Her Secret Life

Because she wanted to.

Because he was Michael.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

LIVING WITH WILLIE WAS...different. Michael had known it would be an adjustment. He was used to being on his own. Accountable only to himself.

Willie thought Michael had OCD because he kept all condiments on the door of the refrigerator, all drinks on the first shelf and leftovers only on the third.

It didn’t matter that his reasoning was sound—a quick glance told him if he had something for dinner. He’d been labeled.

Diane hit him up at work on Tuesday morning. Apparently the rift between youngest brother and sisters was showing signs of healing. The women had made a deal with Willie, who finally had an inside scoop, to keep an eye out for any signs of concern at Mike’s house. Which was exactly why he kept his life to himself.

Anything could be seen as a problem if viewed in the wrong light. Too much of a good thing was bad, and all of that.

On Thursday, Charlie called to invite him and Willie to dinner. Before he could accept—which he was glad to do because even dinner at his youngest and nosiest sister’s house was better than being alone with a kid who hadn’t looked him directly in the eye in ten years—she started in on him.

“Before you tell me no, or make up some excuse about Willie being with you or that I tend to be hardest on him, let me just tell you that I’ve already texted him and asked him if he thought it was okay if I asked you.”

“Willie agreed to have dinner at your house.”

“Yes. I’m not saying he was thrilled about the idea, but he allowed that it would be better than sitting home alone with you. Apparently all you do is work.”

“That’s not true.” He was getting less sleep than he’d like, spending his evenings playing video games and then having to stay up to get his work done after his little brother turned in for the night.

“He says you have no life, Mike. No friends that stop over for a beer. Or neighbors that seem friendly with you. He doubts whether they even know your name.”

“They do.” And they respected his privacy. As he did theirs. He wasn’t a borrow-a-cup-of-sugar type of guy.

“It’s just what Diane and I have been saying all along—and what Mom and Dad fear but won’t say to you—you’ve become a recluse. It’s not—”

“I am not a recluse.” Nor was he in a patient mood. So he wasn’t the outgoing, fun-loving kid he’d been in college. He’d grown up.

And yes, the accident had changed him. It had shown him his own mortality in a way most kids didn’t get. And it had shown him what mattered most—his family.

If he chose to simplify his life and do only what he loved and cared about—his work and looking after his family—then so be it.

“Not literally,” she allowed. “Because you go out all the time, even travel, for work. And for the Lemonade Stand, which is pretty much an extension of your work.”

“Running a successful company takes time,” he allowed. “A lot of it.” He could name twenty indivi

duals, without even having to concentrate, who gave the hours to their jobs that he did. They were all clients of his.

“But being a complete person means having relationships with people who aren’t paying you.”

Yes, it did. As he’d learned since meeting Kacey.

He had a friend. A good one.

Maybe even a cherished one—though he wasn’t quite ready to admit how much he’d grown to care about his mentee.

Thinking of her brought a flash of their last conversation. The pain he was certain he’d detected in her voice when he’d told her what he’d assumed they both knew—that they’d lose what they had if they exposed their relationship to others.

She had to know that Neanderthal wouldn’t be supportive if he knew about Mike in Kacey’s life. What man would want his girlfriend to be best friends with another guy?

He sure as hell wouldn’t. He’d want her emotional intimacies all for himself.

“Mike, are you listening to me?” Charlie’s voice rose like it did when she was gearing up for a rampage or tears of frustration. She was prone to both when it came to him.