Mia Found (Starting Fires Book 3)

by Makenzie Smith

  “Okay,” I said again and went to him when he gently tugged on my wrist. Our mouths connected and my doubts melted away. He’d call. I knew he would. “Goodnight,” I said as he pulled away.

  “Night, Mia.” Paul smiled, rubbing a thumb along my bottom lip.

  Over his shoulder, I saw Fiona’s car pull into the complex and I quickly opened the door, not wanting them to have another interaction.

  He gave me a wave and drove away just as she was pulling in.

  “Was that Paul?” she asked, meeting me on the steps.

  “Yeah. You just missed him.”

  She sighed. “That’s a shame. I could use some eye candy right now.”

  I rolled my eyes and walked up the stairs. “Well, where’s Fontenot?” I asked, but then remembered he was out with Nicole.

  “Couldn’t tell you,” she said. “Haven’t talked to him all day.”

  “Trouble in paradise?” I chided.

  “Please. We don’t have to be up each other’s asses all day like some couples.”

  Couples. Is that what she thought they were? Maybe I should tell her where he was. “You know—”

  “Stop,” she said, pushing past me. “Fontenot and I are fine. Stop with the jealousy.”

  Jealousy. That was her favorite word, even when it didn’t make sense. Why would I be jealous of them? She just knew how much I hated the jibe and used it liberally.

  “Fine,” I said, throwing my hands out. “I’m so jealous of you and Fontenot.”

  Inside, we went our separate ways. For the rest of the night, our apartment was quiet and I turned in early, thinking of the way Paul’s lips felt against mine.

  It was 3 a.m. when Fontenot’s obnoxious laugh reverberated outside my bedroom door. I threw a pillow over my head and drowned out their energetic coupling.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  OUR APARTMENT WAS QUIET the next morning, and I tiptoed around not wanting to wake the “lovebirds.” Half-full beer bottles and crushed cigarettes littered our table and I scowled at Fiona’s bedroom door. Smoking?

  She and I had gone through a phase when I hung out with Candace, Lucas’ ex-girlfriend, but we’d agreed to leave it behind. Fontenot had apparently convinced her to pick up the habit again. I hadn’t planned to clean before leaving for class, and didn’t have time. The trash would have to wait until I got off work because I knew Fiona wasn’t going to pick it up.

  With a huff, I grabbed my bag and slammed the front door as loud as I could, taking pleasure in the small annoyance I might have caused them.

  During class, I tapped my pen against my notebook, but couldn’t concentrate. My eyes drifted to my phone every few minutes and each passing hour brought another pang in my gut.

  Paul hadn’t called or texted.

  It was only 11 a.m. when I finished with my classes, but I knew he was awake and doing something. He’d said he had to be up early. Why hadn’t he texted me?

  As I pulled up to Faeries and Moonbeams, I ran two frustrated hands down my face. When did I become so needy and insecure? I needed to relax. He said he’d call and he would. After a calming breath, I walked into the store.

  “Good morning my dear, Mia,” Gladys said. She was the owner and flitted around the shop like a nymph. Her dress went to her ankles, flowing out in a disarray of fabrics and colors. Her hair was always frizzy and she wore big thick-rimmed glasses. “I trust your day has gone well?”

  “Yes,” I said.

  Before I even had time to deposit my things behind the counter she was in my personal space, her hands plastered to the sides of my face, forcing me to look at her. “No. Something is troubling you. I can see it. Your aura is withered.”

  I barely contained an irritated eye roll. Gladys thought she was some kind of sage. Wise and all knowing. Most of her advice amounted to drinking more tea or reading into your astrological sign. “There’s nothing the stars can’t tell you,” she’d say.

  “Really, I’m fine,” I said, my words distorted from the force of her hands pressing into my cheeks.

  “Hmm…” She searched my features, trying to suss out my problem.

  “Really,” I reiterated.

  She let me go. “I have just the thing,” Gladys said, prancing to the back room.

  While Gladys was occupied, I took the opportunity to settle in. A few boxes were waiting by the jewelry counter and I knew I’d be pricing and placing today. I’d worked here for three years and was the only person Gladys trusted to set up displays.

  To her, presentation was essential. Some things could never face south. Some gold jewelry could be displayed next to the silver, but others couldn’t. The rhyme and reason always some weird, nonsensical feeling she had, but since I’d been with her so long, I knew the key to her madness.

  As I was setting up, she brought out a mug of hot tea saying it would bring me luck and ease my mind. I took a polite sip with her watching. She smiled brightly, thinking she’d done me a huge favor and walked to the middle of the shop to perform her daily yoga.

  I chuckled and focused on the job at hand, not stopping until after lunch.

  There was still no word from Paul.

  Gladys noticed my frustration and frolicked over to me. She grabbed my hands, turning them over. “Oh, darling,” she said. “Oh, my sweet darling. You are not ready.”

  I sighed. “Ready for what, Gladys?”

  She gave me a tightlipped smile and grasped my hands with hers. “Go home early, dear. You need a day to recoup and recharge. I will be here tomorrow. All day. Enjoy yourself. Relax. Take a long bath. Don’t worry yourself with school or the shop. I’ll see you Wednesday.”

  I only had another hour left on my shift anyway, and why would I turn down a day off?

  “Okay,” I said and grabbed my things.

  Fiona’s car was gone when I pulled into my apartment and I let out a breath of relief. Part of me wanted to see her, to talk to her like we used to, but the other part couldn’t stomach it.

  I heard the TV blaring as I opened my door and shut it off. The table had been cleaned, and I reminded myself to give her some credit. She’d at least done that.

  I was standing in front of the mirror on our living room wall, trying to fix my hair, when someone walked out of the bathroom. He was wearing only a towel. His spiky black hair and tattooed torso glistened with water.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked Fontenot. “And put some clothes on.”

  “Why?” He winked. “Afraid you might get too tempted?”

  His dimpled grin reflected in the mirror and I didn’t hide my disgusted eye roll. “You wish,” I said.

  “I do,” he chuckled and disappeared into Fiona’s room. When he didn’t venture out again, I propped my feet up on our coffee table and fired up the television.

  Paul promised, I told myself as I barely watched the screen. He’ll call. He promised he would.

  Since I was off tomorrow, I made a mental note to gather my paintings and bring them to Atlantis. Remembering our perfect day yesterday brought a breath of relief. I was being overly sensitive, too excited and eager. I needed to step back, to remember that whatever was happening with Paul and me was very new.

  Fontenot came out of Fiona’s room and I squirmed on the couch, trying to decide if I needed to escape. Sure enough, he walked over and joined me.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked. “Why aren’t you out with Fiona?”

  “Because. I don’t want to be.”

  We were silent, watching a late afternoon judge show. He kept chuckling at the bizarre cases, but I couldn’t take it anymore and said, “Did you have fun with Nicole last night?”

  His eyebrows shot up. “You know Nicole?”

  I pulled a face. “You know she’s friends with Marlowe? Marlowe lives with my brother. Of course I know Nicole.”

  “Oh,” he said. “Right.” Fontenot took a hand and rubbed it along his jaw thinking about how to respond. “It was fun,” he admitted with a cheeky grin. “T
hat girl’s a straight up tease though.”

  “Hmm.” I said, not really caring.

  He whistled. “Good God, she can get me wound up.”

  I gave an annoyed sigh. “So you go out with Nicole and get all ‘wound up’ and then come home to Fiona. You sure haven’t changed.”

  Fontenot scowled at me. “You don’t know shit about me, little Mia. Not a goddamn thing.”

  I knew plenty and threw him a weighted look.

  “Fine,” he said. “You don’t know a thing about me now. Fiona knows what she’s doing. I’m not promising her shit. Besides, I’m leaving for a job soon and won’t be back for a while. It ain’t like we’re getting married.”

  “Have you told her that?”

  “Why would I?” His shoulders pulled up in an aggravated shrug. “She’s not my girlfriend. I can do whatever the fuck I want. And I can fuck whoever I want. So lay off with all this crap about Nicole. She’s not putting out anyway.”

  Fiona saw things so differently. What would happen when she realized how heartless Fontenot was?

  “You should be honest with her,” I said. “Just tell her you’re leaving. She at least deserves that. I swear to God if you just disappear on her…”

  He chuckled. “What are you gonna do about it? Sic your brother on me again?”

  Maybe I should. Lucas wouldn’t mind roughing him up, but I pushed that fantasy aside. Instead of throwing attitude, I tried to reach him with sincerity. “I know how it feels,” I said. “And I don’t want my friend to deal with that.”

  Fontenot closed his eyes, thinking my statement over. “I…” he began, but turned away from me. “You–you know I’m sorry. For what I did.”

  “So don’t do it to someone else,” I said and stood. I grabbed my phone and went to my bedroom, needing to be away from him and the painful memories it caused. I might not have feelings for him any longer, but it was hard not to hurt for the insecure, younger me.

  After I pulled my paintings out and rested them neatly beside my dresser, I lay on my bed and stared at the ceiling. A crack ran from the center all the way to the wall. It meandered and moved so randomly. Over the years, I’d memorized every curve, every small nuisance. I could recreate it with my eyes closed.

  Every so often it would grow a smidgen larger and sometimes I’d lay in bed wondering if one night the ceiling would cave in on me.

  It would never do that. We were friends now, kindred spirits. I understood it. All of its random movements had a purpose. They were deliberate.

  With a frustrated sigh I closed my eyes. I sounded like Gladys.

  I opened them and looked at my hands, trying to see what Gladys did. What wasn’t I ready for?

  The buzzing of my phone made me jump and I hastily reached for it.

  Paul calling…

  I held the phone to my chest, smiling brightly, and then answered, unable to hide my elation. “Hey,” I said.

  “Hey,” he said. “Sorry I didn’t call sooner. Work has been crazy.”

  “It’s okay. Are you off now?”

  “Yeah, just pulling out of the office. Can I see you?”

  “Now?”

  He chuckled. “If that’s okay.”

  “Yeah,” I said. “Yeah. That’s wonderful. Perfect.”

  “Okay. Be there in a few.”

  Immediately, I jumped from the bed and began getting ready.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  WHEN I HEARD THE knock on my front door, I bolted out of my room, smiling and racing to meet him. But Fontenot made it first. He held the door open, taking up the entire space and not letting Paul through.

  “Uh, is Mia here?” I heard Paul ask.

  “Who wants to know?”

  “Oh, lay off,” I told Fontenot, pushing him out of the way. My scowl instantly melted when I looked at Paul. “Come in,” I said, grabbing his hand.

  He came, but eyed Fontenot warily. Fontenot wasn’t helping either, giving him a good go to hell look. “Sorry about him,” I told Paul, not caring that Fontenot heard me. “I don’t know why he’s here anyway.”

  It occurred to me then that this might look bad—a strange tattooed man and me all alone in my small apartment. “He’s dating Fiona,” I clarified.

  Fontenot laughed. “I ain’t dating shit.”

  “Well you’re…you’re…”

  “What?” He smiled. “Fuck buddies? Say it, Sweet Mia. Or is that pretty little mouth still too pure.”

  Wanting to grab my things and leave, I refused to respond and pulled Paul towards my room, but Paul hesitated.

  “Have we met?” he asked Fontenot.

  “Don’t think so,” Fontenot replied. “Wait…Yeah. I think we have. Sort of. You came up to the shop one day when I was visiting Mia.”

  Oh my God. He wasn’t visiting me! “An uninvited visitation,” I said. “Now come on, Paul. Let’s go.”

  He walked with me to my room, but kept looking over his shoulder, watching Fontenot. I’d have to explain him to Paul. Fontenot couldn’t help it, chaos and pain followed him everywhere he went.

  Once my bag was in hand, I led him back through the apartment and didn’t bother saying goodbye as we walked out the door.

  “It was nice meeting you!” Fontenot yelled down from the landing.

  “You, too,” Paul said.

  In his car, Paul looked over at me, a question hanging on his lips, but he wasn’t sure how to ask it, or if he even should. So he didn’t think I was hiding anything from him, I went for the truth. Unfiltered.

  “Fontenot and I dated when I was eighteen. It lasted for a year, but he took my virginity and then left. Just like that.” I snapped my fingers. “One night I slept with him and then he disappeared. No reason. No excuse. He was just gone. A few months later he came back and tried to get me to date him again, but Lucas wouldn’t let him anywhere near me. I’m grateful for that. It was a long time ago, and I’m over it. I don’t look at him that way. I don’t want him. But I see him occasionally and now he’s dating Fiona.”

  Paul was still, his hand frozen on the ignition, the key not even turned. “Why are you telling me all this?” he asked.

  I shrugged. “People like to talk. I thought it might be better hearing it from me.”

  He nodded thoughtfully, and started the car. As he pulled out of the complex, he took a deep breath. “My ex-girlfriend, Marjorie, left me for my brother right after Valentine’s Day last year. Now they’re getting married. I was in love with her. I’d even bought her a ring, but hadn’t told anyone. I tried to pretend it didn’t bother me, but, in truth, it killed me.”

  So that was why he had her picture hidden away. Even though the mystery was solved, my heart still gave a jealous pump.

  “Are you still in love with her?” I asked.

  His smile was small, but amused. “No,” he said. “I’m not. Not for a long time.”

  “That’s good,” I said. “Really good.” My delight was obvious, and Paul chuckled as he took my hand.

  “Work was awful,” he said. “It’s so good to be off.”

  “Is there anything you wanna do? I’m okay with whatever you want.” I didn’t care where we went, I only wanted to be around him.

  Paul contemplated it, eyeing the clock. “Are you hungry?”

  “Sure.”

  He took me to an upscale restaurant and I immediately felt uncomfortable. My attire was all wrong. Shorts and sandals. Next to him I looked like a kid. His dress shirt was perfectly pressed despite having worn it all day. His movements and words exuded confidence. He spoke with the waiter about fancy wines and obscure menu items I couldn’t even pronounce.

  My hands remained folded in my lap. Everything looked elegant and expensive and I was afraid I’d somehow break whatever I touched.

  Paul sensed my apprehension and ordered for me. After the waiter left he leaned across the table. “Is this okay? We can leave if you want.”

  “Its fine,” I smiled. “I’m just not used to places like thi
s and certainly not dressed for it.”

  He disagreed with an amused shake of his head. “You’re beautiful,” he said and the honesty in his eyes made my heart flutter.

  “You’re handsome,” I countered.

  He chuckled. “Doesn’t count if I say it first, remember?” I did remember. Our first meeting. A couch. A movie. Shy smiles and awkward touches.

  His hand reached out for mine. I placed it in his and let his gentle caresses warm me. The look in his eyes was intoxicating. I’d seen it before, every time we’d met. Only this time, he wasn’t shying away. He wasn’t trying to hide it.

  “Why didn’t you ask for my number the night we met?” I asked. “I thought you wanted to. You did, didn’t you?” I hadn’t been reading him wrong. I knew I hadn’t.

  His lip pulled up and he gave my hand a squeeze. “I did, but I thought you were too young,” he said. “And my ex, Marjorie, had just ended things. It didn’t feel right.”

  Did he still think I was too young?

  “You know…” I smiled. “I’m still eight years younger than you. That hasn’t changed since then.”

  “Trust me, I know,” he said and pulled his hand from mine. My fingers stretched for him in an impulsive desperation. Once I realized, I pulled them back, curling them into my lap. Paul was studying the edge of his napkin and I took a breath. I’d known my age might still be a problem for him, but it was something I couldn’t help.

  Paul was deep in thought and bit his lower lip. Unspoken thoughts and words tried to push out of his mouth, but he caught them. Needing him to explain this without my prodding, I remained silent.

  Finally he took a deep breath, ready to open up. “There…there’s just something about you Mia. You look at me like…” He trailed off, deciding not to continue that thought. “I mean, before a few days ago, how many times had we even held a conversation lasting more than a few minutes?”

  I shook my head, not knowing.

  “Exactly,” he continued. “I barely knew you, but couldn’t stop thinking of you. And then you were here or there, always stepping back into my life. I figure it’s time for me to stop worrying about other people. I need to follow what my heart wants.” He shrugged his shoulder, a soft, self-conscious movement, and reached for me again. Willingly, I put my hand in his. His eyes focused on our joined hands and he watched as his thumb rubbed circles along mine. “And my heart wants you.”