by McLean, Jay
“I’ll take four more of what she’s having,” a quiet female voice says from what seems like inside my skull.
I’m… tipsy. Okay, maybe a little more, but I’m not used to this whole drinking thing, and I overestimated my ability to consume alcohol. Bleary-eyed, I lift my head. “Bad day?” Lucy Preston, or whatever her married name is, is standing beside me, removing her coat, and arranging it on the back of the barstool next to mine.
I don’t know what part of my anything right now is screaming for company, but I don’t tell her to leave. She’s too little and beautiful and porcelain-doll like that I fear I might break her if I so much as speak loud.
So I smile. “Don’t mind me; I’m just having an existential crisis.”
“Ah,” she says, jumping onto the stool. The man behind the bar brings the drinks over, and she pushes two toward me, and then practically inhales one of hers. It’s impressive, really, and I’m kind of in awe. “What is that?” she asks, licking her lips.
“Manhattan.”
“Fancy,” she giggles, then faces me. “You’re paying, right? Because I’m a broke bitch.”
The laugh that busts out of me is so foreign to my ears. “I got you.”
“So,” she says, and she’s turning her entire body to me. “What are you doing here at 6 p.m. on a Tuesday evening drinking fancy drinks and slamming your head against the bar top?”
This woman is funny. Had she always been like this? She wasn’t really around when I was, so I don’t really know her, and maybe that’s why I’m not getting those same dark vibes from her that I do her brothers. “You first.”
She shrugs. “Just finished work, meeting someone for dinner, but they’re running late. Now you. Existential crisis of the penis type?”
“No!” I gasp and look around. I may be buzzed, but I’m not one to have conversations about private parts in public places. I feel my face redden, and she giggles.
“So, not a boy problem?”
“No.” I almost laugh at the thought. “The b-word motherly type.”
“B-word?” She says the word slowly. “How old are you?”
My smile falls. “Twenty-two.”
Her grin spreads. “Say it. It’ll make you feel better.”
“No.” I’m shaking my head, looking around again.
“Do it!” she encourages, and she’s smiling so wide, I can’t help but grin along with her.
“Bitch,” I whisper.
“Oh, Mia,” she says through a giggle. “Girl, you gotta shout that shit.”
“Bitch,” I say, a little louder, and she shakes her head, disapproving. I inhale a huge breath, and then let it out. “Biiiiiitch!” My eyes widen as soon as I say it, and I look around, expecting a scene from those movies where the music stops and everyone freezes and looks at you. No one is looking at me. Nothing has changed.
Lucy laughs, clinks her cocktail glass against mine. “‘Attagirl.”
I sip my drink.
“So, what’s up with Vagina?”
She has said both penis and vagina in the span of a minute. In most cases, I’d be put off by the crassness and maybe a little disgusted, but as I said: porcelain doll. “You call her the V-word, too?”
She giggles again but lets me slide this time. “Girl, I made up that name. Pretty sure I said it the moment I saw her, to her face, and then accused her of trying to be with my dad for his money.”
I mean… she’s not wrong.
“My dad wants to get remarried, so he needs to get a divorce. Technically they haven’t been together together since I was born, so…”
“So what’s the bitch’s problem?” she asks, and she’s already finished her second drink. I raise my hand to the bartender and ask for another two for her.
“She doesn’t want to sign them because she thinks she’s somehow entitled to his wealth.”
“Wealth?” she asks, one eyebrow cocked.
I nod. I don’t really like talking about Dad’s money, but in this case, I don’t see the harm. “He made some smart investments right out of college and has kept making them since, so he has a lot of money.”
She nods, slowly, and then gestures for the bartender. “I’ll take another two on top of the two she just ordered, please and thank you.”
A giggle erupts from deep in my chest.
“You can afford it, right?” she asks, and I nod. “So, she wasn’t around when he earned the money?”
“No.”
“Where were you?”
“I stayed with my grandpa. I didn’t really have much contact with either of them growing up, but my dad’s really stepped up the past five or so years, and I love his fiancée, so I’m doing it for her mainly.” Why I’m divulging all this to a virtual stranger is a mystery, but… I figure I’ll never see her again, and truth be told, it’s nice to get it off my chest.
“Got it,” she says, then sucks in a sharp breath. “Well, good luck with that. To be honest, I was hoping for some juicy penis problems, so…” She shrugs, smiling. “You got any of those for me?”
“No,” I laugh. “I’m sorry.”
“It gets a little boring, you know? The whole mom thing. Don’t get me wrong; I love my daughter, but sometimes I just want something else to fill my days. And all my friends are in steady relationships, and I don’t get to read as much as I used to… so yeah, penis gossip.”
“I’m sorry I can’t help you with that.”
The bartender brings her four more drinks, then mentions he’s going to charge as we order, just to be safe.
“So you’re not dating anyone?” Lucy asks me.
I shake my head, leave it at that. If she starts to dig, I might have to leave, and I don’t want to. She’s been the highlight of my stay.
“Eh,” she says. “That’s what toys are for.”
“Oh my god,” I whisper, covering my face.
She nudges my side with hers. “You’re such an innocent little thing. I like you. Sucks you have a bitch of a mom. You deserve better.”
I deserve better. She has no idea how long it took me to understand the value of those words alone.
“There’s my dinner date,” she says. “You should totally join us.”
I lower my hands and follow her gaze, and there, walking toward us is Leo Preston.
It takes a tenth of a second for my smile to be wiped, for my spine to straighten, for my body to shift and stare at the neon sign behind the bar as if it’s the most fascinating thing in the world.
“I found a friend,” Lucy announces.
I don’t look at him when he says, “I see that.” But I hear him. And I feel him everywhere. Right down to the darkest parts of my soul. “Hey, Mia.” And there it is, the spark that lights the darkness.
Then I do something I could avoid when we were surrounded by a hundred other people, but can’t do here without looking like an idiot. I face him. Head-on. My eyes on his. Eyes that hold mine and make me breathless. “Hi.”
“How are you?”
Better. “I’m good.” And calm, surprisingly. Huh. “What about you?”
He shrugs.
Lucy hugs his waist. “Leo’s about to leave for six months, so—”
Leo sighs, cutting her off. “It’s only in Charlotte, and I’ll be back on weekends.” He rolls his eyes playfully.
“I’m trying to get in as much time with him as possible,” she says, then reaches up and pinches his cheeks. “My little Leelee,” she coos, and I can’t help but smile.
He swats her hands away. “Who are you calling little?” It’s true. He’s not little. Not by any stretch. Even at eighteen, he was built, but now… he’s a tank.
She resumes the hugging of his waist and pats his stomach. “He’s going into the police academy.”
“You are?” My eyes are wide as I watch him, and he nods, darts his gaze away for barely a second before meeting mine again.
“Yeah.”
“That’s… great.” I smile, and it’s genuine. “I
’m pr—” I break off, shaking my head. I’m proud of you? Who says that?
Lucy gasps so loud, even the bartender gets her attention. “I have the best idea!”
“Uh-oh,” Leo murmurs, looking at the empty cocktail glasses on the bar. “How much have you had to drink?”
Lucy’s eyes are enormous when she practically squeals, clapping her hands, “You guys should fuck!”
“Okay, time to cut you off,” Leo’s quick to say while I go back to the neon sign. It’s green and pink and says cocktails, and all I see is cock, and oh no. I’ve been with Lucy for five minutes, and she’s already rubbing off on me.
“No, you should!” Lucy yells as if this is literally a great idea. It is not. “You’re leaving, and she’s leaving, and she’s not seeing anyone, and you haven’t had a girlfriend in years.”
“We might have to skip dinner. Let’s get you home,” Leo says, and from the corner of my eye, I see Lucy being lifted out of her seat. Maybe I shouldn’t have bought her all those drinks. Also, where has all the oxygen gone? Because it’s not in me or around me.
“You should, Leelee!” Lucy is adamant. “Look at her! She’s fucking hot!”
My face flames red.
“Luce.” Leo sighs. “I’m well aware of Mia’s beauty.”
There are no goodbyes when they leave, and I don’t watch them go.
I’m too busy replaying Leo’s last words in my head, over and over.
I’m well aware of Mia’s beauty.
I blink back the reckless tears from my eyes. Because the truth is, I believe him. And the truth is something that took years for me to understand. He wasn’t the only one who walked away, who did everything he could to avoid the situation. He had guilt, and I had secrets. And we avoided each other because we loved each other. And that love for each other was greater than the love we had for ourselves.
Leo
“Did you know Mia’s mom is a bitch?” Lucy is shitfaced. She’s sprawled across the backseat of my truck, and she hasn’t stopped talking about Mia. Thankfully, she’s gotten off the subject of me fucking Mia.
“Yep,” I murmur, checking the rearview to make sure she isn’t about to hurl. She’s so fucking small, and it’s not that she drinks too much; it’s just that she drinks too many when she does.
“Did you know that her dad is, like, loaded?”
“Yep.”
“Did you know that she’s here to get divorce papers signed?”
“Yep.”
“How scandalous.”
“Yep.”
She grunts, and when I check for her between the seats, her face is right there—an inch from mine. “Does she know?” She’s looking at me with accusatory eyes like she used to when we were kids and she was asking if any of us had been in her room.
“Know what?” I huff. I’m not annoyed that she’s drunk or that she’s talking about Mia. It’s those eyes. They scare me.
“That you took a picture of her on my phone when you were kids?”
My eyes widen, and I do that lame headshake thing as if it needs that little jolt to make sure your mind is working, because there’s no possible way I heard what I just heard.
My reaction must be answer enough because Lucy smiles her Drunk Lucy smile and sits back down. “When you delete pictures on the phone, it just goes to a deleted folder.” Her eyes lock on mine though the rearview, suddenly sober, and knowing. “Things don’t just stop existing, Leo. Not unless you want them to.”
Chapter Fifty-Seven
Mia
It’s day five, and I’m at my wit’s end. I need to go home. I have things to do and people to see and work waiting for me. I can’t just sit here anymore, in a hotel room, in limbo, waiting for my mother to concede. She wants money—lots of it. Dad’s willing to give her some. It’s me who’s not ready to give her shit. She may have birthed me, but beyond that, she has done nothing. Not for me, not for Dad, and definitely not for Papa.
The hotel phone rings, which is odd, because besides the occasional—okay, like twice a day—room service, they tend to leave me alone. Perks of being in their version of a “presidential suite.”
I answer with a quick, wary, “Hello?”
“Miss Kovács?”
“Yes…?”
“Sorry to disturb you, ma’am.” Ugh, I hate being called ma’am. ”You have a guest down at the reception. Should I send him up to your room?”
Guest? Him? What the… “No, I’ll come down.”
“Okay, ma’am.”
I don’t bother changing out of my yoga pants and sweatshirt or even looking in the mirror before slipping on my sneakers and grabbing my phone and key card. The private elevator is connected directly off the living room, so I don’t have to wait for the doors to open. It takes no time to get to the ground level, and when the doors part, I see him. His back is to me, but I can tell who it is, and suddenly, stupidly, I regret not making more of an effort with my appearance. I stand in the elevator and give myself a moment to simply rearrange my thoughts until they’re all lined up, and I can think clearly. Leo’s dressed in the familiar way I’ve often seen him, dark denim and long sleeve tee with the sleeves pushed up. The receptionist, who I assume was the one to make the call, is talking to him, smiling, most likely flirting. If I was any other girl, I’d probably do the same. And then she stops talking because she’s pointing toward me, and I’m still standing in the elevator looking at his back. When he turns, it takes everything in me not to press a button, any button, so that I can disappear.
The other day, when Lucy was a buffer, things were fine. Now? It’s just him and me, and what the hell is he doing here?
He’s only a few yards away, but I feel like the effort it will take my legs to get to him might just kill me.
Slowly, effortlessly, his lips kick up at one corner, and he raises his hand in a small wave. I take a breath, cross my arms, and then I move, keep my head lowered. I stop a safe distance away from him. “Hey.” One word. A million questions.
“Hey,” he says, and then silence screams at me. I look up, see his eyes on mine. It physically hurts to look at him. And it’s not painful, because pain isn’t what I think about when I think of him. It’s… longing. And it’s pathetic. “I’m sorry to drop in on you like this,” he says, and he tries to look away, but he keeps coming back to me. “I, um, I hope you don’t mind, but I got you this.”
It’s only now I realize he’s been holding on to a stack of papers, and he’s holding them out between us waiting for me to take them. Which I do. Eventually. “What is this?” I ask, and it’s only a second later that I work it out. A gasp catches in my throat as I flip through the divorce papers, seeing my mom’s signature on all the appropriate lines.
“It’s all signed. I made sure before I left.”
My eyes trail to his, awestruck. “How… I mean… why? How?”
Leo’s shrug is lazy, as if it’s no big deal. He massages the back of his neck, his head down, but his eyes up. On me. “So… you can leave now, right?”
My mouth opens to respond, but nothing comes, and everything hits at once. He didn’t do this for me. He just doesn’t want me around. His town, his home. I bet seeing me with his sister must’ve done a number on him. I don’t even have it in me to respond verbally, and so I take a step back, hoping my hurt doesn’t show. “I’ll be gone in the morning.” It’s barely a whisper, and I hate my vocal cords for deceiving me.
“No.” His eyes widen, and he reaches for me, his hand on my elbow. I look down at the touch, but by the time my eyes are there, his hand is gone. “That’s not what I meant, Mia. Shit. I just meant that it can’t be easy for you—being here, so…” My gaze meets his again. “I read about it,” he says, and he can’t hide his pain either. “About the—your—disease.” He cringes at the last word as if he doesn’t know if it’s appropriate. “I read that certain things can trigger—” He breaks off, rolling his eyes. “I just don’t want you to have to deal with anything… bad.”
I stare at him. It’s all I can do. But the longer I stare, the less vivid he becomes.
“God dammit,” he spits, taking a step closer. “Please don’t cry.”
I didn’t realize I was, but of course, I am, because I am Me, and he is Him, and there will always be something between us. I wipe at my tears before they fall and find enough grace to keep my eyes on his when I croak, “Thank you.” I lift the papers. “For this. It means more than you know.”
He nods at this, shuffling his feet. Hands shoved in his pockets, he looks around, no doubt for a way out. “So… your dad’s getting remarried?”
“Yeah, he is.”
“And he’s good to you, like… you know what I mean…”
I smile, for real, and nod once. And come to terms with the fact that Leo Preston is always going to care about me, even if it’s based on history alone, and it goes both ways. “So… you’re going into the academy?” I ask.
His grin is slight, but it’s there, and I can see the moment his shoulders relax. “Yeah, I leave tomorrow, actually.”
“Well, I know it doesn’t mean much, but I’m happy for you, and I’m…” This time, I say it loud and clear. “I’m proud of you, Leo. I know how hard you worked to get there, so…”
He laughs once, but it’s not from humor. It’s something else. “You’re wrong, about it not meaning much. It means everything, Mia.” His voice cracks on the last few words, and he sniffs once, biting back an emotion I can’t decipher. “Hey, I wanted to ask you when I saw you, but I was kind of…” I get it. When I first saw him, I was kind of… too. “How’s your grandpa these days?”
Whatever physical reaction I have gives him pause, makes his eyes widen, and then he curses under his breath.
He starts to reach out, but stops himself, shoves his hands in his pockets again. “I’m so sor—”
