Page 11 of Where You Left Me

“When did you learn how to braid? And how did I never know this about you?” she asks.

“I don’t know. I’ve been doing it since I was a kid. My mom taught me when she taught Cammie. I guess she thought it might come in handy someday.”

“She was right. Thank you.”

Thinking about my mom is still hard. Talking about her is even worse.

I clear my throat and stand, handing her the end of the braid. “Hold this.”

I go into my kitchen and fill a glass with water. Then I rummage in a drawer until I find a metal bread tie. When I return to the bathroom, Mia has situated herself with her back pressed against the glass wall of the shower again.

For a brief moment, I allow myself to be the pathetic loser I once was. When I was hung up on her. Her sitting there looking rosy-cheeked, hair pulled back, shirt disheveled and revealing one bare shoulder: she’s beautiful. And I imagine her in that shower; tits pressed against the glass.

I shake my head. I’m an idiot.

Taking a seat on the floor next to her, I grip the end of her braid and twist the metal tie around it tight. Letting go of her hair, I run my hand up her back and stop at her neck. I squeeze it a few times, momentarily lost in a world where I’m allowed to do this.

I slowly release her neck. “Sorry,” I mutter and hand her the water.

“Thank you,” she replies softly, taking a sip. “I don’t deserve this.”

My brows pinch together. “What do ya mean?”

“This. You.” She throws a hand out. “Being nice to me. Taking care of me.”

“Well, I couldn’t very well let you puke all over my bar,” I scoff.

We both know that’s not the only reason, even if we don’t say it out loud.

“I expected you to make a scene. To yell at me. To throw me under the bus in front of our friends.”

“There’s still time for all that.” I exhale a mirthless chuckle.

She smiles faintly.

“But I figured this was punishment enough for one night.”

“Yeah, maybe.” She bites her lip like she’s got more to say but she’s holding it in.

Or maybe she has to hurl again.

I just hope she doesn’t want to get into it tonight. Because even though I’ve been waiting to have this conversation for eight years, I don’t know if I’m ready for it. At least not with the state she’s in.

“You…taking care of me…braiding my hair…It just has me thinking…”

“Yeah?” I say, though my heart beats like a kick drum in my chest while I wait for her response.

“You would’ve been a great dad.”

Mia’s wordskept me up most of the night. Not long after, she fell asleep on the tiled floor. I debated letting her sleep it off there so she’d be close to the toilet, but I couldn’t stand to see her like that.

So instead, I carried her to my bedroom and put her in my bed. She’d made a mess of her dress and to not get puke in my bed, I carefully slipped it over her head and tugged my old hockey sweatshirt on her. I had every intention of not looking. But the sparkly jewelry in her belly button caught my attention.

My mouth watered instantly. Which also meant my dick went hard too. How could it not? Mia had a bellybutton piercing. It was not only sexy, but it was new. A piece about her I didn’t know about.

It took so much fucking restraint to not wake her up. But I didn’t. That little fantasy would not go how I hoped. So, I left a plastic wastebasket next to her, grabbed a blanket and pillow, and sprawled on the couch in the small living room.

Mia was still sleeping when I headed downstairs to the bar early this morning. I couldn’t sleep anymore. Not only is that couch too small for a guy my size, but my brain has also been on overdrive since last night. And seeing Mia in my bed brought a whole hell of a lot more thoughts and feelings. One bonus is, I’ll have the bar clean and ready long before we open.

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