Mia

I can’t believe how wrung out I feel as I rest back against the couch and stare sightlessly at the TV. After I spoke to Doctor Bob and heard all his sage advice I was so freaking happy and hopeful that I immediately tried to call Luc.

It was crunch time I told myself, time to put all my cards on the table and tell him that I love him, that I want to marry him and that I will commit to him without him loving me because it didn’t matter if he couldn’t say it yet, I felt it.

I was so excited to tell him about the baby and see his face because I know that he’d have been happy, even if that stupid happiness only stemmed from knowing that he had me beat.

I even laughed at that thought and rolled my eyes because the man was born in a cave as far as I am concerned. Oh hell, I even accept that a part of his proposal was some archaic belief that he needed to right his wrong as he saw it, in dishonoring me and taking my virginity.

It was all so clear to me. Luc would love me. He already knew how to show love, of course he’d have a light bulb moment round about the time I was screaming and pushing another human out of my vagina and voila! It would be love. Kissing, declarations of…many things.

I’m a romantic, okay, I daydream and what that dream looked like was not having my phone ring only for Fran to tell me in stilted, hesitant words that she’d seen Luc walking into the Claredon with Gisele.

That burst my bubble, it did, I won’t lie and say that I didn’t have a WTF, I wanna kill him moment. But I rallied! I came back swinging and told myself that maybe he had a reason and that since our new relationship and sharing clause he’d laugh and tell me about some ex that was trying to cling.

I’d laugh, tell him he was and would always be mine, blah, blah, blah and then we’d have hot sex and eat in bed.

That was how I saw this day going. Not having the asshole walk into the hospital room, ignore the elephant that was silently, menacingly standing in the corner and then give me shit right off the bat.

I even kissed him, for God sakes! Doesn’t that spell out my trust and willingness to listen before making a judgement?

Now I just don’t know what the hell to think! What was he doing there? Why see her and hide it? Did they go to a room? They must have, Fran saw them get on the elevator.

God, what the hell?

Banging on my door startles me out of my hurt induced obsessions and I stand with a scowl, trembling as I approach the door. I’m not opening if it’s Luc. I swear to God if he’s on my porch throwing a tantrum I will do something that I can never tell my baby about.

“Mia! Dammit, open this damn door and let me in before that asshole Cameron catches up with me.”

I jump at Fran’s yell and pull the door open just as Cameron hits the sidewalk, his strides coming so fast we both panic for a second before she dives in and I slam the door, locking it just as the handle turns.

“Dammit, Fran! Mia, open up and just listen to me before you go and get some bad ideas in your head.” He yells, pounding on the door while Fran clutches at her knees and wheezes.

“He came to the office and followed me all the way here. I thought for sure he was gonna catch me.”

“Fran, what the heck is going on?” I ask, confused out of my skull when she drags me away from the door and onto the couch.

“Apparently, Luc told him what happened, that I was the one who called you and let me tell ya, honey, that man is pissed at me! He started yelling about how I always interfere with your relationship and encourage you to sleep around and get into trouble. He even called me a bad friend!” she yells, throwing her hands in the air, the armpits of her silk shirt drenched in sweat. “How am I a bad friend? All I want to do is get you to come out of your shell and live. That’s all. I just want you to be happy.”

That last part is said on a whine that signals tears, something I don’t think has happened to Franny since her pet hamster died when she was five. The woman literally never cries.

“You are a good friend, Fran, don’t listen to that butthead. I have every right to know if Lucas is seeing someone else.”

“That’s what I said!” she yells, flopping back into the couch. “Jesus, this place looks a hell of a lot better since you stopped the DIY projects,” she says offhandedly, making my lips twitch.

“So he was what, yelling at you and following you? Why?” I ask, still confused by these events.

I need time to think, alone and here she is barging in with a situation that boggles my mind.

Fran flushes at my question and I roll my eyes, huffing on a groan.

“God, you’re seeing him?”

“Not seeing, seeing…ugh! We met the night he came over with Lucas  and Toby took a beating. I liked him, well I sorta liked him until he started yelling at me about you and Luc.”

“You liked him…as in…?”

“We had sex and we’ve been sorta seeing each other for the last week or so,” she mumbles guiltily, making me let out a muffled scream.

“No one tells me a thing. You’re seeing Cameron, Luc is seeing Gisele while I’m puking my guts out and feeling like shit.”

Pity party for one!

“I’m sorry. I didn’t want to jinx it, ya know. I kinda, maybe, thought that him and me…” she trails off, dropping her face into her hands.

We’re both acting like two silent depression victims an hour later when I hear my backdoor slam and jump off the couch, my pulse pounding. I’m this close to screaming when Jamaica strolls in, her brown hair with its blue streaks flying when she lands on the couch beside Fran and looks at me guiltily.

“I picked the lock. Sorry. I didn’t wanna alert the asshats out front to my arrival so I snuck over the neighbor’s fence. What are we doing hiding out in the middle of the day? By the way, Fran, thanks for scarin’ the shit outta me on the phone! I thought one of your Mafioso clients was trying to kill you.”

I fall back down as soon as my body comes out of its state of shock and throw my legs over them both, dying to hear what the heck happened to have Jamaica flying over here. And how she knew we were here.

“I panicked and you called at the wrong time,” she mutters, rolling her head and flapping at her armpits.

Which makes sense and explains how she became frightened, I think, narrowing my eyes suspiciously, but does not explain how she came to be here and…

And that party! I knew there was something hokey that I was missing and now that I think about it-

“Jamaica? How did you know Fran and I were here?” I ask in a conversational tone, watching her grey eyes twitch for just a split second before she turns to me with a smile.

“I guessed. I went to the apartment first and then I figured you and Fran would be here.”

That’s reasonable except how did she know I would be here, and not at home in Luc’s penthouse where I would have been, have been for days in fact.

I don’t talk to Jamaica all that much, we’re not exactly best buddies, more like we know each other through Fran but now that I think of it, now that my brain isn’t sex drunk I feel a rat lurking in the corner.

“Sure, that makes sense but how did you know I was here? How did you know that I wasn’t going home with Luc and for God sakes, how do you know how to pick a lock?” I ask, watching her face pale while Fran sits up and narrows her eyes.

“I can explain.” Jamaica bursts out, her body coming up off the couch as if she’s afraid of us both and needs to put distance between her and, well mostly, Fran.

“Explain.”

Although I already probably know, I think, grinding my teeth together to stave off a screaming fit.

Jamaica pauses, wringing her hands together and I am this close to jumping her when her shoulders slump.

“Please don’t be mad at me. Please. It was just supposed to be me keeping an eye on you at first but then Lucas got paranoid that you’d get mad at him and skip town again. He knew that if that was gonna happen, you’d tell Fran and since we’re all friends, well, I hope we are at least, he thought that I would know and he’d have fair warning.”

Sonofafreakingwhorebitchasshole!

She flinches when I let off an angry muffled scream and I would feel sorry for her when Fran’s eye ticks but right now I’m just so…

There are no words to describe what I feel right now. I’ve been such an idiot, trusting, trying, always loving Lucas and the truth is that he doesn’t trust me at all.

He looks at me and either sees the grungy secretary who caters to his every need or the sexy girlfriend who needs to be watched every second of the day.

It hurts me and also pisses me off to the point I feel as if my head will blow. And in all this, all this mess and lack of trust is the glaring fact that it doesn’t really matter what I do. I can quit, move, get another job, do whatever my temper dictates, but I will never escape him if I wanted to because I am pregnant and that means that he’s in my life for good.

“Ugh! Why, why can’t I just once catch a break?” I ask, looking upward for divine answers. “You’re a body guard? How long?” I demand.

“Since Spain,” she answers uncomfortably, shifting on the spot.

“Spain! How the heck did you know I was in Spain?”

“Lucas had everyone searching. One of the guys tracked you and stayed put to keep eyes on you. I was there when you got on that jet. I lost you after you landed but picked you up again when you got state side,” she says, cringing and scuffing her toe into the carpet.

“Are you saying that he’s had me spied on since I got back here? All through Oaks? All through Italy? And even now, after we got together?” I ask dazedly.

Jamaica swallows and nods, looking away guiltily.

“He had Cameron and some other mook on you before that but since you were getting gabby he hired a woman, probably thought it would be easier since we were connected through Fran and if you went out with us I could keep an eye out.”

“Eye out!” I yell, springing up to stamp my foot. “The man has had me watched since, since…oh God! Since I started working for him. What the hell.” I scream, stalking toward the liquor cabinet until it hits me I can’t even drink.

Detouring with a sob I hit the freezer and grab a tub of frozen chocolate mousse eating straight from the tub in front of the counter. I need comfort and a new fucking brain, it’s so boggled.

“Hoooowee girl, that man is either head over ass in love with your fine self or he’s a psycho.” Fran trills, walking in to join me with her own spoon.

Jamaica trails in after, her pace slower, almost hesitant before I grab a spoon and toss it her way, letting them follow me to the table.

“In love? He doesn’t ‘do love’.”

“Doesn’t do love?” Fran snorts, scooping up a huge amount of mousse and licking at it like a frozen treat. “Mia, face it girl, the man has got to love you.”

“Are you on his side?” I hiss, shoveling the dessert in as my anger rises.

“His side? Hell no, but come on, even I have to admit that if a man’s that cookookachoo it has to be love. He’s got you watched like a fucking hawk and he does shit like sit at your bedside when you’re sick.”

Okay, fair point.

“Are we forgetting he went into a hotel room with his ex?”

Valid! That point is valid and all too real I think, swallowing bile at the thought of all that Lucas being all over another woman. That’s my stuff he’s giving away!

They share a look and the hopeful light I saw in Jam’s eyes dies, her shoulders slumping dramatically.

“No. God, what a douche move. Do you think he…?” she trails off as if realizing what she said and winces when I wail around the spoon, my heart too broken to stop the tears I’ve been fighting.

“I knew it was too good to be true. Six years and now he sees me? He’s probably already hooking up with hotties on the side because he still thinks I’m ugly.”

Jamaica grimaces and I can tell she’s super uncomfortable when I start leaking, spit, mousse and tears going everywhere. Not my fault, I have hormones and feelings and all that woman stuff that makes me female.

“You’re hot!” Fran yells, getting a panicked look in her eyes when I cry harder, hating myself even as I keep going.

“No’mnooooot. I only look good because I got my hair done and I bought different clothes. Because I wanted to impress him but, but I still don’t care, ya know. The other day I wore my ugly glasses all day and I didn’t shower and wore sweats and, and that’s me. This pretty girl shit is too much pressure.” I cry, wiping my nose on my sleeve while Jamaica shudders and Fran winces.

“Erm, I got nothing,” Jam says, holding her hands up when Fran glances at her wide eyed.

“And, and I sorta found out I’m pregnant this morning.”

I did not mean to say it but the secret is so big and I need to tell someone.

“Don’t you dare tell anyone!” I yell, pointing my spoon at her threateningly.

She holds up her hands in defense and I only stop weeping/glowering when she crosses her heart and locks her lips.

“He should know though,” Fran says slowly, making my eyeballs stretch before I slump and dribble into the mousse.

Fran and Jam both gag and drop their spoons, leaning back to watch me devour the stuff. Just as I intended.

“He can suck a bag of di-”

“Oookay! Okay, we get you’re angry and all Mia, but babe, the guy is gonna be a dad,” she says, gulping and grinning at my belly. “He should know.”

“Why! So he can tell me he’s happy and then go celebrate with the whore of California?”

“Er, no, uh, just mostly because you’re too nice not to tell him and I, uh, think that he deserves to know? Look babe, the guy loves you, I would bet my ass on that and you know I don’t bet on anything.”

“He was with-”

“Yeah, we know. So here’s what I think you should do. First, if you’re not sure that he loves you for you, that it’s all about wanting to keep you now that you look good then stop looking good. Wear your suits again,” she says wincing and pulling a face. 

“That’s it? Your grand plan?” I sneer, my hormones making my anger rise swiftly.

“Calm down, Dirty Harry. I was going to continue. Wear the suits, Jesus, I can’t believe I’m telling you to put those disgusting things back on again. Go to work in them. Every day. Ignore him and pretend you don’t care. Remember, professional. But tell him.”

“Fran, the man’s gonna go mental if I tell him I’m pregnant and I won’t go back to his cheating ass.” I huff, throwing my hands up.

“Yeah, but just think, Mia, all that stuff he never talks about, the sharing you complain he won’t do, all of it is now up to him. Go back to the Mia you like-temporarily! Only temporarily, please-and leave the ball in his court. If he’s into you for your looks, or changed looks, then he’ll have a cow about your clothes. If he’s only in it for the baby, well then you walk but Mia, please, just this one last time, for you, give him a chance to get you back.”

“Fran-”

“You are always miserable without him, Mia. You know it, I know it and darn it, you deserve to get your chance.”

I dunno. I just don’t know.

“Look at it this way, Mia, you get to go to work and earn a salary to fuck with him,” Jam says, smiling darkly when I perk up.

“Yeah, I bet he won’t know what hit him.”