13

Beth

My eyes snap open.

Something is wrong.

But what?

I blink a few times.

I know what day it is—the day after what was supposed to be Evie's wedding until nature decided to be a pain in the you-know-what.

I know where I am—a motel room we were forced to spend the night in because nature decided to be a pain in the you-know-what.

And I know whose big arms I'm wrapped up in.

Milo.

I inhale sharply.

I'm wrapped up in Milo's strong, heavy, protective arms.

That's what's wrong.

Actually, wait.

No.

That's not it.

I exhale just as sharply.

I'm wrapped up in Milo's strong, heavy, protective arms…and I don't hate it.

That's what's wrong.

Why don't I hate it?

Yes the man gave me the best kiss of my life last night—a considerable feat given the intentionally unromantic setting—and yes, he's breaking my no-touching-in-bed rule, but I…I don't care. There's something so nice about starting a new day wrapped in someone's arms that sure as heck beats waking up alone.

Milo stirs behind me.

A few seconds pass, and then he sucks in a deep, whooshing breath. Is he having a moment of post-kiss clarity? Remorse? Regret?

He breaks away from me. "Oh, man. Beth, I'm so sorry. I don't know how we ended up—how my arms were around—why I held—Okay. I'm clearly having trouble finishing a sentence, but in my defense, the threat of imminent death will do that to a man."

I bite back my grin and roll over to face him.

My breath catches in my throat at the sight of him, and I let out a sputter.

What is it with us this morning?

He can't complete a sentence, and I'm having trouble remembering the basic in-and-out pattern required to breathe and, you know, stay alive.

Milo's long, shoulder-length hair is tousled from sleep, falling gently around his face, which is lit up by the soft glow of morning light filtering through the curtains, and his light-gray T-shirt clings to his muscular frame. If waking up in his strong arms is an excellent way to start the day, being greeted by this spectacular view runs a close second.

"It's okay," I say, partly to reassure him I'm not mad, and partly so I have an excuse to run my hand up and down his massive bicep.

"So I'll still be able to have kids?"

I stop rubbing his arm. "It's too early for your so-called comedy."

"Six seconds in and you're already insulting me. That's a new record."

"Yeah, well. I think you like it."

"Another thing that's already been established." He reaches over and tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. "So. Do we do the awkward post-kiss thing where we pretend like it never happened, or is it okay if I'm upfront with you and say that was the single most spectacular kiss of my life?"

My heart starts beating way too fast, but I make an effort to not let it show. "Option B sounds good."

He smiles, and a beam of light catches on his green eyes, making them glitter. "Well, it was. Just wanted to put that out there before you go back to mid-level hating me."

"You've been downgraded to low-level hate," I say. Then, not liking the way the word hate makes me feel, amend, "And hate is too strong a word. You've been downgraded to low-level annoyance."

He beams like I've just declared my undying love for him. "Even though I'm bummed for our friends that this trip didn't turn out as planned, at least I got that."

That reminds me. "The wedding." I sit upright and look out the window. "It's sunny."

"It is."

I race over to my phone I left charging in the kitchenette. "I'm going to message Evie," I say loudly over my shoulder. "Maybe the wedding is back on somehow? You know, post-Christmas miracle, and all that."

"Fingers crossed." He gets up as well. "Mind if I use the bathroom?"

"Not at all." I'm tempted to throw in some quip about wanting him to leave it clean, but after the pristine condition he left it in yesterday, I don't see any reason to.

I pick up my phone and tap into the Vinaigrettes WhatsApp group chat.

Beth: Hey, it's sunny here in Whispering Pines. Any chance the wedding can get un-canceled and you can have the ceremony today?

Evie: I wish. There's been a landslide, and the road in and out of Cedar Crest Hollow is cut off. Plus, the lodge has sustained damage.

Summer: Oh, Evie. I'm so sorry this has happened.

Beth: Me, too.

Hannah: Me, three.

Amiel: Me, four. How are you holding up?

Evie: We're trying to focus on the good. No one got hurt, and we will still get married. It just won't be this time.

Beth: And how are you really feeling?

Evie: Disappointed. Frustrated. Sad. Angry. And guilty that I can't focus on the good things like I should be.

Summer: Don't feel guilty. You're allowed to feel the way you feel.

Evie: I guess. I know it doesn't change anything between Fraser and me. He loves me, and I love him. I just want to be his wife so we can…you know, be together as husband and wife. It's been HARD waiting.

Beth: I bet it has

Hannah: lol

Summer: lol

Amiel: Why am I always the last one?…lol

Beth: Sorry, sorry, sorry. Now is not the time for my world-famous humor.

Amiel: And how was YOUR night, Beth?

Beth: Fine.

Amiel:

Summer:

Hannah:

Evie: (For revenge)

Beth: You guys! Stop it!

Hannah: Give us the goss, and we will.

Beth: There is no goss.

Amiel: Did you and Milo kiss?

Wow. They are not messing around this morning.

Beth: We did.

Hannah: That means there's goss.

Beth: There's no more goss apart from that. We kissed once, and it was nice.

Amiel: Nice???

Beth: Okay. It was slightly better than nice.

Summer: Slightly???

I sigh and do the smart thing—cave.

They're relentless when they get like this, and I'd know since I'm usually the one leading the probe for romantic details.

I'm not used to being on the receiving end of it, though.

Beth: Okay, fine. It was the best, most mind blowing kiss I've ever had in my life. Even though the lights were on, the tap was running, and an obnoxious infomercial was blaring in the background.

Amiel: Why were any of those things happening?

Beth: It was my attempt to un-romantic-ify the situation.

Amiel: That's not a real word.

I want to disagree with her, but she's right. It isn't.

Summer: I think I get what you mean, though. That's so you.

Evie: It really is.

Beth: Is that a bad thing?

Hannah: Absolutely not. We should never be anything but ourselves.

Evie: Milo's a smart dude. He knows what he's doing.

Beth: You think so?

Evie: I know so. Okay, this is strictly confidential and doesn't leave the group…but Fraser told me Milo's been asking about you. A lot. Like, allllllll the time.

Amiel: I'm squealing over here.

Summer: As someone in the room next to Amiel, I can verify that squealing is happening.

Evie: Apparently it started over the summer, after the karaoke night.

Hannah: That was such a good night!

I smile because that was a big night for Hannah and Culver.

And not a big night for me and Milo.

I basically ignored him all night, barely said two words to him—and I'm pretty sure whatever I did say to him came with a side order of sass—and even after all that, he liked me enough to ask about me.

Multiple times.

An uneasy combination of guilt and pining swirls inside me. Guilt for not treating Milo as well as I should have and pining for—well, let's not go there.

A new message pops up.

Hannah: Are you happy, Beth?

Beth: Remind me again what happy feels like?

Summer: Generally characterized by not hating everything and everyone.

Amiel: Accompanied by a light feeling in your chest and a bounce in your step.

Evie: Other physical signs—symptoms?—include: smiling, laughing, relaxed posture, and calm breathing.

Beth: I…don't know.

Evie: Don't know or not ready to deal?

Beth: The last part.

Evie: Fair enough. There's no pressure.

Hannah: There really isn't. Look at me and Culver.

Evie: Or me and Fraser…Or Summer and Bear?

Summer: Not this again. Let's keep moving.

Amiel: I'll keep it moving. Beth, what was it like when he came to your room this morning? Or, wait, did you go to his? Was it awkward?

Oh, yeah. I maaay have possibly kinda accidentally overlooked telling my friends Milo and I were forced to share a room.

Oops.

Beth: So about that. Funny story, actually. When we got to the motel, they only had one room left so we were forced to share.

Amiel would like to switch to video chat

I hit decline because even though Milo is in the bathroom, that is still way too close. The last thing I need is him walking in on an avalanche of excited screaming from my girlfriends.

Beth: Sorry, Amiel. I can't talk. He's showering.

Amiel: Fair enough. I only have one question to ask anyway, and the answer to this question will tell me everything I need to know.

I groan.

As a fellow romance reading junkie, I have a hunch I know what she's going to ask.

Beth: Go ahead.

Amiel: I'll make it real simple.

Amiel: You like multiple choice, right?

I groan loader.

Beth: Sure.

Amiel: Okay…

Amiel: In that case…

Amiel: How many beds are in the room you shared with Milo. Option A: 1. Option B: 2.

Beth: Option A.

Before I'm on the receiving end of a lightning-round inquisition, I quickly tap out a lie.

Beth: Guys, Milo is coming out of the bathroom. I have to go.

Amiel: Ooh, go, go! Can't wait to get the FULL details.

Summer: Same. And also, Evie, if we can do anything for you, let us know.

Beth: Yes. Anything at all.

Evie: Thanks, guys. There's nothing anyone can do. Just stay safe and keep in touch. Okay?

Hannah: Will do!

Summer: I will.

Beth: Same.

Amiel: Always the last one…Me, too.

I get off the phone and turn on the TV to a local news station, needing a distraction from all the Milo-related thoughts whirling in my brain.

How do I feel?

Happy?

I…guess. It's fifty-fifty.

The first fifty is yeah, I am happy. I like Milo. He's a great guy. I feel safe with him. I had a great time yesterday talking and hanging out together.

The other fifty is taken up by a not-so-happy feeling—the lingering remnants from relationships past.

Letting my guard down with Milo seems to have triggered some muscle memory. I've let two other guys in before, and they both ended up treating me badly and really hurting me.

Logically, I know Milo isn't them and that this situation is different. But try telling that to my only recently mended heart.

The weather report comes on, and I force myself to pay attention. It looks like parts of the mountain are still cut off, but where we are isn't, which means we'll be able to return to Comfort Bay today.

A few moments later, Milo steps out of the bathroom, and it's like I'm seeing him for the first time.

His hair is loose and a bit damp, falling down to his muscular shoulders. He's dressed in a flannel top, unbuttoned, over a white T-shirt emblazoned with the LA Swifts logo, and a pair of straight fit dark-blue jeans that show off his muscular thighs nicely.

It's a normal outfit, something I've seen him wear a few times. Nothing out of this world, and yet for some reason, it feels out of this world.

Milo looks different somehow. I…I can't explain it.

Guess that's why I'm not the author in my family.

I turn the television off. "I have good news and bad news. Which do you want to hear first?"

He walks over and sits down on the couch next to me. Not too close, but not too far, either.

"The bad."

"Okay. The bad news is the wedding is still off."

He runs a hand through his damp hair. "Oh, man, that's rough. I feel awful for Fraser. How's Evie?"

"Devastated but putting on a brave face."

"Understandable." His eyes drop to my lips. "And what's the good news?"

Suddenly, the thought of going back home doesn't feel like such good news. Which is silly. It's not like we can stay holed up here in this motel room forever.

Can we?

And we definitely can't kiss again since I'm the one who instigated the one-kiss rule. I can't break it less than twenty-four hours later.

Can I?

No, Beth, you cannot. Now stop wasting time and answer Milo's question before you cross over and join him as co-mayor of Weirdsville.

"The good news is we're fine to travel back to Comfort Bay. The roads on this side of the mountain have reopened."

"That's great." His eyes stay on my lips for a few more seconds before he lifts his gaze and offers a slight nod. "What would you like to do?"

Is it just me or is there a raspy edge to his voice?

Stay here and keep kissing you, is what I want to say. "Go home, I guess," is what I actually say.

"All right. Let's go home then."

"Before we do." I hesitate, unsure whether I want to bring this up, because if I do, there'll be an unspoken implication for him to join me.

And I don't know how I feel about that.

I'd like to do it with him, but then again, I've never done it with a guy before.

I shake my head. "Forget it."

He shuffles closer and hooks his fingers under my chin, gently tilting my head up until my eyes meet his. "You can tell me anything, Beth. Please."

There's something about the warmth in his voice, the sincerity shining in his eyes, that gives me the courage to break through a piece of that old resistance and say to him, "I'd like to go for a walk."

"Oh. Okay." Come on, girl. Don't stop now. He's clearly waiting for you to invite him. "Want to come with me?"

"I'd love to." A radiant smile spreads across his face. "I thought you'd never ask."

I smile back.

I almost didn't.

Thirty minutes later, we're hiking along a trail behind the motel.

Milo's been quiet.

We both have been.

I'm doing it. I'm actually going on an early morning walk with a guy I like. I know it's not the biggest achievement in the world, but it feels like a breakthrough for me. Apart from my girlfriends, and my mom when I was younger, morning walks have always been a solo activity.

Neither of the guys I dated expressed any interest in joining me. Not that Milo and I are dating, but it's nice he was so enthusiastic about coming along.

My head is still spinning.

I'm walking with Milo, and he told me our kiss last night was the most spectacular kiss of his life.

Guess I can add emotional intelligence to the list of traits I assumed he didn't possess, because what type of man says something like that?

The sincerity in his voice and the conviction in his eyes as he said it, made me believe him. And when you've been lied to by guys in the past, you develop a sixth sense for these things. He wasn't feeding me some throwaway line, he meant what he said.

I pick up the pace a little. "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure," he replies, matching me stride for stride.

"What was Josie and Jonah's mom like?"

"Ah."

"If it makes you uncomfortable, we don't have to talk about it."

"No. It's fine. The thing is, I wish I knew more about her, because the truth is, I don't. Her name was Isla, and I met her on a post-victory night out six years ago. She was really pretty and seemed different from the normal ditzy girls who hung around hockey players. She was in college. Read sci-fi. Loved manga. Spoke three languages."

"She sounds cool."

"She was. In a nerdy way, which made her even cooler to me because I'm weird like that."

I smile as I take in his self-deprecating joke. I've never met a guy who's so comfortable making fun of himself.

He continues. "We had an immediate attraction, which only increased when she told me she wasn't interested in hockey players."

"Wait. You liked that?" He nods. "You really are a weirdo."

He grins. "I really am."

The trail breaks off in two separate directions. The left loop is two miles, the right is five. I flick my fingers between them. "Are you up for a longer walk?"

"Sure. You?"

"Let's do it. So what happened with you and Isla?" I ask as we set off on the right trail.

"Well, after we slept together, I found out that she'd also been with one of my teammates and at least two other players I knew. I'm not judging her for that, but I was hurt by her dishonesty. She was into hockey players. Big time. She also told me she was interested in more than just a one-night stand, only for me to discover that that was another lie."

"You never heard from her again?"

"Nope. After our night together she ghosted me completely. Didn't answer my texts or phone calls. I spoke to my teammate, and we put two and two together pretty quickly. She was yet another puck bunny."

"I'm sorry that happened to you."

"Thanks. I'll be honest, it did affect me for a while. I'm not a quick-to-trust person at the best of times, so after that experience, I closed up even more."

"That makes sense."

"For a long time, I regretted sleeping with her. But then…"

A smile stretches across his lips, and I know who he's thinking about. "How did you learn you were a father?"

"My manager got an email from Isla's mother saying that Isla had been killed in a car crash and that she had two children—a five-year-old girl named Josie, and a two-year-old boy named Jonah—and that there was a chance I was the father of Josie."

"Holy moly. What did you do?"

"We looked into it. Part of me suspected it might have been someone's idea of a sick joke, but I didn't want to dismiss it outright, either. We hired an investigator, and the story checked out. I took a DNA test, and yeah, it turns out I'm Josie's father."

"What about Jonah?"

"That was the snag that made the whole custody slash adoption process take so long. I'm obviously not his father since I never saw Isla after our night together. Despite a comprehensive search, his biological father hasn't been tracked down. I obviously wanted custody of Josie, but at the same time, I didn't want her to lose her brother. They'd already experienced too much loss, so I…I adopted Jonah, and he is my son."

He declares it proudly and with such conviction, leaving no room for doubt that he is Jonah's father.

I have to blink faster to keep the tears welling in my eyes at bay. I'm speechless. What a beautiful, selfless, kind thing to do.

"What about you?" Milo asks, ducking out in front to remove a fallen branch from the path. "You want kids?"

As I pass him closely, I catch the subtle scent of the motel body wash from him. "Uh, sure. I guess."

"You hesitated."

"No, I do. I want kids. But in some abstract, future tense way, you know? I don't even have a boyfriend so it's a little too soon to be thinking about kids."

He opens his mouth, closes it, then opens it again. "And how come you don't have a boyfriend?"

I sigh and slow down a little to take a swig from my water bottle. "Remember how I said I used to be heavy?"

His jaw tightens. "I do."

"There's your answer. Guys aren't into big girls, or if they are…" I lock my focus on the forest straight ahead, my chest filling with a sense of shame I haven't been able to shake even though, rationally, I know what happened wasn't my fault. Both times.

We spot a bench up ahead, and without saying anything, we approach it and sit down.

"Did someone hurt you?" Milo guesses.

I smile sadly. "Try someones. Plural."

"I'm sorry." His arm twitches, and for a moment I think he's going to touch me, but he doesn't. Instead, he rests his hands in his lap, clasping them firmly. "You don't have to tell me anything. I'm curious, and I'd like to know what happened. You can tell me to stick my nose anywhere you like."

His words are like a release valve to the pressure that had been building in my chest, and despite his offer, I'm ready to tell him.

"I've had two boyfriends," I begin, staring straight ahead. "Liam after I graduated high school and Dylan about a year after Liam and I broke up. Two very different guys, but one very common theme in why I ended things."

I take a breath and carry on. "With Liam, I overheard a conversation between him and his best friend. They were talking about me."

"What were they saying?" Milo asks in a gentle tone.

"It wasn't very nice." I drop my head. "Basically, his friend was making fun of my size, and Liam was laughing along. He said something along the lines of, the only reason he's dating me is because he can treat me any way he likes and he knows I'll take it because I'm so…" I close my eyes to prevent the tears from escaping. "Desperate."

"Oh, Beth."

I shake my head, trying to loosen the stranglehold of emotions clawing at me. "I ended things right after that, but it still hurts. And I hate that. I hate that after all this time, it can still affect me."

"I don't know what to say."

I glance at Milo.

He's tense, gripping his hands so tightly his knuckles have turned white, jaw ticking, and brow furrowed.

But his voice?

His voice this whole time has been soft and gentle and filled with nothing but concern.

"It gets worse," I say with a heavy heart. "If I thought Liam was a grade-A jerk, Dylan was the supreme overlord of the jerkdom. We were only dating for a little while when I found out that he and his friends had a competition…" I halt, the repugnant words lodged in my mind, too awful to voice.

"A competition?"

"Yeah." I whisper the next part. "A competition to see who could sleep with the most plus-size girls."

Milo bolts to his feet and furiously punches the air. His whole body is heaving with rage. He leans over, resting his hands on his knees, his massive back and shoulders swaying with every breath he takes.

Then he straightens and returns to me. "May I?" he says, dropping his gaze to my hands.

"Yeah."

He crouches down and takes my hands, brings them to his mouth, and peppers my knuckles with delicate kisses. Then he looks me straight in the eye. "There's nothing I can say. That's absolutely disgusting behavior that makes me sick to my stomach."

"It's okay," I tell him, not used to seeing a guy get so enraged on my behalf like that. My girlfriends, yes, but a guy?

It's oddly comforting.

"It's not okay," he mutters to himself then swings his eyes to meet mine. "I'm sorry about my reaction. Off the ice, I'm not a violent person at all, but that was just…" He blows out a breath. "That was a lot."

"You're fine," I assure him. "Really. It was…kinda nice actually."

He releases my fingers and lifts his hand up, hovering near the side of my face. "May I?"

I'm not quite sure what he's asking permission for this time, but I nod anyway.

He smiles tenderly as he grazes my cheek with his fingers. My heart melts at the tenderness of the gesture.

He stops suddenly and pulls back, staring at my hands. "Oh no. I just broke the one-kiss rule."

"Technically, you did." But him kissing my knuckles before was such a sweet thing to do, I'm willing to let it slide. "But if we're getting all technical about things, I meant kisses on the lips."

"Right." His voice has turned husky. "Okay…"

I can tell he's itching to say something more. "Yes?" I prompt.

"Well, you weren't exactly clear about something else either."

"And what might that be?"

Our eyes meet. "Whether your one kiss rule meant one kiss ever, or one kiss per day."

"Hmm. I guess I didn't spell that out."

"No. You didn't. That was incredibly confusing of you."

"Shut up."

"You know, I could probably sue you for emotional ambiguity."

I giggle. "Shut up."

He grins. "Make me."

Oh, I'll make him all right.

I scooch over to get closer to him, grab the sides of his face, and launch into a frenzied kiss.

Some guys might get funny when the girl takes the lead, but I'm confident Milo doesn't mind the way my hands are messing up his hair, the way my tongue is probing his mouth like a search team on a mission, or the way my hands slide across his chest, tracing the hard muscles under his T-shirt.

My only note about last night's kiss was that it was too short, so I make sure not to repeat the same mistake today.

"One kiss a day," I clarify, murmuring hungrily into his mouth.

He responds by tightening his grip around my waist, signaling his approval of our arrangement, and I can't help but moan at the heated touch.

It's only the sound of approaching footsteps that eventually makes me let go of him.

"So," I say, straightening my shirt and fixing my hair.

"Right," Milo says, doing the same.

By the time the middle-aged couple walk by us, exchanging friendly hellos, we manage to erase all signs of this kiss.

Which doesn't feel good because I didn't want to erase all signs of the kiss.

But maybe it's for the best?

Even though I'd rather not, I have to face reality. This weekend took one giant unexpected turn, but that doesn't change the fact Milo and I lead two very different, very incompatible lives. There's no point in even daydreaming about this leading to anything more.

Maybe he can join me for an occasional early morning walk when he's in town, and we can enjoy a kiss now and then.

"What are your plans for when we get back?" I ask, as we resume the walk.

"I'll spend today getting ready to leave. We're back out on the road tomorrow." He hesitates. "You know…"

"Yeah?"

"I'm playing in LA in a few weeks if you feel like joining Evie and coming down to watch."

"I hate hockey," I remind him on the off chance he's forgotten.

"I'm well aware."

"I also may or may not still find you low-level annoying."

"Another fact I know all too well."

"Did I already say I hate hockey?"

He licks his lips, smiling. "You did."

"Can I think about it?"

"Of course. You know where I live, and you have my number."

"Yeah." A grin tugs at my lips. "I do."