Events of the morning

The next morning Michael left Erica sleeping in his bed, kissing her cheek to induce a dreaming smile, and drove to his ex-wife Celeste's house. They had previously arranged to drive their youngest son and his friends to a paintball excursion for his birthday.

Once they delivered the boys to the field, Celeste suggested they go for coffee until the boys were finished. They found a coffee ship full of brushed steel and cement where Michel bought coffee and pastries for both of them.

"So how's the dating scene?" Celeste asked with elaborate casualness.

"Not bad. How are you and Philip?"

"Great, really great," she answered, then after a calculated pause asked another question. "So, are you seeing anyone?"

"Yeah, a woman from work."

"From work? That could get awkward. How long have you been seeing her."

"Not long. It is what it is." With what he later thought of as ironic an poignant timing, his cell phone rang. When he answered, Erica's sleepy voice greeted him.

"Hey tiger," he said, smiling.

"Just woke up and was missing you," she murmured.

"I'll be a while yet."

"I know, that's ok. I just wanted to hear your voice."

"You're sweet," he smiled.

"Not as sweet as you, lover. I'm lying here all content, but wishing my man was here. I might have to take care of myself, since I'm all alone."

"You do what you need to, tiger."

"You ex is right there, isn't she?"

"Yes." His eyes flickered at Celeste across the table, studiously looking at a magazine, but clearly listening closely.

"I won't tease you too much then. But when you get home, I promise you'll like what you see."

"I'm looking forward to it."

"You should," she chuckled earthily, ending the call.

Celeste put her magazine down and smirked at him. "'Tiger?' You used to call me that."

"That was then, this is now."

"So was she at your place?"

"Yes."

"Oooo, well done," she said with the faintest edge of sarcasm. "How old is she?"

"Younger than me. Younger than you. What does it matter?"

"It doesn't. I'm just curious."

"Didn't the pictures Deb and Eileen sent you satisfy that?" he asked and had the satisfaction of seeing an embarrassed blush on his wife's face. "She's twenty-four."

"My God she's a baby, Michael."

"No. She's a woman. And a very intriguing one." Celeste snorted and changed the subject.