“Tonight, we had the drunk driving talk. They got me as in got me. Tomorrow, before I show you car salesmen are still assholes, I’m goin’ in and havin’ all my teeth pulled without Novocain. Figure that’ll be a whole lot more fun.”

“Oh, Mickey,” I said quietly.

“It’s done. They get me. All I can do. Movin’ on,” he stated.

“Okay,” I said and decided it was time to change the subject again. “So, I was thinking, the kids coming over and things going better, this keeps up for a little while, when they both say they’re coming over together, I can tell them about you. Then, the next time they’re over together, you’ll be here. We can see how it goes when they get here. A quick meet and greet or you casually stay for dinner.”

“Let me know, I gotta rearrange some shit, I’ll do it.”

He’d rearrange some shit for a chance to meet my kids.

And again I was floating.

“Thanks, honey,” I whispered.

“No problem, Amy. Now hate to cut this short, but wanna check on Ash. She’s been quieter than her normal lately and has been in her room all night. Gotta check on my girl.”

That didn’t sound good at all.

But it wasn’t surprising.

“Okay, I’ll let you go.”

“Sleep tight, babe.”

“I will, Mickey. See you tomorrow.”

“Yeah. And plan to be over for dinner. We’ll get your car, come back and hang out.”

I couldn’t wait.

“Sounds good. ’Night, honey.”

“’Night, baby.”

We hung up. I read a bit.

Then I went to sleep.

* * * * *

Mickey was right.

Car salesmen still screwed over women more than men. He got my Land Rover (I got black, Auden would just have to deal) for several thousand less than I could negotiate the deal.

Cillian and Aisling came with us and hung with me while I tried my hand at the negotiations. I asked for their company because I thought this was added incentive—kids in the mix—that would make the salesmen less inclined to screw me.

I was wrong.

Cillian gloated with his dad.

Through this and all the time I spent with her that day, I found Mickey was right, but it was more.

Aisling was quieter than normal to the point that she was unusually sullen.

It also looked like she wasn’t washing her hair.

This alarmed me.

But I didn’t have a chance to say anything about it until after we had dinner, Ash had retreated to her room and closed the door, and Cill had commandeered the TV to play some game on Xbox.

This forced Mickey and me to lounge on the loveseat on the deck in our jackets.

“She’s not good,” I noted.