go get dinner and talk? Possibly about nothing work-related?”
He might want to dig into our shared past to satisfy his curiosity, but I didn’t. I’d created a healthy distance from all the trauma of the bullying and shame, and I’d never once benefitted from reliving those memories. Now more than ever, I wanted distance from them because it was too easy these days to remember how much I had adored Miles Crowe before I’d hated him.
“That’s sweet, but I need to pass. Good luck with all the remodeling.” I moved toward the kitchen again.
“Wow, not even a raincheck, just a straight up pass?” He sounded curious, not mad.
“Yeah. Landlord.” I pointed to myself. “Tenant.” I pointed to him.
“Got it.” His jaw tightened. Then he sighed. “Will you at least promise me one thing?”
“What’s that?”
“Please consider this your space as much as it was before. Come down here any time, wander through any time. I’m never going to be doing something I have to hide, and I’ll feel better knowing I haven’t displaced you. I’ll put it in writing if it makes you feel better,” he said with a quick grin. “And if you ever want to wander in for a cold beer with a friend, I’m here for that.”
He wasn’t going to feel better unless I promised to drop in, so I nodded. “Okay. Thanks. I’ll wander in if the spirit moves me.”
I went upstairs to make a quick chicken stir fry for dinner, considering the conversation as I dug ingredients from the fridge. I didn’t want to start down the road that had opened up when Miles and I had danced at Miss Mary’s party. I was already verging too dangerously close to the crush I’d had on him back then, and Miles might be attracted to me right now, but I was nothing like the women he’d dated in LA. I didn’t have their level of glam. It would take airbrushing and a full-time makeup artist for me to reach their level of beauty. He’d get bored. Or a better offer.
There would be no such thing as a fling for me with Miles, and I didn’t want to put myself back together again when he was done and on to the next woman. I didn’t want to have to live above him or interact with him in a professional way if we dated and he moved on. There would be no moving on for me.
My mom always said, “Believe people when they show you who they are.” And Miles had done that. He was a good guy. I could see that. But he was not the guy for me.
Still...
I hated the idea of Miss Mary’s becoming a foreign space. What if Chloe and I could be as easy there as we’d always been with Miss Mary? What if we felt as free to pop our heads in to say hi to the kitchen staff and filch something to eat as we had the entire two years we’d lived here so far?
Miles made it sound like that’s what he wanted for us. I tried to imagine how it would feel to drop by before they got busy each day, to say hey to Miles and wander through the kitchen on my way upstairs after work.
If we kept it at that—hellos and easy chat as I passed through—that could work, right? It would be good to have this place feel comfortable.
I ate my stir fry and pictured it. Friendly greetings with the Turnaround staff. I already knew Jordan. It would be fun to keep up with new talent he brought in.
Maybe...
Maybe this would be okay.
Chapter Eighteen
Can I get your opinion?
It was a text from Miles. I hadn’t stopped by downstairs in three days, not since our last conversation. But the soundproofing had gone in Monday while I was at work, and Tuesday morning, I hadn’t even heard them start construction. I was curious about how it was coming along but stopping in at this point would be about seeing Miles. It wasn’t like he had any other staff hired for me to get to know. I’d decided to wait until he started hiring and training before trying out his invitation to become a familiar face.
Now, though, I stared at his message. Was he sending it from downstairs? I’d barely gotten home from work. Had he seen me drive in?
My opinion on what? I texted back.
Decorating stuff. I’m lost. You always had good ideas when we were looking at properties.