The screen has been on for hours. Literallyhours. Miles called me before ten this morning and now it’s nearly six. He’s stretched out on his bed in mismatched socks again—one lime green, one black with little sushi rolls. I’m on the couch, anArrowepisode playing on mute with subtitles on and a half-finished crochet square in my lap. Miles convinced me I needed to try something other than mice. He wasn’t wrong. Clematis has twenty of those now.
Clematis is softly snoring at my feet, one paw stretched out to touch me, like she’s trying to be a physical anchor for me.
We’ve been like this all day, just like we were last Monday. And the Monday before that. Hanging out while carrying on with our lives. Letting the distance shrink down to the size of a screen.
“Oh, shit!” Miles blurts. “My laundry finished hours ago!”
I chuckle. “Go get it. I’ll wait.”
While he’s gone, I make myself a ham and turkey sandwich, complete with tomato, lettuce, a healthy squirt of mustard, and the fresh jalapeño spread a customer gave me at work. It’s damn good, and I may need to hit him up for another jar next time I see him.
I’ve only let myself have take-out once since Miles left, and I was depressed as hell after. I don’t know if it was because of the food, but I haven’t wanted to try it again. Instead, I keep frozen meals on hand for when I have no energy. It’s not ideal, but it’s something.
When Miles returns, he’s dragging a canvas bag nearly as big as he is.
I arch an eyebrow. “Have you been ignoring your laundry or something?”
He huffs. “No. I got something.”
He dumps the bag on the bed, making Lily bolt. I see her tail disappear around the corner.
It takes him a moment to find what he’s looking for, then he holds it up, grinning big.
My heart seizes.
It’s a blanket with our picture on it! From Sunset Cliffs.
“Miles! That’s so cute.”
“You like it?”
“Yes! I want one.”
“Good, because this is actually yours,” he says sheepishly. “I bought it for you. But I’m going to snuggle it and sleep with it for a couple of weeks before mailing it to you.”
My eyes burn.
“And, I’m hoping it’ll make up for the sweatshirt I stole when I left,” he says quickly.
“Wait, that’s where it went? The green one? I’ve been looking for it.”
He hides his face. “Sorry! I just wanted something that smelled like you. And now, you’ll have something too. Until we can get together again.”
I swipe a finger under my eye. “I love you.”
We don’t say it often, because sometimes it hurts more than it helps. But I can’t help it. This is so thoughtful and sweet, and justexactlysomething Miles would do.
He leans in, filling the screen with his adorable and sweet round face. “I love you too.”
While he folds laundry, Miles and I startThe Great British Bake Offtogether. I don’t enjoy the show as much as him, but Idoenjoy listening to him bitch about the contestants. Who knew someone could get so emotional over a baking contest?
Miles stops folding a pair of scrub pants, face going red. “What are you… no! No! Oh, my god. Davis, you really need to learn how to knot the challah!”
I laugh. “Strong stance for someone who burned rice twice this week.”
“Hey! My pressure cooker betrayed me. That’s different.”
I grin. “Mm-hmm.”
