“He never does. But it’s more than that. This thing between you two is destroying him. He has his—” She shook her head and sighed as if weighing her words carefully. “He gets sad sometimes. He doesn’t want to see me then. Sometimes he’ll let Ethel in. This time, maybe you could try.”
“He said he’d text me first.”
“He’s not a date who gave you a fake number not to contact them. He trusts you, Rowan. Now go and fix this. Or end it.” She pursed her lips in an exasperated move and tossed her green hair back over her shoulder. “But be clear whether you want to break his heart or not. You’ve been stringing him along for weeks now.”
“I haven’t.”
“I’d say it’s none of my business, but he’s my friend and my boss. Milo is part of my life and I hate seeing him hurt.” She glared at me. “Go.”
I did. Running toward Milo’s place my head filled with scenarios of what I should say or do. I had an idea. It couldbackfire spectacularly, but it was worth a shot. I stopped by the local grocery store and finally took the steps to Milo’s house with two bags packed to the brim.
I set them down and fished out my phone.
I’m at your door. Tell me to fuck off and I’ll go.
In all honesty, I hadn’t expected the three dots of Milo’s typing to appear instantly.
Use your key.
I let myself in and set the groceries in the kitchen. “Milo?”
“Bedroom,” he yelled back.
His house had been full of adorable clutter before, but now it was a mess of epic proportions by Milo’s standards, with clothes on the floor, unwashed dishes in the sink, and empty packets of chips and mini pretzels on the couch.
I found him face down on his bed, tangled in the sheets, wearing an oversized T-shirt and underwear. The room needed airing, and Milo could use a shower. But those were not priorities. I sat at the very edge of the foot of the bed.
“Is this my Swimming with the Sharks T-shirt?”
He turned to his side and eyed me. “Why did you come?”
I missed you. I need you. I was worried.
If I started too heavy, he might shut down again.
“You were right,” I said.
“About what?”
“Everything about me. I hate my job, and I’m a coward for staying with the company as long as I have.”
He sat up slowly as if he were weak or in pain, and crossed his arms. “You came here to tell me that?”
Gods, if only I could pull him into a hug and bury my face in his hair. “Among other things. I want to be braver, like you. Which means I have to take matters into my own hands more.”
“Like what?” Milo’s eyes were swollen with dark bags under them, as if he hadn’t slept for days.
“Asking you if you’d bake a cake with me.”
Milo frowned. “Can you bake?”
“No. But I found a recipe online and bought the ingredients. Why not give it a shot?”
He grew even sadder. “I see what you’re doing.”
“No idea what you’re talking about.” Alarm bells rang in my head. I fucked up. Fuck. How would I fix this?
He looked ahead at a framed picture on his dresser. “I couldn’t bake my cake with my parents, but I can do it myself now. With you.”
