Don’t Deny Me: Part Three Read online

  Dayna looked stunned. “Oh, my God. Oh, wow. Yes. That, all over. That, ten times. Paul never makes me feel important, and he sure as hell makes me feel sad.”

  The cheesecake arrived, and Alice dug in. The sugar sweetness did its best to chase away the sour taste on her tongue. But it didn’t help her to stop thinking about it.

  “Does Mick make you sad?”

  “He hasn’t yet,” Alice replied. “But I guess I keep waiting for him to.”

  “I’m not going to see him again,” Dayna said when a minute or so of silence had passed between them while they ate their cheesecake.

  Alice looked up. “What? Paul? Really?”

  “Yes. I’m done.” Dayna drew in a long, shaky breath, looking pleased. “Oh, my God, I never thought I would say that. All these years, the back and forth, on and off again. I mean, I didn’t see him for months or even years at a time, but I always knew we weren’t finished. He’d knock, I’d open the door. But now, what you said … I’m done.”

  Surprised and pleased, Alice sat back in her chair. “Wow.”

  “Shit.” Dayna looked surprised, too. “I really mean it. I feel it. It’s no good to love someone who doesn’t love you back. What good is it to open the door for someone who won’t bother to be there when you do?”

  Alice held up a hand for Dayna to high five. “No kidding.”

  “I feel like we need champagne or something for this revelation.” Dayna gave a shaky laugh, her gaze bright. She lifted her fork of cheesecake. “I guess we can settle for toasting with chocolate. To not putting up with shit.”

  “Yes.” Alice lifted her fork, too. “To all that.”

  * * *

  You know when you do something, even though you know you shouldn’t, but you do it anyway because it seems as though the benefits outweigh the potential for damage? Sometimes, it’s worth it and sometimes you end up wishing you’d been smarter. I think I’ve started wishing I was smarter.

  —Alice to Mick, unsent

  * * *

  “Hey, babe. It’s me. We’re starting Sunday dinner, just wanted to know if we should hold it for you.” Mick took the beer Jimmy offered him and made an apologetic face at his mother, who was pushing past him with a pan of roast beef.

  Alice sounded surprised. “What?”

  “I’m at Mom and Dad’s. Dinner?”

  “Mick, I’m just getting in the car to take Wendy’s kids to see a movie. I didn’t know I was supposed to come over to your parents’ house. I’m sorry.” Alice said something in a muffled tone to the kids, and then her voice came back more clearly. “You didn’t mention it last night.”

  “This morning I did,” he said. “I said see you later when I kissed you good-bye.”

  Alice made some more muffled noises and sounded disgruntled when she came back on. “You always say see you later. You didn’t say ‘see you later at my parents’ house for Sunday dinner.’ I didn’t know I was invited, and besides, I’ve had plans to take the kids to see this movie for a week.”

  “Oh.” Mick frowned, kind of pissed off that she hadn’t mentioned it before now. “My mom was expecting you.”

  “Tell your mother I’m sorry. I would’ve loved to come to dinner.” Alice paused. “Clearly we miscommunicated. Can I come next week?”

  “Yeah. I guess so. See you later … will I?”

  “I’ll be busy with the movie and dinner after until the evening, and then I have to run the kids back home. I’ll be home around eight, I think. But I’ll call you when I’m finished, okay?”

  His mom was giving him the “sit down, it’s getting cold” look now.

  “Yeah, fine. Okay. Gotta go.”

  Alice sighed and muttered something he didn’t think was to the kids. Louder, she added, “Talk to you later.”

  “She’s not coming,” he told his family. “Wires got crossed, she’s got plans with her niece and nephew.”

  “That’s nice, that she does things with her niece and nephew.” Mary gave him a pointed look, then at her own boys, who’d barely ever given Mick the time of day as little kids and sure didn’t now that they’d become teenagers. “What a nice break for her sister, to have a whole Sunday afternoon to herself.”

  “Her sister gets killer migraines, maybe you’d like one of those?”

  Mary rolled her eyes, but didn’t keep poking him. Dinner was good. It always was. And nobody pestered him about why Alice had made other plans instead of being here with the family, though her absence was keenly felt by Mick because of the empty chair next to him. He’d been looking forward to some of Mom’s amazing home cooking, then maybe hitting the hardware store later to pick up a new faucet for Alice’s leaking kitchen faucet. She hadn’t mentioned it, but he’d noticed yesterday that it dripped. He could fix that, no sweat, the way he’d taken care of her squeaking drawer and the oil change for her car. That’s what a man did, he took care of his girl.

  He could still do those things for her, he guessed, even if it wasn’t today. But that still meant he wasn’t going to get to see her, and that flat-out sucked. He checked his phone at the table, though his mom always scolded about that, but Alice hadn’t texted him.

  Jimmy and Jack argued about professional wrestling. Mary ignored her husband, who honestly probably didn’t give a damn that he was being given the cold shoulder. Dad shoveled food into his mouth as fast as Mom could put it on the plate for him, and Mom spent so much time getting up and down to bring stuff in from the kitchen that finally, Mick lost all patience.

  “Mom, sit, I’ll get it,” he told her when she’d hopped up for another set of serving spoons. “You sit.”

  In the kitchen, he got more spoons and another beer, then checked his phone again for a text. Still nothing from Alice. She was busy with the kids, he reminded himself.

  He wanted her there.

  “I wrapped this up so you could take it home,” his mother said in the kitchen as he was getting ready to leave. She pushed a plate of chicken and potatoes at him. “There’s plenty for you and Alice, too, if she’s hungry later.”

  “I’m not seeing her tonight, Mom.” Mick took the food, knowing it was too much. He’d eat some of it and end up tossing the rest.

  His mother didn’t look surprised. “Your dad likes her, you know. Alice. Says she’s a keeper.”

  “What? Dad told you that?” Mick couldn’t recall his father espousing an opinion on much of anything, much less Mick’s romantic partners. There’d been that awkward condom talk in high school, but beyond that, Dad had never even seemed to acknowledge Mick having any sort of love life.

  Mom, on the other hand, had always had an opinion about the girls Mick dated, especially, it seemed, the ones he did not bring home. Now she bustled around the kitchen, wiping at the counters. “Yep. Dad says she’s a smart one. I like her, too. It’s too bad she had plans today.”

  Mick frowned. “I didn’t know. I figured she’d come to dinner, Mom. I’m sorry.”

  “Oh, honey, I’m not mad.” His mom gave him a fond look and a shake of her head. “Next time, I’m sure you’ll give her plenty of notice.”

  From Mary the remark might’ve sounded snide, but Mick had never known his mom to be that way. Sometimes subtly passive aggressive, but never harsh. “She’ll come next week.”

  “That’ll be fine.” From the next room came raised voices, Jimmy and Jack shouting at the television, Mary shouting something at one of her sons. Mom gave Mick a long look. “You’re a lot like your dad, Mickey. You know that?”

  “I’ve heard it a few times, yeah.” Mick had his dad’s blue eyes and dark hair, but then, all the McManus kids did.

  His mom laughed and folded the dishcloth neatly before putting her hands on her hips. “Do you know that I almost married Gino Batistelli?”

  “Gino from Gino’s Dairy Dell? Get out of here.” Gino’s was the best hoagie shop back in his mom’s hometown. Mick hadn’t been there in years, not since Gam and Pap died.

  “Yes. Just think, I c