Chapter 13 Mia
Mia
If you’d asked Mia Robinson what she’d be doing three days before Christmas, she never would have thought to say baking with Sam Williams. But here she is, watching Sam whisk up an enormous batch of royal icing, and trying her best not to openly admire his forearms. She busies herself with laying out the biscuits, sprinkles and other decorations.
‘So, you’ve obviously become a wonderful cook over the last few years, and a baker as well. What other superpowers have you acquired since I last saw you?’ Sam’s tone is carefully nonchalant, as if he’s acutely aware of the tenuous truce they seem to have stumbled into.
Mia could make it all come crashing down, if she had a mind to.
A sharply worded retort or a scathing reminder of why Sam’s presence isn’t warranted would do the trick.
But she can’t quite bring herself to do it.
She’s had a lovely day and although it pains her to admit it, Sam’s been a part of that enjoyment.
She decides to embrace the comfort they’ve so newly discovered.
‘Well, I recently became the proud owner of my first houseplant.’
‘Do tell,’ Sam says. Mia spoons out a portion of the icing for him and they both set to decorating.
‘Yes, well, it wasn’t so much a decision to become a plant owner, as a plant chose me. There was a stall at this market I was visiting full of plants and I was briefly body snatched by someone who loves plants. Next thing I knew, I had bought three.’
‘Wait,’ Sam says, spoon held aloft as he thinks. ‘I thought you said you just acquired your first plant. Not first three plants.’
‘A very astute observation. One met a terrible demise on the tube home. I know we don’t speak ill of the dead, but I kind of feel like this plant threw itself into harm’s way. As if the very notion of coming home with me made it want to kill itself.’
Sam barks out a laugh. ‘You can’t be that bad a plant mum.’
Mia raises an eyebrow. ‘You have no idea. And then, the second one … well, let’s just say that I was overly aggressive in my watering strategy. It succumbed to the Great Flood of ’24.’
‘But you still have one.’
‘Yes! I do. Thankfully for me, it’s some kind of fern that loves water. And it’s thriving, if I do say so myself.’
‘Congratulations,’ Sam offers sincerely.
Mia pauses to watch him decorate his biscuit.
He’s scowling at the cutout as he attempts to glue sweets on to the gingerbread man’s icing waistcoat.
The scowl is surprisingly endearing, and an errant lock of hair has fallen over his forehead.
Mia has the strangest urge to reach out and brush it back into place.
‘I myself am the proud owner of a goldfish,’ Sam offers.
‘But my roommate really takes the cake. He owns four giant lizards.’
‘You’re kidding.’
‘I’m not, actually. I forget the species, but they’re the size of a small dog. A medium-sized dog, in fact.’
‘How did you meet this guy?’
‘Well, he posted an ad for a roommate. There wasn’t a lot of interest, so he offered to knock a hundred pounds off the monthly rent and I took him up on it.’
‘The lizards don’t bother you?’
‘Not as long as they’re caged.’
This makes Mia snicker, and she sets down her icing knife for a moment while she tries to picture the scenario Sam has described. ‘Do you think that comes up when he goes on dates?’
Sam laughs. ‘How exactly would that go? Hey, lady with whom I am having a first date. What are your thoughts on giant lizards that require cages half the size of my bedroom?’
Mia laughs so hard that her hand shakes, dripping icing on to the counter and all over another uniced biscuit. ‘Oh no, look what you made me do. This one’s ruined!’
‘Only one way to salvage it,’ Sam declares, scooping up the biscuit and launching it into his mouth, his cheeks bulging as he tries to chew.
‘The only way, hmm?’ Mia tries to sound sceptical, but she’s still laughing too hard.
Sam has to swallow multiple times before he can respond. ‘Yep. I don’t know, though. The dating scene is hard enough without bringing lizards into it.’
‘Tell me about it,’ Mia says, thinking of James. ‘Seems like every other day you’re bombing a date or getting ghosted.’
‘All well and good as long as you’re not the one doing the ghosting,’ Sam says quietly.
There’s an awkward pause, and Mia looks up at Sam who seems to be avoiding her gaze.
Something close to regret coils in her chest as she thinks over his words, and before she can stop herself, she says, ‘It happened to me recently.’ She’s surprised to find herself admitting it, but keeps going.
‘I dated a guy for two months and then he up and vanished. Haven’t heard a word from him in over a week. ’
Sam looks at her with serious eyes. ‘He can do one.’
‘Sorry?’ Mia’s too startled to say anything else at Sam’s uncharacteristic vehemence.
‘If he’s too dumb to know what he’s got, then it’s his loss. Don’t give him another second’s thought. He’s not worth it.’
Touched, Mia drops her gaze back to her biscuit creations.
For a long moment, there’s no other sound in the kitchen besides the quiet scrape of the knives against the bowls full of icing and the pleasing clink of sprinkles in their containers.
Mia’s mind wanders in the silence, and she suddenly realizes John has disappeared.
Maybe he slipped out a while ago without her noticing.
She’s been having such a nice afternoon, and all the sugar and laughter is making her feel mellow.
‘Do you still do photography?’ Mia asks, eventually breaking the silence. ‘Didn’t you win an award for your photos in school?’
‘Mm, not any more,’ Sam responds. ‘It was fun, but a trip to Italy ruined me for photos here. The light there was just so magical. I wasn’t happy with any of my photos once I came back.
’ He shrugs, as if this was no great loss.
‘But I still write poetry. I’m always chewing on some sort of wordplay in my head.
’ He grins at her. ‘If you see me staring off into the distance, I’m probably wondering if the words I’ve strung together make any sense at all. ’
‘Maybe you can show me sometime.’
Sam starts to respond, but there’s a clatter in the hall. ‘Tally-ho! We’re home!’ Martin’s voice booms down the hallway. ‘Where is my chicken?’
Mia giggles and pulls the carefully preserved plate from the fridge. ‘Heating it up right now, Dad!’
‘That’s my girl.’ Martin strides into the kitchen, tossing his coat on to the back of a chair. ‘How’s things here, have you had a fun afternoon?’
‘Very much so,’ Mia says as she heats the chicken on the stovetop. Then, under her breath, she admits, ‘Surprisingly so.’ It had felt like time spent with a very good friend.
‘Earl says the thing he’ll miss most about living in England is the cricket matches.’ Martin turns to Sam and asks, ‘Do you follow cricket, Sam?’
‘Can’t say that I do,’ Sam replies. ‘I’ve always been more into tennis than anything else.’
‘Do you still play?’ Mia asks curiously, before she can think better of it. Visions of a shirtless Sam dousing himself with water after a heated match fill her head and she grimaces, trying her best to drive them out.
‘Occasionally,’ Sam responds. ‘And I did try cricket a few years ago. I was fairly good at it, if I do say so myself.’
‘You must be naturally athletic,’ Martin observes.
Mia’s mind wanders even further, thinking of …
other athletic activities Sam might be good at that don’t require much clothing.
An image of Sam leaning over her, shirtless, as she lay on his bed surfaces, his shoulders flexing as he held himself up.
She hasn’t let herself remember that evening in this much detail in a long time, but now she can’t seem to stop herself as she remembers his natural grace and athleticism, the ease with which he’d moved her.
There was that one move in particular, when he’d picked her up and held her against the wall with just his core and lower body strength so his hands had been free to roam across her body.
Mia feels her breath quicken slightly as she remembers how turned on she’d been, to the point where Sam had needed to pause for a minute so she could catch her breath. Could he still do that move?
The clatter of Martin’s cutlery pulls Mia back to the present, and suddenly horrified by her lack of willpower, she mentally backtracks.
Instead of thinking of a sweaty, shirtless Sam, Mia does her best to imagine him playing cricket.
‘There’s nothing sexy about that sport,’ she mutters under her breath.
‘What’s that, Mia bella?’ Martin asks, scraping the last of the chicken off his plate and into his mouth.
Mia glances at Sam, who’s watching her curiously. ‘Nothing. I was just thinking about cricket. When does the season start next year? We should go to a game. It’s mostly older, out-of-shape men that play, isn’t it?’
Both men look at her with blank expressions. As she replays in her mind what she’s just said, Mia shakes her head. What is happening to her?
‘I think there are probably all levels of fitness represented,’ Sam cautiously volunteers.
‘True. I’m sure some are studs. But the season hasn’t even started yet,’ Mia chirps.
‘I’ll make a note to call in the spring.
’ Martin just gapes at her as if she’s lost her mind, and Sam looks equally intrigued and amused.
Mia squares her shoulders and tries to steer the conversation towards something that won’t remind her of her times with Sam.
‘Dad, when did we last clean out the bathtub drain?’