（Untitled）
“I swear you are the only person who watches Home Alone in July,” I said as I brought a tub of chocolate-chip ice cream to Mary. She was in one of my band t-shirts, bundled up under a blanket on the couch. “I can turn down the AC if you’re cold,” I said as she took the tub from me.
Mary shook her head. “No. I’m fine.”
“You sure?” I reached to check her forehead.
She swatted my hand away playfully. “I’m not sick, Milo. I’m just...” She trailed off, pulling the blanket tighter around her shoulders as Kevin McCallister screamed on the TV screen.
“Just what?” I settled onto the couch beside her, placing my arm around her shoulders.
“Simulating winter,” she mumbled, digging the spoon into the ice cream, not meeting my eyes.
I laughed softly, pressing a kiss to her temple. “Pretty sure Louisiana in winter is exactly the same as it is in July.”
She finally looked at me, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Shut up. You grew up in California. You don’t get an opinion on Louisiana weather.”
“I’ve been here for more than seven years,” I told her, watching the spoon disappear between her lips. “Pretty sure I’m an official New Orleanian now.”
“Nope. Still don’t have an accent.”
“Fair point.” I ran my hand down her hair, feeling the silkiness under my fingers. “So why Home Alone? Feeling nostalgic?”
“Maybe.” She shrugged, settling deeper into my side. “My mom used to let me watch it every Christmas Eve. We’d make hot chocolate, and she’d let me stay up past midnight.” Her voice went soft. “Before everything went to shit.”
I tightened my arm around her. Mary didn’t talk about her mother much — just that she’d died when Mary was sixteen, leaving her with a father who drank himself into oblivion and a mountain of debt she’d been climbing out of ever since.
“She would’ve liked you,” Mary said suddenly.
“Yeah?”
“Mm-hmm. She had a thing for musicians. That’s how she ended up with my dad — he used to play guitar at this shitty bar on Bourbon Street.” She took another bite of ice cream. “Before the drinking got bad, he was actually pretty good. Like touring the tri-states area good.”
On screen, Kevin was setting up elaborate booby traps. Mary laughed at something — the paint cans, maybe — and the sound wrapped around my chest like a fist.
“We should go somewhere,” I said.
She turned to look at me. “Like where?”
“I don’t know. Anywhere you want.” I traced circles on her shoulder through the t-shirt. “Paris. Tokyo. Fucking Iceland if you want to see the Northern Lights.”
“Milo, that’s insane—”
“Why? I’ve got nothing on the roster for the next year.” I grabbed the remote and paused Kevin mid-scream. “Come on, doll. When’s the last time you left Louisiana?”
She went quiet, staring at the frozen TV screen. “I’ve never left Louisiana.”
“What?”
“I’ve never been on a plane. Never had a passport.” She said it matter-of-factly, like it was the most normal thing in the world. “My mom got sick when I was fifteen. After that, there was never money for vacations or... anything, really.”
Something twisted in my gut. Here I was, complaining about tour buses and hotel rooms, and Mary had never even seen the fucking ocean outside of the Gulf.
“Then we’re definitely going somewhere,” I said. “Pick a place. Any place.”
She bit her lip, thinking. The glow from the TV cast shadows across her face. “You’re serious?”
“Maybe not about Iceland. The weather’s shit there.”
Mary set the ice cream tub on the coffee table and turned to face me fully, pulling her knees up to her chest.
“What? You can squeeze me dry for new Louboutins, but gonna chicken out because I want to take you overseas?”
She laughed, shoving my shoulder. “That’s different. Shoes I can sell if things go south. A vacation with you? Hmm.”
“We don’t have to go far,” I said. “Can go to Hawaii. Fuck — Canada, if you’re feeling adventurous.”
Mary studied me for a long moment, her green eyes searching mine like she was trying to figure out if I was serious or just talking shit. “Hawaii,” she finally said.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. I want to see actual blue water. Not the muddy brown stuff we’ve got here.” She smiled, and it lit up her whole face. “And I want one of those flower necklaces.”
“A lei.”
“Whatever. I want one.” She grabbed the ice cream again, spooning more into her mouth. “When would we go?”
“After the gig. It’s Friday, so we can catch a plane on Saturday?” I suggested, pulling out my phone. “We could film content for your OnlyFans. Mile-high, laguna fucking — whatever.”
“That could work,” she said, thinking. “Those vlog type things always perform well.”
I tapped my temple theatrically while I scrolled through flight options. “There’s one super early flight. Think you can wake up for 5:45?”
“In the AM?” Her eyebrows shot up.
“Okay, so that’s a no—”
“No, book it. We won’t go to sleep.” She sat up. “There’s the party after the show, right? Just gonna stay awake. Y’all probably can get some nose candy — or I can just snort a Monster and call it a day.”
I laughed, shaking my head. “You’re not snorting a Monster.”
“Why not? You’re sponsored by Red Bull? Because that can also work—”
“No. Because you’ll end up vibrating through the plane seat and getting us kicked off the flight.” I pulled her closer, kissing her forehead. “I’ll keep you awake. Don’t worry about that.”
She grinned wickedly. “Oh, I’m sure you will.”
I booked the flights right there. Booked a beachfront rental on Maui that had an infinity pool and private beach access. The credit card didn’t even flinch at the numbers.
She was quiet for a moment, then launched herself at me, straddling my lap and kissing me hard. Her tongue swept into my mouth, tasting like chocolate and something else — something far sweeter than chocolate — happiness, maybe. Hope.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
“Don’t thank me yet. Wait till you see if I’m a nightmare to travel with.” I ran my hands up her thighs, pushing the t-shirt higher. “Could be a total diva.”
Her grin grew only wider. “Oh, I think I can handle that.”