Chapter 18 Hazel #2
Skylar was right; I hadn’t really allowed myself to endure this process.
It was just hard to know what the process even was.
How did one know how to go through a freaking divorce anyway?
I’d never done it. I’d certainly never seen this in my future when I walked down the aisle and promised my life to the man I once loved more than myself.
But look at me now—sitting in a rock star’s kitchen, eating homemade cinnamon rolls, and petting his dog that I’d be watching for six weeks.
Life was funny like that. Never what you planned it to be. But, I guessed, what was the fun in that?
Trying to be open-minded and carefree might’ve been a good suggestion, but it made my eye twitch, nonetheless.
I opened the messages from Genesis next, which were in all caps—some of them expressing her excitement, one was of her jealousy, and the rest were a little explicit. My mouth hung open when I read the last one.
Genesis: AND OMG! IF YOU DON’T WELCOME THAT MAN HOME FROM HIS TOUR ON YOUR KNEES IN TINY LINGERIE, I’LL KILL YOU MYSELF!
The lights overhead suddenly flickered, and I snapped my head up and put my phone face down.
“Uhh, hey.” Milton cocked his head, wiggling a set of keys in the air. “Grabbed the wrong bike keys. Didn’t want to startle you again.”
I batted my eyes a few times, resting a hand over my mouth to keep from laughing.
He shook his head at me, amusement curling his lips up. “As you were, Sunshine.”
Once he was gone, I cleaned up my plate, played with Sweets for a bit, changed clothes, and then called to FaceTime with Skylar.
Skylar could only talk for a few minutes before she had to get back to work, and then I called Genesis.
My talk was basically a continuation of their texts, but they were excited for this little six-week adventure I was going into.
Their excitement was a bit more focused on their fantasy of Milton and me being together, as if they were forgetting the key detail that he would not be here.
I had a couple more days here with him before he left, and I was curious why that made me so sad. Just him being gone at the gym for the last hour and a half seemed so much longer than it was. How the hell was six weeks going to feel?
“Sometimes, the chemistry is just there. Two souls destined to meet each other,” Genesis explained.
I tried not to roll my eyes at her. She knew what it was like to find love after heartbreak, and I remembered her falling for Cam really quickly after they met.
Yet I’d oddly never questioned it. She was finally smiling and laughing and glowing again.
I couldn’t argue with her choice to chase that.
And look where it had gotten her—sickeningly happy and engaged to the kindest, nerdiest, most patient man.
But she’d also mourned her first husband for three years before even considering testing the waters again.
My divorce was still fresh. Hot out of the oven.
And ready to burn anyone who came near it.
Okay, that was dramatic, but so was some of the stuff Genesis was spouting.
“It’s not too fast when it’s the right man, Hazel.”
“Okay, okay. I get what you’re saying and all, but we haven’t even gone out on a date. How can I even begin thinking about any of that right man and destined soul nonsense when he’s about to leave the country?”
“First of all, it’s not nonsense.” She raised a brow at me. “And secondly, you’re living in his fucking house. I’d say you skipped a few steps.”
I snickered. “Whatever. I’m going to focus on work and taking care of this adorable little guy.” Sweets walked up to me, and I scratched behind his ears before I continued, “And embracing being on my own for a little while.”
“I wish you’d embrace that man’s dick.”
My face fell into a deadpan expression. “I’m hanging up now.”
“Wait! Don’t you dare—”
I clicked the End Call button and snickered to myself, settling back into the reclined chair.
The sun was warm and relaxing, and I nearly shut my eyes when I saw the sliding door open on the other side of the pool.
Milton waved, holding a smoothie. He looked freshly showered and wore his typical plain T-shirt, this time in green, and a pair of shorts that cut right above the tattoo I’d done. I admired it as he came closer, shielding his eyes from the sun with his hand.
“I stopped and got myself one and would’ve felt bad if I hadn’t brought you back one on such a hot day,” he said, handing me the drink in his hand.
“It’s what I always get—almond butter and banana.
If it’s too weird for you, I can make you something else.
Violet hasn’t been shy to tell me she hates it, so you won’t hurt my feelings. ”
I waited for him to finish his adorable, nervous rant and thanked him and invited him to sit next to me.
Me: Who’s Violet?
He looked up from his phone and grinned. “That’s Danny’s little girl. He’s my guitarist, if you remember from the show?”
I nodded once, sipping the smoothie.
“They don’t live far from here. Violet likes to visit all the time, especially now that I have Sweets. You kind of remind me of her,” he said. “She’s just this ball of light you want to be around all the time, you know? I’m sure you’ll meet her soon, once the tour is up.”
My eyes rounded at his casual and incredibly sweet compliment.
“Did you happen to see the tarp in the entryway when you came down this morning?” he asked.
I gave him another nod, trying not to devour the smoothie too quickly.
“Well, I had this crazy idea—and don’t feel pressured to do it if you don’t want to—but I thought you could paint the wall while I was away.
” He peered over at me as he sat, and I arched a quizzical brow.
“Oh my God, no! Not like painting with a roller and all that. I want you to use it as your canvas.”
I cleared my throat and stared at him.
A wall-sized canvas? For me? Is he serious?
“You don’t look thrilled by my suggestion.” He snorted, watching my face as I processed. “We can totally forget I mentioned it.”
I reached over, touching his arm in a silent plea.
“You … like the idea?” he asked, and I quickly nodded. “Really? Okay! Yeah, umm, you can paint whatever you want, however big you want. Just, please, for the love of God, cover up as much of the white as you can.”
I laughed and opened our texts, sending another.
Me: Are you sure? That’s a big wall and the first thing people will see when they walk into your home.
Milton: Very sure.
Me: That’s a lot of faith to have in someone.
Milton: I think it’s right where it should be.
His perfect teeth flashed behind a handsome grin as he looked up from his phone.
It felt silly, texting right beside one another, but it allowed me to relax a bit and not work so hard to read his lips.
I liked looking at his lips. Aside from his killer smile and knowing how good his mouth felt against mine, Milton enunciated his words perfectly and at a normal pace, which I appreciated, but it still took a lot of effort and focus to lip-read.
Me: Anything you had in mind for a design? Theme? Color scheme?
Milton: Whatever your heart desires, Sunshine. Paint what makes you happy.
I turned my head toward the valley and hills behind his home. The landscape was filled with life and light and beauty. I could even make out the city in the distance. It looked a lot less intimidating from here, just a small ornament sitting on the horizon.
My phone vibrated.
Milton: I bought this place mainly because of the view. Just wait. The sunset is even better.
Me: Really? I’m excited to see it.
We kept the texts going, asking questions about life and our friends.
He told me about where he had grown up and his mom, and I was grateful that I hadn’t read about any of it in one of Skylar’s texts.
I told him about my dad who traveled for work and my mom passing away to cancer when I had been little.
Despite having plenty of food inside and cooking skills he promised to show me, he ordered a pizza so we could continue our conversation.
Before we knew it, the sun began to set, and the sky shifted from blue to light purple, to shades of pink and red. I sighed, admiring it slowly.
Milton: See what I mean?
Me: It’s definitely made it on my list.
Milton: You have a list? Like of top-tier sunsets?
Me: Well, not really. There’s really only one that matters.
Milton: Tell me.
Me: I grew up in this old farmhouse, and my bedroom window overlooked the sunflower field behind it. I remember I would just sit there and stare at it every evening, watching the sun go down and the sky change colors. The first painting I ever did was actually of that view.
Milton: That explains the sunflowers I see on everything.
I shrugged.
Me: They’re bright and happy, and they remind me of my mom.
I don’t have a lot of memories with her before she died since I was so young, but I remember her sneaking back into the fields to cut one down for me whenever I had a bad day.
She cut me a whole bundle of them when I broke my wrist, riding my bike.
I stared out at the sky some more, letting it come back to me.
Milton: Can you sign it for me?
I spun and tilted my head at him.
“Sign it to me,” he repeated. “Please. I want to see you tell me a memory as beautiful as that one, not read it.”
Warmth spread in my chest, and I did as he’d asked, telling him the very same words but in sign language. It felt good to talk about her and my sunflower field; it’d been so long since anyone had asked.
Milton: That’s a beautiful memory.
Milton: I’m glad you have something to remember her by with you permanently.
He pointed at my side where my sunflower tattoo was, and I smiled.
The notch in his throat bobbed after a moment, and his brows pulled together.
Milton: Can I ask you something else? Something personal?
Me: Sure.
Milton: You don’t have to answer, okay?
Me: Okay.
The pause in his reply made me nervous. He stared down at his phone, not moving his fingers. And when my phone finally lit up, I was almost too scared to read it.
Milton: Did he hurt you?
I read the four words once, twice, and then a third. Each time, it became clearer what he was really asking me. And who he was referring to.
I turned and met Milton’s gaze. His blue eyes roamed my face with a knowing sadness, and instead of asking him the reasoning behind his question, I gave him the honest answer.
My vision glossed over, and I slowly nodded.
My head began filling with explanations and excuses, wanting to minimize the hurt it’d caused, but I knew that was a habit I would have to let go of. No matter how complicated I tried to make it out to be, it was still the truth.
When I blinked, my tears fell, and my view of Milton focused. His face was torn and twisted as he stared at me, gripping either side of his chair.
“I’m so fucking sorry.” His lip trembled as he spoke.
I sat up and opened my arms, needing comfort almost as badly as I felt the need to comfort him.
His body slumped with relief before he reached for me, pulling me into his lap and wrapping me up in his chest. As hard as his chest looked from afar, it was actually quite comforting to rest my head against.
Tightly nestled in a Milton cocoon, I rubbed his back to reassure him that I was okay, but he shook his head and didn’t let go.
So, we stayed like that for a bit.
Until it all hurt a little less.