Sarah Mayberry - Within Reach

“I don’t know. I need to sort out child care. But you were right. Sitting around here on my own all day isn’t helping anything.”

She pictured the darkened kitchen and living room and his shaggy hair and too-thin frame.

“It’s hard to get into things again. But life goes on whether we want it to or not. Wrong as it seems.” She hated how trite she sounded.

“Yeah, I know.”

“Have you thought about going back part-time to start with? Maybe three days a week, or something like that? That way both you and the kids would have a chance to get used to you not being around as much.”

“Part-time. I hadn’t thought of that. But there’s no reason why I couldn’t do it, even if it meant I worked from home on the other days.”

“Let’s face it, you’re probably going to do that anyway,” she said drily.

“True. And that would mean I’d only have to find day care for Charlie three days. And work out something for Eva after school.”

She moved to the window, stepping into a shaft of sunlight and letting it warm her skin.

“What about a nanny? I have no idea how much they are, but my friend Gail uses one. She says it’s a godsend.”

“Yeah? I guess it would be worth investigating. I keep hearing that the day-care places around here have waiting lists as long as my arm.”

“I’ll ask where she got hers and text you.”

“Thanks, Angie. I appreciate it.”

There was a humble sincerity to his tone that made her throat tight.

“How would you feel about me coming over on Sunday and taking Eva shopping for her friend’s present?”

It felt like a pitifully small gesture, all things considered, but at least it was practical.

“I would feel eternally grateful. I have no idea what to buy a six-year-old.”

“Neither do I, to be honest, but we can wing it. What say I swing by to pick her up at two on Sunday?”

“She’ll be ready. Thanks, Angie.”

“It helps me, too, you know,” she said quietly. “Being with the kids. Helping you out.”

He was silent for a moment. “Okay.” There was a wealth of understanding in the single word.

“I’ll see you Sunday.”

“You will.”

She ended the call and stepped out of the sunshine.

Michael was going back to the firm. A good decision, she was sure of it. Her work had saved her during the early, hard months. She was sure it would help him find himself again now.

At least, she hoped so.

* * *

THE REMAINDER OF THE WEEK sped by in a blur. Angie worked late every night, keen to make inroads on the commissions that had been waiting while she was in New York. She allowed herself the small luxury of sleeping in on Sunday before catching up with a friend for lunch. It was just after two when she stopped in front of Billie’s house.

She rang the doorbell, then had a horrible moment where she was suddenly convinced that she’d left her phone behind in the café. She fumbled in her handbag. Her fingers closed around her phone’s smooth contours as the front door opened.

“Hey. Right on time,” Michael said.

She glanced up, a lighthearted retort on her lips. The first thing she registered was his new, crisp haircut and the fact that he was clean-shaven. Then her gaze took in his broad chest in a sweat-dampened tank top and the skin-tight black running leggings moulded to his muscular legs. The words died on her lips and she blinked, momentarily stunned by the change in him.

“You’ve cut your hair,” she said stupidly.

“Yeah. Decided it was time to stop doing my Robinson Crusoe impersonation.”

He gestured for her to enter and she brushed past him. He smelled of fresh air and spicy masculine deodorant. He preceded her up the hall and her gaze traveled across his shoulders before dropping to his muscular backside. Billie had often waxed poetic about Michael’s body, but Angie had always made a point of not noticing—she didn’t want to know that kind of stuff. Now, as he stopped at the kitchen counter, she was forcibly reminded of the fact that he was a very attractive man.

For a moment she didn’t quite know where to look.

“Is, um, Eva ready to go? I thought I’d take her to Chadstone,” she said, naming Melbourne’s biggest shopping center. Her gaze skittered uneasily around the room. It was only then that she noticed the other changes—the kitchen was clean, not a single dirty bowl or plate in sight, and the dining table had been polished to a shine. True, a small stack of neatly folded washing sat at one end, but it looked like a temporary measure this time rather than a permanent fixture. The living room had been cleared of stray books and magazines and abandoned clothes, the cushions on the couch plumped.

Most important, the blinds had been raised, inviting the weak winter sunshine into the house.

She forgot all about her uncomfortable awareness as her gaze met Michael’s.

“Look at you go,” she said quietly.

He shrugged, but she could tell he was pleased she’d noticed the difference. “Getting there.”

It wasn’t only his hair that was different, she realized. His eyes were different, too. Brighter, clearer, more focused. As though he’d ceased looking inward and was ready to engage with the world again.

“Okay. I’m ready. Let’s get this show on the road,” Eva announced as she marched into the room.

She was dressed in a pair of yellow cowboy boots, a bright blue skirt and a poppy-red sweater. Her blond hair had been pulled into two lopsided pigtails and fastened with yellow-and-white polka dot ribbons, and a grass-green handbag hung from her shoulder.

Her mother’s daughter, from top to toe.

“You look like a summer’s day,” Angie said, opening her arms for a hug.

Eva walked into her embrace, resting her head beneath Angie’s breasts.

“I feel like a summer’s day. We’re going shopping.”

Michael smiled ruefully. “Words to make any man quake in his shoes.” He picked up his wallet. “How much money do you need?”

“I have my own money, thank you very much.” Eva pulled an elephant-shaped wallet from her handbag and displayed the two five-dollar bills resting within.

“Not bad, money bags. How about I give Auntie Angie a little extra in case you ladies find something nice that catches your eye?”

Angie shook her head as he offered her two crisp fifties. “I’ve got it covered.”

“You’re doing enough already.”

Before she could protest again, he closed the distance between them and tucked the bills into her coat pocket. She caught another whiff of his deodorant and a faint hint of clean, male sweat.

She cleared her throat. “Well. We should probably get going, little lady. Don’t want to miss out on all the bargains.”

Eva kissed her father goodbye and Angie told him they would be back by five and hustled out the door. She didn’t feel one hundred percent comfortable until she was sliding into the driver’s seat.

Which was dumb. Michael was still Michael, even if he did have an attractive body and a handsome face. Just because she’d suddenly tuned into that fact for a few seconds didn’t change anything.

“Weirdo,” she muttered under her breath.

“Sorry?” Eva said, her face puzzled.

“Nothing, sweetheart.”

And it was nothing. A stupid, odd little moment of awareness that meant nothing to anybody. Shaking it off, she started the car and pulled away from the curb.

* * *

MICHAEL SHOWERED AFTER Angie and Eva had left, taking advantage of the fact that Charlie was enjoying a rare afternoon nap. His legs ached from the run he’d taken after lunch while his neighbor, Mrs. Linton, watched the kids, but for the first time in a long time his body felt loose and easy.