“No.” Mia fiddled with the diamond stud in her ear. “I love him back. I might love him more than I’ve ever loved anyone. But he wants arelationship. He wants to give this thing between us a shot. He wants to try for forever.”
“Thatbastard,” Cami swore again. Then, “Oh, wait.Whyis that a bad thing?”
“Because, even on his worst day, he’s ten times the person I am.” There was a hitch in Mia’s raspy voice. “He deserves so much more than me.”
“Nope.” Cami lifted her hand. “Let me stop you right there. I know I don’t know you well, but I’ve seen you at your worst. And I can safely say that you are brave and generous and kind. Romeo would be lucky to have you.”
“No.” Mia shook her head sorrowfully. “There are things about me that you don’t know.”
Cami felt her eyebrows knit together. “So tell me.”
Mia shook her head again and Cami sighed because she recognized an uncooperative witness when she was looking at one. Before she could think of what to say next, the bartender came by with two drinks. “Courtesy of the gentleman at the end of the bar,” he said.
The good manners Cami’s mother had instilled in her made her give Chin Dimple a smile of thanks. But she was careful to keep it from edging into a smile of invitation. After turning her attention back to the newly arrived drinks, she sighed. “Do you think we should tell him he’s fishing with the wrong bait? Why do men always think we want cosmopolitans?”
“Blame it onSex and the City.” Mia nursed her gin and tonic as she eyed with distaste the red cocktail sitting on the bar in front of her.
“Annndddd speaking of complicated love lives, those ladies wrote the book.” Cami threw a commiserating arm around Mia’s shoulders. “Why does it have to be this way, huh? Why does life have to be like a box of chocolates where we never know what we’re going to get? Why can’t it be like a bowl of cherries? All sweet-tasting and packed full of pleasure?”
“I wish I knew,” Mia whispered, and Cami thought for sure she caught Mia blinking away tears.
She felt a world of sympathy for Mia’s plight—even though she didn’t understand it—but her sympathy was overshadowed by the edginess that rippled up her spine at the thought of seeing Doc again.
She would never admit this to anyone, but she’dmissedhim since returning to Miami. And she couldn’t help thinking that’s what had kept her in such a funk the last few days.
Because I don’t knowwhyI’ve missed him,she thought irritably.Anytime I’m with him, I feel like I’m dodging emotional machine gun fire...
Chapter 27
The next morning...
Visiting someone in jail was exactly like they showed in the movies.
Mia had been careful to don jeans and a demure top because when she’d asked Detective Dixon about the visiting procedures, he’d told her she wouldn’t be admitted if she wore “revealing clothing.” She’d given her ID to a very dour-looking woman behind bulletproof glass. And then she’d stood chewing her lips while one uniformed officer waved a metal detector over the entire length of her, and another allowed his very determined canine sidekick to sniff her in places she’d have rather not be sniffed.
But now,finally, she and Dixon had their visitors’badges pinned to their shirts as they followed a guard down a long hall made of concrete blocks and painted a rather depressing industrial gray. Mia felt a momentary sense of panic when the guard stopped beside a door painted the same navy blue as all the other doors they’d passed and said, “The inmate is already inside.”
How am I supposed to do this? How am I supposed to face my own mother after she tried to kill me?
But then a wave of determination washed over her. And with it, came a sense of calm.
She’s the prisoner; I’m not. She’s not the one in control; I am.
For the first time in her life, when it came to her mother, Mia held the upper hand.
Dixon’s suit was rumpled as if he hadn’t bothered to iron it after unpacking it from his bag, and there was a suspicious stain on his tie that she thoughtwas probably maple syrup. But what his disheveled appearance hid was a rapier-sharp mind and a kind heart. The latter was there in his eyes when he turned to her and asked gently, “Are you sure you’re up for this?”
She nodded. “I need to look her in the eye one last time and know her for the villain she is.”
Dixon grimaced. “I’ll be right out here with the guard when you’re finished.”
“Thank you.” She offered him a tentative smile and placed her hand on the door handle. She didn’t count to ten; she didn’t need to. But she listened when Romeo’s voice echoed through her head, telling her tobreathe.
After raking in a steadying lungful of oxygen, she stepped into the interrogation room. Like the makeshift brig on the Coast Guard Cutter, the space was bare of everything except for a table and two chairs. The only difference was thatthisroom boasted a camera tacked into the corner. It’s piercing red eye blinked in seeming concentration.
Her first thought when she let her eyes land on her mother, dressed in an orange jumpsuit, her face free of makeup and her hair piled atop her head in a messy bun, was...she looks old.Her second thought was...And not nearly as intimidating as I remember.
Grabbing the empty seat, she found that for the first time in her life, she didn’t have trouble meeting her mother’s eyes. In fact, she stared into them, letting the seconds and the silence drag out. Feeling...not much of anything, actually. Which reminded her of something she’d read somewhere.
