22. Milo

Sure enough,barely an hour later, my phone goes off, and it's none other than Keaton.

Keaton: Change into your PJs and pack an overnight bag. I'll be there in 10.

What are you planning, you crazy, crazy man?

"Okay, missy. We've got a surprise on the way, so you need to get changed," I tell Nia, who looks up from her game and rolls her eyes with a huff.

I can already see hints of the teenager she's going to turn into, and all I have to say is Sierra is going to have quite the blast.

At least she's a smart girl. Although I don't know if that will be a blessing or a curse when it comes to her adolescent attitude. I can already see Nia using her own intelligence against her mom.

While Nia gets changed in the bathroom, I pack an overnight bag and program the cat feeder. We must ensure Princess gets her meals, or there will be hell to pay.

When we both emerge into the living room, we couldn't look more ridiculous for going out. Nia is in full Ninja Turtles apparel, and I'm wearing some war-torn shorts and a cream tank top that used to be white once upon a time. We look ready for bed. Not ready to go out.

Keaton, you better not embarrass me in front of my goddaughter.

"Now what? What's the surprise?" Nia asks. I shrug.

The buzzer goes off, saving me from a stare-off I'm certain to lose, and when I answer it, I get another text message.

Keaton: Come on down. Both of you.

I look at myself in the full-length mirror by the door and grimace.

"Come on, hon. Let's get going."

We put shoes and jackets on and take the elevator. I see it when I open the front door, and a part of me wishes I could run right back inside.

A long black limo is parked right outside, and when we approach, the back door opens.

Keaton is sitting inside wearing a dark-green hoodie with matching sweatpants that look like they've just come off the rack and a pair of shades that make him look as rich as he is. Only rich people can afford to go out like that and look glamorous.

"Go on," I urge Nia and follow suit behind her.

Once we're both in, Keaton shuts the door, and we're on the road in seconds.

"Hey," he says and offers me his sexy-as-sin grin. I want to kiss him—I really do—but I hold back.

Besides, it's not like we're in a real relationship, right? We don't need to do all the smoochy stuff couples do.

"Hey."

"Who do we have here?" He turns his attention to Nia, who smiles back at him shyly.

"I'm Nia."

"Nice to meet you, Nia. I'm?—"

"Milo's boyfriend. I know."

"Oh," Keaton says.

"Why are you surprised? Didn't you know? The whole world knows."

I hide my laughter as Keaton is taken aback by Nia's response.

"Well, nice to meet you anyway. I love your pajamas," he says after Nia has stopped laughing at him and I've composed myself.

"Thanks. Why are we in pajamas anyway?"

"Yeah. And why aren't you in PJs? I feel severely underdressed," I add to Nia's question.

Keaton looks down at his own clothes and grimaces.

"These are my PJs."

Nia rolls her eyes.

"If those are your PJs, I'm the president." I stare at him, and he stares back for several moments until he puts his hands up.

"Fine. I don't do PJs, but I sent Jessica for them, and this is what she came back with."

"And Jessica would be?" Nia asks.

"My personal assistant?" he answers as if it's the most natural thing in the world.

"You need a personal assistant to buy you PJs? Wow. And Mom complains when I have her make my cocoa."

I burst out laughing even though Keaton looks wounded as a bird.

He's cute like that. And I can't say I don't appreciate Nia bringing him down a peg or two, if only for the entertainment value.

"Okay, Nia, that's enough. Keaton is being all nice and taking us…um…where are you actually taking us?"

He pouts and looks out the window.

"You'll have to wait and see, I suppose."

Once again, I feel the urge to slide into his seat and kiss him, or to at least take his hand in mine and apologize for messing with him, but I don't.

Our relationship is strictly professional. Obviously, with sex included, but no feelings. Feelings aren't included. Ever.

Half an hour later, we come to a stop. I look outside only to find an Italian deli on one side and a small movie theater entrance on the other.

Keaton's smile reappears as he opens the door and holds it for both of us before he runs to the glass double doors of the theater and produces a key out of his pocket.

"Ta-da!" he says as he unlocks the door, which, of course, makes the sound lose some of its glamour, so he repeats it when we're standing on the other side of the double doors.

The reception hall walls are covered in posters from all the latest movie releases. The ticket booth is empty and the blinds down, but the concession stand is buzzing with lights and mechanical life.

"Welcome to the Little Harlem Theater Hall. The place is ours for the weekend, so we drink, eat, and watch to our hearts' content." Keaton spreads his hands wide open like a showman.

"Are you serious?"

"Entirely and unequivocally," he says, and I can't help it when I wrap myself around him.

I've held back long enough. There's only so long a man can resist an irresistible man.

"Did you really rent a movie theater for the entire weekend? How?"

He squeezes me tight and stares into my eyes like I mean more to him than I should, and I can't help it if, for a second—or several seconds—I buy the fairy tale.

"I wanted to do something nice for both of you, and Jessica worked her magic."

He looks from me to Nia and smiles from ear to ear.

Fucker.

Does he have to be so handsome when he smiles?

"But how? On such short notice? I'm sure they had reserve…"

In the end, it doesn't matter. Anything is possible when you've got the kind of money Keaton has, and I'm sure the owners have been more than fairly compensated for losing out on their regular clientele.

"I've been told the owners have left instructions everywhere so we can put on whatever movies we want and make as much popcorn as we please. It shouldn't be too hard to figure out. So? What do you think?"

I turn to Nia, if for nothing else than to allow myself a breath or two before I look back at Keaton.

"I love it," Nia says.

"Me too," I say and kiss Keaton's cheek.

I don't miss how he squeezes the small of my back tighter in response, but then we pull away as Nia runs for the concession stand and starts filling the largest bucket with sweet and salty popcorn.

"I'm gonna get so fat!" she says with glee, and I join her, filling my own bucket.

"Me too!"

"Let's all get fat and happy!" Keaton adds, grabbing the extra-large soda cups and filling them with our preferences.

Loaded with provisions, we jump into one of the rooms.

"What movie do you want to start with, Ms. Nia?"

"Scream!" Nia shouts, and we both look at her with horror in our eyes.

"Um…" Keaton says.

"I think that's a little too grown up for you, don't you think?"

Nia shrugs.

"Friday the 13th?"

I grimace.

"Not if you ever want to sleep again."

"Halloween?"

If I could put my hands on my hips and stare at her, I would, but since my hands are occupied, I just settle for a stare-down.

"Fine. I'll go with whatever. You guys are no fun." She plonks herself into one of the front seats and starts eating her popcorn while Keaton goes to take care of the technical side.

Soon enough, the screen comes to life, and Pitch Perfect comes on.

"I hope that's okay," he says when he returns to the room and sits beside me.

"Oh, she watches worse with her mom, so yeah." I toss some popcorn into my mouth and sink back into the seat.

Nia laughs and sings along throughout the movie and keeps turning to me, so, of course, I join the sing-a-long, and before long, we're all on our feet, dancing and singing at the top of our lungs.

By the time the movie ends, I'm all hoarse and tired, but Nia is restless, so Keaton puts Pitch Perfect 2 on for her, making her even giddier.

When he settles down next to me again, I lean over and lay my head on his shoulder.

"Thank you," I tell him.

"For what?" he asks, and I look at him.

"Are you kidding? All of this. Doing this. Getting this place for us. Putting such a smile on her face."

Keaton turns his upper body to face me fully and grabs my chin with soft, delicate hands.

"It's my pleasure," he says.

A shiver runs down my spine without rhyme or reason, simply from him talking and looking deep into my eyes.

God, why can't I stop looking back at him, and why can't I stop shivering under his touch?