Chapter 13 Mia #2
Aiden is in his favorite Max Mara camel cashmere coat, snowflakes melting on his shoulders. He looks...wrecked. And still stupidly handsome. I hate that about him.
We all stare at each other for a moment.
“Let’s make a bed for you, Cris,” Katya mutters and then glares at Aiden. “You’re the asshole who just ruined our party.”
They both leave.
Aiden continues to stand by the door. I let him. He isn’t welcome here.
He watches me for a second, then tries a smile. "Happy New Year."
I scoff. "Why aren’t you at the Winter Gala or whatever ridiculous circus your parents throw? You know, the one with fifty people who used to look at me like I snuck in through the servant’s entrance?"
His smile fades. "I didn’t want to be there. I wanted to be with you."
“Why the fuck would you want to do that?”
He winces. It feels good to see him respond to my swearing.
Brace yourself, Mr. Winter, there are more four-lettered words on their way.
“I…was looking for you and finally I saw the lights up here and…I was hoping you’d be….”
He takes a deep breath and then, as if centering himself, closes the door behind him. He takes his coat off and hangs it on one of the coat hooks by the door.
“How are you?” He walks into the living room, and sits across from me on the love seat that Cristiano had been leaning against.
“Peachy. You?”
“I…I couldn’t find you. I didn’t know where you were and—"
"Congratulations. You found me,” I cut him off. “What do you want, Aiden?”
He licks his lips, and leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees.
He’s so beautiful, my husband. His dark, tousled hair. Those beautiful blue eyes. Cheekbones that can cut glass. Lips that kiss so wonderfully.
"I’m sorry, Mia. I know I’ve said it already, but—"
"You have," I interrupt him again. "And I’m sure it makes you feel better."
"I want to make it right. I need to."
"You need to?" I echo, leaning back. "Why?"
"Because I love you, Mia."
I just stare at him and let the words wash over me.
"Really?" I tilt my head. "And where was that love when you had your tongue stuck down whatshername’s throat?"
His eyes widen in shock for a moment, and then he regroups. I see it happen. He wasn’t expecting the bitch, he was expecting his wife. But after that scene on Christmas Eve, he should have known better.
“I…it was a mistake.”
“No, honey, the mistake was me letting you and your family disrespect me for years,” I flung at him. My words were laced with sarcasm.
“I know.” He runs his fingers through his hair. It’s a nervous gesture. “I know. I couldn’t see it then. I see it now and…I’m so fucking sorry.”
"Oh, well then," I sneer, "why don’t we just forgive and forget?"
He rises, and I know he wants to come to the other side of the coffee table, sit next to me, hold my feet as he talks to me, like he does, like I used to let him when we fought in the old days, when we were whole.
I hold up a hand. "That’s close enough. You may have caught a disease or two from her—or God knows who else you’ve been cozy with. What do I know?"
He freezes at that.
His eyes close for a beat.
When they open, I see it. Pain. Regret. Fear.
I should feel triumphant.
I feel nothing but the dull ache of grief. I don’t want to hurt him. I just want my own pain to stop.
"I’ve never crossed that line in our marriage," he says, his voice low.
"Except with her."
He nods, defeated. “It was only a kiss, Mia. And only that one time.”
“Convenient.”
“I swear to you.”
I make a face to let him know what I think of his statement.
“I…just give me a—"
“What?”
“A chance,” he shouts. “Damn it, Mia, eight years we’ve been together, you can’t let one damn kiss ruin us.”
It’s laugh or cry. I choose the former.
“I ruined us? What the hell are you smoking, Aiden? You are the one who chose to go to Paris with Diana on our wedding anniversary. Do you know that she was kind enough to post photos about your trip on Instagram? I don’t have any social media, but my colleagues do.
They all mentioned it. I wasn’t humiliated at all. ”
“I told you that was about an important meeting and….” He falters. “That was a complete fuck up on my part.”
Wow! Look at that. He went from defensive to accepting his mistake in the space of a sentence.
“You kissed her. You think there’s any coming back from that?”
“Yes.” His jaw is clenched.
He’s angry, not upset, I realize—and that hurts in a way I wasn’t prepared for.
How dare he come here in anger? How dare he stand in front of me like a man who’s only pretending to be sorry, when really, he’s furious with me?
For what? For leaving? For not accepting his too-late apology with grace and gratitude?
For not making it easy for him to feel better about himself?
His audacity burns in my chest like ice.
“Say I kiss a man…say it’s Huxley. I don’t tell you about it, but you find out. You’ll be okay with that?”
“You just spent days with…whoever that guy is.” He jerks his chin in the direction where Katya and Cristiano went.
My heart hurts at his words. He crushed me again. “You think that I was with him like that?”
The sadness in my voice jerks him out of whatever rage rollercoaster he’s on. “Fuck no! That’s not what I meant.”
“What did you mean, then?” I demand.
“I….” He shakes his head, swallows, and then looks me in the eye. “It was a dumb thing to say. I was just trying to make a case for you giving me a second chance.”
“By saying I did wrong and you did wrong, so it cancels out?”
He nods. “That was dumber than dumb. I know it. But, baby, I’m not thinking straight. I haven’t since—”
“Look, Aiden, I’ve spent time thinking about us, and I think you’re better suited to be with someone like Diana. She’ll wear the dumb designer clothes and flash expensive jewelry, and get along with your stuffy and absolutely immoral parents. I don’t want any of it. So…there’s no point, you know?”
He stiffens. “You don’t have to worry about my family.”
“But I do, Aiden. For years, I’ve tried to make nice with them. But I’m done.”
“With them but not me.” There’s a plea in his tone—just a tinge of it. “Give me a—"
The hell with this!
"You want a second chance?" I cut him off.
"God, yes!”
"Why?”
He looks thrown, like he didn’t expect me to question it. "Because…I love you."
I toss up my shoulders in a careless shrug. "I love you, too. What the fuck does that have to do with anything?"
A jolt of surprise flashes in his eyes. Every time I swear, it hits him. I like that.
"Mia—"
"If a second chance is what you want," I interrupt, "then prove to me that you deserve it."
He looks panicked. "How…how do I do that?"
I stare at him, dead in the eye. "If I have to tell you, Aiden, then you don’t deserve the damn chance."
Talk about a Catch-22. Joseph Heller would be proud.
I get up and turn my back to him as I walk to my new bedroom. “Lock up as you leave,” I say over my shoulder. “Oh, and Happy Fucking New Year, Aiden.”