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Grayson
“WEDDING NUMBER SEVEN WAS MY wedding,” Mila says, her voice quiet.
“Wait … you … you’re married?” I ask, confused.
“No,” she says, shaking her head. “We never got that far. I found out he’d been cheating on me with one of my bridesmaids, who I thought was a friend of mine. Turns out, she wasn’t.”
“Oh wow, Mila, I—”
She holds out a hand. “And that’s why I don’t like to tell people about it. Poor little Mila, the jilted bride.”
“Does Nadia know?”
She shakes her head. “She knows I dated him, but I wanted a clean start when I moved back, so I ordered my family to never speak of it, and I haven’t really told anyone … until now.”
“So, this was back in Seattle?” I ask.
“Good memory,” she says, giving me a look of approval.
I won’t tell her I commit most of our conversations to memory, and I want to know every little detail about her. Because that’s creepy stalker territory.
“How did you meet, uh …”
“Monty?” she fills in the blank.
“Monty?” I echo, pretty sure I’ve never heard that name come out of her mouth. I think I’d remember a name like that.
“Montgomery Allen Prescott III, to be precise.”
“Oh wow,” I say. “That’s quite the name.”
“It should have been my first red flag, honestly.”
“How did you meet this Monty guy?”
She smiles one of those ironic smiles before answering. “He was my boss, actually.”
“Your … boss,” I repeat.
“Technically, he was my manager,” she says. “But he had the ability to fire me, and he did.”
“Wait, hefiredyou?” The audacity of this guy. I want to punch him more than Dave.
“I was going into his office to quit, but he got to me first,” she says.
“What an ass.”
She snort-laughs. “He was. It was all for the best, though.”
“Because you’re in a much better position now,” I say. I look around at where we are, both of us dirty and tired, Mila’s foot propped up and starting to swell, a backpack barely full of food and water, and I vow to get her out of this no matter what I have to do.
“Than being married to a lying, cheating scumbag? I’d say yes,” she says.
“Well, now you’re stuck with me.”
“I don’t mind the company.” She nudges me with her arm.
“I feel responsible,” I say, feeling the weight of everything that’s transpired press down on my shoulders.
