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“Plantionic,” she said softly, the beer obviously hitting her a little more now that she had gotten the tough topics out of the way, now she could feel the two beers a little more.
“Platonic,” I corrected her. “Platonic.”
“That’s what I said.” She glared at me.
“You’re a lightweight.”
“I’m not drunk. Two beers does nothing.”
“Said the girl who just slurred her words.” I shook my head at her. “I’m pretty sure you just invented a word.”
“I did not. I saidplatonic.” She looked at her phone, pulling it close and hitting the little button to bring it to life. “We should go. We both have work in the morning.”
“Yeah, okay.” I reached for my wallet to pay the bill. “And you did not say platonic. You said Plantionic.”
She stood. “That's not even a word.”
“My point exactly. Come on, lightweight. Since we are done wallowing in self-pity, let’s get you home.”
Chapter Eleven
-Madeline-
Weeks passed by without so much as a whisper from Kent, nothing. Not even a call to the office to see how we were on supplies. To be frank, not seeing or hearing from him in the slightest made moving on so much easier. Milo had bought me simple teeth shaped magnets for the steel plate in my office, which I promptly used to hang pictures of my family and friends—one of Ophelia, Milo and me right in the center.
With Ophelia’s ever approaching visit, I had what seemed like a lot on my plate. Our small office was growing, and new patients were being added to my schedule every day. It became hard to keep track of them. My normal shift was eight to five, with lunch in the middle of the day, but the new normal had become grabbing a piece of bread and a soda from the fridge and then moving onto the next patient. Who needed actual food when there was Dr. Pepper to fuel you? Once I made it home after my shift, I quickly did my chores so I could bury myself in another book. I had moved on from Colleen Hoover to Kerry Winfrey—another kind of love story. Books took the stress away.
Even though the texting hasn't stopped, I hadn't seen Milo since the night at The Piano Bar. He took me home and gave me water, making sure I was alright before he left. I wasn’t that drunk, and even though Milo assumed my memory from that night was foggy, I remembered everything very…very clearly.
I slipped that Jamie thought we should date, and I saw his reaction, even though he was trying to hide it.
Milo was interested.
Or maybe he justseemedinterested?
WasIinterested?
I wasn’t….at least I didn't think I was.
The idea had rattled in my brain for the last twelve years, and I will admit to a small sting of jealousy when he proposed to Hannah. But Ithought that jealousy was from him simply getting married, not the fact he wasn’t marrying me. Hell, I even helped him pick out the ring. I knew how in love he was. I wasn't jealous because he wasn’t in love with me. I was jealous because I wasn’t in love with someone. I wasn't the one getting married…
Yeah…that was it.
I heaved a sigh and looked at my dog, asleep on his pad below my bookshelf. His peaceful sighs only distracted my brain for a millisecond, and then my thoughts were instantly back to Milo.
Why had I even picked that bar to go to? We hadn’t been there since the dreaded blind date, that awful kiss. I hadn’t even given that bar a thought since that night. We lived too far away from it, and it was mainly a college spot, but yet when he asked me where I wanted to go, I blurted out the name and he drove, not questioning me once.
So maybe what Jamie had said had stuck a bit?
Maybe…maybeI was interested?
My phone buzzed across the counter, dancing on the granite. Niko opened one eye to the constant buzz, giving me a groan. I picked up to see the familiar photo on my screen, instant flutters shooting into my stomach. He must have known I was thinking about him. I smiled and answered.
“Hey, Milo.” I tried to keep my voice calm and the butterflies at bay. What the hell were these new feelings?
“Maddy.” He sounded frustrated, rushing a bit. There was movement in the background, the door slamming and Holly’s giggle. It was his week with Holly. Why was he calling me? “9-1-1…”
An hour later, I knocked on his apartment door, only standing there for two seconds when he flung the door open, already in his uniform. His blonde hair was sticking up in all directions, and his bag was slung over his shoulder. I had a sharp inhale of breath. Those same flutters came back. I pursed my lips and held my breath, looking at Milo in a way I never had, almost as if Jamie had opened a door and there he was.
