Cautious (Disastrous 2) - Page 39

“Look. Trust me when I say that having complete trust in someone is not the easiest part of a relationship. The five years I was married to Cynthia, it wasn’t easy. Fuck, we argued all the time, but I loved her, and we made it work. Building a relationship is never easy, Bro. You have to accept and trust Mia and live happily or don’t and let her go.” He paused, and when he noticed that I wasn’t responding, he proceeded. “I know you’re upset with Mom because I am too, but your anger is not just directed at her, dude. Your anger is based on your insecurities. You lost Mia once. You’re afraid of losing her again. I lost my wife without the chance of ever getting her back. Don’t fuck it up.”

Fucking asshole. I was pissed that he was fucking right in many ways, and I’d never heard him talk about Cynthia since her passing. “You’re right.”

He laughed, “What was that? I didn’t hear you well. Can you repeat yourself?”

“Fuck off! If you didn’t hear me the first time, tough shit.”

He burst out laughing. “Fair enough. Don’t forget to call Mom. She’s freaking the fuck out and driving me insane. I have to take care of an eight-year-old. I don’t need to be taking Mom in too.”

“Yeah. I’ll shoot her a text and tell her that we’ll talk when I get back.”

“Cool, see you soon.”

After we ended the call, I sent my mother a quick text and tossed the phone in my back pocket. I entered the hotel room and immediately walked around in search of Mia. I was probably gone for twenty to thirty minutes. After a quick glance around the living area and bedroom, I made my way to the bathroom. The door was opened and I spotted her by the vanity. She was fully dressed in a chocolate colored skirt, a teal blouse, and brown knee boots, ready for the early dinner with her grandparents that evening. She looked gorgeous. I leaned into the archway of the bathroom door. With my arms and legs crossed, I studied her. Her expression was somber as she applied her makeup. Her back was facing me, but I was able to see her reflection from the mirror in front of her. She hadn’t noticed my presence yet.

I knew she was thinking about our argument. Her eyes watered, and she leaned over the sink and took slow steady breaths. After she calmed herself, trying to not cry, she looked back in the mirror and ran a piece of cotton wipe covered with some type of gunk along her cheekbones. She was trying to hide the red blotches that formed when she broke out in tears. I was a fucking asshole. I promised myself that I would never cause hurt or tears for her again, and that’s exactly what I had done. There she was crying over me again.

Mia must have finally sensed my presence because she looked up in the mirror and our eyes locked. Her eyes were filled with sadness, and I was the one responsible for it. She tore her eyes away and continued to apply her makeup, as if I wasn’t there, as if she didn’t want anything to do with me.

And that fucking hurt.



There was no strength left inside of me: I didn’t want to argue, cry, or even deal with any of it anymore. I just wanted to get ready and meet up with the others for dinner that evening. Marcus stood by the bathroom door, and I could feel his lingering heated gaze. I wasn’t sure how long he was watching me, but the moment our eyes locked in the reflection of the mirror, I wanted nothing more than to reach out to him, touch him, feel him, and somehow comfort him. How could I? I was wrong and I knew it.

I had truly thought our relationship had taken a leap, that we were finally moving forward, but at that moment, I wasn’t sure anymore. There would always be doubt and secrets, but how much could a relationship take? I loved him. I truly, with all of my heart and soul, loved him more than any person could love another. Despite that fact, a time may come when even a love that strong might not be enough. Until then, I had no choice but to stick it out and fight for us. Was he willing to do the same? As the doubt crept through my veins, I felt the warmth of fresh tears sting my eyes again. Great, I had tried to steady my tears for the last fifteen minutes, and the fact that he was in the bathroom watching me wasn’t helping.

Reaching out for a tissue from the granite vanity, I quickly dabbed it along my lids. Come on, Mia. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. I took a few steady breaths, and that was when I felt him directly behind me. His hand gently clasped my arm. For a moment, he was hesitant as my body immediately stiffened at his touch, but then he twirled me around to face him. My body pressed against the counter top, as my gaze met his.

With troubled eyes, he framed my face with his hands. Gently he caressed my cheeks with his thumbs. We continued to stare at each other at a loss for words, afraid that any simple word spoken could be the wrong one.

“I’m sorry,” he finally said. My mouth opened to speak, but he cut me off. “No, listen to me. I’m an asshole. I’m sorry.” With pinched brows, he shook his head, as if trying to rid himself of a memory.

“Yes, you are an asshole, sometimes.” He raised a brow at that. “But you had every reason to be upset. I should be the one apologizing, not you. I’m sorry.”

“Well, I’m trying to grow up.” He chuckled beneath his breath, and then expression grew serious again. He then pressed his lips together before tightening his hold along my face. “Mia, I know that my temper sometimes gets the best of me. I’m trying to work on that—on a lot of things actually. Telling you how I feel is a major one, but I’m also trying to do all of this without having to hand over my man card.”

I snorted at that last comment. “Is that what this is all about? Maintaining your man card?”

“No, I just wanted to see you smile.” He lightly shrugged and flashed an adorable crooked grin. It was difficult to not forgive that smile, but I dropped my amusement to show him that our argument hadn’t been forgotten. He must’ve understood, because he released his hold from my face to grip my hips and lift me on top of the counter. He nestled in between my legs, rested his hands along my thighs, and cleared his throat. “Okay, give it to me.” He blurted. Confused, I awkwardly shrugged, unaware of what he wanted me to give. “Tell me what’s on your mind, at this very moment.” He tapped his fingers against my thighs waiting for me to speak up.

“Well, to be honest?” He nodded once for me to go on. “It’s frustrating being your girlfriend.” He laughed out loud not expecting that response from me, I was sure.

“Go on.”