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And we knock on his door, even though I have a key back in the apartment. It’s taped to the bottom of my cookie jar. It was only for emergencies, after all. In case Mike needed something taken care of when he was out of town with buddies. It wasn’t so I could let myself in whenever.
Man, I really was a doormat before. I smirk to myself at the thought. Wonder what Mike’s going to think of me now.
He answers the door. I’m a little disappointed it’s not Becca, because wouldn’t that be a great conversation starter. But Mike looks utterly stunned to see me. “Oh my God. Regan.”
And he bursts into tears and reaches out to hug me close.
I have to admit, this is not the way I pictured our reunion. I pat his back awkwardly and give Daisy a helpless glance as Mike hugs me and blubbers on my shoulder. He’s so thankful to see me alive again, he says between gulping sobs. He thought I was dead.
And then he pulls back and tries to kiss me, and I recoil.
“Don’t,” I say. I don’t want to be kissed by him, ever again.
He looks shocked that I pull away from him. “What’s wrong? Baby, are you okay?”
“What’s wrong? Mike, I know you’re with Becca.” I can see her shit on his kitchen counter from where I’m standing.
He shakes his head, and his face is a little paler. I notice that he starts to close the door to his apartment behind him, blocking our view, and I fight the urge to giggle when sweet little Daisy rolls her eyes at this move. “No, baby. That was, you know, a thing. We were comforting each other.”
“Uh-huh,” I say flatly. “How fast did you two start comforting each other? I’m curious. Was it a day or two after I was kidnapped or did you wait a whole week?”
Judging from the ugly flush that crosses his cheeks, I’m not hitting far off the mark. He’s embarrassed. “It’s not like that, Regan. I was . . . so upset when you disappeared.” He squeezes my shoulder and gets choked up again. “I kept drinking, and Becca came over to talk some sense into me. And she . . . kinda never left.”
“You make it sound like Becca hopped onto your dick.”
He shakes his head again and tries to rub my arm, but I bat his hand away. “Baby, you know I love you and only you.” He smiles at me through his tears. “Are you . . . are you okay?”
“Better than you,” I say, and I’m surprised to find that it’s the truth. He’s got snot running down his face, and he’s a mess. His shirt’s filthy, stained with breakfast. It looks like he hasn’t shaved in a week or two, and his hair is greasy. He does look like he’s gone through hell.
Which is ironic since I’m the one that went through hell, not him. But when his eyes tear up again, I find myself patting him on the shoulder. “I don’t think you meant badly by it, Mike,” I say. “I’m sure you were hurting and lonely. And it’s always been all about you.”
“What?” he says, as if he didn’t hear me right.
“Did you even look for me, Mike? Or did you hear I was missing, throw your hands up, and start fucking my old BFF?”
His eyes dart back and forth from my impassive face to Daisy’s, looking for sympathy. He won’t find any here. “Why are you blaming me?” he says in a sad voice. “I did everything I could. The police said they would handle it.”
“I’m sure they did,” I say. And maybe in his mind, Mike thinks that he did do everything. Maybe he can go to sleep at night knowing he placed a few phone calls and was appropriately sad that his girlfriend disappeared. Maybe that’s all that’s required for Mike.
But I think of Daniel. I think of him searching through the hellish streets and digging through brothels for a year and a half, looking for Naomi. I think of all we went through together. And I know if I went missing, he’d tear the world apart to try to find me.
He’d never stop.
And . . . I smile. I’m with the right man. I may have had to go through hell to get to his side, but I’m where I need to be now.
Mike returns my smile tentatively, but he’s clearly confused. “You want to come in, honey?”
“No,” I tell him. “And I’m not your honey anymore. Becca is now.” I clasp his hand. “I hope you two are very happy together.”
“But . . . no,” Mike begins. “Regan, I want you—”
I shake my head. “I’m here to give you closure, Mike.” I give his hand a little squeeze. “You and I are done. I’ve moved on, and you did, too.”
