“Milo?”
Milo—itwasMilo, I wasn’t just having a ridiculously vivid hallucination—turned to look at me. He was still wearing a business shirt with the collar unbuttoned and one of those pairs of tailored pants that made his butt look incredible. His hair was ruffled and his stubble was kind of a mess and the dark circles were back, darker than ever.
But he smiled at me, and his eyes lit up with it.
He was the sexiest thing I’d ever seen.
“Finally getting around to making you breakfast,” he said, turning off the gas and sliding bacon—and eggs—onto yesterday’s toasted sourdough. “Kick me out or yell at me or whatever if you want,” he added. “But I kept promising you I’d do this, and now I have. And I’m sorry it took me this long.”
“To make breakfast?” I asked. “Or to come back?”
Milo shrugged, turning to me with the softest, shiest look on his face. “Both,” he said. “You deserve so much better.”
“You weren’t gone all that long,” I pointed out.
Okay, I’d hated every second of it, and it’d felt like a thousand years, but it was only a little over twenty-four hours.
“Felt like a lifetime,” Milo said.
“Two lifetimes,” I agreed, still hovering by the door.
I wanted to go to him. I didn’t care that he’d left, I was just glad he was here. Maybe that was because Iwasa pushover, or a doormat, or whatever anyone might think of me—whatever Brady might have thought of me—but I didn’t care.
“The flowers,” Milo said, nodding to a bouquet set in a mug I’d forgotten about owning on the counter. “There’s, umm. There’s peonies and olive leaves again. But there’s also a hyacinth, for forgiveness, and roses, for…”
“Love,” I finished for him. Even I understood that one.
Milo nodded.
“Did you break into the florist to do that?” I asked.
Milo smiled wryly. “I have a key, but… yeah, more or less,” he said. “Listen, I shouldn’t have disappeared like I did. I wanted… I could see I wasn’t what you deserved. I meant what I said, in the note. You should have someone who’s there for you every single day. I thought I could live with that being someone else, but I can’t. I’ve never felt like this about anyone before so I might have quit my job and now would be a good time to kick me out if you’re not interested because if you let me stay you’ll never get rid of me again,” he rambled, fiddling with one of his shirt buttons the entire time.
The next heartbeat I was in the kitchen with my arms wrapped around Milo so tight he was probably struggling to breathe.
“Oh,” he said by my ear, hands light on my back, like he couldn’t quite believe this was happening. “I had more apology to go.”
“You’re here,” I said. “That’s apology enough.”
Milo’s arms finally tightened around me, squeezing me even harder than I was squeezing him.
“Did you really quit?” I asked.
“Quit is a strong word,” Milo said. “More like I got myself fired.”
He fumbled in his pocket to show me a text from his dad that just readI told you I’d fire you and I meant it. Consider yourself fired.
“He sent that atmidnight?” I asked.
Milo shrugged. “I was already coming back here,” he said. “Got it when I stopped for gas.”
I let go of him then, but only so I could brush my thumb over his lips, only so I could curl my fingers around the back of his neck and pull him down to brush my mouth against his, touch our foreheads together.
“You didn’t have to,” I said.
“I did it for me,” Milo murmured. “Someone a lot wiser than I am asked if I loved my job more than you. And I don’t. You know what I love? I love being here, with you, and Dawn, and the babies, and making friends, and waking up every morning and not dreading the day ahead. I love you and I love the life I have here and I don’t know exactly how it’ll turn out, but if it’s with you, Iwantit. If you’ll have me?”
I grinned, sliding my free hand into Milo’s and linking our fingers together. “I think I will,” I said, laughing as I tugged him toward the bedroom.
