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His gaze drifts to the window. He focuses on something far off in the distance, like he's lost in thought. It must be a whole minute before he looks back to me.
"She killed herself," he says.
My stomach drops with a thud. My fingers slip. Oh no. My cup hits the ground. Then there's coffee everywhere. "Oh, God. I better get that."
I jump out of my seat. Napkins. I need napkins. They're by the counter, by the perky employee who doesn't know that Miles doesn't do boyfriend, that he believes love can only break you.
I grab a stack.
The perky employee spots the puddle of coffee. "I can get that."
"No, it's okay." She's not hearing it. She slides out from the counter with a white washcloth, rushes to Miles, drops to her knees, and mops up the coffee.
His eyes find mine, but he says nothing. I try to turn myself into stone. I try to give nothing away, but everything around me feels heavy.
He’s gone through so much. He hurts so much. And he mentions it casually in the middle of a coffee shop. By the way, my mom killed herself and that's why I have all these intimacy issues. Want to fuck in the bathroom?
Deep breath.
The employee finishes mopping. She smiles at Miles. At me. Totally oblivious to the change in atmosphere.
"I'll make you another. Latte, extra shot, right?" she asks.
I nod and return to my seat. "Sorry."
"That's about what I expected." He picks up the remaining half of my sandwich and hands it to me. "You're clumsy when you're hungry."
"I'm sorry you went through all that."
There's vulnerability in his expression. "I survived."
My heart thuds against my chest. "You're alone."
His expression hardens. "I've been alone a long time. It's easier that way."
"Oh."
Miles is silent. Of course he's silent. He's been alone a long time. It's easier that way.
Alone.
Without anyone.
Without me.
It's easier that way.
It's better that way.
He's happier that way.
He's happier without me.
Chapter Twenty-Five
We park in the driveway of my parents' Newport Beach house. Miles grabs our suitcases from the trunk. I try to help but he pulls the suitcases out of reach. Okay. I guess my mom will appreciate him acting like a gentleman.
The oak door is locked. I knock instead of fishing for my keys. Mom will also appreciate the chance to make an entrance.
