But I love it. Whether she wants to acknowledge it or not, Miller is, at the bare minimum, attached to my son. I couldn’t tell you how many times I’ve broken down from worrying that I’m not doing enough, and I know firsthand that you only react like this if you care.
“That wasn’t on you. He’s needy when he’s sick and for some reason, I’m the only one who can calm him down. It’s always been that way.”
My brother, sitting in front of us, peeks his head through the opening between the seats. “He’s right. One time, I was babysitting while Kai was at a charity concert and I had to walk into a completely silent auditorium during a violinist’s solo because Max was going to make me go deaf from his wailing, but of course, he was perfectly fine once Kai had him.”
“Stop eavesdropping, you little creep.”
He ignores me, wearing a mischievous smile. “Miller, you’re a beautiful crier.”
“Shut up, Isaiah. Turn around and forget this ever happened.”
I try to hold it in, but I can’t keep my body from shaking with a silent laugh.
Isaiah catches my eye, giving me a knowing smile before he turns forward again. What he knows or why he’s looking at me like that? No fucking clue.
“Miller,” I whisper. “If you’re this sad, I have a shoulder you could lean your legs on.”
She cackles. Yes, cackles. It’s adorable, which is a word I would never let her catch me calling her out loud.
“Hey, I’m the one with the dirty teenage boy jokes.” Her smile falls again as more tears continue to cascade down her cheeks. “I’m just tired, and you were upset with me after the game.”
Exhaling, my head drops back. “I wasn’t upset, not with you. I pitched like shit. The press wouldn’t stop asking questions and then having to go talk to fans . . . I’m tired and I knew you were tired. I wanted to give you a break. I didn’t mean to take it out on you or make it feel like it was your fault.” Running a hand over her hair, I usher her head back to my shoulder. “And he loves you, you know?”
When she looks up at me, Miller’s eyes are an even more vibrant green from the red that surrounds them.
“I’ve never seen him so smitten.”
Which makes two of us.
“You think so?”
I chuckle. “Yes, Mills. He’s passed out and drooling on your overalls. I think it’s safe to say he’s in love.”
She looks down for a moment, running a hand over his dark hair. “Okay.” Sniffling, she composes herself. “Are you going to make fun of me tomorrow for having an overly-exhausted cry?”
“Oh, absolutely.”
She lightly laughs, regaining some of that spirit that makes her who she is, before nuzzling back into my shoulder.
“Thank you,” I whisper. “I know I don’t say it enough but you’re so good with him.”
“Do you think I’m better than the pediatrician lady with all the cardigans?”
Confused, I tilt to get a better look at her. “Max’s pediatrician is a man, and I don’t think he’s all that into cardigans.”
“The redhead.” Miller yawns. “The one who gave you her number after the game. Do you think Max will like her?”
Wracking my brain, I look for something to piece together. Cardigans. Doctor. Phone number.
Phone number . . . the redheaded woman who slipped me a piece of paper after the game? I assumed it was her phone number, but I didn’t check before I tossed it in the trash outside of the bus.
“Miller Montgomery.” A smirk lifts. “Are you jealous?”
She shakes her head to tell me no.
“Little liar.”
“Shh,” she hushes, burrowing against my chest. “I’m sleeping.”
I can’t stop the grin from spreading on my lips. Miller Montgomery is jealous, which feels like the opposite of a no-strings-attached kind of emotion.
It’s just after 2 a.m. when I get into my hotel room in San Francisco. Max slept through the entire flight, thank God, never once waking up on the bus ride to the hotel or while I set up his travel crib in our room. For him, I hate red-eye flights and the team has rearranged our travel schedule to avoid them this season; however, sometimes we don’t have a choice and have to get to the next city.
After brushing my teeth, I flop onto the bed, completely drained from the past few days.
But there’s a woman on the other side of this wall from me who’s equally as worn out, and I can’t stop thinking about how upset she was over thinking she wasn’t enough for Max. That’s not something you worry about if you’re “just passing through”.
Grabbing my phone off the charger, I shoot her a text.
Me: Are you okay?
A minute passes before she responds.
Mills: Yeah, I’m good now.
Me: Good. So, what are you wearing?
I hear her laughter through the wall.
Mills: Wouldn’t you like to know.
Me: I would. That’s why I asked.
She sends me a picture of her in bed, fully covered from head to toe. Oversized sweatshirt, baggy sweatpants that I think might be mine, glistening from her night-time skin care. Clearly ready for sleep and God, do I want to be in there next to her.
Me: If I ask you something, will you tell me the truth?
Mills: Well, I don’t make a habit of lying to you, so go for it.
Me: Why were you upset over Max?
There’s a hefty pause before I get a response.
Mills: I’m not sure. I just wanted to help him. To be enough for him, I guess.
Me: Is that because you love him?
Mills: Yeah. I do love your son.
And she thinks she doesn’t fall in love when she’s already done it once this summer.
Me: Can I ask you another question?
Mills: Shoot.
Me: Were you jealous tonight?
Three gray dots appear then disappear, repeating that pattern a couple more times on the screen.
Finally, she responds.
Mills: Yes.
Me: Why?
Mills: Would you believe me if I said I’m not sure? I’ve never been jealous before. I’ve never cared about anyone enough to be.
Me: But you care about us?
I’m too much of a coward to suggest only me. At least if I throw Max in there, I know she won’t be able to fully say no.
Mills: More than I knew I was capable of.
Fuck, my heart feels like it’s about to explode out of my chest. I want to bust through the door between our rooms and pull her into my bed, to let myself believe she’s mine for more than the summer. But Miller made these rules, so she’s going to have to be the one to break them.
Before I can respond, Max starts to stir and it’s not long after that his cry begins to fill the room.
Quickly, I stand from the bed. There are times I let him cry himself back to sleep. Him being sick is not one of those times.
“Come here.” I pick him out of his crib as his wail gains volume. “Shh. It’s okay, buddy. I got you.” Bouncing on the balls of my feet, I pace with him.
He cries as I hold him. My arm is throbbing after a night of pitching, but if I put him down, neither of us is getting any sleep, and that includes our neighbors who share these thin walls. So, I walk the length of the room. I rock him, rubbing his back until his screaming cry settles into a sniffle as he tries to find a comfortable position on my shoulder.
I take him back to my bed instead of his crib. Maybe this way I’ll get lucky, and he’ll be able to get a couple hours of rest.
Keeping him towards the middle of the mattress in case he rolls, I occupy one side, facing him. He uses my bicep as a pillow while he continues to cry, but this cry is the one he uses when he’s trying to settle himself back to sleep.
Rubbing his back, I make soothing noises, attempting to help calm him down, when the door separating my room and Miller’s opens.
She peeks inside and catches my eye.
“Sorry,” I whisper from the bed. “We’re keeping you up.”
She simply shakes her head and comes into my room, closing the door behind her. Lifting the comforter on the other side of Max, she slips into bed with us.
“Mmm,” Max hums, trying to say her name when he rolls over to look at her.
“Hi, baby.” Miller brushes his hair from his face before running her hand over the length of his back, soothing him.