31. Chapter Thirty-One
Mia
I had written him an album. Well, that wasn’t completely true. The first few songs were more about my childhood, or lack of it, and my relationship with my mother. Grady had called the album an awakening. By the end, the songs were filled with so much hope and love and joy, I’d wanted to scream the lyrics from the rooftops. I’d never felt so sure of what I wanted and needed.
When I’d asked Grady to deliver the files to Tyler, I’d considered penning another epic letter to accompany it. But I didn’t think I could have expressed myself more clearly than I had in my music. I laid my true self bare to him, and when the album released in a couple of months, I’d be exposed to the world.
Maybe not wise. People were mean. Honesty wasn’t easy. For the first time, my fans would be getting me unfiltered, without my mother leaning over my shoulder whispering, what will people think? as though other peoples’ opinions were the most important to consider. I’d let the weight of those words sink my conviction, my gut feeling about what was right, and those words had almost cost me Tyler and Victoria.
Tyler.
The beauty of Tyler, as I’d come to realize the last few months without him, was his ability to adapt. From the minute I’d walked into his shop almost a year ago, he’d steered through every intersection and curve in my mood as though he’d been given a map to my soul. The video he posted after listening to the album only solidified my feelings, not that I needed confirmation.
My love for him was a steel rod through my body, unbreakable, unbendable, propping me up during my toughest moments. The power of unconditional love had surprised me. Even though we hadn’t been together, at every turn, I’d known he was out in the world cheering for me. I never doubted his commitment, even as I’d been trying to figure out if I was capable of returning it.
In the video he posted about the album, he’d taken notes— notes on my songs —and he understood all the nuances, things I never thought anyone would get, about the songs, about me. As much as writing the lyrics had been cathartic, listening to him pull them apart and realizing he saw me and still loved me was a gift I never anticipated. At the end of his video, he held Victoria up to his camera and said they’d be waiting when I was ready to come home.
Home.
I owned a lot of houses, but I’d never had a home until him, until them . Each therapy session had gotten me closer and closer to feeling capable, worthy, of what he was offering. Five months of tearing myself apart and stitching myself together had led me here—to Little Falls, to my family.
Pasha nudged my arm from the driver’s seat, and I tore my gaze from the snowy front door of Tyler’s store. I hadn’t told Tyler I was coming, but it was four days before Christmas, and today was his birthday.
“Ready?” Pasha asked, his accent still thick, but his English had improved tenfold with all of the time he’d spent as my favorite bodyguard. Someday, I hoped I’d see him happy, instead of brooding and stoic .
“There’s no such thing as perfect,” I reminded myself as I twisted the rings on my fingers. Whenever I got anxious in therapy about being a good partner to Tyler or a good parent to Victoria, those words were my lifeline. “If I screw up, I own it, and we figure out how to move forward.”
Beside me, Pasha said nothing. Own it . Laura had forgotten that step every time she’d screwed up. Who was to blame? Anyone and everyone but her.
We’d met in one therapy session to disastrous results. Among other things, my mother had said I needed to grow a thicker skin, and if I thought I was the only woman who’d ever been wronged by a man, Laura could fill me in on just how bad it could be. My head had spun at the lunacy, the self-centered importance. The trial, the women’s march, my support group, even some of the songs on the album were rooted in too many women having gone through the things I had suffered.
I knew I wasn’t special, but it had taken that moment to make me realize our mother-daughter bond lived in the dirt of conflict and competition. Nothing could grow there. That dirt was filled with toxins. Before Tyler, before therapy, deep down I would have thought my mother knew best, and I’d have grown a thicker skin, sealed my emotions tighter. Not anymore.
I didn’t want to wilt. I wanted to bloom.
“Do you think anyone else is in there?” I slid a ring off my index finger and pushed it back on. Anxiety zipped through at the realization I hadn’t talked to Tyler for months. Months. What had he told me about love? Untended, it withered and died.
“We here fifteen minutes. No customers.” He glanced at his phone. “Gerald says they alone. ”
“I should just go in, right? He’ll be happy to see me, right?” I heaped my hair onto my shoulder and toyed with the ends. “What if he’s not happy to see me?”
“Only question right now. Are you ready?”
Before we’d arrived in the parking lot, I’d been sure surprising him was the best idea. Happy Birthday! Merry Christmas! We could be each other’s presents.
Faced with entering the building, I was second-guessing my impulsiveness. I’d left him and his love untended, and while leaving had felt as necessary as returning did now, I couldn’t open my door.
“I’m ready,” I said. “But what if he’s angry with me for being gone this long?” He hadn’t given me any indication he felt that way, but I couldn’t imagine not being angry if our roles were reversed.
“Own it. Move forward.” His lips twitched, and he patted my leg. “You need space. He give you. You think he angry.” He placed his hand over his heart. “I think he heartbroken, and you,” he tried to catch my gaze, “coming back can mend together.”
“You think he’ll forgive me?”
“It me? Nothing to forgive. Confused. Need time. Come back. All’s well.”
All’s well . I wanted to believe it could be that simple. If I never went in, I’d never know, and I’d spent all these months yearning to be here. I took a deep breath and released it slowly. “I’m going in.”
“Want me to come?”
“No.” A chuckle escaped. “If you could get Gerald to make himself disappear, that’d be awesome too. No need for anyone else to witness this potential disaster. ”
Once I was out of the car, I brushed my hands down my skirt, and it swished around my thighs. Maybe I should have worn something warmer, but it was too late now. I opened the door, and the doorbell above signaled my arrival. From the racks of clothes near the back, I could just spot the top of Tyler’s head. Normally when he wasn’t busy, he’d be in the back stitching together some masterpiece. Not today.
My heart thumped, and my palms became slick with sweat.
“Be with you in a minute,” his deep tenor called out.
His voice, in person. Oh, God, I loved that sound. my stomach dipped. I was really here. I took another deep, steadying breath, but I didn’t call back to him. In my head, we would have locked eyes from the moment I entered, but of course, reality never went quite as expected.
When he rounded the rack of clothes, an ugly checkered shirt clutched in his hand, he glanced in my direction and did a double take before stumbling slightly. His hand went to the back of his neck as he righted himself, and he stared.
“Oh, wow. Mia.” My name was a rough almost whisper. “You’re here.” The reverence with which he said it made my stomach clench, and the way his shoulders rose as though I’d lifted a weight off him made my heart ache.
“Surprise,” I said, afraid I looked as stunned as him. He’d missed me, and I breathed a sigh of relief he wasn’t hiding his feelings.
The glib videos he’d posted had been a front. Maybe he’d been as miserable as me. The videos had been a blessing and a curse. I’d missed him as though I’d cut off a limb, but seeing him happy and joking had sliced into my sadness, causing it to ooze everywhere. Sometimes, I’d wondered if he was happier without me .
A few times my fingers had hovered over the comment icon. Did I dare ask?
I didn’t have to wonder anymore. The old familiar tension hummed in the air, a shock to my system. The air was alive. To love someone and to have it so clearly returned was a revelation.
“Happy birthday, Pretty Boy.”
He closed the distance between us until there were only a couple of feet separating us. “Are you…” He scanned me from head to toe, longing settling over his face. “Are you my present?” His voice was hoarse.
“Would you like that?” Goose bumps rose on my arms, and I clenched my thighs at the lick of desire.
A deep chuckle emerged from his chest, and his hand smoothed my hair before drawing me closer. “For the first time in my life, I don’t mind if my birthday and Christmas present are the same. You’re the…best…” He kissed my forehead. “Present.” He pressed his lips to my temple. “Ever.” He buried his head in my neck and breathed me in. “I can’t believe you’re here.”
“Where’s Victoria?” I whispered, clutching onto his broad back.
“My mom has her.” He kept his head buried in my neck, his hands running along my body as though he was trying to remember every curve. “Gerald knew you were coming to New York State, so we keep Victoria under lock and key in case the press swarms.” A chuckle rumbled through him. “I guess they’ve given up.”
“But you didn’t?” I toyed with the tips of his hair, and the scent of jasmine surrounded us. No matter how many jasmine-scented things I bought, none of them quite smelled like him .
“You gave me enough to keep hope alive—the letter, the album, your speech at the women’s march where you said meeting me had changed your life.” His lips brushed against my shoulder.
“You’re not mad at me?”
His shoulders tensed under my fingers, and he emerged from my neck to press his forehead to mine.
“Never to each other,” I whispered, afraid he wouldn’t tell me the truth. We had a lot to talk about, but this question was the one weighing heaviest on my mind.
“Mad isn’t the right word.” He sighed and pressed his lips to my forehead. “I knew you needed to figure everything out. Was it hard? Yeah. Incredibly hard sometimes to not be part of the process. Did I wish you could have done it differently? Yep.” He gave me a small smile. “But I knew if you came back, you’d be here to stay. I was never mad, Mia. You never lied to me. There was work to be done for you to be sure about what you wanted, and you did the work. Quite frankly, watching you give that speech at the march, reading your testimony at the trial. It was—I don’t think I’ve ever been prouder of anyone. You’ve turned yourself into a beacon of hope for other women. You’re incredible.”
“Really?”
“I wish you could see yourself like I see you. The girl I met last October doesn’t exist anymore. You’ve become a force in the world, and not just for your music, but for your principles and conviction and your desire to help other women. Victoria is going to see the things you’ve done, and she’ll be in awe of what a strong mom she has.”
His words settled, and they meant more than I’d ever be able to tell him. My moments of pride in my mother were few and far between. In that final meeting with Kenny, maybe. But then I’d discovered she’d worked alongside Kenny to rob me of choices. Any pride I felt had been squashed.
To realize my daughter might examine something I’d done and think with pride, That’s my mom , was almost more than I could comprehend.
“I don’t have all the answers yet,” I admitted. “But I want to work on the rest of them with you and her as a family.” The word was foreign on my lips. Before Tyler, the closest I’d come was my grandmother, but our connection had been complicated by my mother’s resentment and my father’s abandonment. “Can we go get her and go home?”
He pressed his lips to mine, and I relaxed into him, tugging him closer, threading my fingers through his short strands. When we broke apart, he slipped his hand into mine, leading me toward the door.
“Last time I talked to Grady, he said you were still deciding on an album title. Did you pick one yet?”
“Yeah, we did.” A smile broke out across my face. We’d settled on the name of the last song on the album, the one I’d written about Tyler. “Mending Hearts. We’ve called the album Mending Hearts.”
His eyes softened, and it was clear he understood I’d named it after him, after his ability to stitch together things that seemed beyond repair.
“I love it,” he said and kissed my temple. “We touring?”
I bit my lip and walked through the front door he held open. Pasha stood outside the car, a smile on his face. “A tour has to be scheduled so far in advance,” I said. “And I wasn’t sure how you’d feel…but I went ahead and booked a few venues. Are you up for it? I can cancel.”
“All I need is you and Victoria.” He squeezed my hand. “Wherever that is, that’s where I’ll be. On a tour bus, in a hotel, in a house, it doesn’t matter. If I’ve got the two of you, I’ve got everything I need. You want to tour? We’ ll figure it out.”
My heart swelled and threatened to burst from my chest. How had I ever thought I’d be able to resist him? Why had I even bothered to try? “I won the life partner lottery.”
“They have one of those? I’ll have to sign up next time.” His lips twitched in amusement.
“Next time?” I smacked his arm and laughed.
He stopped a few feet from Pasha and framed my face. “Nah,” he said. “You’re it for me. This time, next time, every time.” His lips grazed mine in the sweetest, tenderest kiss that made my insides turn to goo.
Pasha cleared his throat and opened the rear door. “I tell Gerald I drive you both home. He meet us there with car and baby.”
On impulse, I released Tyler and latched onto Pasha’s waist to hug him. Logistics weren’t always my strong point, and he never let me down. “Thank you.”
“Happy?” Pasha murmured.
“The happiest,” I sighed. “Take me home, Pasha. I finally understand what that means.”