We did this for half an hour before he stated, “Wiped, Amy. Gotta hit my bed.”

Obviously, without demur, since he was tired, I let him go.

The kids came back and we’d actually had a family outing, all four of us going to some burger shack out in the middle of nowhere that frankly was kind of scary (the being in the middle of nowhere business and the restaurant, which, even without me doing a full inspection, I knew had to be making a variety of health violations).

It could not be denied, however, that the kids loved it, the burgers were delicious and I loved family time with Mickey and his kids.

But outside brief phone calls and texts, that was it for that week with Mickey.

Now his kids were gone again. It was Tuesday, my kids were coming that weekend and my relationship with my own offspring meant that it was too early to add Mickey to that mix.

So we wouldn’t be seeing each other that weekend.

And it was nearly five and he had not called or texted all day. In fact, the last text I got from him was the day before at nine thirty in the morning that said, Need to make plans.

I’d replied, We do. Do you have some time off some evening this week?

I’d received no return text.

Nothing.

I didn’t wish to be a spoiled, selfish, dainty heiress, but if I was going to have a man in my life, I wanted to have a man in my life, not the specter of a man who became real only infrequently.

And I didn’t wish to allow Conrad to destroy the possibility of me finding something good and healthy (if Mickey and I miraculously found together time to actually build a relationship) by wondering what, precisely, was taking all of Mickey’s time.

The fact was he’d been with Bridget, the tall, buxom redhead. I’d mentioned her, but he’d said nothing about her.

Were they still dating?

Was she being fit in here and there, whenever Mickey had time not working, volunteering, fathering or being with me?

It had been a long time since I’d been in the dating game, but Mickey had told me to end it with Bradley. I did. It might be an incorrect assumption but Mickey, clearly not being tolerant of me being with another man when there was not one thing between us but a lot of arguing and a kiss, would lead me to believe I could expect the same and that, although relatively new, our relationship was exclusive.

Since I’d grown up, I would have broached this subject with Mickey just to make certain we were on the same page.

Unfortunately, I rarely saw Mickey in order to broach this subject.

But obviously, that niggled at me.

Was Bridget still in the picture?