Not drunk, my ass.
This entire situation was deja vu. It was so similar to the first time we met, it was like reliving the past all over again. Except, last time, I was the drunk one.
Chapter Two
Mia Bryant
Twenty-Six Years Old
Oops! That was soooo unsmooth.
Unsmooth?
No.
Is unsmooth even a word?
Maybe. Doesn't sound right though.
No.
Not smooth?
Yeah.
That was soooo not smooth.
But un- means not, right?
Oh, whatever.
I hadn't wanted Adam to know I was still an itsy bit tipsy, therefore knowing that I was in anyway vulnerable, but it was too late now and I hated that he knew.
Actually, I hated everything about Adam and everything that he represented in my life.
Mistakes. Failure. More mistakes.
I hated that I'd had to call him. I hated that I really did need his help. I hated seeing him when I never wanted to see him again for the rest of my life.
I didn't even want him invited to my funeral.
Speaking of funerals, I hated that the last few memories I had of Adam still haunted me. I hated that my heart still shattered into a million pieces when I thought about the loss of what could have been, but never would be. I hated being around him, and I especially hated how Adam knew how to bring out the worst in me.
I hated that, even after six years apart, he still looked just as good and, if possible, bigger and better. I hated that he still looked delicious in a pair of khaki slacks, and I hated that the blue polo shirt he was wearing clung to him in all the right places. It outlined the bulging muscles in his arms and his broad shoulders. I also hated that the blue shirt brought out the blue specks in his stupid green eyes
I hated that even though he looked nothing less than badass macho buff cop, he still had a baby face; easy on the eyes, chiseled, clean-shaven jaw and soft, full lips that I wanted to make bleed with my teeth.
My teeth tingled, preparing to bite him if he came close enough. Not for pleasure, but for pain. I wanted to make him bleed for every ounce of pain he'd ever brought on me.
I hated that he still cut his jet black hair the same; clipped, nearly shaved, but still long enough to be soft to touch.
My hand twitched, ready to slap him across the side of his fat head.
I hated that he still looked at me with his soft eyes like he actually cared, when the reality was, he never gave a shit about me.
I hated that the arm he had wrapped around my waist made me feel safe, when safe was the last thing Adam was. He was still the ultimate cheating, lying, scum-of-the-earth douchebag and everything that had to do with Adam was just plain...fucked up.
I hated that I was always the one that ended up suffering when he was able to move on with his life like I never existed.
But things were different now and I had a new life. A good one. There was no changing the past and I refused to relive it or dwell on it for another second.
I put my hands on his chest and tried to push out of his hold, but his arm around me tightened.
"I'm sorry," I said softly, my momentary laughter having long died out. "I'm sorry I called you. I never should have let that cop guy boss me into calling you. I should have called Max.”
His nostrils flared and his eyes narrowed, another sign he was pretending to care when all he really cared about was himself.
“Is Max your boyfriend? Is he the one you told me about the last time I saw you?” he growled and I rolled my eyes.
“Not that it’s any of your business, but yes, and yes.” I pushed on his chest again, but he didn’t budge.
“What’s his last name?”
I exhaled, feeling tired. “Like I’d really tell you, Adam. You have no right to know. The only other boyfriend I had, ended up moving to another state.”
“I had nothing to do with that,” he stated, so fast I turned to stone. He was lying.
“Funny.” I narrowed my eyes on his. “I never said you did.”
He shrugged.
Oh my God! That selfish bastard.
“How could I have been so stupid? I can’t believe I ever doubted you," I whispered to myself, shaking my head, putting two and two together.
I felt sick.
“You ran him off, didn’t you? I thought I’d been doing the decent thing by telling you since we were still legally married, but…that was the same time I asked you for an easy and fast divorce because I hadn’t had the money to fight you...” I trailed off, my words leaving a bitter taste in my mouth.
“What an idiot I was! I should have known when you agreed to the divorce without putting up a fight that you had something to do with Cole leaving. You just agreed. Cole didn’t even break it off with me in person, just left me a fucking note on my door that said he thought it’d be better if we went our separate ways and that he was taking a job in Boston. No explanation: nothing!” I shouted the end. Adam showed no emotion. Not even a blink!
I took a deep breath and continued. “In the back of my mind, I always wondered if you had anything to do with it, but seeing as how you fucked anything with a vagina, I didn’t really believe it. I mean, why would you have wasted your time? I hadn’t seen you in over a year...but, I should have known. How did I not know? I thought you were just being your typical asshole self, but I should have put everything together when I still went forward with filing for divorce and you immediately had an attorney sending me requests for everything I had, fighting me for everything I owned, when you knew I had nothing and couldn’t afford to fight you!”
Realization was kicking in hard, making my already fuzzy head spin as emotions overpowered me. Tears welled in my eyes.
"God! You're a horrible, horrible person. How...why are you so mean to me?" I cried. "I don't understand...I've never understood. What did I ever do to you to make you hate me so much?"
"You left me," he hissed in my face and let me go, so fast I nearly stumbled again. He backed up an inch, lifted an arm, rubbed a hand over his short hair and looked down at his feet. He inhaled, exhaled, shook his head and sighed before looking at me again.
“Mia, we need to talk about this,” he said softly, remorsefully, but his tone only served to piss me off.
“It's too late for talking, Adam. The time for talking was six years ago, but I will tell you this: I'm filing for divorce, again. I want nothing from you, but more importantly, I never want to see you again. You want to fight the divorce this time, go right ahead, but don't expect me to give up or give in. I’m not the helpless little girl I was, so if you want to fight me on it…bring it!”
I still couldn’t really afford to fight him, but I would sell everything I owned to finally be rid of him for good.
“You still working at the travel agency?” he asked, and at first I thought he was changing the subject until my mind registered the arrogance in his tone. I knew exactly what he was thinking, and the way he asked his question also confirmed that he already knew the answer. This meant he still kept tabs on me, which burned me up inside.
He assumed that since I was still working for the same company I’d been working for since dropping out of college, and considering travel agents were typically only paid a median salary, that I wouldn’t be able to fight him for long, and he was right.
But I was about to wipe the smugness off his face and shove it up his arrogant ass.
“I am, but Max - my boyfriend, in case you forgot - wants this marriage done, and he’s not fucking around anymore. I’ll fight you until I can’t fight you anymore, and then he’ll step in and help me out if I need him to. He wants me all to himself and he’s definitely not someone that you’ll be able to scare away. Not this time.”
Smugness…vanished.
Energy in the room…explosive.
Expression on Adam's face…homicidal.
I never saw the movement coming
.
His arm shot out and his hand wrapped my upper arm, gripping me hard and tight, but not painfully. His opposite hand shot up, grabbed my chin and lifted my face to his.
He was too close.
“What are you doing?” I breathed.
"Who the fuck is he?" he demanded to know, his voice so low and dangerous, I had to fight against cowering. I didn't want to answer him, but I knew there was no getting out of this room otherwise. But I still tried.
"Adam, it’s none-"
His voice thundered when he cut me off. "Tell me who he is right the fuck now, Mia!"
I flinched, looked anywhere but at his face and rushed, "His name is Max...Max Lowe." Then I lifted my head and watched. As soon as I saw recognition flash across his face and fury fill his eyes, I swallowed hard. I don’t ever remember him looking so angry.
"You're seeing a fuckin’ cop?" he asked in outrage. I recoiled.
I kept my mouth shut, until he let go of my chin and turned. He kept hold of my arm, pulled me behind him and I was surprised when he started dragging me toward the door.
“Let go of me!” I screeched while tugging at my arm, but he just kept on stalking toward the door. “Adam, wait! My purse!” I decided to try a different tactic, although I had no idea why the thought to grab my purse popped into my head in the current situation. However, my words did work to pull him up short. He turned back, snatched my clutch purse off the desk and started back for the door again, all the while never letting go of my arm.
He threw the door open; it banged against the wall and he pulled me into the open room where, other than ringing phones, there was silence.
All eyes were on us.
"Johnson," Adam barked out, and a full-figured, very attractive African American woman, wearing a pink button-down shirt and black blazer, stood up and called out without hesitation, "Wha'd up, Sarge?"
Sarge?
As in S - G - T?
He was a Sergeant?
Adam kept walking, but he still managed to continue barking orders in clipped sentences at Johnson. "You find Lowe. Narcotics. When you do, you tell him to come find me and you tell him to come alone."
"Adam, stop it," I hissed.
I was embarrassed and I tugged once more at my arm, but again, he ignored me and kept pulling me along.
We passed by the wide-eyed older man, whom I recognized as the officer who had gotten me out of jail, and I snapped, “Are you just going to stand there and let him man-handle me? Isn't this illegal?” He opened his mouth, but he didn’t get a chance to respond, because Adam never stopped. My eyes looked at the older man for help, but Adam just kept dragging me behind him, until we made it to the elevator.
“I’m going to file a police report on you. How do you think that’ll look in front of a judge when I divorce your ass? And Max is never coming to see you,” I hissed at Adam while we waited for the elevator, but a second after I finished, the elevator dinged.
“Be quiet and get in,” he growled with fury on his face as he pulled me inside.
“Fuck you,” I spat at his side and he ignored me, again, to push the lobby button. He waited until the doors closed to shake his head and grumble, "Max Lowe." He made the name sound dirty.
"He's not coming to see you. I won't let him," I stated haughtily and Adam's eyes narrowed to slits.
"Oh no?" he asked like he knew something I didn’t, before continuing through a nasty grin, "Trust me, freckles, he'll come. If he wants what belongs to me, then he'll come...fucking...see me."
I felt all the blood drained from my face and I blinked rapidly. "What did you just say?" I breathed.
"You heard me," he snapped, just as the elevator doors opened. Then he got out, pulling me behind him once again and I was speechless.
What the hell?
"Adam, stop this. Please. I don't belong to you and never have. And we’re not in the jungle. You can't just go around telling women they belong to you. I never have and will never again let you mess around in my life when it's convenient for you, only to leave me by myself to clean up the aftermath. You're just mad right now, but you'll get over it."
I stopped when Adam walked us up to a jacked up, white, Chevy Silverado and I heard the locks pop. He let my arm go, opened the passenger door, practically picked me up, threw me inside and buckled me in, before I could protest.
He didn't move away and he leaned in further. "You belong to me, Mia. The marriage certificate I have locked away in my safe says you do," he said in a voice so soft it was scary.
"Adam, I don't, and I never have," I responded just as softly.
He leaned back and barked, "You fucking do!"
I jumped when he slammed the door.
My nerves were shot, and I was so edgy I felt sick to my stomach. I didn’t speak to Adam or look at him the whole time he drove, for fear he'd go psychotic and pull some kind of Romeo and Juliet stunt by running the truck off the road and killing us both so we could live happily ever after together in our next lives.
And then a phone rang and I figured it was one of Adam’s bitches. Don’t ask me why that was the first thought in my mind.
Then it rang for a third time and I glanced at Adam; he glanced at me.
Oh, that’s my ring tone. Duh!
I reached for my phone, praying it wasn’t Max, because if it was, how in the hell would I explain why I was with Adam?
I pulled my cell from my purse and luckily, it was Eric. Adam glared at me when I answered and I glared right back.
“Hey,” I answered, but immediately pulled the phone away from my ear.
“Mia, are you okay? I can’t believe those cops arrested you! I went to see about bailing you out, but they told me you weren’t in their system. Where the hell are you?” Eric - my best friend since childhood - shouted in my ear and I squeezed my eyes shut. World War III was about to happen in three…two…one…
“Uhhh…somebody got me out of jail,” I told him without actually telling him, and I prayed he wouldn’t ask who.
“Who got you? Max?”
Fuck!
I cringed again.
“No, Adam,” I answered through a sigh.
I heard his audible gasp that echoed in my ear. “Please don’t tell me you’re with him.”
I closed my eyes and didn’t answer.
“Mia, sweetheart, please tell me you’re not with him,” he begged softly and I twisted my neck to look out the window like that would keep Adam from listening in on my conversation, but I could feel his eyes on me.
“I’m with him,” I whispered again, loud enough for Eric to hear.
“Damn it,” Eric growled before shouting, “Don’t listen to him, Mia! Tell him to bring you to my house. He’s a lying piece of shit and we both know it!” I’d had to pull the phone away from my ear again. He didn’t have to tell me any of that, but why he was so angry all of a sudden was a little uncalled for. However, I didn’t have a chance to tell him that because my phone was suddenly snatched out of my hand.
“She’s mine for the night, so don’t even think about looking for her. If I even catch a glimpse of your face, I’ll put you in the fuckin’ hospital. Goodbye, Eric,” Adam growled into the phone just before he pulled it from his face and pressed “end” on the screen.
I gasped.
“I can’t believe you just did that!” I shouted at him and he glared at me quickly, before returning his angry eyes back to the road.
“Believe it,” he returned.
“Take me to Eric’s house, Adam,” I demanded, but all he did was shake his head. “You’re such an asshole,” I hissed, and when he shrugged like he already knew that, I turned away from him in a huff to stare out the window.
It wasn’t until we passed the exit to my apartment that I asked, “Where are you going?” He knew where I lived. It was only a few months back that he’d given me a ride home…another memory I didn’t want to have, but my place in Webster was only fifteen minutes from his house in Clear Lake.
“Adam, take me home. Do not take me to your house,” I demanded.
“Mia, I’m not taking you home,” he decided, and I could feel the panic flowing through my veins. I knew he wouldn’t change his mind either, because that’s exactly how much of an asshole he was. He wanted to throw the past in my face. I felt sick.
“Freckles, if you’re gonna throw up, tell me so I can pull over.”
My eyes narrowed to slits. “Don’t call me freckles. And I’m not that drunk. I haven’t thrown up in a car since I was a kid.”
Although, fifteen minutes later, when we pulled up outside his house, my stomach had other plans. I stared in disgust at the big, white, two-story, Victorian-style house that, eons ago, also used to be mine. Haunted memories crashed into my head, and along with the alcohol in my system, I felt nauseated.
“I don’t want to be here. I can’t be here,” I breathed loud enough that I knew he heard.
I looked down at my lap and closed my eyes. I couldn’t bear to see that house again. I just couldn’t. There were too many memories in that house and most of them were bad. My heart dropped to my stomach, especially when Adam ignored me and I heard his door open.
A few seconds later, I heard my door open. I opened my eyes, but I kept my gaze on my lap and refused to look at him.
“I can’t be here…please.” I begged in a small whisper, and I could feel his eyes on the side of my face.
“Mia --” he said in a quiet, pain-filled voice, but I didn’t want to hear anything he had to say. He just didn’t understand.
“No. I can’t be here, Adam.” My voice grew stronger.
“Mia, I get it, but if I have to live in this house every day, then I think you can handle being inside it for an hour, so we can sit down and talk like adults. Get out of the truck before I drag you out.”
I looked at him then. Really looked at him. The most beautiful man I’d ever seen.
Not perfect, he had flaws, but that only made him more beautiful. He had a small dimple in the center of his chin that could be annoying to some, but it’d always been cute to me. He had a full head of hair - though it was practically shaved - but he had a widow's peak. And that would probably look stupid on any other man, but on Adam, it was sexy and totally added to his buff cop persona.
Adam, Enough Said (This Can't be Happening) Page 3
