Man of My Dreams(54)

Noah swivels around in his chair. His hands on my bare knees now. “Well to make bad worse, I have to admit this is the best date I’ve ever been on. Even if it’s technically not a date. And if it weren’t for your douche of a husband cheating on you and making one of the most beautiful girls I’ve ever known second guess her whole life...I would have dropped you at home because I’m not the type to go after what’s taken. But Mia, you are irresistible...you deserve better than a husband who takes you for granted because of his own insecurities.” He rakes his fingers through his short ashy blond hair, frustrated. “Ugh! This is nuts!” He gets up from the bar and he orders another round, before excusing himself to the restroom.

I’m speechless. What can I possibly say to that? That he’s right? That not only has Declan made me second guess everything, but now all this flattery and flirting with Noah has turned my entire world upside down?

I decide to do the most noble thing I will ever do in my life. It may be a mistake, the hugest, most monumental mistake of my life, but I owe it to myself after everything I’ve been through. I have to be honest. It will justify what I’m about to do. It will give me permission, in a sense.

I take out my phone and check the time. It’s a little after eleven o’clock on a Saturday night here which means it’s twelve o’clock Sunday afternoon in Hong Kong. He’ll be awake. He’ll be furious. But there isn’t much he can do about it from so far away.

I take out the phone and dial Declan’s cell number, hoping that Noah will stay in the bathroom long enough to let me take care of this. The phone rings one time, two times, three times—four and his voicemail picks up. Do I do this in a message? What choice do I have? At least I won’t have to argue with him when I tell him.

You’ve reached Declan Murphy. Please leave a message and I will return your call as soon as possible.

A loud, long beep blares in my ear and I stagger for a moment. But I get the courage to stand strong and get it out there, “Hi, Dec. It’s me...Mia. Um...I was hoping to catch you, but I guess you’re working or just...busy. Um...I don’t know how to say this, but...Dec, baby, this space is killing me. The time alone has made me think about a lot. And the distance...well, maybe the distance has forced me to realize things that weren’t clear to me before. What am I getting at? Ahhh! Why is this so hard? Dec, I need space. Even though all we have lately is space between us. But I’m drowning in what ifs and regrets and uncertainty. I need time. Time for me, time to be free, time to...” I see Noah heading my way through the crowd. I look for a clear sign that I am making a mistake; for something to end this call and erase the message and pretend it never happened. But when Noah’s eyes find mine, igniting a fire in the pit of my stomach, I know I owe it to myself to figure this out for once and for all. I can’t live in regret anymore or I’ll end up weeks, months, years from now hitting on a random guy at the supermarket checkout line. “Dec...I need time for me. Time as a woman, not just a wife and mother. I’m sorry I gave you shit for wanting the exact same thing, but...please don’t hate me.”

I close the cell phone shut, shaking. What the hell have I just done? When he gets the message he is going to freak out! I want to be more remorseful for leaving a Dear John message for my husband, but I can’t help being mad at him for setting this whole thing in motion. Fuck it! I’ve always done the right thing. At least I had the decency to give him a heads up before doing anything with another man. At least I’m not dishonest.

Noah sits back down next to me, handing me another beer. “Everything okay?”

I tilt my head back and drain half the bottle. “I hope so.”

Noah takes the beer out of my hand, reaching up to cup my face. “Mia. What’s wrong? What changed in the five minutes I was gone?”

Hmm, let’s see. I’ve decided to throw the last eight years out the window because of a curiosity inside of me that just won’t give up. “Can we go outside and get some fresh air?”

“Of course. You wanna go home? I’ll take you home.”

I push my purse back at him as he tries to hand it to me. “No! This night isn’t over yet and I’m not nearly as drunk as I want to be. So we’re going out for fresh air and then we’re coming back in here and I’m ordering a round of shots.”

“Okay? Why shots? Shots are usually for celebrations.”

Should I be celebrating my untimely freedom? That would just be wrong. Again, I’m stuck on how to answer him. “Just take me outside. It’ll be easier to explain with a clear head.”