17. Chapter Seventeen

Rich women adored Miles Aldrich.

As soon as we walked into the gallery, they fawned over him. And the wild thing was, his gold plating flowed onto me. Because I was with him, as his girlfriend, they were interested in finding out my name. No one asked if I was part of that Dunham family, and if it had occurred to them, they hadn't found it necessary to confirm since I had Miles' approval.

He was good at schmoozing without making it feel like schmoozing. I'd felt his charisma more than once, but watching him work his magic from the outside was fascinating.

When I wasn't watching Miles, I was checking out the space. With polished concrete floors and crisp, white walls, the gallery was chic and surprisingly expansive. There were a lot of people here tonight, but the wide-open spaces allowed everyone to spread out, pretending to check out the art while checking out each other.

"I call them meat cups," Miles explained to a woman dripping in diamonds.

The woman giggled then addressed me. "Oh, I'm sure you adore when he does that, don't you, darling?"

I hugged Miles' arm and made a show of giving him a pinch. "Let's just say he's lucky he's so cute."

She winked at me. "I think we're all lucky for that."

After a moment or two and Miles slipping her my business card, we wandered away, trying to catch a waiter carrying canapes. All the trays had been cleaned out. The bar on the far side of the spacious room was my only hope.

"Okay, if I can't eat, I'm getting a drink. Think they have pink lemonade?"

His hand slid down my back, resting just above the curve of my ass. "Let's go find out."

"Are you sure? I can get drinks for both of us."

He cupped my elbows and pinned me with a hard stare. "I'm not going to vault over the bar and guzzle a liter of vodka. To be honest, I'm pretty solid in my sobriety tonight, and having you with me certainly helps that." He stepped into me, his hand leaving my elbow to return to the small of my back. "You don't worry about me when we're at these things. It's my job to worry about you, Daisy…what's your middle name again?"

"Wha—?" I lifted my eyes to his. He wasn't getting me to say it. Once had been enough. "I don't have one."

"Lies." His eyes narrowed. "You do have one. You told me it once. Daisy Eth—"

"Don't say it," I warned.

"It's either I say it or I commit light torture."

I shimmied my shoulders to distract him. "And what if I like a little light torture?"

He groaned. "Daisy Devil. That suits you better than Ethel."

"Okay, sure. We'll go with that." I nodded toward the bar, still partially hidden by several layers of people. "Weren't we grabbing a drink?"

"Were we?"

I slipped my arm through his. "Come on, Spreadsheet. I'm parched."

We wove through the crowd, finally making it to the bar, and stopped short.

My girl Bea was tending bar in a white button-down and bowtie. I almost hadn't recognized her with her thick, chestnut hair pulled back in a low ponytail.

"Bea! You're a brunette."

She tugged a clump of strands. ‘It's a wig."

I leaned my elbows on the bar. "It looks good on you."

"I prefer the blue, but this job doesn't let me have unnaturally dyed hair, so here we are." Her gaze flicked to Miles then back to me. "You hanging out with Preppy?"

"Miles knows where all the free food and drinks are," I hedged. I didn't want anyone to know about my near-future plans, so there was no need to explain why I'd begun hanging out with him. "So, this is your second job?"

"Or my first, depending on how you look at it. I'm on call with the catering company whenever they need me."

"Good money?"

"Better than retail, but not as good as Nick's. That's why I like these events during the week. I can still take my Friday and Saturday night waitressing shifts."

"Hope you make bank tonight." I drummed my nails on the glass countertop. "By any chance do you have pink lemonade back there?"

"Hmmm…" She tapped her chin. "Will you settle for yellow?"

I huffed. "If I have to, but I won't be happy about it."

"Complaint department closed," she deadpanned.

Miles snickered as he wound his arm around my waist from behind. He was good at this fake boyfriend thing. I couldn't say what I'd expected from him when I'd agreed to this idea, but I didn't think it was this. That might have been because I'd spent the last seven years with a man deathly allergic to even mild public displays of affection. Andy might have held my hand on Valentine's Day and my birthday, but that was a stretch. Miles hadn't stopped touching some part of me all evening, and I had found myself joining in on the action.

It was nice being able to lean on the man I was with, assured I wasn't bothering him or making him uncomfortable.

We took our drinks from Bea with a thank you. It didn't get past me that Miles had slipped a fifty in her tip jar, nor did I miss her grabbing it and stuffing it in her bra.

"Come, let's actually look at the art." Miles pressed my back with his palm, guiding me to the edges of the room.

We stopped in front of a mural that reminded me of the spinny art I used to do as a kid. There was a red dot next to the nametag, indicating someone had actually purchased it. I would have never claimed to be an expert on art, but I couldn't see any possible reason this thing was worth the hefty price attached to it.

Miles brushed my hair aside and dipped to put his lips next to my lobe. "This looks like it was made with a spin art kit."

I tried to hold my laugh in. I'd hate for the artist to overhear, not to mention all the people we were trying to impress tonight.

"Shut up, Miles."

"Tell me you weren't thinking it."

I heaved a sigh and twisted so my front was brushing his. "Of course I was. I loved making spin art. Though…I don't think a canvas this size would have fit in my little machine."

"Chances are, you're right. I bet this guy built his own."

"His own machine?"

"Mmmhmm. For that, I add two points."

Miles carried on discussing his rating system, and I listened as we walked from piece to piece. When my glass was empty, he plucked it from my hand and set it down on a table with other discarded dishes.

I scanned the space, catching sight of a familiar head of chocolate brown hair above the crowd. Andy had always been a head taller than everyone else. Leave it to him to stick out like a sore thumb and make his presence known.

Warm fingers cupped my face, turning my head until we were almost nose to nose. "What are you looking at, Daisy-daze? You feel okay?"

"My ex is here. I didn't think he'd be in a place like this."

Miles turned, scanning the crowd. "The guy in the green button-down?"

"I don't know. I didn't get a good look at what he was wearing. Is he with someone?"

It felt like a hundred years passed before he answered.

"Uh, I think so. He's holding hands with a blonde—"

"Fuck," I whispered. "Fuckity, fuck, fuck, fuck. I didn't, I—"

His thumbs stroked my cheeks and the corners of my mouth. "They're going to pass right by us. No way for us to escape."

Reaching up, I clutched his wrists, panic making my heart gallop. I'd thought about this moment many times, but it was always a year or two in the future when I had my shit together, was leading some fabulous life, Andy a distant memory. This was way too soon. Two months wasn't enough time for me to be able to play it cool.

"Hide me, Miles. I'm not ready to see him. Please."

His eyes darted to the side then back, bouncing between mine with indecision.

"Please, Miles."

He exhaled, his thumbs pressing the sides of my mouth. "All right. Fuck it. I'm going to kiss you now."

He only gave me a second to inhale before his warm lips were on mine. I froze, my brain and limbs offline, then his lips moved over mine, gently slotting between them, and I awoke. My body moved into his on instinct, grasping his shoulders to bring us closer.

Firm, leisurely presses of his lips made my toes curl in my booties. I leaned in for more. It was easy to forget the reason we were doing this and fall into the sweetest kiss I'd ever experienced.

My lips parted ever so slightly, and our tongues met, tip to tip. We both tasted like lemonade, like summer and home. Miles groaned, his fingers slipping into my hair. I chased his lips and tongue, nipping and sucking before he came back with a firm press, taking my breath away.

Glass shattering somewhere in the distance brought me back to the present, and I jerked away. Miles pulled back a little more slowly, touching his lips to my forehead as he straightened. The kiss was over, but not our connection. He wrapped his arms around me and brought me straight into his chest for a hug.

"I don't think that worked," he murmured.

"What?" My thoughts were still in soft focus. "What didn't work?"

"The kiss. Your ex is now glaring at me from the bar like he's going to stab me with one of those cocktail swords."

I gripped the back of his shirt, dread replacing the pool of warmth in my belly. "Bea wouldn't let him. She'd stab him first."

He nudged my chin with his knuckle to tilt my face back. "We need to make a decision right now. Go, or stay and face the douche?"

I puffed my cheeks and blew out a heavy breath. We were here for a reason—and it had nothing to do with Andy. Besides, we were bound to run into each other again, and I couldn't run away every time.

"I'm not going to let Andy mess anything up for me. I was here first, so I'm staying."

Something rumbled in Miles' chest. "That's a brave, good girl. Proud of you." He kissed the top of my head, and my toes curled in pleasure again. "Come on. Let's look at some art. Maybe Bea will poison him, and this will all be moot."

An hour later, we still hadn't run across Andy. He must've been sticking to the other side of the gallery. I excused myself to use the restroom while Miles chatted with a few men his father knew from their country club.

When I stepped out of the bathroom into the short hallway, I realized my mistake in letting my guard down. Andy was leaning against the opposite wall, clearly waiting for me.

I nodded, intent on breezing past him. I did not wait to listen to anything he had to say. Of course, he couldn't let things lie and caught me by the bicep.

I yanked my arm away, but stopped to face him, not uttering a word until he did.

"You cut your hair."

"I did."

His eyes scraped over me. "It'll grow back. I'm surprised you would succumb to a breakup haircut."

I touched the bottom of it, which was still inches above my shoulders. "I like it short."

He looked like he was biting his tongue, which pleased me. He wasn't allowed to have an opinion on anything I did anymore.

"You never said."

I shrugged. "I mentioned cutting it once. You told me my long hair was one of your favorite parts of me."

He had the decency to wince. "Now, it doesn't matter."

"No. What you think doesn't matter anymore. Have a good night."

I started past him again, but he touched my elbow, slowing me. "You're seeing someone."

A scream was lodged in my throat. We should have been looking forward to our engagement, but we were little more than strangers making uncomfortable small talk.

"Yes."

He nodded quickly. "Good. That's good. I am too."

"Good luck to you, Andy. If we see each other at another one of these things, we don't have to do this, all right? It's better if we don't."

Right then, I was happy to be wearing boots instead of heels to hasten my exit.

I found Miles alone, looking for me with a pinched brow. Worried. He'd been worried for me. When he spotted me, it was like a cloud lifted from his expression, brightening all at once. I walked straight up to him and leaned into his chest.

"Would it be all right if we left?"

"You took the words from my mouth. I was going to suggest that." Wrapping his arm around my shoulders, he plastered me to his side and guided me outside.

The beginning of the ride was somewhat quiet. Miles fiddled with the radio until he found a song he liked then drummed to the beat on his steering wheel.

"I saw him follow you into the hallway." Miles glanced over at me. "My first instinct was to drag him out, but I thought you might want to talk to him. Did he say something? Did he upset you?"

"He's seeing someone." I spread my hands on my thighs. I couldn't really pinpoint how I felt. Not great, but not like I wanted to hole up in my bed and endure another month of grief bacon.

"You are too."

I huffed. "Yeah. Guess I am. I wonder if his girlfriend's fake too."

"Doubt it." He reached across to toy with my fingertips. "No one's got as good of ideas as I do."

That made me snicker. "That is definitely true."

Before I knew it, Miles had pulled into the drive-thru of a local burger joint. He didn't ask me what I wanted. He just ordered most of the menu then pulled into a parking spot to wait for our food.

"I don't personally know the guy, but I can say with confidence he's a dick."

Tucking one foot under my leg, I turned in my seat to face him. "Why so confident?"

He snarled with disgust. "He dumped you then had the audacity to corner you at an event. He should've—"

"Why do you assume he dumped me?"

The momentum of Miles' rant came to an abrupt halt, knocking him back against his seat. "Are you saying you broke up with him? Did he cheat?"

"Yes. And no, he didn't cheat."

He flicked his fingers in the direction of my face. "Then what's this about? You broke up with him but look like a sad little kitten. If you miss him that badly, you should be with him."

A girl holding three paper bags of food and a drink tray knocked on Miles' window. He rolled it down and grabbed the food, passing it to me. I dug into the fries in the first bag before he even tipped her. Then he passed me a strawberry shake without asking and set the other drinks on the console between us.

Like we'd done this a hundred times, we worked to spread all the food out on our laps and the dashboard. His car smelled like a greasy fast-food joint—the exact antithesis to the rarified air of the gallery. It relaxed me. I slurped my shake and munched on a chicken tender while Miles started in on a cheeseburger.

"We were together for seven years, since college. When we were young, dumb, and madly in love, we talked about marriage and kids. All our future plans were with each other. He was it for me. So, at first, I didn't notice when he'd started to avoid future talk. He'd always say ‘soon' or tell me he loved me, but never ‘when.' That he was the one who got to make that decision never struck me as fair. It should have been an open discussion, but he'd closed it."

Miles was silent and still, watching me with an intensity I wasn't used to from him. No, he was listening to me, shutting everything else out around us.

"Two months ago, we were coming home from a friend's wedding, and I made a remark about what ours would be like. He hummed." I took a slurp of my milkshake to get his hum out of my head. "That hum made me snap. I asked him, point blank, if he ever intended to marry me, and he was finally honest."

"He didn't want to marry you?" he asked gently.

I shook my head. "He said he wasn't sure if he wanted to be married at all. Ever."

His exhale was jagged. "You left?"

"The next day. He didn't think we needed to break up over this, but I couldn't stay. All I could hear was that hum and remember all the times he'd given me a non-answer. He'd known for years he didn't want to marry me, just like he knew I wanted a family like the one I grew up in. I thought I'd have it with him while he knew for a fact it wasn't going to happen."

Miles took my hand in his and gave my knuckles a soft kiss. "I'm sorry, Cupcake. I knew that guy was a dick, but for your sake, I'm sorry to be so right."

"Thanks, but he's not a dick in general, we just wanted different things." I let my head loll on the rest. "You don't think I'm crazy for leaving a perfectly nice relationship for that?"

He chuffed. "I'd think you were crazy staying in something perfectly nice. Why would you settle for nice when you could have mind-blowing?"

"I don't know. It was my only relationship. Ever. Seven years is a long time to spend with someone and just walk away."

"He hummed at the thing you wanted most." Miles scoffed, incredulous. "He's a dick. You'll see that when you find someone who won't make you wait. He'll leap into action when you give even a hint of wanting to be locked down. That's the kind of guy you should be with—who recognizes what he has."

Another slurp of my milkshake, cold replacing the dread in my belly. "Since I don't plan to date anytime soon, I won't hold my breath, but I appreciate you saying that."

He kissed my knuckle once more before giving me my hand back. "Feel any better?" He positioned his head like mine, sweeping his gaze over me.

"Yeah." I smiled at him, and when he smiled back, my stomach did a strange sort of dance. "Now you know the sordid truth. Do with it what you will. I'm going to eat some chicken tenders."

He held up a little container. "You need to dip them in ranch. It's illegal not to."

I snatched the dip from him. "I would never break the law, officer."

His gaze stayed on me a minute longer, warm and wary. I found it comforting, so I allowed it, happily eating my chicken and drinking my milkshake, until he finally dug back into his food.

We ate and listened to music until our stomachs couldn't fit anything else. Miles drove me home with a bag of leftovers for Reed in my lap and a lightness in my chest.

I'd seen Andy again and hadn't fallen apart.

It had been strange, a little bit sad, but it'd also reaffirmed my decision to go. Two months hadn't been long enough to fully heal from almost a decade of loving that man, but I was moving on.

I knew for sure I was going to be fine.

And having Miles with me tonight to sort it all out hadn't hurt at all.