Page 72 of Miss Behaved
“What did you forget, Mom?” I say, smiling.
“Monica?”
Steven’s voice freezes me in place. Why didn’t I look at the screen before answering it? Better question: why is he calling me?
“Please don’t hang up,” he says.
I lean my back against the wall. For the life of me, I can’t remember why his voice ever had the power to level me.
“I have nothing to say to you.”
“Moon Pie,” he says sweetly. The nickname that used to make me mushy now makes me sick. “I miss you. It was a mistake, and it will never happen again. I fired her.”
“You fired your assistant after screwing her?” How did I never see he was this big of an idiot?
“Well, it was more of a mutual parting.”
“Let me guess,” I say. “You told her she was the only one. Promised her the world. Then five minutes later you fell into an ex-girlfriend or a client.”
Steven huffs, either annoyed to be caught or surprised that I’m no longer blinded by his bullshit.
“Mon—”
I cut him off. “No. A week ago, I might have fallen for whatever it is you’re about to say to me. But I’m not that girl anymore. I deserved better from you. And I’m not accepting anything less anymore.”
I hang up the phone and smile at myself, giving a mental middle finger to all my ex-boyfriends in one move.
Looking into the mirror that hangs in the hallway, I push my wild curls off my face and make a pact with myself: No more settling for halfway. No more taking the comfortable route. No more living in the past.
Last time I lost Carson, my heart went into a cocoon. I’m not letting it happen again.
He’s there, and I’m here, and I can’t lose the next ten years wishing and waiting.
Closing my eyes, I picture Carson’s face behind my eyelids.
Even if I want you, I have to find a way to let you go.
30
Carson
ThepictureMonicatextedpops up on my phone. A downpour of rain over a dark, depressing city. One of the many reasons I left that place.
So why does her text make me feel like I’m not where I’m supposed to be all of a sudden?
At least she responded. After ignoring my attempts to talk to her before I left for the airport, I half expected her to block my number. Disappear like I did all those years ago to dish out some well-deserved payback.
But there it is, a picture from what must be her apartment. Books lining the windowsill against the backdrop of a sheet of rain. It hasn’t even been a day, and I already miss her.
A hand lands on my shoulder as I’m opening the door to my apartment, and it makes me jump.
“Bro, you’re home.”
I turn to see my neighbor, Brandon, shooting me a shit-eating grin as he slides around me and lets himself in. In the two years we’ve been across-the-hall mates, we’ve built a comfortable pattern of treating each other’s places like our own. Letting ourselves come and go as we please.
“I was about to send a search party,” he says. “It’s been a fucking week since I’ve seen you.”
“Hey, man, sorry. I kinda ran outta here in a hurry last week. Work conference.” I toss my bag onto the couch as he climbs onto one of the stools at the island.
