When she uncovers his plan to lead an entirely uneventful life, Mia Evian is determined to teach Preston Maddox how to stop living like a ghost, but Mia and Preston have history, tension, and a lot of complicated feelings.
...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
The trouble with avoiding something you've been dreading is that when that thing inevitably creeps up, it hits you like a frying pan to the face.
It's Dad's birthday.
A little over a month after moving to London, I'm dragging myself home to Cardiff in honour of the big event. It's not even a big event, really; he's turning forty-six, so it's not like it's a special birthday. I doubt he'd even mind if I didn't bother. The issue I have is that an inexplicable, crippling guilt will develop inside me if I don't because if I don't, no one will. And despite Dad's flaws, of which there are many, the thought of him spending his birthday entirely alone makes me feel, in short, shit.
As I force myself onto a train at Paddington with an overstuffed weekend bag, I try to focus on the pros. Pro: I'll get a chance to see Mum too. Pro: Preston's also home this weekend, so I can selfishly vent to him if needed. Pro: I can visit Aiden. Con: Dad.
Ugh. I try not to think about it as I blast my headphones up to full volume to amplify the distraction.
I'd been hoping for a lift from Cardiff Central station to Dad's house, but earlier this morning, he'd broken the news he'd be spending the afternoon at his local pub. I of all people know that mixing alcohol and driving is a terrible idea, so I was hardly going to push him on it. The concern now, however, is how drunk he'll be when he arrives home, and what time he arrives home. One thing I know for sure is that I'll be sorting out my own dinner tonight. It's his loss, really; I was going to offer I buy us both a takeaway.
Takeaway or no takeaway, we'd planned to spend the evening together, but fuck that, I guess.
I'm grumbling as soon as my feet hit Welsh soil, and I don't stop grumbling as I tap out through the train station's barriers. The only thing capable of putting a stop to my whining is the sight of Aiden, wide-eyed and bushy-tailed, standing outside the station entrance—or, well, exit in my case.
I stammer as I gape at him. 'Are you lost?'
Unsurprisingly, his response is a big, fat laugh. 'I still live here, remember? A little over a month in the big smoke and you're already forgetting us country-folk.'
He begins walking and I instinctively follow. 'You're born and bred in Cardiff, you clown, hardly country-folk!'
He's giggling as he spins on the spot, then takes my bag from my hand. Before I can thank him, he hurls an insult at me.
'Holy mackerel, Mia, you got a corpse in here?'
'Shut up.'
He starts giggling again, and only now do I realise he's leading me towards the station's car park.
'Quick one,' I say, 'why are you here and where are you taking me?'
Aiden bats the air as we walk side-by-side. 'Preston said your dad bailed, so we're acting as stand-in chauffeurs.'
