Mike, Mike & Me by Wendy Markham

Author:Wendy Markham
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi, pdf
Publisher: Red Dress Ink
Published: 2005-03-25T16:00:00+00:00

sixteen

The past

As luck would have it, before Mike could accept the job in Silicon Valley, the software company in Manhattan called him for a third interview. They flew him back to New York the first week in August and put him up at a hotel in the East Fifties, near their office.

It wasn’t a luxury hotel like the Plaza or the Waldorf, just one of those Manhattan East Suite places. Still, I was impressed. Like I said, in my industry, entry-level applicants are lucky if they’re allowed to keep a pen after an interview. They certainly aren’t put up in hotel suites complete with kitchenettes and coffeemakers.

Naturally, I was staying with Mike while he was here. His idea, not mine. Not that I protested. But I didn’t dare suggest it myself, lest he inform me he wasn’t ready for a commitment like that.

Ironically, Mike called and told me about the interview the morning after my non-date with Other Mike at La Margarita. He sounded so upbeat about the software place and so excited to see me that I instantly realized I’d made a big mistake the night before. I wouldn’t be seeing Other Mike again. No way was I going to jeopardize my longtime relationship for a few laughs and a great pair of dimples.

I told myself he probably wouldn’t even call me again, anyway. But when he did—twice—I screened his calls. My Mike was back in town, maybe for good, and that was all that mattered.

“You know what we should do tomorrow?” I asked him as we lounged in bed watching The Tonight Show the night he arrived.

“No, what should we do?” He nuzzled my neck. We were both naked, limbs lazily entwined under the covers. Naturally, we had made a beeline for the hotel from the airport.

“I should call in sick to work, and we should stay here all day, in bed,” I said, raking my fingers through his short, dark hair.

“Can’t. I have my interview in the morning, remember?”

“Oh, yeah.” I stifled a yawn.

“Sleepy?” he asked with a smile.

“A little.”

“I wish I were. It’s barely nine o’clock my time.”

His time.

My time.

That our body clocks were no longer in sync really bothered me. We used to fall asleep together and wake together, but not anymore. Now, whenever he was here visiting, I heard him prowling around long after I was drifting in and out of consciousness. Then, when at last I was feeling refreshed and wide awake by the light of day, it was impossible to rouse him for breakfast before noon.

“You know,” I said, stifling another yawn, “I can still call in sick tomorrow morning and wait here for you. And when you finish your interview, you can come right back here and we can celebrate.”

He laughed. “Celebrate what?”

“That you got the job. You’re going to, you know.”

“How do you know?”

“I’m psychic.” I pressed my lips to his bare chest, then laid my head against it.

He tightened his arms around me. “Oh, yeah? Well, go ahead and tell me what else is going to happen, then.

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