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Chapter Two
Mia
It was finally Saturday, the sun was shining beautifully, and I was headed to my local indie bookstore to lose myself in the aisles of classic literature. This was something I’d enjoyed doing since my senior year of high school. It was a wonderful way to escape. I enjoyed the quiet time and serenity that the works of Brontë, Austin, and Wharton provided.
I smiled at the bookstore attendant, Greg.
“Hey, Mia,” he said with a wide smile. “We’ve missed you the past few Saturdays.”
“Yeah, work has been crazy. But it’s finally starting to settle down a bit.”
“Going to the stacks?” he called.
“Where else?” I breezed up the open staircase and stood in front of the aisles and aisles of books, my small fingers eager to touch them.
“I’d know you anywhere,” a voice behind me said.
I froze.
If I turned around and saw Terry Bradley standing there, it would wreck me. Terry was the love of my life until he wasn’t. Everything was so perfect between us until it wasn’t. Until he had the chance to go to London and pursue his passion—photography. Terry was never man enough to end his relationship with me face to face, so he sent a postcard that merely said:
I’m sorry I hurt you. Please forgive me, my love, but I can’t anymore. ~ Terry
Now, after all these years, he was here in my city and my bookstore. It took everything I had to turn around and face him. Sure enough, all six foot two of his muscular frame stood before me. His hair was still a wild brown with blond-iced tips. He still had that sexy southern drawl. It didn’t seem to matter that he had left Texas almost fifteen years ago—he’d never lost that drawl. I loved it; it was so sexy.
“Terry.” I wasn’t sure if he was real. I had pictured this moment in my head so many times, but never in my wildest dreams did I ever think I would get the chance to actually see him again.
“Mia, how are you?” Terry asked. He seemed to be so careful with his words, as I was with mine. As my eyes gazed into his familiar brown ones, I saw something shining in them: guilt. Did he feel guilty?
As if he could tell what I was thinking, he began again. “Can we, um—do you have time to sit for a little while?” He looked down at me from behind his lashes, shifting his weight uncomfortably. He was nervous. Terry Bradley, the man who broke my heart five years ago, was now standing in front of me, and he was nervous. The Terry that I had come to know was never nervous. He was always too composed to be uneasy. His emotions had never seemed to get the best of him like they were now.
I wasn’t sure if it was curiosity or just the need to know why he had walked away from me after all we had meant to each other, but I was going to talk to him, I knew that much. I had some burning questions that had plagued me for too long. While I had him here, and while he was willing, I was going to get some answers.
“Yeah, I have some time,” I said carefully, trying not to let any emotion show through in my voice. I was going to be in control of this situation. “Let’s go over there.” I gestured to an open table in a private corner of the shop.
“Lead the way.” His voice sounded like velvet as he motioned for me to sit first. For a moment, we just stayed there, not saying anything and each of us appraising the other. I had to admit that time away from me had done Terry good, as much as I hated to admit that. The changes were almost subtle, but having known the man’s body like the back of my hand, I could tell he had been working out. His shoulders seemed broader, and underneath the tight black shirt he wore, I could tell his abs and pecs were more defined. He rested his arms in front of him on the table in a way that allowed me to see the new definition.
I looked down at myself for a moment, appraising my white-and-black flowered skirt that rested on my short tan legs. On my feet was a pair of strappy black sandals that I’d designed. My skirt was accented by a bright yellow halter that set off my hazel eyes. I knew my hair was shorter now than it had been when we were together. I wondered if he noticed. Did he like what he was seeing before him the same way I did?
Terry had always been one of those men who could anticipate your needs before you verbalized them, so when he spoke, his words didn’t surprise me. “I have to admit, you look absolutely stunning. But I wouldn’t expect anything less from one of America’s best shoe designers.” His smile spread wider across his face as he finished his sentence.
I blushed and looked at the floor. “You don’t look so bad yourself. I see your photos from time to time. They look nice. There’s just something about your work now...” my voice trailed off. I wasn’t really sure where I was going with that comment.
“I didn’t think you would still look at my work.” I noticed his eyes never left mine while we spoke.
“Well, when you take photographs of models for magazines like InStyle and Vogue, how can you expect me not to notice them?” I smiled at him, trying to sound playful and hoping that he couldn’t tell how hard this was for me.
We stared at each other for a while before he broke the silence. “Catch me up on what’s been happening with you. Only the parts you’re comfortable with, of course.”
“Really? You want to sit here and catch up like we’re old friends?” I asked him, shaking my head at his boldness. My shock of seeing him was wearing off, and the anger was settling in.
“Can you please humor me? I just want to know how you’ve been.”
I rolled my eyes but began talking anyway. “I have my own company—Shoegasm. I sell designer shoes for the average woman to afford. That’s it. Not much to tell.”
“Darlin’,” he said, and I flinched inwardly as his pet name for me resurfaced. “I want to know about you, not the information I get when I Google you.” His face fell into a familiar nervous smirk at the admission that he had looked me up. It was strange that after five years, I still remembered his expressions and every curve of his perfect face.
“So Terry,” I said, enjoying his embarrassment. “What would it say if I Googled you?”
