Page 60 of She Likes It, Hey Micah
Exhaustion also explains why I reach over and grab her hand now, pulling her arm onto the console between us. “I would have cuddled with you for warmth,” I say, almost too quietly for her to hear. Saying it any louder feels like tempting fate.
Micah snickers. “I’m not sure you were meant to say cheesy lines like that.”
It was supposed to be romantic.
I clear my throat. “So, you and your brother are pretty close? What about Houston?”
She must know that I’m changing the subject on purpose, but she doesn’t say anything about it. Instead, she tells me about how she has many half siblings and stepsiblings, but Chad, Houston, and Houston’s twin, Brooklyn, are the ones she’s closest to. Her dad is a serial groom but genuinely loves all of the women he marries, and from the sound of things, Micah’s mom was probably the love of his life. It’s a pity he only got to keep her for a few years, and I feel even worse that Micah never really knew her mom.
“It’s why I was so eager to work on the Greenwood event,” she tells me as her thumb rubs a featherlight line along mine. “I hoped it would feel like my mom, you know? That maybe I would feel closer to her by being in the same place.”
“And?”
She smirks at me. “And maybe I was a little distracted.”
My heart rate picks up speed, and I force myself to stay relaxed so I don’t accidentally swerve the car or something. Is she saying…?
“That storm was crazy,” Micah continues. “But I’m so glad we were able to help all those people.”
Right. Of course I wasn’t the distraction. I don’t know where all this unfounded hope is coming from, but I need to tamp it down before I have another Miranda situation on my hands.
I mentally groan. Why in the world would I compare Micah to Miranda? Outside of their names starting with the same letter, they have absolutely nothing in common. And Micah would never betray her business partner and steal money from all of her clients and investors. That’s not my problem, and I know it, but blaming my issues on Miranda is a whole lot easier than acknowledging my own faults and shortcomings.
“Maybe at the reopening,” she says, “when everything is decorated and party-like, it’ll feel like it did when my parents got married.”
I hope it does. She deserves to have some brightness added to her life when she’s so good at bringing light to everyone else’s.
“What about your parents?” Micah asks.
I tense. “What about them?”
I refuse to look at her expression, though I would imagine she’s trying to interpret mine. “How did they meet? What are they like? Are they still together?”
If she was anyone else, I would tell her it’s none of her business, but I can’t stop myself from answering all of her questions. “They met at Yale. They’re both in investments, and yes, they’re still together.” My answers are pathetic and won’t satisfy Micah’s curiosity, but that doesn’t mean I want to talk about my parents. They made sure I got a good education, but I can’t say they were loving parents. Or that they are capable of love to begin with. I’m not sure they ever lovedeach other.
I can practically feel her questions, but to my surprise she moves on. “What about your brother? What does he do?”
I glance at her, a small part of me wishing she wasn’t holding onto my hand so I could pretend there’s some sort of barrier between us now. This isn’t how I wanted to fill the silence—I didn’t want to fill it at all—but what can I do? “He’s in business. Like me.”
“You said you’re close but don’t want to be. Why is that?”
I’m walking a dangerous line right now, but I make the mistake of looking at her and seeing the warm and reassuring smile she’s giving me. “Because he can be difficult most of the time,” I reluctantly answer. Because how can I not? Micah has a way of getting under my skin without even trying.
“Siblings are always difficult.” She laughs. “But do you ever try to work with him and make things better?”
I growl, gripping the steering wheel until my knuckles turn white. No, I don’t try. But neither does he.
“How do you do that?”
I glance at her. “Do what?”
She makes a scratchy noise in her throat. “Growl. You make it sound so easy, but I haven’t been able to replicate it.”
The question sounds so ridiculous that I can’t help but laugh. “You want to know how to growl?You?”
“Hey, I can be grumpy sometimes.”
“I don’t think you’ve been grumpy in your life.” Is that how she sees me? Grumpy? Okay, I shouldn’t be surprised, but I hope she doesn’t always see me that way. Hopefully there have been some moments she enjoyed my company.
