4. Chapter 4
Chapter 4
Rose
A half hour after the debacle with Milo, Blaine informs me he’s sending me home. I move to protest. It is my birthday, so it’s nice to be done early. But I need to finish my full shift. It’s still an hour until closing time, and I need the money.
But Blaine has spoken and there’s little I can do because I’m not in the mood to poke the Blaine bear. I put on my denim jacket, step out the back, and begin walking in the direction of my car, my mind reeling with all that transpired. That’s when I see Milo sitting on a big decorative rock on the outskirts of the parking lot.
“You’re still here?” I say.
He stands. “I—I wanted to make sure you were alright.”
“I’m fine.” I move past him, offering a tired smile. There are customers nearby, so there’s little I can say.
“Wait.” Milo is by my side in a flash. “What’s wrong?”
I don’t bother slowing down. Once the customers have closed their car doors, I answer. “Nothing. It was fun to mess with Blaine, but I have to go home now.”
I’ve reached my car, but I’m too fired up to stop pacing.
“Thanks for letting me act that out with you. It was fun.” Milo’s demeanor is easy, but his brows gather like two dark caterpillars on his forehead, inching towards one another. And okay, they’re not thick enough to look exactly like caterpillars.
They’re perfect, as far as male eyebrows go.
When I don’t say anything more, he cocks his head to one side. “Are you okay, Rose? I wasn’t going to sit there doing nothing, knowing he’s been giving you a hard time.”
“I’m okay,” I say. “It felt weird that you defended me.” I square my shoulders, the buzz from our ruse still pumping through me. “But it was kind of nice, too. People don’t stand up for me like that.”
“Can I ask you something?” He waits until I nod. “Why do you even still work there?” His arms go wide, but his voice is a whisper. “You’re obviously a strong and intelligent woman. You don’t have to take that kind of behavior from a boss.”
“I know, but like I said, it’s complicated,” I say, taking in the sorry state of my chipped nails in the dimly lit parking lot. “It isn’t permanent. I have a degree in biology, Milo.” I meet his gaze. “I’m going back to school to become a nurse. But as of right now, I have no other choice but to bide my time at Casa del Cibo.”
“A nurse huh? Wow.”
“Uh huh.” My stance. My voice. Everything about what’s going down here reminds me how my mom used to get with her ex-husbands, all three of them. She’s a five-foot-nothing firecracker, dramatic and stubborn. And she can flirt anyone under the table. And as much as I don’t want to be flirtatious with this nice, gorgeous, if not misinformed gentleman, I can’t seem to control my inner Tamela Hawkins. “I’m going to get there, too, it’s just going to take longer than I thought because not all of us can be pretty boy, trust fund babies . . .”
“Whoa.” Milo holds up a hand. “A pretty boy trust fund . . .?” He laughs and shakes his head. “You know nothing about me.”
I take a deep breath and smile. “Sorry, it just sort of came out.” My feet hurt, my breasts are still a little sore, and I may have just gotten myself fired. “You’re right. I know nothing about you.”
“Sounds like you’ve had a rough go lately?” Milo’s voice is kind, and he shifts his weight in his stance.
“You could say that.” I sigh, crossing my arms over my chest again. “And I’ve gotten to the point that I almost don’t even care if I get fired.” I toss a look behind me. “He sent me home early. I think it was a power move, or he just didn’t want to be reminded of the way I stood up to him or something. But I needed that money.”
“I’m sorry if I took it too far. It turned out to be more like an intervention and less like Punked . Is there anything I can do to make it up to you?” His eyes soften as he gazes at me. His apology seems sincere.
“It’s all good. It was my idea to begin with.” I pause, allowing myself a moment to like that I’ve caught his attention. “I sort of liked that you stood up for me.” I dig in my purse to find my keys.
I don’t want to go home. I haven’t had a babysitter outside of working hours for so long. I want to live it up!
But exactly how I would do that is beyond me. I’m tired, and I think my fun meter has been broken along the way.
Annoyance at my life flares up and I clutch the keys into my palm, grinding them against my skin. This may be the last night I get to myself in a while.
“You said your family all had plans, but what’s a guy like you doing out by yourself on a Friday night? What about your friends?”
And girlfriend?
In a different life, I would definitely ask him if he has a girlfriend.
“I’m in a bind and wanted to be alone to think,” he says, sighing. He kneads his forehead. “Gotta figure things out in my life. I’m trying to make a big decision.”
“Sounds ominous.”
He makes a clicking sound with his mouth. “It feels sort of like I’m on Jeopardy! and it’s the final question and the music is about to stop.” His lips bunch up. “So it is ominous.”
“What are you trying to decide? The meaning of life?”
He gives a polite smile. “I finished a joint program in May. I got my bachelor’s and master’s in business. I’m trying to figure out what’s next.”
I knew he was smart. I lean against my car and even though there’s a wide berth between us, I still feel it—a strong magnetism.
To be fair, I’m woefully out of practice. I haven’t dated since Blaine.
The thing is, Blaine wasn’t the jerk he is now. I thought I’d somehow managed to find the one man on the planet capable of being responsible, supportive, and loving. I thought I was so lucky, snagging the kind of relationship my mom and sisters hadn’t been able to have.
Turns out he wasn’t special or unique. He became the exact replica of my sisters’ baby daddies and my mom’s three husbands.
“Well, since you so unceremoniously caused me to get sent home early, now you have to tell me more about these decisions you have to make.”
“Oh, that’s how it is, huh?” he teases.
“Blaine doesn’t want me around right now. He’s manipulative and that’s one of his moves.” I wave him away. “But that’s beside the point. Spill the beans about your dilemma. I could help you. Since, you know, the jeopardy music in your head is winding down.”
He sighs and gives me this look like I know, right?
“I have two options of where to work and am having trouble deciding between them.”
I rest my hands in my denim jacket pockets. “Two job offers? That puts you in a one-up situation, sounds like.”
I like a man who is intelligent. And not only did he get an advanced degree, but he has two job offers? Color me impressed.
He leans up against his car—a shiny, white Jeep Wrangler—and hesitates. “You’d think so, but it’s complicated.”
When I make a face, he balks. “You told me getting a new job was a complicated subject and now you’re not letting me use the same word to describe my situation?”
My smile breaks free. “Good point. I would say to go with the place with the best breakroom.” I reach out a reassuring hand. “Trust me on this.”
He laughs. I don’t want to admit that I like making him laugh. “That’s your scientific answer?” he asks.
“Yep. I’m not saying the nicest as in the best furnishings and more modern décor because that’s not necessarily better. But what’s the vibe in the breakrooms? Unless you don’t know.”
“Sounds like you’ve been in your fair share of breakrooms, huh?”
“Don’t get me started.” I rest my forehead in both my palms. “So many.”
“You’ve switched jobs a lot, huh?”
I drop my hands and tilt my head to the side. “We’re talking about you, Milo. Focus.”
“What if I want to talk about you?” His eyes soften, and my stomach does a little flip, like a tiny gymnast resides in my insides.
“I’m infinitely boring,” I say. “But you?” I point to him. “You have a real problem on your hands, and the host of Jeopardy is just about to tell you if what you wrote on one of those screen thingies is right or wrong.”
“Is it weird that I’ve always secretly wanted one of those screen thingies?” His face transforms as his mouth widens into a smile.
This man has such a beautiful face, with his strong jawline and his dark fringy-lashed eyes.
“Is it weird that I sort of like how weird it is that you want one?” Oh no. My Tamela Hawkins genes are taking over again!
His grin is triumphant. “You like me, huh?”
Oh boy. I raise a finger. “I did not say that. I said I like—” I click my tongue. “Never mind. So tell me about the two companies.”
Not that any of this matters. After tonight, I’ll never see him again. I breathe in the temperate air and memorize the way the autumn trees in the park strip look against the blackened sky—scratchy, pocked . . . wildly beautiful.
“One is a financial solutions company, and the other is a hospitality company.”
I peer at him. “And do you know about the breakrooms?”
He perks a smile. “Yes, I’ve been in both breakrooms. The hospitality company’s is better.”
“Well, there you go. Tell whoever replaced Alex Trebek that the answer to ‘Where will Milo . . . insert last name . . . spend the next forty years of his life?’ is ‘What is the hospitality company with the sweet break room.’”
Milo visibly shudders. “When you put it like that…”
“Not that you actually have to work there for forty years!” I raise my palms. “But your prospective employer doesn’t need to know that. He needs to think you plan to live and die working for him.”
His mouth quirks to one side. “I gotta show my commitment, huh?”
“Exactly. Oh, and what’s the pay difference?”
At his scowl, I put up a palm. “Not that it’s any of my business.” I allow my gaze to go up and down him, ever so briefly. It’s only for show. The fact that I like checking him out is beside the point. “But, honey, you have expensive tastes. So maybe the salary thing trumps the breakroom thing.”
“Now you’re changing your tune?” He smirks, and the way he’s now appraising me makes me shiver. “How am I ever going to decide?”
“Don’t blame me.” I feel my sauciness coming back. There’s just something about being in the night air with the guy I very recently engaged in some low-key trickery against my ex with that has me feeling reckless. “Ultimately, you need to do whatever your gut’s telling you.”
“What if my gut is saying that either way is going to burn me alive?” A flash of agony crosses his face before he recovers into that sweet smile again.
I swallow and shake my head. He really is in turmoil over this job thing. “Well, then you say thanks but no thanks to both companies and walk away.”
“If only it were that simple.”
“Hmm. Things rarely are that simple, young padawan.”
“Padawan?” He makes a face.
After tonight, I’ll never see him again. Let’s consider the fun I’m having with him my one reward for a really crappy birthday. “I feel something of an obligation to inform you of the intricacies of the corporate world.”
“Oh, I’m well aware of the intricacies of the corporate world.” His gaze is warm, his voice is quietly rough. Something about his vibe tells me he’s well aware of the intricacies of a lot of things. And somehow, this very platonic conversation isn’t so platonic anymore. A tingle travels up my neck at his close gaze and gentle, knowing smile.
I push past him. I don’t know where I think I’m going, but I need some space.
“I’m going to let people down, whichever position I choose,” he says. “And I really don’t want to do that.”
I wheel back around, now that I’ve made a wide berth. “That is hard. I’m sorry.” I fold my arms and press them against my chest, which relieves some of the pressure I’ve been feeling. “What interests you more? Finance or hospitality?”
“Hospitality probably. But that position is less defined and there’s less opportunity for growth. It would be a lot more fun than the finance one, though. With the finance one, the pay is more, but the job is rigid, a more defined path with a lot less wiggle room. Higher expectations, for sure.”
“This is complex. I feel like I’m going to need a pros and cons list. Or a coin.”
“You think I should toss a coin?” His face is dubious.
“If it’s good enough for the NFL, it’s good enough for me. The power that a measly quarter holds? Crazy.”
“You like the NFL? What’s your team?”
I give him side-eye and bite at my lip. “I don’t think I know you well enough to tell you something so intimate.” Why does my mind race when I say the word “intimate”? I fail to add that we’ll also never see each other again after tonight, so why bother?
He might feel the weight of the word “intimate,” too because he stumbles over his next words. “I . . . I won’t hold your favorite team against you. I mean, I have mine, and anyone who can’t understand that is absolutely crazy, but hey, no big whoop.”
“You’re not a raging fan at all.” I widen my eyes in an exaggerated show.
A chuckle bursts out of him. “It seems we’re at an impasse. You’ve dodged every question about you, meaning we’ve made this whole conversation about me, which makes me feel horrible. My mother raised me better than that, Rose. And there’s a lot to say about this job. You ask a lot of questions.”
I grin. “It’s a defining trait.”
His eyes are hooded, his stare full of longing. “Oh, I think you have a lot of defining traits.”
My breath hitches—for only a moment.
I have to get the upper hand here. I can’t let this magnetic man suck me in. I bite the inside of my cheek to insert some sense into my brain.
It helps that some customers pass, requiring us to pause our conversation. I do a mental reset.
“So . . . about our impasse?” I say.
“I’m just saying in light of that and in light of me owing you for making your boss send you home early, my sense of duty is compelling me to ask you to walk down the street for some ice cream.”
My mind blips through the facts of my life as it stands—the trainwreck that it is. Blaine’s controlling behavior. Casa del Cibo and all it represents. My life being on the precipice—that somehow, I’m here, in this position, light-years away from where I thought I’d be at twenty-five years old. I don’t regret anything that brought Callum to me. But that doesn’t mean I should have to bear the stronghold that Blaine and his family have on me.
All of it is hitting the panic button in my mind.
I don’t want to go home. As much as I love a night to myself, reading science fiction and fantasy on my Turnip app, my favorite serial story sharing platform, it’s my birthday, and I’ve done nothing to celebrate. I suddenly feel energized.
Milo whispers a few notes of the Jeopardy theme song. “Duh, dum, duh da, duh dum dum…”
My sister is babysitting Callum. And I’m here, with red sauce staining my sleeve.
“Okay. Buy me some salted caramel STAT.”