by L. M. Carr
As if he could feel the two sides of me warring against each other, he tightens the hold on my hand firmly. For months he’s all I’ve thought about, this is all I’ve thought about. Not a day went by that I didn’t miss him. Suddenly, feeling like I’m suffocating, I loosen my fingers and attempt to let go.
“Please don’t let go,” he whispers as one hand moves to cup my face. “I need to hold you.”
Like the fool that I am, I close my eyes and lean in to his palm, allowing my heart to open up to further pain. This has to be the cruelest dream in the history of dreams.
“Mia . . .” He presses his forehead against mine for what feels like forever.
And then my stomach growls.
He chuckles, placing a soft kiss on my head. “Some things never change.”
I open my eyes and feel my fragile heart pull up its shield of armor to protect itself from being easily persuaded. “And others do.” I step away from him and stand straight.
“Sit down. Let me make you something to eat. We need to talk,” he offers, but it’s my turn to chuckle; he’s in no state to cook for anyone so I tell him to sit.
I must have a moment of insanity because I agree to let him stay so we can talk.
Quietly, I set about pulling ingredients together for pancakes while two cups of coffee brew separately. My t-shirt stretches against my small belly when I reach up to the second shelf for my prenatal vitamins. I glance back at him quickly and am relieved when I find his eyes are cast down, looking at his phone. The smooth planes of his forehead are replaced with a deep V. He appears angry or confused. He’s right—some things never change.
On each plate, I pile three pancakes while he prepares our coffee. A small smile escapes my lips because he remembers how I take it. Outside, he cranks the patio umbrella up to shield his eyes from the bright morning sun. “It’s a little early and my head is pounding,” he answers my silent question.
We sit adjacent to one another, eating quietly, enjoying the calm stillness of the morning hour, but the tension is building. I can feel it. This feels like a déjà vu of the morning after the first time we spent the night together when we agreed to drama-free sex. Questions bounce around in my head, colliding violently with one another. Should I just come out and tell him that I’m pregnant? How will he react? Will anything change? What will happen after today? He’s moved across the country, for God’s sake. I can only imagine how little time he’ll spend with our baby.
He pushes around the last piece of pancake with the fork, soaking up the remnants of syrup before he eats it and then leans back on the chair and sighs. “Thank you for that. It was delicious.” A tight smile creeps across his face and I nod in agreement. “The kids always complain that my pancakes aren’t as good as yours.” The mention of his children makes me sad. This breakup didn’t just affect us; it affected them deeply. “I bet when I blinked, you always threw in another ingredient, a little something extra into the batter.” I want to laugh at his attempt to lighten the mood, but I can’t.
“God,” he says as he leans forward to rest his elbows on the table and scrubs his face, wiping his eyes with his fingertips. “Sitting here with you . . . it feels like a dream.” I notice him swallow hard as he shakes his head subtly.
I need to change the subject or else I’m going to be a crying wreck again. I’ve always been an emotional person, but these damn pregnancy hormones are making me insane. I cry when I’m happy. I cry when I’m sad. I cry for no reason at all.
“How have you been?” I ask before I take a sip of coffee. My hands grip the mug tightly to hide my shaking hands.
Dark eyes flash to meet mine as if he’s silently willing me to understand that things haven’t gone so well. I guess the grass isn’t always greener on the other side.
“How’s work?” I ask an easier question. He looks at me with tired eyes and shrugs. “It’s work.” He’d always been so passionate about his work before and he seems to have lost that edge.
“Is business not going well? Tough real estate market in California?” It’s my first mention of where he lives, making the distance between our homes that much farther away.
“Most of my business is still here. Leo’s handling the bulk of it. We have one major project in the works, but other than that, it’s business as usual.”
This is surreal. Sitting here talking to him about his business seems odd, like we’re old friends catching up after having gone years without seeing each other. It certainly doesn’t feel like a scorned fiancée dumped with no explanation or reason by her lover. At the moment, anger has no place. I feel like we’re treading on thin ice; each one afraid to say the one thing that will send us spiraling into the frigid water.
“And you? How’ve you been?”
I don’t answer. My face says it all.
“That good, huh?” He laughs without humor.
“Is that supposed to be funny?” I can’t believe that he would make light of my feelings.
“Of course not!”
Silence surrounds us.
“How was your trip to Mexico?” He lifts the mug to his lips and sips slowly.
“Good. It was really good.”
“What’d you do there?”
“I met some great people and helped out wherever I could. I wanted to stay longer, but—”
“But what?”
“But I decided that I needed to come home. It was the right thing to do.”
I think of all the people I met in Mexico. I wonder briefly how they’re doing. I wonder what ever happened with Luis and Danielle. As these thoughts swirl around, it dawns on me that I never mentioned my trip. How did he know I went to Mexico? When he was still here, we had talked about taking the kids on vacation together.
“Wait a minute. How did you know I went to Mexico?” I ask although I’m pretty sure I already know the answer.
Panic dots his face as he blinks several times quickly. He’s probably trying to think of something or someone else so he doesn’t have to throw Mike under the bus. He must not be able to think of a believable answer because he blurts out, “Mike may have mentioned it.”
I knew it! Rat bastard. I’m going to kill him.
“So you talk to Mike? How long have you been talking to him?”
“Mia, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything.”
“Well, you did! So out with it!”
“We don’t talk often. Every few weeks or so.” He leans on the table and reaches back to massage his neck.
“Why?” Again, I’m pretty sure I know the answer already.
He lowers his head and exhales, answering quietly, “I needed to know that you were okay.” He looks ashamed.
We’ve found the crack in the ice and we’re about to fall through. The question is what will happen on the other side.
“Okay?! You wanted to know if I was okay? I’ve been far from okay! Do you think breaking my fucking heart was funny? Did you get your kicks from doing it?” I hiss, throwing my hands in the air.
“No! Of course not! Mia, do you think this has been easy for me?” He sits up and leans against the table with a questioning look on his face.
I feel my pulse quicken as my face starts to heat up and turn red. That calm feeling is now being replaced by anger. Am I supposed to feel sorry for him? He brought this on himself. He has no one to blame but himself.
I close my eyes and then reopen them as I suck my lips together to stop the venomous words from escaping. They’ll do no good.
“Look, I don’t want to do this with you. What’s the point? It is what is. We’re over.” I stand to clear the plates and walk into the kitchen.
I see him walk in, carrying the bottle of syrup and our coffee cups. He places the empty cups beside me on the counter and thanks me again for breakfast. The refrigerator door opens and closes. I’m sure he’s putting the butter and coffee creamer away.
There’s a stillness that fills the air. Our baby decides again that now would be a good time to
remind me that she’s here. A small flutter rolls in me. My hand moves to feel it. I wish more than anything to turn around and call him to me and let him wrap his arms around me to feel the life we’ve created.
I’m pulled immediately from my reverie and frozen in place when I feel his body press against my back as my ponytail is pushed aside and his hands slide down my arms until his fingers are entwined with mine. I know exactly what he’s going to do and I’m completely powerless to stop him. It’s as if I want to be tortured. His nose gently skims the nape of my neck and he inhales slowly, savoring the scent before pushing the air out of his lungs. I feel a shudder rip through his body when he moans and inhales again. I feel his warm lips touch me. My head rolls to the side involuntarily as it has done so many times before, giving him full access to press a long, soft kiss against my neck. It feels divine.
“Mia,” he whispers in my ear as he showers my neck again with chaste kisses, each one getting closer to my chin. “We’ll never be over.”
In that moment, I ask God why He’s allowing this to happen, why He would allow me to suffer like this. Haven’t I been through enough already? I’ve dealt with more heartache than some people deal with in a lifetime.
I feel his massive erection against my backside and let out a quiet, needy moan. One touch will be my undoing. I need to move, but my body wants his, my skin craves his touch. I’ve completely lost all control over my body; my knees start to buckle and my arm moves of its own accord, reaching back to allow my fingers to grasp the back of his head. I need this. I need him. I want to guide his hands, letting them roam all over to sate my desire.
I can feel his stubble lightly scratch my neck and chin. With a slight angle, his lips are a moment away. My mouth falls opens and my tongue darts out gently, searching for its mate. All rational thoughts are gone from my mind. I’m in the here and now and I don’t care about what will happen in five minutes or in an hour. I want this. I need this.
His tongue touches mine and slips away before returning again. I pull his head closer and smash my lips against his, tasting what I’ve craved for so many months. He grabs my neck and turns me around, placing both hands under my chin, kissing me like his life depends on it. Every neuron in my body comes alive as blood rushes through my veins, heightening my senses. I am on fire. In this moment, I realize how much I’ve missed him, how much my body has missed his. I’m spiraling out of control, falling into an abyss of lust, freefalling without a parachute. Just as his fingers trail down to my full breast, I hit a brick wall.
Instantly and without warning, my hands drop from his waist letting gravity do its work, turning my arms into heavy weights. My eyes flutter open just as his do and I drop my head. He must sense my hesitation. I’ve gone from complete mush to stiff as a board in a matter of two seconds.
“What’s wrong, baby?” He lifts my chin and kisses my lips, skating across my cheek until he finds my earlobe where he sucks it in and whispers, “Tell me you want this. I need you.” How could I not want what he’s offering? Any woman would jump at the chance to be with him, but I know him. He wants to fuck me. He wants to fuck me just like he did right before he left. And as much as my body needs it, I can’t. I won’t let myself do it. I won’t let him do this to me again.
“Just say the word. Whatever you want, I will give it you,” he promises.
Oh God, the list of things my pregnant body needs right now is long. I know he could fulfill each and every one to my satisfaction and more. He could bury himself in me, have the most incredibly intense orgasm and walk away. He’s done it before. What’s to stop him now?
“I can’t.” My voice is weak and breathy. “I don’t want this.”
His phone vibrates in his back pocket. I don’t know why I reach back into his jeans and retrieve it. I have no right to and I know it. I glance at the screen before I hand it to him. “Lauren and Dawn want you.” I take a step back, widening the space between us, putting a barrier between him and my heart.
He grimaces as he takes the phone from my hand, pushes a button and slides it back into his pocket. “It’s not what you think.” He reaches for my hand and I let him take it. Insecurity and jealousy surface and are ready to boil over.
“It doesn’t matter what I think.” I look up to see his sad brown eyes. “You are free to do what you want with whomever you’d like. I’m free to do the same.”
“I am not a free man. You have me bound. Please let me explain. You need to hear me out,” he begs.
“You have no idea what I need” I snap. “You. Have. No. Idea.”
“What do you need, Mia? Tell me.” I see so many things in his face. Remorse. Regret. Sadness.
“Why? What difference will it make? I’ll tell you what I don’t need! I don’t need you coming here, kissing me, messing with my head. And I definitely don’t need you trying to fuck me for the fun of it!”
“I wasn’t trying to fuck you.” He seems almost affronted. “I need you, but you’re not listening.” He lowers his voice.
I hear a light knock on the door and I see Shane standing there. Oh, for the love of God! He truly has got to have the worst timing in the history of forever!
“We’re not done. This isn’t over.” I hear him say before I walk to the door. I step outside so Shane doesn’t have to come in.
“Hey.” He leans in for a quick peck on my cheek. “Are you okay? I texted and called you earlier, but you never responded. I got worried.”
“I’m fine. I think my phone is upstairs.”
“Well, I just wanted to be sure that you’re not still upset about seeing Adam yesterday. I couldn’t believe he just left without saying a word. What kind of asshole does that?” I wonder if Shane catches the way my eyes briefly open wide knowing that just inside, a certain asshole can hear the conversation through the open window. “You deserve so much better than that. You always have.”
“Shane . . . please don’t start this again.”
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything, but it’s the truth. You deserve better.”
I purse my lips and agree. He’s right and I know it. I do deserve better than this.
“I’m heading out. I’ll call you soon.” After a quick hug, he climbs into his pickup truck and leaves.
I nearly collide with his hard chest when I turn back around. Adam’s tall body fills the doorframe. “I hate that motherfucker.” This is no surprise to me, but I roll my eyes and ask why anyway.
“Because he wants you, and he thinks he can have you.”
“Maybe he can. Maybe he has.” In all my life, I don’t think I’ve ever been such a cold-hearted bitch. I don’t know where the words came from; they just slide off my tongue as I brush past him.
“Mia! Please tell me you didn’t go back to him after what he did to you.”
“Hah!” I snort, laughing sardonically. “Aren’t you the pot calling the kettle black?”
A deep growl emanates from his throat, an annoyingly clear display of his aggravation.
“He fucked another woman in a bathroom while you sat at the bar and waited for him. What kind of asshole does that?” He narrows his eyes as he shakes his head, possibly clearing the image as he repeats Shane’s words.
“You’re no better! You fucked some random redhead while your fiancée waited at home with your children.” I am seething. “Or maybe she wasn’t so random.” I’m on the warpath and I won’t be stopped. “Wasn’t she the one who showed up at your house that day?” I remember the smug smile she gave me. I would’ve liked to have slapped it off her face.
An angry man stares at me. A guilty man stares at me. “Do you really believe that I would do that to you? That I would’ve given up everything we had for a fuck?” Right before my eyes, he transforms. The sad, disappointed little boy is back; the one who showed his face on Christmas Day when he called his father who was rushed off the phone. “You know me better than that.”
“I thought I did! What else was I supposed to believe?” I f
eel my chin start to quiver. “You wouldn’t talk to me. All you kept saying was that you fucked me over.” I look down. I can’t look at that face anymore. It’s killing me.
“I loved you. I still love you. I gave you up so I could save you. I know what I am capable of doing to people. I’ve seen it. I’ve lived with it.”
As if someone else were in my body, controlling my movements, I step forward and wrap my arms around his waist and hold on with all that I have. He quickly moves to pull me into his chest and comfort me. I have no more tears left, but my throat and my heart still ache just the same.
Adam
YOU KNOW THOSE gruesome stories about people being burned alive or torn apart at the limbs for crimes they’ve committed, I know the feeling. My heart is being ripped out of my chest and I’m helpless to stop it. She’s in my arms and I have a decision to make. I can choose to leave again and live with the pain and misery of knowing that I broke both of our hearts or I can stay and fix the things that I’ve broken, namely this beautiful woman in front of me.
“I hate this,” I murmur into her hair that smells like strawberries. “I hate knowing what I’ve done. Let me fix this, Mia.”
She shudders against my chest. “My heart is in a million pieces, I don’t think you can fix that.”
“Let me try.”
“What does that even mean?”
“Give me a chance to make things right.”
“I don’t know what to say,” she says quietly. “You break up with me, leave the state without a trace and then show up one day and expect me to just take you back? This is crazy and it’s terrifying!” She looks up at me and I’m surprised to see glassy eyes but no tears. “Who’s to say you won’t leave again? What happens then?” she asks, looking for a promise I wish I could make. I know that my words have no meaning to her right now. All I can do is show her every single day that I love her and I want to be with her until I take my last breath.