Still Into You (19 page)

Probably.

Or maybe it had been the right decision. God, she didn’t know. It confused her. She needed to work out her shit quickly so she could get Ethan back. Because without him, she felt her entire world slipping away from her.

Tom didn’t visit that weekend, though he did text. He stayed to support Lizzie. Mia was fine with that. She needed to think, figure out what to do. Had she ruined the friendship she had with Tom forever because she’d been selfish and had chosen sex with him? She didn’t want to hurt him, but it seemed inevitable that she would.

On Monday, Tom showed up on her doorstep with a tired smile on his face and a bouquet of gerbera daisies in his hand. It had been almost a week since they’d last seen each other. In that moment, she realized she had missed him. Mia smiled and opened her arms for him. With a thankful sigh, he wrapped her in his embrace.

He kicked the door shut and started backing her towards the stairs. Sliding his hands down to her waist, Tom lifted her up onto the step, her face now even with his. The hunger in his eyes was hard to miss. Leaning in, he kissed her and she kissed him back. Mia shut herself down, otherwise she’d be sobbing in his arms.

She didn’t remember how her clothes got off or how they got to the bed. Then he was inside of her. And when she looked up, she didn’t see Tom, she saw Ethan. It was Ethan looking down at her with love in his eyes as he made love to her. It was Ethan leaning down to capture her lips. But it wasn’t his voice calling out her name in ecstasy.

Mia broke the kiss, letting her head fall to the side, away from Tom’s gaze as tears spilled from her eyes. She knew then she was being unfair to him, using him to forget. She did care for Tom—a lot. But she couldn’t give him her heart. Ethan would always have that.

“Oh God!” she cried as she pushed him away. “I can’t. Not anymore.”

Tom fell back, shock all over his face. She scrambled away from him, yanking the throw blanket from her chair and wrapping herself in it, not able to be naked in front of him for one more second.

He got up and stood on the other side of the bed, clearly knowing something was up. “What’s wrong, Mia?”

“I can’t do this anymore.”

“Do what, baby girl?” he asked, taking a few small steps towards her. She saw his concern in the lines of his handsome face. He was such a good guy and totally deserved better than her—the fuck-up supreme.

“You’re not Ethan,” she stated, needing to tell him the truth.

“I know,” he answered, his mouth curving with tenderness.

“I tried so hard to forget him, but I can’t. He’s always here,” she admitted, tapping her chest.

The tender smile slipped away, his lips flattening into a cold, angry expression. “You told me you loved me,” he accused.

“I do, Tom,” she exclaimed, clutching his hand. “I do, but not in the way I love Ethan.”

He yanked his hand away and pulled away from her. He searched for his clothes, his body tense, rigid.

“Not enough,” he stated coldly, his hands clenching the shirt he just picked up, his knuckles white.

Mia gulped hard, hot tears trickling down her cheeks because he was right. She couldn’t stand that she was hurting him. This was the last thing she wanted. “I’m so sorry, Tom. I hoped he would go away, that I could forget him, but I can’t and that isn’t fair to you. I can’t give you what you deserve.”

“Mia, that isn’t something you get to decide,” Tom said, moving in on her. Dropping his shirt, he grabbed her arms, almost lifting her from the ground. He got in her face. She moved her head so she couldn’t look at him, couldn’t see the pain and anger she’d caused. He growled a curse and slid his hands up to her biceps, wrapping his large hands around them, before lifting her up and walking them back to the bed. Placing her on the bed, he quickly followed, his weight holding her in place, his hand gripping her face, holding it, forcing her to see him, see the determination. “You don’t get to decide that.”

Damn it! He was going to try to change her mind. Mia couldn’t handle that. She needed to take the next step. She didn’t want to, because she knew it would hurt him, but he left her no choice.

She jutted out her chin against his hard grip, her eyes locked on him. “You know the times you haven’t been here, I’ve been either high or drunk. You deserve more than my baggage, Tom. There’s a lot of baggage.”

His features softened and he pressed his lips to her forehead. “Mia, I know,” he said, his lips tracking down the side of her face as he repeated his words. “I know. Let me help you. That’s all you have to do.”

She closed her eyes and shook her head. It was not that simple. It had never been that simple.

“This entire time I’ve used you to forget Ethan. I drowned him out by fucking you.” His movements stilled, but he pressed his lips to her skin and then she went with the one thing that she knew would drive the blade all the way in. “Final nail in the coffin. I know where Marc is,” she spoke quickly, waiting for the backlash. His mouth froze near hers and then he pulled back, and she inhaled sharply at the hard eyes staring down at her in disbelief.

“
What?
” Tom roared, vaulting off of her. He paced back and forth in front of the bed. “You
knew
I was looking for him. You knew the pain Lizzie was going through.”

“He’s safe. He’s in rehab and doesn’t want to be found.”

“Does his brother know?”

Mia pushed herself up, leaning back on her elbows, before shaking her head.

“Why you? Why wouldn’t he tell Lizzie? Or Clark?”

She didn’t know the answer to that question. “This is bigger than Lizzie.”

“Goddamn it, Mia. She’s a fucking mess. She doesn’t know a thing, doesn’t understand why he left like this.”

“Tell her what I’ve said, that he loves her. But for now that’s all I can say until Marc says otherwise. I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

Tom picked his shirt off the floor and pulled it down over his head, punching his arms through the holes. Then he leveled her with a look she would not forget for a long time. “I can’t fucking believe this. This night was supposed to end so differently.”

She got off the bed, tentatively making her way to him. “I’m sorry, Tom.”

“Stop!” he screamed. “Stop fucking saying that!” He dragged his hand over his head and took a deep breath. “Don’t be sorry. Make this fucking worth it, Mia. I want you happy. I always have. So get him back.”

Mia

In the studio later that week, Mia slouched in her chair, her guitar flat on her lap, and her headphones on top of her head. The band was in the final stretches of finishing up their third album. But at the moment, Clark was tending to his bass, and Mia was left to her thoughts. She stared down, focusing on the randomness of the wood planks that made up the floor. Her straightened hair fell in front of her face as her thoughts drifted to her writing.

Since her breakup with Ethan, Mia had thrown herself into writing. She often sat down in her sunroom, letting the warm light beat down on her while she wrote. Some of her words turned into songs, but for the most part, they stayed in her journal.

She had hoped that when she wrote it down, it’d be purged from her mind. That was definitely not the case. She was more and more on edge, especially since breaking things off with Tom. She hated that feeling of impending doom. All she wanted to do was go back to the happy times with Ethan. But that wouldn’t be happening . . . not until she could deal with her tormented past. Why was it so hard? Why was it so much easier to just push it under the bed and forget it than to actually face it?

Mia ripped the hair tie from her wrist and with a few swift movements pulled her hair back into a ponytail. She knew the showdown was coming. Maybe that’s why she was feeling so tense lately.

Things had been going well with the recording of the album and then they weren’t, at least for her. The songs being recorded were just too personal. This past week had been too much for her. First the wedding dress, then the nasty breakup with Tom. And now this weekend loomed in front of her—the weekend she was supposed to marry Ethan. Yeah, that wasn’t happening. She missed him so much and it killed her that there would be no wedding.

Fuck. What the hell had she done? She’d been making bad choices left and right lately. Problem was she didn’t know how to break the cycle.

“Goddamn it!” she exclaimed louder than she thought.

“What is it, brat?” Marty asked from across the room, guitar in his lap. Mia yanked off the headphones and let them fall to the floor. She needed out of the studio—now!

“I’m done for the day,” she said, adding her guitar to her mess on the ground.

He looked at her strangely. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

She laughed. She was far from okay, but looked at Marty and said, “I’m fine. I need to eat. Anyone want to go with me?”

“I’m starving! I’ll come,” Todd piped up. She smiled at him, so thankful that she wouldn’t have to be alone.

“Anyone else?” she asked, grabbing her purse.

Clark and Marty shook their heads. “No, I’m good. I want to work on the arrangement for ‘Back in My Life,’” Marty replied, strumming his guitar. “I have some ideas.”

She smiled at him. “I love your ideas! Okay. We’ll be back later,” she said, walking towards Todd who held the door open.

“This is your neighborhood. What’s good?” she asked him, putting on her sunglasses.

“What are you in the mood for?” he turned to her as they strolled out of the building onto the sidewalk, his hand on her back guiding her. The wind caused her white, flared tube top to flutter deliciously against her stomach. The warm, summer-like temperatures made the blue, pink, and white plaid button-up she wore over the tube top a little too much, even with the sleeves rolled up to her elbows.

“I want to sit down, eat some great food, and potentially have a few drinks. Got anything around here that can give me that?”

“I do,” he said with a smile. “It’s just a small neighborhood pub, but man, can they cook some great food. The cook likes to experiment. Very interesting combinations. Oh, and they have the best sweet potato fries I’ve ever tasted!”

She pointed forward. “Take me! Now!”

He laughed heartily. It was easy to be silly with Todd. They often knew what the other needed. Like now. She needed to get her mind off of Ethan, off of Tom, and on enjoying herself.

They walked the few blocks to the little corner pub. It seriously was a hole in the wall. A door. No sign besides the street numbers. She was surprised.

“Is this it?” she said, unsure of what was in front of her.

“Yep. You’ll be surprised when you go in! Trust me.”

She stepped inside and immediately took off her sunglasses because she couldn’t see a thing. It didn’t get much brighter with the glasses off, but as Mia looked around the room, this was the atmosphere she needed. It was a dark place, with each table highlighted by a hanging light casting a warm glow to the area.

Todd led her to a table near the back, away from the bar and most of the people. She placed her purse on the extra chair beside her and sat across from him. The waitress hurried over and took their orders.

And over the course of the rest of the afternoon, Todd made her laugh—a lot. She drank, she ate, she drank, she laughed, and then she drank some more. Mia accomplished what she wanted—to get drunk, laugh, and forget.

But now the time had come to either go home or go back to the studio. Neither option appealed to her. In the studio, they were working on songs that she wrote about Ethan, singing songs that made her want to cry. At home, it was big and empty and she didn’t want to be alone. A dilemma.

“Ugh, I don’t want to go back to the studio right now,” she moaned into her drink.

“Do you have to?”

“I should,” she answered, swirling the contents in her glass.

“We can go to my place if you want or we can stay here.”

“I haven’t been to your loft in ages. Does it still have creepy mice skittering about?”

“No!” he exclaimed, looking affronted. “God, I think the last time you were there was when I first got it like five years ago!”

Five years? She could have sworn she’d been there for parties or something.