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He gets behind the wheel and checks on me in the rearview mirror. Our eyes lock and he gives me a shy smile before he pulls onto the road.
Usually, I dive into my emails and messages when I’m being driven. Today, I surprise myself.
“It’s Miles, isn’t it?”
He jerks his eyes from the road to the mirror for a moment. I’m not the only one surprised.
“Yes, Ms. Lowe.”
I smile, despite knowing he can’t see me. “Miles, I don’t think I want to pay someone for driving me around. I think I should use Uber.”
His eyes dart to meet mine again, full of concern. “I see.”
Shit. “Oh no, I don’t want you to leave. I’d like you to stay, but instead of driving me around, you would drive the families who come to visit their sick relatives, or anyone who is a client of our nonprofit. Your employment conditions would remain the same, but people who can benefit more would use your services.”
I’ve been agonizing about letting him go, but after Dominic used this car to have a clinic patient driven to the bus station, I liked the idea of transitioning the driver’s responsibilities.
I can’t pretend Dominic hasn’t made an impact already. Which doesn’t mean I wouldn’t have arrived at this solution by myself.
The same goes for the legal clinic. I’ve wanted one for a while. But time, and money… And I just… Starting a clinic was a lasting commitment. Not something I can lean into easily. Buying the hospice center was a huge step for me.
We arrive at the Madison Club. “Miles, I’ll discuss things with Ashley to figure out how we’ll go about it.”
“Thank you, Ms. Lowe. I consider this new responsibility a promotion.” Miles smiles at me. He’s about to get out.
“Don’t. I can jump out. Why don’t you take the rest of the day off? And we’ll talk tomorrow.”
He drove me to JFK early in the morning, so he must be tired. I know I am, but I still have to talk to Gio because if Bianca asks me about it one more time, I’m going to lose it.
He waits for me in the restaurant, drumming his fingers on the table and frowning as I sit down.
“What do you want?” he growls.
“Nice to see you too, bro. Thank you for asking. I’m doing well. I’ve just come from Chicago and I’m starving. Do you mind if I order something?” I dial up my sarcasm with my most fake smile while I open a menu.
He glowers, but before he can say anything the server comes. I order a coffee and a small salad.
“What do you need, Lo?” Gio loops back to his original question as soon as we’re alone again.
“Not much, just a story for Bianca to explain your behavior lately.” I lean back and cross my arms over my chest.
“Fuck.” He rolls his eyes. “Tell Mother to call me if she wants to talk to me.”
It’s slightly unnerving when he speaks directly to me, not at his screen. Dark circles shade his face, and it doesn’t look like he shaved this morning.
“Would you answer her call?” I raise my eyebrows and he looks away. The whole reason I’m here is because he’s avoiding her calls.
We sit in silence, and I wonder if this is a complete waste of time.
“You look like shit, Gio.” Not sure if this is the best approach to get him talking. I don’t even know if I want him to share. Why on earth did Bianca think I’m the right person for the job? But of course, Paris and Sydney have probably tried already.
“I purchased a retail chain and it’s been a lot of work. We’re re-branding and planning to open several new stores.”
I think he’s telling the truth, but I doubt that’s the only reason for his weird behavior.
My salad arrives and I dig in with enthusiasm.
“Why were you in Chicago?” he asks with a frown.
