26. Chapter 26
Chapter 26
Rose
Milo fell asleep on my sofa last night.
First of all, though, he fixed my faucet. I didn’t even realize he’d taken the wrench in there and next thing I knew, he was coming out of the bathroom, wrench in hand, making a casual remark about how the dripping should be fixed now.
I also discovered he’s a genius at building things. He figured out the crib in less than an hour. I stared at the assembly directions online, trying to sort them out, only to look up to see he was already three steps ahead of me.
It was hot. I like a man who can conjure things up with his hands.
The proudly independent single mom in me would be appalled with me right now. But she can keep her snippety opinions to herself.
After we assembled the crib, Milo fell asleep on the couch during our spontaneous Lord of the Rings marathon. I did, too, in his arms. It was perfection. I’ve never felt so safe and simply normal before.
The ratcheting anxiousness that’s plagued me most of my life was just . . . gone. Nowhere to be found.
I think I left it with those marinated artichokes in aisle four. And it was replaced by bubbles in my stomach as he and I put the groceries away once we arrived back at my apartment. And when he pointed to the box of spaghetti and said, “Rose is an—” pointing to the words “American Beauty,” I laughed and rolled my eyes. But the truth is, the way he treats me is like a balm for my soul that I never knew I needed.
The bubbles inside of me continued as I heard the man sing a lullaby to my son. He sang. A. Lullaby. It was silly and funny, but he sang it so softly and gently that Callum snuggled up on his shoulder and was half asleep when Milo gently lowered him into bed.
It was a Thursday night, and we both had work in the morning. Nevertheless, we ignored responsible sleep hygiene and started the first movie in the trilogy. We were well into the second one when we drifted off. At some point in the middle of the night, I woke up, my neck aching and my heart pounding as I realized I’d fallen asleep. I eased a sleeping Milo into a prone position, put a cushion under his head, and covered him with an Afghan blanket. Begrudgingly, I tore myself away from his side and went to bed.
This morning, when I woke up, there was a note on the table from Milo. He could have easily texted me. But he didn’t. And his neat handwriting on several sticky notes—I do not have nice paper like he does, so he had to improvise—is everything to me right now.
As are his eyes—sometimes soulful, sometimes dancing—the faces he pulls to make Callum laugh, and his broad shoulders and lanky body. All of it. All of him.
Dear Rose,
I’m trying not to be disgusted with myself that I had the audacity to fall asleep right before the Battle of Helm’s Deep. And I call myself a true fan!
He’s run out of room on the first sticky note, so there’s an arrow pointing to the next one.
I guess you fell asleep, too? Or maybe you went to bed after I zonked out. In any case, what really bothers me is that I missed out on spending time with you.
That’s the unforgivable.
And on another couple of sticky notes:
I look forward to hearing how Callum likes his new crib. And praying that we put it together in the right way. Maybe I should come over and sleep in it first to make sure it’s okay.
I laugh at that image. If he tried that, it most certainly wouldn’t be okay anymore.
Sidenote: Benson brought a stack of Fantasy novels with him from Seattle! I can’t believe my long-lost brother is a fellow fan. I about fell off my chair when I saw him reading one the other night. Made me like him that much more.
Can I see you tonight?
Love,
Milo Kazoo Tate
P.S. Those K names were good guesses, but no cigar.
P.P.S. Are you ever going to satisfy my curiosity over the ice-cream cone thing?
But this sticky note? I will save this one for the rest of my life:
P.P.P.S. Thoughts of you drift into my consciousness, and I’m lost in a deep warmth, Rose. You are the canopy for my loneliness. The hewn cup for my parched hunger. Your simple glance stops time.
I swoon. I have to clutch the back of a kitchen chair to keep from slipping to the floor in awe of this man and his poetry.
Poetic words about me.
For me.
For the rest of the day at work, I’m grinning like I’m fourteen and in love for the first time. Hoping I run into him. Wondering if I’m going to see his gorgeous face at every corner I turn. Thinking about kissing him again.
It’s been seven long months since the best kiss I’ve ever had. I want it to happen again.
I know. I know.
I shouldn’t. The distraction that is Milo Tate is becoming so much more. I can contain it, though, can’t I? When I move to North Carolina, I’ll be so busy, I won’t have time to miss him.
Right?
We text throughout the day and my perma-grin just keeps getting bigger with every flirty or funny thing he says. He even texts me a photo he took the other night of Callum blowing a spit bubble with the caption: “I can’t stand his cuteness.”
He texts me again, asking if he can pick me up from my place and take me and Callum out to dinner.
I respond with one of those GIFs that show a goofy guy jumping up and down with the words YES in bright, bold letters.
It’s nearly time for my shift to be over when I head upstairs to clean the loft room that Milo and his brothers hang out in—my last thing to do before the weekend starts. It’s next to Milo’s little make-shift office and I wish I could knock on that door and hang out with him instead.
Like the adult that I am, I choose to do my job, and I step inside the loft, my duster in hand, when I overhear voices in Milo’s office.
“So what that she has a kid? Maybe this will help him grow up.” It sounds like one of Milo’s brothers, though I have no idea who.
My heart starts to pound. Are they talking about Milo? Are they talking about me?
“Why rush, though? He’s barely twenty-five.”
That voice might have been Sebastian Tate’s, but I can’t be sure.
“Alec was twenty-five when he got married,” says someone else. “Age is just a number.”
Sebastian grunts and there’s a bit of a pause. “But it’s Milo. He’s the youngest. I hardly think he’s—”
“I’m right here, you guys. How about trying to talk with me?”
I take in a breath at the sound of his voice.
“Alright, alright,” says the first voice. “Sorry. Who would have thought that THE Gloria would be here? Working at Tate? I mean, come on Sebastian. It’s fate. Let it ride, you know?”
Gloria? Who is Gloria?
“Fate? More like she tracked you down and applied here because she knew you worked here.”
Bile rises in my throat as I take a duster to the light fixtures. Dust swirls in my line of vision. Is there some Gloria who tried to get a job here just so she could be near Milo? What are they talking about?
My go-to is anger. I have to focus on not trying to break my duster in two as thoughts tumble through my mind. I’ve been abandoned so much in my life that of course this feels the same. It feels like he’s rejecting me for someone named Gloria.
“I didn’t share where I worked the night we met.” It’s Milo’s voice. My stomach does a flip-flop. “There’s no way she tracked me down here. And though I hate that you now know who Gloria is and you think it’s your business to give me advice, I am in deep, guys.”
Hearing Milo’s voice does something to my anger, though. Hairs stand up on the back of my neck because there’s got to be more to the story. I don’t understand who or what they mean by Gloria, but suddenly, I feel inexplicably calm, nonetheless.
“Yeah, we know you’re in deep,” says the last voice I haven’t identified. It could be Henry, so I’ll go with that.
I rest my hand on the back of a chair, letting my weight sink into the soft leather. I don’t know who Gloria is, but something inside of me knows . . . knows . . . that Milo’s not two-timing me. There’s an explanation that doesn’t involve him being dishonest with me.
Which is surprising. I’m not used to that. I would have thought I’d be busting into the room with a demand to know who this Gloria thinks she is.
I’ve spent years trying to trust my gut. And right now, my gut is making it easy on me. For once. Because I know, in my heart, that Milo is in deep with me. There isn’t anyone else. He wouldn’t hurt me like that.
I breathe in and out, gathering my strength. Doesn’t mean I’m not going to ask him about it. But it doesn’t feel wrong. And so I’m good for now.
Henry’s still talking. “Sebastian’s right, though. There’s no harm in taking things slowly. If she has a kid, she might not want to rush in anyway.”
He has a point.
“Dude,” Sebastian says. “You are not ready to be a father.”
Milo and Oliver groan.
“Here me out!” Sebastian says. “You haven’t dated much, Milo. Rose is a single mother. She deserves to be treated differently than other girlfriends. You can’t do casual with her. That’s not cool to her or her kid.”
“You think I don’t know this? She’s specifically asked for casual, though. She’s moving away soon and doesn’t want long distance. I do, but I’m willing to be patient with where she’s at. Maybe, if I’m lucky, I can persuade her to continue our relationship while she’s in school.” I can picture the passion on Milo’s face. He doesn’t do things halfway, so I know his face is as much into it as his words are. “You know how I’ve felt as I’ve watched you all fall in love and get married these last couple of years? It’s what I want. I want what you guys have, okay? And I want it with Rose.”
There’s a moment of silence, and my heartbeat echoes throughout the room. I swear the Tates can hear it through the wall.
“You can’t know that,” says the voice that might belong to Henry. “Not yet. Don’t do anything you’d regret. She’s a nice woman. Seems to be great in all the ways. But how do you know she feels the same about you? She has a son, Milo. You two are about as different from one another as you can be.”
“Not in the ways that matter,” Milo counters.
“I appreciate that you like her and that her kid is cute and you’re feeling like you want to settle down like us.” Henry sighs. “But maybe it’s less about her specifically and more about the idea of her. You’re romanticizing the fact that she already has a child, so you can just jump right in and be like all of us.” Milo makes a sound of disgust, but Henry continues. “I’ve read studies on this. The youngest children tend to get married earlier than their older siblings did, just so they can catch up to them.”
Milo starts to protest and Oliver interrupts. “Let’s give him a break. Henry figured out the whole Gloria thing on his own, so Milo probably doesn’t want to discuss it.”
“We’re just trying to help him, Oliver,” I recognize Alec’s voice. “If no one said any of this to him so that it can at least be on his radar? Well, that’s wrong, don’t you think? We owe it to him as his brothers to say what needs to be said, regardless of how he feels about it.”
“And it needs to be mentioned that you and Rose had very different upbringings. That’s not a non-factor, Milo,” Sebastian says. “It can make a relationship hard.”
“Rose is phenomenal. She’s really smart and will become a nurse. She’s going to school in North Carolina this fall on a full scholarship.”
“Nursing school in North Carolina? Why not a local school?”
“Because of the scholarship, and because she’s brilliant and deserves the best. UNC has one of the top nursing programs in the country,” Milo says. “She was on that path when she got pregnant with Callum, and then understandably, she had to take a break from her plans, which, honestly should tell you a thing or two about what a dedicated mother she is. But she’s also dedicated to becoming a nurse. And she’s going to get there.”
Tears prick my eyes. I rub the spot just below my throat, trying to make sense of the ache there.
“She’s going to need a lot of money for that,” Sebastian says. “And a lot of luck to finish.”
“She’s doesn’t need luck. She’s strong and stubborn.” Milo’s voice is laced with agitation at his brothers. “She has a couple of grants that are going to offset some of the costs. Her entrance exam score was in the top three percent, you guys. Not that her journey will be easy, and there’s nothing about this situation I haven’t considered. I don’t care about any of the obstacles, though. We’ll figure it out. We’ll cross those bridges when we get to them.”
A niggle of fear creeps up my neck, and I pace to the other side of the room, near the balcony where I can’t hear them anymore.
I love Milo’s words, but they scare me. What if I let him down? What if he realizes I’m just a normal human being who’s going to stumble a lot along the way? And all this talk about bridges confuses me. I’m not crossing any bridges with Milo because we’ll be parting ways before we even have that chance.
On the other hand, Milo’s belief in me also emboldens me in ways I’ve never felt before. If someone like Milo believes in me this much, I won’t fail, will I?
I finish cleaning the room in a hurry and then zoom out the door before Milo’s office door opens.
I need to pick up Callum and pull myself together before I see Milo at six.