by Tia Siren
I stalked toward her and shut her laptop with one move of my hand and forced her to look up at me.
“Enough. You had your say. I get it, but I’m not going anywhere tonight, Mia. You’re the one who’s being childish.”
She stood up, put her hands on her hips, and glared at me. “Fine! But you’re not sleeping in my bed.”
I shrugged a shoulder. “Whatever.”
I was done fighting. Everything I said made the situation worse. I opted to keep my mouth shut. Maybe she’d feel differently once she slept on it. If not, then there truly was little I could do about it. I couldn’t exactly club her over the head and drag her back to my cave, even if that was what I wanted to do.
She stomped down the hallway and came back with the same blanket from the first night, but I wasn’t even given a pillow this time. She threw the blanket on the couch, shot me one last death glare, and stomped into her room, slamming the door hard behind her.
It was still early, way too early to be going to bed, but I had a feeling I wouldn’t be seeing Mia again this evening. I sighed and flopped down on the couch. I didn’t remember her being this volatile. I must have really brought out the best in her. Tomorrow was my last chance to prove to her I was serious about making our relationship work. My last hope was that the night alone would give her time to think and time to miss me.
I looked at her closed bedroom door and debated forcing my way in and making her lie with me. I couldn’t. We would end up having sex. I knew that. She might have been pissed as hell, but she wanted me. She would have sex with me and then kick me out of her bed. I had to do this a little differently. I wasn’t sure exactly how, but differently.
Chapter Twenty
Mia
The dawn of a new day brought fresh regret and humiliation. I had freaked out on him yesterday. Some of it had been warranted, but I could admit I had gone a little overboard. The thought of marrying him because of a stupid pact had just struck such a chord with me. I’d lost all control of my emotions. I had turned into a raving lunatic.
I blamed my mother. She read me too many stories as a child, made me believe in happily ever afters and having it all. I didn’t want to get married because of some silly pact made when I was twenty-four years old. I didn’t want a marriage of convenience. I didn’t want to settle down and pop out kids just because my time was running out. I wanted to get married and have a family because I loved someone and was loved in return. I didn’t think that was too much to ask for.
I was dressed and ready for work, dreading the moment I had to open my bedroom door and face him.
Taking a deep breath, I pulled open the door. A shiver of fear rolled over me when I heard nothing but silence. Oh God, had he left already?
I hurried down the hallway in a slight panic but stopped when I saw him leaning over the couch, fluffing the throw pillows. His bag was zipped up and sitting on the floor. He was dressed and obviously ready to go.
He looked up when he saw me. Instead of the warm smile I was accustomed to seeing first thing in the morning, he gave me a cold, wary look.
“I’m just waiting for my cab and then I’ll be out of your hair. I’ll wait in the lobby,” he said, bending down to pick up his bag.
“Brad, wait,” I said, walking toward him. “You don’t have to wait in the lobby. I don’t want to end it like this.”
I fought back the rush of tears that wanted to fall. I was not going to cry. This was a momentary weakness brought on by the sight of him ready to leave. The man was devastatingly handsome, and I would miss him, but his leaving was for the best. After my reaction last night, I didn’t know if I could ever truly forgive him for the past, for leaving me behind.
I stood in front of him.
“I’m not in the mood for another fight with you, Mia. I don’t want to end our great weekend like that.”
“I know. I understand.” I leaned up on my tiptoes and gave him a soft kiss on the cheek. “I’m sorry about last night.”
“You are?” he asked hopefully.
“It doesn’t mean I’ve changed my mind, but I am sorry. I know you don’t think it’s wrong, and I know you think you’re doing something gallant or noble. I respect you for trying to honor a pact. That means a lot to me, but it was a silly pact made between two young people who were naïve and clueless about real life,” I said.
“I don’t think it was. I think it was made between two people who cared a great deal for each other but had the maturity to understand they both had a lot of living to do first.”
I smiled. “That’s one way to put it. A lot of living brings a change in perspective. My perspective has changed.”
“Maybe mine has too, which is why I’m here. It took me eleven years to realize I made a mistake. I shouldn’t have let you go. I want to rectify that mistake,” he said in a gentle tone, one hand resting on my shoulder.
I sighed, thinking about what would have been different had he stayed. I had played out the what-ifs in my mind a hundred different ways over the years, but I could never see it working out any better.
“I’m sorry. I think you did do the right thing. You did what was best for both of us. I don’t think I would have been able to do that. For that, I thank you. However, I am still sorry you wasted your time and energy on trying to rekindle that spark between us.”
He looked into my eyes. I saw my own sadness reflected there.
“Don’t be sorry. I’m not. Coming out here may not have gone exactly as I had hoped, but I am not the least bit sorry I got to spend time with you. It wasn’t wasted in the least.”
I stomped my foot in frustration. I was frustrated with myself for not giving in, frustrated with him for asking, and frustrated with the situation in general.
“It just wouldn’t work. Not like that, not with the two of us. Even forgetting everything that happened in the past, we’re both strong people who can’t settle for anything,” I told him, meaning every word. “We would never be able to compromise.”
“I’m not giving up, Mia. I think you have this all wrong. I’m leaving today, but I am by no means giving up on you.”
“Brad,” I said, getting ready to list more reasons why we couldn’t get married.
I looked into his eyes and saw something change. Before I knew what he was going to do, his mouth covered mine, his tongue sweeping inside as his arms wrapped around me, holding me close to him. I sank into his body, letting myself enjoy one last kiss. The man was a superb kisser. He could make me forget everything with one touch.
He pulled away and looked down at me. I felt a little dazed. “Dammit, I hate when you do that,” I muttered, doing what I could to steady my legs, which now felt weak.
“I want to do it again.”
“No! I’m sorry, but you can’t. We can’t. This isn’t going to work. I’m really sorry, Brad.”
He grinned. “Don’t be sorry, and quit fucking apologizing. I’m tired of hearing that damn word,” he said, his smooth voice disappearing and that dominating tone and demeanor taking over.
It was that domineering personality that made me want to swoon. I stepped away from him, needing to get control of my racing libido. He stepped toward me. I ended up with the wall against my back and his chest pressed against my breasts.
His blue eyes were the color of steel as he gazed down at me. “I’m going to prove to you that we are meant for each other. I know what I want, Mia, and it’s you. I’m not so easily defeated. You can’t chase me away with a few harsh words. When I want something, I take it. You want me too; I know it, and I’m going to show you how bad. It may take some time, but I’ll wait.”
He stepped away from me, leaving me panting. I watched as he picked up his bag, then stopped at the small table in the entryway. He reached into the pocket of his jeans and pulled out a key, held it up, and put it on the table.
“What’s that?” I asked, suddenly worried he had somehow managed to get a copy of my house key.
“It’s the key to m
y apartment. I’ll text you my address. You are free to visit me anytime you like. I hope you will come out and see me sometime,” he said. Then he walked out the door.
I stared at his back and watched him walk out of my life for a second time. I had an urge to stop him, to tell him I had changed my mind, but I stopped myself. I hadn’t really changed my mind. I was a rational person, and I knew deep down that no matter how good the sex was or how much I enjoyed hanging out with him, his proposal would never work. We were two different people.
Despite my declaration that I would never see him again, I walked over and picked up the key before sliding it into the side pocket of my purse.
I packed up my laptop and headed for work. I was glad I had a packed schedule today. I had to keep my mind off Brad. The cab driver tried to make conversation. I couldn’t. I wasn’t in the mood. When we finally made it to my office building, I crawled out of the cab with a serious lack of enthusiasm. I dragged my ass to the elevator, dreading the day.
The receptionist at the front desk looked at me and grinned. “How was your long weekend?”
“Fine,” I snapped before walking through the double doors that led to my office.
I hoped to God no one else asked me about the weekend. I didn’t want to talk about it. I didn’t want to even think about it, and I hoped I could simply erase it from my memory. I flopped down at my desk and looked at the clock. He would be boarding his flight right now.
I stared out the window, having no energy to open my laptop and start working. I grabbed the schedule sheet off my desk and read it, groaning at all the things I had to do today. All I wanted to do was curl up on my couch and pout.
There was no reason for being in such a mood. I had brought it all on myself. It had been my choice to send him off like I had. It had been my choice to sleep alone on his last night in town. A commotion outside my door drew my attention. I stood, walked to my door, and looked at the area where a number of cubicles were situated.
“Shit,” I mumbled when I saw a bouquet of pink and blue balloons. That could only mean one thing.
“What’s going on?” I asked one of the women walking down the hallway.
“Jordan just announced she’s pregnant,” she answered.
I didn’t know Jordan, but I hated her. I hated that she was happy. I hated her for being pregnant. I walked to the cubicle that had been decorated with a variety of baby gear and did my best to appear happy for her.
“Congratulations,” I said with forced cheerfulness. “When are you due?”
The young woman, Jordan, was absolutely beaming when she looked at me. “In five months, October.”
I nodded as if that meant something to me. “That’s great,” I said with a smile.
I looked at Jordan and decided she had to be in her early twenties. She was the same age I had been when Brad had walked away from me. Someone else appeared out of nowhere carrying a cake with pink and blue icing.
I wanted to smash the cake against the wall. Instead, I politely stood around the cubicle with the rest of the office staff and pretended to be happy for the expecting mom as I ate the dry white cake. Once I felt I had stayed long enough to be polite, I made my excuses and left the little gathering.
Once I got back to my office, I closed the door and flopped down in my chair. I rested my forehead on my desk, wishing I had never come in to work. I could have gone the rest of my life without having seen Jordan’s joy and excitement.
I was nearly thirty-five. My biological clock was beating against a gong inside my head. I had never meant to not have children, but life had other plans. My career and a serious lack of good men in the city had teamed up with fate and left me alone and childless. I thought back to the man who had been in my apartment that morning. He was probably my last chance at having children, and I had blown it. I had sent him packing with a firm denial.
I could practically feel my ovaries shriveling as I thought about the things I had said to Brad. There was no way he was going to come back to me. I had made certain of that.
Chapter Twenty-One
Brad
My day at the beach was supposed to help me forget about New York. It didn’t work. I was cranky as hell, and everything and everyone was pissing me off. Mia had thrown a serious wrench into my life plans. Every time I thought about her kicking me out of her bed, my mind jumped right to the part where I was in her bed, inside her. I knew she wanted me. Maybe I could settle for some cross-country affair. Jump on a plane, jump on her, then jump back home.
“Dammit!” I groaned as the elevator doors slid open. The older woman riding up with me glared. “Sorry. I, uh, just remembered I left the stove on,” I mumbled.
Being back home wasn’t what I’d planned it to be. I’d had the idea I was going to be coming home an engaged man, but I wasn’t. Not even close. Mia was one stubborn woman. I could tell she cared about me, and I had apologized about a hundred times for what had happened in the past. It just wasn’t enough. I thought I had adequately groveled. Apparently not, considering I was sitting in LA all alone. She’d been so pissed. I hadn’t expected that at all. I had thought I might have to convince her, but I hadn’t expected a flat-out no without a discussion, especially after we’d had such a great time together.
I checked my phone, but there was still no message from her. I had sent her several, hoping to get a response. She had cut me out of her life, but my mind refused to accept defeat. I felt like shit as I walked into the station. I wasn’t in the mood to do my usual show. I just didn’t have it in me. I didn’t have a guest today, which meant it was all me. I had a show all planned, but it did not appeal to me now, not in my current mood.
Normally, that wouldn’t be a problem. It was easy to fake a good mood when no one could see you. I didn’t have to smile or look like I gave a shit. I was a practiced smooth talker. But despite all my training and experience, I couldn’t seem to find the enthusiasm to go through with my normal routine. Tonight, all I wanted to talk about was Mia.
An idea sprang to mind. I could do exactly that. I needed some sound advice. My listeners would tell me what I should do. It would be putting myself out there, but I didn’t care. I was desperate. There was a chance Mia would catch the show as well. It was slim, but it was a chance, and that was all I could hope for.
I settled into the booth, looked at my producer, and grinned. A look of fear cross his face. He knew I was about to go way off script. He shook his head. I winked, telling him it would be okay by giving him a thumbs-up.
“Good evening, listeners. We’re going to do something a little different tonight. We’re turning the tables. Instead of me spewing my words of wisdom, I need some input from all of you. It’s like this, folks: I’ve got girl problems,” I said to start the show.
The producer was shaking his head on the other side of the glass, telling me to stop. But I couldn’t—not now. I had a feeling my loyal listeners would like the chance to know me a little better anyway. I talked a lot about my fitness and health. Why not talk to them about something a bit more personal? Still, that persistent niggle of doubt in the back of my mind was telling me to shut my mouth and stick with the program. I ignored it.
“I need some help, guys. There’s a woman. No, let me clarify. Not a woman, the woman. She just happens to be the most stubborn woman in the world. She loves me. I know that without a doubt. The problem is, she doesn’t know it.”
Within seconds, the switchboard was lighting up, and I hoped it was some good advice coming in. I was grasping at straws at this point and was willing to do just about anything.
The first call was patched through.
“What do you have for me?” I asked, hopeful I was about to be given the key to Mia’s heart.
“She’s just not that into you,” a man’s voice said.
I burst into laughter. “Well, that was blunt.”
The guy had already hung up.
When I looked up at my producer, he was smiling broadly. This was pay
back. Of all the calls, he had deliberately chosen that one to give me. I flipped him the bird.
“Help me out, guys,” I begged my listeners.
When given the signal to take another call, I steeled myself for more harsh words.
“Be nice,” I said, answering the call.
“Woo her. Show her how much you love her. Guys always think they can steamroll their way into everything,” a woman said on the other end of the phone.
“What do you mean woo?” I asked, genuinely curious.
She laughed. “That’s the problem. You don’t know how to woo.”
“I’m at your mercy,” I said.
My producer was laughing. The switchboard was completely lit up, so clearly my love troubles were very exciting.
The calls ranged from offers to soothe my broken heart to some rather rude suggestions about what I should do. By the end of the show, I wasn’t feeling like I had any really good ideas about how to convince Mia she loved me, but I’d had a lot of good laughs, which had helped lift my mood somewhat. I hoped I had provided some comic relief for the rest of the country. It was only a little embarrassing that they were laughing at me.
I was sitting in my office still thinking about Mia when Jaxon pushed open my door.
“What the hell?” he growled.
“What?” I asked.
“That was embarrassing for me,” he said. “You must be feeling like a complete idiot. Are you drunk?”
I laughed. “I’m desperate, man, not drunk. Maybe I need to be drunk.”
“No shit. That came across loud and clear. You sounded like a lovesick teenager.”
I shrugged a shoulder. I didn’t care that I had lost all my dignity and self-respect. “I’m a lovesick adult. Same thing.”
“You’ll be happy to hear there are about a hundred women who left their names and numbers, all offering to help heal your broken heart. More than one said she would love to accept your proposal,” he said. “How is it you make a fool out of yourself and you still come out smelling like a rose? It’s like you can do no wrong. I think I hate you.”