Page 101 of One Billion Reasons

She colors. “Apologies, I’m thrilled Miles is buying it. I feel like I’m really putting my foot in things today. I’ll leave you alone with the paperwork. I have the cashier’s check and the wire instructions for the remaining amount.” I’m unable to respond, and she gets up, shutting the rickety door behind her.

I look around the space. It’s mostly bare in this room, just huge windows and some potted plants. Tables line the space on two walls.

I pull the envelope toward me with shaking hands. The top paper on the stack is a typed page.

Lane,

I couldn’t think of another way to do this, so I’m sorry if this is taking you by surprise. You know how much this property means to me. What I don’t think you know is how much you mean to me. That’s my fault. I want nothing more than for you to find happiness and stability. All I’ve ever wanted is to help provide those things for you. I thought you wouldn’t accept this gift, so I’ve removed your choice (sorry, but not really). The deed is already in your name, and it would create serious financial implications for Catherine if the sale fell through. So you see, you really have no choice but to accept this building as your studio, and the Montauk house as your home.

Renovate it, invite Mallory to live with you, do whatever you want. But I hope you’ll keep it in your family, and enjoy it the way we always did together.

Giving this to you is the greatest gift I can give myself. So really, you’re doing me a favor by accepting it.

All my love,

Miles

P.S. The stump is still intact. I checked again yesterday.

A drop of water wets the paper. I look up at the ceiling and then touch my face and realize I’m crying.

I rifle through the rest of the papers, and sign on each dotted line where there’s a yellow tab. I open the door off the main area to see a fully intact darkroom ready for me to use. He built me a darkroom. Holy shit. I stare at it in shock. And then I remember Liam’s words from last week: The only way I know how he feels is through actions. He’s not great with words. Not when it comes to feelings. Miles shows everyone around him how he cares about them with actions. He takes care of everyone. But who will take care of him?

When I finally stumble out of the house and into the front yard, I pass the packet to a concerned-looking Catherine, who awkwardly pats me on the shoulder and fishes a key out of her purse.

“Are you okay?”

“Very okay. Better than okay.” I smile through my tears. “I have to ask, though. I thought you were selling to Mark?”

She presses the key into my palm. “I was going to. Especially after I heard about the fake relationship and how you left Miles. But he called me and—”

“What?”

She bites her lip. “I’m not sure if I should tell you this.” She sighs. “But he begged me to sell to him, for you. Literally begged me. He told me he would give me whatever I wanted, that he was in love with you, and all he wanted was for you to have the Montauk house and the property. Something about a stump?” She tilts her head in confusion. “Do you know about a stump?”

I nod, mutely.

“Well, anyways. I’ve never heard him beg. For anything. I’ve known Miles for years, and he has a lot of pride. So whatever you did, keep doing it.” She shakes her head. “Anyways, congratulations, Lane. You’re the new owner of 55 Ditch Lane. I hope I see you soon. When you’re feeling more, um, yourself.”

I float out of the yard and down the driveway. I need to text Miles. This is insane. I can’t accept the house, even though I’m pretty sure I just did. My hands shake slightly as I type out a message.

Lane

Where are you?

Miles

Next door

His response is immediate, and when I walk down the gravel driveway, past the hedges and the trees hanging overhead, he’s there. I stop short. He’s so impossibly handsome in yet another suit, one I haven’t seen before, a light blue-grey that makes his eyes look bright. His hands are shoved in his pockets and his hair is windblown.

“Hi.” My pulse is a nervous animal, skittering and jumping.

He smiles back, soft and uncertain, like he can’t help it, but he’s not sure how I’ll react.

“Come with me.” He’s perfectly still while he waits for my response.

“Okay.”

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