Chapter Twenty-Eight #2
“You men are all the same, convinced you don’t need to be cared for just as much as you need to take care of others.
My ex-husband, he was caring once. But he got bitter, as you know.
Eventually he put up so many walls around himself, convincing himself that’s what great men do, but do you know what? Great men are usually total shits.”
I splutter my tea, my eyes widening.
“I’m serious,” she continues. “I have a theory that every great man that ever was, was a massive shithead. I bet they were all terrible partners and lovers.”
Good God, did she just say the word lover?
“And of course, they were most likely absent fathers, the lot of them. They’re too driven to be the best at absolutely everything except the things that actually matter.
No one goes down in the history books as the most attentive father or the most loving husband.
And yet, why would anyone want to be with someone who isn’t those things?
Sure, life happens sometimes, and no day is perfect.
But what is the point of it all if you don’t have someone to share it with? ”
“I—I don’t know.”
“Don’t you?” She stares for a beat. “Because I think you’re on the cusp of being a great man, Dr. Adams. It’s for you to decide whether to re-prioritize.”
Re-prioritize.
Is it that simple? That easy?
Just change my mind about everything I’ve believed for the last thirty-four years?
All the values my father taught me, I learned from not wanting to be like him.
But maybe I’ve had it wrong the whole time.
I shouldn’t have been running from a relationship and a family.
I should have been running to it. Running to Mia.
My heart starts to thump wildly in my chest, beating like the beginning of a battle scene.
The adrenaline courses through me, and I just want to find a horse and gallop toward her.
“You might put me out of a job, you know,” I say.
Her eyes light up, and I don’t know why I doubted myself. She’s truly happy. Sat here, in her own home with her own gaudy couch, which she adores, she’s completely at ease.
When did I last feel like that? The answer is easy, and it makes my heart ache with guilt and frustration.
I need Mia as much as I need to breathe.
She’s imprinted herself on my life in every way, and I’ve pushed her out of it like she was nothing.
And worse still, I’ve done exactly what that bastard did to her all those years ago.
I’ve made her feel worthless, like she was nothing.
Abandoning her at her celebration dinner is bad enough, but God knows what I said to her when she came to check on me.
She wouldn’t have left without a fight—I know that for sure.
I must have been truly awful to push her away enough to make her actually leave.
All her things were gone when I went to the bedroom to get ready to shower. Her clothes, her toiletries, the lavender-scented perfume she wears, even the lacy lingerie she’d bought. All disappeared, with only an empty drawer with the two balaclavas remaining to signify she was ever there.
Caleb and Andrew saunter back into the house, Andrew seeming to be talking his ear off about the benefits of using local manure rather than the big brand stuff. Caleb indulges him with a polite smile but arches his big frame away from the man.
“Time to go,” I say, and the relief in Caleb’s eyes is almost comical.
“Thank you for checking in on me, dear.” Helen pats my hand. “I’ll let you know if I need to talk through Trevor’s death. Although I think I’m okay for now.”
I nod. “Good. My door is always open for you.”
◆◆◆
I try to call Mia another three times, but with each one the rings get less and less until eventually the call goes straight to voicemail.
By Sunday night, I’m beside myself. There’s been no movement in the house, and I’m starting to think she’s run.
The last time she dealt with something so life-altering, she left home and never looked back, only returning when absolutely necessary.
What reason would she have to return here if she decided to leave?
None. She certainly wouldn’t come back for me.
I call Angela, her mother. “Dr. Adams, well I live and breathe. What are you doing calling me?”
“Hi, Mrs. Sinclair. Have you heard from Mia? We had an argument, and I haven’t heard from her.”
“Uh huh, my daughter is like that, Dr. Adams. If she wants to talk to you, she knows where to find you,” she snipes.
“Can you just let me know she’s safe? Please? I’m not averse to begging.”
“Maybe you should have thought about that before you did whatever you did. I don’t think you’re going to be able to buy your way out of this one, young man.”
Mia must have told her about the house.
Jesus, she’s brutal. It’s the punishment I deserve, but it still cuts.
“May I suggest that the next time you want to play around with someone as fragile as my Mia, you think twice—"
“I haven’t been playing around. I care very deeply about her.”
“Have you heard yourself? You care about her? Huh? That's all? ‘Cause from where I’m sitting, that sounds like a shitty offer for what she’s giving you. Goodbye, Alfie.”
She hangs up without confirming she’s spoken to Mia, but from her cutting tone, I’d say it was a safe bet that she had.
For now, I just have to wait and pray that Mia wants to talk to me soon.