We made it to the top and Mike showed me Jonas’s room, Layla sweeping in and running through it like she was an enthusiastic tour guide, and I saw his boy was obviously into music. There was a drum kit set up and a guitar on a stand and the walls could not be seen for all the band posters on them. The bed was unmade and the drawers were open with clothes spilling out.

“He’s not big on pickin’ up his room,” Mike told me.

“I would guess that’s in the Teenage Boy’s Handbook seeing as it’s also in the Adult Man’s Handbook. Gotta train ‘em early.”

Mike chuckled and showed me Clarisse’s room, Layla again running through it even over the bed, which was made. His daughter’s room looked almost identical to Keira’s except not pinks and purples, instead blues and yellows and instead of daisies, there were butterflies and there was not a mixture of boy band and teenage vampire posters, there were only teenage vampires.

I looked up at Mike. “You load your gun with silver bullets?”

“Clarisse tells me that only works on werewolves.”

I burst out laughing and Mike smiled at me before he threw an arm around my shoulders and then he showed me a smaller room with more shelves and a high-backed, black leather swivel chair in front of a large desk with built-in storage and a computer on it. There was a comfortable looking armchair in the corner with a table and a standing lamp beside it. A study for him, for the kids, a private place to be, to do your homework or read. It was nice.

Then he led me out of there and took me down the hall, showing me his room.

That was nicer. It had more French doors, a small, private deck leading off. The room was huge, so was his bed, and his bed was cool as all hell, a dark wood, heavy sleigh bed with a taupe, tan and chocolate paisley comforter. Layla didn’t play tour guide here. She got to Mike’s room, she ran straight up and jumped on the bed, settling on her belly, her head on her paws.

I ignored the dog’s invitation to join her on Mike’s bed and Mike told me there was walk-in closet and showed me the master bath with double basin, separate bath and shower. The bath was bigger than most, oval, sitting in a platform with a step up. The bathroom was enough for me to buy this house. It was awesome, a woman’s dream.

He led me out and I was feeling weird about taking a tour of his bedroom. I hadn’t been on a second date since I was in high school but I was thinking this was unusual.

I felt so weird, I didn’t think before I remarked, “That’s quite a bed.”

“Audrey paid six thousand dollars for that bed,” Mike replied.

I stopped dead and stared up at him.

“What?”

“Yep, six thousand fuckin’ dollars. She loved that bed. Won’t say much for me, honey, but, seein’ as I actually paid for it and I knew she loved it and no way we could sell it and make that cake back, I made certain I got it in the divorce. Our divorce wasn’t pretty, she fought me on everything, had no ground to stand on, lost huge,” he smiled, “lost her fuckin’ bed.”

Since he did pay for it and he should get it and it was a great bed, I smiled back at him.

“Anyway, Clarisse and I got a thing, Scary Movie Friday Night. She’s with me on a Friday, we watch horror movies, bowls of popcorn, tubs of ice cream.” His head tipped to the wall where there was a flat screen TV installed. “Jonas even stoops to join us every once in awhile. Bed’s perfect for Scary Movie Friday Night.”

I thought of Mike with his unknown daughter having a Scary Movie Friday Night, a twelve year old girl watching horror flicks, cuddled up to her big, tall, strong, handsome Dad and I didn’t have a belly flutter. My eyes filled with tears and I looked away.

“Hey,” Mike called.

I took a sip of wine and stared at the wall.

His hand came to my jaw and he repeated, “Hey,” as he forced me to look at him.

“Can I use your bathroom?” I asked, staring at his nose.

“You can, you look at me and tell me why you got tears in your eyes.”

I blinked back the tears, swallowed then looked at him and whispered, “Sorry.”

“About what?”

“It doesn’t happen much anymore, but when it does it throws me, always,” I shut my eyes tight, then opened them and repeated, “always.”

His hand with his wine glass curled around to the small of my back, pulling me closer, and he asked softly, “What doesn’t happen much anymore?”

I shook my head, putting my free hand on his shoulder, my hand with the glass to his waist. He didn’t seem at all hesitant about sharing about his kids, his ex, and being totally honest about it.

I didn’t find it that easy.

But since he gave it to me, I figured I should give it back and when I figured that, I was reminded of Joe telling me about the scales.

Balancing them out.

Shit, Joe was too wise for my good and it pissed me off when he was right.

“Just that…” I trailed off, not knowing how to explain it, “getting reminded of things. You know, like my girls’ll never cuddle up to their Dad again, watch a movie.”

His face changed, grew gentle, his hand tensed at my jaw and he whispered, “Sweetheart.”

I shook my head again. “It’s okay, it’s cool. Sorry. It isn’t cool, just that I should say, it’s good that you have that with Clarisse.”

“Yeah,” he replied, his eyes never leaving mine, “’cept, next time, it’ll mean a helluva lot more than normal.”

I bit my lip thinking I was standing mostly in the arms of a really good guy.

Mike read that I needed a subject change pronto and asked, “You wanna see why I bought this place?”

“Sure.”

He let me go, took my hand and led me to the French doors and out onto the white-painted, wooden balcony.

There were a couple of Adirondack chairs there, also painted white, no pads. His yard below had a high fence all around to shield his business from the neighbors.

But I knew why he brought me to his bedroom when I saw, beyond his fenced yard, there was also a view of straight, flat cornfield, the corn growing, knee height now. Beyond that were some dense woods. Smack in the middle of it, there was a yellow farmhouse with white woodwork, a wraparound porch and a red barn with green lawn all around, some graveled drives, a white gazebo with wisteria growing from it, a grape arbor heavy with vines.

Something about the view stunned me. I’d seen many farmhouses but this one, from our elevated view, seemed picture perfect. There was intricate, lacy woodwork in the corners of the posts holding up the porch roof; the lawn looked like mine, green and healthy; and the pristine rows filled with the wide leaves of the growing corn, both spiky and bowed, all of it exquisitely cared for and cultivated showed these farmers loved their home, their farm, the pride went deep and it was amazing to behold.

Not a lot of people would think this was picturesque or at least not beautiful. It wasn’t a beach or a view of the mountains but I thought it was gorgeous. I could totally see buying this house if I could sit in an Adirondack chair, drink wine and stare at that view.

“Grew up in this ‘burg and my high school girlfriend grew up on that farm,” Mike told me and I looked up at him to see his eyes on the farmhouse. “She got married to some guy she met at Notre Dame, moved to DC. Her brother runs that farm now.” He looked down at me. “I always loved that farm.”

“Did you wanna be a farmer?” I asked.

“Fuck no,” he grinned, “still, liked her farm. Her folks were great too. And she had this sister…” he stopped talking and I waited for him to say more. His face had grown thoughtful in a faraway way and since he didn’t seem to mind sharing, and he wasn’t sharing, I figured he didn’t want to so I changed the subject.

“How’d you meet Audrey?” I asked, leaning against the railing and he came back to the conversation and leaned with me.

“Blind date.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” he grinned again, “friend of mine was dating a friend of hers. Thought we’d get on.”

“Obviously, you did.”

He didn’t answer, he looked out to the farmhouse again, taking a sip of his wine, his face grew pensive again and I thought I read what this meant.

“You really liked her,” I said softly, not wanting to push.

Mike’s eyes came to me. “Audrey?”

“No, your high school girlfriend.”

He burst out laughing.

“What?” I asked when he was mostly done laughing.

“Debbie was sweet, but she was career minded. Hated livin’ here, couldn’t wait to get out, doesn’t come back often. She didn’t want kids, wanted to be a lawyer and she became one. Her brother tells me she’s a shark. Makes a mint, works eighty hour weeks, lives and breathes her work. Saw her at Christmas a few years ago, she was with her Mom in the grocery store and she had her Blackberry in her hand, e-mailin’ people while she was at home for the holidays, out with her Mom, buyin’ egg nog. Seriously, sweetheart, that is not my thing.”

“And Audrey was your thing?”

The humor moved out of his face and he said, “You don’t wanna know about that shit.”

“I do, unless you don’t want to tell me.”

“Violet –”

“Mike, honey, I just nearly burst into tears in your bedroom. You can feel free to tell me about your ex-wife.”

He smiled, took another sip of wine, then slid an arm around my waist, inching me closer and when he had me where he wanted me, he left his arm there.

“I won’t lie, lookin’ back, she gave me signals, lots of ‘em. But she could be funny, fuckin’ hell, she could be funny. Never laughed so hard as I did with Audrey in the beginning, thought that’d be my life, laughter. She was gorgeous and she made me laugh and I kept my focus on that and ignored the signals. It started six months in, after we got back from our honeymoon, which, by the way, she demanded was at an all-inclusive that cost a fuckin’ fortune. I was twenty-four, my parents had to help me pay for it.”

He paused to allow me to let this information sink in, I nodded for him to continue and he did.

“We’d moved into our apartment but she wanted another one, bigger, more exclusive in a development with a pool. I couldn’t afford it but I loved her, so the minute the lease ran out, I moved her into her new apartment. Two months later, she found a house she wanted to buy and it kept goin’ from there. She never hid it from me, I just wanted to think eventually she’d have what she needed or she’d be happy with what she had or, at least, she’d be happy just to have me. She never was.”

I placed my hand on his chest thinking Audrey Haines was all kinds of fool, his arm gave me a squeeze and he went on talking.

“I should have ended it before we got down to kids but, if I did,” he shrugged, “I wouldn’t have my kids.”

“Worth it then,” I murmured.

“Definitely,” he smiled.

Layla, done with giving her hint that camping out on the bed meant we should join her there, came out and started to head butt our legs.

“I should start cooking,” Mike said, letting me go to pet his dog who, remembering he existed, appeared in throes of ecstasy to have his big, strong hand scratching behind her ears.

“Can I help?” I asked and he stayed bent to Layla but twisted his torso to look up at me.

“You always cook for your girls?”

“Mostly, yeah.”

“Then no.”

There it went, the belly flutter again.

“You always cook when your kids are here?” I asked.

“Yeah.”

“Then I’ll help.”

He gave Layla a playful push and came to me, his hand curling at my neck, pulling my upper body close to his as his neck bent so his face could get close to mine.

When he was close, he whispered, “I like you, Violet.”

“I like you too, Mike,” I whispered back.

He grinned, touched his forehead to mine a second then touched his lips to mine a second then he said, “Let’s go cook.”

* * *

Being a good Dad, Mike knew how to cook. The au gratin potatoes were already cooking in the oven and he made London broil and green beans and he had fresh bakery rolls to go with.

We ate at his kitchen table with Layla lying mostly on Mike’s feet then we did the dishes together. After the dishes, Mike made ice cream sundaes with lashings of caramel and chocolate syrup on gourmet vanilla bean ice cream, whipped cream on top, sprinkled with pralines. I took note of this since they were simple but absolutely delicious. My girls would love them.

We ate these on the couch with Layla sitting by my side, her head on the seat by me, staring at me while blinking, telling me she needed ice cream or she’d die.