Page 58 of Faking it with my Off Limits Neighbor

Milly beams a delighted smile and then launches herself at me. “Yay!”

Swiftly, I lift the arm holding my mug high in the air to save either of us from wearing its contents as she throws her arms around me.

“Thank you, Troy.”

* * *

It takes nearly three hours to get to the cottage, which, as Milly explained on the journey, was the reason she arrived at my house so early. We stopped at a tiny town five minutes from our destination to get supplies, and now we’re back on the road.

I’ll admit it; as depressed as I’m feeling, even I can’t help but be impressed when we pull into the driveway of the cottage. It’s situated on a clifftop overlooking a sandy beach and the gray-green ocean.

“Oh, this is so much better than the photos,” Milly declares, jumping from the truck and heading straight for the edge of the cliff.

I grab the groceries and meet her at the front door. She retrieves the key from under a large plant pot, nearly jumping with excitement, and unlocks the door before diving inside. I, on the other hand, have to duck a little so as not to hit my head. It really is an old cottage.

With the groceries put away, we find a winding path down the cliff that takes us onto the beach. The soft, warm wind tugs at our clothes and Milly’s hair. The smell of salt and sand mixes with the fresh air—which, I can’t deny, does have a cathartic sense about it.

We walk in silence at first; I think we’re both too in awe of our surroundings. After a little while, Milly asks me what Paris was like, specifically about the women there.

I shake my head. “I didn’t spend enough time with any of them to be able to make a judgment.”

“You’re telling me that you stayed celibate for ten whole years?”

My mouth twitches with a slight smile. “Not quite. That said, there was never anyone serious. I went on a few dates, but the longest I ever dated one woman was a month.”

“Why?” Milly frowns.

“I was too busy. Like you said before, chefs never stop.”

“Surely, that couldn’t have been the only reason,” Milly counters.

“No. It wasn’t,” I say wistfully. “Even though I was so far away, I never forgot about Charlie. I’ve come to realize that I never stopped loving her, and none of those women over there could ever compare.”

“If you still love her, why aren’t you fighting for her?”

I heave another sigh. “Because it’s not what Charlie wants. She’s made it very clear she never wants to see or hear from me again. I have to respect that, Milly.”

We make our way back up to the house after that. While I light the barbecue and grill the meat, Milly chops salad. We eat burgers and drink beer, watching the sun go down. The huge, roaring globe of fire spreads an orange rippling reflection across the ocean, which is more than breathtaking.

Wrapped in blankets, we stay outside until we can see the stars twinkling in the clearest sky I’ve seen in years. There’s no light pollution out here, and Milly, gasping with wonder, cannot believe how many stars she can actually see. We retire to bed much later, both relaxed but tired.

The next morning, I wake to the smell of bacon. Strolling into the kitchen, I see Milly standing at the stove, swaying back and forth like there’s music playing. But I can’t hear anything. It takes me a minute to realize that she’s wearing headphones. Fearful of making her jump, lest she burn herself, I give her a wide berth until she catches me in her peripheral vision.

“Morning,” she says, plucking an earphone from her ear. “Pancakes?”

“Sounds great.” I nod.

I put coffee on and then wander out to the deck. The sound of waves rushing back and forth over the beach is the most soothing sound I’ve ever woken up to, and breathing in the salty air, I wonder if I could find somewhere to live just like this. I’d be away from all the hustle and bustle of everyday life. And after a hectic day in the kitchen, this would be the perfect place to return to.

We eat breakfast outside with little conversation and then get dressed and head back down to the beach.

“It really is beautiful here,” I say, my feet sinking into the golden sand.

We take our shoes off and wade into the freezing cold water. Milly squeals at how cold it is, but I find it soothing. I can’t explain, but the cold seems to settle my thoughts.

We return to the house a few hours later and spend the afternoon drinking beers on the deck. Milly does a good job of lifting me out of my depressed mood by regaling me with hilarious stories of her life since I’ve been gone. Listening to her, I realize how much of her life I’ve missed.

I allow myself to consider how one single decision affected so many lives, and regret washes over me. I should have stayed. I should have told Mr. Woods where to shove it. I should have grabbed Charlie from his clutches and persuaded my parents to let her move in with us. There had been options. I was just too young and immature to see them back then.

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