The Family You Choose (16 page)

Miranda felt herself blush. "And my friends,
Michael? When you almost raped Jessie or when you assaulted Emily
or when you did God knows what to Sophie, did you feel bad about
those things? When you took away people from me, did you feel bad
about that?"

"I do now."

"You don’t, see, because you’re a
monster."

"I don’t want to be."

"Then don’t be. But leave me alone,
regardless."

He was quiet for a moment. Miranda couldn’t
turn away. He sat down. "You know, I did hate Richard."

"You’re a real bastard, then, because he’s
never done anything except love you, even when you didn’t deserve
it."

"I hated him because you liked him so much. I
hated him because I thought you liked him, because I thought you
loved him."

"I do love him—like a brother."

"I know. I figured that out—because I figured
out who you really did love." She didn’t say anything. "And that
just made me hate Alex more."

"I don’t think you can give me any credit for
that, really."

"You always loved him; no matter what. No
matter how he treated you or ignored you." He smiled and traced the
line of his chair. "Just like you always hated and pitied me, no
matter what." He looked back up and rested his chin on the back of
his chair. "Do you still love him now?"

She blinked. "It’s all a lie, Michael. I
loved some handsome, heroic myth. I didn’t love a real person,
and...I wasn’t a real person. So don’t feel bad about me hating
you," she sighed. "It doesn’t really matter what I thought.
Consider yourself not hated, and go be a good person, or at least a
better one."

"I do care about what you thought. And I care
about what you think now."

She stopped breathing for a moment. She
looked right into his eyes. He smiled more. She realized, as she
hadn’t in years, how handsome he was. Then she reminded herself
that no matter who she was or what he said, he was still Michael
Abbot, the man she’d offered herself up to last night, the man
who’d taken her up on the offer so roughly.

"My ice cream is melting." Before she could
move, he stood up and put the ice cream in the freezer.

"There, all better."

"Thanks."

He stood a foot away from her. "I’m sorry
about last night. Both parts."

"You were mean, but I’m glad I know the truth
now. It makes everything easier."

"Maybe." She blushed again despite her best
efforts. "Then I’m sorry about the other part."

"Really? Because maybe it wasn’t the greatest
ever, but you seem like you got what you wanted."

He shook his head. "It wasn’t what I wanted.
Not that way." He swallowed. "You were pretty close, actually."

"About what?"

"When you said...what you thought I wanted.
When you made fun of me. You were pretty close. I did want to hear
that you always wanted me." He still smiled, but he looked so sad
that Miranda thought she might cry. "And I wanted...I wanted you to
at least enjoy yourself."

She forced herself to stay completely still.
"I’m sorry—I’m sorry you wanted something you can’t have. I know
what that’s like."

"What would it take?"

"For what?"

"To get what I wanted," he said quietly.

"I’m not sleeping with you again." She said
it quickly, completely still. "That was a one-shot deal."

"Okay," he said, nodding. "I get it. I had my
chance, and I was everything you always thought I was."

"It wasn’t that bad."

"Gee, thanks."

"I mean, you didn’t hurt me."

"Are you sure? You looked like maybe you were
having a little trouble afterward," he said awkwardly.

"Michael, please." Miranda wished the floor
would swallow her up. "I—I’m fine. Thank you."

He didn’t move. Miranda felt her heart in her
throat. "I’m glad," he said at last. "Because I didn’t want to hurt
you. I wanted it to be more. I wanted to show you...what I really
feel."

Her lips and ears tingled, and she couldn’t
blink. She had to make a choice whether she would speak or not.
"What do you really feel?" she whispered after almost a minute.

"This." He moved towards her, slowly enough
that she could have moved away. She didn’t. He leaned in. She
closed her eyes. She could feel him smiling.

It was a much better kiss than the one he'd
given her the day before. From the tip of her tongue to the bottom
of her feet, Miranda felt her entire body tingle with a sensation
she’d never felt before. She sighed a little, then put her hands on
his back. He kissed her neck as he put his hands under her shirt.
Still kissing her, he led her to the couch. She followed.

Without thinking about it, she kissed his
neck. He took her hand and put it under his pants. She jumped away.
"No, no." She closed her eyes, trying to catch her breath. "What
kind of games are you playing now?"

"I’m not trying to play anything." He kissed
her again. She fell back onto the couch and realized that she was
pulling him onto her.

"I can’t." He kissed her again. "Not
here."

"Okay," he said, still kissing her as she
half pushed him away, half turned herself into his body. "So come
home with me."

She shook her head. "No."

"Let me make it—"

"It’s not that." She closed her eyes. "I
don’t want anyone to find me."

He smiled and kissed her hand. "No problem.
I’m willing to be your dirty little secret."

She pulled her hand away. "I didn’t want
anyone to find me here, either."

"Oh." He looked chastened. "Don’t worry. I
promise you, I’ll keep Alex away."

"You’re not very trustworthy."

"I’m trying. Do I get any points for
that?"

She blinked. "I’m tired."

"I’ll let you sleep," he said, kissing her
again. "But sometimes it’s nice not to sleep alone."

"I wouldn’t know."

"Really?" She was growing less afraid. "So
you’ve never been lonely? You’ve never looked out into the room and
wondered what it would be like to have someone hold you?" She
didn’t say anything. "You’ve never wished that someone else was in
the room, not even to talk to, but just so that you would know that
it wasn’t just you, alone in the universe?"

"Does that make it go away?" She sincerely
wanted to know. "For all of the people who’ve been in your bed, was
it less scary? Isn’t it—wouldn’t it be—just more loneliness,
knowing that they feel the same thing?"

He closed his eyes and gently grabbed at her
hair. She closed her eyes as he brought his nose to touch hers.
"Maybe. But can I tell you a secret?"

"Shoot."

"Between you and me," he said, kissing her,
"there was only ever one person I wanted in my bed in the dark.
Ever since I used to lie awake in Alex’s house and I used to wonder
what...that person was doing, and thinking. Sometimes I used to
hear a cry in the middle of the night, like someone had just had a
bad dream. The kind of dream I always used to have. And I used to
creep over sometimes and just stand right outside the door, and I
used to wonder. Sometimes I’d put my hand on the door, sometimes
I’d think about coming in." He smiled a little bit. "What do you
think? Should I have tried the door?"

"Maybe not." But she kissed him back, and for
a long time. She’d never told anyone about her dreams or waking up
in the middle of the night.

"Really?" he asked, and for the first time
ever, she didn’t doubt his sincerity. He kissed her again. "You
don’t think I could have made you less lonely?"

"I don’t know," she kissed him back, more
gently. "Do you think you’d just told me how worthless I was?"

"You never looked at me when I didn’t. How
could I compete with Jessie or Richard or Alex?"

"Do you expect me to believe any of this?"
She kissed him for much longer, and she could feel the goose bumps
rising on his arm.

"I’m hoping I can be convincing."

She smiled, but her eyes filled with tears.
He kissed her eyelids. "Let’s go."

He grabbed one of her bags. She didn’t say
anything. She was quiet the whole ride back to his house. He
parked, and then opened the door for her. She looked at his face, a
trace of a smile haunting his lips. She took his hand, and then he
led her through his front door.

His lips were soft, she thought that night.
She’d never thought about his lips before, except that been so
tight and cruel—or angry. But he wasn’t cruel now, and he wasn’t
angry.

"Don’t go," he whispered to her at one point.
They were lying on the couch. His shirt was unbuttoned, but she’d
only taken off her coat and boots.

She smiled as he kissed her. She wasn’t
worried now. She felt as if she’d never been so fully in a moment
before. "And why should I stay?"

"Because you don’t want to be lonely
anymore."

She ran her hand over his chest. "I’ve lived
with it so far."

She sighed as he kissed her fingers. "You
win. I don’t want to be lonely anymore."

She could leave anytime she wanted to.
Zainab’s apartment was still a cab ride away. She didn’t need to
worry that she was trapped anywhere anymore.

"Okay."

He pulled her to him. She ran her fingers
through his hair as he kissed her neck. "Admit that you want to
stay."

She pulled him into a kiss, biting his lip.
"I want to stay."

He smiled. "I win," he whispered.

They spent the next day in his house. She
felt like a new part of her, something she didn’t know was inside
of her, emerged from the darkness that had surrounded her for the
last few days. She might have been ashamed of it before if she had
known about it, but now she couldn’t say no to it.

She was surprised after everything that he
was so solicitous. He asked her where he could touch her, if that
felt good, if she wanted more, should he do something faster or
slower. And she didn’t worry, as every piece of experience told her
she should. So she answered honestly; she found she couldn’t help
but do so.

She was also seeing a new part of him. She
felt it most keenly when his chest was pressed next to hers. There
was something about him that was all-too familiar. There was an
ache in him that she could practically hear. She realized the pity
she’d always felt for him wasn’t based on sympathy but empathy. He
missed the same things she missed. And then she hated him more than
she ever had, because she knew that he had recognized it in her,
too, and had still chosen to do everything he had.

She pulled away from him suddenly, angrily,
when it overcame her. She thought about what Zainab would think if
she knew that Miranda had gone back to him, what Emily would think
if she knew any of it, and how Jessie just might lose her mind
forever if she thought Miranda had gotten this close to Michael and
not killed him. The ridiculousness of being there, after
everything...She could leave at any time.

She pulled away again when he touched her. "I
should go," she said coldly.

He reached out to her again. She didn’t move.
He put his arms around her. She couldn’t look at him. "Why are you
angry with me now?"

"Sorry, I just realized how stupid it is to
get seduced after you get screwed. Seems out of sequence."

"I’ll admit, this might look illogical."

"No, admit this," she said, still not moving.
"This is all part of the same game to hurt me; to hurt him. You
just didn’t get enough satisfaction from it before. Just admit it,
because you’ve already gotten what you want. It doesn’t matter how
much longer I stay."

"I’m not playing a game now. I don’t want to
hurt you."

She could hear his words, but they didn’t
make sense. "Why not?"

"Because I don’t have to," he said. "I’m not
playing at anything right now, but please don’t ask me to explain
it."

"No, I think you have to try."

"Fair enough." He turned her around to face
him. "I’ve waited for years. I wanted to pay him back. He took
everything from me, and the only person who cared about me was
Richard. I wanted what was mine, but all I had left was this
house—which is pretty damn cold in the winter, in case you haven’t
noticed—and that money. I swear to you, I would have lived on the
street rather than stay with him, and I think I did everything in
my power to get turned out. But he wouldn’t do it."

"So you waited until I might be able to help
out," she said bitterly, and his jaw tightened. "Didn’t it occur to
you...what’s so obscene, Michael, is that you weren’t going to tell
me the truth until it helped you. How does that make you any better
than he is?"

"Because I did tell you." She put up her hand
as he came closer.

"But only to hurt me, or to get something you
wanted. Not because you cared about my life. What else are you
waiting for?"

"I told you, I’m not playing a game, not even
the one you started. When you came here—when you left—everything
seemed so empty. I’d given up my fantasy about you years ago, and
then there you were. And then you were gone..." He smiled, and
moved her hair out of her face. "You see," he said softly, "you
really are the one who got what she wanted. Because you’re right,
what happened did make me feel little and small."

"What about Alex?"

"He's not here, is he?"

"I think he is in a way. I know you saw him
at Richard's house, and you both acted like idiots."

Michael looked away. "Yeah, that wasn't as
satisfying as I thought it might be."

"So hurting Alex wasn’t everything you
thought it would be?"

"I think you could say that," he said,
shaking his head. "I think Hell is going to have to freeze over
before Alex turns that money over to me anytime soon, and by
‘soon,’ I mean before I’m dead."

"It was stupid to tell him. You should have
waited until after you’d gotten what you wanted."