Anton

by Brenda Rothert

  Chapter Sixteen

  Anton

  * * *

  The coffee shop at the end of my block isn’t very busy the morning after Christmas Day. I’m having a strong cup of black coffee as I wait for Mia, and it’s already hitting me hard. I’m tapping my foot on the floor and shifting around in my seat.

  Scrolling through my phone was pointless. Nothing—from social media to ESPN—could hold my interest. All I’m thinking about is how much I want this conversation to go well. Martin and Laura are spending the day at my place with Uncle Dix, so all my focus is on Mia.

  Adam’s treating her even worse than I thought. When I saw his message to her yesterday about choking her, I wanted to choke him. He’s an inconsiderate asshole; I knew that. But to threaten her that way, to scare her and insult her, is crossing the line.

  It makes me wonder what else he’s capable of. I was up late last night, worrying that Adam will find Mia and wondering what he’ll do when he does. Whatever it takes to get her away from him, I’ll do it. Not for myself and my own selfish wants, but for her.

  When Mia walks in, I stand up and wait for her to make her way over to the small table for two. She’s wearing a green canvas coat and a matching cream-colored stocking cap and scarf. The color of the hat and scarf accentuate the dark bronze of Mia’s perfect skin. I can’t stop staring at her.

  “Hey,” she says, smiling and taking the scarf off as she arrives at the table. “Am I late?”

  “No, I was early.”

  “Ah.” She pulls off the hat and shakes out her loose, long dark curls. “Are we eating?”

  “Yeah, definitely.”

  I already ate, but I’m not passing up a chance to share a meal with Mia. I flag down the waitress and she gets Mia a coffee.

  “You look tired,” Mia says, frowning.

  “Yeah.”

  “Did Dix have a bad night?”

  I shake my head. “He slept like a baby. I couldn’t sleep because I was worried about you.”

  “Oh, Anton. Don’t worry about me. I’m okay.”

  A corner of my lip turns up in a half-smile. “No, you’re not. Didn’t we just have this conversation yesterday?”

  “It’s nothing that worrying can help, though.”

  “I was worried he’d be at your apartment when you guys got back. Or that he’d be drunk and beating down the door in the middle of the night.”

  Her eyes darken. “He gets angry when he’s drunk. Me or Anita always lock the deadbolt.”

  I shift in my seat, filled with a nervous and helpless energy that’s making it hard to sit still.

  “You’ve got to get out of this marriage, Mia.”

  “I wish I could find a way.”

  “That’s actually why I wanted to talk to you.”

  She shakes her head. “I appreciate your offer so much, Anton, truly, but—”

  “Just listen, okay?”

  She leans on her elbows and hides her pursed lips behind her folded hands, apparently realizing that I won’t let this go.

  “I made a call last night to an attorney I know, Kevin Landis. He’s a top-notch family law guy here in Chicago. He represents a lot of celebrities and athletes.”

  “But I’m not letting you—”

  “I’m not done.”

  “Okay, sorry.”

  I kind of love how impatient she can be, even if it makes it tough to finish a conversation with her.

  “Anyway, he also happens to be a Blaze season ticket holder. Huge fan. And he agreed to take your case pro bono.”

  Mia’s eyes widen with shock. “Pro bono? Why would he do that?”

  “I offered him upgraded playoff seats and said I’d go to his fourteen-year-old son’s birthday party.”

  “You did what?”

  “It’s nothing, seriously. I like cake. It’ll be fun.”

  She can’t keep the smile from her face. “You do not like cake.”

  “I actually do like carrot cake. Anyway, problem solved.”

  The waitress approaches the table and we both order breakfast—an omelet and cottage cheese for me, pancakes for her. Once the waitress is gone, Mia dives right back in to our conversation.

  “That’s really nice of you, Anton, I appreciate it, but I still have my grandpa’s care to pay for. Once I file for divorce, Adam won’t help with it anymore. And I don’t know how long the divorce would take.”

  “I talked to Kevin about that. He said he can help with Adam freezing your joint bank accounts—he can’t get away with that, Mia.”

  “Really?” Hope flickers in her eyes.

  “Yeah. And in the meantime, I’ve got your back.” I reach into my coat pocket and take out my checkbook. “Tell me how much you need.”

  “I don’t want any more money from you.” Her tone is serious.

  “You won’t even need it if you let Kevin help you.”

  I look on as she thinks this over in silence. “Why are you doing this?”

  “To help you.”

  Tears well in her eyes. “If you really knew me, you wouldn’t feel the same about me.”

  “You don’t think I really know you?”

  “Not everything, no.”

  “Do you think you ever know everything about anyone?”

  Mia takes a deep breath. “Look. There are things about me that, if you knew the truth, would change the way you look at me.”

  “I’m not Adam. I’m not some selfish asshole who only thinks of myself. I’ll never make you feel less than perfect, because I’ll never see you that way.”

  “Of course you will. Would.” She looks down at the table, then back up at me. “Anton…”

  No matter how many times she says my name, it never gets old. Her attention on me is like a drug I can’t get enough of.

  I wait for her to speak as she looks from side to side and behind her, making sure no one is listening. Still, she lowers her voice.

  “Adam makes me blow him to get the money for my grandpa’s bills. I’ve done it twice now. I feel sick as I’m doing it, but still…”

  I wince as I take in her words. My gut clenches with anger and disgust.

  “It’s pretty much prostitution,” she practically whispers, tears spilling down her cheeks.

  I reach across the table and take her hand. “Mia, no. Adam’s abusing you. You see that, don’t you?”

  “I guess I do. But I’m the one allowing it by doing what he wants.”

  “What’s your alternative? Putting your grandpa out on the street?”

  She looks out the window, her tone sad. “I’d do anything for him. And I know if the tables were turned, he’d do the same for me.”

  I squeeze her hand gently. “What you just told me says more about Adam than it does you. I still think you’re strong and compassionate and the most beautiful woman I’ve ever known. I wouldn’t look down on you for doing what you have to for your family.”

  “You’re so incredibly nice. Are you for real?”

  “Damn right I am. And there’s more than this for us, Mia. I know it. But first, you have to call Kevin and get this divorce going.”

  She nods. “He’ll do the whole case for free?”

  “The whole thing.”

  “Promise me you aren’t paying for it.”

  “I’ll never lie to you. I told you the deal I made with him.”

  Mia exhales and slowly nods. “Okay. I guess…I’ll call him, then. I can’t pass up this opportunity.”

  “Good girl.”

  She gives me a wide smile, her shoulders sinking with relaxation. “This is really happening.”

  “It really is.”

  “If Adam finds out you’re helping me…”

  “I sincerely hope he does. I can’t start an altercation, but I want to punch him so fucking bad I can hardly stand it.”

  Her eyes widen a bit. “Please don’t tell him. I’m afraid of what he might do.”

  “I won’t volunteer the information. But if he comes to your apar
tment, you let me know. I’m not gonna let him bully you anymore.”

  “You don’t have to take care of me, you know.”

  “What if I want to?”

  She just looks at me for a few seconds before saying, “If we were together, I’d want to take care of you, too. I’m never having it any other way again.”

  “I never thought that would even be an option for us,” I admit. “I figured I’d have to continue wanting you from afar. But if we can get there, Mia—if we can actually get to a point where we’re together—I promise you’ll be everything to me.”

  “I don’t know when I’ll be ready. When I am though, I want it to be you. I want that so much. But, Anton, once you learn everything about me, you may change your mind.” Her voice trembles with emotion.

  I shake my head. “That’s not gonna happen. And I don’t care how long it takes ‘til you’re ready. I’ll wait. I’ve been waiting and I’m not going anywhere.”

  Our food arrives and I pretend to focus on eating, but really I’m watching Mia put syrup on her pancakes. She drizzles it on in a little line, zigzagging it around the pancakes, but she keeps pouring until the pancakes are drenched. It would’ve been simpler to just dump the syrup on, but I find her way of doing it endearing.

  “Do you always eat healthy, or do you have guilty pleasures?” she asks me as she raises a forkful of pancakes to her mouth.

  “I stay on track during the season, but I indulge a little during the offseason. Ice cream is a vice for me.”

  “What kind do you like best?”

  I grin. “Anything Ben and Jerry’s.”

  “Ohh, I’m with you there. Cherry Garcia is life.”

  “Yep, love that one. And there’s this oatmeal cookie one I love. I’d eat it in the car right outside the grocery store if I had a spoon.”

  “What else, besides ice cream?”

  “I got a thing for nachos,” I confess. “With all the good shit on ‘em. Cheese, sour cream, meat, tomatoes, those little jalapenos, chili…”

  “Yes.” Her honey-colored eyes are bright with happiness. “Maybe we could make nachos sometime. Dix would absolutely love it.”

  “He would. Let’s do it. Beer and nachos. How ‘bout Friday night?” I run through my schedule in my head. “Shit, I’ve got a game that night. What about Saturday night? We can all watch a movie.”

  “What about your diet, though?”

  I shrug and repeat her words from earlier. “I can’t pass up this opportunity.”

  Her smile widens. “With the tomatoes, it’s pretty much a salad anyway.”

  “Agreed. And we’ll add some steak for protein; it’s all good.”

  Mia’s expression fades into seriousness and she says, “If I’m able to reach Kevin, it can even be a celebration of sorts.”

  I put down my fork, take out my phone and text her.

  “I just sent you his contact info. Call him when we’re done here.”

  “In a hurry?” she asks in a teasing tone.

  “Very much so. The further you get from Adam, the closer you are to me.”

  Her lips curve upward in a smile, causing my pants to tighten in the crotch area.

  She wants me closer. And fuck, do I want it, too. I want her bad. My cock’s not just hard for her anymore—it actually aches for her touch. I still can’t believe I’m getting a shot with her.

  Marceau may not want Mia to divorce him, but it’s happening. If I have to serve him the fucking divorce papers, walk into the courtroom with her, and move her shit out of his house, I will.

  It’s.

  Happening.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Mia

  * * *

  I glare over at Dix as the closing credits to The Shootist start rolling.

  “That was the saddest movie ever,” I say.

  “It’s a classic,” he counters. “John Wayne’s last movie.”

  “Yeah, but…it’s so sad.”

  Dix shrugs. “Sometimes life’s sad, too.” He tips a bottle of beer to his lips and finishes it.

  “Believe me, I know. That’s why I like my books and movies to be happy. They’re an escape.”

  Anton pats my knee briefly from his spot beside me on the couch. “Next time we’ll watch The Notebook.”

  “No, we can’t watch that!”

  He lowers his brows, confused. “Isn’t that a chick flick? I thought all chick flicks had happy endings.”

  “Some people would tell you The Notebook has a happy ending, but I’m never watching it again,” I say adamantly. “It made me cry.”

  Dix groans, disgusted. “Life ain’t all roses and sunshine, Mia.”

  “Yeah.” I give him a wry look. “You’re really roughing it in that fancy motorized wheelchair.”

  He cracks a rare smile. “I won’t argue with that. See how pleasant the beer and nachos made me, you two? Get me some porn and a bottle of lotion and I’ll be the jolliest fuckin’ old man you ever seen. I’ll have sunshine comin’ out my ass.”

  “Not happening,” Anton says, standing up and reaching down to take my empty plate.

  “I’ll get them,” I say.

  “Just sit, I’ve got it.” He takes my plate, then Dix’s.

  “Hell of a note,” Dix mutters. “Makin’ an old man go to his room, while you two will be out here doing a live action porno. I can’t even get a goddamn nudie mag.”

  My face warms and I stand up immediately. “Actually, I better go.”

  Anton stops halfway across the living room and looks back at me. “Ignore him.”

  “Believe me, I do. But I really should go before it gets late.”

  “You sure?”

  His expression is disappointed, and I want to sit back down and stay so badly. I can’t, though. The more I’m around Anton, the more attracted to him I am, and the less I trust myself to be alone with him.

  “Yeah.” I walk over to the chair I left my coat on and grab it, putting it on.

  “Let me put these in the kitchen and then I’ll see if the doorman can come up so I can drive you home.”

  “I’m not gonna die if you leave me in bed alone for an hour,” Dix says gruffly.

  “I’ll just take an Uber,” I say.

  “No, let me drive you.”

  I really want to. I like being next to him while he’s driving, sneaking the occasional glance down at his big hands, which really turn me on. I like the way there are no distractions—just the two of us alone, talking.

  And that’s exactly the problem. I feel guilty over how much I like being alone with Anton. I shouldn’t have come here on a Saturday night; it’s not like this is a night where I’m taking care of Dix.

  Kevin dropped everything to start my case when I called him. He asked me to come into his office immediately and told me he filed the paperwork to start the case rolling already.

  I was relieved, anxious and thrilled all at the same time. I can’t believe I’m actually getting divorced. My marriage to Adam has been an emotional prison for such a long time. Being free from him was a dream I didn’t even dare consider.

  It’s happening now, though. I’m going to end our marriage in the only way it still exists—the legal one. In the meantime, I’m not going to be a cheater. And it’s not about being true to Adam, but to myself.

  If Anton wants to be with me—which is a very big if—I want him to know exactly what he’s getting into, and I don’t want to start anything with him until I’m completely free of Adam.

  I can’t tell him the whole truth about me though. Not yet. No one’s ever looked at me the way he does, with a gleam in his eyes that tells me I’m beautiful and worthy. That shine may fade when he discovers who I really am, and I’m not ready for that.

  “Anton,” I say, my tone soft but firm. “I’ll take an Uber.”

  He nods, his shoulders dropping a little as he turns to put the plates in the sink.

  “I’ll walk you downstairs and wait with you,” he says.

  He
stands next to me in the elevator, both of us leaning against the back wall.

  “Tonight was good,” he says, clearing his throat. “For me, I mean.”

  “It was good for me, too.” I smile and stare straight ahead, unable to look at him because I know I’ll think about moving closer if I do.

  “Just good?” There’s laughter in his tone. “It wasn’t the best you’ve ever had?”

  My cheeks warm as I answer. “The nachos were, but I can’t say the movie was.”

  “Hmm. We’ll have to work on that.”

  I glance over at him and he winks. My stomach does a quick flip before the doors open and I turn to face forward again. Anton doesn’t usually flirt with me, and I find I like this side of him.

  “Uncle Dix really likes you, you know,” he says as we wait in the lobby of his building for my Uber to arrive.

  “I like him, too.”

  “I like him about ten percent of the time,” he cracks.

  “He’s really proud of you. You should hear him when we watch your games on TV.”

  “You watch them, too?”

  “Yes. I like watching with Dix. He knows his hockey.”

  “He played in high school. He wasn’t the best from what I’ve heard, but he had to be the all-time chirping champion.”

  I laugh hard at the visual. “Can you imagine?”

  “Bet he told every single opposing player, individually, about the filthy things their mothers did to him the night before.”

  When my Uber driver pulls up, Anton glances in the car at him and apparently approves because he opens the rear passenger door for me to get in.

  “Let me know you made it home okay,” he says.

  “I’ll be—”

  He cuts in. “I know, fine. Just text me, okay?”

  I nod.

  “’Night, Mia.”

  “See you in the morning.”

  I feel warm during the ride home. I never would’ve thought I’d feel so at home spending a Saturday evening with one of Adam’s teammates and his curmudgeonly uncle, but I did. Anton is nothing like Adam. And I sense that Dix wears his armor for a reason. Maybe someday he’ll want to tell me why.