31. Lara

Chapter 31

Lara

C arter’s retreating form and the downright sinful smile he gave me are still playing on repeat when I unlock the apartment door. He had some nerve leaving me high and dry like that, and I plan to make it known to him tomorrow.

I stop short in the living room at the clattering coming from the kitchen.

Mia.

The events of this afternoon completely threw me, resulting in no forward planning on the issue of telling Mia. Shit, shit, shit. I silently curse Harper for being out tonight; I could’ve used the buffer.

If I sneak past the kitchen and straight down the hall, I might buy myself some time to think this through. It might not be a great plan, but it’s the only one I have right now.

“Oh hey, I thought I heard the door.”

Mia’s cheerful voice almost has me leaping out of my skin. My hand shoots up to my chest, attempting to calm my racing heart.

“Sorry Lars, didn’t realise you were so jumpy. Are you good?”

I drop my hand to my side, trying to minimise the dramatics, and let out a small laugh. “Oh yeah, I’m fine, just didn’t hear you.”

Lie .

“You look like you’ve had a big day. Come, sit.” She gestures to the stools at the breakfast bar. “I’ll get you some wine. Have you eaten? I’m making Bolognese if you want a bowl.”

“That sounds great, thanks Mia.”?

Following her into the kitchen, I deposit my things onto the counter and take a seat. I reach down to remove the new heels I was breaking in today and stifle a gasp when I sit up and find her standing right in front of me, two full wine glasses in hand.

Mia gives me a stern look, placing one glass in front of me. “Okay, what’s going on? That’s twice in the space of five minutes that I’ve somehow scared the shit out of you without trying. I’ve never known you to be skittish, so out with it.”

My gaze drops to the floor, the white marble tiles becoming increasingly more interesting as I gather my thoughts. “I’d like to preface this by saying although I’ve spent all afternoon thinking about this, I haven’t got the slightest clue how to say it delicately.”

A half lie. Mia doesn’t need to know her brother edging me in our office boardroom is the real reason I haven’t come up with a good way to tell her this.

“Lars, whatever it is, just spit it out.” She lets out a sigh, as though what I’m about to say couldn’t possibly be that bad. Dread curls in the pit of my stomach.

“As you know, Carter and I had to go to Norcaster for a client meeting while you and Harps were in Mallorca.” I drag my gaze to meet hers, waiting.

Mia quirks a brow. “Yeees?” she says. “Did the meeting not go well or something?”

God, this is painful.?

“No, the meeting was fine. It actually went really well.”

“But . . .” Mia responds, urging me on.

“But . . .” I close my eyes briefly, huffing out a breath. “Long story short, Carter and I slept together.”

Mia’s eyes widen comically, her brows shooting up towards her hairline. Before she can respond, I hurry to continue. “Not like that! I mean, we had to sleep in the same bed because of the Winter Festival.”

“So you didn’t sleep with my brother?”

I hesitate for a moment but instantly regret it when Mia’s jaw drops open slightly, brows dropping down into a frown.

“Oh my god, you did.” Her voice is quiet, much too quiet.?

“No, I mean, yes, but n-not fully.” I’m scrambling, tripping over my words.

“You either did or you didn’t, Lara.” Mia stares at me for a moment. When I don’t respond straight away, she stands. “You know what, I’d rather if you didn’t clarify what ‘not fully’ means. I think I’ve heard enough.”

“Mia,” I plead as she rounds the buffet and returns to the stove, her back towards me.?

She places the wine glass down with force, drops sloshing out as she does so. “I just don’t get it, Lara. There are more than four million men in London, yet you go and sleep with my brother ?”

The emphasis on ‘brother’ has the dread I felt earlier turning cyclonic.

“I didn’t plan to,” I say quietly, but instantly regret it because it’s not true.

“But you did!” Her voice booms across the small kitchen. Spinning to face me, she raises her arms helplessly. In the time I’ve known Mia, I don’t think I’ve ever heard her raise her voice like this. I brace myself as she goes to speak again, but she must think better of it, closing her mouth and eyes. She stays like this for a moment and my heart stops dead. “I need a moment,” she says as she opens her eyes, far quieter than her last words. Mia leaves the kitchen, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

Sighing, I rest my forearms on the buffet, letting my head hang. The beginning of a pounding headache radiates across my forehead. I don’t know what sort of reception I expected from Mia, but I really shouldn’t be surprised—I can’t imagine I’d react much better if it were my brother.

I don’t know how long I’ve been sitting here when footsteps approach. Lead fills my skull as I lift my head, turning to see Mia has returned. Hesitantly, she wanders over and sits upon the stool next to me. We sit in silence for a moment, unsure how to proceed. Considering my actions started this whole thing, I decide to speak up.

“You’re right. I could’ve said no, could’ve done what I did with anyone else, but I didn’t.” There’s no point denying it. We may not have completely slept together, but Harper was right; the distinction doesn’t matter to Mia. Honestly, I was naive to think it would. “I know this probably isn’t what you want to hear right now—or ever—but I need to be honest with you from the get-go. It’s not going to be a one-time thing.”

“Oh my god,” is her only response. I don’t blame her, but my honesty right now is a must.

“I know, I know, there are four million guys to pick from, and yet I’ve chosen your brother. I’m not trying to make things weird, I just wanted you to know. I don’t want to keep things from you.”

“But why him? Of all the men, why my brother?” The earlier frustration has dissipated, leaving only perplexation in its place.

Why him? It’s a valid question, and unfortunately one I’m struggling for an answer to. I need to dig deep and be truthful with not only Mia, but with myself. There are plenty of hot men here, why can’t I pick another one?

“Honestly, no one has ever treated me the way he does. No one has ever had the effect on me that he does. At the risk of TMI, he cares in a way no man has before—about what I want, what I like, what I dream about but am too scared to ask for. In this way, he’s kind of perfect for me. But if you ask me not to see him anymore, I can respect that. I just really hope you don’t ask that.”

Bracing herself against the edge of the bench, Mia hangs her head and lets out a sigh. She stays this way for a few moments, unspeaking. When she lifts her head to look at me once more, she looks disheartened. Her brows are low, and the corners of her mouth are turned down.

“I would never dictate who you can see, Lars. I’m sorry for biting your head off. As I’m sure you’re aware, this isn’t at all what I expected when I asked you what was wrong.” She lets out a somewhat hysterical laugh before continuing. “But I know I can be hot-headed sometimes, and I’m very protective of my siblings, so I might have overreacted slightly.”

“Come here,” I say with a smile, extending my arms towards her. Mia leans into me and I wrap my arm around her, resting my hand on her shoulder.

“You have nothing to apologise for. I know you’re protective of him, and I respect that so much.”

“I just don’t want anyone to end up hurt.”

This has me pausing momentarily. I never thought Mia would be worried about that, given the nature of my relationship with Carter.

“I assure you, that won’t happen. It’s purely physical.”

Regret over my choice of words smacks me on the forehead as soon as I utter them. We cringe simultaneously.

“What I mean to say is I’m well aware of Carter’s public image, so this will never get to a stage where anyone would get hurt.”

At the mention of the media, Mia’s expression changes almost imperceptibly.

“It’s more than meets the eye,” she mutters, avoiding my gaze. “Regardless, be careful, okay? With your heart and his.”

With that, she gives me a half hug, bids me goodnight, and retreats to her bedroom. Mia’s bowl of Bolognese sits to the side of the stovetop, untouched. For a moment I consider taking it to her but think better of it. I’m sure she’s had enough of me for one night.?

Instead, I collect my own bowl and carry it into my bedroom. Once I’ve sat on my bed, I look up to the ceiling to fight the tears beginning to gather. All things considered, I think that went about as well as it could, but I’m emotionally spent.?

Thirty minutes later, with a full stomach and dry eyes, I drift off to sleep, grateful that tomorrow is a new day.