“Did Ethel tell you?”
“Only not to make a big deal out of your birthday. But no details.” I scooted closer and wrapped my arms around him, giving him space to pull away.
He didn’t. Instead, he rested his head on my chest and sighed. “I still remember that day so clearly. It was three days before my thirteenth birthday, twelve years ago. Mom has bought all the ingredients to make the cake. We were supposed to bake it together, all 3 of us the next morning. If not for a drunk driver…” He sniffled and wiped his face with his hand. “Was the cabin getaway my birthday party in disguise?”
“Not if you don’t want it to be.” I stroked his arm. “We were celebrating your exam results.”
“No, I like it. It was very thoughtful. A bit of happiness before the anniversary of the worst day of my life.”
I pursed my lips. “I didn’t know the last part when I planned it.”
“Because I didn’t tell you. If you’re not aware of the bad things about me, you won’t leave.” He released a humorless laugh. “But you’re going soon, anyway. Which is fine. It’s exactly what we agreed on.”
“Actually, Milo, I—”
“Don’t. I’m just emotional today. You’ll say something you’ll regret because you saw me upset.” He rounded the tomb and traced a hand over the top of the headstone. “I’m ready to go,” he said without looking at me.
The drive to Milo’s house was short and silent. I pulled his suitcase out of the trunk and climbed the steps to the door.
Milo unlocked it but didn’t open it. He turned to me instead, his face on the level of mine with him standing three stairs higher.
“Once you’re back in Chicago, maybe I could visit you sometime?” His tone was even but devoid of its usual cheer.
“That would be great.” I refrained from reaching for him, afraid he’d shrug me off. That would hurt too much.
“Unless you find someone. I mean, we could be friends, of course, but it would be awkward for your future partner.”
Bile rose in my throat. A partner? Other than Milo? “Right, yeah,” I croaked out. I couldn’t give him empty platitudes or promise I’d stay without having a plan. That would be cruel.
“I know you’re leaving in a week, but I want some time to process. I’ll text you, okay?”
I swallowed hard. “Okay, whatever you need.”
Milo cupped my face with his hands and laid a soft kiss on my lips, then disappeared inside his house.
This felt too much like a goodbye.
The crippling pain in my chest forced me to face reality. This couldn’t be the end.
I had to figure something out.
The next day at breakfast, I told Troy that I wanted to analyse all the options for my potential move to Wendigo Hills, with the main one being a crazy idea that involved him. But first, I had to pull off a stunt that had been cooking up in my head for weeks, and I finally figured out how to tackle it.
Troy listened patiently and asked me to meet him after work at the hotel bar after he’d run all the numbers. I couldn’t risk being hopeful yet. It was tempting, though.
I visited the coffee shop the following morning, and Milo smiled at me, but didn’t come over. The next day he was not in. On the nineteenth of August, his birthday, I dared not bring a gift, but I still wanted to see him. Except he wasn’t at the cafe. Not in the morning, or afternoon.
“Sophia, hi, can I have a moment?” I approached Milo’s friend and the person who may help me.
“Sure. Will you take over?” she said to Lorenzo. The cook was a well-built man with brown, curly hair pulled back in a low ponytail.
“Yup. I got it.” He sized me up and down with a glare and turned to the next customer.
“Milo is not texting me, and it’s the second day he’s not at work. He asked to give him space but I’m worried.” The memory of finding antidepressants in Milo’s sock drawer haunted me every day since returning from the cabin. I imagined the worst, but had no information whatsoever apart from recalling that dickhead Andrew asking Milo if he’d been depressed again.
Sophia crossed her arms and rested her hip against a corner table. “Milo is hurting.”
“You probably know it’s his birthday today, but he doesn’t like celebrating it.”
