His voice, all gravel and heat, murmuring something.
But what?
Good girl.
Oh.
But surely not. Surely that’s my imagination. My brain filling in the gaps in my memory like Mad Libs.
Because if I was going to whip up a concoction from my deepest sexual fantasies, Miller murmuring good girl would definitely make the top ten. So surely that’s something I dreamed.
But there are other memories, too.
I want more than one night.
Yes, I would have dreamed that up.
Because, of course, that’s what dream-Miller would say. It’s so much of what I want. More than one night. Dozens more. Hundreds.
And then…
Details matter, love.
Oh.
Oh, those words are so Miller. Details do matter to him. And the endearment? Love?
Surely my deepest heart wouldn’t even reach so far.
An endearment likeloveisn’t something I would have imagined. Certainly not the way I remember it in my head. Not as a casual endearment that sprouted naturally at the end of a devastatingly short sentence.
Details matter, love.
I shiver again, curling onto my side on the bathroom floor. This time I’m not seeking solace in the cool tile. I’m cradling the memory. Clasping it to my chest like it’s a physical thing. Like I can hold it in my heart, even if I can’t hold it in my hands.
But is it real?
I’m still not certain. And I can’t ask him.
Can I?
It’s not like this is a chunk of code he rewroteone night long after I went home and then left for me to find the next morning in our shared GitHub.
I can’t just ping him a question about it on the company messaging system, knowing that he’ll check it and respond as soon as he’s up.
Or can I?
We’re driving back together today. That’s the plan, anyway.
Even if he said no to my offer last night, even if I made him uncomfortable, Miller would never leave me here without a ride.
Even if he had hooked up with Raquel, even if they’d mutually declared their love, eloped to Vegas and already started a family, Miller would still come back to give me a ride home. Because he said he would. And because he’s Miller.
Which actually brings me back to that moment last night when Devon told me I was there as Miller’s wingwoman.
That was the moment that started this whole spiral.
In the cold tile of daylight, everything about that moment seems wrong.
