21

Beth

For the umpteenth time, I'm at a loss for words.

I'm walking hand in hand with Milo, wearing the necklace he gave me as a nod to the grand gesture from my favorite romance ever, over an anniversary lunch I didn't even know we had, during which he basically told me he thought we were soulmates, and now he's leading me somewhere else for another surprise.

How is this happening?

I'm both elated and uneasy at the same time.

Elated because, hello, this sweet, sensitive side of Milo is one of my favorite things about him.

But uneasy because I was such a stitch to him that I didn't even think he would be capable of having a side like this.

I made assumptions about him because…what? He was a pro hockey player? He looked grumpy on the ice? He doesn't talk a lot in social settings?

When did I become so judgmental?

It's not a nice feeling when you discover something about yourself you're not proud of.

I will revisit this again later—one apology is nowhere near enough—but right now, I'm going to put that to the side and enjoy whatever Milo has in store.

As we walk hand in hand, I sneak a glance at him.

I stand by what I told him at the diner. He really is the strongest man I know. I haven't made any of this easy, and not once has he turned around and treated me badly. And he's stayed true to his word, not pressuring me into doing anything I'm not ready for physically. He really is a patient man.

Spending time together this past year has helped me release a lot of the old stuff I was holding onto. In my mind, there's now a clear distinction between how I've been treated by guys before and how Milo treats me.

I guess that's what comes with being with a real man, a man who knows how to treat a woman right.

I have nothing to fear, no impending betrayal to anticipate, no heartbreak looming around the corner. So I've released it, determined not to let those things from the past stand in the way of the amazing thing Milo and I have.

We come to a stop in front of Miss Patty's salon.

"Here we are," he says with a broad smile.

"Aw, did you read an article online about how joint mani-pedis are a new trend? Because, let me assure you, they most definitely are not."

He chuckles. "We're not doing a joint mani-pedi."

"Then why are we here?"

He holds open the door for me. "All will be revealed shortly."

"Ah, Milo, doll." Miss Patty welcomes us as we enter. "And Beth, good to see you."

"Hey, Miss Patty."

"Come on over," she says, waving Milo over to a styling chair.

Milo smiles at me before following Miss Patty's lead. I stay close, still totally in the dark as to what is going on.

What could it be?

Why has Milo brought me to a hair?—

No.

Noooo.

I think you're going to like this.

He's cutting off his man bun.

"Charlotte will be over in a sec, doll," Miss Patty says as Milo takes a seat in the salon chair. "Can I get either of you anything while you wait?"

"I'm good," Milo replies.

"Same," I manage before Miss Patty totters away.

As soon as she's out of earshot, I lunge toward him. "Are you cutting your hair?"

"I sure am. Say sayonara to the man bun." He's smiling, but when he sees my face, the smile vanishes. "What's wrong? I thought you'd be jumping for joy. Wait. Are you sad you won't be able to tease me about it anymore?"

"That's not it." I slump into the empty chair beside him. "I was…kinda liking it."

"You serious?"

I nod. "Yeah."

"Oh. But I have to cut it."

"What do you mean you have to cut it?"

Before he can answer, Charlotte comes bouncing over. I know her, and she's really nice but way too cheery and upbeat for us to be close friends.

"Hey, Beth."

"Hi, Charlotte."

She turns her attention to Milo. "Hey, Milo. This is such an amazing thing you're doing."

He's cutting his hair. What's so amazing about that?

Something isn't adding up here, and I'm not just thinking that because I'm in shock and yes, even a little sad, that the man bun will be no more.

"What's going on?" I ask.

Charlotte spins around to me. "Milo is donating his hair to make a human wig for children going through chemotherapy."

"Oh."

Milo leans forward so I can see him behind Charlotte and smiles. "Surprise!"

Yeah, he can say that again.

Charlotte gets to work, and I sit next to him, watching in a stunned silence.

Just when I think I couldn't have made any more wrong assumptions about the guy, he goes ahead and does something amazing like this. The thing I didn't like and would tease him about so much is actually the nicest, sweetest thing he's doing for sick kids.

When Charlotte excuses herself to get something, I lean forward and ask, "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I wanted my haircut to be a surprise."

"I don't mean the haircut. I mean the reason why you grew your hair long in the first place."

"What? And risk you liking me? No way."

He smiles, and while I appreciate he's trying to make me feel better, it doesn't work. I feel bad, and I should feel bad. I deserve to.

"What made you do it?" I ask.

"Hockey teams visit sick kids in hospitals," he explains. "One day, I was speaking with a nurse who mentioned how expensive human hair wigs are. It got me thinking, since I have such wonderful hair, why not grow it out and put it to good use? This will be my third wig."

I almost topple out of the chair. "You've done this twice before?"

"I have." He pauses. "And stop looking at me like that?"

"Like what?"

"Like you're making this into a thing."

"It is a thing."

"It's not a thing. Or if it is, it's a tiny, minuscule thing. The kids who have to endure chemotherapy, they're the heroes. I'm just some guy whose hair grows quickly and can pull off—wait, sort of pull off—a man bun."

Charlotte returns, robbing me of the chance to correct him on both counts.

One, he can pull off a man bun.

And two, he's a hero, too, regardless of if he's willing to admit it or not.

Whether it's adapting to sudden and unexpected fatherhood, rushing into a crumbling building to save lives, or growing his hair out for sick children, Milo Payne is my hero.

And as I sit here, watching Charlotte transform him into a new man right before my eyes, something else dawns on me.

Something that should be scary…but isn't.

Something I can pass off as new…though it's not.

Something that I could try to deny…but won't.

I, Beth Moore, am head over hardcover in love with Milo Payne.

"You said I have the whole afternoon off, right?" I ask a newly short-haired Milo once we're on the sidewalk.

"That's right."

He glances at his reflection in the storefront window and plays with his hair. "You really think it looks okay?"

It looks way more than okay. "You look incredible."

"I think she left it a little too long at the top. I don't want it to be too stylish."

"It's not too stylish," I say, curling my hand around his arm and gently steering him away from the window. "It's just the right amount of stylish. Besides, I assume you're going to grow it out again?"

"I am."

"Then it's a good thing she left a little length."

"Yeah, I suppose you're right."

"I'm always right. Now, back to my question. Are we free this afternoon?"

"We are."

"Good. Because I'm ready."

We come to a sudden halt.

"Ready for…?"

"I think you know." I grin up at him. "Unless that's not amenable for you."

"Oh, no. It's amenable. It's incredibly amenable. It's more amenable than anything has ever been amenable in the entire history of human amenableness."

I giggle. "Good."

He looks at me with soft, caring eyes. "Are you sure?"

"I am." I exhale. "I feel safe with you, and I want to do this. I want you, Milo."

His eyes light up. "You are safe, Beth. I promise you."

I slide my hand over his solid chest. "I know. Now let's get moving."

We get moving.

"Uhhh…"

We get moving all the way to my house until we spot Boden and the kids playing out the front of Milo's place.

"Don't worry. I have a secret route," I say, grabbing him by the hand.

"Do I want to know why you need to have a secret route to your own house?" he asks as we sneak past the rose bushes by the side of my other neighbor, Mrs. Hinkley's house.

"You really don't."

We sneak through her backyard, and I lift the loose fence palings for Milo to go under. He goes first then spins around, holding them up for me.

We race through my yard and into my house through the back door for an afternoon I will never forget as long as I live.

I let out a startled noise as I'm sprayed with water from the tub.

"Jonah, no," Milo says firmly, and Jonah stops splashing immediately. "Here. Play with your new boat."

"Oh-tay."

Milo hands me a towel. "I'm so sorry. But I did warn you."

I start drying off. "You did. Several times. I just didn't believe one small kid could splash so much."

"Welcome to toddler bathtime."

I place the towel on the edge of the tub and stare up into Milo's eyes. "Thank you for letting me be a part of this."

He breaks out into a massive smile, and how could I have ever made jokes about scaring children away? A smiling Milo is one of my favorite Milos.

"I'm happy you wanted to be here," he says. "But keep the towel close. You'll never know when you might need it again."

I watch as he gently washes his son, his large hands somehow soft and careful, guiding Jonah through the bath with ease. There's something so tender and natural about the way he handles him, and it melts my heart to see this side of him.

It's been a week since we were intimate, and this is the first night I'm staying over. It's a big deal. Just like Milo inviting me to be part of the kids' nighttime routine. It means things are getting even more serious, becoming even more real.

And the really wild part? I'm still not freaking out.

This feels right, and that feeling is so strong it overpowers whatever fears I have from my past relationships. My head knows Milo won't ever treat me the way I've been treated before. And more importantly, so does my heart.

After finishing the bath, Milo hands Jonah over to me, and I wrap him up in a fluffy white towel, his little face peeking out with a smile as he chats about his boats. Milo lifts him up and carries him to his bedroom where we're met by the soft glow of a nightlight casting gentle shadows on the walls.

I dry Jonah off as Milo picks up a bright-red fire pajamas set. It's adorable, the way he fumbles with the tiny pajama buttons, his hands too big for the task. He looks up and catches me gawking at him.

"These are his favorite," he explains with a bashful grin.

Jonah claps excitedly, his face lighting up. "Fave-wit! Fave-wit! Fave-wit!"

I hand Jonah over to him, and there's a tender sweetness in the way he carefully tugs the sleeves over Jonah's little arms.

"You're a natural," I say quietly.

"Months of practice," he quips back.

"Modesty doesn't suit you," I whisper into his ear, and he lets out a low chuckle.

"Noted."

Together, we help Jonah climb into his toddler bed, which is low to the ground and surrounded by an assortment of stuffed animals.

Milo tucks a blanket snugly around him as Jonah settles in, his small body wriggling for the perfect spot. He gives Jonah a goodnight kiss on the forehead, and I do the same, before he puts on soft lullaby music in the background. In seconds, Jonah's eyes start to droop.

"Wish I could fall asleep that fast," I whisper.

Milo grins, his eyes sparkling in the soft light as he looks at his son. "Same."

Jonah's soft breathing fills the room as he drifts off, and we quietly step out, leaving the door slightly ajar.

"One down, one to go," Milo says as we reach Josie's door. "She usually goes to bed a little later, but after a day at her favorite bookstore, followed by the park, and an afternoon of arts and crafts?—"

"Don't forget the puzzles."

"How could I?" Milo cups my face in his big hands. "The kids had fun today. Thank you."

I quirk a brow. "Just the kids had fun?"

He smiles. "I had fun, too. I always do when I'm with you."

I lift on my toes and press my lips to his. "Correct answer."

We step into Josie's room. She's already in bed, reading, and doesn't even notice us.

"Reminds me of someone else I know," Milo murmurs.

I shrug. "Sorry not sorry."

He chuckles. "Hey, sweetie."

"Hey, Dad."

Her eyes are still glued to the page. It so reminds me of myself at that age.

"Josie."

She looks up. "Sorry. Oh, Beth. Hi!"

"Hi yourself."

"Can you read me a story please?"

I glance at Milo, and he gives me a nod.

"Sure. I'd love to," I say, sitting down on the edge of the bed.

I expect Milo to join me on the other side, but instead, he says, "I might leave you ladies to it."

"Oh."

"If that's okay?"

"Yeah, of course." I glance at Josie and smile. "We don't need boys, do we?"

"Boys are the worst."

Milo laughs and gives us a wave before slipping out the door.

I start reading her a story and after a few minutes, her eyelids grow heavy. She lets out a yawn, and right before she falls asleep, she murmurs, "I love my daddy."

It's so sweet. I press a kiss on her forehead and think to myself, Yeah, I love him, too.