34. Sebastian
Mila suggests we hold off until the weekend to see each other after her lunch with HR. She feels like they’re watching her.
I regularly check on Maverick in the kitchen, but he’s getting along with everyone, including Chef Monique.
Unless you count Brooklyn, who stays as far from him as possible. I don’t blame her. He’s screwing everything that moves, and both Zara and Cristal threatened to quit when they found out that he’s also hooked up with another woman from laundry.
He’s got to be doing a new one every day. Sometimes I try to sit down and do the Maverick math, and it doesn’t add up.
Maybe he’s the one with a dick made of gold.
By the time Saturday rolls around, I’m more than ready for time with Mila. I tell Arya we’ll stay in the downstairs master suite, so she has the upstairs without worrying about bumping into us.
Mila is shy and adorable, walking in with her overnight bag. Alfalfa bounds up to her like a Labrador puppy and not an overfed eight-year-old, but Mila kneels down to give her plenty of attention.
Watching the two of them together does funny things to my heart. Despite everything Mila told me about her HR lunch, and her fear that Ilsa would discover us and ruin her chance at the event manager spot, I feel confident everything will work out.
Mila walks toward me, Alfalfa devotedly trotting alongside. “I’ve missed you,” she says.
I take her bag and lead her to the downstairs bedroom. “You don’t know how many times I wracked my brains for excuses to go into HR to get a glimpse of you.”
“Maybe next week I’ll be more accessible, and not closed up with four gossipy women.”
Except then we might take bigger risks.
Footsteps bound down the stairs. I drop Mila’s bag inside the door of the bedroom.
Arya appears. “She’s here!” She turns to Mila. “You’re here!”
I squeeze Mila’s hand. “Mila, this is my sister Arya.”
“I love all your art,” Mila says. “Every time I come here, I discover another beautiful piece.”
“Really?”
Mila nods, absently petting Alfalfa. “The triptych in the living room? I see something new every time I look at it.”
“Ooooh, tell me.”
The two of them take off for the next room. Mila tells Arya what she sees, and Arya talks excitedly about what she planned.
Mila goes on about the layout of the room and how the art is perfectly situated, asking if Arya has done any interior design.
My sister is eating it up.
I smile to myself as I watch them. This never happened with Haley, not once. Their instant friendship gives me peace of mind that I won’t have a situation where Arya will ever feel pushed out.
“You want to see my studio?” Arya asks.
“Heck yes, I do,” Mila says.
The two of them disappear upstairs.
And, she’s been stolen.
This is good. Very good.
I open the fridge and survey the contents. I bought several options for meals this week. I rummage around and set various packages of meat on the counter to consider.
I’ve started crushing garlic when they finally come back downstairs.
Arya hops on the kitchen island. “I like her. I loaned her one of my books.”
“You don’t even loan me any of your books!”
Arya reaches down to snatch a slice of cheese I set out. “You got crumbs in them!”
“Once! When I was twelve!”
“How can I trust you after that?” Arya steals a cracker from the tray.
I catch Mila smiling at the two of us. My heart swells. This is the best. The absolute best.
“I was thinking about grilling ribs for dinner. You staying?”
Arya hops down. “And watch my brother make out like a lovesick goon? No thanks. But you can leave out some leftovers. I’m heading to Vicky’s this afternoon, anyway.”
“I’ll make extra.”
“I’ll be around in the morning if you want to make French toast,” Arya says. And then to Mila, “He can really cook. Be very bad at it and you’ll be all set.”
“Noted,” Mila says.
“Hey!” I swat at Arya’s head.
She ducks and laughs and bounds up the stairs. Alfalfa barks and runs after her.
“And we got rid of them both,” I say. “I need to let this meat marinate for a while.”
She wanders around the island as I scrape the crushed garlic into the container with the meat. “Whatever will we do while we wait?”
I seal the lid over the meat. “Play Parcheesi?”
She squeezes my waist. “Sure.”
I slide the meat into the fridge. “Or to the bedroom?”
Mila grins up at me. “I thought you’d never ask.”
We lie on the big bed that faces a wall of plate glass with a different view of the mountains than upstairs. The deck beyond the door connects to the one outside the kitchen and living room, and a small hiking trail is a winding scar through the trees and underbrush.
Mila rests her head on my shoulder. “Do you like to hike?”
“I used to do it a lot. Work often gets in the way.”
“Does Arya hike?”
I laugh. “Almost never.”
“Did your mother?”
“Almost never.”
“Dad, then, or were you too young?”
I trace lazy circles on the leg of her jeans. “We did it some. But it’s not something I think about doing with him. It was Uncle Roger who took me most.”
“The Uncle Roger who raised Maverick?”
“You know about that?”
“Brooklyn is still seeing him. He told her.”
“I see. Yes, except most of the hiking was before Maverick came along. When Dad left, Uncle Roger was pretty angry at him. He tried to make up for it by being a father figure to me.”
“Did it work?”
“I had a hard time the first year. Uncle Roger helped.”
“Do you think you’ll ever have a relationship with your dad?”
“At this point? Unlikely.”
She wraps an arm around my waist. “I feel lucky to have parents who put us kids first. Even if they were a super big pain.”
“It is lucky.” I hesitate. “Do they know you’re seeing someone?”
“Not yet. My best friend Camille does. She keeps insisting I slip her a picture. She’s having to go by your hotel headshot.”
“You want to take something to send her?”
She hesitates, and I pull her close.
“No?” I ask.
She bites her lip. “I’ve been reluctant to have…evidence.”
Ah. I get it. “It’s not a bad thought. There are no pictures of us together.” Well, other than camera footage of us in the halls, perhaps. And I never scrubbed the security camera kiss from the first week, not that anyone will go looking. It’s long buried in miles of files, all shoved onto a backup drive who knows where.
“I keep imagining I’ll scroll through my phone looking for something and someone will spot the picture.”
“Makes sense. We’ll make up for it one day by taking a million.”
She nods.
I lift her onto my lap and slip my fingers beneath the bottom of her sweater to find her skin. It’s warm and smooth. I want to sink into her.
“So, you have some new positions to show me?” She wraps her arms around my neck.
“Oh, do I.”