Theo
Sunday Night
I started singing and Mia begged me to stop.
Sticking her fingers in her ears, she said, “Oh god, you are horrible. How can someone with such a growly voice sound this bad?”
I grinned, put my mouth to her ear, and sang again. She screeched, whirled in her seat, and pushed my chest. I pulled away and laughed.
“You weren’t kidding about those singing lessons. You really can’t sing for shit,” she muttered, picking up her pen.
At seeing the slight smile on her lips, I started humming instead.
Dusk turned to night as I read out my last square, then threw back my final shot. It burned on the way down as Mia, already finished with hers, drew up a new set of bingo squares for next week.
Feeling warm and a little too comfortable, I pressed my shoulder into hers and read the two squares she’d already filled in.
“You wrote ‘Don’t make out with Theo’ and ‘Keep it in your big boy pants’?”
“Well, obviously,” she said, her voice soft and rounded. “If I can get through this next week without pulling off your trousers, I deserve a drink.”
I hooked a hand under her chair and dragged her closer to me. This game was fun. And it was very Mia.
I couldn’t remember the last time I had fun with someone like this. I couldn’t remember the last time I wanted something like this. She wasn’t just a fantasy to look at–she was a fantasy to be with. Maybe that was why I couldn’t let her leave. I didn’t know if I could ever get enough of her.
“I don’t want to think about you fully clothed,” I drawled, eyeing the empty shot glass in front of me. “Too depressing.”
She laughed, then nudged my elbow. “I’m glad you wanted to bump uglies this weekend.”
I ducked my head to make her look at me. “Hey, there’s nothing ugly about your bumps. I don’t know how I’m going to get through tomorrow without them.”
Her expression dropped into mock sincerity. “That might be the most romantic thing anyone’s ever said to me.”
I hiccupped out a laugh. “Now I know you’re drunk.”
She snorted. “So are you. That stuff was strong. Next time I play this game, I’m replacing the booze with snacky-snacks.”
“Snacky-snacks are good,” I agreed, looking down at her card. “‘Drink whenever Theo scowls at me’. Mia.”
She pointed her pen between my brows, said, “Oh look, I got one already,” and crossed out the square.
I laughed. When was the last time I’d laughed this much? I loved this. I loved being around her. I didn’t want this to end.
“I should spank you for that.”
She looked up from her card. “You know that wouldn’t be much of a punishment. I’d like it too much.”
Fuck, I’d love to spank her.
I was already rock-hard. But I knew better than to pull her across my lap. She almost ran out on me earlier, and I promised her a night without sex.
But I could kiss her.
I lifted her chin and pressed my lips to hers. She came willingly, dropping her card to run a hand through my hair. She tasted like gin, warm and sweet. She tasted like everything I needed.
Nipping my bottom lip, she pulled me closer. Her tongue slid against mine as I cupped the back of her neck, feeling the pulse of her throat under my thumb. She slid her hand down until she reached the waistband of my shorts, and I groaned, took her hand, and held it.
“You don’t have to.”
“I want to,” she whispered.
“We’re both drunk. I don’t want you to regret it.”
Her smile was soft. “I won’t. It’s hard to regret something this good.”
She was right. This was good. Whatever this thing between us was, it was the best I’d ever had.
“Mia, I don’t want this to be it.”
Her smile faded.
“It has to be. At least… maybe until Kira graduates, if we talk to her first–
She stopped and shook her head. “No, that’s not what you meant, is it? You just want sex. Maybe–”
“I don’t just want sex, Mia,” I snapped, and regretted it. My tone was too sharp, and she responded the same way she always did.
Jerking her hand out of mine, she practically breathed fire at me. “What else could you want then? You don’t even like me. According to you, I’m too sarcastic, I’m infuriating, I’m a bad teach–”
“I want you,” I yelled, and Mia’s mouth snapped shut. “Because you’re more than all that. You’re funny and smart and so fucking considerate. You make me feel things I’ve never felt before, and it scares the shit out of me because I have Kira. But that doesn’t mean–”
I cut off as my phone vibrated. Tipping it toward me, I sobered as my sister’s name flashed across the screen. “It’s Rochelle. I have to take this.”
Mia seemed a little stunned but slid a finger across her lips and mimed throwing a key away.
“Hey,” I answered, trying to sound calm. “Everything all right?”
“She’s having a panic attack,” Rochelle burst, and I was on my feet in an instant, my chair knocking back with a thud.
Mia looked up at me with wide eyes as I spoke into the phone. “You’re sure it’s a panic attack?”
“Of course I’m fucking sure! What do I do? Tell me what to do.”
“Calm down, Rochelle. Get her to slow her breathing.”
“How?”
“Breathe with her. Get her to count to ten. Then make her point out five things she can see in the room.”
Mia tapped my arm, and that was when I realized I’d been pacing. I was in a panic. I needed to get out of here–to get to my daughter.
“Ask Rochelle to put on Kira’s favorite song,” Mia whispered, and her voice was so low I almost didn’t hear her.
“Put Espresso on,” I ordered into the phone.
“And tell Rochelle to sing it with her,” Mia murmured.
“And sing it with her,” I repeated.
“Okay,” Rochelle agreed, and in the background, I heard the opening of Kira’s favorite pop song. “Now what?”
As if Mia could hear Rochelle, she said, “Get Kira to move her arms up and down.” She lifted her arms. “Like this.”
I repeated it to Rochelle, and relief slammed into me when she said, “It worked! Oh my god, it worked.”
But the feeling lasted for all of two seconds before I was barking into my phone. “What happened?”
“I don’t know,” Rochelle said. “She was fine. We were watching a movie, and something made her laugh. I told her it was good to see her happy like this, and then it just came out of nowhere.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose and tried to level out my breath. “I’m coming to get her.”
Rochelle was quiet for a beat before giving me a sad little, “Okay.”
I hung up and went straight for my front door, shrugging on my jacket and pushing my feet into shoes as Mia watched.
“Is she all right?” she asked, and I shook my head.
“I have to get her home.”
Gripping my keys, I looked up, and Mia was ready to go. Her bag was slung over her shoulder, her sandals already tied around her ankles.
Regret clawed its way up my windpipe.
“I’m sorry. I have to go.”
She put a hand on my arm. “Don’t be daft, you big grumpy dope. Of course you have to.”
I bent to kiss her, and hoped it wasn’t for the last time.
After seeing Mia safely back to her apartment, I felt wrong all the way to Rochelle’s place. She should’ve been with me.
But I tried to push the feeling down. I had to take care of my daughter.
Rochelle buzzed me in. When I stepped into the living room, Kira looked like a small, huddled ball nestled against my sister’s view of the New York skyline.
Her eyes were bloodshot, her cheeks puffy. She’d been crying. I sat next to her, careful not to jostle her as I rubbed small circles on her back.
Rochelle stood to the side, a glass of red wine in her hand, watching us.
“Hey,” I started gently. “You okay now?”
She gave me a small nod but kept her gaze on the ground in front of her. “It’s not Aunt Rochelle’s fault. It just happened.”
My lips pressed into a thin line. Panic attacks didn’t just happen. Something triggered them.
“I know it wasn’t your aunt’s fault.” I looked at Rochelle. “And I’m glad she was here to help you through it.”
Rochelle gave me a small, crooked smile, but there was no heart in it. She was shaken, and that was on me. I didn’t prepare her for this.
I turned back to Kira. “Do you want to talk about it?”
She shook her head. “It’s stupid.”
“Hey.” I had to pause to push out the edge in my tone. “Nothing about a panic attack is stupid.”
She glanced at me then, her eyes filling with tears.
“But it is stupid.” She shook her head as I wiped her cheeks with my sleeve. “I had a panic attack because Aunt Rochelle told me I looked happy.”
I rubbed her back as Rochelle handed her a tissue. My sister looked as confused as I felt.
Words tumbled out of Kira. “I’m happy here. I’m happy.”
I shook my head, at a loss. “That’s good. Isn’t it?”
She looked at me, tears streaming down her face, like she couldn’t believe I didn’t already know the answer.
“No. I’m happy without Mom.”
That hit hard. Like a stab to the gut.
My daughter was finally in a stable place–doing well in school, making friends, falling in love for the first time, growing close with her aunt. And the moment she was reminded of all the progress she’d made without her mom, she had a panic attack.
I could understand that. The guilt of finally being okay after losing the one person who had loved her more than she loved herself. It was the same guilt I should’ve felt after falling in love with Mia.
“I can’t be happy without Mom.” She dissolved into rough, heartbreaking sobs, and all I could do was hold her while she cried.