brightening. “Great.” Emotion threatened to take hold of him. He thought he’d be better off alone just now. Jack edged his way to the hall. “I’ll see you later.”
Nonna would help Jack, Bridgette mused as the man left the room. But who or what was going to help Mickey?
The answer was plain. She was.
Bridgette took a step toward the hall, only to feel the same hand on her shoulder, laying a bit more heavily this time. Annoyance leapt up again. She glared at his hand as if it were a disembodied limb until he removed it.
The woman had a look that could ignite wet kindling, Blaine thought as he dropped his hand to his side. “I’d rather that you didn’t go there right now.”
There was no point in playing innocent. They both knew she meant to go to Mickey’s room. “Why?”
Blaine saw no reason to give her any explanations. “He’s my son,” he answered flatly.
It amazed Bridgette that he didn’t stumble over the word. It was certainly foreign enough to him. Everything that Diane had told her about him rose up at once, crowding her mind.
“That’s not a reason, that’s a fact.” Her eyes narrowed as she looked up at him. “One that didn’t seem to trouble you before.”
Blaine had no idea what this woman was talking about, nor why he even cared. But puzzles had always drawn him in. “Excuse me?”
Didn’t he care how all this affected Mickey? Hadn’t it occurred to him that Mickey had needed him before this day? “I don’t remember seeing you coming around.”
The woman’s gall took his breath away. She certainly outdistanced Diane when it came to nerve. “I didn’t know I was supposed to check in with you.”
Bridgette saw temper flaring in his eyes. Hers rose higher. It was fueled by her feelings for Mickey and by the indignities that Diane had confided she’d suffered. Bridgette was surprised that Blaine even had the nerve to show his face after all this time. Most of all, she was surprised that Jack wasn’t making plans to ride him out on a rail. But then, Jack had always been a very kind man.
“From what I gathered, it wouldn’t have been often.” Bridgette turned on her heel. She made it all the way across the threshold before Blaine grabbed her arm and turned her around to face him.
“Just a minute. I think I’d like a word with you.” The defiant look on her face made him think of a winter storm about to break. If she thought he was going to back off because of it, she was in for a surprise. “A very long word.”
“All right.” Bridgette pulled her arm away and then folded both in front of her. “I’m listening.” Not that anything he had to say would make a difference in the way she felt, she added silently.
She was pushing buttons that brought back scenes from his marriage. But Blaine held his ground instead of ignoring her and walking away. This wasn’t Diane. This was some crazy woman who thought she had a place in his son’s life. Why, he didn’t know.
“I don’t even really know who the hell you are, lady.”
Bridgette gave a short laugh. “I’m surprised Mickey didn’t say the same thing to you when you showed up, omitting the ‘lady’ part, of course.”
The word shrew leapt to his mind. But that wasn’t unexpected, seeing as how she and Diane had been friends.
“My son knows who I am.”
“Long-term memory, no doubt.”
Blaine curbed the very real desire to take her by the arms and shake her until she made some sense. “Did you come here to go a few rounds with me for some warped reason?”
The moving men were looking at them. They’d stopped working and were obviously very entertained by what was transpiring. Taking her by the arm, he ushered her none-too-gently back into the living room as he mentally cursed himself for losing his temper like this. He was an easygoing man who hardly ever raised his voice. Diane had been the only one who had ever made him shout.
Until now.
Hanging on to what was left of her temper, Bridgette waved a dismissive hand at Blaine.
“I didn’t even know you were here. I just came by to see how Jack and Mickey were doing.” She paused for a moment as she looked him squarely in the eye. “Mickey obviously isn’t doing very well.”
Exasperation shouted for release. Just who did she think she was, coming here and passing judgment? “His mother just died, what do you expect him to be? Practicing cartwheels for a circus act?” A loud noise in the background reminded him of the movers, as well as of Jack and Mickey. With effort, he lowered his voice again. “All things considered, he’s doing rather well.”
“Oh, really?”
She tossed her hair over her shoulder. The slight action looked like a challenge from where he stood. Her hands balled into fists at her waist didn’t do anything to dispel that impression.
“And just what is your definition of ‘well’?” The man was not only heartless, he was blind to boot, Bridgette thought.
For two cents, he’d gladly clip that raised chin of hers. “Not that it’s any business of yours, Ms. Fanelli—”
“Rafanelli,” she corrected tersely.
“Ms. Rafanelli,” he echoed in the same tone she’d used, “My definition of well is the way Mickey is handling it. He’s behaving calmly, like an adult.”
There were words for dunderheads like O’Connor, but she refrained from using them. She didn’t want Mickey hearing her swear. But she had to bite her lip, physically holding back the barrage. When she finally spoke, it was in a low, barely controlled voice.
“You probably missed this piece of information in your vast travels around the globe, but Mickey is only ten. He’s not supposed to act like an adult until he’s past puberty.” Her eyes washed over Blaine. The look in them was far from flattering, even though she wasn’t oblivious to the fact that he was a very good-looking man. “Of course, for some it’s a reversed process.”
He’d had enough of her sarcasm. “Look, I really don’t have time for this—”
That had been the excuse Diane said he always used when she called him, asking him to come see his son. “Don’t have time for very much except your work, do you?”
The image of wrapping his hands around her throat seemed to spring up out of nowhere. He wasn’t a violent man by nature. Nonetheless, it was a very pleasing image.
“Not that I really care about your opinion, but just what is that supposed to mean?” Before Bridgette could respond, he added, “For that matter, what are all of your sarcastic remarks supposed to mean?” It took a great deal to keep from lashing out at her. “You don’t even know me.”
That’s where he was wrong. Bridgette set her mouth hard. Diane had told her plenty about this man, the heartache he’d caused her, the pain. “I know enough.”
There was a steely look
