Inside, I approached the drink table and poured another. I was quietly sipping it when I saw him. My spine stiffened and the hair on my arms rose in a chill.
He was standing across the room, whispering to Marlowe, but his eyes kept drifting in my direction. The air left my lungs and I stood there, dumbfounded. Not moving. Not breathing. Mouth slack and eyes wide.
Marlowe gave him a soft push and he started towards me. Before he made it, I rushed away from him and back to the yard.
My lungs were working again, and I took quick, rushed breaths to calm myself. Over the last few weeks, I’d made peace with Paul. I’d decided that what had happened was for the best. It had broken my heart, but it wasn’t defeating me. Instead of dwelling on him, I’d focused on the new job and life I had waiting for me. Everything in my apartment that reminded me of him had been boxed up and put out of sight. But seeing him…
He was wearing gray slacks. His stylish shirt brought out the clear green of his eyes. His hair was longer. It needed to be cut. But it was his face that had done the most damage to my heart. He hadn’t looked at me with longing or love. He’d looked at me with sadness.
The back door opened and Paul came out. I ran away from him again, huddling into a group of people he didn’t know, hoping it would deter him from approaching me. I couldn’t handle it.
What would we say to each other? Would it be awkward? Our small talk and catching up would wear off and then we’d stand there not knowing what to do. My heart couldn’t handle that. Not with Paul.
For over an hour, I avoided him, staying in groups, walking away when he approached. After a while he stopped trying. I couldn’t face him. Not with so many people around. Maybe not even if we were alone.
The sun was setting and Lucas’s little party was livening up. Drinks were flowing more freely and laughter filled the tiny yard. Marlowe and my brother looked so happy.
Envious of their cheer, I searched for Paul. He was standing at the edge of the yard, his back to me. His shoulders looked defeated and a desire to comfort him, to console him, washed over me. I took a step in his direction, but stopped myself and stormed into the house, needing a moment to compose myself.
Alone, I stared into the bathroom mirror. My eyes looked tired, and my cheeks hurt from the forced smiles I’d been wearing all day. Why had he come? There was no purpose to it. He was ruining everything. All of my resolve, all of my strength, it was crumbling now. I gripped the edge of the sink and took a deep breath.
He will not win, I told myself. I am okay. I am strong.
Some of my strength returned and I opened the door, but stopped dead when I saw Paul standing at the end of the hall.
I was trapped.
There was nowhere to retreat.
No one to save me from speaking to him.
He walked towards me and my palms sweated. When he was close enough for me to smell him, my eyes closed, getting lost in the memory of him.
Hating myself for that, I looked down and tried to step around him, but he blocked my path.
“Talk to me,” Paul said.
“About what?” I said, shocked that I’d found my voice. “There’s nothing more to say.”
Before I knew what was happening, he had my hand in his and dragged me back into the bathroom. His skin on mine made my heart race. Soft, gentle hands that had been wholly devoted to me. Hands that had rubbed my back and caressed my hair. Paul had beautiful hands. Exquisite in their simplicity. Long fingers. Slightly rough.
We could have been standing there for ten minutes. I didn’t know. My eyes were locked onto our joined hands, captivated by the way they looked together. Suddenly, I felt drugged, my head fogging. A surreal pleasant feeling flowed through my veins as I remembered what it had been like to be with him. On its own, my hand landed on his stomach, stretching and feeling his heat through the fabric of his shirt.
Paul finally moved. His other hand landed on the top of my thigh and he pulled me close to him. Our bodies were touching now, melting into a lover’s embrace. Needing to know what he was thinking, I looked into his eyes.
Paul leaned down and kissed me.
I couldn’t help it and fell right into his kiss, moving my lips and holding him close. I kissed him with all the love my bleeding heart still possessed. I kissed him with all the pain my chest carried. I kissed him with my hopes and dreams and wishes.
This is where Paul’s longing hid, where his love still lingered. He could look at me with sadness and regret, but his kiss couldn’t hide the passion he still felt.
His hand went under my shirt and he pulled me closer. My body responded to him—ready to open and offer itself as a sacrifice. My legs moved, preparing to wrap around his waist, but the realization of what was happening charged in like a freight train. It’s loud whistle setting off alarms and warnings.
Paul had left me. He’d broken up with me. He was a selfish coward. All he’d had to do was kiss me and I was willing to let him have me all over again. No apology. No promises.
Angry at myself, I pulled away and smacked him hard on the arm.
Paul flinched, his breaths heavy. Suddenly, I hated him. I hated how he could manipulate me without saying a word. I hated how he thought he could just take my hand and I’d be his again. I hated how he hadn’t told me he was sorry or that he loved me or that he wanted me again. I hated everything about him.
“Don’t do this,” he said.
Without responding, I opened the door and left him.
In the yard, my heart beat rapidly in my chest. I could hear its thump, thump, thump in my ears and wondered if everyone who saw me knew. Did they see the brokenness underneath my skin? Did they see the pain inside my eyes?
I was mostly out of it, too lost in my own thoughts and emotions to fully appreciate what my brother was doing. He’d called everyone’s attention to the middle of the yard where he led Marlowe.
“Marlowe,” Lucas said, “meeting you was the greatest thing to ever happen to me. You saved me, baby. You showed me what it meant to live.” He went down on one knee and pulled out a small black box. “I love you. And I can’t go another day without seeing this ring on your finger.” Marlowe gasped when he opened it, her hand covering her mouth. “Marry me,” my brother said.
Through quiet sobs, she nodded her head.
My mouth smiled even though my head and heart were warring inside me. Paul stood across the yard, not looking at his friend, but looking at me. His honest eyes were trying to tell me something, to make me see some hidden emotion he had.
I couldn’t read him. Everything was fuzzy and out of control.
I was out of control.
What did I want? Did I want Paul to make things better? Did I want him to leave me alone? I was moving soon. I wouldn’t be back to Louisiana in months, maybe even longer than that. What future could we really have now?
We hadn’t stopped staring.
Go. Stay. Leave me alone. Come over here and take me home with you.
I needed space. I needed a place to gather my thoughts and understand what all of this meant and how I would handle it when he left again.
Without a goodbye, I grabbed my things and headed home.
CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE
I PACED MY LIVING room—my bare feet running a groove into the cheap carpet. The rhythmic sound of my foot falls grounded me, gave me something to focus on. I counted out their tempo. One, two. One, two. Turn. One, two. One, two…
I had to. I had to focus on it because I couldn’t think about what my heart wanted me to. The man that I loved. The man who’d broken my heart. The man who walked right back in and kissed me.
Soft lips. Gentle. Paul always knew how I wanted him. More. Less. Intense. Timid. My eyes closed and I remembered what those lips had felt like, how my middle had turned to a warm puddle. I’d felt weightless, brittle.
My love for him ran deep. It was tattooed onto my veins, pumping in my blood. A horrible realization occurred to me. Had I loved him more than
he loved me? When I thought about all I’d been willing to do for him, all I had done, and all the things he hadn’t, tears came to my eyes.
I had loved him more. I was sure of it now.
Thunk. Thunk. Thunk.
The gentle rapping broke my thoughts and me feet halted. Frozen, I stared at my door.
The rapping returned.
Nervous, I walked towards it and peeked through the peephole, squeaking when I saw Paul standing on my doorstep.
“Mia?” Paul said. “Mia, are you in there?”
I looked down at myself. I was wearing shorts and a white tank top. My hair was a mess, all wild from my worrying with it. I ran my fingers through it, but abruptly stopped.
Why did I care what I looked like?
I took a breath and opened the door, but walked away from it, not speaking. My back was to him and I heard the latch catch. We were alone in my apartment again.
The last time he’d been here, he’d broken up with me.
“What do you want?” I asked.
“To talk to you.”
“About what?”
“Mia…Look at me. Please.”
Why did I owe him that? “No,” I said. “I’d rather not.”
Paul came up behind me and put his hands on my waist. My eyes closed and I swayed back into him before I caught myself. My back hit his chest for only a second before I jerked away and put the space back between us.
“Don’t touch me,” I spat. “You don’t get to touch me anymore.”
His face fell, but he nodded. “You’re right. You’re absolutely right. I’m sorry. I just miss you. It’s been…It’s been so long, Pretty.”
My lungs seized upon hearing his pet name. “Don’t call me that! You don’t get to call me that anymore either.”
Paul took a deep breath through his nose, as if what I’d said hurt him. He ran his hands down his face and squared his shoulders. “This isn’t going how I wanted it to.”
“How did you want it to? Did you expect to come over and I’d just forget that you broke up with me. That you cast me aside. That you walked away. From. Me. From me, Paul! How the hell did you expect me to react?”
His eyebrows shot up at hearing my mild curse and I realized that he’d never heard me use it. I also realized that my skin was hot. Angry.
Paul noticed. He put his hands up in a surrendering gesture. “I don’t want to fight with you,” he said. “I want to talk to you. Explain things.”
My arms crossed over my chest and I shrugged. “So talk.”
“I–I, uh.” He looked around my apartment. “Can we sit down or something?”
“Why?”
He swallowed, the gesture making his Adam’s apple bob. “I guess…I guess I’m nervous, all right. And you’re standing over there like you want to claw my face off and you’ve never looked at me that way before and it’s doing something to me. It’s hurting me. I don’t want you to hate me. Ever. I just want to hold you. And talk to you. And explain why I did what I did. I love you, Mia. God do I love you. This last month has been torture and I see how stupid I was. How fucking ignorant. I don’t want to be without you for one more day.”
I stared at him, my mouth suddenly dry. It was what I wanted to hear, but something inside me couldn’t relent that easy. “You know I’m moving right? I’m going to Oregon. Just like you wanted.”
“I know,” he said. “Lucas told me.”
“Is that still what you want?”
Paul finally moved, breaking the imaginary boundary I’d placed around myself. Timidly, he brought his hand up and smoothed my wild hair. I remained still.
“I want you to be happy. All I ever wanted was for you to be happy. I thought…I thought that by leaving you, you could have that. That I was giving you something. But I can’t do it. I’m selfish. I know I am. It was selfish of me to break it off with you. It’s selfish of me to tell you all this now.”
He brought his forehead to mine and my throat tightened. I struggled to keep my face from showing emotions. This was all so sudden. So much. I hadn’t stopped loving Paul. That was impossible. I hadn’t even stopped wanting him. In my mind, there was still this perfect place where he and I could be together forever. There would be no stress, no worry, because we’d have each other and it wouldn’t matter if there was an entire continent between us. Our love was strong enough to overcome that. Our love was strong enough to overcome anything.
My hands were gripping his shirt. I didn’t even remember putting them there. My eyes were watering. I didn’t even remember crying. Paul’s forehead was still pressed to mine and I could feel his warm breath against my lips. Our magnets were realigning. Our bubble was forming.
I pushed away from him.
“You don’t get to do this, Paul,” I said. “You don’t get to come over here and say a few cheap words and everything goes back to normal.”
Paul only looked at me. His eyes still peered into mine with an openness I could never hope to feel again. They searched. They prodded. Green pools promising love and devotion. And I couldn’t stand the sight of his hands. They knew me intimately and I longed to have them grab hold of me and press their strength into my skin. Seeing one as he carelessly ran it through his hair made me feel fragile, as though I would break into a million pieces. All I needed was a touch, a few empty promises, and a soft kiss to shatter me.
“You should go,” I said before he had the chance. “You should leave right now.”
Paul rubbed his hands down his face, but walked towards the door.
With his hand on the knob he said, “I love you, Mia. I never stopped loving you. I didn’t break it off with you because I didn’t want you. I–I thought I was holding you back, preventing you from following your dreams. But I know now, I see it. I want to be a part of those dreams. Every step of the way. It doesn’t matter if I see you a few days every couple of months. I will cherish those days because I cherish you.”
And then he was gone.
CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR
THE NEXT MORNING I left my apartment and met Marlowe and Lucas at a local farmer’s market. It wasn’t because I wanted to go. I had absolutely no desire to be at a farmer’s market or to be around my brother and his betrothed—especially given her affiliation with Paul. But I hadn’t been able to sleep all night. I’d tossed and turned, playing Paul’s words over in my head.
He’d said everything I wanted to hear. He’d made the promises I’d needed. And now I was scared. Afraid that we’d get back together, I’d put my whole heart into it and he’d leave again. Or I’d leave. Or we’d just drift apart and be that great love from each other’s past that we couldn’t seem to make work.
Going with Marlowe and Lucas was better than being home alone. My heart was a mess. My head was torn apart. My gut was pulling me towards Paul, trying to triangulate him in the city—wanting to be near him, to hold him and fall helplessly into his arms. I couldn’t make sense of what I felt or wanted or needed.
I’d made peace with Paul. Was I willing to let that peace go for the uncertainty of the future?
Maybe I was being a coward.
I walked behind my brother and his fiancé, mulling all this over. Was I just being afraid and scared? What good did fear ever do?
Maybe that was the point of it all. Feeling the fear. Overcoming it. Becoming the bold. That’s what Oregon was. Letting go of my insecurities and following the path I wanted.
Didn’t I want Paul?
I was so out of it, I barely registered us sitting down at a table. Someone else had joined us. Someone I didn’t even know. Marlowe was talking to her, and I think she was asking about Wally. I could feel the longing in her voice. It washed over my skin and made me sick. Wasn’t there enough longing here today? Hadn’t I filled the quota?
Not even caring that I looked rude, I burst from the table and walked towards my car. It was still early, but I had to meet Gladys later. She was finally coming home from the hospital and needed me to help her around the h
ouse for a bit. Maybe I could just wait for her to get home. It would be better than sitting with the lovebirds and the pining fool.
When did I get so mean?
At the hood of my car, I took a breath and shook out my limbs, trying to push the negativity away. This wasn’t me. This was my brooding heart making me all emotional.
“Where are you going?” Lucas said from behind me.
“Away,” I said. “Being around you two is making me sick.” So much for pushing away the negativity.
Lucas chuckled and came to stand beside me. “Are you going to see Paul?”
“No.”
“You should.”
“Why?”
Lucas worked his mouth around, thinking. “Call it a hunch. When I asked him to come in this weekend, I wasn’t sure if I wanted him to. I knew you’d be at the party and–”
“You asked him to come!” How could he?
“Calm down. Yeah, I asked him. But I felt him out first. Tried to see if he was as big of an asshole as I thought he was. And after talking to him for a few minutes, I realized something.”
When he didn’t continue, I shrugged my shoulders and widened my eyes, saying spit it out.
“Well,” Lucas continued. “First, I realized that he is still so in love with you. As soon as he answered he was all, ‘Is Mia okay?’ ‘Do I need to come back?’ ‘I’m getting on a plane right now.’ So that right there tells me that he still has some serious feelings. Look, I don’t know what happened between you. And I’m not the best person to take advice from.”
“You’re right, you aren’t.”
Lucas ignored me and continued. “But it seems to me like maybe he was just mixed up in the head. I like Paul. And I don’t like anyone you’ve ever dated.”
“So you think I should just give this another shot? Just like that?”
“No. I’m not saying that. I’m just saying you need to listen to what your body is telling you. When Marlowe and I split, I was going crazy. I almost moved away. I nearly left because I was too proud or too chicken to go to her. I was going to leave, Mia. Every day I think about what would have happened had she not shown up in my driveway looking all vulnerable and beautiful. I’m getting married to her. I’m gonna spend the rest of my life with her. And that all could have been lost because I was too stupid to see what my soul was pulling me towards. So…just listen to yours all right?”
Mia Found (Starting Fires Book 3) Page 27