Chapter 25 Lucy
TWENTY-FIVE
Lucy
There’s something hard and heavy lying across my stomach. My first thought is, it’s Alexander, but Alexander isn’t here.
I pry my eyes open and take in the light-blue walls. My eyes land on a painting of a ship that looks like it could be in a pirate movie. There’s another picture of three snowy mountains, blown up and taking up most of one wall.
Glancing down, I stare at the heavy arm lying across me.
It’s attached to Miles. I slowly turn my head to look at him. He’s lying on top of the covers now, curled around me. How did that happen?
I purposefully came to bed, wearing warm clothes so I could sleep on top of the blankets to prevent any accidental touching.
But apparently, Miles moves in his sleep, because we’re snuggled together like we’ve done this a hundred times.
And it’s comfortable. I should move his arm off of me, but…I don’t want to. Instead, I close my eyes and pretend like I’m still asleep and just enjoy the fact that Miles is holding me.
I know it’s dangerous. I know I’m already falling for him.
When we get divorced, I’m going to be a walking shell of a human.
The way he looked at me last night and told me exactly what I needed to hear.
The way he supports me—the way he sees me…
I’m afraid it’s making me fall head over heels in love with him.
I bite my lip to keep from laughing as I remember him saying “our children,” as if we would have future children together in this fake marriage.
I would not abandon my children.
Alexander.
I have to get Alexander here. I feel like I did abandon him. I will not be my mother, even if it’s with a dog. He needs me.
That has me snapping my eyes open.
I gasp when I see Miles staring at me.
“You were smiling in your sleep,” he mumbles as he rolls away and glances down. “How did I get on top of the covers?”
“I lifted you.”
He snorts. “Now, that I’d like to see. Sorry. Didn’t realize I was a snuggler.”
He stands up from the bed and stretches, and I get to appreciate the view of a man with back muscles. And what a view.
With a jolt, I roll over and grab my phone from the nightstand. My alarm hasn’t gone off yet, so thankfully, I’m not late for work.
I leap out of bed and rip my sweatpants off.
“Whoa.” Miles’s voice still sounds like a moan. Safe to say he doesn’t wake up with a happy attitude.
“Relax. I have shorts on,” I explain. “But I figured Goldie would think it was strange if I walked out there, all bundled up.”
Miles nods and runs a hand through his hair, sending it standing up in all directions.
“Want me to go see if she’s up yet?” Miles offers.
“It’s okay. I’ll make us some breakfast.”
“I don’t want you to be late for work.”
“Nah, it’s all good. I don’t have to be there until eight thirty this morning. Besides, I grabbed the ingredients for eggs Benedict this week.”
Miles’s face lights up for the first time this morning. “Forget I said anything. I love your breakfasts.”
I hurry out of the room and down the hall to the kitchen. Goldie is nowhere to be seen yet, which I’m grateful for. I need a chance to recalibrate after last night.
I need a minute to reel my feelings back in and remember that Miles is being a good friend—not a good husband.
Thankfully, making breakfast keeps me busy, and Miles and Goldie walk into the kitchen at the same time.
“What smells so delicious?” Goldie asks as she comes to stand next to me at the stove. She’s already dressed in a blue pantsuit with her makeup done and her hair curled. I look like an absolute frump standing next to her.
“I should have asked what you like to eat for breakfast, but I’m making eggs Benedict,” I tell her.
“Oh, honey, I like all food. You didn’t have to go to all this trouble for me.” She loops an arm around my shoulders and pulls me into a hug. She’s a few inches taller than me, and I wonder if it’s her side of the family that Miles gets his height from.
“Lucy makes the best breakfasts, Grandma,” Miles informs her as he pours coffee into three different mugs.
I reach over and snag the Stud Muffin mug before he can.
“Thank you, baby,” I tell him with an evil grin.
He gives me a deadpan look as he grabs one of the two floral mugs and passes it to Goldie.
“How did you get so lucky, Miles? You mean to tell me she makes you breakfast before she goes to work?”
“Oh, no, not every day,” I tell her. “He’s not that lucky.”
Goldie laughs and walks around to sit down at the bar.
“Here, let me add some coffee creamer to that,” Miles says as he takes the full mug from my hands.
I’d give him sass, but the Canadian bacon is done frying, and it’s time to plate breakfast. Once I have the plates put together, Miles hands me coffee with creamer. In the tiny mug. I knew it.
He winks at me, then leans into the act like he’s going to kiss my cheek. Instead, he whispers, “What would a newlywed do?”
“Kick your ass,” I whisper back.
He pulls back and laughs loudly at that.
We sit down at the counter with Goldie and talk about the day’s plans.
Apparently, Goldie plans on leaving before we do because she has some shopping to do before she drives home over the pass. I worry about her driving on a narrow highway in the dark. The deer are no joke around here.
I learned last night that she and Felix, Miles’s grandpa, live between Sisters and Bend, and it sounds as though they have a beautiful place there. She somehow wrung a promise out of me that I would come visit.
“I wish I could stay several more days, but I really have to get going,” she tells me after we finish breakfast and she’s standing at the door while Miles loads her bag into the car. She doesn’t travel lightly.
“It was so great to meet you, though,” I tell her, and I mean every word of it.
She’s fun. I hope I get to be her when I grow up.
Miles climbs the porch and stands next to me.
“I’ll see you two at the camping trip!” Goldie says as she gives each of us a hug and a kiss. “I’m so glad I got to spend time with you. And thank you for that wonderful breakfast.” She sighs loudly, then hugs me again. “I’m just so glad he found you.”
She turns to leave, and Miles drapes an arm around my shoulders, pulling me into his side while we wave to her.
I wait for Goldie to climb into the car before I ask Miles, “Do you suppose it’s possible to die from guilt?”
“We’re about to find out. Feels like she just stabbed us both,” Miles mutters.