7. Kai

SEVEN

I could never pretend something I didn't feel.

~ Marilyn Monroe

"Who's this?" Mila's ex asks once the three of us are standing on the porch with the doors shut behind us.

I'm still acutely aware that Noah could come bounding out the doors any moment. I don't know the full story about Mila's ex, except he left her when she was pregnant. Do I really need to know more? Whatever else I might be lacking in details was written on her face when I walked from the kitchen into the main room of the inn.

And now, I'm standing here, with my arm around my friend, facing down the man who abandoned her and Noah, hoping she feels my solidarity.

Only, the way Mila's ex asks that question—Who's this?—sets my teeth on edge. He almost seems accusatory and possessive, as if he's been gone on a long trip and returned to find Mila in another man's arms. And something snaps in me. I can't explain it, but my mouth takes on a mind of its own.

"Her boyfriend," I say, staring him down with a look of challenge I feel all the way from the top of my head to the tips of my toes. "Kai."

I extend my hand. "And you are?"

Mila gasps for one brief moment, and I'm not sure if her shock registers with her ex or not, but the way she leans into me tells me I didn't misstep as much as I feared. She needs this—a temporary ruse—someone to stand up to this man who appeared out of nowhere on her property, throwing her for a loop the day after she got so little sleep.

She clears her throat and says, "This is Brad, Kai. My ex."

"My pleasure," I say, extending my hand further toward him until he takes it, which he does, reluctantly.

His eyes continue to dart between me and Mila and then to the spot where my arm is looped around her. I stand firm, holding my friend up, fully committed to this fabrication now that I started it. I'm not one to lie. Most people who know me would define my life as one marked by integrity.

I don't know what came over me. But we're in this now. At least it's only one small fib. As soon as Brad is finished here, we can go back to life as usual. I'll apologize to Mila, and from the way she's still leaning on me like I'd better never let her go, I know she'll get past my overstepping. I did it for her. I'd do anything for her, especially when she's facing something alone or when she's in need.

"I came …" Brad looks at Mila, obviously trying to ignore the fact that I'm here, intruding on this moment between them. "I came to let you know I'm opening a branch of my business here on the North Shore. And … well …" He looks at me and back at Mila. "Do you think we could talk alone?"

"No," I say at the same time Mila does. She finishes her sentence. "Whatever you have to say, you can say in front of Kai."

She glances up at me. I've never seen her so uncertain. Her face, which is usually glowing from time spent in the kitchen or the usual way she busies herself running the inn, looks nearly ashen. Her eyes plead with me.

I smile down at Mila, hoping she can read my unspoken thoughts: I'm not leaving you. Then I return my attention to Brad. I don't say anything to him either. I just stare into his eyes, man to man, letting him know he won't be getting time alone with Mila on my watch.

"Okay." Brad lets out a breath. "I want to … I would like …" He runs his hand through his hair, looks at me, and then focuses back on Mila. "I want to get to know Noah."

The sentence hangs in the air. Mila stiffens in my arms and I instinctively give her side a squeeze.

"You want …" Her voice trails off.

"I know. I know."

Brad's face looks contrite. I'll give him that.

"I really was hoping we could sit somewhere to discuss all of this. I have this whole speech … Not a speech. Just words. I planned to explain myself. Not that there's any excuse. Mila."

He says her name, looking at her like he could dredge up whatever they shared in the past, as if that shared history could erase his absence throughout her pregnancy and the years she's raised their son without him.

"There's no excuse." Mila's voice is colder than I've ever heard it. Detached, but solid.

"I know. I was young and foolish and determined. And angry. If I could take it back, I would. And I should have come sooner. I've wanted to. But I told myself I lost my chance. I chose to walk away. Why would you let me back?" Brad shakes his head and looks off toward the picket fence and down the street leading toward the inn.

I almost pity him for a moment, but then I feel every point of contact between me and Mila. I feel the way she's leaning on me, the way she's barely holding herself up right now.

"I don't know, Brad. This is a blindside," Mila tells him.

"I know," he admits.

"Give me … time." She pauses and looks up at me. "I need to think about everything."

"I have more to say," Brad offers. "If it will help. I'm not here to interfere in your life. Noah doesn't have to know I'm his dad at first. I'll play by your rules, Mila. I just want a chance."

The man is begging. His previous strength when he challenged my role in Mila's life has shrunk like a deflating balloon.

"I'll think about it. I don't know. I can't make any promises right now," Mila tells Brad.

He nods.

"You should go. Noah's inside. I don't want him to meet you until I have time to think this over."

"Do you have a number where we can reach you?" I ask.

Brad looks at me, his face reflecting the awareness that he's not dealing with Mila alone. I won't keep carrying on as if we're dating after today, but I will support her. She's not alone in this, and I won't let Brad have an inkling of a thought that she is. Not unless she tells me that's what she wants. Then I'll back down and leave her to this. But only if she's the one telling me to.

Brad pulls a card out of his wallet and hands it in our direction. I take it, sending an unspoken message. I hand the card to Mila and she smiles up at me.

"Okay. Well. I'll be going. I'm staying at the Alicante overnight if you need to reach me. I'll take the ferry back to Ventura in the morning."

"Okay," Mila says.

Brad turns and walks down the steps and out to the street. My arm remains securely looped around Mila until he's at least a half block away. Then I drop it and she turns to face me.

"I'm sorry," I blurt at the same time as Mila says, "Thank you."

Then she starts laughing. I look down the road. Brad is no longer in sight.

Mila laughs and laughs. I stand back, arms folded across my chest, watching her as the adrenaline mixed with the absurdity of my claim wash over her in waves.

Between gulps of air, she says, "Oh my gosh! Kai! My boyfriend!"

"I know." I shake my head. "I'm sorry. I just saw your face … and him … and I don't know what happened."

She chuckles, wiping a tear from her eye. "Well, you saved me, as usual."

The front door opens and Noah peeks his head out. "What's so funny, Mom? And why are you out here? The cookie timer is going off. They're going to burn."

"Oh! The cookies! I forgot!" Mila rushes past me into the kitchen and I stay on the porch, questioning my own sanity.

Well, what's done is done. We put up a front. Mila's obviously not mad at me. We can move forward from here. No harm, no foul.

I walk back into the inn, waiting for an opening so I can talk to Mila about what happened. We can clear up what she'll need from me—if anything—going forward with Brad.

Her boyfriend. As if.

I'm lucky to be her friend after that move.

When I push through the kitchen door, Mila's smile is the first thing I see. She's scraping cookies off the baking sheet into the trash.

"Burnt," she announces. "But we have another batch in the oven already, so all is not lost.

"Never leave the kitchen when you've got cookies in the oven," Noah scolds me. "That's what Mom always told me."

"My bad," I tell Noah. "I asked your mom to step outside for a minute. Sorry we burnt the first batch."

"It's okay," he says easily.

I wince at my second lie of the day. Lying to Brad felt justified, mostly. Lying to Noah leaves a bitter taste in my mouth. He trusts me, and I've always given him every reason to believe I'm honest and reliable. It's not like I can tell him the truth right now. But still, the lie makes me squirm—as it should.

Mila's eyes meet mine, soft and warm. I smile back, trying to keep myself from apologizing again—and again and again. What was I thinking? She's obviously okay now, thankfully. If you were to take a snapshot of this moment, you'd never know her ex had just shown up on her porch not fifteen minutes ago. And you'd never know she's left wondering whether to allow him to meet his son.

Her strength inspires me, as always. She's resilient and steadfast. I don't think I could find a better woman if I searched the world over. That's why I stood up for her. And I'd do it again, only maybe without the farce next time. I could have just as easily said, I'm her friend. But I had to put my foot in it. Maybe "friend" wouldn't have felt like a strong enough line to draw. Something in Mila's vulnerability, the way she looked like she was on the verge of collapsing, made me snap. I don't know if I could have done anything differently. My urge to protect her overrode my good sense.

"Stay for dinner," Mila says, snapping me out of my review of our interaction with Brad.

"Oh. No. That's fine. I just wanted to take a look at the pipes. Everything looks good. I'll let you get to your guests. I can eat at home with Shaka."

"Awww." Noah pouts. "I want you to stay, Unko. Pleeeeease."

Mila glances at me with an unspoken plea nearly as strong as the one on Noah's face. I don't have it in me to turn her down when she looks like that.

"Okay. Okay. I'll stay. If I'm staying, you'd better put me to work. What can I do to help?"