Man of My Dreams (33 page)

“Going so well my ass. You’re happy with Noah, but that’s only because of the way things have been with Declan. If he wasn’t in the picture…”

“No, Grace, you’re wrong. If Declan hadn’t done what he did…”

“How long are you going to let this go on? You’re going to divorce him, get remarried to Noah, sail off into the sunset all because he kissed some floozy he met in a bar?”

I can’t believe she’s making it like what Declan did is okay. What he did was so much worse than infidelity. He gave up on us, lost hope, trust and faith in me and everything we stand for. How do I know he won’t do it again? And all the while I’ve been wondering this, I’ve been conveniently falling in love with another man. But are my growing emotions for Noah strong enough to deaden everything I ever had with Declan? Can I actually choose one over the other? I got used to being separated from Declan, but part of me realizes that it’s also because I haven’t had to do it alone. The other part of me hates the idea of letting go of Noah and the beautiful relationship that’s blossoming.

This is all Grace’s fault! If she hadn’t informed Declan of our dating spot like some undercover mole—Operation: Bring Mia and Declan Back Together—I wouldn’t be facing these issues with two bleeding, angry men waiting for answers.

“You know what, Grace? Fuck off.” Yeah, it’s harsh. I don’t think I’ve ever spoken to my best friend like this in all the years I’ve known her, but now I’m angry and it’s hard to be friendly and refined in a situation like this. A situation that could have been avoided if she would have… “Mind your own damn business, Grace.”

Grace’s chin starts to tremble, her eyes become glassy.
Great, she’s gonna cry!
“I was only trying to help, Mia.”

“This isn’t helping. This is a catastrophe!” I can’t control it anymore—the tears, the anger, the confusion—talk about a clusterfuck. I can’t breathe—a giant ball of intensifying emotions blocks the air from traveling through my lungs. The tears break free like a geyser gone wild and I can’t even pinpoint the one real reason for crying. I feel betrayed by Grace, I’m sad that this could be goodbye to Noah and I’m dumbfounded by Declan and his actions tonight. I press my clammy hand against my forehead, in an attempt to collect my scattered thoughts.

Declan comes from behind, putting his arms around me. “Calm down, Mia. We’ll figure it out.”

I rotate to face him—I’d forgotten how protected I’ve always felt in his arms. This seems right, even though Noah is only inches away from us, observing. “There’s a lot to figure out, Dec. I don’t even know where to begin.” I feel so guilty for this intimate moment between the two of us. I hate that Noah has to witness it. I never meant to hurt him.

I try my best to block out Noah to test what’s going on in my head for Declan. My first experiment involves touch, touching his body, remembering the contours of his beautiful face—regardless of the broken nose. This is the first time I’ve touched him since being with another man. It’s different, having experienced desire fueled by someone else. Being with Noah has given me more confidence in myself, making me sure of what I want. When I’m with Noah I want him, but being in Declan’s arms…I want him too. I miss him.

My eyes travel back up from the floor, floating over the man I married. On their way back up to his face, they stop, stunned by something I’ve never seen before. In the heat of their brawl, Noah had managed to rip Declan’s shirt clean down the front. My hand plays with the unraveled material of his cotton shirt, moving it over a bit more to inspect my surprising discovery.

“When did you get this?” My fingers trace the artwork of vivid, black ink. I outline the shape of the intricate heart made up of tiny number ones in different variations of boldness before swirling my finger against the cursive lettering inside—
Mia—
right over Declan’s heart.

“Do you like it?”

“When did you…”

“That first week in Hong Kong.”

My eyes dart open wider. I’m so confused. “But…you were so…”

“So what, Mia? I was working crazy hours and the time difference caught up with me, but you have no idea how that phone call from you rocked me. I almost quit my fucking job and got on the next plane home, but something in me snapped.” He looks away, swallowing a hard gulp. Suddenly I remember what Grace had told me that morning after the reunion, after my first night with Noah, after the phone call to Declan.
If you love something let it go…
It takes a real man to be that understanding.

“But you sat back and just let this happen. You never said a word about it when you came back…you moved out and let me move on. I thought you were done so I…Noah…” Poor Noah. I look over my shoulder to gage his perception of all of this. At least Grace has the brains to try and keep him occupied by cursing about the way the manager handled things. When I turn my attention back to Declan, everything is becoming painfully clear. “How was I supposed to know you wanted me all this time?”

Declan cups my face in his blood-stained hands. “Mia, I’ve always wanted you. I’ve never stopped. And I know this is all my fault because I fucked up, but…I’ve only ever wanted you, babe. You’re my first, my last, my everything.”

“You’re quoting Barry White, Dec. Was that your plan? Wow me with this sick tattoo and serenade me with some ‘70s R&B?” I know it’s no time for a joke, but I can’t help it. We could use some laughter to break up all the tension.

“If it brings you back to me, I’ll sing anything, baby.” Declan chuckles behind a nervous grin.

If Noah weren’t part of the picture this would be a no-brainer. But it’s obviously not that simple. How can I break his heart? It comes down to a painful choice and either way someone is going to get hurt and a part of me will feel empty forever. I know what I have to do, I just can’t bring myself to do it.

If I pick Declan, Noah will be crushed. I’ll never really know what we could’ve had because I didn’t give it a shot. Noah is an amazing man, with so much to offer. He makes me feel alive again and he makes me wonder about why things happen the way they do. But as excruciating as it is to face the truth, the
truth
is that Noah and I never really had a chance because my heart belongs to someone else.

I look up at Declan, the one and only man of my dreams, and the answers to all of my questions are written across his face. He loves me, he needs me, and he wants me. We’ve been through the worst and he still sees me as
his
one and only…we’ll have the rest of our lives to make it work. But right now, I need a few more moments of time to devote to Noah. He deserves an explanation. “Dec, let Grace take a look at your nose. I have to talk to Noah.”

Declan gnaws on his puffy lip, contemplating. “You’ll come right back?”

“Yes, baby. I’m coming back.” I hope he understands the weight that phrase carries with it.

I turn my back on my husband, knowing this will be the last time I ever do that. Walking closer to Noah, my heart takes up a slow-motion sort of beat. My mouth becomes dry and my hands start to shake. This is so much harder than it seems. Yes, I love Declan, but there is nothing not to love about Noah too. He deserves someone who can give everything to him, and I’m not that someone.

“Hey,” he says, with a thickened voice, starting down at his feet.

“Hey,” I say, lifting his chin up with my index finger. “I’m sorry, Noah. I never wanted to…”

He lifts a brawny hand up to my lips, “Shh. You don’t have to explain. I understand. But I just want to know one thing.”

I nod, agreeing to answer his unspoken question.

“Were you happy? Was it real or was it all a distraction from what was really going on inside your head?”

His question hurts. I hate for him to think of it that way because when I was with him it
was
real, genuine. My heart was tethered to another man, but it was starting to sway a different way with every new day with Noah. The problem, though—I realized tonight that it would never have been totally free to belong to someone else.

Removing Noah’s hands from my face, I step back, realizing this will be the last time we’ll ever touch. There’s a pang of disappointment, but also a wave of relief that comes along with it. “You made me very happy, Noah. I’ll have nothing but wonderful memories of our time together, past and present. But…” But what? I can’t even form the words. It’s just too harsh. He deserves better.

“I know, Mia. This is goodbye. It’s okay, don’t beat yourself up about it. I wish things could’ve been different…I should have snatched you up in high school, made you my girl then. I would have never let go.” He licks his lips and breathes in a slow, measured breath through his nose. “But if he makes the mistake of letting you go again, you better come find me.”

I can’t make that promise to him. It would be like giving false hope or, worse, admitting that my marriage might not work after all. Instead, I just smile, leaning in to kiss Noah on his bruised cheek. “Goodbye, Noah.” I hate that I have to say goodbye because what I’ll miss most about him is our friendship.

“Goodbye, beautiful.” He shares a quick glance with Declan before walking away. It’s a look of warning, congratulations, and regret all rolled into one.

Declan lets it slide, walking back to me.

“I’ll go get the car,” Grace says, heading for the parking lot.

When we’re alone again, encased by the muted glow of the street lamps and the muffled thumping of the music from inside the bar, I’m reminded of that night. The first night at the Alibi. Our first date, our first kiss. The beginning of this beautiful story.

“Can we go home now? Start the rest of our forever?” His words are so simple but so beautiful. Makes me wish he would write them down, put them to music, and do what he knows how to do best.

“Forever can start after the hospital.” I wiggle out of his shielding embrace to inspect his face. The remaining blood has dried and darkened. His nose, once straight and perfect, now swollen and discolored. He’s still goddamn breathtaking though, just with a little character now.

“I’m fine, Mia. We don’t need to go…”

“Oh, just shut up. When are you going to learn to trust that I know best?”

“If I trusted you to make all the decisions, you might be getting in that pick-up truck with your boyfriend right now.”

I slap his shoulder, miffed that he’s brought it up when it’s still so fresh.

“I’m kidding, Mia. I shouldn’t have said that and we’ll go to the hospital, but not because you said so, because it fucking hurts. That dude has a nasty right hook. You don’t just break another guy’s nose for anyone…you were special to him. I’m sure of it.”

This is so awkward. I don’t want to confide in Declan about Noah. That’s crossing a line. That’s what I have Grace for. I hope I still have Grace after all I’ve put her through these last few months.

On cue, she pulls up to the curb, unlocking the doors. “Hop in, you two.”

Declan opens the back door to Grace’s Volvo and ushers me in. I expect the door to close and for Declan to get in the front seat, beside Grace. Instead, he scoots me over and sits next to me in the back seat. Grace turns around smiling, “You’re going to make me your goddamn chauffeur? Some best friend.” She turns back to face the road, putting the car in drive.

I reach over the seat and squeeze Grace’s shoulder. “Thank you, Grace. You’re the bestest best friend in the entire world. The Thelma to my Louise.”

“The Kimmy to my DJ.”

“The Kelly to my Donna.”

Declan chimes in, breaking up the banter. “And I’m the Corey to your Topanga, now enough with the ‘90s trivia shit. Get me to the hospital so they can set this back in place. I don’t want a constant reminder of this night every time I look in the mirror.”

I do my best annoying baby talk impression. “Oh, my poor baby’s vain. You afraid you’ll lose those boyish good looks and the charm that goes with it?”

He loops his strong arms around my waist, pulling me closer to him. He nuzzles his face in my neck carefully, avoiding any direct contact with his nose. “I don’t give a shit what I look like as long as you don’t mind.”

I give in to the comfort of being back in my husband’s arms. This is where I belong. “Declan, you’re gorgeous, every woman’s dream. You stole my heart the minute you said my name in that library and it’s belonged to you, and only you, ever since. I think I need a matching tattoo…all those ones around
your
name. It’s always been you, my one and only.”

“Oh, you two make me sick.” Grace complains, as I flash a ridiculous smile at her through the rear view mirror.

“Shut up and drive.” I joke before hearing the faint beat of a familiar song coming from the radio. “Turn that up, Grace!”

Her hand hovers over the knob of the stereo as a huge smile stretches across her face.

“Is this your CD, Grace? What did you plan a soundtrack for our evening?” It’s too perfect for it to be coincidence.

“No, but if I could’ve this would have been it.”

Declan looks at me and laughs, understanding the connection Grace and I have to the song. The connection he and I have to the song.

Grace and I start belting out the words, channeling our best impersonations of Pat Benatar. By the time we get to the chorus, Declan’s joined in, with his own soulful, raspy twist on the meaningful words.
Whatever we deny or embrace, for worse or for better we belong, we belong, we belong together
.

How could I have ever doubted us? Declan and I belonged together from that second he said my name in the library, maybe even before then. I listen to my husband singing the sweet words, his arms tangled around me—this is right where I belong.