4. Miller
Miller
The next morning, I showered and got dressed in jeans, sneakers, and my baseball jersey, and then I went in search of my houseguest.
The office door was open. All the bedding had been shoved to one end of the couch in a messy heap, and the alligator was sitting upright in my desk chair, like it was ready to get to work.
Collie wasn’t in there though, so I checked the cat’s room next, followed by the kitchen.
Then I noticed the connecting door to the garage was propped open with one of Collie’s black Converse sneakers.
I went downstairs and stopped in my tracks at the van’s open side door.
The interior was lit by that funky little chandelier, and Collie was reading a paperback on a purple beanbag, with my cat curled up right beside him.
I couldn’t help but notice that the silk robe he was wearing had fallen open, revealing a tiny pair of briefs that barely covered his junk.
I was staring directly at his crotch when he noticed me standing there and said, “Oh, hey, Miller.”
I quickly shifted my gaze to his face and floundered for something to say. I ended up with, “David Chang?”
“Collin Souza.”
“No, I know your name. I’m asking if that’s the Korean-American chef I remind you of.”
He smirked and set aside the book. “Did you spend last night googling Korean chefs with TV shows?”
“Maybe.”
“You don’t look anything like David Chang,” he said.
“Yeah, I don’t think so, either. But then, who do I remind you of?”
“That one guy. You know. He’s been on a bunch of shows.”
“I need way more information than that.”
“He usually has a goatee, which would look weird on you, so don’t grow one. He’s probably in his fifties, and I’ve always thought he’s super sexy.”
I raised a brow and asked, “You think I look like I’m in my fifties?”
“No. You look like he probably did twenty years ago.”
“You’re terrible at explaining who this person is.”
“Look, you’re the one who started asking questions before I had any coffee,” he said. “That reminds me, why don’t you own a coffee maker?”
“I do own one. It’s in the cupboard.”
“Why don’t you keep it on the counter, like everyone else in the world?”
“I don’t like clutter.”
He stared at me for a moment, as if that made no sense to him.
Then he said, “Well, I didn’t know you’d hidden your coffee maker, so I came out here to make coffee on my camp stove.
But then, Kate followed me. I didn’t want to open the garage door in case she decided to run away, and I’m pretty sure using a propane stove in an enclosed space kills you dead. ”
“It does. Never do that.”
“Okay. Anyway, long story short, I never did get any coffee.”
“Come inside, and I’ll make us some. Oh, and so you don’t have to worry about locking yourself out, the code to the keypad is one-one-one-one.”
He said, “That’s a terrible code,” as he got up and climbed out of the van.
“I know. The previous homeowner programmed it, and I haven’t gotten around to changing it yet.”
“Well no, of course not. You’ve only had eleven months.”
When we reached the kitchen, I opened a cupboard and pulled out the sliding shelf that held my coffee station. As I filled the carafe at the sink, Collie took a seat on a barstool and crossed his legs, so the robe fell open again. I tried to ignore how sexy he looked.
After a minute, he asked, “Did your ex leave you for another man?”
“Wow, that came out of nowhere.”
“I was thinking about what happened to you eleven months ago.”
“No, he didn’t. He just decided he didn’t love me anymore.”
“Ouch.”
“Yup.”
“Did you have a big wedding planned?”
“Huge. We invited everyone we knew and spent a fortune on a gorgeous venue.”
“The date must be coming up, right? What would have been your one-year wedding anniversary, I mean.” He quickly added, “Sorry, I probably shouldn’t have reminded you of that.”
“It’s not like I’d forgotten. It’s actually two weeks from today.”
“If you don’t already have plans, I’ll come over that day, and we’ll get very drunk.”
“Good. I was planning to drink alone, but if you’re here I’ll seem slightly less pathetic.”
While the coffee brewed, I made us scrambled eggs and whole grain avocado toast. When I put his plate down in front of him, Collie grinned and said, “Fancy.”
“Is it?”
“Aunt Sue wasn’t big on breakfast, so I’d just make myself coffee and an off-brand pop tart.”
“Can I ask how she died?”
“ALS. Most people know it as Lou Gehrig’s disease. She was only fifty-two.”
“That’s awful.”
“It really, truly was,” he muttered, as he climbed off the barstool and crossed the kitchen to the coffee station.
He proceeded to make himself a concoction that was approximately one-third each coffee, sugar, and milk.
Once he finished, I poured myself a cup of coffee and added a splash of almond milk before joining him at the kitchen island.
While we ate, he asked, “What time is the game?”
“At eleven. We should leave at ten-fifteen if we want to walk.”
“How far is it?”
“About twenty blocks.”
“And are there hills between here and there?”
“A couple.”
He wrinkled his nose and said, “No, thank you.”
“You don’t want to come to the game?”
“No, I do. What I don’t want is to schlep over hill and dale and arrive looking sweaty and bedraggled.”
“Fair enough. I’ll order us a rideshare.”
“Thanks.” He took a cautious bite of the avocado toast before asking, “So, who are the Artful Dodgers playing, and how much do we hate them?”
“It’s a team of lawyers from a high-powered firm in the Financial District, and we hate them a lot.”
He nodded. “Got it. And what should I know about your coworkers? Do you have a crush on any of them?”
“Not even a little. Most of them are straight, except for my good friend Daria, and two guys who recently started dating each other.”
“How long have you worked there?”
“Almost six years. I started as an intern when I was still in art school.”
He kept asking questions about my job all through breakfast. Then we lingered over coffee, until he jumped up and exclaimed, “I need to get ready! I can’t make the Dodgers’ star pitcher late.”
He put his dishes in the sink before rushing downstairs to his van. After I loaded the dishwasher, I requested a Lyft, put on my baseball cap, and filled a backpack with two water bottles, my mitt, and some snacks for Collie.
When he met me at the front door, I couldn’t help but grin.
He was all in black again and carrying a messenger bag, with the handle of an umbrella hooked over his arm.
He’d decided to go with his Converse sneakers, tights with a large fishnet weave, cut-off shorts, and long, fingerless gloves, along with an oversized baseball jersey.
He stuck a huge pair of sunglasses on his face and announced, “I’m ready.”
“It’s probably not going to rain,” I said, as I indicated the umbrella.
“That’s for the sun. I have to protect my corpselike complexion.”
I opened the door for him, and when he bounded down the front steps to the waiting Honda, I noticed the back of his jersey was emblazoned with a big 69. That made me smile.
Collie and our driver chatted all the way to our destination. When she dropped us off at the edge of the playing field, I realized I was cutting it pretty close. Most of the players on both teams were already there, stretching and doing warmups.
Just then, I got a text from my friend Daria, asking where I was. I spotted her across the field and waved, and she ran to meet me.
Daria had taken me under her wing when I started working at our company.
She was Korean-American like me, but her parents were Korean immigrants who’d taught her all about her heritage.
When she realized how clueless I was about Korean food and culture, she’d made it her mission to educate me.
A really solid friendship had grown from there.
Once she reached us, I introduced her to Collie and asked, “Is everything alright? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you run that fast.”
“I’m not sure how you’re going to take this, but I wanted to give you a heads up,” she said. “One of the lawyers on the other team brought his boyfriend.”
“And?”
“It’s Bruce.”
I turned to scan the people on the other side of the field as Collie asked, “Who’s Bruce?”
I muttered, “My ex,” just as I spotted him hugging some big, tall, musclebound guy.
“The ex? The plastic surgeon who left you at the altar?”
“He didn’t actually leave me at the altar.”
“Close enough. Which one is he?”
“The tall, square-jawed blond guy who’s hugging, well, basically his doppelganger.”
“Okay, so of the two blond behemoths…”
“He’s the one on the right.”
Collie wrinkled his nose and asked, “Is that your type? Because that’s just so… obvious. Like, god forbid your ex would be a short, skinny, dark-haired guy.”
I muttered, “I don’t have a type,” as I turned my back to the field.
“When was the last time you saw him?”
“Eleven months ago. He was supposed to stay away while I was packing my stuff, but he came home just as I was leaving with the last box.”
“Did he say anything?”
“He asked if I wanted to come inside so we could talk, and I told him to go fuck himself.”
Collie nodded. “Good.”
“I know you’re probably thinking about bailing,” Daria said, “but those D-bags are going to cream us if you’re not pitching.”
I exhaled slowly as I took off my baseball cap, brushed my hair back, and put the cap on again. Then I straightened my posture and said, “That was jarring, because he’s the last person I expected to see today. But I’m not going to run and hide.”
Collie asked me, “How do you want to play this?”
“What do you mean?”
“I know I’m not exactly Captain America like Bruce’s boyfriend, but I’m more than happy to act all lovey-dovey if you want to try to make him jealous.”
I took his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Don’t sell yourself short, Collie. You’re gorgeous, and we should absolutely pretend we’re a couple. In fact, let’s lay it on thick.” Not that my ex cared enough about me to be jealous, but there was a lot to be said for making him think I’d moved on.