Once Upon a Sure Thing (Heartbreakers #2)

This email is the reminder that I needed to keep my focus on work, on shoring up my business and planning for the future.

That’s how I’ll get through my gig with Miller this week, and that’s how I’ll get through . . . everything.

Even though Miller is how I’ve gotten through everything else that’s come before.



*

When I arrive in Brooklyn, I haven’t done anything but think about how it felt to be in Miller’s arms last night, the way he kissed me, and all his sweet and tender words and gestures.

Foolish heart.

It’s a heavy heart too, an anchor in my chest weighing me down.

Must focus on something else.

As I walk to Kirby’s home, I catalog his neighborhood—the pickle shops, the organic dry cleaner, the parents carrying babies on their chests.

The trick works momentarily.

When I reach his house, Kirby tells me Macy and Chloe are on their way back from the park, and the baby’s sleeping.

“Tell me stuff. Are you excited for the move?” I ask in the most chipper tone I can muster as I flop onto his couch amid the packed boxes.

“Definitely. It’s going to be a great opportunity.” He tilts his head, studying me. “Um, you don’t look so hot today.”

I slump against the cushions. Leave it to a brother to see through your armor. I could tap-dance around his observation, but I’ve sung and danced all day, and it’s exhausting. “I don’t feel so hot.”

“What’s wrong?” He sits next to me, a worried crease on his forehead.

A sob—the one I’ve been holding in since the morning— works its way up my throat. I choke out the truth. “I’m an idiot. I went and fell in love with my best friend.” The tears escape, and Kirby wraps an arm around me and shushes me.

“It’s okay. It’s going to be okay.”

“It’s not going to be okay. We’re not you and Macy.”

He shoots me a quizzical stare. “Why can’t you be Macy and me?”

“Because you guys are the exception. Falling for your friend doesn’t usually work out this well,” I say, gesturing to the house, to the life he shares with Macy. “Miller’s the best friend I’ve ever had, but he’s not the type of guy who wants to get serious.”

Kirby clears his throat, scoffing at me. “He’s not?”

“He’s not,” I insist, hiccupping.

He scratches his jaw. “Didn’t he come with you this morning to bring Chloe here?”

“Yes.”

“Doesn’t he help you with Chloe’s school projects?”

“Yes,” I answer, wondering where he’s going with his questions.

“Don’t you go to his house, and have dinner with his family, and hang out with his brothers and their friends?”

“But that’s because we’re best friends. Of course we do that stuff.”

He shoots me a look. “Seriously, Ally?”

I toss my hands up. “Yes, seriously. That’s normal friends stuff. That’s what I don’t want to lose.”

Doesn’t he get it? I want to keep Miller in my life, and friend Miller is better than no Miller.

Kirby arches a brow. “I think it’s something more. Something deeper. Honestly, I’ve always thought there was a spark between you two.”

“You have?” My heart beats a little faster. I can’t let myself believe that, but oh, how I want to.

“You guys have always seemed like you like each other.”

I can’t hold it all in. “Yes, fine. Okay. You got it out of me. Something happened. Something happened a few times,” I say, spilling out all the messy thoughts in my head.

He laughs lightly. “I didn’t even ask, but good to know I was right that you’d leveled up.”

“But it can't work.”

“Because you think Miller can’t be serious. But my point is he can.”

I let out a moan, like air seeping out of me. “But . . .”

“But I’m right. You’ve been friends for six years. That sounds like he knows a lot about commitment. It sounds like he’s been there for you for a lot of things. And it sounds like maybe he has some of the same feelings you do. I don’t think he’d mess around if it was just physical.”

I take a beat, trying to insert this new puzzle piece into the jigsaw of today.

The problem is I can’t slide the piece in around this little girl who’s mine to take care of, to raise, and to love. I don’t want to disappoint her. More than that, I don’t want to hurt her. “But what about Chloe? I don’t want to set her up to have another person leave her life.” Then I whisper quietly, my voice shaky, “And I miss Lindsay.”

“I miss her too,” Kirby says softly, reaching for my hand and squeezing it. “We’ll always miss her. Chloe probably will too. But you can’t protect Chloe from everything, and you definitely can’t shield her from ever getting hurt again. She’ll get hurt. She’ll cry. She might like some guy you date, and she might dislike some other guy you date. That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t try.”

But what would trying with Miller even mean? Asking him to date? To be my boyfriend? Does anyone even use that term anymore?

Hey, Miller, wanna be my boyfriend?

I’m so rusty I haven’t a clue.

I don’t feel like I know anything anymore.

Usually, I am strong, determined, and fierce, like I’ve skimmed a little off the top from the badass heroines I narrate.

Today, I’m just a girl who’s crying in her brother’s arms.



*

“Does that sound like a good idea for tomorrow?”

I force myself to focus on Chloe over dinner at home. She’s detailed what she wants to do tomorrow, her next day off.

Smiling broadly, and ever so falsely, I tell her that her idea sounds great.

With her fork poised in midair, she stares at my face, studying me. “Why are you in such a funk?”

Ouch. Called on my mood by my girl. “Robots and zombies took a lot out of me.”

She spears a piece of pasta. “Maybe you should talk to Miller. He always cheers you up.”

She’s right. I should talk to him. After all, how else are we going to return to the way we were?





Chapter 30





Miller



As the sun dips low in the sky, I swing by Miles’s hotel room at the Luxe, doing my best to shove my loneliness out of my head.

For the record, loneliness sucks.

I like people. I like companionship. And I like these two knuckleheads.

“I guess you two cats didn’t exactly trash your room like rock stars,” I tease, surveying the suite. It’s immaculate. “Wait.” I wag my finger. “What’s that?” I ask, pointing to an empty package of Goldfish crackers and a carton of milk on an end table.

I spin around and wiggle my eyebrows at Ben. His eyes widen, and he purses his lips like he’s sealing in a secret.

Oh, hell. The kid is guilty of something. “Looks like someone did party like a rock star,” I tease.

Miles strides across the plush carpet, picks up the empty packages, and tilts his head. “Ben, what did I tell you?”

Ben’s expression drops like he’s been busted. Only I can’t imagine what for.

“Is he not allowed to have Goldfish and milk?” I ask, scratching my jaw. “That’s kind of harsh.”

“It’s so harsh,” Ben says, stomping his foot.

Miles huffs and answers both of us. “He’s allowed to have milk and Goldfish. He’s not allowed to order them from room service without my permission.”

My hand flies to my belly, and I crack up. “You called room service to order milk and Goldfish crackers?”

“Daddy was in the shower. I was super hungry. Haven’t you ever been super hungry before?”

“Little dude, I’m super hungry all the time.” I bend to one knee and ruffle his hair, then turn to my brother. “If you have a five-year-old who already knows how to call room service, your life is a good life.”

Miles relents somewhat. “I know. It’s not a big deal. But I have to have some rules. Some expectations, you know?”

I nod. “Sure. I hear you.”

Miles sets a big hand on Ben’s small shoulder. “Of course you’re going to be super hungry at times, and I don’t even mind if you call room service. But you know the rules. You just have to ask me first.”

Ben’s bottom lip quivers. “I’m sorry, Daddy. I’ll ask you next time.”

Miles beams. “I love you, little man, and that’s why I have rules for you.”

“I’ll do a better job following them. I promise.”

“I know you will.”