“I do, and yeah, I have a decent stash squirrelled away. Nothing like Naomi, but enough that I wouldn’t have to work for a few years if I didn’t want to.”
I blink. “Wow. If I took off for a few weeks I’d be strapped.”
“But you do good work. Important work,” he says. “You save lives. All I did was give people a reason to be even more addicted to their cell phones.” He bends, bringing his face closer to mine. “The only reason I said anything is that I don’t want you to stress about money. I have money to spare, and as soon as you get some vacation days built up, I’d love to take you somewhere fun. My treat.”
My gaze drops to the ground as I let out a long, slow breath.
“What’s wrong?” he asks.
“I don’t know,” I say honestly. “I mean, an offer like that would have been my mother’s dream come true, but it makes me feel….” I sigh again. “I don’t know. Off for some reason.”
“Maybe because you don’t want to be like her?” he suggests. “Not even a little bit.”
I huff. “Is it that obvious?”
“What’s obvious is that you’re nothing like your mom and you never will be. You’re strong and independent and have your shit together and letting me pay for things isn’t going to change that. You’ll still be the same strong person, just with more fancy dinners to look forward to.”
At the mention of dinner, my stomach growls again—a long, low, mournful wail that makes both of us laugh.
“Why don’t we head to the restaurant?” Mick asks. “See if they can take us a few minutes early?”
“Sounds perfect,” I say, taking his hand as we turn toward Royal Street, relieved for an excuse to put the awkward moment behind us.
I’ll think about why learning Mick is loaded makes all my nerves come rushing back later.
Once I’m not distracted by impending starvation.
On the way out of the square, I glance back at our tarot card reader. She’s all packed up for the night and greeting a giant man wearing a Security Team T-shirt. He leans down to give her a sweet kiss before tucking her trunk beneath his thick arm and starting for the opposite side of the square.
They’re obviously still in love, so much so the air around them seems to glow a little brighter.
I have no experience with love like that. I’ve never been in love and my mom was lucky to make one of her relationships last a year, let alone thirty.
But maybe…
I glance up at Mick to find him smiling down at me. It isn’t a thirty-years smile, but it’s kind, real, and honest.
So maybe.
Just…maybe happily ever after isn’t just for fairy tales after all.
Chapter Fifteen
Mick
By the time we cruise into Bliss River on Sunday, Faith and I have been together for three days—and nights—straight.
As an introvert, I should be craving some alone time.
Even when I was head over heels for Bridget and up for spending every waking moment together, I had to take regular breaks from the constant togetherness. I play a good extrovert at parties and networking events, but without solo time to recharge I can start to feel a little frayed around the edges.
But I don’t feel frayed now.
The only thing I feel as we pull up in front of the bakery Sunday evening just as Melody flips the ‘Open’ sign to ‘Closed’ is…bummed.
I’m not ready to say good-bye.
I want Faith across the dinner table from me again tonight, beside me on the couch as I draw up sketches for the remodel I’m starting tomorrow, and in my arms when we head to bed. In the past few days, I’ve grown increasingly addicted to her smile, her laugh, and the feel of her snuggled against me as I drift off to sleep.
The thought of waking without her drool on my shoulder tomorrow is enough to set off a depressive episode.
A mild one, but still…
“What’s wrong?” Faith asks, laughter in her voice. “You look like someone kicked your cat.”
“I don’t have a cat,” I say, glumly.
“Well, I do, and I’d better go feed and pet him like I mean it before he gets pissed and shreds the couch.” She hesitates a beat before adding, “But you could come with me if you want. We could hang out, order a pizza for dinner or something.”
I turn to her, feeling like a prison sentence has been lifted. “Does this mean it’s also cool if I stay the night? If so, I can be up to my apartment to grab my things and back down again in ten minutes.”
“Make it five, and you have a deal,” she says, making it clear she isn’t ready to say good-bye, either. “Because I’m starving.”
“You’re always starving,” I tease, leaning over to give her a swift kiss.