If You Stay (Beautifully Broken, #1)(32)

What the f*ck am I doing?

I almost thrust my hand into the toilet water to yank them out.

But then Mila’s face appears in my head and I am calm again.

I’m doing the right thing. That’s what I’m doing. And I can do this. I’m not a *.

I pad down to the kitchen and find my backup pills in the freezer, and I toss them into the garbage disposal, turning it on. I listen to it grinding up the pills, grinding away my escape from reality.

I even dispose of my sleeping pills. Anything that can be a crutch to me, I pitch. Except for the three bottles of whiskey that I have in the kitchen. I’m trying to turn over a new leaf-I haven’t gone f*cking insane.

My cell phone rings and I see Mila’s name light up. I smile and answer it.

“Hey, babe.”

There is silence for a second, as though the endearment caught her off-guard, but I hear the smile in her voice when she finally answers.

“Hey. Just calling to say good morning. And to thank you for last night. It was really nice. I had a fantastic time. What are you doing now? Did I wake you?”

I laugh. “No. You didn’t wake me. You won’t believe what I’m doing, actually.”

Pause.

Then she laughs. “Well, are you going to tell me or are you honestly wanting me to guess?”

“I was wanting you to guess,” I tell her. “But if you want to lack creativity, then I can just tell you. I’m turning over a new leaf. I won’t bore you with the details, but I think you’ll notice a change around here.”

Another pause.

Finally she answers.

“Pax, what do you mean, a new leaf? What kind of change are you talking about? Because if it’s something significant, I don’t want you to do it because you think I want you to. That will never work. Change only happens if you want it to happen.”

I chuckle. “You’re fairly wise for such a young little thing,” I tell her. “But I do want to make this change. You were right last night. I’ve used drugs to cover up emotions before-to block them out. Only a * does that. I can handle whatever life wants to throw at me. I don’t need a crutch.”

“Okay, one, I’m not much younger than you. I’m twenty-three. And two, I’m really happy for you, Pax. This is amazing. And I’ll help you in whatever way you need. If you want, I can recommend a therapist. I used one after my parents died. He was really good with helping me deal with the grief. But I’m sure he can help you with kicking this, too.”

“Fuck that,” I tell her automatically. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for that to sound rude. I just meant that I’m not an addict. I don’t need help kicking the habit. I really don’t. But thank you for the offer.”

Pause.

Longer pause.

“Okay,” Mila finally answers. “I can respect that. But let me know if I can do anything to help. I can listen if you want to talk, or try to keep you occupied, or whatever you need. In the meantime, would you like to have another date tonight? I have something in mind.”

“Oh, really?” I ask, raising my eyebrow even though she can’t see it. “And what are you thinking?”

“Well, it involves my shop and paint. Since we’re getting to know each other, I thought maybe you’d like to see what I like to do.”

I’m intrigued now, so I tell her that and then agree to meet her at her shop at 7:00. I’m supposed to bring take-out.

I smile as I head to the shower. If this is what being in a relationship is like, I think I can handle it.

********

Mila



[page]They say not to wish your life away, but that’s exactly what I do all afternoon long as I wait for 7:00 p.m. to roll around.

After I close the shop at 6:00, I rush up to my apartment and shower, dressing in a pair of jeans that fit me just right and a soft red sweater, a gift from him. This particular sweater has a plunging neckline and I don’t wear a camisole underneath. I can see the swell of my breasts as I examine myself in the mirror and a flush spreads along my cheeks.

“God, you’re ridiculous,” I tell myself as I dab on perfume. “You’re an adult, he’s an adult. You can dress sexy if you want to. It doesn’t make you a slut.”

And now I’m talking to myself.

Great.

At 7:00, I make my way back down the stairs, pretending to be calm while I wait for Pax in my shop. He’s right on time, thank God. I watch him walk up the sidewalk and quite honestly, he takes my breath away.

Tonight, he’s freshly showered again and wearing jeans and a black shirt that clings to his chest beneath his coat. His slender waist makes me ache to wrap my arms around it, so I drag my gaze up to his face. He winks at me.

My heart flutters as I unlock the door and let him in.

“Hi,” I say softly. He brings with him the cool winter air and his clean scent. I take a deep breath, then stretch up to kiss him on the cheek.

“Hi,” he answers. “Is that all you’ve got for me?” He grins.

I shake my head, rolling my eyes. “For now. Be patient.”

“Oh, I’m very patient,” he tells me. “Trust me.”

He stops in the middle of my shop and looks around. He’s so big, but he manages to not look out of place in the midst of all the delicate furniture, easels and paint.