It’s the Miles-shaped hole in my chest. It’s having that entire interaction with Todd and missing Miles more than I have since I got back two weeks ago—and that is saying something because I have missed him a lot. It’s wishing I could reach out to him andtell him what just happened and invite him over and have dinner with him and let him kiss away every memory of Todd my brain holds.
I haven’t heard from Miles in the two weeks that I’ve been back. Not a word. And while I’ve been tempted to reach out to him multiple times, I told him the ball was in his court.
But maybe it’s time to stop waiting for him. Two weeks is a long time to go without a word, and maybe he realized that we were better off without each other.
I told him at the resort that the door would be open to him, so do I tell him now that I’m closing it? Or do I just let sleeping dogs lie and move forward with my life?
I have so many things on the horizon: a new career, a furry friend to care for, confidence in myself.
I’m finally letting myself want things and speaking up about it.
But I think I’m starting to see that sometimes wanting isn’t enough. Just because I want to try with Miles doesn’t mean I’m going to get it. This is the kind of disappointment I’ve been trying to avoid. This is why I stopped wanting things at all—because the pain of not getting it was harder to bear than not wanting at all.
I slide down to the floor, my back against the front door, hugging my knees to my chest. Captain meows at me from the top of the stairs.
It’s so tempting to just tell my heart to stop wanting Miles, to do what I’ve always done and shove it so far back to the depths of my heart that eventually it just becomes part of the furniture and doesn’t feel like anything. Perhaps the reason my heart stopped asking for what it wanted all those years ago is that the pain of not getting it was harder to bear than not wanting at all.
But I’m not that girl anymore, and even if it kills me, I’m going to let myself want him, and some days, I may even let myself hope.
27
ABBY
I eventually get up from my place at the front door when Captain comes down the steps to rub against me, insisting that I feed him. I stay in the guest room with him as he eats, and when he’s done, we play. Captain is good company when I’m feeling low.
It hasn’t been more than half an hour since Todd’s departure when I hear a knock on my door.
Did Todd come back?
The nerve. I haven’t even had a chance to talk to Hazel about what happened, and this is really going to put the icing on the cake. I start composing a text to her, letting her know that Todd came back after having the audacity to ask me to get a drink with him.
My blood is pumping, my heart rate is picking up, and I can feel the anger rising. I was nice before, but he’s really going to get a piece of my mind now.
I fling open my door, ready to attack.
“Todd, I said I?—”
But it’s not Todd.
It’s Miles.
I think my heartactuallyskips a beat. All the heat for battle in me extinguishes like a flame snuffed out by a gust of wind.
Miles Barker is standing on my doorstep, hands in the pockets of his gray shorts, his chain tucked under the collar of a white T-shirt, looking as handsome as ever.
My heart dares to hope.
Surely, there’s only one reason Miles Barker is on my doorstep right now.
“Miles,” I say, out of breath, as if I’ve just run down the stairs, though I’ve been staring at him for at least a minute. My heart is pounding so hard, the rest of my body probably thinks I’m in danger.
“Hi, Abby.”
My stomach flips when he says my name, and I think I might throw up between my racing heart and my fluttering, flipping stomach. He’s here. Miles is here.
“Who’s this?” Miles asks, pointing down at my feet, where I realize Captain is winding his way between my legs.
“This is Captain,” I say to Miles. “I adopted him when I got home.”
