It was quiet again, and the fire crackled before us as I digested his words.
“I’m marrying Mia.”
“Are you asking for my permission?”
I shook my head. “Advanced notice.” I should’ve asked for permission, and I’d thought about it out of respect, but Bruce nor Lynch had hardly been a father. Nodding, Bruce handed over another beer. “If you keep feeding me alcohol, I’m going to have to sleep on your couch.”
“Please, I’d sleep better knowing you were in the house. I’m afraid a knife-wielding PMS-ing maniac will gut me in my sleep here,” he laughed. “And I’m not referring to Mia.”
“Ah, you’re on your own with that one.”
“You handled yourself pretty well in there. I’ve never heard anyone speak to Diane like that. She went straight to bed, and it’s only,” Bruce glanced at his watch, “Shit, It’s only eight-thirty. I’m getting old.”
For hours Bruce and I kicked back around the fire, talking and drinking. It was almost midnight before we turned in, and he threw me a blanket and pillow from a chest in the corner of the living room. I told him he was asking for it, defying his wife. He said she wouldn’t leave her room, and I’d be safe. I clicked on the telly, turned down the volume, and a Friends marathon was on.
My eyes flitted open to see Mia standing above me, shaking me. “What are you still doing here?”
I pinched the bridge of my nose, still out of it. “Your dad got me drunk.”
Mia giggled, and my gaze roamed over her bare legs, the lights from the telly bouncing off her ivory skin in the dark. She had little sleep shorts on and my MAKE LOVE NOT WAR tee. “What are you doing awake?”
“I can’t sleep. Ever. I came down for a glass of water.”
I lifted the covers as an invitation, Mia sank beside me, and I inhaled her jasmine scent. “Are you watching Friends? This is the one where Ross and Rachel take a break.”
“Zeke never liked this one.”
Mia laughed. “Zeke watched Friends?”
“Are you kidding? Zeke was obsessed with American sit-coms. The Office and Friends were his favorite. Played it all the fucking time.”
“So, the real question is … were they on a break?”
“That was their first mistake. You can’t put a technicality on love. They were both right. They were both wrong. End of story.”
Mia’s shoulders shook, laughing, her arse rubbing against me, and my cock tightened inside my jeans. I had to control myself, being under her dad’s roof and all, but my tipsy hands had a mind of their own as they dragged up her thigh, under her shorts, and grabbed a palm full of her arse. Mia turned in my arms to face me, and her laughter faded, eyes growing heavy under her long thick lashes. “Ollie,” she warned.
“What?” I grinned, lifting her thigh over my leg. “I’m not going to bang you at your dad’s house, Mia. That would be completely inappropriate.” A nervous smile tugged on her lips, and I tilted my head. “Why are you smiling, love?”
“I’m just glad you’re real,” she whispered.
There is that feeling you get when someone is watching you. With my eyes closed, my soul twisted and turned inside me, tapping my unconscious brain and doing jumping jacks inside my skin, anything to wake me and confront the eyes peering down at me.
I pried my lids apart to see Diane standing over Mia and me with a coffee cup in hand, cringing as if she were in pain at the sight of us. It took seconds for me to put the pieces together before I jumped from the couch. Her gaze trailed over my tattooed chest to my jeans, and I looked down to see my knob bursting to get out.
My eyes widened.
Her eyes widened.
I grabbed a throw pillow from the couch to cover myself.
I’d never been embarrassed before, until that very moment.
My throat went dry, words utterly lost on me. This lady looked like she wanted to kill me. And suddenly I understood Bruce’s fear. “I’m so sorry. I was up late with Bruce. He offered the couch. I didn’t want to drive home under the influence,” that sonofabitch left me to fend for myself, “I’ll leave.” Mia rolled over into the couch, her tiny body wholly hidden under the blanket. The only evidence of her was her brown locks sticking up from under the blanket. I looked back at Diane, who hadn’t moved. “We didn’t,” I shook my head, “It’s not what it looks like.”
“Right, because that would have been disrespectful, you know … Fornicating on my white couch.” She brought the white mug to her lips and turned to walk into the kitchen.
DIANE SAT IN THE KITCHEN, staring blindly out the arched window beside the breakfast table. “Your boyfriend left,” she whispered, her voice small and barren. “I made coffee.”
I shuffled into the kitchen where her grief felt like gravity, compressing me into nothing. I didn’t know what time it was, but it was still early, and the smell of coffee swirled through the cracks of her gravity, pulling me in. The mugs hung from a black tree stand beside the coffee pot, and I took a mug, poured the coffee, and added heaps of cream and sugar.
“I love your father, Mia,” she began to say, not looking at me but out the window. “I do. I’ve always loved him.”
“I don’t know where you’re going with this.” It was too early, and I didn’t have the headspace to decipher her.
Diane sighed, and she did that every time she was about to say something. I leaned against the counter and sipped from the mug, staring at the back of her blonde bob. She was in a fluffy pink robe, hair raveled, and not perfectly in place.
“It’s not easy to fall in love with a man who lost his wife and daughter all at once. I’m a woman, so I’m expected to understand and mend the broken pieces. To turn a house into a home again. To connect with a girl who can’t connect with anyone. To pretend marrying me should’ve fixed everything, and the disappointment after when it didn’t.”
“No one expected you to fix everything.”
She shook her head, and her hair swung behind her. “When I couldn’t, I thought for sure the baby would. Maybe if I got pregnant, having a little one around would be the answer. And now I realize, all the pressure placed on me, I was placing on my baby. Maybe I am the one to blame for losing her. And I don’t know why I’m telling you this anyway. You don’t care about anything.”
My fingers gripped the coffee mug that was still hot in my hand. “I’m trying to. To be honest, if I did know you were pregnant at the time, I probably wouldn’t have cared. But, I’m trying now.”
“So just like that?”
“Just like that.” I kicked off the counter and pulled out a chair beside her. “Did you ever think we’re just two women, both not filling expectations? All my life I was expected to remember, to feel, to relate, to understand. Now, I’m expected to have all the answers and know who I am. I’m starting to think we’re never supposed to have it all figured out, and maybe that’s the beauty of it all.”
Diane swung her head to face me, eyes narrowing. “Who are you, and what have you done with Mia Rose?”