Hard to Forgive (Hard to Love Book 3)

by L. M. Reid

  “Thanks again for all your help,” I tell Mia as we stop in front of her door.

  “Let me know how it goes,” she replies slipping her key into the lock. “Goodnight Cooper Williams. I have to say, I’m really not sorry anymore that I was blasting my music.”

  The door closes behind her. Neither am I.

  Even with amazing memories like the day we met, a recollection of the one bad one always sweeps in immediately after. All I can think about is how she ruined it, ruined everything that we had just to fuck Duke Donovan. Seeing her in his arms, kissing him, it set off a rage in me that I had never experienced before. Rage that had me backing out of her room and heading down the hall to Griffin’s room. The same rage that caused me to punch a massive hole in the wall as I did.

  I shake the residual pain off my hand.

  All these years later and I still don’t have a fucking clue what happened that night. I remember allowing myself to feel something for the first time, emotions directed toward Mia. Graduation was approaching and we were nearing the end of our time together. That moment, her lying before me looking like heaven and hell all wrapped into one, I was overcome with emotion. The realization that we didn’t have much time left together, hit me. I told her I was going to miss her. The statement was the closest I had ever come to establishing any type of connection between us. It was a momentary lapse in judgment. One that led to her telling me she loved me.

  Never before had she ever expressed any interest in taking us further than we were. We were friends. We had sex. That was it. Until that night, she never indicated she wanted anything more. Then, bam. I love you. The words caused me to panic. Mia was my friend. The last thing I wanted to do was hurt her. My hand rubs my chest, the exact spot she poked her finger and called bullshit on my lack of feeling for her. Of course, I have feelings for her; I’m not void of emotion. What I felt though, it wasn’t what she was looking for. I cared about her – as a friend. Nothing more.

  Then, just as quickly as she said it, she took it back and told me that she was kidding. I felt like I had whiplash. One minute I was panicking, the next I was thanking God that she wasn’t serious. I was so filled with relief that I didn’t even question her abrupt change. Which version of what she was telling me was the truth? To this day, I still don’t know.

  Griffin interrupted us. And, I admit, I was grateful. I escaped the room with him rather than staying to figure out which version of what Mia was telling me was accurate. I didn’t want to know; I didn’t want to hear her say that she had romantic feelings for me because I knew I couldn’t return them. That meant that if she really was in love with me – I was going to hurt her. I didn’t feel the same – I couldn’t. So, I left with Griffin and pretended like nothing happened.

  Thirty minutes later when she still hadn’t shown, I decided to go back to her room. Things were so fucked up when I had left, and I was still uncertain about exactly what had transpired. My hand touched the handle to find it unlocked. So, like many times before, I let myself in. That’s when I saw her – with him. That’s when the anger surfaced. Anger directed at her and then anger at me. I had felt so bad about how I reacted to what she told me. I panicked; I’m not callous. Walking in on the two of them though, it seems my guilt was unfounded.

  How could she cheat on me?

  With him?

  Whatever we were or weren’t, we had been faithful to each other for two years. Or at least that’s what I thought. Despite all the offers I had, and believe me there were plenty, there was never another girl. I mean fuck, the things Mia did to me? I didn’t need anyone else. She was always more than willing and definitely always ready.And the things she was willing to do…I groan audibly because fuck if those things don’t still give me something to think about on lonely nights. But even more than all that, being with someone else, it just felt wrong.

  Here we are, six years later and the woman still affects me like she used to. She turns me into a fucking mess. The mere thought of her and Duke together has me fuming, even now. She makes me feel things I don’t understand, want things that I had sworn off.

  Frustration takes over and I shove all the papers that are scattered on my desk off it. At the same time, I hear someone at the door to the office.

  Edith stands in the doorway. “Well what happened here? Another one of your dates get out of hand?”

  “I wish.” I chuckle at her comment, allowing it to bring me out of my funk if only for a second.

  God love Edith. She might be hell on wheels and say whatever pops in her head regardless of how inappropriate it is, but she’s been a great friend to me and an asset to my catering company. What better to then to have a rich, gossipy old lady with a whole lot of rich, gossipy old lady friends to help spread the word of your business?

  “You okay?” The question comes from a place of concern. A concern that is fueled by the fact that she has watched one too many soap operas and always assumes that there is some underlying devious plot occurring.

  I am far from okay. “I’m fine. It’s just…”

  Edith’s motherly gaze holds mine as she waits patiently for me to get my shit together and spill my guts to her. Just like I always do.

  “Not a word of this to my mother,” I instruct her.

  Over the years my mother and Edith have become close friends. There have been numerous occasions where I have caught them gossiping about me, about my love life or lack thereof, behind my back. I would probably be pissed if I didn’t know that it came from a place of love. But this, what I’m about to tell her, my mother can’t find out. If she did… the matchmaking would ensue.

  My parents initially met Mia during one of their visits to see me at college. After that it was like she was one of us. Mia’s parents were never around because well, to be blunt, her parents are self-involved assholes that only think of themselves. So, she came home with me on holidays and my parents always included her when they visited. My mother had adored Mia and could never grasp why I wouldn’t pursue something more with Mia.

  That’s because she doesn’t know what I know. She didn’t have to watch this amazing thing called love almost destroy one of the strongest men I know and turn him into a drunk, obliterated disaster.

  I plop back down into my chair as Edith takes a seat across from me. “The other night I ran into someone I used to know. Her name is Mia. We went to college together and we uh… well, we have… history.”

  Edith smiles broadly. “By history you mean you’ve slept with her?”

  “For two years.”

  Edith’s smile grows, her eyes twinkling. I can only imagine the ideas she’s conjuring up in that wild imagination of hers. The idea of me being with anymore for more than a night or two is unheard of. So, hearing this, I already know what she’s going to assume, and I need to nip it in the bud.

  “Don’t. Don’t look at me like that,” I warn her. She’s reading more into this than there is. I know her, I know how she thinks. “We were just friends, with some benefits.”

  A lot of benefits. Nightly benefits. Two fucking years of monogamous benefits for that matter. Until that night when everything went to shit.

  “I’m not looking at you like anything. I’m just trying to figure out why seeing her again bothers you so much if you were just friends.”

  “It doesn’t bother me. Not really.”

  “Not really, huh?” she says with a laugh.

  Her ability to read me, to infuriate me to the point that I divulge more information than I want to is nothing short of spectacular. I can only imagine what the poor woman’s husband had to endure during their marriage.

  “Things didn’t end well. In fact, she…”

  “She what?” Edith is on the edge of her seat now. The story I’m telling her like a real-life soap opera. One that she’s dying to be able to manipulate into a happy ending.

  “She left and never looked back. If it weren’t for us being in the same place at the same time, she would never have even reach
ed out to me.”

  “This Mia, is she the reason that you refuse to spend more than a night or two with a woman?”

  Yes. No. Not the way she’s thinking at least.

  If nothing else, being with Mia taught me something. A friend with benefits has an expiration date and it is well before the two-year mark. Two months, max. That’s all the time I will entertain a single woman for. Anything beyond that? Well, they tend to get a little too involved and that is not something I want to have to deal with ever again.

  “No. I was like that way before I met Mia,” I reply.

  I’ve been like this ever since my mom got sick when I was a kid. That's when I had to watch my dad fall to pieces at the thought of losing her. I remember watching him, a tear-stained face, bottle of whiskey in hand, a fucking blubbering mess on the couch. He had stayed that way for days, unable to pull himself together. No, Mia didn’t do this to me. The truth did. Seeing what love, what the possibility of losing it could do to a person? The anguish my father went through, it was more than anything I ever wanted to experience. If that is what love did to you then I wanted no part of it.

  Edith’s eyes glance around the office at the papers that are still scattered everywhere. “So, if you don’t have feelings for her, what’s the issue?”

  What’s the issue? Every damn thing is an issue when it comes to Mia. Her leaving, her being back, the way it makes me feel - it's all an issue. Fuck, the fact that it makes me feel to begin with is an issue.

  “There is no issue. I just… I was surprised to see her. It brought up some memories. Nothing more.”

  “And how does all this make you feel?” Edith asks.

  Fuck, Edith, really? She knows better, knows that I don’t do the whole let’s talk about our feeling’s thing. What I’ve told her up to this point is already far out of my comfort zone.

  I shake my head. “Like I need to get back to work.”

  Before the woman can barrage me with another line of questions, I grab my coat and head out the door.

  I’ve wasted enough time thinking about Mia Beckett. I need to focus on things that are important. Like my restaurant.

  10

  Mia

  “Thank you so much, Freddie,” I say into the phone. “I don’t know what I am going to do without you.”

  “Be lost and miserable,” Freddie replies. Her voice is filled with amusement, but she’s not wrong.

  Freddie and I both started at the Palm Tree Resort at the same time. We went through orientation together, got promotions together. We’ve worked side by side for the past six years. We were a team. Unlike me though, she’s happy being the Assistant Manager at the Palm Tree. Her husband, her life, it’s in Miami. I, on the other hand, don’t have ties anywhere. Kassie and Freddie are about the closest things to family that I have. Except my career. My career is my baby. Now, finally after six years of hard work, my baby has reached its full potential.

  “How’s everything going with the hotel?” she asks.

  “Great, it’s just a lot. There are so many decisions to make, so many things to double check. It literally feels like I live there.”

  That reason alone is why I called Freddie and asked her to do me such a huge favor – pack up my things and ship them to me. Being the kindhearted person that she is, I knew she wouldn’t be able to refuse and I was in desperate need of her help. I mean, we are talking about asking a person to pack up your most intimate of things. Bras, underwear, even my vibrator. I couldn’t trust that to just anyone.

  As I watch the movers bring my belongings into the building, I can feel the burdensome weight lifted off my shoulders. Hopefully now I can start to feel a little more settled and a little less like I’m here for a visit.

  “I am coming out for the grand opening and you better reserve me your best suite,” Freddie tells me.

  She makes the proclamation as if I would do anything less for the woman who just saved my sanity. “You got it,” I tell her. Joe, the mover, signals me over. “I have to go, but thank you, from the bottom of my heart. I love you.”

  “Love you back,” she says before disconnecting the line.

  I point Joe in the right direction with a few of the bigger pieces before glancing down at my emails. They just keep coming. As overwhelmed as I am with everything, I am also having the time of my life. Being the one to select the final touches, do all the hiring. Every piece of the Onyx is going to have a touch of me in it and it is the most exhilarating feeling.

  And now, with my belongings within reach, I can finally begin to settle into my new life. Maybe settle isn’t the right word. How settled can you really be when you’re constantly looking over your shoulder? Running into Cooper at Lust was a reminder of just how great of a possibility it is to run into him, even on the street. The last thing I want to do is have to face him again. I don’t know if I can handle it, let alone my poor heart.

  It is late afternoon when Joe and his team finally finish unloading the truck. I’m exhausted from just watching them and I still have several hours’ worth of unpacking to do. Kassie is supposed to be coming over tonight to help me, but until then, I’m in desperate need of some caffeine. I pull out my phone and search for a nearby coffee shop because God knows where in this mess my coffee maker is.

  I find one, just around the corner - Mugs. It’s got several five star reviews the picture looks cute. Hopefully, the coffee is just as good.

  Grabbing my wallet, I head out the door. The sun is still shining despite the late hour of the day, so I slip on my sunglasses as I slowly make my way to the quaint locally owned coffee shop. I instantly fall in love with the eclectic décor when I step inside. Local artists work hung on the walls, mismatched furniture consisting of bright colors and loud fabrics. As long as the coffee holds up, I definitely see myself coming here – a lot.

  Standing in line I peruse the menu. I came for coffee, but the more I look the more I feel like I should treat myself to something a little fancier. It’s a special day, I deserve it. When the barista asks what I want, I order the white chocolate mocha. Nothing crazy, but it’s my favorite and I rarely order it since the calories are well above what I normally consume in an entire day. And who wants to waste those precious calories on a drink? Not me. I love my food, which is why I also order the chocolate croissant to go with it.

  As I wait for my order, I check the onslaught of emails I received again. Sure, essentially, I have been running the Palm Tree for a year now, but as an Assistant Manager. Opening a hotel? Being the actual manager? That comes with a whole slew of extra responsibilities I hadn’t realized. Not that I am complaining. I am loving every second of it. It’s just that even today, the one day I have given myself off since I arrived, I am still spending a good portion of the day working.

  “Order for Mia,” the barista says.

  I grab the drink and the bag from her giving her a quick thank you. Turning to leave I barely take a step before someone runs into me. The coffee in my hand hits my chest and spills on me, my phone falling from my hand onto the floor.

  “Shit, I am so sorry,” the voice says. A voice that sounds way too familiar.

  As if my heart wasn’t racing enough from the run in, the man who ran into me is making it beat even faster.

  “Mia?” Cooper says my name surprised to see me.

  I would be too if this weren’t exactly my luck. Not to mention I now have coffee running all down my front and I can already see the screen on my phone is cracked.

  What a fucking day.

  “Let me help you,” he says as he grabs napkins from the table and begins to blot the coffee off me his hands pressing against my breasts.

  “Give me that,” I say, yanking the napkins away from him. “I think you’ve done enough.”

  I’m not angry about the coffee, the ruined shirt, or even my cracked phone. I’m angry that he’s here. I’m angry that despite being angry my body is humming with desire for him.

  “It was an accident,” he says cl
early misunderstanding where my anger is coming from. He bends down and pick up my phone from the floor as I try to clean up the remnants of the coffee he hadn’t reached yet. I just need to not drip the whole way home.

  “Let me buy you another coffee,” Cooper offers. “And a shirt. Probably a phone too unless that was already cracked.”

  The man may have annihilated my heart and my trust, but there was always this extremely sweet thoughtful side to him. Much like the one he’s exhibiting now regardless of the fact neither of us want to be experiencing this moment.

  “Not necessary,” I tell him.

  “I have to do something, I feel terrible. At least let me get your coffee. Please?”

  “Fine,” I grit out, agreeing to the coffee if for no other reason than to get him to shut up and end this moment. I just want to go home. I just want to be away from him.

  He takes the now empty cup to the barista. A few moments later he returns with a fresh drink in his hand. Our fingers touch ever so slightly as he hands it to me and the reaction, I have to such a simple gesture is indescribable. I don’t know what it is about this man, but God, he just does things to my body that I don’t understand.

  “Thank you,” I say as I take it from him. Now I can get out of here and put some much-needed space between Cooper and I. Taking a step toward the door, I attempt to make my escape, but his voice stops me.

  “So, I take it that you accepted that job opportunity you came for?” he asks.

  Based on our last interaction, I’m not sure where his desire to converse is coming from. As much as I want to turn the tables on him, treat him like he treated me, I don’t. “Yes, I did.”

  “Congratulations.”

  “Thanks.”

  “I’m actually working on something new too.”

  It dawns on me that I don’t really know anything about Cooper, the man. When I left he had been planning on going to culinary school. I don’t know if he ever did, or what he’s done since. Essentially, as much as I don’t like him for what he did to me, I realize that I don’t really know him either. There are a million questions that I want to ask him. A million things I am dying to know. The more I know though, the closer I will feel to him and the harder it will be to be so close yet so far away.