Leon’s expression grew sober, and he knocked back the drink he’d been holding even as it sweated in his fingers. “You, sir, are more than an ex-convict with no pedigree. And you’ve given me a very important lesson in remembering my place here.”
Michael didn’t know what he meant by that. “Well, in a few minutes, it’s going to be at the table, because these folks don’t let anybody go hungry.”
And at that moment, Phyllis came in, dressed in a white shirt with black pants, looking so miserably uncomfortable that Michael wanted to hug her. He’d never seen her in anything but snarky T-shirts and jeans.
“Dinner’s served,” she said brightly, and they all migrated to the table.
As they took their places, he held the seat for Molly, who grinned at him as she sat down.
“Did you see that, Stirling?” she asked, prodding her brother. “Did you see that? Those are moves. Would you like some moves, little brother? Because I’m not getting any action, so I need you to get some to show me what it’s like.”
Stirling regarded her with the narrow-eyed disgust that only siblings could show for one another. “My moves on a potential mate would be very different from Michael’s for a friend.”
“Still a move,” Molly told Michael. “A good one. Remember it for Carl. When are you going to pick him up, by the way?”
“Probably before we’re done with dessert,” he said, keeping an eye on the Picasso clock over the back wall of the dining room. He’d learned at the Art Institute that Chicagoans had a big ol’ crush on Pablo Picasso, and Michael finally understood why the blue clock with the weird-looking guy and the guitar had seemed like such a good idea to someone who looked as good as Julia Dormer-Salinger.
Phyllis overheard him as she was setting out a family-style salad bowl on their end of the table. “We’re having brownies and ice cream,” she said. “I’ll have Patty make you a care package—ice chest for the ice cream, Tupperware for the dinner, and a warm brownie. Carl will probably be starving. Nobody eats well when they travel.”
Michael grinned at her. “You are the nicest woman,” he said in complete admiration. “I would not have thought of that.”
“Of course you would have,” she said fondly. “You just wouldn’t have thought to ask.” With that she trotted back to the kitchen, probably to bring out a platter of something delicious, leaving Molly to laugh.
“What?” he asked defensively.
“She’s right, you know.”
“About what?”
“You wouldn’t ask for anything for yourself.”
Michael thought about that carefully as he took the salad bowl from Molly and dished himself up some on his own plate. “One thing,” he said, because his single-minded quest to get closer to Carl hadn’t gotten one bit less intense.
“Oh,” she said, winking. “As long as it’s important.”
Oh, it was.
JULIA INSISTED he drive one of the SUVs, so negotiating traffic at O’Hare was still horrible, but at least he felt like he had some power behind him as he wrestled with people who wanted to go one way when he had the right to go the other. He wasn’t Chuck Calder. He didn’t go Mach 5 with his hair on fire, and maybe part of that was that he’d had kids about three years after he’d learned to drive. It wasn’t his own mortality he worried about so much as it was the welfare of the people in the car with him.
But another part of it was confidence. Chuck had the confidence to stand on the accelerator and know the car was going where he wanted it to go as fast as he wanted it to.
But tonight, as Michael fought his oppressors… erm, battled the other drivers for spots and emerged victorious, he found that his desire to see Carl again gave him some ambition when it came to driving. He’d started out running about ten minutes behind, but he arrived at passenger pickup just as Carl emerged, a luggage cart in tow. Michael found a spot against the curb, put the SUV in park, and set the brake, and then he hopped out, hurrying to help Carl with his bags.
“Wow!” he said, grinning as he unlatched the back. “You weren’t kidding about moving in!”
Carl shrugged. “I mean, since I had the luggage, it made sense to fly it back full, right?”
“And there’s more to come?”
“I let the tenants keep the furniture,” he said. “I make a tidy little sum leasing the place to them. But my clothes and bedding and personal stuff I sent here. We should get some packing crates next week.”
As they spoke, they were hefting suitcases—a nice matching leather set—and stacking them in the back of the SUV. When they were done, Carl returned the luggage rack, and Michael slammed the hatch shut, shivering a little in the wind off the lake. It sure did get cold fast here.
Michael hopped back into the SUV at the same time Carl did but paused in the act of putting his seat belt on when Carl’s hand landed on his knee.
“Michael?”
“Yeah?” He turned, and for the first time really took Carl in—the dark blond hair, the sober green eyes, the square chin. He was wearing a hooded sweatshirt and jeans, and as it had before, the casual clothes touched something in Michael’s stomach, something warm, as though he was one of the few allowed to see under the armor of the suit. Carl’s lean mouth was curved softly up in a smile.
“You look really fantastic. It’s so good to see you.”
Oh! That was unexpected. He bit his lip. “I was gonna say the same,” he admitted shyly. “I-I mean, yeah, I’m gussied up. We had dinner with Leon, and Julia bought me some new clothes and all. But you… you look good even in blue jeans. It’s good to see you.”
Carl leaned forward, but Michael met him halfway, and the kiss, restrained as it was for the time and place, held such warmth, such promise, Michael’s eyes burned as they pulled away.
“Nice?” Carl asked, sounding uncertain.
“Fantastic,” Michael reassured. He straightened then and remembered his seat belt, making sure Carl got his on too. He pulled away from the airport, driving carefully and making his way through the light rain that had begun after darkness had fallen.
He had to be careful; he had something important in the car with him.
They spoke easily on the way to the city and the apartment. The habit they’d started the first night Carl had been away had served them well, and they’d fallen into a nice pattern of chatting about their day. Michael, who remembered this from being married, was reassured. He and Beth may not have had a complete marriage, but they’d cared about each other and had built a family together. The talking, even about small things, like the woman who’d sat next to Carl on the airplane and talked his ear off about her cats, was one of those things that made a relationship so much easier to sustain.
When they got to the building, Carl had Michael drop him off at the front door with the luggage so he could have the bellman get him a luggage cart. Then they met up at the apartment and continued their conversation as though they’d never stopped. They put together the care package from Phyllis, because she’d been right and Carl was starving, but Carl suggested they put the ice cream in the freezer and leave the brownie wrapped on the counter for later.