Rare Objects

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Now she had my attention. “Us?”

“Yeah, us!” Her upper lip curled in triumph. “What Michael earns is my business now too!”

I felt like I’d taken one of Mick’s left hooks straight to the kidney.

He was behind her now, staring at me like I was the Ghost of Christmas Past.

No longer the golden boy, Mickey wore his history on his face; resignation weighted his brow, and his nose was flattened out from being broken too many times. But if anything, it only added interest to his dark eyes, black hair, and well-muscled physique. Although handsome, Mickey was and always had been slightly unsure of himself, self-deprecating and shy. It was the most attractive thing about him. But now his battered features bestowed a gravitas that had been lacking before.

With one look, I’d always been able to win him back. I searched his eyes. “Us? Really, Mick?”

He laid a hand on Hildy’s shoulder. “I’ll deal with this,” he said in his soft, lilting brogue.

My heart disappeared through the bottom of my stomach. I hadn’t been sure what I was doing here, why I’d come. But now I knew I’d been kidding myself, imagining that after all we’d been through, he might still want me.

Hildy flashed him a warning look.

“Let me deal with it,” he said again.

“I know you—you’ll end up giving her more!” she hissed.

It was charming the way they both talked about me as if I weren’t standing right in front of them. “Actually”—I pulled my chin up—“I just stopped by to pay you back, Mickey.”

“See?” He gave Hildy a gentle push, back toward the chair. “I’ll handle this.”

“Well, you better!” She marched into the office instead and slammed the door. It echoed dramatically through the hall.

Mickey ran his hand across his eyes wearily, like a man forced to mediate between his mother and his wife. “Jesus, Maeve!”

“Jesus yourself!” I shot back. “What are you doing, Mick?”

He pointed a finger at me. “I don’t have to answer to you! You left! Remember?” Still, the color rose in his cheeks, and I knew he was embarrassed.

“Sure.” I shrugged. “You don’t have to answer to anyone. Least of all me.”

“Damn right I don’t!”

“I guess I’m like a bad penny: you just can’t get rid of me.”

He sighed, shook his head, but his eyes softened. At six foot three, he was one of the few men who could ever look down on me. “Aw, now, you know I didn’t want to be rid of you, Maeve. I never wanted that.”

I nodded to the office door. “You do now.”

A shadow of guilt flickered in his eyes. “What did you expect me to do? Wait?”