Mia

I glare over at Dix as the closing credits to The Shootist start rolling.

“That was the saddest movie ever,” I say.

“It’s a classic,” he counters. “John Wayne’s last movie.”

“Yeah, but…it’s so sad.”

Dix shrugs. “Sometimes life’s sad, too.” He tips a bottle of beer to his lips and finishes it.

“Believe me, I know. That’s why I like my books and movies to be happy. They’re an escape.”

Anton pats my knee briefly from his spot beside me on the couch. “Next time we’ll watch The Notebook.”

“No, we can’t watch that!”

He lowers his brows, confused. “Isn’t that a chick flick? I thought all chick flicks had happy endings.”

“Some people would tell you The Notebook has a happy ending, but I’m never watching it again,” I say adamantly. “It made me cry.”

Dix groans, disgusted. “Life ain’t all roses and sunshine, Mia.”

“Yeah.” I give him a wry look. “You’re really roughing it in that fancy motorized wheelchair.”

He cracks a rare smile. “I won’t argue with that. See how pleasant the beer and nachos made me, you two? Get me some porn and a bottle of lotion and I’ll be the jolliest fuckin’ old man you ever seen. I’ll have sunshine comin’ out my ass.”

“Not happening,” Anton says, standing up and reaching down to take my empty plate.

“I’ll get them,” I say.

“Just sit, I’ve got it.” He takes my plate, then Dix’s.

“Hell of a note,” Dix mutters. “Makin’ an old man go to his room, while you two will be out here doing a live action porno. I can’t even get a goddamn nudie mag.”

My face warms and I stand up immediately. “Actually, I better go.”

Anton stops halfway across the living room and looks back at me. “Ignore him.”

“Believe me, I do. But I really should go before it gets late.”

“You sure?”

His expression is disappointed, and I want to sit back down and stay so badly. I can’t, though. The more I’m around Anton, the more attracted to him I am, and the less I trust myself to be alone with him.

“Yeah.” I walk over to the chair I left my coat on and grab it, putting it on.

“Let me put these in the kitchen and then I’ll see if the doorman can come up so I can drive you home.”

“I’m not gonna die if you leave me in bed alone for an hour,” Dix says gruffly.

“I’ll just take an Uber,” I say.

“No, let me drive you.”

I really want to. I like being next to him while he’s driving, sneaking the occasional glance down at his big hands, which really turn me on. I like the way there are no distractions—just the two of us alone, talking.

And that’s exactly the problem. I feel guilty over how much I like being alone with Anton. I shouldn’t have come here on a Saturday night; it’s not like this is a night where I’m taking care of Dix.

Kevin dropped everything to start my case when I called him. He asked me to come into his office immediately and told me he filed the paperwork to start the case rolling already.

I was relieved, anxious and thrilled all at the same time. I can’t believe I’m actually getting divorced. My marriage to Adam has been an emotional prison for such a long time. Being free from him was a dream I didn’t even dare consider.

It’s happening now, though. I’m going to end our marriage in the only way it still exists—the legal one. In the meantime, I’m not going to be a cheater. And it’s not about being true to Adam, but to myself.

If Anton wants to be with me—which is a very big if—I want him to know exactly what he’s getting into, and I don’t want to start anything with him until I’m completely free of Adam.

I can’t tell him the whole truth about me though. Not yet. No one’s ever looked at me the way he does, with a gleam in his eyes that tells me I’m beautiful and worthy. That shine may fade when he discovers who I really am, and I’m not ready for that.

“Anton,” I say, my tone soft but firm. “I’ll take an Uber.”

He nods, his shoulders dropping a little as he turns to put the plates in the sink.

“I’ll walk you downstairs and wait with you,” he says.

He stands next to me in the elevator, both of us leaning against the back wall.

“Tonight was good,” he says, clearing his throat. “For me, I mean.”

“It was good for me, too.” I smile and stare straight ahead, unable to look at him because I know I’ll think about moving closer if I do.

“Just good?” There’s laughter in his tone. “It wasn’t the best you’ve ever had?”

My cheeks warm as I answer. “The nachos were, but I can’t say the movie was.”

“Hmm. We’ll have to work on that.”

I glance over at him and he winks. My stomach does a quick flip before the doors open and I turn to face forward again. Anton doesn’t usually flirt with me, and I find I like this side of him.

“Uncle Dix really likes you, you know,” he says as we wait in the lobby of his building for my Uber to arrive.

“I like him, too.”

“I like him about ten percent of the time,” he cracks.

“He’s really proud of you. You should hear him when we watch your games on TV.”

“You watch them, too?”

“Yes. I like watching with Dix. He knows his hockey.”

“He played in high school. He wasn’t the best from what I’ve heard, but he had to be the all-time chirping champion.”

I laugh hard at the visual. “Can you imagine?”

“Bet he told every single opposing player, individually, about the filthy things their mothers did to him the night before.”

When my Uber driver pulls up, Anton glances in the car at him and apparently approves because he opens the rear passenger door for me to get in.

“Let me know you made it home okay,” he says.

“I’ll be—”

He cuts in. “I know, fine. Just text me, okay?”

I nod.

“’Night, Mia.”

“See you in the morning.”

I feel warm during the ride home. I never would’ve thought I’d feel so at home spending a Saturday evening with one of Adam’s teammates and his curmudgeonly uncle, but I did. Anton is nothing like Adam. And I sense that Dix wears his armor for a reason. Maybe someday he’ll want to tell me why.

It’s bitterly cold on this late December night, and I hurry into my building and up to the apartment, quickly locking the door behind me.

It’s quiet inside. I peek in the door of Anita’s bedroom since the door is open and see Dre curled up under the covers, asleep with the soft glow of a bedside light illuminating his face.

I’m getting really attached to that kid. But the closer we get, the more I mourn the fact that I can’t have babies of my own.

“Mia?” Anita calls from inside the bathroom.

“Yeah, it’s me. I just got home.”

“I’m just getting out of the shower,” she says. “There’s mac and cheese on the stove if you’re hungry.”

“Thanks, but I’m good.”

I head into the kitchen to see if there are dishes to wash. Anita’s usually a dishwashing ninja—they barely even hit the sink before she’s scrubbing them clean—but occasionally I manage to wash some for her.

There’s a knock on the door before I even make it all the way to the sink. I go look through the peephole and see our neighbor Lilian from across the hall. She’s an older woman, and she looks upset.

“Anita, it’s Lilian,” she says in a rush. “Can I come in please?”

I unlock the deadbolt and open the door.

“Lilian, are you—”

My heart falls to my feet when I see Adam next to her. He wasn’t visible from the peephole. His dark eyes are bloodshot, which means he’s probably drunk. The blackness of them projects pure hatred towards me, and terror races through my veins.

“Mia, I’m sorry,” Lilian says tearfully. “He was going to hurt my dog if I didn’t do it.”

“Get out of here,” Adam says to her, his gaze on me. “And if you call anyone, I’ll come back and break that fucking dog’s neck.”

Lilian is weeping as she shuffles back to her apartment door. Adam lunges toward me, forcing me to take a few steps back. He slams the door and stalks forward, shoving me toward the kitchen so hard I fly across the floor and then land in a heap.

“You’re fucking Anton Petrov? Really, Mia?” His tone is loaded with fury.

“I work for him,” I say weakly.

The strong, confident Mia is nowhere to be found. When Adam gets angry, I revert back to the terrified woman he made me.

“Don’t fucking lie to me.” He draws back his foot and kicks me hard in the stomach. The force of it leaves me gasping for air. “I started following you after my attorney got the divorce papers. That fucker’s bankrolling you, isn’t he?”

He reaches down and grabs a handful of my hair, jerking my head up. “Isn’t he?” he yells in my face.

“No. Adam, stop,” I beg. “You’re hurting me.”

“We’re even then, bitch. You hurt me, too. You were nothing but a ghetto whore when I met you. Guess you never changed. But I’ll be damned if you get half my money. Not when you’re fucking around on me with Anton.”

Before I have any time to react, he climbs on top of me, his weight pinning me to the floor. He’s straddling my chest and I can hardly breathe.

“Stop,” I cry, trying to push him off me with flailing arms.

He’s so strong, though. It’s no use. I’ve never been so scared in my life as I am right then, when Adam wraps his hands around my neck and starts to squeeze.

“You fucking whore.” His voice is a calm rage as he tightens his hold.

I can’t breathe. I’m getting lightheaded already, the fear that I’m going to die only making it worse. I’m kicking my legs and hitting him with my hands, but nothing happens. Adam’s hands are locked around my throat and I know he won’t let go until I’m dead.

I feel a sudden warmth in my pants as I lose control of my bladder. The urge to breathe is so overwhelming, but I can’t get any air in my throat.

Fuck.

I think of my grandpa. Who will take care of him now?

Grabbing hold of Adam’s shirt, I try to pull on it, but my strength is fading. I lose my grip on the shirt’s collar just as a cracking noise sounds.

The pressure on my neck is gone immediately and my throat burns as I try to inhale. Adam falls off me like a sack of bricks, dropping to the floor. Anita is standing behind him with a wooden bat. She looks like a baseball player who just took a mighty swing—because she did, at Adam’s head.

“Breathe slowly, Mia,” she says. “You’re okay.”

Air fills my lungs, but it doesn’t seem like enough. I gasp, trying to get more in.

“Slowly,” Anita says. “Go lock yourself in the bedroom with Dre ‘til the police get here. I already called them.”

I shake my head and manage to stand up, tears blurring my vision as I reach for the bat.

“No, honey,” Anita says softly. “You don’t want to do that.”

I do. I want to beat Adam’s unconscious body so hard he’ll never wake up. But Anita is refusing to give up the bat.

Instead, I walk to the butcher block of knives on the counter and pull one out. My throat still burns and my stomach aches, but I’ve got it in me—the hatred that drives people to do bad things. I feel it now, in this moment, as I look at Adam’s body on the floor.

“Mia, look at me,” Anita orders.

I turn to face her, my hand wrapped around the handle of the gleaming silver knife.

“You don’t want to do this,” she says. “He’s unconscious and the police are on their way. If he wakes up before they get here, I’m gonna knock his ass right back out again. He will be arrested. You’re safe now. Put down the knife and go into my bedroom.”

Tears fall to my cheeks.

“It’s me or him,” I say. “He was gonna kill me.”

“And he’ll go to jail for it. You don’t want to end up in jail, too.”

I loosen my hold on the knife. “But Anita, if you hadn’t been here…”

“I know, baby. This motherfucker’s a cold-blooded murderer. But you’re not. Let the police handle him.”

“Mama?” Dre calls from the bedroom.

“It’s okay,” Anita calls back. She nods toward the bedroom. “Go, get in there.”

Numb, I nod and set the knife on the counter, then walk back to my bedroom. Mechanically, I change into dry underwear and pants, then go into Anita’s room. I crawl into bed next to Dre and hold back my urge to sob, because I don’t want to scare him.

“Go back to sleep,” I say softly.

He’s out within a minute. I slide out of bed then to go get my phone, and I text Anton.

Me: I’m not okay. I need you.