Chapter 27: Too Sweet: Chapter 27

WORK, WORK, WORK.

It never bothered me that I work twenty-four-seven. If I’m not at the office, I visit my other businesses, deal with emergencies, or answer one call after the other.

Mia’s been mine for less than a month, but I’m already sick of work. I hadn’t realized I was filling a void buying cocktail bars and clubs and spending late evenings at the office. I never had a reason to rush home, but since Mia, that’s all I do.

Or try, at least, but as fate would have it, the past month has been a nightmare. Not an hour goes by without a phone call. Not a day without issues. Not one evening without something going down that requires my attention.

We were supposed to head to the movies tonight with Theo and Thalia, but a pipe burst in one of my cocktail bars half an hour before I picked Mia up. Instead of an evening with my girl, I spent four hours getting the mayhem under control.

“She’s asleep on the couch,” Aisha says when I arrive at half past nine. “She wasn’t feeling well.”

“Why? What’s wrong?” I cross the hallway, heading straight to the living room.

“Chill out,” she mutters, trailing behind me. “She’s on her period. Are you staying the night?”

I was going to take her back to my place, but Mia’s curled on the sofa, cuddling a pillow. “Looks like I am. Why?” I grab a blanket from the back of the couch, cover her up, and gently pull her into me, my chest replacing the pillow.

“No reason,” Aisha says, biting back a smile. I can tell there’s a solid reason she doesn’t want to share. “I’m heading out, that’s all. I’ll stay the night at Toby’s, so don’t expect me back.”

“Won’t miss you.”

“I have a feeling you might,” she chuckles, flinging a bag over her shoulder. “Have fun. Oh, and don’t think I forgot about the night out. We postponed it, but it’s happening in a couple of weeks.”

“As I said. Q, a bouncer, and I take Mia there and back.”

“We’ll see about that,” she chirps, already halfway down the hallway. “I have a plan.”

I bet she does.

Mia stirs, cuddling into me harder as if she feels my presence even asleep. She holds a hand across my chest, fisting the t-shirt, one leg bent at her knee and resting on my thighs.

I settle for a movie, ghosting my fingers up and down her arm and growing concerned over my mental health.

It can’t be normal that every muscle in my body tenses painfully whenever Mia’s not well. The fucked-up part of my character, the controlling, overprotective part, is harder to tame as the days go by… as my feelings morph from infatuation to something dangerously close to love.

Half the time, I fight my paranoia, assuring myself Mia doesn’t require constant supervision. That she won’t pull stupid stunts for attention, won’t encourage men to touch her.

My jaw clenches, and my temper flares. I derail that train of thought, focusing back on the movie.

Halfway through The Wolf of Wall Street, someone enters the house. Aisha left in heels, and whoever just entered isn’t click-clacking toward the living room.

My hold on Mia tightens while I listen to the footsteps and what sounds like something being dragged across the tiled floor. I’m ready to flip Mia over and beat the living shit out of whoever walked in, but five seconds later, I’m tense for a whole different reason.

Mia’s father stops at the mouth of the corridor, eyes on me, eyebrow raised, small suitcase in hand.

“Hey, Jimmy,” I say quietly.

He scans the room, tilting his head like a curious dog. “Hey to you, too.” Two deep wrinkles mark his forehead when he spots Tylenol on the coffee table. He walks in further, leaving his suitcase by the wall. “Is she unwell?”

“You could say that.”

His frown deepens before his face flashes with recognition. “PMS, right? It’s the VWD that makes it worse. She told you about that, didn’t she?”

I conducted comprehensive research on the topic after Mia’s twenty-four-minute-long nosebleed. I stayed up for hours after she fell asleep, reading every study about Von Willebrand available online, then asked Mia a hundred questions over breakfast. Now, I’m prepared for any situation.

While reading up about the disease, I found an article that mentioned PMS, so I know Mia’s contraceptive implant lessens the severity of her periods. Needless to say, I’m no longer opposed to her having that thing.

“She did,” I say, trying not to wake Mia as I untangle myself from her hold and cover her with a blanket.

“So you’re the boyfriend…” Jimmy muses when I approach to shake his hand. “I gotta tell you, I wouldn’t have guessed if I had a million tries.”

“I didn’t realize she told you about me.”

“She didn’t. She said she’s bringing her boyfriend over for the Grand Prix next month but wouldn’t tell me who he is.” He moves to the living room, taking care not to make much noise as he grabs two crystal glasses and a bottle of bourbon out of the drinks cabinet.

Looks like we’re drinking.

“I expected a Hayes… just not you,” he continues. “I assumed it was one of the triplets, and I prayed it’s not Cody. No offense, but that kid gets on my nerves like nobody’s business.” He pulls a bag of ice from the freezer.

I move one barstool to the side of the island where I’ve got a better view of Mia. “Cody’s very talented when it comes to getting on people’s nerves. Why do you think she didn’t tell you who I am?”

“She knows we’re friends. I guess she wanted to surprise me,” he chuckles, pouring bourbon over ice, before sliding a glass across the counter toward me. “And boy, am I fucking surprised. I never pegged you for the type.”

“Neither did I,” I admit, my guards safely in place.

He might act cool but let’s face the facts. I’ve been friends with the guy for three years. We went out together more than once. I saw a few women stick their tongues down his throat or grip his dick through his pants, and he sure saw a few chicks dry hump me at the club.

This now is the first time I’ve ever felt awkward…

“I didn’t plan on coming home,” he adds. “But I got curious when Mia said she was bringing a boyfriend to Monaco. I wanted to grab a drink with the guy.” He lifts his glass up, eyes boring into mine. “So let’s have a drink, Nico.”

“I sense a few heavy questions.”

He waves his hand. “I know my daughter. I might not see her often, but I know everything there is to know. At least I did before you happened. She called me every time she had a date. I knew which guy she liked and which kissed like a puppy.”

“A puppy?”

“Yeah, apparently, he licked her face.”

“Remind me to ask her how he ranked on her scale.”

“A two, if I remember correctly.” He finishes his drink, and urges me to do the same, pouring another two fingers of bourbon into his glass, then mine. “How do you rank?”

Argh… I walked right into that one, didn’t I?

“A nine.”

Jimmy tsks, amusement flickering in his eyes. “Keep working.” He twirls the glass around, lost in thought.

“Ask away,” I encourage. “I’m sure you’ve got questions.”

“Oh, I do. Not for you, though. You’ll tell me what I want to hear.” He casts a glance at his daughter, still asleep on the couch. “She’ll tell me the truth.”

“I’ve never lied to you. And I won’t start now.”

He lifts the glass to his lips, taking a long, measured sip. “Alright, let’s check that theory. How long have you two been seeing each other?”

“A few weeks.”

“You had sex yet?”

I choke on the bourbon, inhaling a sip instead of drinking it. “What the fuck, Jimmy?”

He pats my back, chuckling quietly. “You know why I’m asking. You’ve got quite the hit it and quit it reputation. If you’ve not had sex yet—”

“You’ll assume that’s all I’m waiting for before I cut her loose,” I finish for him.

“You met Aisha by now, right? She’s a nymphomaniac. I walked in on her having sex more times than I’m willing to admit. You get immune after a while. The topic of my daughters’ sex life doesn’t bother me like it does most fathers. You said you won’t lie, so don’t fucking lie and don’t evade.”

“The answer is yes, and if we break up, you can be fucking sure it’ll be her who leaves me, not the other way around,” I seethe, squeezing my glass harder. “Next question.”

He chuckles, patting my shoulder. “Relax. I don’t want the details. Mia’s always been a loner. Always quiet, but for the past few weeks, she’s been unusually cheerful. You make her happy.”

I sure hope so. Navigating our relationship is a challenge like no other. Instead of getting easier, it’s getting harder because she’s easily influenced. She hardly ever stands up to me. I’m flying blind, but I think I’m doing okay.

“She makes me happier,” I admit, looking over to where she’s still asleep, holding the blanket to her cheek. “I guess it might bother you that I’m ten years older—”

“Don’t assume, Nico. Mia only went out with two guys her age, everyone else was at least five years older, so I expected this.” He gets up, opening a cupboard to pull out a bag of peanuts. “Listen, you’ve not been dating long. It’s all fresh, so we’ll save the heavy for later, alright?”

I bob my head, spinning the glass on the breakfast counter. For over an hour, we talk about work before he asks about the skydive. Mia flips onto her side halfway through my story. I’m surprised she hasn’t woken up yet. We’re not exactly keeping our voices down.

“She did very well. She screamed for ten seconds after we jumped out but stopped when she looked around.”

“I’ve seen the pictures,” Jimmy says, slurring his words a little. The long-haul and time difference must’ve taken a toll on him. “I assume you’re staying the night?”

“If that’s not a problem. I’d rather not wake Mia every couple hours to check on her.”

“It’s fine.” He crosses the room, pulling another bottle from the drinks cabinet. “You need to try this. Just one drink.”

“I should get Mia to bed before we start another bottle.”

He waves me off. “Yeah, do that and come back.”

I get the bed ready before moving Mia. Thankfully she’s already in her pj’s. Jimmy and I don’t stop at the one drink. When I finally crawl into bed around two in the morning, I know I’ll wake up with a banging headache.

Mia

“Holy shit!” Jake yells when I stop by the lockers. “Someone did some growing up over the summer. You’re not fat! You need a new nickname.”

I don’t look his way. It never ends well. I open the locker, shove my bag inside and take the books I need for my first class—Chemistry.

“Are those…” he says, feigning surprise. “Are those real boobs you’ve got there, or have you stuffed your bra?”

Students laugh, the sound like thousands of tiny needles pricking my nerve endings.

“You won’t talk to me, huh?”

I close the locker and grab the earphones, putting them in my ears and hating Aisha for putting makeup on me. I feel like I’m wearing a mask. Like I’m trying to fit in when I stopped hoping to long ago.

If the likes of Jake are the people I’m supposed to fit in with, then I’d rather be a loner.

I crank up the volume and make my way to class, eyes on the floor, steps small. I don’t even make it to the end when the music stops playing, and I see Jake from the corner of my eye, scissors in hand and a wide grin.

He cut the cords.

I grit my teeth, adamant not to show him how much it hurts me to be robbed of the one thing I find comfort in.

“What is that?” he cackles, smearing the raspberry lip gloss across my lips and face with his thumb. “That pouty mouth of yours would look great wrapped around my dick,” he states. “Yes! Fucking EPIC! That’s your new nickname. Blow Job Lips!” He scans the crowd of onlookers and starts chanting BJ over and over until not a single person within earshot isn’t chanting with him.

There’s no stopping the tears that pool in my eyes. There’s no stopping my instincts when I turn on my heel and run out of the building, bailing on my first day as a freshman.