“Yeah,” he muttered.

I fell silent and in doing so, listened to Mickey fall asleep. No brush of the lips. No goodnight.

Nothing.

It took me longer but I fell asleep with him.

Mickey woke me with his mouth on mine, his hands pushing my nightie up my back and his lips saying, “Did a walkthrough. They’re all out.”

Then he kissed me.

Even half asleep, it was a kiss from Mickey so I kissed him back.

And thus commenced Mickey making love to me.

This was a surprise. We had not had any kind of intimacy that wasn’t shared through cell towers for weeks. I thought it would be intense and fast and astounding.

It wasn’t. It was slow and reverent and sweet.

We’d taken our time before. We’d enjoyed each other lengthily and thoroughly. I loved it when Mickey guided it to that, just as much as I loved it when we went at each other like teenagers.

But when he finally let me finish and then I took him there, he tangled us together, murmured “’Night, Amy,” and I again listened to my guy drift off to sleep.

I didn’t sleep myself.

Not a wink.

Because I’d been made love to like that before. Not as good, but Mickey was better with everything.

It had been the night before Conrad left me.

So no, I didn’t sleep.

Not a wink.

* * * * *

“Okay, what is your problem?”

I jerked out of my reverie at Alyssa’s question.

She, Josie and me were sitting together having lunch at Weatherby’s. It was two days after Christmas. Mickey and his kids were returning the next day. My kids had ended their rift with their father and went to him the afternoon of Christmas day (as was his turn) and with my blessing had been staying with him since.

So I had been suddenly and unusually alone.

Alone enough to finally come to terms with what was happening.

The last real conversation I’d had with my guy, he’d shared that if what we “went the distance” he was moving his family into Cliff Blue with me.

But it bore repeating, that was the last real conversation I’d had with my guy.

He’d been gone for a week in Phoenix with his kids but even before he left, he had removed himself from me.

And after he left, I heard more from Cillian and Ash than I did from Mickey, not only through their constant communications with my kids via texts and calls, but directly to me (via mostly texts).

All I got from Mickey was such as, “Phoenix is great,” and “Cill kicked it in the flight simulator,” and “Yeah, I know we need to plan our Christmas thing. We’ll talk about it when we get back.”

There were no, “You’d love it here,” or “You should have seen Cill in that flight simulator,” or “Can’t wait to have our thing, baby, love you.”

In fact, there were no “love yous” at all.