17. Miles

17

MILES

W hen Lila arrived at the house bright and early for family day, her hair was disheveled, her eyes smudged with leftover makeup, and there was a faint red hickey on her neck. Clearly, someone had had an eventful night.

Right. That must have been the aftermath of her date with Felipe. My best friend, and now the man I envied most in the world. Every time I thought about them together, a sharp pang of jealousy and longing surged through me, twisting my insides. Not that I begrudged Felipe his happiness—but Christ, I needed to get my attraction to Lila Dawson under control.

"Good morning," Lila greeted, her voice bright. Her smile was radiant, and even with her smudged makeup, she looked effortlessly beautiful. Was I imagining the added pep in her demeanor, or had her date with Felipe really been so great?

"Olivia is in her playroom," I replied abruptly, trying to keep my tone neutral. Lila frowned, but I pushed through, wanting to get this day started already. "She's, uh, excited about Family Day." I cleared my throat, avoiding Lila's chocolate brown eyes despite my natural inclination to gaze into them.

"Yeah, me too," Lila said slowly. Clearly, she could sense that something was off, but perhaps the near-miss almost-kiss that time she hugged me had taught her not to pry. "I'll, uh, go get her ready, and we can head out."

"Fine," I said.

As she walked away, her perfume lingered in the air, sweet as candy and painfully her. I watched Lila disappear around the corner, struggling to fall back into my compartmentalization habits that had always kept me safe. But Lila Dawson was a big, red DANGER sign, jumbling my neat brain into a mess of confusion. She stirred feelings in me that I thought were buried with Janessa, and that terrified me to no end.

Lila and I both preferred to travel by subway, so as we walked to the station, I carried the neatly-packed bag of Olivia's things and the quaint picnic basket while Lila held my daughter's hand. The train itself was crowded, the usual cacophony of city sounds and voices enveloping us the second we stepped into the car. Olivia was excited, her chatter filling the space between us, and she surprised me by grabbing my hand in the small one she still had free, creating a link between Lila and me.

"I love the park, Daddy," she said just to me as we found a place to stand, sounding more than a little shy. My chest tightened. My own child was afraid to talk to me, even about something so simple, and I knew it was my fault. Today was supposed to be the first step toward fixing it.

"I know, sweetheart," I said slowly. "You're going to have lots of fun today."

It was the best I could come up with, flat and unenthused as it was, but Olivia smiled like I'd told her I was buying her a pony. My poor child, so easily impressed by the bare minimum of attention from her father. Guilt was a bitter taste in my mouth, but I told myself I was trying—a truth that went down easier when Lila gave me an encouraging nod.

As we swayed with the motion of the train, Lila knelt beside Olivia, whispering silliness into her ear and making her giggle with mirth. I marveled at her ease with my daughter. She made it look so effortless, the way she engaged with Olivia on a human, equal level rather than as an authority figure or someone to fear. I watched them closely, as if trying to gather tips for being warmer and more involved with my child—I was a scientist through and through, and evidence-gathering was my greatest asset.

As we neared our stop, a kind older woman seated across from us began to take notice. She wore a bright purple pair of glasses on her prominent nose, a colorful scarf wrapped snugly around her neck. Her watery blue eyes met mine across the aisle with interest. "What a beautiful family you have," she said, her voice warm and sincere as she looked at Lila, Olivia, and me.

The comment hit me like a knife to the heart. To this outsider, we looked whole, unmarred by the loss that was still so hard for me to shake. This woman maybe even thought that Lila Dawson was my wife, that Olivia was our adopted child, with her deep skin tone and thick curls that favored neither Lila's golden paleness nor my lab-grown pallor. For a second, the idea of it was overwhelmingly beautiful to me—Lila as Olivia's adoptive mother and my partner, the brightness to pull me from the shadows. It was so appealing, in fact, that something came over me, and rather than correcting the stranger on the train, I pulled Lila under my arm and said, "Thank you."

I felt Lila stiffen in surprise for a split second. But then she relaxed, her hand coming to rest on my chest as if we were indeed a couple. "Thanks so much," Lila agreed, smiling up at me with a genuine sweetness that made me stop breathing for a second. It was a charade, of course, and I knew that. But for a moment, with Lila pressed against me, it felt so natural, so right. Her touch was warm, and I could feel her heartbeat against my side, syncing with mine.

When we got off the train and Olivia ran a few steps in front of us, the park in sight and her excitement uncontainable, Lila looked up at me with a playful glint in her eye. "So, we're a family now, huh?"

Embarrassed and overwhelmed and surprisingly happy, I laughed. Damn, it had been a long time since I'd laughed—that was, until this surprising young woman had stepped into my life. Lila laughed too, a musical sound that made my heart feel like a helium balloon. The tension between us seemed to break for the first time all morning.

"Sorry, sorry. It just seemed easier than trying to explain, so I thought I'd let her have her fantasy for a second." I looked down at Lila walking next to me, feeling strangely giddy. She was watching me, smiling softly as if she had something to say. "What?" I asked.

"I was just thinking that you have a really cute laugh," she told me shyly.

I was taken aback, but pleased. And like I was the old Miles Kramer again, the young man who hadn't yet experienced loss, I actually flirted with her. "Do I? Well, you're quite cute too, all the time. Especially when you blush."

Lila's cheeks turned pink as if on cue, and she ducked her head to hide the smile pulling at her lips. "Stop it," she said, but there was no real protest in her voice. I was left reeling from my own audacity, and from the lack of guilt I felt at flirting with someone other than my late wife.

We found a spot in the park, spreading out the picnic blanket over the grass. Olivia ran off to chase a butterfly while Lila and I laid out the treats she'd prepared, but my daughter sweetly trotted back over when Lila called her over for our family park brunch.

We'd chosen the right day for it. The weather was perfect, the sun bright but not scorching, with a light breeze that carried the scents of freshly cut grass and blooming flowers. The sky was a brilliant blue, with a few fluffy white clouds lazily drifting by. As we settled down, the sounds of the park surrounded us—children laughing, dogs barking, and the distant hum of city life.

Lila handed Olivia a sandwich, carefully cut into small, easy-to-hold pieces. Olivia's eyes lit up as she took a bite. "This is so yummy, Lila!" she exclaimed, her mouth full.

"I'm glad you like it, sweetheart," Lila replied, laughing a little. She leaned over to me, telling me in a whisper, "It's just peanut butter and jelly with the crunchy peanut butter she likes. She's gotten really into a compliments phase lately."

I smiled, watching Olivia hum and dance to herself as she munched her sandwich.

We ate in comfortable silence for a while, enjoying the simple pleasure of good food and each other's company. I watched Olivia, her face smeared with jelly as she concentrated on her sandwich, and felt a surge of tenderness. She looked so happy, so carefree. It was a stark contrast to the quiet, withdrawn child she was around me. Lila knew how to bring out the best in all of us, it seemed.

"Lila, can we have fruit?" Olivia asked, her eyes wide.

"Of course, hon. I brought strawberries, just for you," Lila said, reaching into the picnic basket and pulling out a container of the bright red berries, sliced neatly into even pieces.

Olivia's face lit up with joy. "Yay! My favorite!"

"They're my favorite, too," I told my little girl, and just that simple comparison to me made her grin hugely.

"Really?"

"Really. Your mama loved them, too," I heard myself saying. And because I'd started the story, despite the sharp pain it elicited, I continued. "When she… well, when you were in her tummy, she had this app on her phone that told us about you, growing. Early on, it told us you were just the size of a strawberry, and we called you that for a while. Our little strawberry. Before we knew what we were going to name you."

I could feel Lila's gaze locked on my face, but I kept my own gaze on my daughter. Her eyes were wide with wonder, her small mouth open just a little bit.

"Wow," she said.

"Yeah," I agreed, though my throat felt constricted. "Wow."

After a while, we wrapped up our little meal, and Lila enlisted Olivia to help pack everything away and throw out any trash. With almost no help from me, Olivia's actual parent, Lila seemed to be raising my child to be polite and thoughtful. Or maybe it was Janessa's genes coming through in another way.

Olivia desperately wanted to go play, so Lila and I nodded her toward one of the playgrounds that was in our view so we could keep an eye on her. I sat on the blanket, shielding my eyes from the sun with a raised hand so I could watch Olivia run.

"You're really good with her," I said to Lila quietly, not looking away from the pleasant childhood scene. Unlike me, Olivia was a natural people-person, daringly approaching kids bigger than her to ask them to play. She'd already befriended a pair of twins who looked about five when Lila spoke.

"She's a wonderful kid. It's easy to be good with her," Lila replied from beside me. Her next words were softer, testing the waters. "You're pretty good with her, too, when you're around."

I stiffened. Lila shifted uncomfortably, adjusting her posture out of something like embarrassment. I could feel the words she wasn't saying next hanging between us, and I couldn't stand the waiting. So I looked at her, my eyes asking her to spit it out. But where I expected a reproach, even a lecture, Lila's face softened into a sad smile.

"She misses her dad, you know."

Just those words, and a wave of pain and grief and something like love smashed into my chest. I could feel my eyes prickling, my jaw tensing in my attempt to maintain composure and never, ever allow a tear to fall.

"I… it's been hard," I explained, my voice hoarse. "Since her mother died, I've… well, Olivia looks so much like her. It's just…"

"Hard," Lila completed for me, moving closer beside me. We were almost touching, but not quite. "I'm so sorry."

"Me, too," I said with a dry, humorless laugh. "Janessa… she was the one who was meant to be this wonderful parent. All her softness, and she grew up with these great parents, too. After she passed, Olivia stayed with her grandparents for weeks. It must have been a real shock to her little system when she had to come back to live with me. Hell, I never even had much of a relationship with my own father. He shipped me off to boarding school the second he could, and… I guess I just worry. That I'm doing the same with her. That I can't be a good dad without her mom here with me."

Lila kindly overlooked the crack in my voice. If I'd been able to let myself cry, she probably would have welcomed my tears with the same sweet openness she had with everyone. Maybe that quality in her was what made me say more.

"I'm hardly a person without Janessa. She had all the capacity in the world for love, and I'm… cold. Robotic, some people say. Maybe they're right."

"I don't see you that way at all," Lila told me gently. Carefully, she placed her hand over mine on the picnic blanket, and just that casual contact was like a firework shooting through me. Real-life sparks flying. Her cheeks were a little flushed, and she struggled to meet my eyes. She must have felt it, too.

There was nothing I wanted more in that moment than to follow the signals my body was giving me, to lean in and kiss Lila Dawson on her sweet mouth that always said such kind, encouraging things. But it was Family Day. Olivia was playing just a few yards in front of us. If there ever were a time for such a thing, now wasn't it.

Instead, I pulled my hand back from hers and asked, "How was your date with Felipe?"

Lila blinked slowly, coming out of a haze. "Oh, uh… he told you we went out?"

"He told me you were going to," I explained. I ignored my heartbeat, so insistently pounding in my ears, reminding me how badly I wanted her.

"Oh," she said again. "Um, yeah, we… we had a good time. He's great."

"So great," I agreed, which was true despite my unenthusiastic tone.

Lila didn't offer any further details. She had no reason to answer my question in the first place, so that was perfectly fair. I reminded myself again that I had no claim over her, that Felipe was the far better match. But that didn't really deter the feelings that were swarming like bees in my chest. They craved her, any part of her. Even if she was with Felipe, too, I knew I wanted to experience what it would be like to woo, and kiss, and date Lila Dawson.

Fuck, that was bizarre to admit, even in my head. Some stupidly wishful part of me was also convinced, from the way she blushed and looked up at me through her lashes, that Lila wasn't too eager about the idea of belonging solely to someone else, either. Her posture was open to me, the energy between us still aflame with something rare and special.

But there was no way, no matter how open I might be to the idea of sharing Lila Dawson with my best friend, that she would want that, too. Lila was the kind of girl to dream of fairy-tale weddings and picket fences. Besides, she didn't see me as anything but her boss—whether she meant what she said about my cute laugh or not.