This time I felt it because certain things he’d said to me, and certain ways he’d looked at me, I realized belatedly that he’d noted I’d lost weight. Not only that, but he knew why.

And he was worried about me.

“With all that was happening, I lost track—” I started to explain.

He interrupted me gently, “Things are settling, so take better care. You with me?”

He was right. Things were settling.

I needed to take better care.

I nodded.

And that was when the date officially began.

We started talking and it came easy.

He told me even though Rhiannon had still not shown, Cill was “back on track” and both his kids were “gearing up for school.”

Then he’d made that settling feeling settle even deeper when his beautiful blue eyes got more beautiful when they became warm and intent as I shared the first real things with him about my kids; that Pippa had been upset not making the cheerleading squad and both of them were in cahoots with me to get my brother out for Thanksgiving.

“I get Thanksgiving this year,” I told him happily.

And getting this information, Mickey looked just as happy.

“Close with your brother?” he asked.

“Yes,” I answered. “Growing up, he could be an annoying big brother, but in our house, it was him and me. Dad was always working. Mom had other priorities. We were mostly raised by nannies who Mom thought it was her only motherly duty to find lacking, fire, then hire someone new we’d get used to right before she’d fire them. So we were smart and we were lucky, with only each other, we got close rather than stuck in our own worlds.”

“Good you had somebody,” he remarked and I grinned.

“Better because Lawr isn’t just the one who was there. He’s a good guy who cares a lot about his probably annoying little sister.”

“With only brothers, always wanted a sister,” he told me.

“Even having a great brother, I always did too,” I replied.

Things stayed easy as we got our steamers, then ate our chowder with Mickey ordering me another glass of wine when mine got low.

Through this, he shared about his work, mostly why he disliked his boss.

This was because his boss had underbid so rabidly on projects, he’d built almost a monopoly in the county. This he was able to do providing substandard materials. He also pushed his workers to finish the job quickly, cutting corners along the way, which meant not only the materials but the labor was substandard.

And Mickey was always foreman on the roofing jobs and sometimes foreman on the construction jobs. He didn’t like doing what his boss made him do. He didn’t agree with doing it. But it wasn’t his job to like it or agree with it. It was his job to do it.