the stainless steel refrigerator, grinning at him. Then she busied herself back inside the fridge, finishing a shopping list only she understood: mlk, h cream, cof beans, Gr yog.
Mike stared at the door, stunned. Appreciation for Cate slammed into him, filling his throat.
"You're beautiful," he heard himself say.
Chapter Twenty Seven
Cate smiled widely, her face still inside the door. She waited a few beats to let the moment pass, then closed the heavy door gently. She tossed her shopping list and the pencil she used on the counter.
"You're very pretty, too." Cate's eyes laughed at Mike, while her heart struggled through the moment.
Mike sat, his eyes on Cate's, before he broke out into laughter. The sound of Mike's laugh always made Cate happy. She loved him. She really did , she thought.
Now Mike studied her, "You're extra happy today."
"I am."
"You deserve that. All the time."
"I do." She was moving around the kitchen, organizing her thoughts. Ch chips Nestle, Cate added to her list, d b sug.
Mike's piercing eyesight, when it came to Cate, seemed to be even more thorough and sturdy today. "Why don't you date?" he asked suddenly.
Cate looked at Mike kindly. "I'm not interested."
"I know, I know. But why? You've been divorced forever."
"Mike, I'm not getting involved with another man−ever." She used his name to punctuate the sentiment.
"Because of Tom?"
"Maybe." Cate was thoughtful. "But mostly because of me."
"You don't trust it could be different."
"I don't. You're right."
"But you're beautiful," he crooned now, satisfied to tease her.
"Why don't you date?" she changed the subject.
"I do. I just don't tell you." Mike hadn't dated anyone seriously in months.
"Ah."
"Yep."
"And this all started because I'm beautiful." Cate smiled. She wasn't going to forget those words quickly. Or the wistful way they'd been spoken.
"Go back to your list." Mike twisted his head to see upside down. "What's a Gr yog anyway?"
Chapter Twenty Eight
Nic, Alex and Cate were gathered around the fireplace. Steaming plates piled high with curly pasta, crunchy garlic bread and fresh salad sat in front of them. They had their choice of seating at the island, the kitchen nook (by the window) or the more formal dining room, but somehow, they always gathered before the fire.
"I see it in my head like a great big graph," Nic was saying.
Of course you do, Cate thought, of her engineer-trained son.
Nic was talking about his self-worth, based on Tom's opinion. Alex was nodding, agreeing, her mouth full of pasta.
"Here's this big, strong man. And this happens. If I−I can see the words in my head," he continued, struggling.
"If you thought he was your big strong daddy and you discovered he was human−" Cate tried her best to fill in his thought line. "What else are you wrong about?"
"Yes."
"And it goes as deep as all of our core beliefs," Al supplied, looking at Nic for approval. He only nodded.
"So you doubt yourselves?" Cate asked.
"At times." Nic paused between bites. "It's harder to be vulnerable."
"Why?"
"If he doesn't want us−" Alex held a tall, clear glass of milk.
Oh, God. Don't say it. Don't, Cate thought.
"No one will," Nic finished for her, nodding. "My lyrics are my vulnerability."
"Your fans don't show you how beautiful your words are?" Cate had her legs tucked up in front of her, criss-cross-applesauce. She leaned forward, placing her plate down softly on the glass-topped coffee table and patting a hopeful Merry on her soft head.
"Yeah, they do, Ma." He smiled at her gently. "But it's not the same."
"Because he's your dad."
"Yeah."
The damage this disease has done. "But you know he loves you?"
"Oh, yeah−"
"Oh, sure−"
Cate stared at the fire.
"Ma, we know it's the disease," Nic told her.
"We know he loves us," Al assured.
"And you know your worth?"
"How could we not?" Nic asked gently, looking his mother in the eye.
Alex just nodded.
"Let's talk about the holidays," Cate thought
Mike stared at the door, stunned. Appreciation for Cate slammed into him, filling his throat.
"You're beautiful," he heard himself say.
Chapter Twenty Seven
Cate smiled widely, her face still inside the door. She waited a few beats to let the moment pass, then closed the heavy door gently. She tossed her shopping list and the pencil she used on the counter.
"You're very pretty, too." Cate's eyes laughed at Mike, while her heart struggled through the moment.
Mike sat, his eyes on Cate's, before he broke out into laughter. The sound of Mike's laugh always made Cate happy. She loved him. She really did , she thought.
Now Mike studied her, "You're extra happy today."
"I am."
"You deserve that. All the time."
"I do." She was moving around the kitchen, organizing her thoughts. Ch chips Nestle, Cate added to her list, d b sug.
Mike's piercing eyesight, when it came to Cate, seemed to be even more thorough and sturdy today. "Why don't you date?" he asked suddenly.
Cate looked at Mike kindly. "I'm not interested."
"I know, I know. But why? You've been divorced forever."
"Mike, I'm not getting involved with another man−ever." She used his name to punctuate the sentiment.
"Because of Tom?"
"Maybe." Cate was thoughtful. "But mostly because of me."
"You don't trust it could be different."
"I don't. You're right."
"But you're beautiful," he crooned now, satisfied to tease her.
"Why don't you date?" she changed the subject.
"I do. I just don't tell you." Mike hadn't dated anyone seriously in months.
"Ah."
"Yep."
"And this all started because I'm beautiful." Cate smiled. She wasn't going to forget those words quickly. Or the wistful way they'd been spoken.
"Go back to your list." Mike twisted his head to see upside down. "What's a Gr yog anyway?"
Chapter Twenty Eight
Nic, Alex and Cate were gathered around the fireplace. Steaming plates piled high with curly pasta, crunchy garlic bread and fresh salad sat in front of them. They had their choice of seating at the island, the kitchen nook (by the window) or the more formal dining room, but somehow, they always gathered before the fire.
"I see it in my head like a great big graph," Nic was saying.
Of course you do, Cate thought, of her engineer-trained son.
Nic was talking about his self-worth, based on Tom's opinion. Alex was nodding, agreeing, her mouth full of pasta.
"Here's this big, strong man. And this happens. If I−I can see the words in my head," he continued, struggling.
"If you thought he was your big strong daddy and you discovered he was human−" Cate tried her best to fill in his thought line. "What else are you wrong about?"
"Yes."
"And it goes as deep as all of our core beliefs," Al supplied, looking at Nic for approval. He only nodded.
"So you doubt yourselves?" Cate asked.
"At times." Nic paused between bites. "It's harder to be vulnerable."
"Why?"
"If he doesn't want us−" Alex held a tall, clear glass of milk.
Oh, God. Don't say it. Don't, Cate thought.
"No one will," Nic finished for her, nodding. "My lyrics are my vulnerability."
"Your fans don't show you how beautiful your words are?" Cate had her legs tucked up in front of her, criss-cross-applesauce. She leaned forward, placing her plate down softly on the glass-topped coffee table and patting a hopeful Merry on her soft head.
"Yeah, they do, Ma." He smiled at her gently. "But it's not the same."
"Because he's your dad."
"Yeah."
The damage this disease has done. "But you know he loves you?"
"Oh, yeah−"
"Oh, sure−"
Cate stared at the fire.
"Ma, we know it's the disease," Nic told her.
"We know he loves us," Al assured.
"And you know your worth?"
"How could we not?" Nic asked gently, looking his mother in the eye.
Alex just nodded.
"Let's talk about the holidays," Cate thought
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