Mr. Gabriel wore … along with one of Gigi’s aprons.
He looks slightly familiar, but I can’t place him. He’s also seeing me without my wig and basically just heard me admit that I cut my hair because I hated my life! That is why I practically shout, “Who the hell are you?”
“Language, young lady,” Gigi chides. Suddenly, it all clicks—his T-shirt, the voice I heard in the background when I called from the airport. This is the boy who answered Gigi’s phone a few months ago.
“I’m Milo,” he says easily. He walks closer and holds out his hand for a shake. That’s when I notice his gold hoop nose ring. And the fact that he’s cute. Really cute. Classically handsome, as Gigi likes to say, with a square jawline, thick eyebrows, and full lips.
I shove my baseball cap back onto my head.
A bright smile is plastered on his face. “Milo Williams,” he continues. “We’ve met before and spoke on the phone once.”
I stare at his shiny white teeth and shake my head. Pointedly, I say, “We’ve never met.”
“You have,” Gigi corrects, standing up and placing her hands on my shoulders, trying her best to soothe me. “Milo and his band sang carols for us last Christmas.”
I blink at him, trying to think back. All I really remember from that night is Gigi “surprising” my parents and me with carolers. They were four boys around my age, and they wore ridiculously ugly Christmas sweaters. One boy had a guitar, and now that I think about it, that boy might have been Milo. Another boy had a saxophone, but that’s as much as I can recall. I think they sounded okay. I don’t remember them sounding bad. But I spent most of the time texting Simone, who was in Ibiza with her girlfriend’s family for the holidays. I barely paid attention to the carolers.
I look him up and down, and my eyes freeze at the slippers on his feet. Gigi’s slippers. I suck in a breath and point. “Where did you get those?”
“He got them from me,” Gigi says. “He’s my guest. Really, Evie Marie. What’s gotten into you?”
I think the correct question is what’s gotten into her? I look back at Milo, who is still sporting that easy smile. When he finally realizes I’m not going to shake his hand, he stuffs it into his back pocket and shrugs like it’s no big deal that I’m being incredibly rude.
I’m remembering the phone conversation I had with him in May. He said that he delivered Gigi’s groceries and that he was her friend. I figured maybe they chatted a little when he dropped off her food. I definitely didn’t expect him to be walking around her house and wearing her apron and slippers!
“Milo helped me cook this wonderful dinner for you,” Gigi says. “We’ve been in the kitchen since two o’clock.”
Well, it’s definitely time for him to go now. Gigi and I have important things to discuss, and we don’t need an audience.
I stand up and force a smile. Curtly, I say, “Thank you so much for helping Gigi with dinner. I guess you’d better get going soon so that you can grab dinner for yourself.”
Milo blinks. “Oh, um. Actually—”
“He’s staying for dinner,” Gigi finishes.
“I’m sorry, what?” I say, looking between the two of them. I have no idea what’s going on here! Who is this guy?
Gigi shoots me an admonishing look. “He’s staying for dinner,” she repeats. “Now let’s eat. I’m starving.”
Milo and Gigi walk to the kitchen side by side. Her cats trail closely behind.
I stand there in confused silence. Gigi glances back and beckons for me to join them.
With heavy, reluctant steps, I walk toward the kitchen, feeling like I just stepped into an episode of The Twilight Zone.
Chapter Four
The three of us settle around Gigi’s huge white dining table, she and Milo sitting side by side across from me. Otis Redding’s “Try a Little Tenderness” is playing on her record player, and Milo is smiling as if this is all normal. Like the Evelyn Conaway offering you hospitality and claiming you as a friend is something that happens to people every day.
“Gigi, how long has he been delivering your groceries?” I ask.
“Since last summer,” Milo answers, as if I directed the question to him. Gigi nods.
So it’s been a year. Why didn’t I know this?
Maybe you were so concerned with your own life you didn’t think to ask.
I shake away that thought and look at the dinner in