Ready For You (15 page)

Finally, as we were walking back from the restaurant, I snapped. “Damn it, Mia! Please tell me what’s wrong.”
 

Her eyes became watery, and she pushed away the tears with her sleeve. “I visited my parents today.”
 

That was the last thing I’d expected. As we entered the hotel and made our way to the elevator, I tried to come up with a reply.

“They live here?”

She nodded. “Yes, they moved here after I left…Richmond.”

I had a feeling she had been about to say,
after I left you
, but I didn’t press.
 

“Okay, so you visited your parents. Please explain to me further, so I can understand,” I pleaded.
 

The elevator dinged, and we stepped out onto our floor. She fished out her key card, and I waited. She unlocked her room and stepped inside, and then I followed her inside. Our conversation wasn’t over. I closed the door behind me, and she turned, becoming aware of the very small space between us.
 

“I haven’t seen them in eight years,” she said.

“Eight years, Mia? Why?”

I searched her face for answers, but she wasn’t giving any.

“I wasn’t perfect anymore,” she answered.

Fuck friendship boundaries.
 

I took a step forward and pulled her into my arms. She came willingly, and I tried not to think about how perfectly she still molded into my body.

“Tell me about today,” I said gently.

“She didn’t recognize me,” she said into my chest.

“What do you mean?”

“My own mother. She didn’t recognize me. If she did, she pretended not to. The maid brought me in, and my mother looked up and said, ‘May I help you?’ She just stared blankly at me like I’d come off the streets, looking for a job.”

“Did you say anything to her?” I asked as I stroked her hair.

“No, I turned and ran, so she wouldn’t see my tears.”

“Oh, baby, I’m so sorry.”

I held her until all her tears dried up, and the sobs ceased, but even then I didn’t let go. I couldn’t. Now that I had her, I didn’t want to lose the feel of her between my arms again. Her head turned upward, and our eyes met. Hers were still red, but they were the most beautiful eyes I’d ever seen. They were blue and translucent, like ocean water.
 

“Garrett, I—”

“Shh,” I said.
 

I bent down and hovered, feeling her heart beating against mine, as I waited for her to push away. She didn’t, and for the first time in eight years, I found heaven again as my mouth brushed up against hers. Our lips met hesitantly at first, and we kissed each other softly, like a reunion of souls. But soon, our impatience grew, and I needed more. My fingers dived into her hair and angled her mouth, so I could kiss her long and deep. She tasted exactly the same yet completely different. It was like having a favorite wine and trying it again several years later after it had aged a bit. She was still my Mia but bolder, fiercer, and sexier.
 

She moaned into my mouth, and I lost it.
 

Slipping my hands down to her thighs, I caught her knees and pulled her up around my torso as I walked us to the bed.
 

I was done being friends with Mia Emerson.

With her hands wrapped around my shoulders, we tumbled onto the mattress. She watched me as I slipped my hands under her dress and pulled it over her head. My dreams hadn’t done her justice. She was stunning. Her breasts spilled over the edge of her lacy pink bra, and they were begging to be touched and licked. Reaching behind her, I undid her bra and freed it from her body. She squirmed and writhed underneath me as I attacked, rubbing each nipple between my fingers into a taut peak.
 

Bending down, I licked and sucked that perfect pink nipple until she was screaming.

“Oh God, Garrett!”

Hearing her say my name nearly made me come in my jeans.
 

In one swift movement, I reached over me and pulled off my T-shirt. I groaned as her hands found my chest.
 

Loving the way her hands felt on me, my hands found her waist and I lifted up off the bed and flipped us, loving my new view—Mia on top of me in a lacy pink thong.
 

I watched as she bent over and started kissing her way up my body. Her nipples brushed against my skin, and I felt myself growing harder with every single touch. She paid special attention to my tattoos, stopping to kiss the band around my left arm, the knot woven over my shoulder, and then moved to my inner arm.

“Stop,” I said suddenly.

Her eyes focused on the script, and she read the words. “
Until then
. What does it mean?” she whispered, her eyes now focused on me.

“Just drop it, Mia.”
 

Her eyes shifted to my arm again and stayed. “What does it mean, Garrett?”

I exhaled and pinched the bridge of my nose to keep the emotions at bay. I didn’t want to do this. Not now.
 
Not ever.
 
But there were some things you couldn’t outrun.
 

I took a deep breath. “That day we found out…when you were crying in my arms, asking what we were going to do. I wasn’t scared, not at all. You were carrying my child. The woman I loved was carrying my child. I didn’t care how old we were or what people would think. I kissed you and said everything would be okay because I knew it would be.”

She moved off of me, and I sat up. Both of us needed a bit of space. This was a conversation that we’d put off far too long.
 

“I always thought we would have a girl. I pictured her with your hair and my eyes. She’d be seven by now, Mia.”

She nodded, and a stray tear fell from her cheek. I grabbed my shirt and got up, knowing this was over. All of it was over. We were living a lie if we’d thought this could be fixed.
 

She’d aborted our child without giving me a choice. She’d left me with nothing more than a note and a shattered, broken heart. I couldn’t get over that.
 

I wouldn’t.

“I got the tattoo to remind myself that despite your decision, I’d see my child someday.”

She didn’t say anything else, and I started to take my exit.

“Garrett,” she said softly as I was about to close the door behind me.

I turned around and saw her looking up at me from the bed. She’d pulled the sheet up to cover herself.
 

“You were right,” she said.

“About what?”
 

“The baby…was a girl.”

Chapter Twleve

~Mia~

I should have waited.
 

We had a plan. We were going to tell them together, but I hadn’t listened.

“What did you just say, young lady?” my mother asked, her voice taking on that authoritative tone I hated.
 

“I’m pregnant, and Garrett and I are getting married this summer.”

I watched as the words settled, and her glare deepened. She still maintained her impeccable posture, sitting on the couch like she was expecting the royal court to arrive at any moment. My father paced behind her like a caged lion—or cowardly lion. He didn’t bother to say anything. He never did.
 

“And just how do you expect to support yourself?” she asked.

“We’ve talked it through, and we’re both still going to school. I’ll take the second half of next year off to spend with the baby, and Garrett will attend part-time to pay for our apartment.”

Her icy demeanor didn’t change in the slightest. She showed no emotions, no hysterics. “And school? How are you going to pay for school?”

My mouth gaped open, but I closed it without a single word springing forth.

“Oh, you thought we were going to pay for it? Well, that was before you decided to get yourself pregnant. If you choose this life, Amelia, you’re on your own,” she said.

“Mom, you can’t do that! What about my trust fund?” My voice was rising, and my panic was soaring as well.

“Oh, I can, and I will. I will not support this embarrassing behavior, and neither would your grandfather, if he were alive. If you want a future that we pay for, you will end this, all of it, right now.”

My eyes widened in horror as I stared into her stone-cold face, hoping she didn’t mean what I thought she meant.

“You can’t truly mean that?”

“I do. Do you really think that you and that boy can raise a child on your own? Do you really think you can afford to live and pay for college? Who do you think will have to drop out, Amelia? I might not like the boy, but he’s loyal. Do you think he’ll let you give up your dreams?”

We’d planned it all out. We hadn’t gone into this lightly. We’d looked up housing costs and made budgets and goals. Garrett had even started looking for places he could contact for work after we moved, but everything hinged on our parents’ support. We had briefly talked about staying local, attending a community college for a few years, but he didn’t want to hinder my dreams of going to my first-choice school. He wanted me to have everything.
 

“I can see from your face that you know he wouldn’t. Are you willing to destroy his life along with yours for this future you have planned?”

The life I’d envisioned and planned started fading…vanishing. Garrett would give up everything for our child and me, including himself. There was no happy ending for us, not anymore.
 

“No, Mom, I’m not.”

The scattered papers in front of me hadn’t moved in thirty minutes. I’d been frozen in my thoughts, lost in my memories and haunted by my regrets for most of the day. I didn’t think I’d done a single productive thing since I clocked in four hours earlier.
 

Leah breezed in from one of the labor rooms, looking far too good for someone in a pair of scrubs. She leaned over the counter with a wide grin. “Hey, heard you went on a trip. How was it?” she asked.

“Oh, it was, um…good.”
 

“Good? That’s all I get? I thought we were friends. Friends get more than
good
, Mia.”

Where did I begin? Did I say it was an amazing two days? Yes, two days, not four. That was why I was at work on a Sunday afternoon when I should still be in New York.
 

I’d woken up the morning after the incident and found Garrett banging on the door. He’d told me to get dressed and that we needed to head to the airport. Something had come up, and we had to catch an earlier flight home. He’d briefly apologized in the cab for cutting our trip short, but that had been the only conversation we shared the entire way home. He hadn’t needed to lie. I’d known there wasn’t anything that had suddenly come up at home that needed his attention. He hadn’t wanted to be around me anymore, and I couldn’t blame him.

“We had a great time. He took me to a toy store,” I said with a shy smile.

“A toy store? Yeah, that sounds like Goober.”

“Goober?” I asked, intrigued by the nickname.
 

I’d noticed Leah had nicknames for almost everyone. She called her husband Hotshot and would sometimes refer to herself as Mrs. Hotshot with a goofy grin.
 

“Yeah, it’s a nickname I gave him a long time ago when he was short, adorable, and annoying. Actually, most of those are still true—except for being short. He’s like a tree now.”

A flash of him bending down to kiss me in the hotel room came rushing back suddenly. There was always quite a height difference between the two of us, and I’d loved the way he would curl himself into me to steal a kiss.
 

I kissed you and said everything would be okay because I knew it would be.

When he’d kissed me again after so much time, I’d felt a part of my heart repairing itself. But I had been living a fantasy. There were some things that couldn’t be forgotten.

“Well,” Leah said, her eyes locking with mine, “if you need someone to talk to, Mia, I’m here. From the expression on your face right now, I know there’s more going on, so please talk to someone. It doesn’t have to be me, but I’m here, and I won’t judge. I’m going to go check on my patients one last time and then clock out.”

She turned away and disappeared down the hallway, and I was once again alone with my thoughts.
 

I was so tired of thinking.

After Garrett had silently dropped me off, I’d spent the rest of the weekend drowning in my own thoughts until I finally called into work to see if I could cancel my day off. I’d thought that at least I’d have something to do besides mope around the house. I hadn’t even bothered calling Liv to tell her I was home early, so she could bring Sam back.
 

As I’d waited for Sunday to come and work to follow, I’d just sat in my empty house and remembered. Memories could be the best and the worst part of living. The good kind could keep someone going, serving as a reminder to keep moving even when life was intent on dragging one down. The bad memories were like little reminders of everything everyone tried so hard to forget—reminders of failure, guilt, and periods of our past that were unchangeable. They clawed at every good memory, making them fade into the background until only pain was left.
 

Months after that fateful night with my parents, when my entire world had changed, I’d spent hours on the Internet researching grief. I’d read story after story of other women who had gone through the same thing I had. I’d learned I had a form of posttraumatic stress disorder, but I had felt too ashamed to seek treatment.
 

What would I tell the doctor?

I’m the reason my child isn’t alive. I left my fiancé, and now, I can’t walk down the street without crying.
 

Who would feel bad for me?
 

Eventually, the tears had started to ebb, and I’d found the strength to attend classes. School had become my obsession and coping mechanism. I’d paid for every single semester. Thanks to a generous scholarship from a small college out west and many student loans, I’d made it on my own. I had been done living under my mother’s authority.