36. Kai

THIRTY-SIX

I love you so much I'd fight a bear for you.

Well not a grizzly bear because they have claws,

and not a panda bear because they know Kung Fu.

But a care bear,

I'd definitely fight a care bear for you.

~ Unknown

Work is different with Bodhi gone. One and a half more weeks. He and my sister will be back in less than two weeks. The house is empty except me and Shaka, who is back in bed with me at night, of course. We had a talk, me and that mutt, and we came to an understanding. He has his side of the bed and I have mine. Of course, he puts his back right up against me. Dogs. I'm telling you.

Ben's puttering around the shop singing some Taylor Swift song off her new album. It's a song about her daddy. Something about how she loves a boy. Every so often, Ben ad-libs a line as if he's rapping Taylor's dad's answers. I'd be lying if I told you it wasn't funny.

"They don't hate you, Tay ta ta Tay," Ben says, making each word hit a beat. "You should love a crazy man. Love him every way you can. That's the best. And I'm a fan …"

I'm chuckling under my breath as Ben spitfires between the words of the song.

But under all that usual sunshine, something's off.

Ben looks like someone kicked his puppy. Only, he's the puppy.

"What's wrong?" I ask.

"Huh?"

"I said, ‘What's wrong?'"

"Oh. Summer got the part in the movie she wanted."

"That's good, right?"

Ben walks over to me and leans his forearms on the counter. "Yeah. It is. It's great. I'm so proud of her. Massively proud."

"But?"

"She'll be gone for months. Filming is partly in Europe. It's just hard. Bodhi and your sister get to travel together. Their unconventional schedules sync. I don't get that with my wife. It's just … rough."

"I'm sorry."

"It's okay." Ben shrugs. "I'd rather have her part time than not at all."

"I get that." And without warning, the truth just slips right out of me like marbles down a chute. "Mila and I aren't actually dating."

"What? Did you break up? Bro. Man. Sorry to hear that."

"No. We didn't break up. We've been putting up a front. To keep her ex at bay. And Aima."

"Dude. No." Ben shakes his head, studying me to see if I'm joking. Then he makes a mind-blown gesture with both hands. "But you're so into one another. I could've sworn you were real."

"Yeah, well, I am. But she's not mine. Not even part time."

"Bro. I feel terrible, griping about my wife having to travel for work. Here you are in love with a woman you aren't with at all."

"Yeah. It's okay. It stinks that Summer's leaving for that long."

"Thanks." Ben smiles. "Not even dating. Whaddaya know?"

He seems to be thinking and then he says, "Want me to put a good word in with Mila for you? I've been known to be charming."

"Um. No. That would be a hard pass."

"Let me know if that changes. I'm a persuasive guy, boss."

I chuckle. "Keep it between us."

"You've got it."

And, of course, Ben zips his lips.

I spend the evening in the extreme silence of my home—just me and Shaka eating dinner and hanging out on the couch while some documentary I'm not even really watching plays in the background.

I've been meaning to call Mila to talk to her about me telling Ben this afternoon. I keep myself busy instead. After being at school with Noah this morning, I feel all the more certain that I want to be the man in Mila's life—in Noah's life too.

But something beneath the surface feels like it does when a storm's blowing in. It sounds crazy, but I feel as if this phone call would be the last one—like Mila's finished with me. She doesn't need our charade anymore. Maybe it's instinct or intuition.

It could be fear—I've never wanted anything or anyone like I want her. The stakes are so incredibly high. I'm clinching at the crux moment. I'll call her before it gets too late tonight. I just have to get my bearings.

It's well past dinner when there's a knock on my front door. I click off the TV. When I open the door, I must look confused. Mila's aunt, Phyllis, is standing on my porch. I can't describe her expression except to say she means business.

"Phyllis, what brings you all the way over to the Descanso side of the island at this time of night? Is everything okay?"

She steps past me into my living room where Shaka does some form of doggie hula as a greeting. I know grown hula kāne who wish they could swish their hips like my dog. Kala's dog. Whatever.

"You need to make your move," Phyllis says without any other preface or greeting.

"Okay. Are we talking about Mila here?"

"Yes. We're talking about my niece."

"Have a seat." I gesture toward the couches.

"I'm not staying."

"Okay. Well … I …"

I try to think of how to ask Phyllis if she knows Mila and I aren't actually dating. Her command pretty much gives me my answer, but I don't want to assume.

"Kai. I know you and Mila have been putting on a show. Show's over. It's time to make your move."

I want to ask her how she found out, but I'm so beyond caring, so tired of pretending, so weary of longing for the woman I love while I have her right in my arms.

"I'm trying to go slowly." I can't believe I say this next sentence, but I do. "I don't want to startle her like a starfish."

"A starfish?"

"Sea star … starfish … whichever name you call it. I don't want to startle her and send her bouncing away."

Phyllis stares at me for a count of three. Then she shakes her head as if she'll never understand the sea star analogy. I get it. I had to have an actual marine biologist spell it out for me.

"Do you love Mila?" Phyllis asks. She's never been one to beat around the bush.

There's an urgency in Phyllis' voice that tells me there's a story there. And a part of me wonders if it has to do with Brad. He was so desperate to see Mila, so eager to get her alone. If Phyllis knows we're faking, does Brad? Did he swoop in the first chance he got? Is Mila actually considering giving him a chance?

My heart rate starts to kick up at the thought of losing Mila to Brad.

"Do you love her?" Phyllis repeats.

I thought I had answered, but I guess my brain spiraled instead.

"Yes. I love her. Love doesn't even start to cover what I feel for Mila."

"Then you have to tell her."

Do I love her? What a question. For me, the line between fake and real has been completely obliterated. It's all real to me. I want to run around screaming about how much Mila means to me. To whisper it in her ear every night for the rest of our lives. I want to sing it and have it sky-written, to etch it in the sand and watch the waves wash the words into the sea only to grab a stick and write them again and again and again until the ocean is filled with my feelings for her and even then it couldn't contain them.

I love you, Mila.

I love you, Mila.

I love you, Mila.

But more than all that, I want to hear her say it too—to tell me she feels the same pull between us. To admit she can't wait eleven long and wasted years to finally be together. If only she would say she wants me the way I want her—with everything I am.

"Yes," I answer Phyllis again. "I love her."

"Then you know what you need to do." And with that, she leaves my home.