When she was drying her hair, it occurred to her that there was one person she could talk to who wouldn’t pass judgment on her—or Jeremy. The last thing she wanted was anyone treating him differently if they managed to work things out.
She got dressed for work and walked the short distance to Collington Street. Mrs. Romanello’s door was never locked, and Juliana went in calling out, “Hello? It’s just me.”
“Come on in!” Mrs. R called from upstairs. “I’ll be right down. There’s coffee on if you want some.”
The television blared on the counter as Juliana poured herself a cup of coffee. Jeremy always said Mrs. R’s coffee was better than any coffee shop. When he was home he went next door on many a morning to fill his mug—and his stomach—before work. The memory made Juliana sad. Suddenly, it felt like a hundred years ago since they had lived happily next door.
“This is a nice surprise,” Mrs. R said with a kiss to Juliana’s cheek. She wore one of the stylish sweat suits Juliana gave her for Christmas the year before.
“Coffee?” When the older woman nodded, Juliana filled a second mug.
“You’re all in funeral colors, so you must be working today,” Mrs. R said, turning the television down to a normal decibel.
Juliana chuckled. “I know, I know: young girls don’t belong all in black. You don’t have to say it.”
“It’s ridiculous. The owners of that salon of yours need to have their heads examined.”
“Think of it this way—I never have to spend even one second wondering what to wear to work.”
“That’s true, but you’re not here to have this old argument with me, are you? What’s on your mind, hon?”
Juliana shrugged and sat down at the kitchen table. “I seem to have gotten myself into a bit of a mess.”
“What kind of mess?”
Juliana poured out the whole story—from meeting Michael in the airport, to Jeremy’s desire to be with other women and their decision to separate for a few months, to moving in with Michael, his broken engagement, his confession that he was falling for her, her growing feelings for him, and Jeremy’s campaign to keep her in his life. Remembering her promise to Michael, the only thing she left out was the part about Rachelle.
“Well,” Mrs. R said with a stunned expression, “all this in one week?”
“I know! It’s too much. I can’t process it. What should I do, Mrs. R? I’m so confused.”
“I’m going to be honest with you, hon. I’m disappointed in Jeremy. I can’t imagine what he’s thinking. If you fall for this Michael fellow or someone else for that matter, Jeremy’s going to have to acknowledge that he let it happen.”
“Don’t be mad with Jeremy,” Juliana pleaded. “I don’t want you to hate him if we manage to get through this and stay together.”
“I could never hate him. I love you both like my own. You know that, Juliana.”
“Yes,” she whispered.
“I love him, but I’m disappointed in him, too. He’s put you in a terrible position by telling you his most private thoughts.”
“But wouldn’t it have been worse if he’d acted on them and kept it from me? I mean, he could’ve gotten away with it, right? I never would’ve known.”
“You would’ve known. You know him better than anyone on this earth, and he knows there’s no way he would’ve gotten away with cheating on you. I have to give him a few points for respecting you enough not to do that.” She took a sip of her coffee.
The local newscast at the top of the hour led with the Benedetti trial. “Listen. They’re talking about the trial—Michael’s trial.”
“Attorneys met today in a pre-trial conference with Judge Harvey Stein,” the anchorman reported. “Jury selection gets under way on Monday in what promises to be the contentious trial of Marco and Steven Benedetti, accused in the shotgun slayings of Baltimore teenagers Jose Borges, Timothy Sargant, and Mark Domingos.” The news shifted to a shot of the courthouse steps where reporters surrounded Michael and several other men in suits.
“Oh, look! That’s him. That’s Michael.”
“Mr. Maguire!”
The reporters all talked at once.
“What can you tell us about your trial strategy?”
“Not much,” Michael replied confidently. “Except that we’re ready to go for Monday and looking forward to seeing justice served on behalf of the Borges, Sargant, and Domingos families. That’s all I’m going to say at this time.”
“Mr. Maguire, is it true your case rides on the witness you have in protective custody?”
“No comment.”
Juliana watched him push his way through the crowd of reporters. When the news shifted back to the anchor, she noticed Mrs. R watching her with an odd expression on her face.
“Oh, my,” Mrs. R said.
“What?”
“You’re in love with him. It’s all over your face. You couldn’t take your eyes off him.”
“I am not in love with him,” Juliana protested, her heart beating hard. “I like him, though. A lot.”
“You could be in danger living with him during all this craziness.”
Juliana reached across the table for Mrs. R’s hand. “It’s safe. There’s a cop watching the house. There’s nothing to worry about.”
“I don’t like this, Juliana. Not one bit. Will you promise me if you’re ever scared there you’ll come stay here with me?”
“I promise, but you don’t have to worry. Besides, I’ve got bigger problems. What am I going to do?”
Mrs. R appeared to give Juliana’s question considerable thought before she answered. “My Tony and I, bless his soul, were married for fifty-three years. Fifty-three beautiful years.” A soft look of love fell over her wrinkled face. “In all that time, I never once wondered if he was thinking of someone else. Not once.”
Juliana looked down at her coffee cup.
“Jeremy loves you. I know he does. But wh
at he’s asked of you is almost too much. I’ve wondered why the two of you never married.”
Juliana shrugged. “We just never got around to it.”
“You need to think about why that is.”
“Vincent says it’s because Jeremy doesn’t need to buy the cow when he’s getting the milk for free,” Juliana said, blushing.
Mrs. R raised an eyebrow. “Vincent’s an idiot, but he’s got a point. Maybe you were too good to Jeremy, and he began to take you for granted. But you have to ask yourself: if you’re able to work all this out and he manages to win you back, is he going to get itchy feet again a year or two down the road when you’re married and maybe have a baby on the way?”
“I don’t know how to be without him. He’s been everything to me, you know? He rescued me from the hell of my family, and gave me this safe place to be for so many years. How do I just walk away from that?”
“You did the right thing taking this break, hon. You both need to figure out what you want. Just because you’ve been with him for ten years doesn’t mean you’re meant to be with him forever. Why don’t you give yourself this time to learn how to be without him? When the three months are up, you can see how you feel about it and decide what to do then.”
“What about Michael?”
“What about him?”
“I have feelings for him, but I don’t want to be one of those girls who goes from guy to guy like they don’t know how to function on their own.”
Mrs. R laughed. “You’ve been with the same guy for ten years, Juliana. You’re hardly setting a pattern by exploring your feelings for one other guy. Besides, the way you’ve taken care of your mother all these years proves you don’t need a man to take care of you. There’s no doubt in my mind that you’re capable of standing on your own two feet in any situation.”
Juliana reached over to hug her. “Thank you,” she whispered.
“Any time.” Mrs. R tilted Juliana’s chin up, wise old eyes zeroing in. “You do know if you let yourself become involved with Michael that eventually it’s going to come down to a choice, right? You’ll have to choose between them. Are you prepared to do that?”