25. Mila

TWENTY-FIVE

I promise to kiss you like it's the first time

and the last time, every time.

~ J. K. Louis

This past week, I barely saw Kai. Brad contacted me when the sale on his property finalized. I called Kai immediately after Brad and I hung up.

Not Chloe.

Not Phyllis.

Kai.

He's becoming so integral to my life these days. He's always been a friend, a steady presence in my life—and in Noah's, now that I think of it. But since we've been dating—fake dating—it's different.

I place the sourdough loaf in the oven and step back. Baking fresh bread feels grounding to me. It's a long process of cultivating the starter, feeding it, then turning that into dough, kneading it and letting it rise before baking. It feels like what I need right now, something slow and organic in the middle of all the dramatic changes that seem to be propelling my life at warp speed. Brad's relocating to the island temporarily. Kai and I are knee-deep—more like up to our necks—in the charade we've perpetuated. It's overwhelming at times. Most of the time … every minute I'm not asleep, really.

Another daily text comes in from Kai. I pick my phone up off the counter to read it.

Kai: Just checking how you're doing. Brad arrives today, right?

Mila: Yep. Today's his big day. I've been baking.

Kai: Stress baking? Because I can get behind you stress baking all day long.

Mila: Maybe stress baking. It's definitely relaxing me.

Kai: What's in the oven?

Mila: Is that like when a guy texts, What are you wearing? And, Sourdough.

Kai: I just laughed so hard. Ben asked me what was so funny. Needless to say, I did not share your text with him. You wearing sourdough sounds intriguing.

Mila: Ha! Not wearing it. It's in the oven.

Kai: Will there be enough left to share? Asking for a friend.

Mila: I'll save a few slices just for you.

Kai: You're too good to me, fake girlfriend.

Mila: You're too good to me, fake boyfriend. Thanks for checking in.

Kai: Always. Have a good rest of your day.

I smile, even though a part of me wishes we could both delete the word fake.

Kai has called or texted daily to check in with me ever since the night in the pantry. The day after we hunkered down with ice cream and cookies, he called to let me know he had told Bodhi and Kalaine about us. I'm glad they know. The fewer people we have to fake in front of, the better. And I trust them to protect our secret.

Over the next hour, the bread fills the whole house with that warm, grainy smell that settles my nerves. I pull it out of the oven and lock the kitchen so I can make a run to the hardware and garden shop. Years ago, a friend of my aunts' bought three connected properties and left only one of the buildings standing. They turned the cleared lots into a local nursery, which I've been accused of keeping in business on more than one occasion. I have a penchant for flowers. I adore planting them, watching them grow, and seeing guests appreciate their beauty when they come to stay at the inn.

It's a beautiful spring day, and I need to take every opportunity to clear my head, so I decide to drive the golf cart over to pick out some new plants. Noah can help me fill the front beds later this afternoon. He's still at that age where gardening with his mom is one of his favorite things in life.

The shop is humming with customers, a sign the seasons are turning. I'm walking at an intentionally leisurely pace through hostas and foxgloves, calla lilies and salvia. My mind relaxes and my defenses drop. Too far, apparently, because when I turn toward the double-deep row of fruit trees, Brad is standing there, staring at me. He's not shopping. He's just there, watching me without making his presence known until I startle at the sight of him

"Mila," he smiles warmly. "Planting flowers, as always."

It irks me inexplicably that he knows I love to plant. He knows so many things—secrets and dreams, passions and personality quirks. All of them were gifts I freely gave him once, believing he'd keep them safe to cultivate and guard alongside me.

I nod. "Brad."

"Aww. Please don't be cold, Mila. I know I deserve it. Believe me, I know. I'd hate to think I turned you into some hardened version of yourself. You're the kindest person I know. Don't let my immaturity and recklessness from years ago be what turns you into a skeptic."

His face is soft, pleading even, as if he wouldn't be able to bear the fact that he hurt me that deeply. I see it all, because not only did I share all of me with him, but he returned the favor at one time. Once, in another lifetime, I was his confidante, his lover, his best friend. I read him like I've always read him.

I nod again because words feel like an invitation—one I'm not willing to give.

"I ran into Shaw the other day," he says.

Brad shares this as if we're having a casual conversation, as if he is actually just some guy I knew in high school, and, what do you know! We ended up at Nichols' Nursery and Hardware on the same afternoon. What a pleasant surprise!

"How is Shaw? I rarely see him, since he works at the resort and I stay busy on this side of the island."

"He's good. He mentioned you."

"Did he?"

I guess that's normal. Shaw was in our wedding. A groomsman. He would mention me to Brad, I guess. Though, the thought of people bumping into Brad and mentioning me makes this island feel suddenly suffocating.

"He said he sees Kai every week for the managers' meeting. And he never knew you were dating. He didn't know until that morning we had breakfast. Is this thing between you and Kai that new? Or, is Kai not that into you? I know it's not my place, but you deserve someone who will show you your worth and treat you right, not someone casual who can't appreciate you enough to share the fact that he's seeing you with his coworkers."

Is he serious right now? My thoughts swirl from fears that Kai and I will be outed by some locals, to wondering why Brad thinks he gets to poke around in my relationships, to the fact that I'm not dating Kai at all, and yet he feels like an actual boyfriend in too many ways.

"You're right," I finally muster. "It's not your place. Kai and I are together and that's all you need to know. He's the best thing that ever happened to me. He's reliable and thoughtful. He's kind and funny …"

Brad's face falls slightly and I instantly feel terrible for throwing Kai in his face, even though everything I said about Kai is accurate, and I haven't even begun to brush the surface as to how special he is.

I've never been a catty person. And regardless of whether Brad overstepped when he told me not to turn sour, I agree with him. I don't want to be resentful and petty.

Brad's eyes snap up to something behind me. I turn to see Kai rounding the corner.

"Mila? I thought I heard you," Kai says.

I'm so thrown by bumping into Brad, and now Kai, that I blurt out. "Oh … hi … babe."

Kai is at my side before I can say another word, his arm around my waist, a kiss to my temple.

Is he allowing his lips to linger a little longer this time? I think he is.

I don't have any earthly explanation for what I do next. None.

My hand raises of its own volition and cups Kai's jaw. I turn my head and tilt my chin in an obvious invitation. Time stills. My heart probably stops beating. I'm not sure I'm even breathing. All I know is the feel of Kai's warm skin on my palm and the look of something like desire in his eyes. And that look propels me forward. I might lick my lips. I might give his chin a light nudge with the hand cupping his face. I might cry out, "KISS ME, KAI!"

Okay. I'm pretty sure I don't do that last thing, but I can't vouch for whether I do or don't because Kai's lips meet mine in this moment that feels like, "Finally," and "Yes," and "You … You … You."

I run my hand to the back of his neck on instinct. My brain says something like, "Wow, I remember how to kiss!" But then I forget everything I ever knew about kissing or gravity or basic words because I'm kissing Kai! And he's kissing me. Softly, carefully, tenderly, but with a low burning fire under the surface that promises more—so much more. His lips are commanding and possessive. I wonder how I'm bearing my own weight right now, maybe it's because I've become weightless, floating, feathery light.

All too soon, Kai pulls away and looks at me with a dazed expression. My hand is still on his jaw—the only evidence that I didn't just enter a fugue state and imagine kissing my friend, this man who dominates my thoughts, who comes to my rescue, who means more than words could ever capture.

Kai's lips turn up in a smirky grin. His eyes flit between mine and I feel the soft smile inch onto my face as I watch the corners of his eyes crinkle. Slowly, as if waking from the sweetest dream and stretching lazily from a restful nap, the world starts to come into focus.

Kai turns us toward Brad.

Brad.

Brad was here, watching me kiss Kai, witnessing Kai kiss me back.

Kai aligns me next to him so we're a solid wall of unified post-kiss coupledom.

Then he bends his head so he's whispering into the top of my head. "Babe?"

I just grin up at him, obviously still in a stupor from that kiss.

I'm not one prone to P.D.A. I never was. Brad used to tease me, Lighten up, Mila. No one cares.

Brad.

He's standing there with a dejected look on his face, and for a split-second, I feel sorry for him. That's until I remember all the reasons I'm here, kissing Kai next to the hydrangeas and bags of peat moss.

Brad did this. He threw away our future. He rejected me and our son. I'm not sure I want to kiss Kai in front of him ever again, but I can't say I regret the kiss we just shared. I'd be lying if I said I did. And I've done enough lying to last me ten lifetimes lately.

"I'll just …" Brad stammers. "I've got a lumber order I need to check on."

"Good to see you, Brad," Kai says, as if they're old college roommates.

"Yeah. Uh. You too, Kai." Brad looks at me. "Mila."

"Take care, Brad." I mean it. I hope he does take care. I don't want him to burn in a fiery afterlife or have his toes nibbled off by sharks one digit at a time. I just want peace. And I want my life back—not the one he stole from me years ago, but the one I built from those ashes before he came barging back in asking to see Noah.

As soon as Brad is inside the house turned hardware and garden store, Kai drops his hand from around my waist.

"Sorry," he says, calmly.

"You're sorry?" I scoff. "I'm the one who attacked you!"

Mortification overtakes every part of my brain and face that were previously overrun with giddy ecstasy as a result of our kiss. I finally kissed Kai. And it was as good or better than I had imagined. And, yes, I had imagined it. A lot.

"You did attack me, didn't you?" Kai smirks again.

"What? No!"

He chuckles. "It's okay, Mila. We're adults. We're faking a relationship. You kissed me. We'll live."

I cover my face with my hands. Kai gently pries my arms down so I'll peek up at him. Then he pulls me into a hug. Him holding me does the opposite of what it should do. Usually his hugs calm me. Right now every nerve ending is shouting, "Do it again! Kiss him! Kiss him!"

I pull back so I don't accidentally grip his face and actually kiss him for a second embarrassing time in a row.

"Sorry, I panicked …" I try to make sense of my actions to Kai, but honestly, I can't even make sense of them to myself yet.

"You … panicked?" Amusement fills Kai's features.

I nod.

"And when you panic, you kiss people in public?"

He's having far too much fun with this. Also, why is he so calm? Shouldn't we both be freaking out? My kiss didn't affect him like his did me. That's the only explanation for him being this serene and subdued after we kissed like that. I felt more sparks than the barge on the bay during our Fourth of July celebration, and Kai, apparently, felt nothing.