6. Chapter 6
Chapter 6
Rose
“It can’t be to reduce calories.”
Milo’s voice rings out behind me. I laugh and turn my head to give him a smile, but I don’t stop walking in the direction of Casa del Cibo. I shouldn’t slow down. I already said goodbye. Sort of.
If I leave now, maybe I can figure out something else to do to make the most of my birthday. But not with him. I can’t let myself feel any interest whatsoever in this man.
An uneasiness fills my stomach.
Some of my fight left me when I became a single mother. Again, no regrets. But it took me some time to get back to myself when I became a single mom so unceremoniously. I’d scored well on the nursing entrance exam and been awarded a scholarship at the University of North Carolina. North Carolina was pie-in-the-sky exciting. I was going to leave my old life behind and gain a new one, promising Blaine we’d continue to date long distance. Then I discovered I was expecting Callum. UNC graciously let me defer, even holding my scholarship for me.
But to go to nursing school with a newborn the following fall? I just couldn’t do it. I couldn’t imagine leaving Callum for so long each day. I didn’t have it in me. Part of me didn’t want to do something so rigorous when being Callum’s mom quickly shifted all my priorities.
My nephew T.J.’s death at the age of five from kidney failure was what changed my life goals. And having Callum didn’t change my desire to be a nurse. But I knew in my gut I needed to be the one to take care of him for his first year of life.
I want to spend every possible moment with him now, before I start school.
And now Milo’s Jeopardy! music is in my head. Like it’s burrowed into my brain by a swarm of earwigs, all chirping the tune. Pretty soon my time will be up. I’ve already deferred twice. They’re not going to let me a third time.
This feeling of desperation was why I went for ice cream with my handsome customer. Call it a quick little fling, of sorts, to brighten up my life.
“It’s not to reduce calories, that’s for sure,” I respond.
He’s caught up with me now. Did I slow a little? Probably. Do I regret it? That remains to be seen.
“Good.” His eyes are playful. Everything about him is playful. “Because you don’t need to worry about what you look like.”
I keep walking, rolling my eyes. “If that was supposed to be a pickup line, I feel obligated to tell you that it sucked.”
“It wasn’t supposed to be a pickup line.” He shoots out a nervous breath. “Not necessarily.”
We walk in silence. My feet hurt in my ugly lace-up waitressing shoes. And that baby in the ice cream shop was so adorable that my breastfeeding body responded the only way it knew how.
Milo’s got his hands jammed in his pockets. His pants and Henley are trendy. Expensive. I don’t know much about it since I don’t make it a habit to stalk brands I’ll never be able to afford, but I’m guessing it might have cost quadruple what my little get-up did. My too-tight, white button-down that’s pressing against my chest with red sauce on the sleeve—a common occurrence during a work shift. My little black skirt with a delightful dollop of Callum’s mashed sweet potatoes near the hem from when I fed him before I left for work.
I washed it off, of course, but I can still smell the distinct, almost cinnamon-like starchy odor.
The kid loves ‘em so that’s exactly what he gets.
What I’m trying to say is Milo and I are worlds apart. I’m the Maria to his Tony—if West Side Story took place in Manhattan and Tony owned the entire block of Maria’s West Side apartment complex.
Wait. I’ve chosen the wrong fairytale. We’re not Romeo and Juliet. We’re Cinderella. Except Cinderella can’t be with Prince Charming and she has a baby. And playing the role of her evil stepsisters? Her ex, Blaine, who plays both of the stepsisters.
But all of that— all of that—is beside the point because Milo’s a pipe dream. All that Milo represents is a pipe dream. Love with some sexy man is only a tiny flicker of a possibility in about four years after I’ve finished school and am a full-fledged dialysis nurse and Callum’s in a very non-pretentious but excellent school playing his little five-year-old heart out on the soccer field. Or on the violin. Or looking at slides of insect guts in science class. Whatever he’s passionate about.
Because I am not my mom. Or my grandma, my aunts, or my sisters. I’d love to be like them in all ways except one. We Hawkinses are fertile, and we have a penchant for falling pregnant by looking twice at some cute guy.
Milo and I reach my car and here we are again. Stalling.
At least that’s what I’m doing. Because it’s my birthday. Because maybe the thought of going home feels lame and so much like what every day for the next several years is going to look like. Uber responsible. Uber careful and future-thinking. Not at all rash, or fun, or free.
Milo opens his mouth to finally say something, as if he knows my brain is a washing machine of thoughts and fears. As if my brain is saying, Dear heavens, please don’t let any rash decisions be the death knell on my nursing school dreams. Again.
But Milo’s interrupted by a shout behind us. “Rose? Why are you still here?”
It’s Blaine. And there’s a slight slur to his words.
Great.
I press my eyes shut for a moment, steeling myself.
When I open them, there’s Blaine, his gaze bouncing back and forth between Milo and me, the cogs of his alcohol-impaired brain trying hard to sort out what this is.
Heck if I know.
Regardless, this isn’t going to be good. Because Blaine still thinks he has some sort of claim on me.
“Hey Blaine. You’ve closed up already?” I offer cheerfully.
He glares at me, shifts his glare to Milo, and then back to me. “You’re kidding, right? Our last customers have only been gone ten minutes. We’re still cleaning up in there.”
“Too bad you sent me home or I would totally be in there helping.” I offer a fake pitiful look. “Oh, but I like your tactic of coming out here to hide for a while.” I meet his gaze with fire in my throat. “So the others are stuck with the dishes and the bleach water for the tables and all that. Smart.”
It’s his M.O. He doesn’t think any of us have caught on.
“I needed something from my car.”
“Some more booze?”
Blaine growls and steps towards me. He calls me a horrid name and tells me to shut up. Milo steps in between us. “How about you stop being a—” He repeats the name Blaine called me. “—and leave Rose alone.”
Blaine’s chuckle belies his look of anger. “I think I just got your little joke. You guys actually know each other. And you staged that whole thing. You meant to embarrass me and my restaurant in front of the other customers, didn’t you?”
I give up a humorless laugh. “Wow, for being tipsy, you sure put two and two together.”
Milo reaches out a hand to halt Blaine at the same moment that Blaine lunges for me. For the record, Blaine’s never raised a hand at me. That doesn’t mean he never would.
And a moment of abundant clarity hits me.
I’m leaving this job. It’s going to hurt to lose the free, trusted childcare on the premises. Darla loves her grandson. And having my baby in the same building as my work? That’s not something you just walk away from at the first sign of surliness from Blaine.
But I have to move on with my life.
“I should fire you,” Blaine says.
“And I should file a complaint with the Better Business Bureau and the FDA because you tend to drink on the job.”
Blaine struggles to respond, his mouth moving wordlessly before finding his gruff voice. “I don’t drink on the job. Only in my office. Not around the food or customers or anything. And only on the weekends!”
Oh Blaine. How far you’ve fallen from the charmer I used to know.
“Be that as it may, you’re not going to fire me.” I toss a glance at Milo. “Should we go?” I gesture to his car, mostly because it’s way nicer than mine, but also because I want to point out how infinitely better Milo is than Blaine in every possibly conceivable way.
Blaine grimaces. “You’re leaving with him? I knew you knew him.”
Milo speaks up, shaking his keys and unlocking the car. “Remember what I said about the way you treat Rose.” He steps up to Blaine and sticks a finger in his chest. “I will hurt you if you ever abuse her verbally or otherwise again.”
Things happen so fast, nothing registers in my brain at first. It’s as if I’m on autopilot the moment Blaine’s fist meets Milo’s chin, near his gorgeous mouth.
The sickening crack of knuckles against a jawbone.
Milo’s reciprocating punch to Blaine’s nose.
Milo’s guttural, “Get in,” as he opens his own door.
I’m already around the Jeep and sliding across the seat when Milo starts up the car and lurches it forward, Blaine yelling, “Hey!” holding a hand over his nose.
Milo’s tires squeal as we zoom away into the night.