The Next Best Thing

Chapter 20

It happened again about a week later. Gabe was staying with Emma on school nights to keep his schedule simple while Jake got his ducks in a row. The weekend arrived with Emma looking forward to having Mitch to herself, but he popped by on the Friday only to put off a sleepover because he wanted to work on his book.

"But you had all day to write," Emma pouted.

"I've discovered I write better at night," he said. "I'm on a real roll this week."

"I'm not going to bed early. Come and get me before you turn in."

"I just cracked open the Scotch for inspiration. I'm probably going to conk out at my desk."

"So you're just assuming I'll massage the kink out of your neck tomorrow?" Emma asked cutely. It was better than shouting, For the love of God, if it's over just tell me now!

"Won't ya?"

"We'll see," she said and kissed him goodnight.

It was not in her DNA to let anyone accuse her of being clingy. Not that she wanted to dive in front of him like a soccer goalie during the World Cup to keep him from leaving, but she did lock her door unhappily wondering, What kind of man waits seven days for sex he can have in six?

A grown man in his fifties, capable of passing the Marshmallow Test, maybe? One who, rather than losing romantic interest, just happened to be saddled with a girlfriend experiencing PTSD-related abandonment issues? Emma flip-flopped between worrying they were together only out of convenience, to worrying that Mitch liked things better when they had to sneak around behind a nine-year-old's back. Playing hooky and squeezing in the occasional nooner took effort!

She knew she was catastrophizing, but since the thoughts were there, she had to think them before she could tell herself she was being ridiculous. Because of course she was.

They spent all of Saturday and Sunday together, and Mitch spent lots of time with her and Gabe throughout the week. On Thursday, he surprised her with the Bahamas again, this time actually booking a four-day trip to Paradise Island after Christmas. Emma jumped up for a hug and squealed with excitement. "Thank you! You really did? For really real? Why?"

"'Cause I want to see what that cute little tush looks like with a tan," he said.

"Hey!" Gabe complained with his face scrunched up. "I'm still a kid, you know!"

"Gimme a break, Lancelot. Isla's taught you way worse than 'tush'," Emma teased him. She teased Mitch too, "No tan lines," she whispered, swishing her behind for him. She raced to her room to check if her last bikini was still wearable or had lost the will to live. Then, stretching the crotch of a pair of shell-pink bottoms, she thought confidently, This man's not going anywhere.

"That's interesting," Mitch said from the living room.

"What is?"

"The guys from the radio station cancelled our meeting tomorrow."

"They can't do that. Don't you have a verbal agreement or something?"

"They want to fly me out to Chicago next Friday instead."

"Chicago? Why?"

"It's where they're based."

"Ohhhh," Emma said. The bottoms slipped from her fingers and snapped back, whipping the corner of her eye.

****

Though Jake couldn't get his and Sophie's condo back for the remainder of three months' notice to his renters, the following week he found a furnished short-term rental apartment and moved Gabe in. Emma offered to hang on to Gabe's bed and dresser because there wasn't any need for it in the new place. Also, she didn't trust Gabe wouldn't need to move back in with her some day, so it was a sort of insurance, just like the custody hearing date she had yet to cancel.