Mister Nobody – Part 34 | What have you done to me? What have I done to you?

Lisa walked through the huge garden and headed straight to the front door of the mansion. The temperature had indeed dropped, and the sun had disappeared behind a blanket of grey clouds. The wind had picked up, it was chilly, and she was cold. It was somehow appropriate, given the direction the entire day had taken. It had started off so great, snuggling in bed with Michael, just cuddling, having breakfast there, allowing him to feed her those fantastic and luxurious cookies that Miss Emma had so kindly baked for them.

He had sauntered back into their bedroom, feet naked, hair wild, still wearing his jammies and that funny t-shirt that read “Dad to be – Now Loading – Please Wait”, a tray in his hands – warm cookies, coffee, fresh orange juice, a couple of those protein bars he had come to like. Those dark eyes of his were smiling down at her, and Lisa had thought that they were the most beautiful sight waiting for her, every morning. Ancient and new memories and sensations mixing so flawlessly – the last seven years just… dissipating, their ugliness, that darkness, that loneliness. Michael had swatted it all away. He had held out his hand to her, and she had stopped drowning. And he had, too. They had reached the shore, together.

As soon as he had kicked the door shut, Michael had swayed toward the bed while singing “I’ve got you under my skin” in a deep, crooner voice and she had laughed, softly, patting her hand on his side of the mattress and pulling the sheets back for him.

“Come sit here, Sinatra…”, she had laughed, “…And give me a kiss. Good morning…”.

Still singing, he had sat on the bed and had leaned over, kissing her gently on the cheek and Lisa had turned just enough to meet his lips. Her fingers in his hair, she had framed his face with both hands and then had softly showered his face with kisses, on his forehead and chin, on his cheeks and temples.

They had officially become sappy – and they loved every minute of it.

It had been, indeed, a perfect day. Until the bomb had detonated.

Lisa knew that Michael had forced himself to stay behind, when she had walked away, on the beach. She knew how difficult it was, for him, to just let go and stay behind, and wait. She was also aware that walking away was what she truly needed to do, the only thing she had left in that very moment. What Lisa was not entirely sure about, was that Michael had, in fact, understood why she had to take a few hours for herself. She would have explained it better to him – had she had the energy or the clarity of mind to do so. But she hadn’t.

What Michael had done for her was huge, and Lisa was well aware of it. She was incredibly grateful, albeit still upset about the whole thing. If anything, Michael’s actions had shown her, once again, how quick, efficient and lethal he could be, once he made up his mind about something. How powerful – mostly in terms of determination and brilliance, at this point – he still was, despite his doubts about it. If cornered, Michael would still strike hard. And only rarely he would miss the target. He had always been that way. That had never changed – it was more than evident now. Michael was still the strongest and bravest man Lisa had ever known.

Lisa was nothing but grateful for what he had done for her, for them, for their family, for their future. But she also needed some time to metabolize and process what had happened. His trip to another continent to fix a problem that, apparently, couldn’t be fixed. The potential risk of subjecting himself to such a feat. The result that his actions had generated.

The dossier – Mr. Gross had told Lisa about the information it contained, and she had felt sick to her stomach, nauseated. What kind of man had she been married to? How was it possible that she had been so blind? Sure, some of the things Gross had said weren’t exactly surprising, but some others… Somehow, they fit perfectly with the appalling, horrifying image her ex-husband had been giving of himself as of late. He, and the people surrounding him. Time and time again, they had shown they had no problem in using Lisa as a target, especially on the internet, with their not-so-veiled offenses, the slander, the lies. Lisa had never replied. She had remained stoically silent, showing more class than they could ever muster. But she knew Michael had read that stuff.

Lisa still remembered having walked into his studio one afternoon, finding him staring at the screen of his laptop. His face cold and perfectly still, brow furrowed, cheekbones flushed, lips pursed. She knew that expression. She had slowly walked around the desk he was sitting at, wrapping her arms around him from behind. For the short span of an instant, she had seen what he had been reading. Then he had just closed the browser and had grasped her arms, holding her close to his body. Under the palm of her hand, Lisa had felt his heartbeat. It was frantic.

He had stayed perfectly quiet, and she had tried so hard to make him relax. She knew exactly why he was so upset. Through the years, she had somehow gotten used to the unfair treatment she would often receive, especially online, but it was possible that only lately Michael had started to get interested in the subject. And it didn’t make him feel good.

Lisa had kissed his cheek and neck, softly, repeatedly, until he had let go a long sigh. Resting her chin on his shoulder, she had rubbed his chest.

“Come on… Let’s take a walk”, she had whispered, gently. And he had just nodded his head, without saying a word. They had walked hand in hand, quietly, just enjoying each other’s presence, on the beach, like they would often do.

A few steps away from the front door, Lisa stopped mid-step and closed her eyes, rubbing her forehead. The baby kicked, and her other hand immediately rested on her belly.

“It’s OK…”, she whispered, more to herself than to Kellan. “It’s all going to be OK… Daddy’s taking care of us, you know?”. Her vision blurred and she sniffled, pushing back the tears.

Daddy is taking care of us.

She needed to get away for a while. Be alone. Clear her head. And then she needed to go back to Michael, hold him, reassure him, tell him that she loved him. And that she was grateful. For everything.

She walked into the foyer and grabbed her purse, rummaged into it until her fingers finally closed on her car keys. Miss Emma’s voice startled her.

“Miss Lisa…”.

Lisa turned around and tried to look as calm and serene as she could.

“Oh… Hello, Miss Emma”.

“I’m sorry… I didn’t want to scare you… I just heard the door open, and…”.

“It’s OK…”, Lisa gave her a strained smile, and miss Emma frowned, just slightly.

“Where’s Mr. Ethan?”.

Lisa shifted on her feet, uncomfortably.

“He’s still at the beach… I guess he’ll be back soon”.

The frown on Miss Emma’s face intensified, and she nervously tugged at the dishcloth she had in her hands.

“Is… everything OK, ma’am?”.

Lisa blinked and smiled again, nodding her head.

“Yes… Yes, it is. I’m just gonna… you know, I am just going to town for a while… run some errands and… stuff…”.

“Stuff…”, Miss Emma replied, nodding her head mechanically.

“Yeah,” Lisa shrugged.

“Sure… Of course… You need any help? Want me to come with you, maybe?”, she asked softly. Cautiously. Oh, Miss Emma was an intuitive woman.

“No…,” Lisa kept her smile solidly in place and put on a heavier coat, then wrapped a scarf around her neck. “…Thank you, Miss Emma. Don’t worry… I will be back soon, I promise”.

“Alright, ma’am. You want me to say anything to… Mr. Ethan?”.

Lisa swallowed and blinked. How was it that the mere mention of him, although with his alternative name, made her feel so lacerated inside?

“Just that. That I’ll be back soon”.

Michael sat on the sand, his arms wrapped around his knees, staring at the sea. The sun had disappeared behind the clouds, and the weather had suddenly gotten chillier. He didn’t like the cold but, in that very moment, he didn’t care about shaking slightly. Nevertheless, he pulled up the collar of his coat and sniffled.

Well, all in all, it had gone well… not.

But at least Lisa had kissed him before walking away. He had forced himself to keep his feet rooted into the ground, as she watched her leave. She had looked so small, so lost and lonely in that very moment – his only instinct had been to just follow her, reach for her from behind and hold her, her back pressed against his chest, her petite frame safe and secure in his embrace. The only thing he had wanted to do, was holding her that way and telling her how much he loved her, that he was there for her, that she would never be alone again, that she was safe, that everything would be just fine, that he got her. It had been physically painful, for him, to watch her go and he had closed his fists, fighting the urge to be juvenile and impatient. Fuck maturity!

When she had disappeared from his view, it had been as if all his energies had been swept away, together with the waves crashing over the shore, and then pulling back into the darkest depths of the sea. He had felt suddenly tired, and that was why he had sat down, waiting for the exhaustion to scatter.

He just needed to give her a bit of time, a bit of space. She was upset, sad, worried, surprised – and so very pregnant. Where was she going to go, now? What was she gonna do? Without him.

Michael’s possessiveness. A well-kept secret, an apparently faint personality trait that could end up being overlooked. But extremely real, nonetheless, especially when it came to Lisa.

Biting his lip, he let go of his knees and pushed his gloved hands deep into the moist sand. Then he closed his eyes for a moment. Why, oh why, had he told her that he didn’t want to know what was in that dossier? He had no idea, he hadn’t spoken to Fahim since his trip to Oman. In fact, he hadn’t even been sure Fahim would be able to dig up something about that dude. But, judging from the expression on Lisa’s face while she was listening to Gross, he had a feeling Fahim had dug up a good amount of stinky manure. A real pile of shit. And that, indeed, had contributed to Lisa’s shock.

Well, apparently Michael’s intuition and perceptiveness had been right: he had never liked that dude, something about him had always rubbed him the wrong way and, eventually, the not-so-perfect husband had shown his true colors. Too bad the recoil had inevitably involved Lisa, too.

The dossier, now – It was… a necessary evil, somehow. Something that needed to be accepted to achieve what they wanted to achieve and move on. And Michael planned to be there for Lisa – she would never, ever again go through any pain on her own. Until his last breath, he would be with her. And he knew, she would be too.

He stood up, braced inwardly and headed straight toward the house, all the while repeating to himself, like a mantra, that he needed to let her have her space. That he didn’t have to push her, right now. That she would come around, eventually.

As he walked through the front gate, he noticed that Lisa’s car was missing. His heart sank, and he sighed. There was no point in trying to call her now. He was pretty sure she wouldn’t pick up the phone anyway.

Marcus, the gardener, just stood there, observing him from afar, a worried expression on his tanned, marked face. He waved his hand, hesitantly, and Michael took in a deep breath, walking over to him. Marcus had been working on the flowerbed that surrounded the beautiful fountain near the gate.

“Hello, Marcus…”.

“Sir…”. The gardener tilted his head and removed his gloves. They stared at each other.

“In case you’re wondering, Miss Lisa left about twenty minutes ago… She said she’ll be back soon”.

“Did she tell you where she was going?”.

“She told my wife… She said she needed to go to Edinburgh to run some errands and… stuff”. He sounded uncertain.

“Stuff?”.

“Yes, sir.”

Michael nodded his head and pursed his lips, pensively. His eyes lowered, and he stared at his own boots for a second.  Marcus’ gaze dropped, too, and he noticed Michael’s still wet pants.

“Did you step into the sea, sir?”.

“Yeah.”

“…OK”.

Classic man talk. No further information was necessary.

“Was she… upset?”.

Marcus sighed.

“Sir… You’d probably have to ask my wife, but… I’d say… maybe a little bit?”, he watched Michael, tentatively, “You know, she had that…”, he gestured toward his own face, “…that little wrinkle on…”.

“…her forehead. Yeah. I understand…”. This time, it was Michael’s turn to sigh. Lisa was upset alright. “Look, Marcus, can I help you? Do you mind?”.

Marcus’ bushy eyebrows sprung up in surprise, and he scratched his stubbly face.

“No… ah… I mean, I was just planting these bulbs all around the fountain so… yeah, of course, you can help, sir… Don’t you want to… you know, change your clothes first, maybe?”.

Michael shrugged and crouched down, his elbows resting on his knees.

“No need. Alright. Thanks, Marcus. You just go ahead… and I’ll do exactly what you do. If I mess it up, just tell me, OK?”.

Marcus grinned. He was tall, burly, a bit shabby, but his bright green eyes were sharp and intelligent. Also, there was a softness about him that both Michael and Lisa liked especially, and that he shared with his wife, Miss Emma. They were a lovely couple. So different, yet so similar. Perfect for each other.

Michael and Marcus started planting the bulbs, using their hands, digging little holes in the soil. Within a few minutes, Michael realized that he was feeling slightly better, less tense, more in tune with his thoughts. It was the material sensation of what he was doing, the direct contact with the earth – there was nothing more real than that. It grounded him, it helped him clear his mind.

They stayed quiet for a while, just working, peacefully.

“Sir?”.

“Yes?”.

“You’re a good man.”

Michael snorted, slightly. Was he, really?

“You think?”.

“I do. You and miss Lisa are nice people. Emma and I love working for you…”, the gardener wiped his sweaty forehead with his forearm, “We’re not young fellows, and it’s hard for people our age to find such a gratifying job… You and miss Lisa gave us this opportunity, and we’re so grateful… This place… it feels like home, to us”.

“Age is nothing but a number, right?”, Michael replied, his eyes fixed on the soft, delicate bulb in his hand. “Plus, you’re both seasoned professionals. Miss Emma is a fabulous cook, and you’re one of the best master gardeners I’ve ever met… So… It’s a pleasure, really”.

“Thank you, sir…”. Marcus reached over and moved the soil, guiding Michael’s hand. “There you go… Remove those rocks over there… dig the soil, so it’s loose and workable… it has to be nice and soft for that little thing to grow… Bulbs are strong, yet so delicate… They have to be treated right… like women… Alright… That’s it, sir. You can set it, now… roots down so it can find its way up on its own… Perfect”.

They glanced at each other and grinned.

“See? Easy-peasy, right? They’re gonna make a great garden color, sir. You’ll see”.

Michael stared into Marcus’ eyes and knew that he had perceived his anxiety and sadness and was trying to comfort him in the only way he knew. Gratefulness was all he felt for this old man who, quietly, and together with his wife, was slowly becoming part of his and Lisa’s new life.

“What are we planting, by the way?”.

Marcus laughed.

“A lot of stuff… Lilies… Callas… Dahlias… Shamrocks… Many colors. Miss Lisa loves her garden colored”.

“I know,” Michael smirked, remembering the many hotel rooms she had filled with flowers – sunflowers, especially – wherever he was, all around the world, just to make him feel a little more like home. While they were married… and afterward, too, sometimes.

They kept working for long minutes, and Michael stopped being cold. Suddenly he realized that he was sweating, and mirrored Marcus’ gesture, wiping his forehead with his forearm.

“You know… I was an idiot, once, and I let Emma go… I let her slip away…”, Marcus murmured, pensively, all the while working the soil with both hands. His movements quick and flawless, like those of a machine. “…I thought it was for the best, so I just… left”.

“You fell in love with someone else?”, Michael asked, and the gardener scoffed.

“Oh yeah… I fell in love with a beautiful lady called Drambuie…”, he glanced at Michael and noticed the puzzled expression on his face. He smirked. “…It’s a liqueur… aged scotch whiskey, smooth heather honey, spices… A great fling that distracted me from what was really important in my life”.

Michael turned serious and nodded, then resumed working quietly.

“…And then one night I was at the bar… All alone… shitfaced drunk, and all of a sudden I found myself staring at my own hands…”. Marcus stopped and turned his palms up, reliving the moment in his mind, his eyes distant. “…My big, strong hands… They were trembling… And just like that, I realized that… the only thing those hands should have done was holding onto Emma… Not a glass… And I had let her go instead…”.

Michael rested both his knees on the ground and turned his head to Marcus.

“I lost two years of my life that way. Two full years away from my wife… two years made of nothing… giving priority to something that was not so important after all… While she was all alone… worried about me… Knowing that I was drowning in something that was not good for me… And when she had tried to tell me, I had pushed her away… Realizing that was horrible, sir…”.

Oh, Michael knew the feeling. That loneliness. The wrong priorities. He blinked, frowning.

“And you know what happened when I came back to her, after pulling my shit together? Excuse my French, sir…”.

“No… What happened?”.

Marcus’ eyes softened.

“She took me back. Amazing, don’t you think? She had all the right to slap me and tell me to get lost and instead… she forgave me. Can you imagine? She was able to forgive me and, since then, I have been dedicating my whole life to make sure that she knows she did the right thing, you know?”. He took another bulb from the box. “I know she hasn’t forgotten. And after a while… I understood that remembering what went wrong is not a problem, as long as you can do better…”.

“Yeah…”.

“Anyway… We were able to move on and… Yeah, she still gets all feisty on me, yells, sometimes takes off for a while when I really, really piss her off but eventually… we know where our place is. We both do”.

“I think we do, too.”

Marcus’ green eyes looked mischievous and so very young now, almost boyish.

“See? Miss Lisa will be back soon, sir. And if she’s mad at you, you can always tell her that you made sure she’s gonna have a beautiful garden this next summer… when your little one will be born… Sometimes we really don’t need much, to be happy”.

Lisa drove back home slowly, glancing at the beautiful orange skies in the rearview mirror. The sun was setting, and she had somehow managed to reconcile with herself and make peace with the upsetting events of the day. Maybe not entirely, but stopping on her way to Edinburgh, pulling over near the woods, getting off the car and immersing herself in the wilderness, had helped. A little detour to allow herself to just let go for a minute. To just let it all go.

Crying her heart out, both in pain and love, while sitting on a massive rock under a humongous oak, had contributed to her relief, too. Her eyes reddened and swollen, at one point Lisa had found herself staring at the bark of the massive tree. It looked like an ageless, sad face, staring back at her. Absent-mindedly, Lisa had stretched out her hand and had rested her palm there, against the cold, irregular, damp wooden surface. Then she had cried some more. Surprisingly enough, her outburst had been silent, not a sob, not a whimper, just infinite sets of tears running down her cheeks. She didn’t even know why she was crying exactly, the conglomerate of emotions too intricated and complex to be adequately discerned, pushing and pulling at her in so many different directions.

What she did know, was that Michael would have gone absolutely nuts knowing she was in the woods, all alone and upset.

Suddenly, Lisa had remembered a dream she had had, right after moving to Peterhead, but before Michael moved there, too. In her dream, she stood right in the middle of the cold and deserted garden of her house, under a steel grey sky that reminded her of a stormy sea. Her arms crossed over her chest, uselessly trying to protect herself from the chilly wind, she had felt utterly lost and alone. For a moment she had been afraid she was going to vanish in the wind and just disappear forever, like dust. What had been even scarier than that, was that a part of her had welcomed the thought with immense relief and gratitude. No more pain. No more loneliness. No more loss. Just the infinite, eternal nothingness. An empty space, where maybe she would be finally able to rest, and where she would possibly find him, too, waiting for her. How she missed him.

Then she had felt a warm hand on her shoulder, and she had turned around, finding herself face to face with Michael. He had looked down at her, his eyes darker than she could remember, unreal, surreal in their beauty, his long, curly dark hair ruffled by the wind. The hint of a smile had appeared on his lips, and she had realized that she hadn’t been given a chance to see him like that in the real world – the way he looked right before passing away. Mature and beautiful, albeit tired a little too angular. And yet, he was still the most gorgeous creature she had ever laid eyes on.

“Do you remember my name?”, Michael had asked, and his voice had sent shivers down her spine.

Lisa had just stared at him. The words were there, but she couldn’t let them out. She wanted so much to just reach out and bury herself into him, rest her face against his chest, feel his arms around her body, reveling in his warmth. But she couldn’t move.

Placing both hands on her shoulders, Michael had kept smiling.

“Have you forgotten?”.

No, no. Never. How could she?

“Lisa Marie… Please… don’t forget about me”.

The dream had ended abruptly, and she had woken up, immediately sitting up on the bed, bathed in sweat and breathless. She had no idea what it meant, or if it had any meaning at all. Now, suddenly, she wondered if that dream hadn’t been some sort of premonition. After all, Ethan was just behind the corner at that time. And right after meeting him, Lisa had thought – well, she had merely assumed what Michael had wanted her to believe. That he was another man.

But maybe the most ancient part of her had felt him, right from the get-go, even before he appeared in her life once more. Perhaps she had somehow sensed his presence, his aura, orbiting closer and closer to her again. It had always been that way, after all. She and Michael had always been profoundly connected, to a level that was almost scary at times, to a degree that defeated time, space, and even life and death. The mere thought, now, forced Lisa to swallow a new set of tears.

He was a whole universe.

Michael the lover. The friend. The husband, ex-husband. The reliable partner. The reckless man when cornered. The father. The dad-to-be. Michael the classy, mature, bearded art dealer, Michael the eternal icon forced to become someone else just to have the chance to keep living. The genius artist. The humanitarian. Michael, the man who had been able to change and remain the same, all in one, solid package.

Michael the breakfast-maker. Michael the silly goofball. Michael the shrewd and sharp businessman. Michael the fighter.

Michael the fixer.

As the forest sang its tune to her with its quiet voice made of rustling leaves and wind, Lisa had closed her eyes and shaken her head. Then she had gotten up and had walked back to her car.

Michael glanced at the huge windows in the gym and noticed the sun setting, all the while thinking that taking that shower, after working with Marcus for about two hours, had been a bit redundant.

He hadn’t been able to relax in the slightest, and now he stood in the portion of his L-shaped dance studio that he had re-designed for his daily workout routine. It used to be a pretty wide changing room when he had first bought the house and, now, it was perfect to store his equipment. Pull-up bars, a rowing machine, a bench press, an elliptical. Michael hated that shit, really, but right now he needed to decompress a little bit. It was starting to get late, and Lisa hadn’t come home, yet.

After working in the garden, Michael had taken his time to shower, shave and groom a little, just to keep himself busy. It hadn’t really worked, and he was still erratic afterward. He had, therefore, chatted with Miss Emma for a little while, keeping things nice and smooth, pretending to not notice the slightly worried expression on her face, had thanked her for the delicious dinner she had prepared for him and Lisa and finally had said goodbye to her and Marcus.

Alone in the huge mansion, he had started to pace back and forth in the living room, phone in his hand, biting his lip, unsure if he should call Lisa or not. Eventually, he had called – of course, but it had gone straight to voicemail. Debating internally if he should leave her a message of not, Michael had hung up. More pacing had followed.

Alright. That was it. His patience and tolerance had dropped suddenly, together with the light of day. If she weren’t back in an hour, Michael would call the police. She was pregnant, and she was all alone, and it would be pitch-black outside, soon.

After a while, the gym had seemed the best solution to release some steam. Now, after a proper warm-up, he walked over to the bench press and lay down, feet firmly planted on the floor. He un-racked the bar with straight arms and lowered it to his mid-chest with a grunt. He just stood there, hanging on, for a bunch of seconds, frowning, and finally pressed the bar back up, straightening his arms. His back distended but didn’t hurt – it was funny how his chronic pain had gone better, with regular and adequate exercise. Sex included.

Michael kept going, his chest, shoulders, and triceps burning after a while. Inhale, hold, exhale. Inhale, hold, exhale.

After a double set of exercises, he let the bar fall back on the rack and rubbed his hands on his face. He was wired.

No. This was not working. Not tonight. The Murphy method couldn’t do, this time.

Shaking his head, Michael sat up and rested his hands on his muscular thighs, staring into space, pouting and blinking.

He really needed to go back to basics. To calm down, and to not allow any more dark thoughts or fears to enter his mind, he needed to disengage entirely and enter another level of consciousness. He needed to dance.

Having finally made up his mind, he headed straight to the dance studio and put on some workout music.

For a few minutes, he just stared at himself in the mirror, just contemplating his potentiality. Then he finally closed his eyes and started to dance, guided only by instinct and by that innate talent that was rooted deep into his DNA, that not even the passing of time could defeat. As he got lost in the music and the rhythm, his spirit and mind went somewhere else, soaring to a place where nothing was wrong, ever.

Lisa watched Michael dance from the door frame that led to the dance studio. She had a feeling he was working out in his gym and instead… there he was. So gorgeous, wearing athletic pants a black t-shirt, looking different and yet just the same, as if years hadn’t passed for him. She was mesmerized.

He was not as fast as he once had been, but his movements were still effective, flawless and fluid, and it looked like gravity didn’t apply to him. His feet glided on the smooth wooden surface, and she noticed that he didn’t really need to keep his eyes open, to dance – he was perfectly balanced, his body toned and responsive to the bassline and to the pounding rhythm of the drums. Michael was still an alien, by some means. A beautiful, supernatural being.

Michael didn’t dance. He was the dance.

Lisa had arrived home about twenty minutes earlier. She had heard the music coming from the exercise area but, quietly, had climbed up the stairs, heading straight to their bedroom instead. For a moment, she had thought about taking a shower, but her longing for Michael hadn’t allowed her to wait any longer.

Her time on her own had been necessary, even if she had missed him terribly, every single minute she had been away. While she aimlessly strolled through Edinburgh, she had called Riley, telling her what was going on – and her daughter had sounded horrified at what was in that dossier, although Lisa had been vague about it. At the same time, Riley had sounded utterly relieved the moment she had come to realize that Michael had actively stepped in to help her mother.

“Mom – he’s always been like that, you know that… Why are you surprised? I’m not…”, she had said. “…It’s just the way he is. You’re lucky, can’t you see that? He just wants to help… let him! Plus, what he did is quite romantic. He loves you, mom…”.

Incredibly, Lisa’s phone call to her mother had followed more or less the same script. Of course, Priscilla hadn’t sounded enamored with Michael at all, and her words had been cold, analytical, even.

“Lisa Marie, I don’t get why you’re upset with him… this time. He actually did something completely unselfish. Once again. Surprisingly, I might add. If I were you, I’d benefit from it – as long as you’re sure it’s safe to do that. Get rid of that blond leech, now that you can. How’s your pregnancy going, by the way?”.

Shaking her head at the memory of her mother’s words, Lisa had gotten undressed and freshened up a little and then had noticed one of Michael’s shirts, carelessly thrown on a chair. He was still so messy, her crazy man.

Her fingers had closed on the soft, white fabric and she had brought the shirt up to her face, smelling it. Michael’s scent was familiar and intoxicating in the best way possible. It was home. Lisa had put on the shirt and had left the bedroom, slowly climbing down the stairs and heading straight to the gym.

Now she allowed herself to watch him quietly, from her privileged corner in the back of the room. The way his body moved felt like a message delivered in Morse code: Michael was not afraid to dare, no matter the cost. At times she had hated that about him, she had called him reckless, brazen, irresponsible even. And yet his tendency of taking risks was what had pulled her away from her first marriage, sending her straight into his arms. More recently, it had been a means for them to reconnect. Possibly, that same personality trait was also the reason why he was alive. And now, it had become the turning point in her nasty divorce. Michael would call those “calculated risks,” even when Lisa didn’t agree with him.

Yet, what she realized as she watched him, getting lost in the perfection of his dance steps, transfixed on the expression on his face – a mixture between agony and ecstasy as if he was making love – was that it was her turn to take some risks. Because this was their new beginning and also their last chance. The only thing Michael was asking her, with his actions, was to trust his intuition fully, to have faith in him and allow him to do what he thought was right.

As those thoughts still swirled into her head, the music subsided, and he walked over to the plush couch in the corner, grabbing a washcloth and dabbing his face, still oblivious to her presence. Then, as if he had somehow sensed her behind his back, his eyes flew up abruptly, and he stared at her in the reflection of the mirror.

Lisa couldn’t help but smirk, a rush of heat running through her.

“Still got that Spiderman hearing, um?”.

Michael’s face distended in a smile.

“I heard you breathing…”.

She just stood there, leaned against the wall, as he took in her appearance.

“That’s my shirt, by the way…”.

“Yes, it is…”.

It was indeed his shirt she was wearing. And nothing else. Through the mirror, his eyes roamed all over her body, lingering a little bit longer on her beautiful, toned legs.

Lisa, too, observed him. Michael’s back was still turned to her, and she could see his sweaty t-shirt adhering to his body, his perfect ass. Even after all this time, this man turned her on immensely, and she wasn’t even surprised. She had long surrendered to the intense sexual desire she felt for him. That reciprocal connection had been both their agony and their ecstasy since the beginning of their long history, had studded every minute of their life together. Or apart.

Michael finally turned, tossing the washcloth back on the couch, then walked over to her slowly. His breath was still a bit uneven after his intense exercise.

He stopped right in front of her. Close enough for Lisa to notice the damp strands of hair on his forehead and temples, his sweaty neck, the darker areas on his t-shirt.

“I was worried, Lise…”.

“I know… I’m sorry”. Her tone was soft, and although Michael’s voice sounded calm and collected, possibly a bit miffed, his eyes were a dead giveaway. They were soulful, alternating sweet, loving glances with smoldering looks. Lisa’s arousal amped up a little more.

“I was gonna call the police, ya know?”. Another step forward and he was almost in her personal space. His hand reached up and brushed her cheek. “I was crazy worried, girl… where were you?”.

“Around…”.

His eyebrows shot up.

“Around? Doing what?”.

Lisa shrugged, vaguely.

“Nothing, really… You know me… I just needed some alone time”. She leaned into his touch. “I love watching you dance… You’re amazing, Michael. You’re magical”.

His eyes softened even more, and his other hand rested on her belly.

“How’s little man?”.

Lisa glanced down and covered his big, strong hand with hers. Their hands – they looked so good together. Connected.

“He’s fine. I guess he missed his daddy, today… just like I did”.

Michael swallowed and squared his jaw, composing himself.

“I missed you too… so fucking much…”.

Her fingertips tingled with the desire of just grabbing him by his t-shirt and pulling him into her. She wanted to kiss him with every fiber of her being, and yet she held back. They needed to talk – to put everything out in the open, first. They needed to close this chapter and move on. There was nothing she wanted more than that.

“What’s in that dossier… is it real? Is it made up?”, she asked, evenly.

“Do you really think I’d ever fabricate anything like that? After what I had to go through?”. His voice didn’t sound indignant nor outraged, just honestly curious.

Lisa let out a dry, joyless chuckle.

“No… I know you wouldn’t. I wanted to ask anyway because… well, Michael, I guess you know that’s quite a bitter pill to swallow… what’s in that folder…”.

Michael’s eyes kept studying her, almost analytically.

“I can imagine. But I have no idea what’s in there. I never asked”.

“And you don’t wanna know?”. It was her turn to study him, now.

“Not now. The last thing I wanna do is talk about that man… I only care about you, so… just tell me this… was it bad?”.

“Yeah…”.

“How bad was it?”.

Lisa didn’t answer, and her silence spoke volumes. She bit her lip and stepped forward, wrapping her arms around his waist and resting her cheek against his chest. For a moment Michael stiffened and was going to tell her that he was all sweaty, but then he remembered that Lisa didn’t have any problem with that. Quite the opposite, in fact. His arms, too, closed around her small body and he inhaled deeply, then let go a long sigh, kissing the top of her head.

She spoke while keeping her face pressed against him.

“Only you could do this…”.

“This… what?”, he whispered, softly, his mouth still in her hair.

Lisa pulled back slightly and looked up at him.

“This. Only you could find a way to fix something that’s been pulling me down for so long. Truth is, I was scared, Mike… Even Gross sounded like he didn’t know what to do. It was real bad. I didn’t feel like I had any way out, it looked like I could only parry or sidestep his attacks and I was wondering, you know…”. Her eyes closed and she shook her head. Michael felt her tremble and held her closer. Yeah. She was wondering how she would survive losing the twins, in the hypothesis she wasn’t going to get full custody.

Well, fuck that! And him, too! Not in a million years!

“You just have to call Gross and tell him to go ahead… and use the information he has now. It’ll make a difference, I guess…”. He kept his voice low, even, controlled. The anger he still felt barely restrained behind the heaviest curtains of his soul.

“And you don’t care about your name being linked to it, if anything leaks?”.

Michael snorted, dryly.

“My name? Whatcha talking about, girl? Ethan has nothing to do with this… Thus, little ol’ me has nothing to do with this shit, either… I told you… I am just the guy who loves you… I’m nobody”.

Lisa’s grip around his waist tightened.

“There’s something I haven’t told you, Mike, about this… about all this…”.

He blinked and pulled back, his head tilting to a side, his eyes serious, studying her intently.

Lisa’s aqua orbs shone. Her hands cupped his face.

“Thank you.”

She suddenly felt almost at peace. She had been good at managing her pain and even her anger, but this – this was a bundle that was difficult to unravel. Too many emotions mixed together. Shame. Gratitude. Love. Pride. Relief. But at least she was no longer alone, facing them.

“I just need you to understand that, although I’m not sure I’d allow any more stunts like this –.“

“But Lise, it wasn’t risky, I wasn’t-,” he tried to object. Lisa’s hand rested on his mouth, gently, silencing him, yet her eyes stayed soft.

“Please, Mike… I beg you, don’t do anything like that ever again. Please. OK?”.

He stood perfectly still, just staring at her.

“Although I need you to stop putting yourself out there like that, I know that only you had the power to fix this… To swat away the external nuisance…”, she gave him a strained, fatigued smile, “…Tell me, Michael… you gonna keep swatting left and right, from now on?”.

She removed her hand from his mouth.

“Babe… I ain’t gonna lie about that. I’ll probably do it if necessary”.

Lisa sighed.

“You are a tough nut to crack, huh?”. God, how she wanted to kiss him. “…You think you can at least talk to me about it, first?”.

“I can try,” he grinned, cockily, lopsidedly, and she scoffed, shaking her head.

“You really are something… I get what you did, though, and why you did it. I really do, baby…”.

“I should have done it a long time ago. If only I had done something like that when we were married, maybe we…”, he just trailed off, his eyes lowering. “…I’ve spent my entire life bottling up… I kept bottling up for so fucking long, Lise… One shit sandwich after another… Just because I wanted to be the good guy…”.

“But you are a good guy, Mike. You’re the best man I know”. She framed his face once again and forced him to look at her, then smiled at him. “You are old-fashioned and charming, and sweet, and adorable.”

“And tired. No more concessions for these motherfuckers, no more reprieve. I’m done being good”. He closed his hands around her waist and held her, his grip suddenly firmer, stronger. He squared his jaw, and the pull of his eyes became almost magnetic. “You know what I want, Lise?”.

He heard her breathing accelerate slightly. Lisa kept her hands on his chest.

“No… what do you want, baby?”.

“I want to turn back time and do everything right. I wanna be 35 again and go away and take you with me, just the two of us, away from everything, from all of them…”, he closed his eyes for a moment and inhaled deeply. “…But I can’t… It’s too late for that… What I can do, is making the right choices now. To keep us all safe. To keep you safe… Maybe I’ve really changed, but I no longer feel the need to avoid confrontation. If I hold back, I only do it for you. And I love that you never let me get away with anything Lise, don’t get me wrong, I really do, but… if someone… anyone… threatens us or what we’re trying to build, here… I’m gonna try to smash them, no holds barred”.

Lisa swallowed.

“You don’t have to prove anything to anybody, Michael,” she murmured, her voice breaking.

“Indeed.” He squared his shoulders and tilted his chin up, looking down at her, silently letting her know that proving himself was not at all what all of that had been about.

Oh, but she knew.

“I am ashamed of myself, you know…”, in perfect contrast with his proud stance, Lisa’s gaze dropped. “Ashamed of having married him… of having you do everything… buying this house… having to deal with all this shit because I couldn’t take care of it myself…”.

Michael pulled her closer and lowered his head, intercepting her eyes.

“Hey… hey… stop it. Don’t do that. Don’t say that, Lise. Look at me…”. His voice softened. “…Look at me, baby”.

Finally, she brought herself to look up at him. Her eyes were bright and sorrowful.

“I am so sorry, Mike…”.

He just shook his head and hugged her. When she let out a quiet sob, he held her close.

“You have nothing to be ashamed of. You took care of me in one of the worst moments of my life… when everybody abandoned me, you were there, holding me, comforting me, believing in me… loving me, choosing me… remember that, Lise?”.

“It doesn’t matter.”

“It does. It does to me”. He pulled back and wiped her tears with his thumbs. “And you love me, don’t you? You’ve always loved me”.

“Fuck, of course, I do… I love you so fucking much, you have no idea… I’ve loved you all along”, she shook her head and squeezed her eyes shut for a moment. Michael smiled, very softly, his hand resting on her belly once again.

“Then it’s gonna be OK… can’t you see that?”. This time, he leaned over and placed a soft kiss on Lisa’s lips. They were motionless, warm and soft, their taste inebriating. Michael backed off slightly, just staring at her mouth for a moment, then kissed her again, lightly. And again.

He framed her face with both hands.

“Open up, baby… kiss me… come on…”. Once again, he captured her mouth with his. “…Come on, baby… Please…”.

This time she complied and her lips parted, their tongues meeting in a slow, sensual kiss. When Lisa spoke, it was almost against his mouth, and her breath was already uneven.

“What happened in Oman… does it have anything to do with your marriage proposal? The timing seems…”, another kiss, her arms snaking around his neck, the temperature of her body suddenly rising. “…suspicious…”.

“You think?”, Michael smiled against her lips and started to drag her toward the couch, slowly, all the while kissing her, kissing her, kissing her. “…Mh… Yes and no… I didn’t want you to think I had forgotten about your ring…”.

He buried his face in the crook of her neck and inhaled, deeply.

“You smell like the sea, baby… God, I need you so fucking much it hurts… I missed you like crazy, today…”.

Just being like this with him made her feel protected and sheltered like she hadn’t felt in a very long time. For the first time in hours, Lisa started to relax, sorrow and regret becoming annoying noises in the background of her soul. Bothersome, yes, but no longer lethal.

Still kissing her, he sat down on the couch and positioned her in between his open legs, his hands on her hips, his dark eyes looking up at her. His fingers skimmed on the smooth skin of her thighs, then on the still perfect globes of her ass and Lisa’s eyelids fluttered closed.

“No… Look at me…”.

Swallowing, she obliged.

He undid a couple of buttons of her shirt, from the bottom up, and all the while his eyes never left her. He had been dancing in the dimly lit studio, and now the moonlight touched his face with its white fingers, making him look almost ethereal, and otherworldly beautiful. Yet his touch and the heat emanating from his body were more than real.

“I’m gonna make love to you right here, Lise… right now… and I want you to look at us…”. His lips rested on her belly, and the feeling of his soft beard against her skin made her tremble. “See these mirrors? They hide nothing… Watch…”.

As he started kissing her stomach and sides, his fingers hooked the skimpy fabric of her G-string and slowly pulled it down, sliding it along her thighs. Lisa caught her breath and held onto Michael’s shoulders as he dropped to his knees and sat back on his heels.

She stepped out of her underwear with a long sigh, wanting more than anything else to be taken by him, to be filled by him, to relinquish all control, to give him all the power over her. Instinctively, her legs parted the moment his fingers stroked her core gently, and her head fell back. She moaned, softly, her hand immediately resting on Michael’s head, closing in his curls, pulling him into her, as her hips pushed forward, meeting him halfway.

“God, baby girl… I can feel your arousal… You’re so soft… so smooth… so hot…”.

When his lips touched her, kissed her, when the warmth of his tongue enveloped her, she opened her mouth to let out a whimper that didn’t come. He let her feel every single stroke, each movement deliberate, slow, careful. Without even realizing what she was doing, she pulled at the fabric of his t-shirt, and he immediately helped her out, taking it off. He stood up and towered over her, and she caressed his naked back, her fingernails gently scraping his sides, gliding on his flat stomach, reaching his chest and tracing his muscles. Lisa stepped into him and kissed his neck, slowly, her tongue tasting his salty skin, its flavor and scent intoxicating. She felt his hardness press against her stomach and backed off gently, her gaze immediately dropping. She couldn’t help but smirk at the amazing tent she noticed in his pants.

He guessed her thoughts and grinned.

“You get me all kinds of sprung, baby girl…”.

“Still?”, Lisa’s eyebrows shot up in moderate surprise.

“You kidding? Always…”. He kissed her again, deeply, deliberately, then turned her around and pulled her into him, his chest pressing against her back. They were facing the mirrors, now, and she could feel his chest rising and falling, his labored breathing. They stared at their reflections, locking eyes.

“Look at us…”, Michael whispered, pushing her shirt off her shoulder and nibbling at her skin, “…Look at what we’ve become… who we are now… We are the proof that we survived…”.

One hand dipped into her neckline, cupping her breast, her nipple pressing into his warm palm, while his other hand reached around and went in between her legs, stroking her the way he knew she loved. Lisa moaned, her head falling against his shoulder.

“We are so beautiful, Lise…”, his voice was low, deep, seducing, his fingers playing her like the most amazing instrument that she would always become in his hands, “…We are one… We are forever… We will always be…”.

Tenderness and passion mixed dangerously and the last ounce of Lisa’s resistance, if there ever was some, shriveled and disappeared as pure heat engulfed her. He had disarmed her, completely. He owned her. She was his.

Still staring at him in the mirror, she reached back and grabbed his turgid member, rubbing him through his pants, her other hand bracing on his firm thigh. She felt his muscles twitch under her touch and smiled, breathlessly, when he closed his eyes in rapture. Power was always a delicate balance, a swinging pendulum, apparently.

“There you are… Oh baby….”, Michael whispered, biting his lip. His hand closed around her small wrist, and he guided her inside his briefs, wanting to feel her completely, skin on skin. When she finally held him in her grip, he sighed. “Shit… You feel so good… I love you so much…”.

He couldn’t possibly know what it did to her, to hold him, to feel him like that. Lisa’s mouth watered and she turned her head just enough to meet his lips, and they kissed, deeply, hungrily, the tempo of their lovemaking increasing, ascending to higher grounds, becoming slightly more frenzied, guided by their erratic heartbeats.

Lisa turned into his arms, still holding him, stroking him and feeling him grow even more under her fingers. She trembled, the desire of feeling him inside, filling her, nurturing her becoming almost unbearable. She pushed his pants and underwear down, and he quickly got rid of them just as she finally removed her shirt, standing naked in front of him.

He looked up, taking in her appearance.

“You are so fucking gorgeous, Lise… My beautiful goddess…”.

And then he was all over her again, his lips latched onto her neck, his strong arms holding her as he guided her to the side of the couch and, once again, made her turn around.

“Bend over… and wait like a good girl…”. His commanding tone held that loving undercurrent that always got her going.

She let go of him, a bit reluctantly, but shivered in anticipation at what she knew was to come. This man really read her thoughts. She did as instructed, one hand on the armrest, the other on the backrest of the couch, and the reflection in the mirror welcoming her seemed almost unreal for a moment. Who was that woman? Hair wild, face flushed, eyes limpid, looking so young again? Looking – just perfect. The sensorial overload threatened to engulf her, as she stared at him kissing her naked back, his big, strong hands once again sneaking around and cupping her breasts, kneading them. She felt his lips on her skin, and they were blistering hot; she felt his hips rotate against her ass and that hard, huge, perfect cock just sliding against her body forced a moan out of her. Lisa bit her lips and lowered her eyes. If she kept staring at their reflection, she would come even before having him inside.

Michael’s hands reached down and parted her legs further, gently but firmly, as his tongue traced her spine.

“Lise… You taste good all over…”.

“Mike…”.

“Yeah…”. His fingers entered her slowly, and she jerked.

“Oh shit… please… “.

“What, baby? What is it?”. His other hand rested on her belly, protectively.

“Give it to me…”.

His hips pushed forward, and the stimulation made him sigh. She could feel him everywhere.

“What? Tell me, Lisa… tell me what you want…”.

She tilted her head and locked eyes with him through the mirror.

“Your cock…”.

His eyes narrowed, and she could tell that he was trying hard to control himself. His slightly ragged breath didn’t lie. He hesitated a second too long, and she reached back, grabbing him again, tugging at him slightly. He gasped and smiled.

“Feisty woman…”.

Lisa’s eyes, albeit hazed over, held a playful glint.

“I know, right? Fill me up, daddy, fuck me good…”.

It was his turn now, to bite his lip. Placing both hands on her hips, he straightened up and his brow furrowed in concentration as he guided himself into her. The moment he breached her, making her feel every single inch of him, she was already on the brink of insanity. She swore under her breath, holding still.

“Shit… You drive me nuts, girl… You’re squeezing me to death already…”.

And then he started to move. And it was slow, deep, purposeful, each stroke a universe of colors exploding behind Lisa’s closed eyelids. She didn’t even realize she whimpered with every thrust he gave her, each time he pushed forward and buried himself into her, and then pulled back almost completely only to surge ahead again. Michael was that good.

“Oh my god… oh fuck…”.

Her orgasm built like a tidal pull, and she shattered, her arms trembling in the effort to keep her steady. She started to sweat, and Michael leaned forward, his scorching hot chest against her back, bracing his hands on either side of her body. She turned her face, and they kissed, the rhythm of their tongues replicating that of their lovemaking. As if she was observing herself from the outside, Lisa heard her own moan against his mouth as his thrusts slowed down, and then he stood still for a moment, allowing her to jerk and convulse against him, to ride her wave fully. Her legs shook and, immediately, he held her by the waist. Then he slowly withdrew from her with a long sigh. Yet he was far from done.

“Lie down, baby… Rest for a minute…”.

She looked at him over her shoulder, and he was just so beautiful, just standing there, naked, his forehead and neck glistening with sweat, his hand on his dick, stroking slowly. No way she was going to rest.

She did lie down on the couch, though, on her back, and immediately stretched out her arms to him.

“Come here, gorgeous…”, she tossed her hair and blinked, lazily, “…Let me taste you…”.

As if following her command, his dick jerked, and she smiled.

“What a good boy you have over there… So obedient… Come here, baby…”, she repeated, her voice low and raspy. The smile he gave her in return was blinding.

“You sure you’re up to it?”. Gosh, he really hoped so.

“Stop worrying…”, she reached over just as he stepped closer, and she grabbed him, “I’m fine…”.

He very helpfully positioned himself within reach, caressing her hair gently. She didn’t need any encouragement and took him into her mouth almost immediately, closing her eyes and savoring the heady feeling of power that came with tasting him. Michael’s head fell back as his hand kept running through her long hair.

“Holy shit, baby… you’re so good… oh yeah… gimme that heavenly mouth…”.

And just like that, by merely having him that way for a few minutes, she was ready again. She pulled back and started to stroke him, ever so slowly, looking up at him. And her eyes were his undoing – he immediately knew what she wanted.

“Damn, Lise… OK… I need you so much… Come here…”.

She hooked his arms under her knees, and he placed his knee on the couch, his member aiming at her perfectly and sliding into her with one powerful thrust.

“There you go, Mike… That’s it…”. Lisa swallowed and rested the palm of her hand on his stomach, loving the feeling of his muscles contracting with each stroke. Michael’s hand covered hers for a moment and then slid down, reaching her where they were joined and stroking her.

“Fuck… Oh shit…”.

Once again, she couldn’t stop the powerful wave of pleasure engulfing her, and she crumbled, one more time, while Michael didn’t ease up in the slightest. Sweat tickling his face and neck, biting his lip in concentration and going crazy at the sight of his woman so uninhibited, so abandoned, looking so sexy, he started fucking her hard, unable to hold back. Blood thundered in his ears, hammered in between his temples, his legs burned, and yet he kept going as she kept coming and whimpering. He let go of her legs, and she immediately wrapped them around his waist, pulling him deeper into her body, then grabbed his hands and placed them on her breasts, squeezing them.

“I love you, baby…”, he panted, his voice breaking, as he felt the physical pleasure of his impending climax become a whirlwind of heat spreading from his chest and running straight to his groin, “I love you so fucking much, more than anything… shit… I’m coming…”.

In the midst of her pleasure, she somehow found the strength to open her smoky eyes and looked at him. She held his hands against her own body.

“Oh yeah, baby… Let go… Let it go, Mike… Let me feel it… Come on…”, she took his hand and brought it to her mouth, kissing his fingers, sucking them lightly, “…Come for me, baby…”.

The moment he froze and stood perfectly still for one quick second, before surging forward again and bucking into her, the moment she felt him convulse and jerk and finally erupt inside her body, it was like a switch had been flicked, and she came again, violently, letting out a loud moan, her nerves taxed both by his size and the constant, all-consuming pleasure he subjected her to.

Michael thought he would pass out. Every time the pleasure seemed to subside, the aftershocks of Lisa’s orgasm triggered a new set of vibrations in his nerve endings. The moment he finally allowed himself to relax, bending forward, his arms on each side of Lisa’s body, his torso just above hers not to weigh on her, his breath was labored and short.

He kept his eyes closed and inhaled and exhaled deeply, his over-sensitized penis still sheathed in her heavenly warmth. Lisa’s hands framed his sweaty face, and he managed to look down at her.

She was smiling, and her eyes shone.

“I love you…”, she said, and he chuckled.

“I guess we went a little wild, um?”.

“I am not complaining…”.

“I didn’t hurt you, did I?”.

How she loved that concerned tone, appearing out of the blue after his dominant side would go dormant again.

“Only in all the right ways…”. She clasped her fingers behind his neck. “…Kiss me, Michael…”.

And he did. Bending his head, he reached her lips and placed endless, gentle kisses on them. His heart threatened to explode in his chest.

“I love going wild with you…”, she whispered in between kisses, and he smiled again.

Somehow, half-heartedly, he withdrew from her body. He took a minute to gently massage her thighs, to kiss her breasts lightly, lovingly, then lay down next to her on the huge couch, spooning her. Lisa played with his fingers and wiggled her cute butt against him.

He groaned.

“Keep that monster down, Mike…”.

“Then stop squirming, woman…”.

“What the hell… can’t you just be like any other man and stay soft for a while?”.

Michael giggled.

“I can’t help it… It’s not that I do it on purpose… And what other men you talking about, lady?”.

“No-one…”.

“Yeah… You better…”.

He propped up on his elbow and rested his head in his hand, looking down at her.

“I love this, you know?”.

She glanced at him and smirked, then pressed his other hand against her chest.

“This, what?”.

“This peace.”

“Yeah… Me too…”. She let out a long sigh. “And I love you…”.

They stayed quiet for a long time, just being close, kissing, cuddling, reveling in the presence of one another.

When he spoke, he startled her. His breathing had deepened, and Lisa thought he had dozed off.

“You gonna use that dossier, right?”.

He was awake, his voice clear and calm.

Lisa contemplated her answer for a moment.

“I’m gonna call Gross in a minute… and tell him to go ahead”.

“You sure about that?”.

“Yeah… I want Lockwood out of our lives”.

Chapter song