Chapter 6 Miller - Utterly, Totally, and Completely Fucked #2
Steph was one of the first adults who took me seriously and saw my potential aside from the judge who granted my emancipation.
She was able to look past the outside layer of a teen dad who grew up in a shitty environment.
She didn’t judge me for it. Instead, she encouraged me to keep up with my trainings and helped me make sure I was up to date on different opportunities.
“I get to work from home now, or wherever.” I motion to her cafe we’re sitting in.
“Ninety percent of the time. The other ten percent, I’m only there for big meetings or hands on stuff, it’s not often.
It lessens the burden of finding childcare for sick days and vacations, and I don’t mind the job. ”
“That’s so cool.”
“I’m a glorified nerd. Not sure many people would consider that cool.”
“Good thing I’m not many people then,” she retorts.
My fingers pause on my keyboard. Is Gwen…
flirting with me? I look to see her fingers lightly tapping on the table in some sort of pattern, those pretty lips tipped up.
She has her other elbow on the table, hand propping her head up at a tilt.
The dark smudges under her eyes are still there, but there’s also joy, no matter how small it is.
“That you are not,” I finally respond as I hit send on my last email.
“Did you always know this is what you wanted to do?”
“I didn’t have time to think about it. I had a small window to figure out what I was good at and how to make a stable career out of it. This was the easy thing that stuck.”
Gwen sits with that for a minute while I pull up the rental website to get started on my search for mine and Penelope’s new form of stable.
“You do everything for her, huh?”
“Yeah, she’s not exactly super independent yet. We’re working on turning six over here.”
Gwen laughs. “No, I mean you do everything for her. Every move you make is for her best interest. It’s really admirable, Miller.”
“Oh. Well, yeah. She’s my world. I’m what they call a helicopter dad according to Google. Which is where I get most of my parenting info, just so you know. But I don’t mind the title. I’m proud as fuck about it, if I’m being honest.”
She nods her head in understanding. “I’d be proud too. Now, can you tell me what had you coming down the stairs looking like the world just came crashing down?”
“It basically did,” I answer truthfully, focusing on the screen as I aimlessly scroll through what looks to be a very dismal results page with a whole lot of nothing.
I don’t want to burden her with this. Today is the first time I’m seeing a glimpse of the real Gwen again and fucking it up by making her feel like she needs to help us feels counterproductive.
Maybe knowing—or hoping—we’re close to the end of this arrangement is helping her feel more comfortable around me. I don’t want to go back on that progress.
She pulls the laptop away from me and glances at the screen. “Wait. Why are you looking at apartments?” She fully takes the laptop into her hands to get a better look. “And why is the search radius outside of Merrymount? Miller, what the hell is going on?”
“It’s fine, Gwen. I promise.” I try to take my laptop back but she’s refusing to let go, holding it hostage until I give her the real response she’s looking for.
“Are you…Are you moving? Did I do something? What about your old apartment?”
I sigh. Okay, we’re doing this. “Ernie—”
“Your landlord?” she interrupts.
“Yeah, he called a little bit ago. He sold the building.”
Gwen’s hands finally release my computer and fly to cover her mouth. “Oh my God.”
“It’s not great,” I say in defeat.
“But…” I’m watching her process this in real time, seeing the gears turning in her head, piecing together how she can single-handedly fix this. Because that’s what Gwen does.
“I don’t get it,” she continues. “Why are you looking at apartments? Especially ones out of Merrymount? You can’t be serious.”
“If that’s all that’s available, I don’t really have a choice.”
“What the fuck does that mean? Is upstairs too small? We could switch. You two can have my house or…I don’t know. Come on, this is stupid. You’re not moving.”
I shake my head. This is the complete opposite of what I wanted to do. I don’t want to stress her out.
“No, we just don’t need to be taking up your space anymore. We overstayed our welcome as it is. Gwen, you have no idea how much you’ve helped out. But I have to give Penelope a home.”
She winces, and I’m afraid I said the wrong thing. I do that a lot.
“Merrymount is your home,” she mumbles and looks down.
“Gwen…”
“No. This is fucking ridiculous, okay? I have a place. Here. In town. This is me officially advertising it for rent.” She puts her hands to her face to make a megaphone. “You heard it here first, two bedroom apartment for rent above Red’s Place!”
Chris, Merrymount’s favorite goofy part-time cashier and bartender, looks up from his spot on a barstool at the counter. “Really? I’ve been looking to move out of my grandma’s with no luck.”
Gwen scoffs. “Not you, Chris.”
His shoulders slump and he goes back to do whatever it was he was doing on his phone.
Gwen’s eyes meet mine again. “Say yes.”
“You don’t understand—”
“Yes, I do. More than you know. You think you’d be asking for too much. You’re so engrained to handle it all on your own that you don’t see those around you want to help. Let me. From someone who gets it.”
I run my hand through my hair, pulling at the ends. I put my head to the table.
Gwen waits. She doesn’t add anything else to sway me in either direction. She gives me the time I need to process all of it, and I could kiss her for seeing so much of me without knowing it.
Fucking Christ, do I want to kiss her.
I don’t let myself dwell on that often, but that thought is so Goddamn loud in my head right now, the only thing that pulls me back is hearing her do that little finger tap pattern on the table top again.
“Rent,” I demand.
Gwen smiles because she knows she’s got me. “That pasta you make, every Thursday night.”
“You do realize it’s just store bought sauce and pasta?”
“Don’t care.” She holds out her right hand, silently asking me to shake on this insanely imbalanced deal she’s offering me.
“No way. The scales are way off.”
“Fine. Can you keep helping with the dishes when you’re not busy? It’s like, my least favorite part of this place, and Margot’s slow.”
“You want me to bring you mediocre pasta on Thursday nights—something I’ve been doing anyway—and dishes…and that’s going to be the rent I pay to live in your apartment?”
“Yes.” There’s no room for an alternative in her voice, and her hand is still outstretched.
“I have one amendment.”
“I’m listening,” she coaxes.
“The Thursday dinner is no longer a drop off. The three of us will eat together, okay?”
I watch Gwen swallow and mull over how she’s going to respond. It takes her a couple seconds to internally argue with herself, but I don’t care. If we’re going to do this, I need to know she’s going to be comfortable having me around.
“Deal.” She nods her head once in confirmation.
“This is insane.” I grab her hand and fight through the charged current racing through my arm to shake on it and add, “Thank you.”
Her grip tightens around mine as she smiles in triumph from winning this battle. “You’re welcome.”
On top of unexpectedly packing up our entire apartment, I now have to somehow come up with a plan to tell Penelope the news of our new home without her physically combusting. The effort I’m about to put into that is pointless, I’m sure.