Whenever Mick thought of waking in Trish's bed he smiled. Obviously, having her still snuggled in would have been better, especially if he could show her just how much he loved her.

As he waited for her to return from the hospital, he hoped it was how his life would be. Obviously, he met Trish when her schedule was manageable. She would be called in to perform very long surgeries, but not every week. She survived not seeing him when he traveled. Her residency must have felt like it was never-ending, but to cheat while she worked towards her dream was purely selfish. The only woman Mick wanted to share intimacies with was Trish for the rest of his life. He saw a beautiful future as soon as she moved past her hurt.

They spent a quiet day together until it was time to get ready for dinner. "I have to go home and change."

She nodded. "What are you wearing?"

He shrugged. "Not a suit. Dress pants."

"Suit! Dress pants! What am I getting into?"

"It's fine. Wear a dress."

"A dress? I thought it was just dinner."

"It is, but in the dining room. Think of it like a holiday meal without the occasion."

"I don't have designer dresses. I rented a gown."

He kissed her lips. "They'll love you if you wear a burlap sack."

She pouted. "I doubt that."

He chuckled. "You didn't want to go to the Putnams. We wore jeans and played football in the backyard."

"Can you help me decide from my limited choices?"

"I'll help you zipper it." He followed her into her bedroom and she held up a black dress. "Do you have some color?"

"What are you, the fashion police?"

"You asked for my opinion. It's not a funeral."

"Fine." She held up a simple sheath with short sleeves. "This is teal."

"Will you be warm enough?"

She smiled. "I have a sweater, but it's black."

He laughed. "You'll be beautiful. Do you want to change now, or should I come back for you?"

"Where do they live?"

"Back Bay."

"You should wait for me. If I'm left alone, I might change my mind."

"Imagine being Poppy. She was pregnant."

"Did they hate her?"

Mick laughed. "Everyone loves Poppy. Chickie doesn't know how to hate. She is the polar opposite of my mother."

"Okay. Okay. Leave so I can change."

Mick paced the floor hoping she didn't take too long. When she opened the door, she wore a completely different dress. It was a tan sweater dress that hugged her curves and went past her knees. Leather boots covered her shins. His mouth dropped open.

"Is this okay?"

"I'm not the fashion police, but you look absolutely beautiful."

Her cheeks pinked up. "I need to fix my hair."

She went into the bathroom. He watched fascinated as she pinned it up and added some shiny lipstick. She turned back. "Did you enjoy that?"

"Immensely." His dick had woken up. Clearing his throat, he said, "Let's go." He was glad it was cold out.

At his apartment, he wished she would volunteer to button his shirt, but she sat on the sofa when he walked into the bedroom. After a quick rinse in the shower, he shaved. Mick kept his hair shorter than he had in Colombia and it only required him to run his fingers through the damp strands. Once dressed, he stepped out and felt a stir from Trish's appreciating scan.

"You tucked in your shirt."

He chuckled. "I tucked my shirt into my tux."

"True, but never on the island or when you wear jeans."

"Now you're the fashion police."

She chuckled and stood to approach him. When he saw her nibbling on her lower lip, he took her hand. "They love me, so they'll love you." She nodded slowly. "I'll hold your hand the whole time."

The traffic made the drive slow as he approached Clarendon Street. In Back Bay, the streets perpendicular to the river were alphabetical. Before Clarendon was Berkley and Dartmouth followed it. He turned up the public alleyway which led to the Hathorne's driveway.

"Do they live in an apartment?"

Mick shook his head. "Many of the old brownstones have been chopped up into apartments but not theirs." It was a large private residence. When he parked, there were two other cars. One he recognized as Tyler's family mobile. He hoped the sedan belonged to Eli.

Mick rang the bell and Chickie's face lit up when she saw them. "You're missing the fun. Clara is cruising."

"Cruising?" He muttered, but no one heard him.

Chickie had put her arm around Trish. "I'm so glad to meet you. Come in."

Mick stood and watched them disappear. Where was his greeting? With long strides he caught up to the women as Trish said, "Your home is beautiful."

The family had gathered in the sitting area that was part of the kitchen. Mick smiled at the toys dropped on the floor. Clara had everyone's attention. No one looked up when they stepped in. The baby cautiously moved one hand and then the other along the sofa. She took steps with each move while still holding on. When she reached her mother, she held her knees but kept going.

Arthur and Eli cheered like they were at a sporting event. Meanwhile, Tyler looked proud as if he was the only man to create a child.

Leigh noticed them first. She jumped up. "Trish." The two women embraced.

Tyler noticed and looked at him. "How do they know each other?"

Mick felt the need to protect Trish. Eli said, "Leigh ran into Mick and his girl. They hit it off."

Tyler frowned. "I'm glad we're meeting her now."

Leigh turned from Trish. "Relax Tyler, Eli hasn't met her either."

Eli stood behind Leigh and put one hand on her hip and reached past her with his right. "I'm Leigh's other half. Welcome and ignore my brother."

She smiled. "I know Tyler is a brother to Mick. I've been looking forward to meeting him, Poppy and Clara." She smiled at the baby in her grandmother's arms.

Arthur stood. "Mick, what do you and the doctor want to drink?"

Mick chuckled. "Arthur Hathorne, this is Trisha Jacobsen. I'll have what Eli's drinking. Trish? Wine?"

She nodded. "I rarely drink, because I never know when my next surgery is, but all my patients are stable."

Eli said, "You have an impressive career. I suppose everyone asks you how many years."

"They do. Five years of residency and two for each fellowship."

"Dedication."

Mick led Trish to Tyler who sat cozy with Poppy. "You two, this is Trish."

"Mick has told me so much about you. I feel like I know you already."

Poppy smiled. "So you met on an island too."

"Our story is a little different," Mick assured her.

When the doorbell rang, everyone looked at each other. Chickie smiled. "I wanted to surprise you. I ran into your father when I was out to lunch yesterday and I invited him. Come with me to greet him."

Mick wasn't sure what surprised him most, Chickie's invitation or his Dad accepting. As they walked to the door, he whispered, "I hope she's not coming."

"I only invited him." She pulled open the door. "Hello, Michael. Please come in."

"Chickie. Mick. Son." He looked emotional.

"Hi, Dad." They hugged awkwardly.

"What's this I hear about a girl?"

Woman. "It's new, but she's special."

"Good for you, son."

When they entered the room with the others, Arthur handed Michael a glass. "It's been too long."

His father laughed. "We haven't had to bail them out of trouble in a long time."

Arthur shook his head. "When they were little, it was always something."

"We weren't bad kids." Mick defended himself.

"No, but you were always skinning knees and breaking bones."

"Once." He jumped off the furniture at Tyler's and landed very wrong.

Michael said, "I remember getting that call. I kept telling myself he would be fine, but as parents we're programmed to panic. I remember you in the hospital bed in pain."

Mick shook his head. "I remember the itching under the cast and not being able to eat."

Michael looked at him with his forehead wrinkled, but Trish asked the question. "Why couldn't you eat?"

"Because I couldn't cut my food and couldn't eat like a wild animal."

Michael said, "I cut your meat."

"You weren't home most nights. I think we had steak or pork every night for a month."

Leigh hissed. "That's child abuse." Mick heard her, but his father seemed lost in thought.

Michael cleared his throat. "I know Arthur and Chickie made up for my failings as a father. Thank you."

Chickie rubbed his arm. "We love him like he's one of our own. Meet Trisha, she's wonderful."

Mick wanted to understand, but put it aside. "Dad, this is Trish."

Trish smiled. "Nice to meet you, Mr. Daigle. I've seen too many parents by their child's bed. It's never easy."

Michael cleared his throat. "Yes, well, it was a long time ago."

The atmosphere relaxed. Clara made dinner in the dining room less formal. Mick kept his hand on Trish's thigh. As he looked around the table, he suspected Eli and Tyler's hands were in a similar spot. The difference was they were intimate and Mick was impatiently waiting.

On their way back to Trish's place, she said, "I like them. Your father loves you. To me he's a man full of regret."

"If only, he could have divorced her and gotten custody of me."

"He should have been able to. She was abusive."

"Can we make out and not talk about my parents?"

Trish laughed. "I want to kiss you."

Mick squeezed her thigh. "I love you."

Thanks for voting ⭐️