one date, so one night for two hours tops. My mind goes around and around with scenarios as I tap my finger on my phone, and none of them are good. I finally give up, and I’m about to call her when the phone rings, and I see it’s Miller.
“Hello,” I say, putting the phone on speaker.
“Are you home?” he asks, and his voice is low, almost in a whisper.
“Yes, why?” Throwing the cover off me, I walk to the front door, flip on the outside lights, then unlock the door and walk out. Miller stands leaning against the limo, and he puts his phone down as I make my way down to him. “What happened?” He looks exhausted.
“Oh, gorgeous,” he says, and I hate that he gave me that nickname. Okay, I’m lying. I love when he calls me that. “I don’t even know where to start with that question.”
“Where is my grandmother?” I ask, looking around. “Is she here? Did you drop her off at home?”
“Oh, she’s here,” he says, walking over to the limo door and opening it. All I see is her hair, and when I lean in a bit, I notice she’s sprawled out on the back seat.
“What did you do to her?” I ask, poking my head inside and calling her name. When she doesn’t budge or stir, I get out of the limo and look at him with an arched brow, waiting for an answer.
“What did I do to her?” he asks, and his voice goes louder. “What did I do to her?” He shakes his head and runs his hands through his hair. “The question is, what did she do to me?” He points at himself.
“I don’t understand.” I look at my grandmother. “Grandma,” I say, and she doesn’t stir. “What did you give her?”
“What did I give her?” He laughs. “Me? The question you should ask right now is, how was your night, Miller.”
I cross my hands over my chest and roll my eyes. “Fine. How was your night, Miller?”
“Funny you should ask, gorgeous,” he says. “It started off really well. Had this whole thing set up. We were going to go for a gondola ride and then have a picnic in the park under the stars, but hey, shit happens. Right?” He puts his hands on his hips. “Fast forward to getting in the car. Where your grandmother physically assaulted me.” I roll my eyes now. “I thought I was going to be Bruce Lee at one point. She had her hands everywhere.” His eyes go big. “Everywhere. It was like I was fighting with an octopus; her hands were everywhere all at the same time. She tried to get my dick out of my pants five minutes into the date.” He points at his dick.
My eyes automatically go down to his area. “Did she succeed?” I ask, trying not to laugh.
“No, she did not succeed. I had to pry her off me, and when I tried to tell her to stop, she stuck her tongue into my mouth,” he says, throwing his hands up in the air. “All the while, drinking champagne. I had to pick her up and put her in her seat. I almost jumped into the front seat with the driver.”
“Oh, don’t pretend you didn’t like it.” I cock my hip. “Let’s be real. She’s the best thing you’ve been with in a long time.”
“I will agree with you on that,” he tells me. “She asked me to take her painting. Said it would be nice.” I look at him, waiting. “Why not? I thought.”
“Oh.” I put my hand to my mouth. “Like a painting class? That doesn’t sound bad.”
“That’s what I thought, too. I see them on Facebook, where everyone’s painting the same thing. It should be nice. I can maybe ask her about you, try to connive her to tell you to date me,” he says, going to the trunk of the limo and opening it. I wait as he takes a sheet out. “Painting. How bad could it be?” He opens the canvas, and all I see are different colors all smashed together. “I came out of the bathroom and came face-to-face with your grandmother.” I look at him as he talks. “Naked.” I try not to laugh. “Oh, and it gets so much better. Luigi, the painting instructor, was also naked.”
“Maybe they wanted you to paint them. Like David.” I try to make an excuse for it, but I swear it takes