“Oh. Well. Okay. Thank you?”
He thinks I’m attractive. I don’t know how I feel about that, but I’m all warm on the inside. It’s been a long time since a man has said that to me. Even my husband was never overly affectionate. I know he loved me, but I wondered if he thought I aged well or if I was still beautiful to him.
Our lives were crazy and we didn’t make time for those things.
“You’re welcome. Did you seriously doubt that?” he asks.
“Doesn’t every woman?”
“Yes, and you’re all fucking bonkers!”
I don’t really like his tone, but I’m going to let it go since I’m sure I broke about ten company rules in this conversation.
“Okay, so tell me,” he says with frustration in his voice. “What has you so mystified?”
There’s no way out of this. I’m going to have to be honest.
I lean back and cross my arms. “What it is about you that people like? I think you’re a nice guy, despite trying to act otherwise, but my friends and daughter seem to think you’re some kind of catch.”
Milo’s eyes go wide. “I think it’s rather obvious.”
Of course he would say that. He’s in love with himself. “It’s definitely not your personality.”
“I’m a catch, Danielle. I’m rich, sexy, fantastic in bed, and I—”
“Have a very modest opinion of yourself,” I finish his sentence.
Milo puts the folder to the side and shakes his head. “You’re missing the bigger picture.”
“Enlighten me, then.”
I can’t wait to hear this. Here I was, thinking about the nice things he did yesterday and he’s about to remind me why he’s the ass Callum says he is.
“Apart from the obvious, I’m exactly what women want. I don’t play games or make you believe I want something I don’t.”
“Women don’t want that!”
“Maybe not American women.”
Idiot.
“Because your wife tells you . . . oh, that’s right, you don’t have one of those?”
Milo glares at me. “By choice, sweetheart. I don’t want a wife or love or anything to do with that rubbish. I’m quite happy with my life.”
“That’s what they all say.”
I believe that despite Milo’s proclamations, in the core of each human is a desire to be loved above all else. It’s why we seek companionship as soon as we start to detach from our parents. I wanted, more than anything, to be loved so deeply that it gave me life.
Then I realized that shit only exists in stories. I got a husband who loved me, and kids, the house, and then I remembered that being loved is only part of a bigger picture.
We also needed to work, take care of things, and ride out the rough patches of living together in tandem. And then it ended abruptly in the most painful way possible.
However, I would do it all over again because in those few moments when I was Peter’s entire existence, they carried me through the hard times.
Milo rises, lifting the folder he placed down. “I mean what I say. I’ve seen the downside of marriage, and I want no part of it. However, when I find that girl who knocks me on my arse and makes it unbearable to be away from her, she’ll know I chose her. I chose to love her against my will to be single. That’s the girl I’m looking for, but I don’t think she exists.”
I rest my arms on the desk and grin. “I can’t wait to see her knock you on your arse.” I use his word because British words are so much cooler than American ones.
He chuckles. “I can’t either.”
I see it in his eyes. Right now, he’s no more immune to love than the rest of us. He’s just gotten good at pretending.
“You’re not going!” I yell at Ava as she’s throwing her shoes on.
“You can’t make me stay home. I’ll get a ride to the courthouse on my own then!”
I move closer, gripping her arm. “Goddamn it! You can’t sit through it. You can’t!”
She can’t see the photos of her father lying in his blood. I know she thinks she’s old enough to tackle the world, but she has no idea. Court isn’t fun. It’s hell and it’s sucking the life out of me.
I refused to go today. I had to meet with an inspector and I didn’t think it was a good idea to reschedule. Of course, Milo brought up the fact that I have him as my extremely overqualified assistant and I was making excuses, but . . . he can suck it.
Now I’m arguing because Ava thinks she has a right to be there.
“Don’t tell me what I can’t do, Mother! I’m a lot stronger than you think. I’m not a child.”
“That’s exactly what you are,” I say as I slump down on the couch. “You are a child, Ava. You’re my child and listening to that . . . it’s not what your father would’ve wanted.”
“I need to know,” she admits.
How do I keep her from this? Is trying to protect her even the right thing? I look to the ceiling, praying for some help here.
When no one answers, I decide to dig deeper to see what the real reason she wants to be there is.
“What do you think you’re going to hear that’s going to help you?” I ask.
She moves towards me. “I don’t know, but at least I can see the man who took him from us. Parker will never know Daddy. I want the man responsible to see my face.”
I realize how much she’s like her father right now. Peter had the same fire inside of him. He wanted answers, the truth, and to fight the injustices in the world. I wanted to be happy. Ignorance was bliss for me.
“Do you think he really cares?” I toss back. “Because I can promise you, he doesn’t. Seeing your face isn’t going to suddenly make him ashamed of what he did to us. It won’t make things right. It won’t bring Daddy back. It will do nothing to him and everything to you.”
She sits on the couch beside me. “I’m not a little girl anymore, Mom.”
Oh, how wrong she is. At sixteen, she’s nowhere close to knowing the hard realities that adulthood offers. I would give anything to be young and dumb again. It was so much easier.
I also understand the want she has on some level. She lost her father and this is something that might help bring her closure.
“I know you’re not,” I say. “I can’t let you go to the trial, but if you agree to not fight me on this, then you can come to the reading of the verdict. I want you to skip the gruesome parts, but I think you should be there for the closing arguments.”
Ava leaps toward me, wrapping her arms around my shoulder. “Thank you, thank you, thank you. I won’t fight you.”
I return her hug, trying to remember the last time she embraced me. We’ve been on opposing sides of everything for so long.
She releases too soon, and I go to say something, but the doorbell rings.
“I got it!” she yells and rushes over, pulling the door open before I can get to my feet. “Well, if it isn’t double-oh-sexy,” she twirls her hair.
“Jailbait,” the British accent I spent a good part of my day sparing with replies. “You need a proper spanking.”
“Want to give it to me?” she asks.
Oh, dear God. Milo’s jaw goes slack even though he walked right into that one.
“Go to your room, Ava,” I order and she frowns.
“But he’s so pretty.”
“Go.” I point.
“At least your daughter has eyes that work,” he replies.
“Yes, my sixteen-year-old thinks you’re pretty, you should relish in that.”
Milo ignores me and pulls a folder out. “The city is being run by a bunch of pricks who sent this back. You’re getting a lot of pushback from the existing neighborhood.”
It blows my mind how much people will resist change. This project is to clean up a deteriorating apartment building and revitalize the area. We plan to put a park in for the kids, new basketball hoops because the old ones are broken, and little stores to help with jobs. All of these things are good, but you’d think we’re chopping down a forest to put in a parking lot.
It’s crazy.
It’s also making me look like a fool to Callum. I pushed him on this land. I practically sold him on the idea of how wonderful it would be. Now, he’s fielding all kinds of letters, complaints, and issues with the permits.
“I’m going to have to come up with an idea.”