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“Of course you will. Would.” She looks down at the table, then back up at me. “Anton…”
No matter how many times she says my name, it never gets old. Her attention on me is like a drug I can’t get enough of.
I wait for her to speak as she looks from side to side and behind her, making sure no one is listening. Still, she lowers her voice.
“Adam makes me blow him to get the money for my grandpa’s bills. I’ve done it twice now. I feel sick as I’m doing it, but still…”
I wince as I take in her words. My gut clenches with anger and disgust.
“It’s pretty much prostitution,” she practically whispers, tears spilling down her cheeks.
I reach across the table and take her hand. “Mia, no. Adam’s abusing you. You see that, don’t you?”
“I guess I do. But I’m the one allowing it by doing what he wants.”
“What’s your alternative? Putting your grandpa out on the street?”
She looks out the window, her tone sad. “I’d do anything for him. And I know if the tables were turned, he’d do the same for me.”
I squeeze her hand gently. “What you just told me says more about Adam than it does you. I still think you’re strong and compassionate and the most beautiful woman I’ve ever known. I wouldn’t look down on you for doing what you have to for your family.”
“You’re so incredibly nice. Are you for real?”
“Damn right I am. And there’s more than this for us, Mia. I know it. But first, you have to call Kevin and get this divorce going.”
She nods. “He’ll do the whole case for free?”
“The whole thing.”
“Promise me you aren’t paying for it.”
“I’ll never lie to you. I told you the deal I made with him.”
Mia exhales and slowly nods. “Okay. I guess…I’ll call him, then. I can’t pass up this opportunity.”
“Good girl.”
She gives me a wide smile, her shoulders sinking with relaxation. “This is really happening.”
“It really is.”
“If Adam finds out you’re helping me…”
“I sincerely hope he does. I can’t start an altercation, but I want to punch him so fucking bad I can hardly stand it.”
Her eyes widen a bit. “Please don’t tell him. I’m afraid of what he might do.”
“I won’t volunteer the information. But if he comes to your apartment, you let me know. I’m not gonna let him bully you anymore.”
“You don’t have to take care of me, you know.”
“What if I want to?”
She just looks at me for a few seconds before saying, “If we were together, I’d want to take care of you, too. I’m never having it any other way again.”
“I never thought that would even be an option for us,” I admit. “I figured I’d have to continue wanting you from afar. But if we can get there, Mia—if we can actually get to a point where we’re together—I promise you’ll be everything to me.”
“I don’t know when I’ll be ready. When I am though, I want it to be you. I want that so much. But, Anton, once you learn everything about me, you may change your mind.” Her voice trembles with emotion.
I shake my head. “That’s not gonna happen. And I don’t care how long it takes ‘til you’re ready. I’ll wait. I’ve been waiting and I’m not going anywhere.”
Our food arrives and I pretend to focus on eating, but really I’m watching Mia put syrup on her pancakes. She drizzles it on in a little line, zigzagging it around the pancakes, but she keeps pouring until the pancakes are drenched. It would’ve been simpler to just dump the syrup on, but I find her way of doing it endearing.
“Do you always eat healthy, or do you have guilty pleasures?” she asks me as she raises a forkful of pancakes to her mouth.
“I stay on track during the season, but I indulge a little during the offseason. Ice cream is a vice for me.”
“What kind do you like best?”
I grin. “Anything Ben and Jerry’s.”
“Ohh, I’m with you there. Cherry Garcia is life.”
“Yep, love that one. And there’s this oatmeal cookie one I love. I’d eat it in the car right outside the grocery store if I had a spoon.”
“What else, besides ice cream?”
“I got a thing for nachos,” I confess. “With all the good shit on ‘em. Cheese, sour cream, meat, tomatoes, those little jalapenos, chili…”
“Yes.” Her honey-colored eyes are bright with happiness. “Maybe we could make nachos sometime. Dix would absolutely love it.”
“He would. Let’s do it. Beer and nachos. How ‘bout Friday night?” I run through my schedule in my head. “Shit, I’ve got a game that night. What about Saturday night? We can all watch a movie.”
“What about your diet, though?”
I shrug and repeat her words from earlier. “I can’t pass up this opportunity.”
Her smile widens. “With the tomatoes, it’s pretty much a salad anyway.”
