Chapter 15
January 6, 2025
“We should go for a walk,” Milo says as he peers out the kitchen window.
I look up from my phone at him. “It’s snowing.”
He aims a teasing smile at me. “And?”
“And it’s cold. It’ll be a slushy nightmare out there.”
“So?” he says, that teasing smile still in place. He shakes out his hands at his sides. “Come on, we’ve been cooped up indoors this past week because of the crummy weather. Maybe we should just embrace it and trudge out there.”
I groan, not at all in the mood to head out in this wintry mess.
Milo sticks out his bottom lip. “Please? Just, like, a half hour of walking around. Then we’ll stop someplace warm for a drink.”
I chuckle. “Okay. I’m in.”
He fist-pumps the air. I head to the closet and grab my coat. As I’m slipping on my boots, I wonder if the weather is what we end up fighting about.
It can’t be. That would be too cute. Like something out of a Hallmark movie.
It’s a slushy trudge through the neighborhood.
“See? Told you this would be an absolute blast.” Milo laughs and tugs at his beanie, which is covered in fat snowflakes. “Better than a walk on the beach, right?”
I laugh. We make it to a pub, and Milo rushes ahead to grab the door for me. When I peer around the dimly lit space, I’m surprised it’s so crowded on a day when the weather is so bad.
“Guess we weren’t the only ones aching to get out for a bit,” Milo says.
We find an empty booth near the back. He heads to the bar and returns with a pint for himself and a mug of something steaming for me.
“Hot toddy,” he says when he sets it in front of me.
I thank him and take a long sip, humming at the rich and satisfying taste. Just then I’m jolted by a shriek-laugh noise in the booth behind us. I frown while Milo winces.
“Damn. They sound like they’re having a good time,” Milo says.
I chuckle and start to say something, but I trail off when I hear what they’re talking about.
“I just feel so guilty, how we started out,” a gentle voice says. “I mean, by all accounts it was cheating. Plain and simple. I was the other woman for months and months. Until I ... well, you know.”
“Oh, hon, don’t beat yourself up about it. You weren’t the other woman. You were the right woman. Tristan just took a while to figure it out.”
That sip of hot toddy settles like acid in my belly. When I look at Milo, his cheery expression melts from his face. He goes pale.
“I chalk it up to first-marriage syndrome,” a woman with an Australian accent says. “Some men just need to get that first one out of their systems, hey. His ex was a lingerie model, right? Not many red-blooded men can resist a pretty tart, as sad as that is.”
A chorus of murmured agreeing noises follows.
“The important part is who he ended up with. And that’s you, Carly. Maybe it wasn’t the neat-and-tidy fairy-tale love story, but it ended up that way. Now you’ve got a boyfriend and a baby and your dream house in Hampstead. You came out on top, hon.”
It feels like a million tiny, invisible needles are stabbing into my skin. A second ago I was chilly, but now the heat of shame has consumed me as I sit here and listen to Carly and her friends talk shit about me, unaware that I’m sitting right behind them and can hear every word they spew.
When I glance up at Milo, he’s clenching his jaw, death-glaring his pint glass. I notice he’s gripping it so hard, his knuckles are white.
When he looks at me, raw pity paints his gaze and his expression.
Carly’s crew lets out another shriek-laugh. Milo’s eyebrows crash together. “Enough of this,” he mutters.
He bolts up from our table. “Milo, don’t,” I say. But he clears the few steps to their booth in a second.
I twist around and see him standing at their booth. He smiles at them, and for a second I’m jolted. That’s the same smile he used to give Tristan and me. That taunting, insincere smirk.
“Ladies. I couldn’t help but overhear your lively chat.”
A few of them chuckle, clearly dazzled by Milo’s handsome sudden appearance.
“Milo? What are you doing here?” I hear Carly say.
“I just had to stop by and say that your friends are some of the most classless assholes I’ve had the displeasure of sitting next to.”
My jaw plummets to the floor at what Milo has just said. I hear some of them gasp.
“Milo, how dare you speak to my friends like that,” Carly bites.
He lets out a bitter laugh. “Carly, I’ve always been cordial to you. And if I happen to see you after this at some family event or with your baby, I’ll be cordial again. But I’m sure as hell not going to be cordial while you and your friends loudly shit-talk Riley within earshot of us.”
Silence follows. It’s then that I realize just how fast my heart is beating. And the fact that almost the entire pub has gone quiet as they watch Milo go off on Carly’s table of friends. All of them peer over at me, and that “needle in my skin” feeling intensifies. We’re a sideshow. Great.
Anxiety sweat seeps through my pores.
“Riley hasn’t uttered a single negative word about you this whole time. Did you realize that?” Milo says.
There’s no response, only silence. I hold my breath as I wait to see if Carly or any of her friends attempt to reply. But as the seconds crawl by, still nothing.
Milo shakes his head. “Pathetic.”
He starts to leave but stops and turns back around to Carly. “You should probably start getting regular STI checks now that you’re with Tristan. He’s not the most faithful guy on the planet. What a lucky lady you are to land a catch like him.”
Someone sitting in their booth gasps. Milo walks back to me, grabs his pint glass, and downs half of it. He grabs his coat, clearly a silent proclamation for us to get the hell out of here. My stomach is so knotted, I don’t even bother to drink any more of my hot toddy. I grab my coat and yank it on. My face burns as I walk toward the entrance, feeling every stare from Carly and her crew like laser beams searing my skin.
I shove through the door and walk as fast as I can along the slushy sidewalk.
“Riley, wait!” Milo calls behind me.
I don’t bother to stop, though. I can’t. I’m too upset, too humiliated.
I don’t slow down until I feel a gentle hand on my shoulder. “Riley, would you hold on?”
I spin around and look up at Milo. His cheeks are flushed as he catches his breath.
“What’s wrong?” He scans my face, like he’s worried about me.
I shake my head, the frustration bubbling in my chest like lava. “Why did you cause such a scene?”
He stands there, his mouth agape, like he can’t fathom why in the world I would be upset.
“Wait, are you mad at me?”
I let out an exasperated laugh. “Yeah, Milo. I’m pissed. That was fucking humiliating.”
He holds up his gloved hands like he’s surrendering. “Whoa, whoa, hang on a second. You think I am the one who humiliated you? Not Carly and her friends?”
I press my eyes shut and tug a hand through my hair, which is covered in snowflakes.
“Carly and her friends were assholes. But god, Milo. You made it worse. Everyone in the pub was staring at us like we were a Jerry Springer segment.”
“So?” Milo says without missing a beat.
I let out another laugh of pure disbelief. “Do you really not understand why I’m upset?”
He exhales. “I really don’t, Riley. I thought I was doing the right thing, sticking up for you.”
“Milo, this is a fucked-up situation. You’re in a relationship with your cousin’s ex-wife. You think getting into a public fight is going to make family gatherings and holiday dinners easier? It’s going to be a million times more awkward now. Sometimes it’s better to just ignore the crap and keep the peace.”
Milo blinks like he doesn’t understand a word I’m saying. A beat passes. His frown eases as he gazes at me. He takes a step toward me, the look on his face sad, bordering on pitying.
“Riley. If you want a guy who just stands on the sidelines when you’re being insulted, you’re with the wrong one.” He pauses to swallow. “I know Tristan didn’t stand up for you around his family— our family. And when it happened, I stood by and bit my tongue, too, because it wasn’t my business. But now that we’re together, it is my business. I don’t care who it is. I don’t care how awkward it makes family dinners or gatherings or holidays or whatever. I’ll always defend you.”
He walks off in the direction of the flat, leaving me stunned on the sidewalk as I realize just how wrong I was to get upset at him.
I spend an hour walking around the neighborhood, going over everything that happened tonight. By the time I make it home, Milo is in bed. I shed my soaking-wet coat and hang it up by the fireplace to dry. As quietly as I can, I walk into the darkened hallway to the primary bathroom.
As hot water rains around me, I think about everything Milo said, and everything I said when we argued outside the pub.
He was right.
The moment he walked away, I knew he was right.
I think about how, in the three years we were together, Tristan hardly ever defended me when his mom or grandparents would lob some insult or underhanded comment at me. Or ignore me.
I think about how badly it stung that first time ... and how I pushed aside my feelings, my urge to confront Tristan, just to keep the peace. Just to fit in with a family that didn’t want me in the first place.
That shame from earlier roasts me from the inside out again. Only this time I’m embarrassed at myself. At how long I put up with that. At how it warped my sense of right and wrong. At how my first instinct was to lash out at Milo when he defended me instead of feeling happy to be with someone who would stand up for me without a second thought.
I think of what Nesta said, how Milo stood up for me to his grandparents. Was he as angry and bold with them as he was with Carly and her friends?
If he was, I’m blown away. He’s incredible not to let who he’s standing up to affect how he reacts.
I close my eyes, savoring the hot water as it pummels my body. When I finish washing up and rinsing, I turn off the water. I dry off and get ready for bed.
I slip on my pajamas and crawl into bed beside Milo, my heart racing. His back is facing me. I slide my arms around him and hug him from behind. I feel him stiffen underneath my embrace. His breathing changes from the steady rhythm of sleep to a long inhale. He’s awake.
I kiss his bare shoulder and whisper, “I’m sorry.”
“I’m sorry too,” he murmurs, his voice soft and low and thick with sleep. “I shouldn’t have gotten so upset. If you really want me to back off when—”
“I don’t want that,” I say, cutting him off. I hug him tight. “I’m not used to having my partner defend me. It threw me off. I realize now how messed up that is. And I don’t want to be like that anymore. I liked that you stood up for me, Milo. It meant everything. Thank you.”
He lets out a slow hiss of breath before turning over to face me. By now my eyes have adjusted to the darkness, and I can make out Milo’s open expression, the tender look in his eyes.
I cup his face in my hands and pull his mouth to mine. I press a soft kiss to his lips. I don’t pull away; I let my mouth linger. I savor the soft feel of his lips, the warmth of his skin, the soft hum he makes. It feels good. Really, really good.
I probably shouldn’t be doing this. But I don’t care. For a long time I did everything I was supposed to do. I was a loving and supportive wife who never questioned my husband, who trusted him implicitly. For a long time I loathed his cousin and gave him the cold shoulder. And look how well that all turned out.
For a long time I had the wrong idea about Tristan and Milo.
From now on I’ll do what I like—what feels right.
With my lips still pressed against his, I run my tongue along his bottom lip. When he moans softly, I shiver. His hand grips my hip as I part his lips with my tongue. He’s letting me lead this, letting me set the rhythm, letting me deepen the kiss.
I moan, my skin flushed and hot. I run my fingers through his hair, tugging lightly. We’re pressed together now, just the thin fabric of my shirt separating us, since he sleeps shirtless.
I lean back, breaking the kiss. I reach down, palming the hardness between his legs, never once breaking eye contact. His eyes flutter slightly as I work him in my hand. Between my legs, I’m aching and soaked.
I lean in to give Milo a soft kiss. With my hands on his chest, I push him to lie on his back and straddle him.
I pull up my sleeping shirt and push at the waistband of his boxers. Those mahogany-brown eyes widen slightly. Then the corner of his mouth hooks up. He licks his lips. He rests his hands on my hips and groans slightly as I press against the hardness between his legs.
I’m on fire. Inside, outside, everywhere. There’s heat at my core—it’s spreading up my chest to my neck, down to my lower abdomen. I’m panting as I work against him, that spot between my legs aching.
There’s so much that I can’t control in this timeline. But this? My pleasure, Milo’s pleasure, our pleasure together ... that I can control.
“I want you, Milo.” My voice is a breathy whine.
He nods, moving me slightly farther up his body. “I want you too.” He reaches for the drawer of the bedside table next to him, pulls out a foil square, and rips it open with his teeth. I swipe it from him and twist my torso slightly so I can roll the condom on him.
When I get a look at him down there, I pause. I can’t help but think of the game of truth or dare when Poppy asked if I preferred cut or uncut. When I told her both, I was being honest. And now that I get a look at what Milo has, I can confirm to myself that it still holds true. He’s uncut and it’s hot as hell. But I’d like him just as much if the opposite were the case.
When I slide onto him, we let out dual curses.
Our language gets even filthier when I start to ride him. He leans up, taking my nipple in his mouth. My eyes roll back at the jolt of pleasure, at the shivers that ghost across my skin, the pleasure that builds within me at just the swirl of his tongue.
His hands are everywhere. My back, my hips, my ass, my hair. He ends with his thumb on my clit, circling gently, confidently. My jaw plummets to the floor, and I know I’m about to break. He tells me how beautiful I am, how hot this is, how good I feel. It’s a pleasure cocktail, a turn-on to the n th degree. Sex with Milo feels physically amazing, but to hear him shower me in praise takes the pleasure to stratospheric levels.
It’s not long before I’m shouting and writhing around him. I collapse on his chest, hugging his sweat-soaked skin.
“Wow,” I mutter.
I feel the rumble of his throaty chuckle vibrate against me. “You always say that.”
I bite my tongue just before I say, “Do I?” If that’s what it’s like every time with Milo, of course I’d say “Wow.”
He rips off the used condom and tosses it to the floor. When he rests his hands on my waist, I think he’s about to move me off him so he can run to the restroom, but he pulls me up his body until I’m straddling his face.
I glance down, my heart thudding in giddy anticipation of what he’s about to do.
He licks his lips before kissing the inside of my thigh. “Riley.”
My name is a whispered request on his tongue. I nod at him, ready for everything Milo is about to give me.
When his tongue makes contact with the most sensitive spot on my entire body, I’m trembling with pleasure.
Screw everything around us. Screw what anyone thinks. This is right. This is what I want. This is what we want. That’s all that matters.