"You, too," I reply as I step onto the front porch.
We exchange a final glance before she closes the door and severs the bit of comfort I found with her. In another life I could see us being friends, having fun together, gossiping about boys and brands.
But our fates have already been sealed in this lifetime, and we no longer belong to ourselves, not now, not ever.
17
MILLER
Ipace the large boardroom in our West Coast office, picking up my phone and putting it back down countless times over.
"Get it together, man," I tell myself.
Why am I so nervous to make a phone call when my life is filled with crime and danger on a daily basis?
The thing buzzes in my hand, and I ignore the unknown number. That's a problem for another time.
A knock sounds on the door, a sweet older woman on the other side. There's no telling how long she's been watching me pace, the floor-to-ceiling walls of glass providing me with no shelter from prying eyes.
I motion for her to come in. "What is it, Marjorie?"
Her gaze stays toward the floor. "I'm sorry to interrupt, sir. I wanted to confirm your two o'clock with Mr. Adler."
"You didn't interrupt, but yes, I'm still on to meet with Dominic this afternoon."
"Very well. Thank you, sir."
"Marjorie?" I catch her before she leaves, her eyes darting up briefly but not meeting mine.
"Yes, sir?"
"You can call me Miller. No need for the formalities."
She smiles politely and nods. "Thank you, sir Miller."
The second she shuts the door behind her I yank out my phone and hit the button I've been avoiding the last half hour and press the device to my ear. It rings once, twice, three times.
Just when I'm convinced it's going to go to voicemail, it connects.
"Hello?" Her voice is a bit strained and cracks.
"Cora, hey, it's Miller."
"Oh." Cora's tone shifts and she sniffles. "Hey, what's up?"
"What's wrong?" I ask her. "Are you crying?"
"No, no," she blurts out. "It's my allergies. They’re really bad this time of year."
Only, I checked the weather this morning and saw that pollen counts are at an all-time low and probably shouldn't be impacting anyone. Who am I to question or disagree with her though? Maybe she's not lying and she has some rare allergen that isn't listed on the weather app I was checking.
"Are you sure? I'm here if you ever need someone to talk to." I regret the words the second they're out of my mouth. It isn't that I don't want to be her soundbox, but she barely knows me, why would she trust me that easily?
"Thanks, but no, really, I'm okay." She sniffles again and my fist balls up at the idea of someone making her cry. "What can I help you with?"
"Oh, right. I called because I was hoping we could get together." I fidget the back of one of the boardroom chairs.
"Yeah, of course. We need to discuss the designs."
