“Youweren’t,” I retorted. I was still smiling when he opened the door.
Mila stood there, looking calmer than she had in days. She glanced between us.
“Sorry it’s so late. Have I interrupted something?”
“No,” Dean answered in a heartbeat.
“Yes,” I insisted.
Mila nodded. “Good. Nice to see some things remain consistent.” She glanced at Dean. “I need to speak to Luka.”
He smiled. “Which translates as ‘Dean, could you take a walk for a minute?’” Before she could get another word out, Dean grabbed his jacket. “I’ll go on a coffee hunt. I didn’t want to sleep tonight anyway.” He pressed a kiss to my forehead. “Buzz me when it’s safe to come back.” Then he headed for the door. “I’ll leave you two to it.”
“Thank you,” Mila said earnestly.
The door closed behind him, and for a moment she stood there, looking around the room. Then she crossed to the chair by the desk and sat down, tucking one leg beneath her.
“I wanted to tell you before tomorrow,” she said eventually.
Her tone made me sit up straighter. “What is it?”
She met my gaze. “I’m going home.”
For a second I thought I’d misunderstood. “Home.”
Mila nodded. “Tomorrow morning.”
I stared at her. Out of everything I’d expected her to say, that hadn’t even occurred to me. “Mila…”
She gave a half smile. “I know exactly what you’re about to say.”
“Then why are you doing it?”
She gazed at her hands for a moment before answering. “Because I don’t want to disappear.”
My mind went blank.
Mila leaned back in the chair and let out a slow breath.
“Everyone keeps talking about leaving as though the difficult part is getting on the plane. It isn’t.” She swallowed. “The difficult part is everything you leave behind.”
I thought about the last conversation I’d had with my parents. About all the conversations Istillhadn’t had.
Mila’s gaze drifted toward the window. “My parents are still there. My grandmother’s still there. My brother’s still there.” She shrugged. “They’re going to hear about Donna. They’re going to hear about all of this. Half the country probably already knows.”
I couldn’t argue with that. “That happens when you post a picture of yourself and your girlfriend on Instagram.”
Her lips twitched. “Maybe not one of my better decisions.” She took a deep breath. “My family may never understand. But I want them to hear it from me.”
The certainty in her voice wasn’t defiance.
“I spent years trying to be the version of me everyone wanted,” she continued. “I don’t think I can leave without showing them who I actually am first.”
I ran my fingers through my unruly hair. “That sounds scary.”
She smiled. “Which is how I know it’s probably the right thing.” I laughed, and she seemed pleased with my response. “I knew you’d understand.”
“Unfortunately, I do.”
