Mia Found (Starting Fires Book 3)

by Makenzie Smith

  Paul wrapped an arm around my waist. “Just for a few minutes,” he said. “And only because I want Mia to meet Momma.”

  “Right,” Marjorie said, smiling, as if it was her womanly charm that had convinced him. My brow furrowed as we followed her inside.

  “Mrs. Macione,” Marjorie said, “look who I convinced to stay.”

  I had a vivid fantasy of walking over to her and pulling her perfectly styled hair out. Instead, I smiled brightly at Paul’s mother. She was short with black curly hair that clung to her head. Her skin was a pretty caramel and her eyes a dark black. When she saw me, her smile stretched wide.

  “Mia? This is the Mia I have heard so much about? Oh, come here.” Her arms opened, and I stepped into her hug. She patted my back too hard and the air left my lungs.

  “Nice to meet you,” I said, my words strained.

  She pulled back, taking extra time to analyze my face. “You are so beautiful,” she said. “I am happy that my Paul is happy. Finally he has found a good woman.”

  Marjorie, who was still hovering in the background, bit her lip and looked away. After everything she’d done, I couldn’t understand how she was able to be in the same room as Paul.

  “Thank you,” I said to Paul’s mother. “He makes me happy, too.” She watched us with motherly love as Paul put his arm around me. “I’m sorry. What should I call you?” I asked her.

  “Lucy,” she said and I laughed.

  “Really? My middle name is Lucille.”

  “Paul loves Lucy’s,” she said smiling at him.

  Paul chuckled and gave her a hug of his own. “We need to talk,” he whispered to her.

  “Later,” she said. “Have fun tonight. You have a pretty woman on your arm and people who love you all around. Enjoy yourself.”

  She hurried away before he could say more. “She thinks I’m going to complain about this ambush,” he said. “But I haven’t had the chance to tell her I’m leaving. I was…preoccupied this week.”

  “With what?”

  “Wallowing in my grief. If you hadn’t taken me back, I was just going to leave. I wasn’t going to tell anyone. Which was melodramatic and I’ve never been melodramatic. I’m practical. Controlled. What have you done to me?”

  We stood in his parents’ living room. It was awkward at first, but as his family members approached him I saw Paul’s shoulders lift. It was obvious he hadn’t had much contact with them over the last year.

  His father was a reserved man. Quiet. Not shy. He exuded confidence. His stare bled through your skin. He really looked at you, like he was trying to weed out all your deepest, darkest secrets. My hand trembled when he took mine, and I prayed he wouldn’t notice.

  “Benedict,” he said. “You must be Mia.”

  I smiled. “Yes. It’s so nice to meet you. Your home is beautiful.” I hoped my compliment would win him over as Paul assumed. If it did, he didn’t show it. His face remained impassive.

  “My home is your home,” he said. “Feel free to explore it all you like.” Immediately, he looked away, and I felt dismissed. Paul led me to a window overlooking their spacious backyard.

  “He likes you,” he said.

  “What?” I whispered. “He barely spoke to me.”

  “That was impressive,” he said. “Usually he doesn’t talk at all. I mean, look at the way he speaks to Marjorie.”

  My eyes found them in the corner of the room. Marjorie was smiling brightly and attempting to engage him, but Benedict was ignoring her, only giving her small smiles here and there. Eventually, he walked away while she was midsentence. Marjorie watched him, but hid her disappointment well. Someone else approached her and she smiled brightly, Benedict’s slight forgotten.

  “My father doesn’t care for her,” Paul said. “Not since she and I…since Rick and her got together. He thinks she’s a gold digger.”

  I made an amused snort. “Is Rick wealthy?”

  Paul smiled. “More than some.”

  Paul and I ate the rehearsal dinner with smiles on our faces. If this was uncomfortable or hard for him, he didn’t let it show. His hand held mine, and his eyes were soft, relaxed. Even though the situation was less than ideal, I found myself enjoying meeting his family this way. I wasn’t the center of attention. Some stopped and spoke with me, but mostly they had other things on their mind. It was far less intimidating than it could have been.

  The night was ending and Paul was sipping on a beer, talking with a few of his cousins. I pried myself away from a talkative aunt and walked over to him. He smiled when he saw me, wrapping an arm around my waist.

  “You did great,” he whispered.

  “So did you. Are we leaving soon?”

  He eyed his wrist watch and I found myself loving that about him. He wasn’t the type to pull out his phone anytime he needed to know the time, and there was something inherently sexy about seeing him glance at his wrist.

  “Yeah, Pretty,” he said. “Give me a few more minutes.”

  “No rush,” I said. “I’m gonna go look for the bathroom.”

  As I walked away, I heard his cousins chuckle. “What the hell did you do to get her?” one of them asked.

  “I have no idea,” Paul replied.

  But I did. He didn’t have to do anything. He was just him. He only had to be himself. Kind. Devoted. He’d messed up, but didn’t everyone? We’d only been dating a few months, and he made the decision that was best for him. I couldn’t fault him for that. The delivery…maybe. But it was done now. I’d made my choice and couldn’t hold onto my anger anymore. If we were going to work, I’d have to let it go and focus on the things that mattered.

  And my love for Paul mattered.

  With a smile on my face, I raced up the stairs of his parent’s home. I meandered down the large hallway, searching for the bathroom. Every door was closed and I resisted the urge to snoop. Everything in their home was grand and I itched to know what lay hidden in the private rooms. Golden chandeliers? Private fireplaces? Large canopy beds?

  While I searched, I found one door pushed slightly ajar. What was one little peek anyway? With an excited breath, I gave it a gentle nudge and it crept open. It was a study, the lighting turned down low. Beautiful wood bookcases lined one wall, and I peered around to see what else the room held. I gasped and then stumbled back, not sure what to make of what I was seeing.

  Marjorie and Rick’s best man were tangled on the couch, arms and legs intertwined. Her dress was pushed up and I quickly averted my eyes.

  I moved to leave, but Marjorie called after me.

  “Wait,” she said. “Mia, wait.”

  I stopped, the awkwardness muddling my brain. The best man stood from the couch and righted his clothes. He looked back at Marjorie and she nodded her head at him. He stomped past me and shut the door.

  “I’m just looking for the bathroom,” I told her, unable to look her in the eyes.

  “It’s down the other way,” she said.

  “Okay. I think I’ll go now.”

  Marjorie’s hand landed on the door, stopping me. “You need to understand what you just saw,” she said.

  I did understand. Marjorie was a floozy. “It’s none of my business,” I said.

  “It isn’t,” she said. “But Rick and I have an arrangement.”

  “Does Rick know about it?”

  “Of course he does,” she spat. It was truly miraculous how quickly her face could turn. Gone was her authentic beauty. It was replaced by a cold, mean mask. We stared at each other, both trying to figure the other out. How many nights had Paul spent hurting over her and what she’d done to him?

  “You can judge me all you like,” she said. “But you’ll be doing this too. Why do you think I broke it off with Paul?” Cheated on him with his brother, you mean. “He worked all the damn time. He chose it over me every chance he had. The Macione brothers are like that. Work first. Personal time second. Women last. Just wait, he’ll do the same to you, and before long you won’t be
able to take it. You’ll be doing exactly what I am.”

  Why would I do that? Why wouldn’t I just leave him if I thought it was that bad?

  “If you believe that,” I said, “then why would you leave Paul for a man who does the exact same thing?”

  “Because,” she said, tears coming to her eyes. “Rick promised it would be different. And he lied.”

  “And you’re marrying him because…?”

  “There are worse things to be married to. He’ll provide for me. And any other reasons I have are none of your business.”

  She stepped away from the door, and I took the opportunity to leave. Forgetting the bathroom all together, I made for the stairs, but stopped dead when a familiar painting caught my eye.

  The reds, the brush strokes, the woman’s sadness.

  It was one of mine.

  I’d recognize it anywhere. Catherine from Atlantis had sold it, but she hadn’t told me it was to Paul’s mother. And neither had he.

  When Marjorie walked out of the study, I resumed my steps and found Paul still chatting with his cousins. My emotions were all over the place. Seeing Marjorie that way, what she’d said, seeing my painting…

  Paul sensed my presence and put an arm around me. “You ready?” he asked. I nodded my head. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing,” I said. “Let’s just go home.”

  “All right.” He took me into his side protectively, not even knowing what he was protecting me from. “Do you want to stay with me tonight?”

  Again, I nodded.

  We told everyone goodbye, and made our way to his car. Marjorie eyed me from the edge of the room, and I spotted Rick sipping a glass of bourbon. He seductively winked at me over the rim.

  They deserved each other.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  WHEN PAUL AND I made it home, we curled under his covers and whispered to each other, our hands and bodies intertwined.

  “Thank you for coming to meet my family,” Paul said. “I know it wasn’t an ideal situation. And I hope you know that I’m so sorry. For everything. For my–”

  I cut him off with a finger to his lips. “I just want to put this behind us. I forgive you. I’m not even angry anymore, only sad that you’re leaving. But I don’t need you to keep apologizing. Just make the next two weeks worthwhile.”

  Paul nodded, kissing me sweetly.

  I couldn’t get what I’d seen Marjorie doing out of my head. It wanted to burst from my mouth. Not able to hold it in any longer I took a breath and said, “Did you know Marjorie and Rick aren’t exclusive?”

  “Wouldn’t surprise me,” Paul said. “But how do you know?”

  “When I went to the bathroom, I, uh, I saw Marjorie with the best man. They were doing something…unsavory.”

  “I’m pretty sure Rick is screwing at least one of her bridesmaids.”

  “Then why are they even getting married?”

  Paul sighed. “If I had to guess, I’d say it’s because Marjorie is attractive and she lets Rick do whatever he wants. And Marjorie doesn’t care as long as he buys her things and takes her on all of his business trips across the world. When we dated, I didn’t know she was so superficial. I had my suspicions, but she hid it well. I think she molds to whatever man she’s with. She decided she wants Rick, so she molded to be what he wants. For better or worse.”

  “For better or worse.” I nestled into Paul’s chest, grateful Marjorie had given him up. “Are you happy for him? For Rick?”

  Paul didn’t answer right away.

  “If that’s who he wants, then I hope it works out for him. Though, I don’t think it will.”

  Paul rolled onto his back and his breathing evened out. A little voice begged for me to ask him about the painting, too, but I held it back. It didn’t bother me that his mother had bought it, but I’d assumed some stranger had found my work appealing. My pride was wounded. I held off, wanting to see his face. It was too dark in his room, and if Paul knew she had it, his eyes would speak the truth.

  The next day, he was distracted—always caught in a daydream. His brow creased in worried thought. His words were delivered in an afterthought. I knew what it was that bothered him.

  Today his brother was getting married. To his ex-girlfriend, yes, but that wasn’t what troubled him. Despite everything they had dealt with over the last year, Rick was still his brother. I knew Paul didn’t want Marjorie. That wasn’t it. He wanted his brother again.

  Selfishly, I used his distraction to my advantage and asked about my painting hanging in his mother’s house. “Why didn’t you tell me your mom bought my painting?”

  “Huh?” Paul said turning towards me. “Oh. I didn’t even know she had. Which one did she buy?”

  “The red one.”

  “That was one of my favorites,” he said, trying to smile, but it never reached his eyes. He gave my forehead a chaste kiss. “Is it okay that she bought it?”

  It was. I’d just wished someone else might have—someone who truly wanted it, and not because I was dating their son. “It is,” I said, looking down. Only two had sold and my boyfriend’s mother was one of them. It brought my excitement down a little.

  Paul touched my face, gently telling me he wanted me to look at him. “If she bought it,” he said, “it’s because she truly found it beautiful. My mother wouldn’t hang anything on her wall. Don’t doubt yourself.”

  I nodded, sighing when he kissed me. Even if he was troubled, this kiss was just for me. It put everything else aside and focused on pulling me out of my own thoughts. I hugged him when he finished.

  It didn’t take long for his moping to return. I watched him shuffle over to the couch and settle in front of the television. I needed to help him as he helped me. Knowing what we needed to do, I crept up to his room and found his brother’s wedding invitation tucked away in his drawer. It started at 5 p.m. We had a few hours to spare. Without telling him what I was doing, I showered and dressed. An hour later I walked down to the living room and sat next to him on the couch to strap on my shoes.

  He didn’t look at me, absentmindedly putting a hand to my back. His gentle rub was habitual, no actual love in it. I turned towards him and snapped my fingers.

  His head jerked back, but I got his attention. “What?” he asked, but saw the way I was dressed. “Are you leaving?” The sadness in his eyes made me softly smile. Paul was depressed and didn’t want me to go.

  “No,” I said. “We are.”

  “Where?”

  “To your brother’s wedding.”

  Paul’s brow furrowed. “Why? No, Mia. I don’t want to.”

  With all the love I possessed, I cradled his face in my hands. “Yes, you do. You’ve been walking around like a zombie all day. You want to go. You want to see your brother happy, even if it is with a money grubbing floozy. And you want him to know you are happy. Bury this. Put it behind you so you can move on with your life.”

  He heard my words, but didn’t want to heed them. Paul closed his eyes and rested his head against the back of the couch.

  “You know I’m right,” I pressed. “We don’t have to stay for long, but if you have a good attitude about it maybe it will make you feel better.”

  Paul sighed. “Just the wedding. No reception.”

  “Whatever you want,” I said, kissing his jaw.

  “It’s not fair,” Paul said, chuckling.

  “What isn’t?”

  “How easily you get me to do what you want.”

  “Oh, please,” I said playfully and stood, smoothing out my dress. “If that was true, you’d tell Florida to screw themselves.”

  I’d said it jokingly, but Paul’s mood deflated. “I…” he started.

  I held up a hand. “Stop. That was rude of me to say. It just…came out. I know you can’t. Not yet anyway.”

  “If you want me to, I’ll try.”

  Looking down at him, I put my hands on my hips. “Do you want this job?”

  Paul hesitated.
r />   “Take me out of the picture,” I said. “If I wasn’t here, would you want it? Is it right for you?”

  “I think so. I’ve wanted to leave for a while, but that was before I had you.”

  “Is this a better job?” Paul nodded. “A more fulfilling job?” Paul nodded. “Then I want you to have it. You’d do the same for me. Even if it was in, I don’t know, Timbuktu or someplace.”

  Paul chuckled. “I love you, Mia.”

  Taken aback by his confession, I blushed, and then fiddled with my hair. He’d said it so naturally. Without hesitation. “I–I love you, too.”

  Smiling, he stood. “Let’s get going.”

  Paul dragged his feet, taking much longer than he needed to, but when he walked down the stairs of his townhouse, my breath left me. It wasn’t like I’d never seen him in a suit, and he dressed well on a daily basis, but there was something about this suit in particular.

  It was navy and fitting his frame to perfection. He was wearing a plain white shirt underneath his jacket, but the collar was open, exposing the deep crevice of his neck. He was distracted, fiddling with a sleeve, unaware that I was mesmerized by him. As soon as his feet hit the bottom landing, I stepped into him and gave him a firm, passionate kiss.

  All of it was crashing down on me. The way he looked. The way he moved. The way he thought and spoke. Paul loved me. The warmth of that love coursed through me and I knew it with all my heart.

  All of the decorations in the church were stunning. The late afternoon sun bled through the stained glass windows, casting filtered light onto the flowers and people.

  Paul’s mother practically cried when she saw him walk in the door. It became obvious why he hadn’t wanted to come. All of his cousins, aunts, and uncles approached him with rueful eyes. Some of them even saying things like, “It was so big of you to come.” Or, “Just put all of it behind you.” Paul accepted their “wisdom” in stride, even managing to politely smile.

  We took our seats on his brother’s side, and I made sure to wrap my arm around his, squeezing in as close as I could get. He needed to know I was here for him. Not because of how hard this was, but because of the immense awkwardness. I hadn’t predicted that. It was easy to forget he’d seen heartache and pain not long ago. Slowly, so I could take my time caressing it, I threaded my hand with his. He smiled down at me and then leaned in to place a kiss to my forehead.