Vanished: A Bad Boy Second Chance Romance (8 page)

              “He’s not good enough for you, Mia,” he says intently. The breath escapes my lungs. I was not expecting that, and I’m stuck in a stare until I hear Ian get up behind me.

              Panic takes over, and I slam the door in Joey’s face, spin around, and put my back to it. Ian tries to get by and grab the handle, but I put both palms against his chest and stop him.

              “Stop! Stop, okay? It’s not that bad, just let me explain!”

              “Who the fuck was that, Mia!”

              He tries to push past me toward the door, but I push him back again.

              “Stop, Ian! Okay? Just stop, and let me explain!”

              This has been the most unbelievable moment, and I take a minute to catch my breath. My head is still pounding from the hangover. He looks calmed down now, and I step past Ian into the kitchen and pull out a bottle of Advil. I pour myself a glass of water and wash down two pills. Trying his best to relax, Ian leans against the doorway, waiting for me to speak.

              “That was Joey Mason,” I say as matter of fact as I can.

              He frowns and gives me an odd look.

              “Joey…Mason?” Ian says, thinking back. I’ve never spoken about Joey to Ian. Only my mom and closest friends know about him. I didn’t want to give Ian any reason to worry. Besides, it’s a pretty crazy thing to tell your current boyfriend that you still have feelings for someone from six years ago that you never even really dated.

              “Isn’t he that kid that went missing a few years ago?”

              Ian is from Glenville, two towns over, and wasn’t really part of the whole Joey fiasco, but everyone around has at least heard about it. I nod, and he frowns, not understanding. Why would he?

              “And he was doing what over here?”

              “We were…friends in high school. I haven’t seen him in six years.”

              “Okay, but what was he doing over
here
.” I can see the concern in his eyes. He wants to know if I’ve cheated on him. It should be easy enough to just explain it to him, but for some reason, the words get stuck in my throat. I don’t know how to tell him, or how much. Somehow, me trying to not look guilty is making me feel and look guilty.

              Finally, when I don’t respond, Ian snaps.

              “Mia…what was he doing over here? Were you—“

              “No! Ian! Look, I ran into him at Gina’s, okay. I haven’t seen him in six years, and he came by last night to say hi. I was drunk…and he took care of me. I guess he ended up passing out on the couch.”

              “Took care of you,” he says to himself, obviously not too pleased. “You didn’t think, I dunno, maybe your
fiancé
should take care of you?”

              “You’re not my fiancé, Ian…” I say quietly. It’s not the nicest thing to say, but it’s true. I instantly feel like shit when I see how my words affect him, though. He needs to understand, though. “And I didn’t call him. He just showed up. Besides, would you have really wanted me calling you over late at night to take care of me when I’m a hot mess?”

              “And that?” He points to me and I look down and realize I’m still wearing Joey’s sweatshirt. I just can’t win, can I? “You just ended up wearing his sweatshirt?”

              “I got…my shirt got dirty, so I…”

              Ian hangs his head, and I realize how this all must appear to him; I tell him not to propose to me, he leaves and comes back the next morning to find his girlfriend alone in the house with a man, and she’s wearing his sweatshirt. Not exactly the most innocent of scenarios.

              “I’m sorry, Ian. But nothing happened, I can promise you—“

              “I know,” he says, looking up at me. “I know nothing happened. I trust you. But, Mia…I love you, and I want to marry you.”

              He starts walking toward me, and I realize that this has only fueled his love for me even more. But this is not the time. This can’t happen. My whole body tenses up, feeling instantly hot again. I want to run. This is all just too much for me. My head is spinning.

              “Please, Mia,” he says, getting down on one knee before me. “Please marry me.”

              I look down at him, putting it all out there for me, the woman he loves.

              I’d asked him not to do this, because I knew I wouldn’t be able to handle it, and seeing him now before me makes me realize how right I was.

              I have to do something now, and I don’t want to do it.

              I have to break his heart.

              “We should get a drink,” Cassidy says.

              “Uh, did you forget about last night?” I say as we sit, almost swallowed up by her worn leather couch. I’ve just told her the news; Ian and I are taking a break.

              It’s one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do, but it’s the right decision. Too much is going on right now, and I need time to reevaluate. If I’m going to marry Ian, I need to do it after I’ve resolved things with Joey. Right now my mind is a whirl, and I don’t want to make any brash decisions. He’s a good man, I just don’t know if he’s right for me. If I marry him on a whim without resolving things with Joey, and it ends up ruining our marriage, I will feel horrible. Everyone will.

              “You should just marry him,” Cassidy says.

              “Who?”
              “Ian! Who did you think I’m talking about?” she exclaims, as though I’m being utterly absurd. “Who did you think I meant? Joey?”

              I shrug and give her a non-committal look with a sheepish grin, but she’s not having it.

              “You need to think, Mia. I mean
really think
about what you’re doing.”

              Uh oh, here comes a classic Cassidy speech. She has a tendency to take over being my mother sometimes. I love her for it, but sometimes it’s a little much, and right now I’m not sure if I want to hear it. Cassidy isn’t exactly what you’d call a romantic, and prefers the single life to the relationship life, and is a bit more cynical when it comes to matters of the opposite sex.

              “I mean, what is this? Joey used to basically stalk you until he finally had the balls to ask you out. You guys were official for what…one day? And then he was gone? I mean, he completely bailed on you after that fight with Brad. What is this weird fantasy you’re holding on to? It’s going to ruin your life.”

              She doesn’t understand, and I don’t expect her to. I barely understand it myself, and I don’t know how I could possibly explain it to anyone else. I run my fingers across my neck, trying to de-stress. Cassidy’s house is stuffy, and I’m feeling cramped. I get up and lift the window, taking a deep breath of the cool, fresh air.

              Cassidy’s house abuts an enormous field set aside as conservation land, and far off in the distance is Stonehill High School. As I gaze out across the scene, I try to pretend I’m sixteen again, going to school with my friends, gossiping about nonsense, heading to a place where Joey is just a face in the crowd that I haven’t met yet, that I haven’t fallen in love with, who hasn’t betrayed and broken me.

              How different would my life be now if I hadn’t met him? I’d probably be married to Ian. Or would I? Maybe the course of my entire life would have been altered if not for that one day. The butterfly effect. I know it’s no use looking back, but anything is better than the choice I was forced to make earlier today. The choice of marrying a man I don’t love, or breaking his heart.

              “I can’t explain it, Cass,” I finally say with a sigh, wishing that I could.

              “I never understood what you saw in him back then,” she replies.

              “I know.”

              “But now I do.”

              I look back at her, wondering what she’s talking about. She has a sly grin on her face and raises one eyebrow.

              “He sure grew into his own, didn’t he?”

              I burst into laughter, the first time in days. Cassidy does have a way of lightening the mood.

              “So you noticed,” I say.

              “I got a quick peek before I left,” she confesses. “I’ll admit it.”

              “You should feel his arms,” I say, managing to squeak out a joke.

              “Honestly though, where is this going, Mia? Did he tell you where he’s been?”

              “No,” I admit, more to myself than to her. “I want to know…I do. I
need
to, but at the same time, I don’t want to know. I mean…it’s Joey. I know it sounds stupid, Cass, but when I look at him, I see him. The same guy I knew six years ago.”

              “You
kind of
knew him, Mia,” Cassidy corrects me, always the pragmatic one of us. “I mean, what if he’s like a serial killer and he was running from the cops all this time?”

              She also has a flair for the dramatic and a more than ample imagination. I scoff at her and close the window and slump down on the wicker chair in front of her. It’s unbelievably uncomfortable. I don’t even know why she keeps the thing, but I’m in too much of a mood to care. In a way, it’s almost more fitting with my mood to be pissed off at a chair.

              “Ian is a good guy,” she continues. I let out a huge sigh. “He
is
, and you know it, or you wouldn’t have been dating him this long. You’ll be happy together.”

              “Cass. Doesn’t this sound familiar?”

              She raises her eyebrows at me.

              “Back when Brad asked me out? Sophomore year? You told me to forget about Joey and that he was weird and stalkerish?”

              “Yeah, and then I supported you when you said you liked him, and look where that got you!”

              She has a point. She always does. It’s kind of annoying, actually.

              “Well, I don’t know what to say, Cass. All I know is I can’t marry Ian. At least not until I get some answers.”

              “So what are you going to do? Call him?”

              “I don’t…have his number,” I say, realizing what a predicament I’m in.

              I literally have no way of contacting Joey, and if he doesn’t show up again, I’ve done all of this for nothing. How long will I have to wait for him? It could be another six years, or more.              

              “So what are you going to do? Drive around town screaming his name out the window?”

              “No,” I say, shaking my head. “I’ll just wait. He’ll come.”

              “How do you know?”

              “I just know.”
 

              Later, as I sit alone in my apartment sipping cranberry seltzer and picking aimlessly at a bag of pretzels, I have to admit to myself that I
don’t
know, and that I’m freaking out wondering if he’s ever going to show up again.

              This has all become some sort of twisted game; Joey arrives when I’m on the brink of making a major relationship decision, screws everything up, sends me into a tailspin and then vanishes, leaving me to crash and burn. Yet for some reason, here I am, still holding out hope that he’ll return this time to pick up the pieces.

              It’s a cold night, and I’ve got layers on, and am curled up on the couch beneath a white afghan my mom knitted years ago. The windows are still cracked, and I should get up and close them, but I feel better with them open tonight. I don’t want to feel too safe, too secure in case Joey comes. I’m intentionally keeping myself on edge, ready for what might happen. The last thing I want is to lull myself into a false sense of security and then hear the knock at the door and have my heart explode or something.

              This is literally the worst thing I’ve ever had to do in my life. Sit here and wait for a man who I don’t even know is coming or not. And what if he doesn’t? Have I damaged things with Ian beyond repair? Part of me believes he will take me back no matter what, but part of me believes he won’t. What I did was pretty terrible.

              I look up at the Eiffel Tower statue sitting on my bookshelf. If Joey doesn’t show up tonight, I’m throwing it out. I’m throwing it out and moving on with my life. So what if he showed up? So what? There’s only so much of this I can take. How long does he expect me to wait for him? Six years for him to arrive, and then how many hours sitting here on my couch?

              The longer I sit here, the more and more I wonder about my decision to go on a break with Ian. As much as I try to rationalize my decisions, I feel out of control right now. I keep telling myself I love Joey, but do I? Maybe Cassidy is right. I mean, I don’t
really
know him. But I think what’s really killing me is that we never really got a chance. We never even got started before he vanished, and now that he’s back, I feel like we’ve been given a second chance.

              A knock comes from the door. Somehow I know it’s him.

              I open the door to find him standing there, hands in his pockets, looking totally relaxed. I hate that. How can he be so calm at a time like this? And what is with the backpack he keeps carrying everywhere?

              “Look who it is.”

              “Were you expecting someone else?” he says, a mischievous look in his eyes. “Can I come in?”
              “I want some answers,” I say coldly. He simply pushes past me like he owns the place.

              “I can’t give them all to you, Mia. Not yet.” Every word of his sends a physical sensation through my body. I’m on pins and needles around him, and it’s impossible to be really calm as we speak.

              “Why? Why not, Joey? How do you expect me to deal with this if you can’t give me something?” My voice is strained and the tension is killing me.

              I can see he’s conflicted. But about what? Why can’t he just come out with it?

              “Do you think we’d be married by now?”

              His words stun me momentarily, and I feel my nerves starting to rise within me again after I’d tried so hard to suppress them and remain calm. I clench and unclench my hands, trying to distract myself.

              “What?”

              “Do you think we’d be married? If I’d stayed.”

              I scoff at his absurdity. “You would have left me, like you left me six years ago.”

              “That’s not true, Mia. I wanted to be with you.”

              “Yeah, yeah. That’s just words, Joey.”

              “I’m here, aren’t I?” he says.

              “
Six
years later!” I shout at the top of my lungs. “So then tell me! Where have you been?”

              A silence comes over the room as he finally looks away from me. I can see he wants to speak, but something is holding him back. He isn’t even trying to hide it. After what feels like an eternity, he finally opens his mouth, but the words are not what I was expecting.

              “What are you doing bartending?”

              “Come on, Joey. What, what is this?” I’m feeling exasperated.

              “What happened to your painting? You gave it up?”

              People have been asking me this for years, but this is the first time I’ve felt actually ashamed about it. I don’t answer. There’s no need to. He walks over to the bookcase and looks at the statue he gave me years ago.

              “You never made it to Paris,” he says quietly. To most people in town, my dream of Paris is just that—a dream. A pipe dream. But between us, the idea carries more weight, and I can see genuine disappointment in his face when he says this. “Do you want to go with me?”

              “What?!”

              “To Paris. Let’s go. Tonight.”

              My heart starts to race.

              “Joey…what are you talking about? Paris—?”

              “Tonight,” he quickly steps close to me. He’s so close I can smell him. I stare up at his face, feeling like I felt in high school when we were just two kids, feeling love for the first time, a world of possibilities ahead of us. “I have a private jet waiting. We can leave now.”

              “Joey, don’t…don’t be ridiculous!”

              “I’m not. I’m serious, Mia. Come with me. I want to tell you everything. I do. But I just…I need time.”

              “Time. You haven’t had enough of that already?” I say, rolling my eyes, turning away. But Joey takes my hands and pulls me back to him. His skin is rough and callused, and his grip is strong.

              “Yes, Mia. Some…things need to happen, but when the time is right, I’ll tell you everything.”

              “Things? What things, Joey? What things need to happen for you to tell me where you’ve been for six years? Why you walked out on me?”

              Joey gives me a nervous smile, one I’m not used to seeing from him. He looks inward, like he’s weighing his options.

              “I’m scared of what will happen if I do.”

              “This is absurd, Joey,” I say, wanting to be mad, but looking up at him, my hands in his, feels so comforting and so right.

              “I just want to be with you again, Mia. I want the time we never had. And I will tell you, Mia. I promise.”

              I know I’m supposed to yell at him.

              Scream at him.

              Punch him, slap him, stomp my feet and pout. But I can’t bring myself to do it. I find myself smiling like a little lovesick puppy at the man standing before me. When Ian tells me he loves me, I know he means it, and I feel good, but when I hear Joey say anything to me, I just melt. This is bad.