Father in the Making. Marie Ferrarella
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he thought with a small measure of triumph, that seemed to have managed to shut her up. “As it happens, I’m very much alive and intend to take care of Mickey on my own.”
She had no idea why he was here—possibly to ease his conscience, or maybe just to sell off Diane’s furniture. But there was no doubt in her mind that the man Diane had told her about would soon be off somewhere. Without Mickey in tow. Seeing as how he was a philandering womanizer, that would probably be all to the good.
Bridgette nodded, making no attempt to hide her skepticism. “Fine. How?”
There seemed to be no end to this woman’s audacity. “Excuse me?”
“How?” she repeated, slowly mouthing the word as if she were talking to someone with greatly diminished mental capacities. “What are your plans for him?”
He had barely gotten his head together and accepted the facts that Diane was dead and that he was a full-time father and had to change his entire life around. Restructuring Mickey’s life was something he hadn’t gotten around to, yet.
Blaine waved his hand around in frustration. “Beyond sending him to school tomorrow, I haven’t thought that out, yet.”
She was forced to step out of the way and toward him as the movers brought in a rather scarred-looking credenza. As soon as she could, she moved aside. She didn’t like standing so close to him. There was too much charged tension in the air.
“So, you plan to live here with him?”
“Yes.” He nodded, then shrugged. That, too, was up in the air. “For now.”
He made it sound tentative. Mickey needed stability. He needed a lot of things, especially a loving father, but at the very least, he needed stability. O’Connor owed him that much. If he didn’t think so, he was badly mistaken. And Bridgette would be the one to show him.
“I think you should try to make life as normal as possible for him.”
That was exactly why he was moving in. So why was hearing it from her lips setting his teeth on edge? Right about now, if she said snow was white, he would be tempted to shout that it was black.
“What you think is completely irrelevant to me, Ms.—look, what’s your first name again?”
“Bridgette.” She didn’t want him calling her by her first name. She wanted their relationship to remain completely formal. “Ms. Rafanelli will do just fine.”
The absence of Ms. Rafanelli would do even better, he thought. It was time to get on with the rest of his life and get her out of here. He took her elbow. “Well, thanks for coming.”
Bridgette eluded his hold. “I’d like to say goodbye to Mickey.”
If he let her go, there was no telling when she would leave. “I’ll tell him for you.”
The hell he would, she thought.
“Thanks, but I’d rather do it myself.”
With that, she hurried down the hall before he attempted to forcibly eject her. She wouldn’t put it past him. Any man who could neglect a child was capable of almost anything.
Bridgette stopped just short of Mickey’s doorway. Singsong music was coming out of the room. The door was slightly ajar. She pushed it open slowly with her fingertips. Inside, Mickey was sitting on the floor in front of a small portable television set. He was as erect as if a ruler had been inserted under his hockey team T-shirt. Bridgette quietly slipped into the room.
Mickey didn’t even notice her presence. His eyes were focused on the colorful screen, his finger mechanically pumping the buttons on the control pad.
He didn’t seem to be in the room at all.
Cry, Mickey, cry.
On-screen, a tiny gnome in green livery was valiantly attempting to rescue an equally tiny princess in a far-off castle. The gnome kept falling into the moat. Each time he did, another one of his lives was lost.
“How many points do you have?” she asked softly.
Mickey didn’t bother to turn around. It was as if he’d known she was there all the time. Known and hadn’t reacted. “Nine hundred and three. But I’ve only got one life left.”
He usually played very well. And likely as not, he would ask her to join him. He made no such request today.
“Better be careful then.”
There was nothing left to say for the moment. Mickey had completely withdrawn into himself. Maybe Jack was right. Maybe Mickey did need a little time to himself first. “I’m going home now.”
Mickey nodded. The gnome fell into the moat again. The sign Game Over flashed. He started a new game.
She wanted to sweep him into her arms again. To hold him and rock him and let him cry his heart out. Stymied, she remained where she was.
“If you need anything, my telephone number is number three on the ReDial.” She’d helped Diane program it. Diane had always been so lost when it came to anything remotely complicated. “Call me anytime if you need to talk.”
Mickey nodded again. She knew he wouldn’t be calling. At least, not for a while.
Bridgette felt awkward. She had never felt awkward with a child before, but then, there was the aura of a third party in the room with them. Death made her feel uncomfortable and at a loss.
“Anyway,” she said, backing up toward the door, “I’ll see you tomorrow after school for lessons.”
“Okay,” he mumbled to his control pad.
Bridgette was desperate to get any sort of reaction from Mickey. It was as if that one moment when he’d first seen her had been a slip. She saw no trace of the boy she knew. “We can go over a new song.”
“Okay.”
She sighed inwardly and retreated. She’d try again tomorrow. “Bye.”
He glanced at her for a moment, a troubled, lost soul, before returning to his game. “’Bye.”
Feeling frustrated beyond words, Bridgette turned and walked directly into Blaine. He’d been standing right outside Mickey’s room, obviously listening to every word. Needing a target, she selected him.
Bridgette pushed Blaine away, trying not to notice that she had experienced a definite reaction to brushing up against his very hard body.
“Why are you hovering over me?” she whispered angrily as she stepped to the side so that Mickey couldn’t hear them.
He had a question of his own. “Why are you coming back tomorrow?”
She had a feeling that he’d like nothing better than to bar her from Mickey’s life. Fat chance.
“I already told you. Besides being his godmother, I’m also his piano teacher. We have a lesson tomorrow.” She was determined to give the boy some semblance of order within the chaos he found himself in. It was a given that this man wouldn’t.
“I’m canceling it. You don’t have to come by.” The last thing he needed while he was trying to establish a fuller relationship with Mickey was to have her around, sniping at him.
Oh, no, it wasn’t going to be that easy. It wasn’t going to be easy at all. Getting rid of her was going to be downright impossible, she promised him silently. She had an emotional stake in Mickey. For his sake and Diane’s, she intended to be around.
“I’m paid up through the end of the month,” she informed him as she crossed to the front door. “I’ll be back.” She paused in the doorway and looked at him over her shoulder. “Some of us still honor commitments.”
There was no denying the fact that the woman was gorgeous, just as there was no denying the fact that she was a shrew. A pity.
“And