Chapter Thirty-Nine

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

Starlet

I missed him.

I missed Milo and worried about him so much that I could hardly focus on anything other than him. Sometimes I’d find myself reading old text messages between the two of us. It amazed me how a chain of messages could showcase the point when two people began to fall in love with one another.

My focus went back to my schooling and keeping my grades up for the remainder of the semester. Principal Gallo clarified that he wouldn’t report me due to the extremely rare situation between Milo and me, but I still wasn’t sure if I was moving in the right direction with my life.

Every choice I’d made with my career was built around my mother’s. I wanted to walk in her footsteps and see things through her eyes, I thought. Maybe a part did still want to be a teacher, but I also wanted to explore other things to make sure I was making choices for myself instead of living solely in my mother’s shoes.

“Okay, roommate, I have an idea,” Whitney said one day, walking in with a basket full of random items. There were markers and glitter and stacks of magazines along with poster boards.

I raised an eyebrow. “What’s all that for?”

“We’re going to figure out your life, one thing at a time, and make a board for it.”

I laughed. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea. I ended up tearing the last vision board I made into pieces.”

“Lucky for you, this isn’t a vision board. It’s a try board. We’ll try a million different things each weekend and see what sticks. Like rock climbing, painting, or recording a podcast. We’re going to make a list of things to do.”

I smiled at my friend, amazed by how outstanding she’d been throughout the toughest semester of my life. She was the true definition of a ride-or-die friend. No matter the mistakes I’d made, Whitney was always in my corner. “You’re the best person I’ve ever met, Whit. I don’t deserve you.”

She smirked and shrugged. “You’re right. You don’t. But most people don’t deserve me. I’m remarkable. Now, come on. Let’s make this damn list.”

***

As the weeks wore on and spring awakened through the budding tree branches, I still missed Milo every day. Nothing grew easier about that fact, either. While everything was beginning to feel normal again, life didn’t feel whole. It felt as if a piece of me was missing, and there was no way for me to get it back any time soon.

I tried to keep busy, and my try list with Whitney made that easier. I’d learned a few different things about myself along the way, too. I tried a spin class and signed up for painting lessons. I wasn’t a painter, but still, I tried. I tested different types of coffee. I fell deeply in hate with matcha. I cried sometimes, but I found many reasons to laugh, too.

Getting to know myself felt like the wildest journey I was partaking in, but it also felt right. It was as if I were supposed to meet myself at that very special moment in time.

When May came around, I was doing a little better. That was until Mother’s Day, the most challenging day of the year for me. I kept busy, trying not to overthink it. Dad sent me a message telling me he loved me, and that was nice to see. He was making me dinner that night to celebrate Mom, which would be great. I just wished I’d received a text message from Mom, too.

Whitney: You need to get back to the dorm room, stat.

Starlet: Why?

Whitney: Bring your ass here now.

Starlet: I have a class in thirty minutes.

Whitney: Now, Starlet!

I grumbled and walked across campus back to the dorm room. I usually never went back to the dorm during the day because I had classes back-to-back and walking to the dorm was out of my way. As I took the elevator up to our floor, I got another text from Whitney telling me to knock before entering the room, which was odd. Then again, Whitney was strange, so it was on par.

I knocked on our door, and she opened it just enough to shimmy her body out of the room. She shut the door behind her and smiled at me.

“Hi,” she breathed out.

“Uh, what’s going on?”

“I owe you an apology.”

“What?”

Her eyes glassed over as she shook her head. “I was wrong about him. I was so worried about you getting hurt that I missed the most important part. I know I normally hate men but—and believe me, I can’t believe I’m about to say this, but maybe it’s not all men. Maybe some are decent. Maybe some are good, even.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Whit. What the hell are you talking about?”

She took a deep inhalation and breathed it out. “You have a present.”

“What?”

“A present. You have a present. In the room.”

“You got me a present?”

She shook her head. “Nope. Not me. But dammit, it made me tear up. Are you ready?”

“You’re freaking me out. Move.”

She smiled and stepped to the side of the hallway. I placed my hand on the handle and twisted it, opening the door. My eyes instantly teared up as I saw the item in front of me—a pink bicycle with yellow daisies painted on, purple handlebars, and a white wicker basket. A matching helmet was there, too, and inside the basket was a bouquet of peonies and a card.

Milo.

I hurried over and opened the card to read the words.

My world,

I know today’s a hard day for you, so I thought I’d give you something to make it a little less difficult. I built it with a new buddy of mine. It’s not as perfect as your mom’s, but I hope you like it.

I hope you take a ride today and feel your mom in the wind.

Happy Mother’s Day to your mother.

She raised the best one of the best ones.

Con amore,

Milo

“So…” Whitney walked into the room and caught me as tears rolled down my cheeks. She patted me on the shoulder and sighed. “Is he your person?”

I nodded. “He’s my person.”

But I wasn’t sure what it meant. I wasn’t sure how to feel about everything. It had been weeks since I’d seen him, weeks without a single word, yet this reminded me exactly why I loved that man so very much.

He wasn’t only my person, but he was my heart. He was my spirit. He was my light.

“Well?” Whitney asked. “What are you going to do?”

I shook my head, confused. “I…I…I don’t know.”

“You have to go to him!” she ordered.

My stomach was knotted up thinking about that idea. I couldn’t just go to him. I couldn’t…could I?

Oh gosh.

I was going to be sick.

“I need air,” I told her, shaking my head in disbelief as I stared at the bicycle in front of me. “I need air,” I repeated.

I took the bike, put on my helmet, and I went for a ride to talk to the wind.

After taking the ride and still being filled with confusion, I took the bike back to the dorm. Then I hopped into my car and drove the two hours to my dad’s place for dinner that night. Within seconds of walking into his house, I poured out everything about what Milo had done for me with the bicycle. Dad listened to every detail as he cut up carrots for the stew he was making.

“Wow. Sounds like a winner to me,” he said.

“A winner? Dad! He sent me a custom-made bike after not talking to me for weeks.”

“You have to admit, it’s kind of really damn thoughtful,” he urged.

Yes. It was. But still. I was confused. “I don’t know what it means.”

“I think it means he loves you.”

“Please tell me what I’m supposed to do. Tell me how I’m supposed to respond to this.”

“I don’t know, babe. It’s your life.”

I grumbled. “I know. But if it were yours... What would you do?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know, but personally, I like him.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Milo. I like him.”

I snickered. “You don’t know him.”

“I mean, I did help him build the bike, so we have had a nice connection over the past few weeks.”

“What are you talking about?”

“We’ve been hanging out a few times for the past few weeks, so I’d like to think I know him pretty well.”

My eyes narrowed. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Remember when I gave you Scouts honor that I wouldn’t stalk your ex-boyfriend?”

“Yes.”

“Well, I was never a Scout, baby girl. So, I stalked your ex-boyfriend. I’ve been visiting him once a week since then.”

My eyes bugged out of my head. “No way!”

“Sorry, kiddo. I couldn’t stand the idea of that guy being alone after everything he went through. Especially when he put your life’s comfort ahead of his during his hardest times.”

“You drove over two hours back and forth each week to come to check on him?”

“Yeah.”

Tears flooded my eyes as I took in my father’s words. “You were there for him? He wasn’t alone?”

Dad placed the knife down, picked up a dishrag, and cleaned his hands. He turned to me and smiled. “No, baby girl. He wasn’t alone.”

Without thought, I rushed into my father’s arms and pulled him into a tight embrace. Emotions spilled out of my eyes and rolled down my cheeks. “Thank you, Dad.”

He kissed my forehead and held me back. “Always.”

When I let him go, I wiped my tears away. “Is he okay? How is he?”

“He’s a strong young man. He’s still moving forward. He’s about to go into his finals at school, but from what I can tell, he’s passing all his classes. I haven’t been much help in his math class, but my Spanish isn’t half bad.”

My eyes widened. “You’ve been tutoring him?”

“ Sí, mi hija ,” he replied, making me smile. “Your mother might’ve been the teacher, but I wasn’t half bad at studying.”

“You’re the best person I’ve ever known,” I told him.

He pulled me into a side hug. “To be fair, you’re pretty antisocial, so that’s not saying too much,” he joked.

I laughed. “Should I reach out to him? Or should I wait a while?”

“Well, I actually have an idea. But you might hate it because you’ll have to wait a little bit longer.”