his laugh and his voice and seeing his smile.
I miss it all, and I loathe the fact that I miss it all.
He is the one who said I can’t.
He is the one who brought a damn date to this wedding.
But why can’t I drop my torch for him and move on?
Because love is a motherfucker.
Milo pulls me tighter into his embrace, and I tremble.
“I’ve missed you,” he whispers into my ear. “I’ve missed you like crazy, kid.”
More tears threaten to fill my eyes, and I don’t even know what to say.
Scratch that, whatever I want to say, I know I shouldn’t say it.
But he doesn’t hesitate to speak for the both of us. More crazy-romantic things that make my head swim and my heart clench.
“I know I said all the wrong things to you that night,” he says softly, and his warm breath brushes my ear. “But just know, I didn’t stop because I didn’t want to be with you. I stopped because I wanted to be with you too much.”
What is that supposed to mean?
I lift my eyes and search his gaze.
But I don’t find any red flags. Or hints of dishonesty. Or anything but a genuineness inside the depths of gorgeous blue.
“I d-don’t know what to say to that,” I whisper back.
“You don’t have to say anything,” he says, and for the briefest of moments, I let myself rest my head on his shoulder.
And I let myself enjoy the way I feel inside his arms.
And I let myself shut my eyes and just savor the way he makes me feel.
But it doesn’t take long before the bubble is popped.
“Milo.” My father’s voice is behind me. “I think it’s high time I get a dance with my favorite daughter.”
“Of course.” He clears his throat, steps back, and lets my dad take his place.
Bruce doesn’t hesitate to step in, taking my hands into his, and I watch as Milo offers one last look in my direction before he leaves the dance floor.
To go where, I don’t know, but I can only assume it’s wherever his beautiful date is located.
That’s right, you idiot. You nearly forgot about that. He is here with another woman. A woman who is not you.
As Bruce sways us around the dance floor, stupid emotions tighten my throat, and I act like I’m just giving him a gentle hug, but in reality, I’m burying my face into his chest and trying like hell to hide my tears.
“Love you, Maybe,” he says, and the smile in his voice only makes it worse.
“Love you too,” I croak out.
He keeps guiding us around the room, and I focus all of my energy on getting my shit together.
But Bruce, being the Chatty Cathy he is, doesn’t give his mouth one moment’s rest.
“Beautiful wedding, huh, Maybe?”
“Definitely.”
“You having a nice time?”
No. “Yep.”
“Me too,” he agrees. “Did you get a chance to say hello to your aunt Ethel?”
“Not yet.”
“You need to.”
I sigh and smile at the same time. Leave it to Bruce to ask enough questions to completely distract me. “I know, Dad.”
“What about your uncle Joe?”
“He’s on my list.”
“Good, good,” he responds. “Just make sure you make the rounds. Everyone is excited to see you.”
“I will, Dad. Promise.”
“I had a real nice chat with Milo’s cousin,” he adds, and it’s that comment that has me lifting my head off his shoulder and looking him straight in the eyes. “She showed me pictures of her little daughter. My God, Maybe, that little baby is actually cute. Doesn’t look at all like Wallace Shawn, like most other babies. I hope your brother doesn’t wait too long to give your mom and me some grandkids.”
“Wait…who are you talking about?”
“Milo’s cousin Emory.”
I scrunch up my nose. “Should I know who that is?”
He nods toward the other end of the room, where Milo stands by his stupidly beautiful date.
“She’s right there.”
What in the hell?
“She’s his cousin?”
“Yep.” Bruce nods, completely oblivious as to why my jaw has all of a sudden become unhinged. “She’s a real ballbuster. Sweet and sassy. And apparently, quite good at finagling a way to get herself a night out without the old ball and chain. Reminds me a lot of your mom right after we had Evan.”
That pain in my abdomen makes itself known again, but I breathe through it and force myself to finish this dance with my dad.
But I can’t force my mind to slow down. It’s already off at a sprint, racing with an overwhelming number of questions.
That woman, Milo’s date,