15. Milo

FIFTEEN

MILO

Joan Underwood was so swept up in managing the house for the holidays that she never got around to practicing that old piano. It wasn’t fair. She’d been talking about it even when we were boys, running around, and she still looked at it fondly as if it was the only thing she missed in life.

It stayed with me long after our dinner at Christian’s place, that longing look she’d cast at the piano when I’d asked if she played. The memory was with me on Thursday night when Christian was busy with his aunt Frannie, and I walked back down the avenue of memories to revisit Christian’s house on a summer afternoon when music was playing from their living room. It hadn’t been Joan’s music, but the player was still in town. I had seen Tony Eggert just a few weeks earlier. He’d come into my shop. He’d asked me how I was and told me how he’d studied music. He still remembered how Joan had let him use the old piano to practice.

Something like a plan was taking root in my mind.

When Christian came around late on Friday, I was wrapping up in the front of the shop. He strolled in, swept me off my feet, and kissed me like he’d been waiting all day to do just that.

I felt like fainting, fanning myself as I found my footing, and the heat rose into my face even though we had been doing this for nearly four weeks. Every kiss I got from Christian felt like the first kiss.

“What’s that for?” I asked, pressing the cleaning cloth against the surface of the wooden table and clearing away the water rings my few customers had left behind.

“Do I need a reason?” Christian asked, his ears perking and his face bright with joy.

“Not at all,” I assured him. “Feel free to sweep me off my feet whenever you feel like it.”

Christian considered it carefully, then made a step toward me. “I feel like it.”

I let him kiss me again, and then he offered to help sweep the floors. I was all too glad to let him.

“Did you get a chance to look over the books?” I asked idly, fearing his answer despite my best effort to remain optimistic. Things just needed time.

Christian scratched the back of his head, eyes focused on the work before him. “Uh, yeah. I did.”

“Not good?” I asked, knowing what he was like when he needed to break the bad news.

“Not terrible,” Christian said, letting the broom lean against the wall and facing me. He came a few steps toward me and put on his compassionate face. It was warm and kind and made for kissing. “Look, I won’t lie to you. You’re barely breaking even during the peak traffic season. Your reserves are low when you should be filling up your coffers like every other store in town.”

I nodded bravely. I’d known all this, but hearing someone say it aloud was a lot more sobering than I had expected.

“I don’t know if Jingle Bites can go on for a year until the festival is on again, Milo,” Christian said with all the softness and gentleness in the world. His face melted into sadness as he looked at me. “It’s not the end, Milo. Things can turn around. I’m only telling you what the trend has been so far, so don’t lose hope just yet.”

I shook my head. “It’s alright.” My voice was surprisingly raw.

“Couldn’t we get the local business to sign up with you? Kody would do it in a heartbeat.” Christian’s tone grew a little more urgent.

I shook my head. “I can’t bring my prices down, Christian. éclair can run at a loss until they drive me out, and I won’t ask the shop owners in town to increase their expenses for the sake of my shop.”

Christian frowned. “But éclair will just drive up their prices when there’s no competition left.”

“Yes, but it won’t be me asking for charity,” I said, my voice rough as I turned away from him.

Christian’s arms wrapped around me from behind. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright,” I said, yet I furiously swiped the tears away from my eyes. Perhaps this was the right moment to accept things the way they were. Perhaps it was better than to live in denial for too long. “I knew this, Christian. I knew all of this already. I don’t know why I’m crying.”

“Shhh,” he whispered into my ear, holding me together like I was about to shatter. And maybe I was. Maybe all that was keeping me whole were his strong arms around my torso and his heated lips on my neck. “We’ll make it work. We’ll find a way to make everything work.”

“Not here,” I whispered. “Not in this shop.” I never should have prompted him. Not tonight, at least. I had wanted us to light the candles and play Christmas-themed board games tonight. I had wanted us to go into the festival’s final days with high spirits and all the cheer we could muster. I had wanted us to kiss under the mistletoe at the closing event on Monday. This only added doom and gloom to what was supposed to be a lovely time.

“Then we’ll go somewhere else and start over,” Christian said.

But I had spent so many years yearning to return to Christmas Falls. I had spent my life waiting for someone to invent time travel so I could step back into the endless summer days and long winter nights when Christian and I were busy playing Vex and Finn, or pirates, or building doomed tree-houses.

I couldn’t leave Christmas Falls and all the memories that soaked its ground, houses, and shops. I couldn’t leave the fields of snow angels and the tree farm where we used to sneak in to pretend we were lost in a labyrinth, chased by the fearsome Minotaur.

“We can go to New York if you’d like. I was going to tell you next week, but I suppose now’s as good as any time. I’ve been in touch with Laura’s uncle. He’s a game developer in New York, and he offered me a job. They’re making Shattered Horizons , and the head of marketing left. They want me to take on the project. Can you believe it?”

He must have felt the stiffness in my muscles. He must have felt the tension in my body. His enthusiasm died a quick death as I froze, my heart hammering with devastating panic.

“Milo?” he asked, concern dripping from his voice.

Was he serious? Was he still dreaming of leaving this place behind?

I didn’t know.

How could I know? We had spent these weeks talking about our childhood, never daring to touch on the future. Because we knew, I realized. We knew we were going in different directions. Not right away and not before Christmas, but we were still trapped in vastly different currents. The boy whose dreams were too big for a small town like this and the boy who’d never wanted anything other than spending the rest of his days here.

Except, many years ago, the dreamer had been left behind, and the boy who wanted Christmas Falls had been ripped out of his little slice of heaven.

“Um…” My voice cracked as soon as I tried to speak. I shrugged Christian off and stepped away from him, not turning around. I couldn’t face him just yet.

“It’s just a thought,” Christian explained hurriedly. “We haven’t agreed on any details. I think I’ll get the official offer on Monday. But… Shattered Horizons ? Remember?”

The happiness in his voice was killing me. If someone had wanted to design a trap to lure him away from me, this would have been the perfect one. He’d adored those comics as a boy. And it was the dream job in New York City.

“I do,” I said, finding a well of inner calm that this situation needed. “It’s wonderful news, Christian,” I said, but my voice failed to convey that.

“I didn’t mean to upset you,” he said immediately.

I forced myself to turn around and look at him.

“God, Milo,” he said, his face collapsing from worry to guilt. “What was I thinking? We were talking about your shop…” He shook his head.

“It’s okay,” I said calmly. “My shop’s failing. There’s nothing more to talk about.”

He perked up slightly as if the prospect of my shop going bust meant we would get our happily ever after in the big city. Didn’t he realize that I would do anything else before living anonymously in a place that would swallow me whole for breakfast?

“I know,” I said quietly. “I know this is something you need to do.”

“No,” he blurted, eyes widening in alarm. “We should do this. The two of us together. I’m sorry, Milo. I picked the worst moment. I thought…I don’t know. I thought it might be a consolation to know that we won’t be left with nothing if the worst happens here.”

“But the worst is going to happen,” I insisted. “A week from now, when the town empties, I won’t be able to cover my costs. In three months, I’ll be out of cash. In six months, I’ll be so far behind on rent that I’ll be kicked out of here. And you…you’ll be in New York, Christian, where you belong.”

“No, no, no,” he hurried.

“Let’s not pretend anymore,” I said, taking another step back. “This was wonderful, Christian. Every second was absolutely wonderful. And it was more than I ever dared to hope for. But we both knew all along that we were going in opposite directions.”

“What? I didn’t know that,” Christian said, panicking. “Nobody knew that.”

I balled my fists and extracted the last ounces of strength out of my body. “Don’t you see? We avoided this topic for a month, Christian. We never talked about it because we knew that this is how it ended.”

His eyes were wide and glimmering with unspilled tears. “Milo, please. We’re talking about it now.”

I shook my head. “I’m not leaving this town, Christian.”

“Fine,” he said, lifting his head hopefully. “Neither am I. We’re staying here.”

Why did he have to make it so hard? Why did I have to spell it out for him? Hot tears rolled down my cheeks, and I shook my head. “No, Christian. You need to go. You need to take that offer.”

“I won’t,” he said. “It’s just a job. There’ll be another.”

I began to turn away from him and hesitated after a moment, not quite turning my back on him. “And then what?”

“Then, we’ll make it work,” Christian said, that momentary air of confidence draining from him.

“You’re going to resent me,” I said. He shook his head furiously, but I didn’t let him fight me. “When some time passes and things get bad, you’re going to look at me, and you’re going to see the reason for all your misfortune in me. You’re going to remember this night, Christian, and you’re going to tell me that you made the wrong choice. And it will be too late.”

I took a step away from him, but he grabbed my wrist just tightly enough to hold me still. “That’s not true.”

I turned around to look at him. He couldn’t promise that. Even now, even when his heart was pumping panicked, misguided hope into every corner of his body, he couldn’t make himself promise that.

“But it is,” I said heavily, barely holding myself together.

“Don’t,” he whispered. “Please.”

I drew a deep breath of air and looked into his eyes. His grip on me loosened, and I slipped my hand free. Instead of going away, I lifted that hand and put it on his beautiful face. I love you with every fiber of my being , I thought as I looked into his eyes. And because of that, I need to let you go .

“Goodbye, Christian,” I whispered, tempted to plant one last kiss on his lips to have something good to remember, then deciding not to do that. Our last kiss had been passionate and hopeful, not a farewell.

I tore myself free of him and spun around, making for the hallway that led to my studio.

A whisper of a plea came from Christian, but I didn’t look back. Instead, I went in and crossed the cold studio to the window. Nothing. For what felt like an eternity, there was nothing. Streetlamps gave off their cozy glow, but nothing moved out there. And I held my breath. I held it in until my lungs burned.

Christian’s figure seemed small as he slouched and walked out of the shop. He hurried away from me and my world, losing himself in the distance. And when he was almost out of sight, he paused, turned around, and looked right at me in the window as if he could feel my gaze on him.

He lingered there as my body shuddered and shook. Then, slowly, he lowered his head and turned away.

It was for the better.

In some alternative reality, Christian took me away with him, and I left everything I loved for the sake of being with him. I suffered quietly until the day I woke up resenting him.

In another universe, I made him stay with me. I made him leave his dreams in the city and stay here for the rest of our days. And he hated me for it. Secretly, at first. In small ways, his resentment grew. He dismissed me in some joyful moment, making me feel silly for being happy when all his dreams withered away. He saw something I loved in a shop window, then felt a tickle of rage and refused to buy it. Bit by bit, he hated me more until we were older and wiser and sadder. And then, he told me so. After some mundane misunderstanding, the floodgates opened, and he told me how he had sacrificed his dreams for my sake, and we were never able to move on from that.

This was the only right way for things to end. It hurt like hell, but it hurt far less than any other outcome I could see. Because to be hated by him after all we had been through was a little death I feared the most.