leg.” He gestured off screen in the direction of his mangled leg. “A lot of things changed for me. I want to be a good man. I’m trying to be. I wasn’t a good man before.”
Tara looked at him on the screen, the memory of how different he’d been around his friends flitting through her mind. “You weren’t a good man around your friends. You were a good man when you were with me.”
Michael frowned at her, his lips pursed. He gave a frustrated growl and ground out from between clenched teeth, “A good man is a good man all the time. He doesn’t change because of his friends. He doesn’t hurt the woman he loves and deny his child because he thinks his friends will judge him. A good man would have told them where to go and what to do when they got there. I wasn’t a good man, Tara. But I want to be. I’m trying to be. I’ve been trying for five years since Lieutenant Paulson found me and knocked some sense into me. I know I don’t stand a snowball’s chance in hell of ever getting you back. But I want to at least try to be a good father to Madelynn if I can’t be a good man to you.”
Tara laughed shakily. She was stuck on that “woman he loves” comment. “Wow. What if I told you that you had just a tiny bit more than a snowball’s chance in hell? More like a snowball’s chance in, say, Phoenix?” Still not a good chance, but… the woman he loves?
Michael froze and blinked rapidly at her. “Are you saying that, or are you just curious?”
Tara looked down, thoughtful. “I don’t know. I do know that since you, well, no other man has quite made the cut. But then again, it’s hard to date with a kid. Men tend to look the other way and, honestly, that’s fine with me. I don’t know if we should even consider getting involved again. I don’t want to make things any worse, but is that even possible?” She hiccupped.
“I think if you gave us a chance,” he swallowed hesitantly, "I think we might be able to make a go of it. Do you think that’s a possibility?” He waited, watching her.
Tara looked away, unable to meet his gaze even on a computer screen. “I don’t know, Michael.” She leaned forward and put her head on the desk and then jerked up quickly. “I’m falling asleep here,” she muttered, shaking her head. “I’m still attracted to you, and talking to you yesterday and then thinking all day kind of brought it all back. You hurt me so much, and I think you might just be interested because you don’t think anyone else will want you because of your leg. I mean, women like me don’t get men like you. It just doesn’t happen.”
Michael frowned. “What do you mean when you say women like you and men like me?”
Tara sighed. Stupid man. “Do I have to spell it out for you? Fat women with hot men. Doesn’t happen.”
“Tara, you are not fat. On your absolute heaviest day, you’re maybe 155 soaking wet. I was an ass for saying that, and my so-called friends were ignorant little punks. I can’t stand women that think a three digit weight is a death sentence.” He frowned for a moment and then grinned and said, “Hey, you think I’m hot? Because I thought you had a killer body then, and I haven’t changed that opinion. Not to mention you look like a young Audrey Hepburn.”
Tara perked up. “You think I look like Audrey Hepburn?” Her mother had always told her that, but Tara had simply brushed it off as motherly love.
“No, I think you look better than Audrey Hepburn. Definitely better. Especially since I’ve never seen Audrey Hepburn naked. Or in my shirts. How are they, by the way?”
Tara blushed, remembering the purging ceremony she’d had with Rebecca. “Sadly, they are ashes. After you were so mean to me that night, I had a pity party and set fire to everything I had that was yours and everything that reminded me of you.”
Michael stared at her in disbelief. “You burned my OktoberFest shirt? I got that in Germany!”
She grimaced. “Yeah. And
Tara looked at him on the screen, the memory of how different he’d been around his friends flitting through her mind. “You weren’t a good man around your friends. You were a good man when you were with me.”
Michael frowned at her, his lips pursed. He gave a frustrated growl and ground out from between clenched teeth, “A good man is a good man all the time. He doesn’t change because of his friends. He doesn’t hurt the woman he loves and deny his child because he thinks his friends will judge him. A good man would have told them where to go and what to do when they got there. I wasn’t a good man, Tara. But I want to be. I’m trying to be. I’ve been trying for five years since Lieutenant Paulson found me and knocked some sense into me. I know I don’t stand a snowball’s chance in hell of ever getting you back. But I want to at least try to be a good father to Madelynn if I can’t be a good man to you.”
Tara laughed shakily. She was stuck on that “woman he loves” comment. “Wow. What if I told you that you had just a tiny bit more than a snowball’s chance in hell? More like a snowball’s chance in, say, Phoenix?” Still not a good chance, but… the woman he loves?
Michael froze and blinked rapidly at her. “Are you saying that, or are you just curious?”
Tara looked down, thoughtful. “I don’t know. I do know that since you, well, no other man has quite made the cut. But then again, it’s hard to date with a kid. Men tend to look the other way and, honestly, that’s fine with me. I don’t know if we should even consider getting involved again. I don’t want to make things any worse, but is that even possible?” She hiccupped.
“I think if you gave us a chance,” he swallowed hesitantly, "I think we might be able to make a go of it. Do you think that’s a possibility?” He waited, watching her.
Tara looked away, unable to meet his gaze even on a computer screen. “I don’t know, Michael.” She leaned forward and put her head on the desk and then jerked up quickly. “I’m falling asleep here,” she muttered, shaking her head. “I’m still attracted to you, and talking to you yesterday and then thinking all day kind of brought it all back. You hurt me so much, and I think you might just be interested because you don’t think anyone else will want you because of your leg. I mean, women like me don’t get men like you. It just doesn’t happen.”
Michael frowned. “What do you mean when you say women like you and men like me?”
Tara sighed. Stupid man. “Do I have to spell it out for you? Fat women with hot men. Doesn’t happen.”
“Tara, you are not fat. On your absolute heaviest day, you’re maybe 155 soaking wet. I was an ass for saying that, and my so-called friends were ignorant little punks. I can’t stand women that think a three digit weight is a death sentence.” He frowned for a moment and then grinned and said, “Hey, you think I’m hot? Because I thought you had a killer body then, and I haven’t changed that opinion. Not to mention you look like a young Audrey Hepburn.”
Tara perked up. “You think I look like Audrey Hepburn?” Her mother had always told her that, but Tara had simply brushed it off as motherly love.
“No, I think you look better than Audrey Hepburn. Definitely better. Especially since I’ve never seen Audrey Hepburn naked. Or in my shirts. How are they, by the way?”
Tara blushed, remembering the purging ceremony she’d had with Rebecca. “Sadly, they are ashes. After you were so mean to me that night, I had a pity party and set fire to everything I had that was yours and everything that reminded me of you.”
Michael stared at her in disbelief. “You burned my OktoberFest shirt? I got that in Germany!”
She grimaced. “Yeah. And
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