And Miles isn’t. I want to respect that, but a flurry of words rushes back at me. His speech in the park... it was all about getting kicked and not staying down. About getting back in the fight after a loss.
Miles isn’t following his own advice. When it comes to relationships, he’s taken himself out of the game completely. Sidelined himself with an injured heart.
Well, well, well. Pot, meet Kettle.
I sit with the revelation for a few heavy seconds, then Duffy says my name.
“What?” I blink a few times, hoping to reenter this conversation.
“I said, is it better if I go?” he says. “These are your friends, not mine.”
I look around, choosing to tuck away my thoughts about Miles, at least for now, and I squeeze Duffy’s arm. “Youare one of my friends too.”
He grins. “You mean it?”
“Of course.” I smile at him.
“Good,” he says enthusiastically. “Because I’m starving.”
“Okay, it’s ready!” Daniel says over the chatter. “Come eat.”
We all move toward the table, piling plates with food, and I remember I have a sheet cake that I made sitting on the counter in my kitchen. “I’ll be right back.” I can’t be the only one who shows up empty-handed to this impromptu gathering, especially when I’m the reason for it.
Though everyone will probably be terrified to eat anything I baked.
I’m standing in my kitchen, cutting the cake into squares, when I hear movement in my living room. I turn and see Miles standing there, backlit by the dim light outside.
I gasp. “You scared me.”
“Sorry, I tried to be loud when I came over.” He takes a few steps toward me, and I can see a pensive look on his face.
I set the knife down and turn to face him. “You okay?”
He looks at me, frozen. “I don’t want you to be with the dentist.”
I go still. “You don’t?”
He shakes his head.
“Why not?”
“Because he’s wrong for you,” Miles says.
I frown. “How do you know that? You don’t even know him.”
“But I know you,” he says. “Or I think I do.”
At that, I smile. Right now, he might be the one person who knows me the best. I’ve told him things I haven’t told anyone else.
He inhales a deep breath and says, “I know I’ve given you a lot of mixed signals.”
I scoff. “You think?”
He pushes a hand through his hair, visible angst on his face. “I know. And I’m sorry.”
I wait, hoping he’ll go on. Hoping he’s about to tell me that he’s ready to try a relationship. That he wants to. Because of me.
But he goes silent.
