Chapter 29
29
Millie
The last two days have been rough. I don’t know why Cam and Joey enjoy traveling so much. Jet lag is no joke. Ezra suggested I wake up at the time I typically do in hopes of acclimating quickly, but that all went to shit when I slept through my alarm and well into the early afternoon. Then, I had a terrible headache from lack of caffeine, so I compensated by drinking two cups of coffee, only to be up half the night and repeat it all the next day.
Finally, by day three post-Hawaii, I’ve gotten my act together. Only I don’t know what I’m powering through for. What am I even doing with my life? My work for LULU and the occasional audiobook are my only sources of income, and neither job pays all that steadily. Sure, I’m smart with money and could support myself comfortably using my savings for a few months, but then what?
Hawaii was literal paradise. All expenses paid—tacos, foot rubs, and nipplegasms, included. It’s hard not to wish I could be transported back.
While lazing my days away, I didn’t consider what I’d do once I returned to the city. I have a slew of messages from my agent about potential auditions; I should be grateful for the opportunities, but I let every one go unanswered. Because the truth is, I’m not sure I want to return to the theater. I love performing, but do I want to go back to touring? Packing and picking up every few nights was stressful, not to mention the havoc it wreaked on my body.
Speaking of bodies, I have a long way to go, but I haven’t felt this comfortable in my skin in months, and do I really want to fuck up the progress I’ve made by subjecting myself to the body shaming that’s deeply ingrained in the industry?
There’s got to be a way I can keep the magic of performing while preserving my worth.
Ezra invites me over, but I tell him I’m busy. In reality, I’m not. I just don’t want to be a distraction to Kane as he acclimates to his new life.
My brother and parents call, but I don’t answer. Instead, I respond via text. By day five, they’re no longer buying my jet lag excuse. After Asher plays dirty, sending a picture of my niece with a message bubble drawn above her head that says Answer your phone Lee Lee , I finally call.
“It’s about damn time,” he scolds.
“Hey, Ash.”
“How are you?”
“I’m good.”
“That’s it? You escape to Hawaii with a man , get a freaking blood transfusion, and all I get is I’m good ?”
“ Fine ,” I sigh. “You want the truth?”
Tone sympathetic, he says, “Always, Mills. What’s going on? ”
“I don’t know what I’m doing with my life.” A sob claws its way up my throat, but I hold it back.
“Want to know a secret?” he asks softly. “None of us do.”
“But you’re a dad and running a whole damn camp.”
“That doesn’t mean shit,” he laughs. “Don’t get me wrong, I love Bea more than anything, but she comes with a whole host of challenges. Keeping the retreat center and camp going is stressful. And the pressure to keep Daisy’s legacy alive is immense. The camp doctor, who’s been here since the center opened, just told me he’s retiring, so now I’ll need to fill his spot before next summer. If you know any doctors looking to moonlight up this way, let me know.”
“Cam’s sister is a doctor. I forget which kind, but I’ll find out.”
“Thank you. Speaking of doctors, have you made an appointment yet?”
Dread curls in my gut, making it difficult to formulate words.
“ Amelia .”
Oy vey, he sounds like Ezra. I chuckle to myself. “I will, I will. I promise.”
“Are you coming to Mom and Dad’s for brunch tomorrow? Joey and Cam will be there.”
I can’t deny that I’d like to continue hiding out, but if I don’t show up, my entire family will be knocking down my door. Plus, I could really use a Joey hug.
“I’ll be there.”
When we moved to the city, back when I was a teenager, we lived in a tiny apartment. Asher and I were lucky to have our own rooms, even if mine was only big enough for a twin-size bed and a shoe bin. Last year, though, my parents moved into their dream home. The corner apartment has three spacious bedrooms and a gorgeous view of Central Park. The upgrade means my dad won’t retire any time soon, but that’s probably best for everyone’s sanity—especially Mom’s.
It takes a little over half an hour to reach my parents’ by train, and within minutes, I regret not hopping in an Uber. It’s too damn hot. At least the Spanx under my sundress are saving my thighs from chaffing.
As soon as I enter the apartment, I’m tackled by the cutest four-year-old.
“Lee Lee,” she squeals.
“Hi, Dolly.” I scoop her up and swing her in a circle, Disney princess style. “How’s my favorite girl?”
“Hey, I thought I was your favorite girl.” Joey darts around the corner and hugs me, squishing Bea between us.
My niece remains glued to my hip while I embrace Dad, Asher, and Cam. I’m hit with question after question in such quick succession I can’t consider a single one, so I promise to answer them after I’ve had a drink.
“Mimosa or Bloody Mary?” my dad asks, taking Bea from my arms.
“Mimosa.” Rather than let him wait on me, I shuffle to the bar cart and pour orange juice and champagne into a flute, drink a little, then top it off with another splash of bubbly.
“I hope you don’t mind, but I brought a french toast casserole,” a familiar voice calls from around the corner.
Heart in my throat, I whip around. “Ezra?”
He comes into view, and behind him, Kane appears.
“Hey, buddy.” I immediately pass Ezra and wrap his brother up in a hug. “I didn’t know you were going to be here.”
“You what?” Ezra says.
Before I can answer, introductions are being made at the kitchen island, where handshakes are thrown out the window and hugs reign.
When Asher and Ezra fall into conversation, I pull my mom to the side. “You invited him?”
“No, you did.” She tilts her head, inspecting me like she’s worried I have amnesia.
“What? No I didn’t.” Who would have —“Josefine Noa Connelly,” I whisper-yell.
“Whoa, Connelly. I like the sound of that.” Cam appears at the counter.
Joey playfully smacks him in the chest. “We’re not married yet, silly boy.”
“You might as well be,” I say.
The two share a sweet, contemplative look.
In the silence of the moment, I remember why I called her over in the first place. “Did you tell my mom I invited Ezra?”
Brow furrowed, she frowns. “No.”
Huh. I actually believe her. “Then who?”
“I did,” my dad chimes in on my mom’s other side. “I wanted to meet the man who took such good care of my little girl.”
My stomach sinks. Oh, he took care of me, all right.
Across the kitchen, Ezra is crouched, laughing at Bea as she yammers on. The way his eye crinkles at the side is like a blow to the chest. God, he’s so good-looking.
As if he can feel my gaze, he pivots on the balls of his feet, still squatting, and locks eyes with me. He shoots me a quick grin, but then he quickly focuses on Bea again, holding an arm out so she can give his fist a bump. It’s then that I notice his ring finger is bare and my stomach clenches involuntarily.
He comes to stand in front of me, his bare feet bumping into mine. He’s wearing dark jeans, despite the sweltering temperature, and a sage green short-sleeve button-down with palm leaves stitched into an abstract pattern. The one I bought him at a boutique on Oahu. His curls are wild and free, and his beard is perfectly trimmed.
“Hi.” Though I’m hit with the urge to pet his cheek and revel in the feel of his scruff, a shyness like I’ve never experienced takes over. It’s ridiculous, really. We sexted, and I orgasmed over the phone just a few days ago, but seeing him in my parents’ kitchen is throwing me off.
He plants a chaste kiss on my cheek. The move could be considered platonic if he didn’t grope my ass at the same time. No one is behind me, yet I still scan for witnesses.
“I take it you didn’t know we were coming?” he asks.
“No, no. Of course I?—”
He arches a brow, shutting down my denial.
“I…” I exhale, my whole being sagging. “Nope. But I am glad you’re here. It’s good to see you.”
It’s good to see you ? For fuck’s sake. The man has taken you to Pound Town and back, and that’s all you have to say?
“How’s Kane?”
“You can ask him yourself,” he says, his voice kind and even. “But not yet. Right now, I want to know why you’ve been avoiding me.”
“I’m not avoiding you. I’m sorry if I’ve made you feel that way. I just wanted to give you space and?—”
“I don’t want space.”
My breath catches. “What?”
Tucking a strand of dark hair behind his ear, he clears his throat. “I mean, we’re, uh, we’re good. Kane is good. I’m good. We’re good.”
“That’s… good .” I chuckle.
One side of his mouth kicks up. “He got a part-time job washing dishes at Bubbe’s Nosh Pit.”
“Oh yeah?” Smiling, I find Kane, who is rearranging the magnets on the refrigerator with Bea. “That’s… good . ”
With a laugh, Ezra collects my hands and angles in close. “Hey, let’s not make this awkward. We said we’d see how it went when we got back to the city, right?”
“Right.” I figured we’d have more time to date and fool around before he met my family. Yes, definitely more fooling around.
With his hand at my lower back, he leads me into the dining room, which was a major selling point for my parents when they were shopping for an apartment. The table they chose for the center of the space extends to fit the entire group, plus some, and the floor-to-ceiling windows bring in a ton of natural light and give us an incredible view.
My dad and Asher flank Ezra at the table, and Joey forces me to sit across from him. She guides Kane to sit on my right, then plops into the seat on his other side. Brunch is served family-style, and each time one of us takes a bite of Ezra’s french toast casserole, a moan echoes off the walls.
“I hope you’ll share this recipe,” my mom says, holding her fork aloft.
“Of course, Mrs. Greer.” He’s speaking to her, but he’s looking at me.
I squeeze my thighs together at the memory of being called Mr. and Mrs. Greer when I was discharged from the hospital.
When he winks, I’m certain he’s thinking the same. “It’s my mother’s, so I can’t take all the credit.”
“You’ll have to bring her next time. I’d love to meet her.”
Heart lurching, I jerk my head toward my mom. She’s never shown interest in the parents of the people I’m dating.
“So, Kane,” my dad says. “What do you think about the Big Apple?”
“Dad,” I laugh. “No one calls it that.”
“I want an apple,” Bea shouts from across the table. She migrates from my brother’s lap onto Ezra’s .
Asher murmurs an apology, and Ezra smiles, whispering “no worries.”
“It’s loud,” Kane answers my dad’s question. “But it’s interesting. Thanks for asking, Mr. Greer.”
“Please, call us Ethan and Rachel.” My dad waves a hand, dismissing such formalities.
“So, Ezra, how do you like teaching middle school?” my mom calls from the head of the table.
Before I can ask how she knows he’s a teacher, he says, “Love it. Middle schoolers aren’t as awful as everyone makes them out to be. Hormonal, yes,” he chuckles, “but they’re beginning to form their own thoughts and opinions, and I like cultivating their young minds.”
“He’s being modest,” Cam interjects. “He’s in the running for an open principal position.”
“What?” I home in on the man across the table. “Since when?”
He dips his chin, smiling shyly. “I had a meeting with the board yesterday. I should hear back soon.”
A round of “that’s wonderful” and “congrats” circulates the table, and a sense of pride swirls around my heart.
“Millie, what about you? Any new auditions?” my dad asks.
“Hey, did I tell you Dr. Parsons is retiring?” Asher jumps in, saving my ass.
Thank you , I mouth to him.
Ezra’s questioning gaze burns against my skin, but I keep my focus averted.
“What? He’s been the camp doc since the beginning.”
“I know.” The crease between my brother’s brows has gotten deeper since I last saw him. “Oh, that reminds me.” He turns to Cam. “Millie mentioned your sister is a doctor.”
“She is,” he replies. “A family physician, actually.”
“She wouldn’t want to come work for me, would she? ”
“She’s working for a private practice, but I guess it wouldn’t hurt to ask.” Cam pulls out his phone, and the two exchange numbers.
Ezra ties his hair into a bun, still balancing Bea on his lap. When she notices, she asks him to put one in her hair too.
“What’s it called?”
“What do you mean?” He gives her a curious smile.
“My daddy does piggy tails and bear ears. What’s your hair called?”
He grins. “I’ve never heard of bear ears. You’ll have to teach me someday. But my hair is called a man bun, I guess.”
She straightens, her face breaking out in a wide smile. “Then I want a man bun too.”
As the group dissolves into laughter, the most adorable moment plays out in front of me. Ezra pulls an extra hair tie from his wrist and proceeds to collect Bea’s hair into a man bun.
“Tell me you’re not ready to have his babies,” Joey chirps.
I shooed everyone else out of the kitchen so I could wash the dishes and have a moment to myself, but Joey refused.
“I—I don’t.” There’s no use lying; she knows me too well. But I can’t even think about having Ezra’s giant babies with the doctor appointment I’ve yet to mention to anyone looming over me.
Before I left the hospital in Hawaii, I scheduled a follow-up appointment with an ob-gyn in New York. I fibbed to Ezra and Asher about it because they’d hound me for answers if they knew. If the news is not good, I want to receive it privately.
One look at my best friend, though, has me spilling my guts. I detail just how sweet—albeit possessive—Ezra was when I had my transfusion. How the doctor suspects endometriosis. And how I went down a WebMD and Google rabbit hole that led to the potential infertility.
“Oh, babe. You must be so scared.” She hugs me close.
It takes all my strength to hold back the waterworks as I squeeze her in return.
“When’s your appointment?” she asks, holding me at arm’s length. “Do you want me to come?”
“No, no. You’ll be in London.”
“You know I’d stay back for you.”
“I know you would, but I promise I’ll be fine. I need to do this on my own.”