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“No, I don’t think so. I like other people’s too. Heather is pregnant. Megan just announced she is too.”
“Does that make you feel lonely?”
His question sucked the wind out of me. How did he know? “Yes.”
“Things like that make me lonely sometimes. Not enough to change me, though.”
I kissed the top of his head again, was going to talk to him more about my family, but he said, “This is nice. I’ve never done this before either.”
“Lucky me.”
He lifted his head so he could look me in the eye. “I think you’re very good at getting men into bed. You’re all flirty and generous with the compliments. You should teach me to do that.”
I rolled my eyes. “I wasn’t trying to fuck you when I said that. I’m being serious, but it’s good to see you have respect for my game. I’ve never had trouble getting laid when I wanted unless it was because I was here, and there were no men who swung my way.”
“I don’t know why anyone wouldn’t want to have sex with guys. They’re so fucking hot!”
I laughed. “Yeah, well, women are beautiful, and straight men likely don’t understand why we don’t want to bang them.”
“Good point. Also, I won’t want to talk about Wilma anymore tonight so I’m not sad. Tell me more about your day.”
I huffed out a humorless laugh. “Real talk?”
“Do I ever want or do anything else?”
I felt like I was smiling, even though I wasn’t. It was the most foreign feeling, like Milo had injected happiness inside me. “Good point. I was being a big baby and feeling sorry for myself, and then I came home and talked to you, and it all feels really fucking trivial.”
“It might be, but that doesn’t mean you’re not allowed to feel it. I read a lot about people and emotions because it’s so damn confusing. Even if it’s not logical, feelings are valid.”
“I…” I thought maybe Milo Copeland was my favorite person in the world. “You understand people more than you think.”
“Are you flirting with me again?” His lips curled playfully, a spark of humor dancing in his eyes.
“Am I really that good if you have to ask?”
“Are you stalling? I think you’re stalling.”
When we laughed, our bodies vibrated together, making his joy echo inside me. “It’s silly. I just…sometimes I feel like I don’t fit in my family. My dad and Orlando are lawyers, and I’m a tattoo artist.”
He frowned. “What’s wrong with that? You’re good at what you do, and your job makes people happy.”
“Shit. I’ve never looked at it that way before, that what I do makes people happy.” Which was ridiculous really; of course it did. They came to me with something they cared enough about to permanently put on their bodies.
“I’m very good at this. Who knew? What else do you have for me?” He rested his arms on my chest, his stomach on my groin, watching and waiting.
“I think I’ve created a monster.” But I loved it. “I’m not sure how to explain it. My dad doesn’t talk to me like he does with Orlando. He loves me and supports me, but we don’t share the same kind of bond that he does with my brother. I’m not even sure if he knows it. Like we discussed, I don’t want kids, which makes my mom sad, even though she already has a grandbaby on the way, and now Meg is pregnant, so it’s almost like another. I feel like I stand out when I’m with them and like they wish I were someone else, and holy shit, I sound ridiculous. I’m going to stop talking now.”
I expected him to laugh, but he didn’t. “I know what it’s like to feel like you don’t fit, like people would rather you were someone else. That’s not something anyone else has to understand because it comes from inside you. I think…I think people worry too much about everyone being the same, or like, their feelings are the only right feelings, ya know? Like however I feel has to be how you feel, or it’s wrong or stupid. But really, we’re all unique, and most emotions, experiences, thoughts, being left out or not, or lonely or not, or how we grieve or not—whatever the situation—those can’t be wrong because they’re part of being human, and no two experiences are the same. So…it’s not ridiculous, and thank you for trusting me. When you feel like you don’t fit, just know you fit with me. I’m not sure if that helps or not. I do that with you. If I’ve said something awkward or someone looks at me strangely, I just think about what it’s like to be with you,” Milo said.
It wasn’t until he added, “Did I say something wrong?” that I realized I hadn’t replied, that I’d just sat there looking at him, my heart beating so hard, I thought maybe it wanted to jump out of my chest and crash through his.
