Drake answers with a grim voice. “Look, dude, I’m sorry I hooked up with your sister, but—”
“Never mind that. I know we’re pissed at each other, but I need a huge a favor.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
MIA
Current Day
I’m so screwed. The endless chatter of restaurant patrons and the clanking dishes from the busboy clearing tables do nothing to drown the noise in my own head. I glance at the table beside me. A couple in their late forties pick away at their chicken primavera. The baritone voice expresses concern about a fellow colleague. It isn’t his words that grab my attention. No, it’s his pitch, his deep, rich tone, that serves as a reminder of what I tossed away.
The woman’s left arm reaches across the table and pats his hand. The sweet sentiment is painful to watch. An iridescent glimmer dances off the large diamond, and I wonder how long they’ve been married. Ten years. Twenty?
Laughter draws my attention to another couple three tables away. They’re much younger. Maybe in a new relationship or newlyweds from the way she stares. I swear, her dreamy expression mimics the heart-eyes emoji as she blinks admirably at her partner. I sink lower in my chair, mentally drained.
“Here’s to smashing sales for our first charity calendar.”
The noise continues. Tonight’s Christmas Eve. Why are there so many people here? Shouldn’t they be home preparing for their family? I force myself to look away, but the next two tables are more of the same—couples everywhere. Why did we pick this restaurant? It’s obviously for lovebirds. Damn birds.
“Successful campaign… Hello?”
I snap my head back to Nala. She sits across the table with her arm raised, mimosa in hand. A toast. We must be toasting something, but the questionable look on her face isn’t giving me much to go by. I pick my glass up.
“Here’s to…”
Her eyes narrow. “The successful campaign.”
“Yes, to our success.” My stomach growls as we clink our glasses. I take the customary swig, but not even the refreshing citrus cocktail can smooth the caustic taste in my throat. I hate feeling this way. The emptiness. Most of all, I hate that even though I know better, AJ still makes me care for him.
I take another sip, and the champagne works through my empty stomach and shoots straight to my head. Two drinks and I’m already woozy? Pathetic.
“Are you going to tell me what has you so distracted?” Nala’s voice comes across in a weird irritable-slash-empathic mixture. She isn’t stupid. I’m sure she has figured out where my mind keeps going.
“I’d rather not talk about it.” What is there to say? Unlike her, I am stupid. Stupid enough to fall for the same guy who’s more unattainable now than when he stood me up.
“Okay, but you’re not getting anywhere stewing about it.”
Nala’s disapproving head shake makes me feel bad, but before I can respond, the waitress carries the food tray to our table—a much-welcomed interruption. I toss her a grateful smile and blow out a relieved sigh when Nala digs into the chicken cobb salad. Our meal buys time, but knowing Nala, my reprieve will be short.
I stare at the grilled corn and lettuce. Despite not eating earlier today, nothing appears appetizing. Two weeks have passed since AJ walked out of my apartment, and I haven’t had a decent meal since. Nothing seems appetizing, including this meal. I pick at the chicken bites when a sharp gasp cuts through the air. Nala and I both turn to the younger couple I secretly mocked earlier. The guy’s down on one knee, and the sight of him holding a black jewelry box squeezes my chest. What’s wrong with me? I should be happy for them not...bitter. Or sad. I’m not sure what I feel. Except hot. A light sheen of sweat breaks across my skin, but I don’t move. Watching the couple is equivalent to watching a train wreck. I can’t turn away.
The guy flips the box open, the sparkle mesmerizing. My fork drops to the plate, but the clanging sounds far away. I can’t focus. The room tilts as AJ’s stricken expression flashes through my mind. But I had no choice but to refuse him. We’d never work.
I think someone calls my name, but the bubble lodged in my throat makes it impossible to respond. I can barely breathe as the air thickens.
The heart-eyed-emoji-faced girl bursts into tears, her head nodding the answer. Black dots appear and begin to fade the horrific scene away. The vise in my chest tightens as the struggle for air becomes real. Why can’t I breathe?
“Mia!” The sharp tone pulls my attention to a wide-eyed best friend. “Drop your head between your legs.”
I comply, and a sudden coolness on my neck is a welcomed treat.
“Is everything okay?” another voice asks.
“She almost passed out.” The concern in Nala’s voice springs forward my guilt.
“Do you need an ambulance?”
“No,” I say, finding enough strength. “I just...need food.”
“We have a staff lounge if she needs to lay down.”
“Really, I’m okay.” I bat Nala’s hand away and rise back into an upright position. The room spins, but I adjust and clear my throat to muster enough reassurance in my voice. “I’ll be okay.”
Nala relaxes and moves back to her chair, her gaze never straying from me.
“Get some food in you. Then you’re going to tell me what’s going on. Whether you want to or not.”
With half of my salad eaten, Nala apparently has enough of my silence. She sits back in her seat and eyes me. “So, what’s going on?”
I may take a few extra minutes to chew the cubed chicken before sighing. “I ended things with AJ.”
“Because of the trade?”
“Yeah.” And among other things.
“Was this a mutual agreeance?”
My mind rethinks his words, “Thanks for the goodbye fuck,” and I reluctantly shake my head. “No, not really. He wanted to continue even though he’s leaving.”
“So why don’t you?”
My gaze flicks to hers. “And have a long-distance relationship? You know how hard that is? We haven’t been together long. Hell, we haven’t even been dating long enough to have that conversation.”
“It’s doable. And it’s not like you just met him. You two have a past.”
“We barely dated, and he left me jilted. The odds aren’t in our favor.” One long night last week, I may have had too much wine. Trying to justify my actions, I Googled long-distance relationships. Two-thirds fail. It didn’t make me feel better.
“Then move out there with him. You’re not obligated to stay here. Your online business is picking up. All you’ll have to do is reestablish the event photography portion.”
“I’m not following him clear across the country.”
“It’s a perfect situation. Not only is your apartment lease up, but you miss L.A.”
The pang in my chest returns. She’s right about missing the West Coast. I loved the warmth of the sun, the beautiful beaches, and the mountains. “No, that’s a crazy idea. There’s no future with him.”
“You don’t know that, though. You said he didn’t want to end things.”
“At first, he did, but by the end of the night, he”— I take another drink, trying to erase AJ’s distant stare, his flat monotone voice, from my mind—“wanted to try.”
“Then why don’t you try? You guys were hot and heavy seeing each other every night. That’s why I haven’t been around much lately. I thought you were getting in as much time with him as you could. I thought you were happy. But you’re definitely not happy without him. You haven’t been eating for fuck’s sake.”
She doesn’t understand. “Even if I wanted to keep trying, he’s still wrong for me. He’s not who I want to settle down with permanently.”
“Why the hell not? You obviously care about him. I don’t see why you wouldn’t at least try.”
“I can’t do long distance.”
“Then take my suggestion and move with him.”
“He hasn’t asked.”
“I don’t mean move in together, but moving to L.A. may be a good thing for you.”
“And do what? Be by myself? He’s a baseball player. Look at how many nights he’ll be away.”
“I know it’s not ideal, but many other baseball wives or girlfriends deal with it. You certainly wouldn’t be the first—”
“You don’t understand.”
She sits back in her chair and folds her arms across her chest. “Okay, then explain.”
I drag my hands over my face and swallow. Talking about my dad has always been hard. So many years have passed, but the guilt never goes away—just dulls.
“You know my dad died when I was younger.”
“Yeah. Right after high school.”
“Yep. What you don’t know…” I inhale deeply and release a slow, steady stream of air. God, I hate this part. “Dad traveled for his work. A lot. I saw my mom attend way too many school functions by herself. She’d take us to practices, recitals, games. You name it, Mom did it. She was the dependable parent. The one we could count on.”
I blink back tears and take a drink of water. Nala remains quiet, allowing me this moment.
“All the empty promises Dad made took their toll. I hated him sometimes.” My eyes meet hers. “I never admitted that to anyone, but that’s how selfish I was.”
“I don’t think that’s being selfish, Mia. I think that’s a normal reaction when you’re young.”
“Maybe, but the night he died, I had the lead in our ballet recital. He missed so many others, I didn’t want him to miss this one. I told him he had to be there. He promised he’d do whatever it took to be there. And I believed him. Right up to the time when I had to go on stage. I saw my mom sitting in the front row alone. Something inside me snapped, and I hated him. I swore I’d never talk to him again. And I-I didn’t.” My voice cracks as I swallow back the years of regret. Big traitor tears escape and run down the side of my face.
“Oh, Mia. That wasn’t your fault.”
“No? Not directly, but…” I can’t bring myself to say it. Had I not been such a whiny brat, he’d still be here. Then maybe he would’ve noticed the faulty wiring in the house, and both parents would be alive. “Anyway, I swore off any man that didn’t have the normal nine-to-five job. Or one that traveled. I don’t want to ever feel that hatred toward someone again.”
“We don’t always get to choose who we fall for. Believe me.” Her gaze drops to the table, her head giving a slight shake. I want to ask what that’s about, but now isn’t the time. Besides, I just don’t have it in me.
“It doesn’t matter,” I say, the words feeling like a dagger to my heart. How can this hurt so badly? We were supposed to stay casual.
“How many guys have you been serious with since he stood you up?”
“What?” Her question throws me off. She knows I hardly date.
“How many since college?”
“Uh…” None. My brain scrambles, trying to think of someone. Anyone. Other than the one-night stands, I’ve got nothing. Wait, there were the two guys I had second dates with. They ended up being cringe-worthy but close enough. “Two!”
“Nooooo, dipshit one and two don’t count.”
“I’m counting them.” I motion for the waitress. My gesture signaling an end to this conversation.
“This is the happiest I’ve ever seen you. Call him.”
Her eyes lock with mine. I know she won’t stop hounding me until I cave. We’re too much alike, matching each other’s stubbornness. Damn it.
“I’ll think about it.”
“Think about this. What if you end up alone anyway?”
My phone rings, and I mumble a thankful prayer for another well-timed interruption. “I wonder what Drake wants?”
“Sis, where are you?”
The urgency in Drake’s tone catches me off guard. “Meeting Nala for lunch. What’s up?”
“Which restaurant?”
“Celia’s, but we’re—”
“Stay put. I’ll be right there.”
“Okay, but we were just—” My head jerks back from his abrupt dismissal. “That’s bizarre.”
“What?”
“Drake practically hung up on me. But we can’t leave because he’s on his way.”
Her eyebrows dip inside her hairline. “What? He’s coming here?”
“Yeah.”
“Why?” She runs her hands along her auburn hair, smoothing any flyaway strands.
“I have no idea, but it looks like I’m not going anywhere for a while.” I don’t question the squeakiness in her voice or her panic-stricken expression. I’ll let it ride for now. I’m more concerned with what he wants.
Chapter Thirty
AJ
Current Day
The slight hum of the refrigerator greets me as I enter my apartment. The place is too quiet. I set the packages down and glance around the room. There’s a more depressing vibe in the air. With Jax spending more time with Jocelyn, I’ve gotten used to living alone, and it never bothered me—until now.
Now, I want the space filled with Mia’s laughter. Her accusatory tone. Or, best yet, her pants and sweet moans when I’m driving into her. I’m not sure how I thought I could live without her. Mom’s right. I’m not my dad. I know how to treat a woman.
I waste no time and pad across the hardwood floor to the kitchen, Mia’s apartment key tucked securely in my jean’s pocket. Drake met up with me before going to the restaurant to delay Mia. He’s supposed to text when they leave, which means I need to work fast. I have a few items to pick up and need to wrap Mia’s present. It would’ve been more convenient—not to mention prettier—for the store to gift wrap it, but Mom would have my hide. She preaches the gift means more to the recipient if the person takes the time to wrap it themselves. Something about time and effort or some bullshit.
I rifle through the junk drawer in search for scotch tape. Pens, screwdriver, and matches are scattered everywhere. I shove the playing cards to the side, shuffle some papers—we really need to clean this mess up—when the front door bursts open and then slams shut.
What the hell?
Scooting away from the counter, I peek my head around the corner. My stomach drops when I take in Jax’s scowl.
“What’s the matter, bro?”
He growls as he paces a few times and then plops on the couch, dragging his hands through his hair. Only one thing could make him this upset—an argument with Jocelyn.
“Don’t tell me she said no.”
“I haven’t asked yet.”
“Then why are you here and not there?”
“She’s with Carl.”
“Come again.” Jocelyn’s ex-husband is the biggest jerk this side of the country. And that says a lot; we house a lot of politicians. Before the all-star break, Carl almost caused them to permanently split. His scheming plans failed, and other than the court-ordered child custodian responsibilities, Jocelyn was done with him.
“He spent the last two Christmas Eves at her house to be with the kids. The asshole wants to do it again.”
“That’s fu—messed up.”
“Right? After everything he put her through, how could she even consider it?”
“I don’t know because she hates him.” Something isn’t adding up. Jocelyn wouldn’t choose Carl over Jax. No way. “So, you’re, what, kicked out?”
“Pretty much.” He lets out a huff. “At least that’s what it seemed like.”
“Wait. Did she tell you to leave?”
He shifts in his seat and grunts. “No.”
“No?” I glance at the time and cringe. Drake’s text could come soon. I don’t want to let my friend down, but I need to hurry. “Wait. I have to get this wrapped.”
“So, he wants to spend the night, and she agreed?” I ask as I lay the wrapping supplies on the floor. After spreading out the red foil paper, I place her gift in the middle and begin.
“He’s playing her. It’s his holiday to have the kids. He off
ered to keep the kids at her house if he stays the night.”
“And she’s falling for it?” I reword the question because he never really answered that she agreed to it.
“She didn’t deny it.”
“But she hasn’t agreed?” I fold the flap and tape across the corner and slap a green bow on top. Moving on to the next present, I work at lightning speed. I think these are my best-wrapped presents to date. The gift shop worker has nothing on me.
“Well, no. Not exactly.” He drags out his words and shifts in the seat. But—”
“Then why are you here?” I apply the last of the tape to the slightly crinkly seam and admire my work. Fucking perfect.
“I’m not staying at her house with Carl. And I very well can’t give her a ring with him staring at us.”
My eyes wander to my pathetic tree. A smile forms from the site of the only decoration hanging—a set of pink furry cuffs. My girl is worth fighting for, and so is Jocelyn. He knows this.
“Dude, get your ass back there before she notices you’re gone. Let Carl feel like the outsider.”
He grunts.
“Seriously. She may be taking her time because she needs to choose the correct wordage for her kids. The asshole probably already told them.”
His gaze snaps to mine. “You’re right. That’s what he did last year.”
“Then get your ass back there. Otherwise, she’ll be upset and vulnerable with some douchebag there to console her. Is that what you want?”
“Of course not.”
“Then what are you doing here? That woman loves you.”
“Fuck. You’re right. I’m just… God, I wanted this to be perfect.” He shakes his head and glances at my pile of gifts. “Those look like shit. Jocelyn’s kids could do better.”
Okay, maybe not so perfect.
“It’s the thought and effort behind it,” I grumble.
“You better stick to baseball, dude.” He laughs and rises abruptly. “I got to go before she realizes I left the city.”
“She doesn’t know you left?”
“No, she thinks I’m with Nana.”
Bottom Of The Ninth: Bad Boys Redemption: Book Three Page 18
