Chapter 24
June 2, 2024
When I walk into the living room Sunday morning, I see Poppy and Desmond passed out on the sectional.
“Morning, Sleeping Beauty.”
I turn and see Milo standing in his usual spot by the kitchen island, brewing tea and coffee, dressed in boxers and a T-shirt. His voice is barely above a whisper.
As I walk over to him, I hear the sound of fabric rustling. I glance over to the couch and see Poppy stirring under the plushy fleece blanket shrouding her and Desmond. Gus pops his head out from under the covers, slow-blinks, then burrows back under.
“I think they’re still pretty drained from last night after the craziness at Last One Standing,” Milo whispers. He aims a shy stare at me. “We all are.”
I nod, taking note that last night was the night .
The epic disaster at Last One Standing, where the pub ends up in flames.
“They didn’t make it to the guest bedroom?”
Milo shakes his head. “I tried to tell them, but they pretty much passed out the moment they sat down.”
He laughs quietly to himself before looking at me, his expression sober. “Hey. I’m sorry. For, uh, how brash I was when I walked into Tristan’s pub last night.”
“It’s okay.” I say it automatically. I know what’s coming when I wake up tomorrow. For the past few days—days in the future, technically—I’ve heard Milo, Poppy, and Desmond make comments about how outrageous it all was. I’ve been trying to piece it all together since I can’t admit to them that I didn’t actually live through it with them.
But I won’t have to wonder anymore. I’ll get to experience it all soon.
Milo runs a hand through his hair, wincing slightly, before his arm falls back to his side.
He looks at me expectantly. “Did you mean it? What you said last night?”
Shit.
I take a second to swallow and breathe. I hate this part of living life backward. I hate not knowing what everyone else knows. I hate that I have to answer without knowing what happened, and that answer could mean that I hurt Milo’s feelings without even meaning to.
“Of course I meant it.” The words fall out as soon as I open my mouth, almost as if I’ve been programmed to say them. It’s like I didn’t even have to think; my mouth and my brain just knew what to do.
I hold my breath as Milo blinks. And then the smallest smile tugs at the corner of his lips. He looks relieved. So relieved. And happy.
He wraps his arms around me and pulls me into his chest. His skin is warm and soft, and it feels like coziness and heaven wrapped in one. I close my eyes and relax into his embrace. I breathe in his natural spicy scent and the aroma of the tea and coffee brewing next to us.
“Fucking hell. Ouch, Des. Off, will you?”
Desmond groans and yawns. “What’s that?”
“Your leg. On top of my stomach. Christ, it’s like you’re made of lead.”
“Oh. Sorry.”
The sound of Poppy’s hoarse morning voice makes both of us chuckle.
“Morning, you two,” Milo says.
“Morning,” Desmond says through a yawn. Poppy mutters a curse word.
She and Desmond sit up on the couch. She turns to me, peering at me through her smudged eye makeup. She aims a sheepish smile my way as she smooths a hand through her mussed blonde hair. “Sorry, Ri. Wasn’t in my finest form last night.”
“It’s okay, Poppy,” Milo says. “You said everything I wanted to say. And then some.”
Poppy perks up. “And you, Milo, proved me wrong in the best way. You officially have my approval to shag my best friend.”
“Poppy!” Desmond and I say in unison.
“Christ, your mouth,” Desmond mutters.
Poppy gives him a cheeky look. He blushes, and the corner of his mouth quirks up. It’s like their bickering is foreplay.
She turns to me, aiming a deadpan stare. “Don’t pretend like that’s not what you wanted this whole time, for me to like him.”
I glance at Milo, who looks equal parts amused and relieved.
“Okay, yes. I’m very glad that you like Milo,” I say.
Desmond stands up, puts on his glasses, then stretches toward the ceiling. Poppy smacks his ass. He lets out a grunt, his cheeks flaring red before he shuffles toward the bathroom in the hallway, scrubbing his hand along the chestnut scruff on his face. He stops suddenly, then steps back to me.
“Thank you for letting us stay here last night.” He looks between Milo and me. “We were in no shape to attempt to go home.”
Milo claps him on the back. “No worries, man. You’re welcome here anytime. Both of you are. Especially after what you did. You can even sleep in the guest bedroom next time.”
Desmond laughs before turning to me and patting my shoulder. “You’ve got a good one, Riley.”
He looks at Milo before heading to the bathroom.
I catch Milo smiling right as Poppy stands up. “Please tell me you’ve got coffee brewing. I’ve got a bangin’ headache.”
Milo points to the full coffeepot. “All ready to go. And I’ve got breakfast coming.” He holds up his phone. “Four full Englishes are on their way from the greasy spoon a few streets down.”
“God love you, Milo.”
Poppy walks over, pulling her leather jacket over the long dark maxi dress she’s wearing. Milo hands her a full mug before turning around to the fridge. He pulls out a sleeve of crumpets and a jar of jam.
“Prebreakfast? It’s all we’ve got, sadly.”
She claps Milo gently on the cheek while sipping from her mug. “It’s perfect,” she says.
Desmond returns and joins us as we stand around the island and have impromptu prebreakfast together.
“I still can’t believe what Tristan pulled last night,” Desmond grumbles. Poppy elbows him. He winces before his expression turns sheepish. He darts his gaze to me. “Sorry, Riley.”
“It’s really okay, you guys. If you want to talk about last night so you can decompress, I completely understand ...,” I say, hoping they do so I can piece together what exactly happened.
Poppy shakes her head. “Nope. We’re not giving that tosser one more ounce of our energy. Or his bitch mum. Christ, I still can’t believe them.”
I stay quiet, eager for them to say more. I’m curious as hell to know what went down so I know what I’ll be waking up to tomorrow. But save for a few grumbles, the three of them remain quiet as they chow down on their crumpets, still groggy from sleep.
Desmond quickly changes the subject, asking Milo about where he got the coffee beans they’re drinking. For the rest of Sunday, as we hang out, eat, and go about our day, I feel the stress knots in my shoulders loosen. It’s the eve of some disastrous event in my life, and I’m strangely calm. I probably shouldn’t be, but I am. Maybe because unlike every other upsetting event I’ve ever experienced, I’ve had the chance to peek ahead, and this time I know it’s all going to be okay.