I’m breathless from my speech, but I don’t think I could have gotten it out better had I organized and outlined and listed the pros and cons about Noah and Declan. My spontaneous sermon came from the heart and if it can convince me that I’m doing the right thing, it should be enough to convince Grace too.
“Do what you want, Mia. You’re right. I can’t tell you what to do. But this isn’t going to be all peaches and cream, you know? Declan’s okay with it now because he knows he messed up, but you won’t be able to string him along forever while you date another man. And did you even think about Noah? If you’re not careful you are going to make him feel used, especially when you wind up back with your husband—where you belong.”
My head is spinning and it’s not just from the hangover. Grace makes valid points, and my heart is clearly torn between right, wrong and just following what it wants to do. There are so many scenarios to consider it’s not even funny. And in all of them someone gets hurt.
“Grace, I need your support right now. Please, instead of the voice of reason can you just be my best friend?” I plead with her.
She’s always had a knack for getting me out of trouble, but this time I don’t want her help. I want her to shut up and let me do what I need to do. Is that too much to ask?
She places the note on the counter and returns her hands to her side. She closes her eyes, lifting her head up towards the ceiling—perhaps it’s a form of meditation, or a beckoning for some kind of divine guidance. After a deep breath in, she clenches her jaw, relaxes her rigid stance and lets out a long huff of air. When she opens her eyes, her expression has softened. “I will always be your best friend...no matter how much you screw up. And I would never make you go through all of this alone. So even if I think you’re making a mistake, I’ve got your back.”
I rise up from the table and walk over to hug Grace, realizing now that I’m still only in a t-shirt and underwear. Between my lack of clothing and my smeared make-up, I imagine my appearance has painted quite the image.
Grace finally takes in my appearance, shaking her head, but stifling a laugh at the same time. “Look at you. You dirty stay-out. Lindsey Lohan called, she wants her look back.”
“Really funny!” I close my eyes and lift my head to ceiling, taking in a deep breath. “What’s next, Grace?”
“So now you want my opinion?”
We stand shoulder to shoulder, as Grace searches for the right words.
“I can’t believe you’re finally dating Noah Matheson...as a married woman.” Grace’s eyebrows arch all the way up to her hairline as she shakes her head.
“Talk about bad timing.”
I reach behind us and pick up the note, manipulating it with my fingers. I smile when I think about being in his arms, kissing him. Nothing, not even the shame of today, can take away the sparks that flew last night.
Grace interrupts my beautiful daydream. “Wow, I haven’t seen you smile like that in...”
“I know, Grace. I shouldn’t be acting like a giddy teenager, but that’s how I feel.” A pang of guilt and worry overwhelm me. Am I making a colossal mistake?
I reread Noah’s words: last night was incredible...my only regret is that it took over ten years to get there. I can’t let another ten years go by living in regret. That’s what got us here in the first place—Declan’s regrets. Damn Declan, and his goddamn doubts!
I want to blame everything on his mistakes, but that wouldn’t be entirely fair. And if I’m going to be fair to myself I have to block Declan out right now. I’m sure I was the furthest thing from his mind when he picked up a random stranger at a bar. Declan and his stranger would have gone their separate ways after their secret rendezvous. At least I have a history with Noah. Then again maybe that’s worse. With Noah, there’s no denying feelings are involved. And the idea of feelings for someone other than my husband is scarier than a Stephen King novel.
Four days, three arguments with Declan, and two bottles of wine later, I am preparing for my first official “date” with Noah.
Declan is still in Hong Kong, and I hate to admit that I feel a little like the mouse getting out to play while the cat is away. But at least this mouse had the decency to inform the cat of her intentions. Doesn’t mean the cat was necessarily happy about it.
After deliberations that could shame the jury in the O.J. Simpson trial, Declan and I have decided that when he gets home he will move out and share custody with me, having the kids every other weekend. We didn’t feel the need to contact a lawyer or draw up a formal agreement. Declan keeps calling it a trial basis. I don’t have the heart to tell him that this may very well be a permanent end. Either way, the ultimate goal is for this to be as amicable as possible. The girls have already gotten used to seeing less of their daddy; we don’t need them asking questions. Especially when neither of us has the answers.