Chapter 24
When Zoey and I walk into the bar, my nerves kick up like a swirl of leaves in a fall breeze.
Miles is here. Somewhere.
I haven’t seen him since the night I offended him.
The bar is dark and crowded and loud, and a Billy Joel song plays in the background. Something nostalgic and heartfelt about
turning lights back on.
We make our way through the throng of people, toward the back of the space where tables and chairs are set up to face a small
stage in the corner.
It’s slightly less crowded back here, and I follow Zoey straight over to a large rectangular table.
That’s when I see him.
Miles is standing with his back to us, talking with a few other people. I want to either turn around and run straight home
or keep facing forward and run into his arms, but I’m not sure which.
I had him pegged all wrong.
Those women were his daughters.
His divorce was ugly, and it didn’t make him less kind.
“Hey, everyone!” Zoey says as we reach the little group.
There’s a round of hellos and a few curious glances in my direction as Miles turns to face us. At the sight of me, his expression
softens. “Claire.”
I don’t know what my face is doing—probably some weird hybrid of a wince and a smile—as if I’m aware that I’m intruding but also trying to be polite but also mentally shouting an apology but also trying not to swoon.
It’s a lot.
But then the softness disappears, replaced by a single arched brow and a grin that seems to issue a challenge. “Did you come
to get your butt kicked?”
Something inside me switches.
Game. On.
I slowly widen my eyes, then look at Zoey. “Definitely put me on your team. I need to show your dad how this is done.”
There’s a chorus of “Ooooh” and “Let’s go!” from the group, but I can’t seem to look at anyone but Miles.
He holds eye contact for several long seconds, then a tall blonde clears her throat. “Introductions, please.”
“Right.” Miles shakes his head a little, then backs out to the edge of this little circle.
“Claire, these are my people,” he says. “You know Zoey.” He points at her.
“I do. She’s amazing.” I give her a wave, and she makes a show of bowing in my direction like I’m royalty.
“This is Kevin.” Zoey grabs onto the arm of a lanky-looking guy with glasses wearing a Nintendo T-shirt and a pair of jeans.
Kevin shakes my hand, and the blonde steps forward. “I’m Ava. The favorite daughter.”
“Oh, whatever.” Zoey smacks her across the arm, and they make ugly faces at each other playfully.
“I’m Claire,” I say. “It’s so nice to meet you.”
There are three other people in the group—a woman named Kendra, her husband, Brandon, and another woman named Talie, who gives
me the chilliest greeting of the bunch.
I’m put on a team with Zoey, Kendra, and Kevin, while Miles has Ava, Talie, and Brandon on his team. As we get situated around the table, a waitress appears and hands me a drink. “Oh, I didn’t order this.”
“I got it for you,” Miles says. “It’s a Dr Pepper.”
Zoey and Ava exchange a glance, pursing their lips and raising their eyebrows, but I pretend not to notice. Instead, I pick
up the drink and cheers Miles. “Thank you.”
He nods and gives me a thumbs-up.
If there’s any sign that he’s still offended, he’s not showing it.
The waitress also hands Zoey a drink, and then a woman with pink hair jumps on the stage and taps a microphone. I take a drink
and listen to her as she explains the rules of trivia, which is apparently a call-and-response activity.
It’s obvious to me that everyone at our table has been here before.
Round one starts, and Miles looks directly at me. “You’re going down, Cake Boss.”
If I had my Cubs hat on, I’d turn it backward and wipe my nose with the back of my hand. Instead, I narrow my eyes, glare
at him, and say, “Bring it on, Lawn Ranger.”
Best I could think of in the moment. Nicknames for a landscape architect don’t just roll off the tongue.
By his expression, he’s still impressed.
The pink-haired woman, whose name is Gina, is the owner of the bar and an enthusiastic host. She’s also clearly obsessed with
three specific trivia categories: the TV show Friends, the Chicago Bulls, and rom-coms of the early 2000s.
Lucky for my team, I’m an expert on two out of three of those categories.
There are other categories—geography, history, pop culture, music, science, and it seems, a whole lot of wild card questions
that have nothing to do with anything, like “What was the first brand of bubble gum to hit the shelves?” (Dubble Bubble, for
anyone who cares.)
After three rounds, our team is winning by one point.
That’s when Gina tells everyone it’s time for a break. “This is when you all go buy drinks and where I make some money. We’ll
be back in ten!”
Everyone starts mingling, moving around the space toward the bar, the bathrooms, or outside for a little fresh air.
I don’t move and neither does Kendra, who’s been sitting beside me this whole time. Miles is talking with Brandon and Kevin
and a few guys from other teams, and I get the distinct impression that this man has never met a stranger.
“He’s pretty great, huh?” Kendra is watching me watch Miles, and I feel like I’ve just been caught.
“Miles?” I know it’s stupid for me to pretend her comment needs clarifying, but I do it anyway. “Yeah, he’s a good guy.”
She goes back to looking at him. “Everyone loves Miles.”
I can see that. There’s a crowd around him, and he’s telling a story that has both the men and women around him completely
engrossed.
I know she doesn’t mean for it to, but the comment is a welcome reminder for me. The wake-up call I need to keep my feelings
in check.
He could be with any single woman he wanted, but Miles doesn’t do relationships.
Think about Duffy. He’s perfectly nice. And stable. And kind, and nerdy, and endearing. And so very enthusiastic.
I look back at Miles.
Duffy doesn’t make my insides hum.
“Do you all work for him?” I ask, taking the last drink of my soda.
“Yep. Everyone except Kevin,” she says, nodding.
“Brandon and I have been with him the longest, but the company keeps growing. Miles takes on so many charity projects, he needed a bigger staff to handle the ones that pay the bills, so he’s hired a few more people the last couple years.
” She glances across the room. “A lot of the people at that table also work with us, but they have an actual trivia league, so they refuse to play on our teams.”
I chuckle. “There’s a league for trivia? With teams?”
She laughs. “Yeah, and apparently we don’t take it seriously enough. One of them told me that we laugh too loud and we disrespect the game.”
“They have matching shirts,” I say, noticing that every person at the table is wearing a red shirt with the words Risky Quizness on the front.
“Oh yeah. They don’t joke about trivia.”
One of the women glances in our direction and waves. Kendra waves back.
“That’s Julia,” she says as the woman stands and starts walking toward us. “She’s married to Bennett, the guy sitting next
to her. They’ve been friends with Miles since before his divorce.”
I glance at Miles just as he looks my way, lifting his chin and mouthing, You good? He’s checking on me like Lloyd Dobler in Say Anything.
I nod back and give him a thumbs-up.
“So . . . you’re the infamous Claire.” Julia slides in and blocks my view of Miles. “Bennett is convinced you’re going to take Miles off the market, and every
woman who’s been carrying a torch for him is going to be in mourning.” She laughs and looks at Kendra. “Hey, Ken.”
“Hey.”
My laugh is nervous. “No, Miles and I are just friends.”
Julia glances over her shoulder to where I can only assume Miles is still standing, then turns back to me. “All I know is
he’s turned down three plus-one dates in the past month—”
“Plus-one dates?”
“Oh yeah, Miles is the perfect plus-one,” Kendra says.
“I don’t understand.”
“He didn’t tell you.” She smiles and shakes her head. “Of course he didn’t.”
My frown deepens. “Tell me what?”
“He’s a plus-one,” Julia explains. “It’s a specific designation for people to attend social events without the worry—”
“—or the baggage,” Kendra interjects.
“And he lays everything out ahead of time, so people know what to expect. So if you’re single and of a certain age and you
have a work function or a family event or a wedding or a fundraiser or something, he’s the guy you bring with you. He’ll keep
his hands to himself, and he’s so outgoing, he could make conversation with a houseplant.”
Kendra twists her glass in her hands. “But in the last few weeks, he hasn’t made himself available for anything.”
“Well, it’s not because of me.”
The two women exchange a look, but they don’t say anything else.
“Miles goes on a lot of dates,” I say, certain of this.
“Yeah,” Julia says. “As a plus-one.”
“And because the women he helps pass his name around to their friends,” Kendra adds.
This can’t possibly be the only reason Miles dates. Right?
“He’s online. I’ve seen his profile on Matched,” I say, not quite ready to admit how wrong my impression has been.
Julia laughs. “Because Zoey and Ava put him on there.”
I had all the pieces, but I just crammed them together and made the completely wrong picture. Why didn’t Miles correct me?
“Miles doesn’t date for real,” Kendra says.
I knew Miles doesn’t do relationships, but I assumed he was a player. I assumed a lot of things about him, and I’m rethinking
every single one.
“Not since Elizabeth,” Julia adds.
Another knowing look and slight nod pass between them.
Elizabeth.
So she has a name. “We probably shouldn’t talk about her.” I lean to the side hoping to catch a glimpse of Miles, but he’s
not standing where he was before.
“Why?” Kendra frowns. “She’s not dead.”
“Though she deserves to be after what she did.” Julia closes her eyes and holds up a hand. “Sorry. Sorry. I crossed a line.” She opens her eyes,
puts her hands together, and looks at the ceiling. “Sorry, Jesus.” Then back to us. “I promised God I’d do better. I have