The next morning, I am a woman on a mission. I dress like I mean business in a form-fitting black dress with a short blazer and killer black heels. It takes me over an hour to get to Manhattan on public transport, but I don't even care. If I can pull this thing off–and do it better than Milo–I'll be living in luxury with the sevens.
For some reason, despite being the last thing I want to relive on my commute, I think about that kiss. Not just the kiss, I realize, but him. Milo Woods. It's ridiculous – not only because he's Milo, but because he's my coworker. I'd made that mistake before with Lucas, been burned for it even, and I will never put myself in that position again. No matter how good the kiss was.
After a few wrong turns – and nearly being mown down by a taxi – I make it to the top floor of my property. In a sick twist of fate, as I step out of the elevator, ready to meet my staging director, there Milo is. I step forward and blink like my eyes are deceiving me, which only amuses him. "What," I say, "are you doing here?"
He raises an eyebrow like it's obvious. "This is where my apartment is."
"Oh," I say because his apartment being two doors over means I'll see far more of him than I'd like. Still, as long as we stay out of each other's way, things should run smoothly. "Well, good morning."
He raises an eyebrow at my chipper tone because, apparently, Milo Woods is not a morning person. His eyes drop to my outfit, and I suddenly feel exposed. My dress falls somewhere between smart and sexy, the kind that screams, I know what I'm doing, buy my property! At least, I hope it does.
I take in his outfit, a fitted gray shirt, black trousers, and another vampire-style coat that nearly reaches his ankles. Clutched between his ridiculously large palms is a steaming cup of coffee. My eyes fall to the cup, and I have to stop myself from salivating. I'd had to forgo my usual coffee break this morning or risk being late.
"Why are you giving my coffee bedroom eyes?" Milo asks.
My eyes snap to his. "These aren't my bedroom eyes."
He smirks. "What are your bedroom eyes, then?"
I clear my throat and try not to think about our elevator kiss. "Wouldn't you like to know."
Cheeks hot, I turn on my heel and unlock my apartment before stepping inside. The place – as expected – is empty, which means I need to ship in the furniture that I think will appeal to the clientele I'm trying to sell to. Looking around, this feels like a bachelor pad, and with the impressive addition of the Manhattan skyline, I imagine some rich tycoon coming here after work, ready to impress his 'friends.' That means that whatever I pick, whatever look I go for, has to reflect that.
I spend a few minutes just staring at the skyline. It's not that I think I'm hard done by – I make a fair bit of money working for Laurelle up on six–but when I see a property like this, it reminds me that up here, it's a whole other ball game.
I walk toward the balcony doors and slide them open. A cold wind suddenly slaps my cheeks, but I step onto the balcony anyway. Up here must be the best view in the whole of Manhattan, and I can only imagine what it's like at night. With some decent furniture and an electric heater, I'd never want to leave.
"Lucky for some," Milo says.
I feel him behind me, an invisible yet solid presence. I don't turn around because that's what he wants. He wants to see the discomfort on my face at him being so close. I won't give him the satisfaction.
"I bet whoever buys it will be miserable," I say to make myself feel better. "They'll be standing on this balcony surrounded by people, but they'll still feel alone."
"Doesn't everyone? At least they get to do it with a nice view."
He moves beside me, and I look at him now, unable to help myself. He's right–maybe not about everyone, but certainly about me. Since Luke left, I've been holed up in my apartment like a recluse, and I don't even have the bonus of a view to make me feel better.
"You don't strike me as the lonely type," I say, turning back to the skyline. While Milo can be anti-social and downright rude at times, I can tell he knows how to turn on the charm when he wants to. I doubt he stays lonely for long.
"Sounds like you've been thinking about me."
I ignore him and take in the view. "I can already picture it," I say, moving to the other side of the balcony. "Over there, I'll put the sofa and a small bar. I'm imagining some rich playboy tycoon, so he'll take his lovely friends over there for some drinks." I start my way back up toward Milo. "They can stand here while they look at the skyline." I turn so that I'm facing the horizon. "A small shelf or table of some sort here so that they can put their drinks on while they watch the sun go down."
"You've given this a lot of thought." He's right behind me again, and I tense. "You know, this looks like the rooftop where you forced yourself on me."
I turn around to face him before immediately regretting it. He's smirking because this is what he wants. He wants to get to me so he can swoop in like his usual calm, collected self and steal my promotion. Well, it won't work – not again.
"I don't remember you saying no," I say back. "I remember you following me into the elevator and then pushing me against the wall."
That smug look is wiped off his face, replaced by surprise. He'd expected me to get all shy and defensive, but I will beat him at his own game instead.
I step closer. Right now, he's so close that if I were to step forward again, I'd be pressed up against him. "Sounds like you've been thinking about me, too, Milo." Then, before he can speak, I step back and head for the door to meet the staging director.
She's already there waiting when I step into the hallway. Runway tall, with long red hair, red lips, red dress. She looks like a Christmas present wrapped in a pretty little bow. I feel plain and unfestive in my all-black attire, like the grinch who stole Christmas.
"Hi, I'm Ashley. Nice to meet you," she says, sticking out her hand, "and happy holidays! I'm so counting down the days until Christmas."
I smile tightly while shaking her hand. Christmas to me means resigning myself to an evening with my parents, listening to the pair of them argue. Not something I'm looking forward to.
"Happy holidays," I say.
Milo walks past and smiles pleasantly at Ashley before heading into his apartment. I hurriedly open the door and Ashley a tour of the apartment before we get down to business. "We need to go ultra-modern and sleek," I say. "Lots of glass, lots of black and dark gray. I'm thinking black sofas, glass coffee tables, that kind of thing, with some modern decor thrown in. It needs to look clean and sleek, practically unlived in."
"Uh-huh." She scribbles something down in her notebook while popping some bubble gum. When she looks up, she says, "I have a meeting with Mr. Woods in five. Is there anything else you want me to know?"
I frown. "About Milo?"
She gives me a funny look. "About the direction you want to go in for the apartment."
"Oh, no, I think that's everything. We've got two weeks to get it set up and ready, and then I need to arrange some viewings. Do you think that's manageable?"
She nods, then makes it to the door before turning and saying with a devilish smile, "Is he single, though?"
"Who?"
"Milo." She grins. "Surely a man that hot must be taken by now."
Truth be told, I have no idea whether Milo is single, although I'm going to assume not, considering the way he assaulted my mouth at Christmas. Still, I can imagine him as the type to have a different girl in his apartment every week–his being single is definitely a choice.
"I'm assuming so," I say, giving her a look that lets her know she's being unprofessional. Still, who am I to talk? I threw him into an elevator and practically jumped him.
She ignores my look and says, "Yummy."
I let her out and see Milo in the hallway with his arms folded. His eyes flit to mine, and for a second, I can't breathe. "Well, I should get going," I say, turning to Ashley. "So nice working with you. I can't wait to see what you do with the place." Then, as though it kills me, I glance at Milo and nod. "Milo."
He nods back, but I don't miss the twitch of his lip. "Kennedy."
Ashley looks between us uncertainly before resting those cat eyes on Milo. "Are you ready, Mr. Woods?"
My smile falters, so I squeeze past the pair of them and head into the elevator, where I stare at my reflection in the mirror opposite. I shouldn't care that Ashley is about to make the moves on Milo. Milo is my coworker, my competition, not to mention my sworn enemy. So why does my chest feel so tight?
Back in the office, Jess is typing away on her computer like a mad woman. I take my seat opposite and start to line up some potential buyers for the apartment. It's hard keeping up with my usual work on top of this, but I down as many coffees as I can and power on.
At some point, Milo walks into the office and sits at his computer. I dutifully ignore him and work harder than ever, making phone call after phone call while juggling clients. After sending a progress report to Laurelle, I stop for another coffee break, needing to catch my breath.
Milo sees me starting to get up and gets to his feet. He advances toward the coffee machine, his strides long and heavy and no match for mine. I titter after him in my heels, cursing his name under my breath.
"How'd your staging go?" he asks.
I stand behind him as he presses the button for espresso. "Great. I think Ashley's going to do a great job."
He nods. "What kind of look are you going for?"
"Ha," I say. "I don't think so."
He turns to look at me, the beginning of a smirk on his lips. "Relax, Kenny. I'm not gathering intel, just making friendly conversation. Ashley told me, anyway."
My mouth falls open. "She did?"
Amusement crosses his face. "Just in passing. She wanted to know if I wanted something similar, given we'll be working with the same clientele."
I scowl. "That is completely unprofessional."
He can't suppress his smile now – it is beautiful. "Professional," he repeats, and I can tell he's thinking I'm the last person who should be preaching about professionalism.
I hate him.
"Well, I'm starting to think the whole modern vibe is just so overdone. Maybe I'll go for a classic, old-fashioned playboy vibe," I say. I'm just talking rubbish at this point, but I hate that he knows all my plans–I want to throw him off.
"Interesting." He grabs his coffee from the machine and blows on the top while looking at me. "Well, good luck. Can't wait to see what you decide on."
I watch him walk back to his cubicle with a scowl on my face. When my espresso is ready, I sit back at my desk and plot all of the ways I am going to make him suffer.
At six-thirty, Harry bows out, leaving Milo, Patricia, and me. Patricia is on a call, Milo is bashing away on his keyboard, and I'm doing the same when the elevator doors open.
To my horror, Lucas steps out. The blood drains from my face as he scans the office, his gaze completely sweeping over Milo and Patricia and landing on me. They soften, and he walks down the path to my desk before stopping and straightening out his shirt.
"Hey," he says.
My throat burns in response. Words fail me. If I cry in front of Milo, I will never forgive myself. "Lucas?" His name feels strange and foreign on my tongue. I think I'm in shock.
Milo stops typing to watch us. Even Patricia puts her call on hold. They know all about how poor Kennedy was dumped in the run-up to Christmas, although they've always been polite enough not to mention it.
"I'm heading home," Lucas says by way of explanation, and the word home cuts a hole in my heart. Once upon a time, his home was our apartment. Me. "I just thought I'd come and see if I could drop by tomorrow to get the rest of my stuff. With everything being so hectic after, you know...I never got a chance."
I swallow hard. Jess had told me to burn and dump the things he'd left behind, but I couldn't bring myself to do it. He might be the scum of the earth, but I wouldn't stoop so low as to destroy his property. Now it sits under the bed in storage boxes, gathering dust.
I panic for a moment. Tomorrow is Friday night, so if I tell him to come by after work, he'll know I'm a loser with zero plans. "I'm actually out all evening tomorrow. Can you stop by Saturday afternoon? I'm free for an hour or two then."
He raises his eyebrows in surprise. "Uh, sure. I'll check with Alison, but Saturday should be good."
Of course he's surprised. He hadn't expected me to have a life after he left. In fact, he'd probably expected me to shut down completely and turn into a hermit. He doesn't need to know he's right.
"Great," I say tightly. "See you Saturday." I turn back to my computer before he's even left. He stands awkwardly before turning around and heading back into the elevator.
Despite staring at the screen, the words blur and make no sense. I can't think straight, can't comprehend that Lucas has come down here just to ask for his stuff back.
Didn't I mean anything to him?
Minutes pass before Patricia packs up and walks toward my desk. She stops, tilts her head, and I can see the pity all over her expression. "Kennedy? Are you okay?"
"I'm fine," I say brightly. "See you tomorrow, Patricia."
Her eyes soften. I hate it. "See you tomorrow," she says before looking over her shoulder. "Bye, Milo."
"Bye, Patricia."
I'm almost relieved when it's just Milo and me. I get back to work, but the pressure in my chest doesn't seem to let up, and when I feel like I can no longer hold it together, I turn off my laptop and pack up my things before slipping on my coat. Milo does the same, even though it's an hour earlier than our usual finish time, and we head toward the elevator.
Neither of us speaks. He probably doesn't know what to say to a girl on the verge of tears, and I couldn't speak if I tried. "I'll give you a ride home," he says when we get to the revolving doors. They spin us around, and we're thrown out onto the icy streets, where I grab the railing to help me down the steps. "Come on," Milo says without waiting for my response. He hooks my arm in his and we walk toward his car in silence. It reminds me of the night of the Christmas party, which I'm trying to block out. I don't need to be thinking about Milo's lips right now.
We climb inside. He turns on the engine before checking his side mirrors. As he reverses onto the main road, he says, "Are you okay?"
I keep my eyes on the window. If I look at him, I'll cry, and crying in front of Milo feels like the worst thing I could do. "I'm fine."
He nods and makes a left turn. "I'm sorry." He glances over. "About the breakup, I mean."
For some reason, hearing Milo say he's sorry leaves me with this massive lump in my throat. I'm so used to him teasing me, berating me, or both, that the sincerity in his tone has me feeling all kinds of vulnerable. I gaze through the window as I say, "He's engaged to someone else now."
"That quick?" he asks.
"Yep." I force myself to look at him now. He's all straight edges and angles from the side like his face has been carved from stone. "Meanwhile, I'm still single and living with my cat. Pathetic, right?"
"Depends. What kind of cat?" He looks at me as he says it, and my lack of smile makes his eyes soften. "It's not pathetic."
"I doubt he sees it that way."
We pull up to a stoplight, and he glances over. His eyes are dark. When he frowns, I can't help but notice how sexy it looks. "Why do you care what he thinks?"
"Why does anyone care what their ex thinks?"
"I don't."
I sigh. "Of course you don't. You're Milo Woods. Nothing ever fazes you. You're probably the ditcher, right? Not the ditched."
He frowns again. "That's not true. My ex broke up with me, not the other way around."
This surprises me. "Why?"
His expression hardens. His hands grip the steering wheel. "Long story. Regardless, your theory is wrong."
"Okay, look," I say, "I know I shouldn't care, but I do. I don't want him to think I'm still pining after him."
His eyebrow furrows. "Are you?"
"No," I say, and for the first time, I mean it. "It's just, it seems like his life is great without me, and my life is just...I mean, I'm spending Christmas with my parents this year, for crying out loud. I'm living in an apartment I can't afford." I realize I'm starting to sound desperate, so I add, "And most of the time, I'm fine with that. I just don't want him to see me like this and think it's because I can't cope without him."
I think this is my biggest fear about him coming over. One of Luke's goto insults was always that I'd never survive without him. That I'd somehow crumble if he left. The last thing I want is for him to think he's been proven right.
Milo is quiet for a little while until, finally, he pulls up outside of my apartment and turns to face me. His hands are still wrapped around the steering wheel, and the muscles in his arms tense as he watches me. "What if I come over Saturday?" he asks. "Pretend to be your boyfriend while he gets his stuff. Will that help?"
For a second, I just stare at him, shocked. No, shocked isn't the word. Flabbergasted. "Why would you do that?"
He rolls his eyes. "You're determined to think of me as some kind of monster, aren't you?" When I continue to blink at him, he says, "Look, I'm trying to help you out here. I figured if it's bothering you that much..."
"Okay," I say, sounding breathless. Pretending to have a boyfriend to make my ex jealous is about the pettiest thing I'll have ever done, but already I feel my stomach unclenching. "I mean, thank you. For doing this."
He nods and says, "No problem."
I give him one last look, and I swear, it's like I'm seeing him in a whole new light. The Milo I know would never go out of his way to help someone, especially me. Why is helping me now?
"Well, I'll see you tomorrow then," I say.
He nods, and without another word, I climb out and walk toward my apartment in some kind of trance. The first thing I do when I get inside is feed Mulan, who won't stop headbutting my leg with her face. Then I head into my bedroom and pull Luke's boxes from under the bed.
I sit cross-legged and spend the next hour going through them after months of trying to forget. I'd put some of our favorite memories in here along with his stuff, like the snow globe he'd bought me last Christmas and the photos we took this summer on the boat he rented out. We look so happy smiling into the camera, like one of those Instagram couples who seem to have a perfect life. For the longest time, I thought we did, despite all our problems. Luke disagreed.
When I can't take the trip down memory lane any longer, I stuff it back under the bed and shower before curling up on the couch. It's nights like this when I start to feel lonely. I imagine myself curled up on this sofa with somebody else, snuggled under the blanket. I think about their wandering hands as they slide up my thighs. I think of how warm their lips feel pressed against mine.
Before long, I realize I'm thinking about Milo.
A/N
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