Chapter 14 Gwen - Happy Birthday, Miller Caswell
I’ve been arguing with myself—both in my head and out loud—for what feels like hours now. But when I look at the time on my phone, I see it’s barely been sixty minutes. Do I continue to sit here and torture myself until I eventually find sleep or abandon ship to run to Miller?
The distance between Mrs. Johnson’s house and mine used to feel a lot further than it does right now. Especially since the new assholes next door have no regard for quiet hours or peace in any capacity.
And while we’re on the subject, who the hell throws a baby shower like, months after the baby is born? And on a Thursday?
Stupid as fuck parents, that’s who.
I don’t know if this could even constitute a baby shower.
I mean, I realize that’s what the dumb sign on their front lawn says, and the table piled high with pastel blue gift bags feels related, but it’s well after 11:00 p.m. Music is still blaring from a speaker set up in their backyard, and party goers are still drinking heavily around a bonfire.
The last time I peeked out of my window, I could only recognize a few faces, some of Dean’s douchebag buddies from the police department and both sets of new grandparents who must be in town visiting for the occasion.
Other than that, it’s a bunch of randos who are probably only over there for the free booze.
Good for them. Real classy.
I aggressively throw my comforter across my bed and heave myself up to pace.
I’m wasting precious time allotted for sleep and rest, listening to the idiocy out my window. I’m pissed because I’ve been looking forward to tomorrow for weeks, and I don’t want to be spending it dodging yawns and covering bags under my eyes.
First, Miller and P invited me to crash their trick-or-treating plans. That alone feels like the highest honor. Then Margot mentioned a birthday party for the two of them. I’ve been in psycho planner mode ever since, one of my best sides, in my opinion.
After letting Penelope change her mind a good five or six times on costumes, we nailed a theme and decided to keep it a surprise for Miller.
I had to finally give her a deadline so I could get to crafting.
I got to dust off my old sewing machine that I used to alter my clothes in high school and tailor local little girls’ dance costumes.
I’m not judging Miller. He’s been doing his best. But this child only knows of costumes you buy at the store. Can you believe that? They will be homemade with love only from here on out as far as I’m concerned.
The cafe is already decorated for Halloween, so it made the most sense to plan for the birthday party to be there.
Penelope has no idea, and I think she’s going to lose her mind when she sees what Margot and I have conjured up with the help of our friends.
The cafe has been a do not enter zone for her since Tuesday and between me, Miller, and Margot, we’ve successfully kept lil P in the dark, much to her dismay.
I’ve had to cut most of my nights with Miller and P short to prepare, and that part hasn’t been fun, but I already know it’s going to be so worth it to see their faces light up. Miller obviously knows we have something planned, but when Margot got the go ahead from him, we tapped him out.
After Miller found and brought me upstairs the night Dean and Katie moved in, something cracked in me, like the walls I thought I had perfected weren’t so impenetrable after all.
I find myself missing the two of them when we’re not together.
I reach for my phone to shoot a text off to Miller when I see something that reminds me of either of them.
I run to Miller when something funny happens at the cafe.
I save my best treats for when Penelope dashes into the cafe after school.
The only thing I haven’t come close to is a repeat of that night. I’ve kept myself rooted firmly on the friendship side of my feelings. The dim lighting and stillness and familiarity of that apartment felt too personal, too close to something we couldn’t come back from.
The way Miller’s voice sounded when he asked why I always run away…It’s been replaying in my head on a loop. It was raw and sent shivers down my spine, tingling at the base. I know that if I landed myself in that type of situation again, I’d want to prove him wrong.
I liked his closeness and the way his raspy breath reached my neck. I liked how easily he saw me but respected me enough to let things be. I’m just too scared of so many things.
I don’t want to be scared anymore though.
An idea pops into my head, and it's the kind where if I try to leave it be, I know I’ll regret it.
I stop my pacing and sit on the edge of my bed, grabbing my phone from the nightstand and staring at it. Pulling up our text thread, I quickly type out a message. I’m half hoping Miller responds and half hoping he might actually be sleeping at a reasonable time for once.
Me
hi.
But of course he isn’t asleep. His reply appears not even a minute later.
Miller
It’s awfully late, Gwendolyn.
Me
were you sleeping?
It’s a dumb question, but I actually have no idea if this is going to blow up in my face, and now I’m stalling by asking a ridiculous, very obvious thing in hopes of coming up with a game plan.
Miller
You know, I’ve never been booty called before.
The sound that leaves my throat is the opposite of ladylike.
Me
and the streak continues!!!
Me
care for some company though?
Miller
Light’s on for you. :)
I thumbs up his text and swipe my favorite pair of sweatpants from my drawer. They’re bright red and say lifeguard across the ass. They’re silly and usually reserved for my rot on the couch days, but I know Miller won’t care, and they’re comfy as hell.
Massachusetts probably won’t see a night above sixty degrees until late May, so I grab one of my thicker hoodies from my closet, smiling like a dork at my post-it note door on the way out.
The newest addition is a doodle of three ghosts, the one in the middle being smaller. Miller’s handwriting—that somehow manages to get worse?—under it reads:
Me, you, and P??? :)
He thinks I’ll crack on the costume surprise. He’s wrong.
I make a quick stop in the kitchen to rummage through my junk drawer, grab what I need, and shove it into my bag.
When I reach my driveway and hear the distinct voice of an extremely drunk Dean, I stop dead in my tracks. His voice is a lot louder than it should be if it’s coming from his backyard where he should be.
Nope. No way. Not tonight, Satan.
I chance a look to my left and see Dean’s back is to me, his hand is holding his cell to his ear, and thankfully I don’t think he heard me exit my house because his slurred words don’t stop.
“Baby, baby, baby…” he coos into the phone, and I will myself to not gag. “No, nothing’s going on. Just some of my buddies letting off some steam on a Thursday night. Tomorrow night’s a big night for us. Gotta keep the pretty little women like you safe.”
Fucking. Ew. Everything coming out of his mouth makes my skin crawl. I have no desire to wait around to hear anymore of whatever the hell this is. His roster of mistresses is no longer my problem.
I very silently tip toe to my car when I see Dean round the corner of his property, moving further away from me, still blabbering away to whatever poor girl is on the receiving end of his bullshit. I start the car and leave no time for it to warm up, throwing it in reverse immediately.
My phone lights up, and I glance over at it when I get to the stop sign at the end of my street.
Miller
Cinnamon Toast Crunch or Fruity Pebbles?
Another text comes through.
Miller
Nevermind! You need to drive safe!
It doesn’t feel like I’m running away from anything tonight. It feels like I’m on my way to exactly where I’m supposed to be, and it feels really fucking good to know that.
The light is indeed on when I pull into the back of the cafe. And Miller, with unruly bedhead, bouncing his knee, is sitting on the bottom step of the staircase, waiting for me.
He jogs over when I put my car in park. I pop open my door, and Miller grabs the handle to hold it for me as I get out.
“Hey,” he says with the easiest smile on his face, and I immediately know I made the right call, ditching my place of doom and gloom for this.
“Hey there.” I turn around and bend over, leaning across the center console to grab my bag. When I face Miller again, I catch his head quickly snap up to meet mine and see him swallow hard.
“Miller.” I raise an eyebrow, trying my hardest to hold back the giggles that are trying to escape me.
He throws both hands up in surrender. “I’m sorry! The letters! They’re so big! And it’s— You—” He takes a deep breath, and I can no longer hold it in and let my laugh fall out.
Miller realizes I’m not even a little bit offended he was obviously checking out my ass and laughs it off, relief painted on his face.
“You came,” he finally says.
I hold up my phone. “I did ask first, right? I didn’t imagine that?”
“No, you’re right. You did. It’s just…”
I look at my phone screen again, checking the time. I don’t let him finish his thought before I grab his hand and pull him with me towards the stairs. “Let’s go, we’re gonna be late!”
“Late for what?” Miller’s fingers intertwine with mine, and it makes my whole body feel warm in the cool air of a late October night.
“I’m not ruining the surprise with three minutes to spare, come on!” I lower my voice when we reach the top and step into the apartment.
I leave Miller at the door and quickly skip over to the kitchen.
I keep my back to him as I assemble my surprise at the counter, reaching for the chocolate chip muffins I know are stashed in the fruit basket and plucking one out of its plastic container to place on a small plate I grab from the cabinet.