Chapter 14 Gwen - Happy Birthday, Miller Caswell #2
I pull the candle and lighter out of my bag, sticking the bottom of the candle into the muffin, I light it. I guard the flame with the palm of my hand as I turn and watch the clock on the stove, waiting for it to switch over to 12:00 before facing him.
“Happy Birthday, Miller Caswell.”
His stare switches between me and the candle no less than four times. His eyes are wide, and his mouth is slightly ajar. He looks like a surprised puppy, and it’s the cutest thing in the world.
I hold the plate up, prompting Miller to do what everyone should do on their birthday. “Go on, make a wish.”
I watch his eyelids close, and he blows out the flame. When he opens his eyes, pools of bright green practically twinkle at me. That little freckle above his lip is taunting me. Miller’s face is inches from mine when he gently takes the plate between us and sets it down on the island.
He doesn’t make a sound, and neither do I. I’m stuck, captivated, by this ever-so-serious but secretly funny, determined and driven, soft but scrappy, incredibly smart boy in front of me.
I don’t think I could look away even if I wanted to. His jaw flexes, and I watch his eyes track my movements as I pull my bottom lip in with my teeth.
The air feels charged, and while I’m sure if I was watching this from the outside, I’d be able to catch up faster, the reality is I’m not. I’m locked in place, confused and hopeful and feeling a little silly because oh my God, imagine this is entirely one sided, and I—
Miller’s hands cradle my face, the warmness of them contrasting the cool metal of his ring that touches the back of my neck, and his mouth crashes into mine.
Thankfully my body moves instinctually since my mind stopped working. My hands wrap around his raised arms as he pulls me so I’m flush with his chest. I taste his toothpaste and chapstick and breathe in the scent that’s so inexplicably Miller.
His fingers curl into my hair as he kisses me deeply, and a sound I’ve never heard a day in my life escapes from my mouth.
Miller doesn’t pull away, but each kiss becomes more shallow as his smile spreads. His hands release my hair, and they start to roam. They lightly graze my neck, shoulders, and arms.
Once his fingers reach mine, they intertwine, and he squeezes once. Goosebumps appear in the wake of his touch and soon enough we’re giggling into each other. It feels like here, in the dim light of this tiny apartment, is the silliest, happiest place in the world.
I want to bottle up this feeling to keep for the rest of forever.
He presses his forehead to mine, and I place my palm on his chest, watching it rise and fall through heavy lidded eyes. Each deep breath he takes has him coming down from a high that I know matches my own.
I’m trying to not let my pestering thoughts of doubt and dread sneak into this moment, but I’m downright terrified to say anything right now and break the spell.
I kept this crush on Miller suppressed for months. I told myself a million and one times that attempting to pursue anything beyond casual cordialness was reckless, a mistake waiting to happen.
Things worked. He and Penelope got to live here, safe and comfortable. We had a good thing going with this friendship, and now I’m scared we just went ahead and fucked it all up.
Because after exactly one kiss at the stroke of midnight, I realize I can never go back to how things were before. This one kiss changed the wiring in my brain that thought it knew what a kiss was supposed to feel like.
Miller’s hands release mine, and when he wraps his arms around me, they find a home at the small of my back. It feels like he doesn’t want to let me go, and I have zero objections.
“Can I tell you something?” he whispers. I silently nod in answer, still too scared to speak.
“That was the first time I’ve ever blown out a birthday candle.”
“What?” I pull back, and I’m sure my face hides absolutely no part of how confused I am.
Miller tucks my head under his chin and shrugs. “We didn’t celebrate birthdays at home. And when Penelope was born, well, my birthday became hers.” There’s no resentment in his voice. He’d happily give up every part of himself for her.
“But that’s— Miller, it’s your birthday,” I argue.
“Listen, if I knew all I had to do was close my eyes and make a wish to end up in the position I’m currently in, I would have been lighting that shit up and huffing and puffing a long time ago.” I feel his laugh vibrate against me.
“Well, good thing we got this practice out of the way then. There’s another cake with your name on it for later. Penelope’s too, of course. But last year was the last time you ever go without a birthday wish,” I declare before muttering to myself, “Insanity.”
I hear Miller give me a harumph. “You ride hard for your people. Gwen. I wish you’d do the same for yourself.”
“That’s rich coming from you.”
“Eh, at least I’m self-aware.”
“Hey!” We finally break apart, and I instantly miss being wrapped up in him. I’m clingy as fuck within minutes. Attractive. Cool. I have this completely under control.
“I’m kidding! Sort of.” Miller picks up the muffin, pulls out the candle, and takes a bite. He breaks another piece off and pops it into my mouth.
We lean against the island, quietly sharing a midnight muffin, as if this is completely normal and a part of our day-to-day. I look around and my vision stops at Penelope’s bedroom door for the first time.
There are metallic pink and purple streamers hung from the doorframe to the floor that she’ll have to walk through to get out when she wakes up in the morning.
There’s a giant mylar balloon in the shape of a six with a half dozen Disney Princess balloons surrounding it, all floating in place thanks to the sparkly weight they’re tied to on the floor.
A banner is hung on the wall that reads “Happy Birthday, Penelope!” in a swirly pink font.
I have no fucking idea how I missed all of this when I came in earlier.
I look at Miller, who’s already watching me stand here slack jawed in amazement over the kind of dad this man is, completely on his own.
“You’re the best dad,” I tell him.
“She’s the best kid,” he answers.
My arms snake around his neck, and I lift my chin so my lips graze his, testing it out again, as if to make sure the first time wasn’t a fluke. But when he meets me in the middle, I’m reminded of how easily familiar this already feels.
We don’t talk about it, whatever this is, even though we probably should. Instead, Miller asks if I want to help him finish setting up the rest of the decorations he bought while watching reruns of The Office.
He signs Daddy on a card and silently holds the pen out to me. I pause. This feels like a big deal.
Is it a big deal? Get a grip. It’s Penelope’s birthday card.
Without further overthought, I sign Gwen (with a heart, of course) right next to his scrawl.
We build a pyramid of pink frosted sprinkled donuts on a platter, reusing the candle I brought. We stick it in the very top for Miller to light again when Penelope wakes.
I scooch closer to him on the couch when we’re done setting up, gladly cuddling up under the throw blanket he holds up for me to join him in.
It’s just for a few minutes—then I’ll go back home.
He kisses the top of my head once I settle, and I think about how this is the coziest I’ve ever felt in my life.
We drift off to sleep, tangled together, at some point in the very early hours of the morning. In sleep, I completely forget about driving back to an empty house and every reason I had prepared as to why this might not be the best idea.