They sat quietly for a beat, barely more than a few breaths, but somehow long enough for the mood to settle and shift into something more serious as Milo reached for his phone and accepted the AirDrop.
He glanced sideways at her. “I met with my lawyer yesterday.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah. I’ve got everything I need to move forward. The trap was perfectly executed, and they couldn’t have made it more obvious if they’d been conscious of the cameras. We could easily go off the porch film alone . . . if needed.”
Eliana nodded, a knot of dread settling in her gut. She’d gone into this scheme with eyes wide open, knowing where it would end. And yet, she felt wholly unprepared for the repercussions. She hadn’t found new housing yet. Nor had she saved nearly enough. But she’d figure it out. She was smart and strong, and if push came to shove, her parents would support her.
But then Milo held out his phone, displaying a video clip from his own back porch, angled towards the door. They’d skipped past this video when they’d first reviewed the footage, opting to watch what had occurred inside the house, but now Eliana understood what Milo was telling her.
The clip showed Bea, clear as day, in her doorway. Her loose curls dancing in the frantic winds, doing nothing to cover the silky pajama set that left little to the imagination. Her eyes were clear as she surveyed the man on her stoop, her teeth sinking into her plush bottom lip.
Jesse, on the other hand, was wearing a hood, pulled low over his face, his back to the camera. He never once turned. Never looked away from the woman before him.
“I can keep his name out of it . . . if you want,” Milo said quietly.To give you time, he left unspoken.
Eliana’s breath hitched at the kindness in his unexpected offer. The sudden freedom to choose wasmomentarily debilitating as she considered the options at hand and the raging emotions threatening to drag her under.
Her desperation to be free warring with the knowledge that she wasn’t ready. Her anger against her fear. Her pride against her embarrassment.
She nodded, swallowing hard against the lump in her throat. “I’m not ready,” she said aloud, letting the truth sit heavy between them. “I’ll keep things normal for the girls through the holidays. That gives me a couple of months to save, to figure out what Jesse’s got going on with his boss, and our financials. To get my shit in order. Then I’ll end it,” she said, her tone resolute.
It was surreal to think that the day she’d found the lilies, her first definitive sign, had not even occurred a full two months past, in mid-September. Another two months were manageable. It would be tight to get what she needed, but she’d make it happen. She didn’t think she had it in her to carry on longer.
“Thank you,” she whispered, grateful for the additional time, even if it felt like she’d just signed her name to a voluntary two-month prison sentence.
Milo was nodding when Eliana’s gaze rose, but his eyes were surprisingly guarded for the first time since she’d flagged him down in their backyards and told him the truth. Then she blinked, and the expression was gone. He flashed her an encouraging smile, the warmth returning to his eyes. “No stress, Bugs, we’re in this together.”
21
HAUYNE
Milo
The oven dinged just as the front door opened, and a smile stole across Milo’s lips.Perfect timing,he thought, as he carried his handmade lasagna to the table. He lit two candles and then slipped back into the kitchen for a pair of wine glasses.
Bea’s heels clicked down the hall, snapping to a halt just inside the dining room entry. “Milo?” She called out, a note of unease in her tone.
“Be right there,” he answered. He paused long enough to school his expression before walking back through the door—wine bottle in one hand, glasses in the other.
Bea looked . . . bewildered. She hesitated where she stood, fingers drumming a frantic rhythm against her clutch as she eyed the elaborate spread of dishes and finery. Milo could almost see the mental gymnastics she was performing, desperately working to determine which event she’d forgotten.
“Are you not going to sit?” Milo asked after the tense moment began to drift into awkward territory.
The question served to break Bea from her trance. She startled, then jerked forward, pulling out the closest seat in a rush. She cleared her throat. “Don’t hate me . . . but I think I’ve forgotten the occasion.”
“Does a man need an occasion to treat his wife?”
“Oh,” Bea breathed as she watched him pour the wine. “It smells amazing.” She paused, and the silence grew weighty . . . loaded with the questions she was clearly fighting the urge to ask. The delay was short-lived, however, as with most inconveniences, Bea’s patience for subtlety crumpled swiftly. “Is there something to celebrate? A new client?”
“Not at all.” Milo smiled pleasantly. “We’ve just been so busy with work lately, I thought we were overdue for a good talk.”
Bea nodded, clearly not convinced, yet too uncertain to push the matter further. Milo pulled out a chair opposite her place at the table and took a seat, flashing her a quick smile before scooping a large helping onto his plate. Bea followed suit, though she continued to cast nervous glances his way throughout dinner, anxious for him to speak so she could make better sense of the night. Occasionally, he would straighten up and glance her way, like he was about to ask a question, and then, just as soon as she returned his attention, he’d turn back to his plate and quietly revel in her tiny sigh of frustrated confusion.
But just as he swallowed his final bite, Milo pulled out a large, flat, black box from the chair beside him and slid it across the table, offering a wink when Bea’s eyes grew wide at the unmistakable packaging.
“What is this?” she asked.
