Mila (Heartbreaker #3) (9 page)

“Do you want to help?”

“Sure,” he replies. He comes toward me, and I hand him the dough. I move to the side of him, grab his hands, and guide them to my pasta maker and watch as he starts to feed it through. “This is pretty easy.” He smiles as he guides the long sheet of dough through.

“
Si. Mamma
made sure that we could all make homemade pasta from the time we were little. Nico’s the best at it. He’d make a great chef.”

I let him finish the pasta as I put the bread in the oven and get the water ready for the pasta. When he’s done, I show him how to dust the noodles with flour and let them set while I make a quick sausage and pepper sauce. Brian is leaning against the counter, watching me, and it feels so nice.

“What did you do today?” I ask.

His throat works as he takes a sip of his wine. I want to place my lips there, but instead I turn back to the stove.

“I trained for a couple of hours and helped do a demonstration. Came home, cleaned up a little bit, and then read and watched TV until you called me. Nothing too exciting.”

I feel his fingertips as he brushes my hair back and pushes it behind my ear. It feels so natural for him to touch me, and I lean into his hand. Before either of us can do anything about it, the timer goes off. He gives me a squeeze.

When we finish cooking, he helps me plate our food and Brian carries them to the breakfast bar. I grab the bottle of wine and the basket of garlic bread. We eat in a comfortable silence, and I take immense pleasure at the obvious enjoyment he’s getting from the food. The best part is that we made it together. Why wouldn’t I want this with him? He’s shoveling it in and moaning after each bite.

After we finish, I stand up to clean up, but he stays me with a hand on my arm. “Let me clean up. You cooked all of this for us. It’s the least I can do.”

We compromise and I stand up to help him. In no time, the counters are wiped down and the dishwasher is loaded. Brian grabs the bottle of wine and fills both of our glasses.

“Will you show me the painting you were working on?”

I grab his hand and drag him to my studio. When we step inside, I pull the tarp off and step back so he can look at it. He walks up to the canvas and is silent while he stares at it. In one gulp, I finish off my wine.

He turns to face me. “You’re really fucking talented. You know that, right?” My heart flips in my chest. “I know nothing about art, but your pieces are just beautiful.”

“
Grazie
. Would you let me draw you sometime?” I don’t know why I’m asking him, but now that I’ve thought about it, I really want to draw him.

“You want to draw me?” He’s looking at me with wide eyes that make him almost look comical.

“
Si
, I think you’d make an excellent subject. Let me think about how I want to draw you and then we’ll go from there.”

“Okay, sure. I’ll be your subject. I won’t be a very interesting one, but I’ll pose for you.”

He turns back to the painting as he runs a hand through his hair. Most men I know think very highly of themselves, but not Brian, which is ridiculous. He’s got to know what a good-looking guy he is.

***

After I showed him my painting, we watched a movie about football, drank espresso, and ate our cupcakes, which were so delicious, I ended up eating both of mine. I’ll need to work out extra hard.

Now I’m walking him to my front door. I’m a little disappointed he’s leaving, but I was nodding off earlier, so he told me to get some sleep and we’d talk tomorrow.

“Would you like to come watch me do a couple of demonstrations at the studio tomorrow? My sensei is testing some kids tomorrow to get their next belt and I usually do a demonstration with my nunchucks and
bo
. The kids get a kick out of it.”

He laces his fingers with mine and kisses the back of my hand.

“Sure, absolutely. What time do I need to be there?” It makes me happy that he wants to share this with me.

We make plans for him to pick me up at nine in the morning. He leans down and kisses my cheek. I watch him walk to his car, get in, and drive away. Locking up, I head into my bathroom and go through my nightly routine. Then I throw on my nightgown.

As I lie down in bed, I stare up at the ceiling. Maybe I can do this. Maybe I can have a real relationship.

Chapter Nine

Brian

It’s eight o’clock in the morning when I pull into Mila’s driveway. Last night, I had such a hard time going home after our movie was over, especially since the vibe that she was giving off was that she wanted to be with me in some other capacity than friends, but I don’t want to get my hopes up. All I know is that, over the past couple of weeks, I’ve felt myself falling for her more and more. I actually talked to a friend of mine, Nathan. We’ve been friends since high school, so he’s seen the aftermath when the girls I dated broke my heart.

He moved to California four years ago, so we talked over the phone. He told me that I needed to be careful because I always seemed to think we were one way when the girl always felt another. I’m going to proceed with caution, but damn, if she isn’t making that difficult.

Mila greets me at the door, looking fucking beautiful. Her dark locks are up in a curly ponytail. She’s wearing a simple white button-up shirt with the shirtsleeves rolled up to her forearms, skinny jeans, and jeweled sandals. She kisses both of my cheeks and steps back so I can step inside. I feel like a schlub next to her, but that’s only because I’m wearing a t-shirt, track pants, and tennis shoes.

She surprises me when I step inside by wrapping her arms around me. “Sorry I fell asleep on you last night. I’m excited to watch you do your martial arts today. I’ve only seen it on TV.”

“That’s okay. I know the movie was more for me last night.” She kisses my cheek and then walks toward the kitchen. I follow behind her.

“Do you have time for an espresso?” she asks.

My phone says that we’ve got time. “Sure. You know I never liked this stuff until you started making it for me, but now I’m kind of addicted,” I say with a laugh as I lean against the counter. She hands me the little cup and I shoot it back because apparently that’s the Italian way to do it.

Mila takes my cup, smiling widely at me before placing it in the sink. “Okay, shall we go?” She grabs her purse, and then loops her arm through mine.

We head to the studio. We get there before the studio officially opens, but I’ve got a key and have had one since I was seventeen. “Just stay here and I’m going to change into my
gi
.”

I leave her sitting in a chair by the mats while I head into the locker room. I’m kind of nervous for her to watch me work, but I’m looking forward to it.

When that’s all done, I step out onto the floor and find Javier sitting next to and talking to Mila. She turns to me as I walk up to them. “Well, look at you. You look so handsome.”

My cheeks feel warm and I know I’m blushing. “Uh, thanks. Hey, Javier, how’s it going?” My mentor, and friend, stands up and gives me a backslapping hug.

Javier is about five inches shorter than I am, but he could have me on my back with a foot at my throat in seconds. “Good, son. Rosie and I had dinner with your parents last night.”

Kids start showing up, so I make sure Mila’s all set and go help Javier set up.

***

“Okay guys, I’ve got a special treat for you. Some of our teachers are going to do demonstrations for you. First, we have Senpai Eric and Senpai Marcus, who are going to do a Krav Maga demonstration. Then Senpai Brian is going to demonstrate the use of nunchucks and a
bo
.” A nervous laugh escapes my mouth when the kids start clapping.

The other guys do their demonstration, and I stand off to the side and watch them. The kids all have a look of wonder on their faces as they watch the other guys. I turn to where Mila is sitting. She catches me watching her and looks at me with a bright smile. I raise my hand and give her a small wave before I turn back.

The guys go at it for a few more minutes before they finish. I grab my nunchuck and stand in the middle of the mat. Taking a deep breath, I begin to move. The nunchuck moves around in front of me and behind me. It feels like an extension of my arms as it moves. When I finish, the kids are all staring at me with wide eyes. I bow and then grab my
bo
. The first year I practiced the
bo
, I hurt myself more than I ever completed any motions.

I move in a fluid motion, the staff spinning in front of me, and then to the side, and then behind. When I finish, I again bow. A couple of the kids come up to me, wanting to learn how to use the nunchucks, so I crouch next to them and put the nunchucks in Hank’s hands. I hold both of his hands as Hank twirls them around. After his turn, I help a couple more kids before we finish up.

Maybe Mila wants to learn how to do some of this too. When I turn to ask her, I find her chair empty. Hmm, maybe she went to the bathroom?

After standing outside of the door for the past ten minutes, I knew she wasn’t in there. When I slip into the locker room, I grab my cellphone and pull it out.

I see that I have a text from her. My stomach sinks as I read it.

I’m sorry Brian. You’re a wonderful man, but I can’t lead you on anymore. I hope someday we can be friends.

With a heavy heart, I throw my phone into my locker and sit down on the bench. I rest my head in my hands and something in my stomach twists. I should’ve known I was pushing too much. As always, I am just never enough for anyone. If I knew it was acceptable for a man to cry, I would.

I throw back on the clothes I arrived in. I just want to get the fuck out of here. Javier tries to stop me, but I shrug him off and head outside to my car. When I get home, I let myself inside, go right to the freezer, and grab the bottle of vodka. Pulling a glass out of the cupboard, I fill it with the clear liquid, bring it to my lips, and tip it back.

The liquor burns as it slides down my throat, but I welcome it. After I empty the glass, I fill it again and carry it into the bathroom so I can shower. By the time I’m done showering, I’ve got a slight buzz and honestly just want to go to bed, so that’s what I do.

***

It’s been two weeks since I’ve heard from Mila. I’ve tried calling and texting her, but she hasn’t responded. Nathan invited me out to see him and his wife, Cora, in San Diego. They had their first baby six months ago, and I probably should meet her. Plus, I could really use the distraction.

I’m late for our monthly staff meeting. I pull into the parking lot and race to the door. I pull it open and make my way toward my desk, where I dump my phone and messenger bag. When I step inside our conference room, everyone’s eyes turn to me.

“Sorry, I overslept,” I say as I sit down in the only available seat, which is next to Jill. With a nod, I sit down next to her. “Hey.”

She leans toward me. “You look like shit.”

“Yeah, well, I feel like shit.”

I turn back to our manager and pretend to listen as she gives us updates on staff, cases, and workshops coming up. As soon as she dismisses us, I apologize for being late and head to my desk. All I want is to bury myself in my work and get back to what’s really important. I don’t want to admit to anyone that I’m hurting or that I’m feeling sorry for myself, but I know some people aren’t meant for love, marriage, and kids, including myself, and I just need to be okay with that.

While typing up a report, I ignore Jill’s concerned look as she walks by my desk. Instead of saying anything to her, I pick up my phone and text my mom to see if I can stop and talk on my way home. Of course, she says yes and that she’s making me dinner. My appetite is pretty non-existent, but I already had to work so hard to get what little bulk I have, so it’s been a full-time job force-feeding myself lately.

“Brian?” I take a deep breath and turn to Jill, who’s standing next to my cubicle.

“Hey, Jill. What’s up? You’re looking well.” She’s due in another month or so and she’s all belly.

She strokes the swell of her belly, but her eyes are sad. Fuck, I really don’t want to do this now. Jill has always been a great friend to me, but this is one situation I really don’t want her to get in the middle of, and I don’t want any advice about it right now. I just want to wallow in self-pity for a while and then I want to move on.

“Thank you. She’s been using my kidneys and my spine as a punching bag lately. I think she’s starting to run out of room and she doesn’t like that. So, on to the elephant in the room. How are you?”

“I’m fine, really. It was probably a good thing it happened now than months down the road. I’m actually thinking about taking a trip. It just depends if I can get the time off. I hope she finds some happiness.”

I start to look at my computer, but Jill stops me.

“Go talk to her. Hear what she has to say, make her tell you why.” Her voice is pleading.

“I can’t, Jill. I can’t deal with the whole let’s be friends, but be more, but no, let’s be friends, anymore. It’s not fair to me or to her.” My cellphone rings, saving me from having to talk about Mila anymore.

“I’ll let you get that, but let’s talk later.” She disappears, and I let out a sigh of relief as I take my call.

With my mind focused, I decide that I’m going to have to sneak out of this place to avoid Jill later.

***

“Okay, thanks. I’m looking forward to seeing you guys,” I tell Nathan as I pull into my parents’ driveway.

“No problem. We can’t wait to see you. Cora’s already making plans for us. Wait until you see the baby. She’s getting so big.” I’ve only seen her in pictures and when we’ve Skyped.

“Well, thanks again for letting me come stay with you. I’ll text you when my flight gets in. I’ve rented a car already, so I’m pretty much all set. Give my love to Cora and Caitlyn.” I hang up and climb out of my car.

My mom greets me at the door. “Hi, my boy.” She wraps me in a bear hug. “I don’t like seeing my boy sad.”

I hated having to tell her about Mila. The look of disappointment that had crossed her face hit me right in the gut. She really liked Mila. Hell, I really liked Mila—I still do, but it was just not meant to be.

“I’m fine, Mom. I actually wanted to talk to you about something.” I follow behind her into the kitchen, then sit at the counter while she pours me a glass of iced tea and then dishes me up leftover spaghetti. The woman is a firm believer that food cures everything.

“What did you want to tell me?” she asks as she hands me a napkin and then slides the plate of spaghetti in front of me with two huge slices of garlic bread.

“I talked to Nate and I’m going to go visit him, Cora, and Caitlyn. I just need a vacation, and I’ve never been to the West Coast, so I figured it would be a good to go now. You know, clear my head and just decide what I want to do with my life.” I take a sip of my drink.

“Baby, what do you mean when you say decide what to do with your life?” Her hand covers mine.

“I don’t know, I’ve been really thinking about doing the foster parent thing. I started filling out the paperwork and I have to do the classes, but I’ve wanted to give a child the kind of love that you and Dad gave me. I know it’ll be harder because I’m a single man, but I want to give a child who needs a home one.”

I was thinking about becoming a foster parent long before I met Mila and was just waiting for the right time.

“That’s wonderful, and you know that your father and I will help any way we can. Becoming foster parents was one of the best decisions we made because it brought us you.”

Her eyes turn glassy. I get up and pull her into a hug. My mom always gets emotional when she talks about it. We all found each other when we needed each other the most.

After I finish eating, my mom tells me to go get Dad out of his workshop so she can feed us dessert. How my dad isn’t obese is beyond me. When I was younger, he told me it was because he has a hollow leg. Of course I never believed the man, but I played along to humor him.

While eating huge slices of chocolate cake with white icing dripping down the sides, I tell him about California and the foster parent gig. I notice right away that they keep looking at each other with concern in their eyes. I ignore it because there is nothing for them to be concerned about.

As I head out, I kiss my mom and hug my dad good-bye and promise to call them before I leave town.

Next week can’t come soon enough.