Still Into You (18 page)

The way her mouth tasted and her throat felt, she’d venture to say that there was some vomiting involved in her activities from the previous night.

She opened and closed her mouth a couple of times. She definitely needed some water. Picking up her head, Mia searched her bedside table and found a new bottle of water and her phone propped against it.

Gingerly, she rolled toward the table and grabbed them both. With her phone resting on her lap, she sipped from the bottle, praying her stomach didn’t object. Capping the water, she placed it back on the table and then turned her focus on the phone. There was a text waiting for her from Marc.

Marc

May 15, 2008, 934 AM

Sorry, baby girl. I had to leave and you were still asleep. I didn’t think you’d want me to wake you up just for me to say goodbye.

Hope you’re not too hungover. But I doubt that. You were so far gone when I arrived.

Please drink the water I left. You need to stay hydrated. You threw up a lot and then passed out on me. Such stimulating company you were.

Please text me when you get this. I have a meeting through lunch, but I’ll check my messages.

<3 you.

How much did she have to drink yesterday? Too much obviously.
Ugh!

She texted Marc a quick message letting him know she was up, and she was about to put her phone on the table and lie back down when a text from Allie popped up. Mia was tempted to ignore it, but she would be a good little lead singer.

Allie

May 15, 2008, 1207 PM

Uh, so I received something today.

Mia rubbed her aching head. It felt like it might explode and she didn’t feel like playing games with Allie today.

What?

Your wedding dress. They said it was paid for, so they finished it. So now I have it . . .

The phone slipped from her hands. Her beautiful wedding dress. As much as she tried to push the fact into the deep recesses of her mind, it was always right there: next weekend was supposed to be the happiest time in her life. She and Ethan were supposed to get married. They were to say their vows, make promises to the other until death do they part. Instead . . . she lay in her bed, alone and smelling like death.

She didn’t know what possessed her to type her response. At the moment she really didn’t care. All she wanted was the dress.

Bring it to me.

Maybe it was some sick sort of torture she thought she deserved. Whatever the reason, she needed to see it. This beautiful symbol of all that she had lost.

Are you sure?

Yes. Come over now.

I’ll be there within the hour.

Mia put down her phone and dragged herself to her bathroom to shower. She smelled like the floor of a bar. Peeling the clothes off her body, she winced at the unknown bruises she had on her legs and wrists. She stepped into the large, glass shower, turned the water on, making sure it was nice and hot, and let the spray hit her battered body for a bit before washing up.

After scrubbing herself raw, she felt a little better. She could no longer smell the stale alcohol. Instead she smelled honey and peaches.

Mia closed her eyes, remembering how Ethan used to come into the bathroom after her showers. He’d wrap her in his arms, nuzzle his face in the crook of her neck, and breathe deeply. It’s like her scent calmed him. How she wished she could do that with him right now, envelope herself with his body, his scent.

She wouldn’t cry, though she wanted to so badly. What she needed to do was force herself to think of something else. So Mia stood in the middle of the bathroom, a towel wrapped around her, the knot tucked under her arm, debating what to do next. She could clip her hair up and out of her face for now.

Nodding, Mia stepped up to the vanity, grabbed a clip, and looked in the mirror. Ignoring the pale, sunken face, she concentrated on her hair, pulling it into a loose knot at the nape of her neck. Without looking at herself in the mirror, she busied herself with brushing her teeth. She tossed her toothbrush into the cup and continued on to her closet, dropping her towel along the way. She searched for some underwear and was in the middle of putting them on when she heard the front door open and let out a nervous sigh.

“Mia?” Allie called out.

“Upstairs,” she answered, taking a few deep breaths, preparing herself for what was to come. Mia was fastening her bra as Allie walked into the bedroom.

“In the closet,” Mia spoke out. Allie came through the bathroom, holding a big, white box in her arms. Mia couldn’t tear her eyes away from it—the box that contained her wedding dress. Her breathing started to increase as Allie came closer. She placed it on the island in the center of the closet and stepped away.

Mia took a few steps towards the box and when she stood in front of it, she brought her hand to her mouth. She knew what was in there. A very beautiful, yet simple, sheath dress. The back was bare to her waist and was held up with thin straps. Along the waist, front and back, it was lightly embroidered. She loved the way it hinted at her cleavage, the way her back was highlighted and the way it hugged her hips and then flowed out.

She reached out but hesitated, her hands hovering over the box. Her labored breathing pounded in her ears. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and placed her hands on either end.

The box top resisted Mia’s attempts to open it, like it knew this was a bad idea. Allie came to her side to help. For a moment Mia had forgotten that her friend was there, and with her help, they uncovered the dress. Mia just stared at it.

“Allie, can you hang the dress on the display rack?” she asked. Mia didn’t dare touch it. Not yet.

When Allie backed away from the rack, Mia almost sobbed at the sight of her wedding dress before her.

“Mia, you don’t have to do this. I can put this away—” Allie said, but Mia cut her off.

“No! I want to try it on. Help me. Please.”

Allie carefully took the dress off the rack and held it so Mia could step into it. Mia shimmied it up over her hips and then her breasts. Allie began zipping the dress up, but Mia halted her.

“Undo my bra,” Mia ordered and held the dress in place while Allie unfastened her bra. Mia pulled it over and tossed it on the floor and stood straight while Allie secured the dress.

“Okay,” Allie spoke quietly as she stepped away.

Mia slowly turned around to face her friend and when she heard Allie’s rushed intake of breath, her gaze went straight to her face. So many emotions crossed Allie’s face—happiness, sadness, pity.

“You look stunning,” Allie said before turning Mia the rest of the way to face the mirror.

The moment she saw her reflection in the mirror, tears rushed to her eyes. “Oh, my God! It’s perfect,” she exclaimed. With that picture of herself in her mind, her eyes closed and she saw herself walking down the aisle, Ethan waiting for her at the other end.

But he would never see her in this dress. She would never see his beautiful smile as she walked down that aisle towards him and their future together.

She had no future with him.

Nothing.

Her body crumpled to the floor and she let the sobs she had held in out.

She had nothing. No Ethan. No future. And it was all her fault.

Mia

May 2008

Laying low had its advantages. The paparazzi no longer staked out her home, though Mia still saw them from time to time when she did venture out. But she didn’t do that very often. She went to the studio and that’s really about it. Tom was fine with staying in, but if he wanted to go out, she didn’t argue . . . much.

Looking out at the city skyline before her, Mia stood on the bridge over the South Pond in Lincoln Park Zoo. Yes, she’d actually gone out. The past week she’d been feeling caged in, on edge. She’d hoped a run along the lake would do her good.

On her way home, she decided to take the scenic route and cut through the zoo. She loved going this way, hearing the sounds of the animals and seeing the excitement on so many faces. Today, Mia lingered on the bridge, the sight of the city captivating her. Especially the way the light and the clouds framed the city skyline. Regarding it, she knew it would be the perfect picture of the city. Slipping her phone out of her arm band, she snapped a few photos of her beautiful adopted hometown.

As she tried unsuccessfully to put her phone back in the band, it rang. She blew out a breath in frustration. Continuing on her way home, she answered the call.

“Hello?”

“Mia. It’s Marc,” he said brusquely. He sounded rushed, winded, his heavy breaths loud through the speaker. She heard the blare of horns over the phone and the whole situation made her curious as to where he was.

“Marc, where are you? It’s so fucking loud I can barely hear you.”

“I’m at O’Hare.”

“Why are you there?” she asked, because when they’d spoken a couple days ago, he’d said nothing about a trip.

“Trying to make this flight to L.A.”

“So, if that’s what you’re doing, why are you on the phone with me?”

“I need to call in a favor.”

That stopped her walking. She knew something was up because even though she had asked for many favors, he had never collected on them. Not once in all the years she’d known him, but here he was, collecting, and if she was being honest, that scared her.

Standing in the middle of the sidewalk, she concentrated on her call. “Marc . . . what’s going on?”

“I made a big mistake this weekend.”

“What kind of mistake, Marc? Talk to me.”

With an exhale of breath, he spoke. “I, uh . . . Lizzie found me shooting up.”

“Shooting up? As in?”

“You know what I’m talking about, Mia.”

She did. She’d seen him do that before and naïvely thought that it wasn’t a habit, that it was a one-time thing. Obviously not and that worried the hell out of her. “Shit, Marc!”

“Yeah.”

“Why the hell are you going to L.A. then?”

“Rehab. I need to get out of here,” and the desperation she heard in his voice pulled at her. She recognized it.

And with that, she placed her fingertips on the bare piece of her chest, pressed down hard, and then she spoke, “What’s the favor?”

“I need you to be my contact, my person.”

She didn’t understand and voiced that to him.

“You’re the only one I’ve told.”

“Why not Lizzie?” Or Clark, she thought. Why her? Did he know what type of predicament this put her in?

“She’s pure, Mia. I can’t soil her with this.”

“Marc—”

“I don’t want her to know where I am or what I’m doing,” he said, almost in a shout.

“What about Tom?” she ventured. She needed to know what she could and could not share.

“Don’t tell him either. He’ll just tell her. Fuck, Mia. I have to hang up. I’ll text you the info later.”

“No, Marc—”

“Love you, baby girl,” and with that he hung up.

Fuck!

Mia removed the phone from her ear and just stared at it. She couldn’t believe that’d happened. Marc had his drug use under control, or so she’d thought. Did she have
hers
under control?

Yes!

But a small seedling of doubt was taking root in her mind. She shook it away and bolted home. After she let herself in, she hurried up the stairs to her third story master suite and peeled off her sweaty clothes and took a quick shower. Tom should be there within the hour to take her out to dinner. He wanted to do something special since they hadn’t seen each other all week. And because of that, she hadn’t argued with him. She wanted to make him happy. Guilt made her agreeable.

As she put on the finishing touches to her makeup, her phone rang. She glanced down at the display. The number was local yet unfamiliar, so she didn’t answer it and went back to her makeup. But a couple minutes later, the voicemail notification popped up. Curiosity got the better of her and she pressed play.

“Mia, it’s Tom. I’m calling from Lizzie’s phone. Marc left. Everything is gone from his place. I hope you don’t mind, but I need to cancel tonight. Lizzie’s a mess. I’ll call you later. Love you.”

Mia slid to the floor and played the message again, listening to Tom, hearing his worry for Marc and his heartache for Lizzie. She knew where Marc was, but he’d sworn her to secrecy. And not being able to tell Tom made her feel awful.

She sat there, staring ahead at the mirrored reflection of herself, her mind completely shut off. She didn’t want to think about this anymore. None of it. But then a thought kept tickling the front of her mind to the point of extreme discomfort.

What the hell was she doing? She’d fucked this all up. Every single thing.

She used sex with Tom, alcohol, and drugs to drown out her pain. It didn’t seem to get better though. Things just seemed to get worse.

She felt guilty about her relationship with Tom. If she searched deep, Mia knew she really was just using him, despite having feelings for him. And he meant too much to her to keep allowing that to happen.

More guilt. More pain.

Then there was Ethan. Even though they were no longer together, she felt like she was cheating on him. Maybe it was because she should never have broken things off with him in the first place.