48. Mia
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
mia
Preston is waiting for me when I step out of Lily’s room. I close the door quietly and meet him in the corridor, the door to my room open and inviting, unlike his face.
“Something wrong?”
He hands me my phone. I’d forgotten I left it downstairs. “Trouble called you. Care to explain?”
I grab hold of his arm and bring us inside my bedroom, locking the door for a sense of control that doesn’t really follow me in.
“I’m being a caveman, Mia. I know it. But I can’t help but feel fucking territorial after today. You have no obligation to—”
“That was Bobby calling.” I pause to swallow.
“My brother.” I watch as the new intel softens the rage in his green eyes, but confusion lingers and prompts me into talking.
“It’s a bad joke. A sad one, to be honest. He barely calls since I left home, only if he needs saving.
So I figured… may as well label him honestly.
” I don’t know when I started staring at my socked feet, only that I am.
“He’s turned into… the problem I can’t fix. ”
Preston lifts my chin with two of his fingers, and tears brew instantly. “The brother you raised?” He takes my hand and guides me to my bed. We sit side by side, facing each other.
“Oops. There goes my résumé,” I jest, hoping a little humor will lighten the mood, but judging by Preston’s expression, I’m far from funny. I don’t think my watery eyes are helping. His hands caress my scalp, and he kisses my forehead.
“What happened?”
“He was such a sweet kid. I swear. But our odds just… weren’t the best. Dad was a drunk.
Mum left when I was eleven. He was only four.
He doesn’t remember her, but he felt every bit of her absence.
How much drunker Dad got before he hit rock bottom and turned his life around.
Or at least he tried to.” Preston wipes every tear before they can reach my cheeks, and somehow that makes the words come more easily.
“I got lucky. Had a teacher who helped me all the way to college. My way out was through studies. His was through drug dealers when he turned twelve. I was already in London, on a scholarship. Bobby was out of my sight, and I missed what was going on until it was too late.”
“That’s not your fault,” he says, so stern it’s almost believable.
“I’ve been playing that record for years. Still can’t bring myself to buy it. But thanks for saying so, anyway.”
Preston pulls me to sit on his lap, and defying physics, I fit there. It feels… right. Safe. I wrap my legs and arms around him and let myself collapse into him, words and all.
“I paid for so many rehabs. Skipped classes and called in sick at work to bail him out even more times. I love him, and I hate him.” I sob into Pres’s shoulder.
“I blame him, and I blame me.” One arm tightens around my back while his other hand cradles the nape of my neck.
“At the end of the day, he’s part of me, and I’ll never let him go.
I’ll pick up every time that phone rings. ”
“That’s fine, baby. Call him back.” He draws back enough to leave a little space between us and push the phone into my hand.
“But change his name back to Bobby. ‘Trouble’ is taken now. And I refuse to share it with the man who makes you think something bad is about to land. You’re allowed to carry him in your heart, Mia.
But he can’t cost you your joy. You don’t owe anyone that.
” Then he kisses my forehead, nose, and dries my wet cheeks.
So protective. Possessive, too. I feel safe and unashamed.
I call Bobby back three times, but he doesn’t answer.
“I’ll redefine that word for you, even if it’s the last thing I do, you hear me?” he says, cupping my face.
I grin through fresh tears, this time because I believe him. I don’t think this wholehearted man is physically or morally capable of breaking a promise.
“Yeah, that’s the smile I want to see on your face when you hear me calling you Trouble. Knowing how much you changed me, my life, my home. You’re the Trouble most people hope for, and I’m the lucky bastard holding you in my arms.”
I push him down on my bed and kiss him, slow, full of intention.
Hoping my lips and tongue can convey the hurricane of feelings in my chest and do his words justice.
But I need him to stop. I’ll melt if he keeps talking.
Maybe propose too. I can’t be held accountable for my actions if this man keeps sweet-talking to me like that; it’s simply not fair.
The image of the air mattress by Lily’s bed flashes in my brain, and I lift my upper body. “We need to discuss sleeping arrangements.”
“We do?”
“Yes. Mrs. Romano left an air mattress in Lily's room. Do you want to take it, or should I?”
“I’m sleeping right here”—his hand pats my bed—“with my girlfriend. I’ve already set the alarm for 5 a.m. and turned the baby cam on.” He pulls the monitor from his back pocket and shows me a peaceful Lily sleeping with her mouth open.
My head tilts sideways, suddenly too heavy with this new information. “Your what, now?”
“My girlfriend. It’s too late for you to unpack that now, but it is what it is. You’re mine, Mia. And I don’t share. That makes you my girlfriend. If you want to pretend that’s not true for a bit, knock yourself out. I’m too old to fake casual.”
That’s the kind of thing women highlight on their Kindles and never emotionally recover from. It’s me. I’m women.
Pres slips from under me. I’m too stunned to hold him down for further questioning. He pulls the cover and invites me to lie in my bed. Fine, it’s his house, but this is still my space. I nestle at his side, facing him.
“There’s no way I’m not sleeping with you in my arms tonight, Mia. Now strip and behave.”
“That sounds a little contradictory,” I say, peeling everything off but my panties.
“Not really. I just want you naked for when I wake up hard and ready in the middle of the night.”
“Pres,” I look up, worried, “Lily can’t know. No one can know.” I hook my fingers under the hem of his T-shirt and lift. He takes over, dragging it up and over his head.
His eyes soften in a way that looks suspiciously like gratitude. “Thank you for saying that. I know. I agree.” He tips his forehead to mine. “It doesn’t make you any less mine, though.”
I smile at the sound of that. He kisses me goodnight and strips till he’s down to his boxers. I bat my eyelashes once and fall asleep. To call this day intense would be the understatement of the year. I feel a hundred years older and a million pounds lighter.
I feel better than ever.