Page 129 of Resorting to Romance

“Um. No. That would be a hard pass.”

“Let me know if that changes. I’m a persuasive guy, boss.”

I chuckle. “Keep it between us.”

“You’ve got it.”

And, of course, Ben zips his lips.

I spend the evening in the extreme silence of my home—just me and Shaka eating dinner and hanging out on the couch while some documentary I’m not even really watching plays in the background.

I’ve been meaning to call Mila to talk to her about me telling Ben this afternoon. I keep myself busy instead. After being at school with Noah this morning, I feel all the more certain that I want to be the man in Mila’s life—in Noah’s life too.

But something beneath the surface feels like it does when a storm’s blowing in. It sounds crazy, but I feel as if this phone call would be the last one—like Mila’s finished with me. She doesn’t need our charade anymore. Maybe it’s instinct or intuition.

It could be fear—I’ve never wanted anything or anyone like I want her. The stakes are so incredibly high. I’m clinching at the crux moment. I’ll call her before it gets too late tonight. I just have to get my bearings.

It’s well past dinner when there’s a knock on my front door. I click off the TV. When I open the door, I must look confused. Mila’s aunt, Phyllis, is standing on my porch. I can’t describe her expression except to say she means business.

“Phyllis, what brings you all the way over to the Descanso side of the island at this time of night? Is everything okay?”

She steps past me into my living room where Shaka does some form of doggie hula as a greeting. I know grown hula kane who wish they could swish their hips like my dog. Kala’s dog. Whatever.

“You need to make your move,” Phyllis says without any other preface or greeting.

“Okay. Are we talking about Mila here?”

“Yes. We’re talking about my niece.”

“Have a seat.” I gesture toward the couches.

“I’m not staying.”

“Okay. Well … I …”

I try to think of how to ask Phyllis if she knows Mila and I aren’t actually dating. Her command pretty much gives me my answer, but I don’t want to assume.

“Kai. I know you and Mila have been putting on a show. Show’s over. It’s time to make your move.”

I want to ask her how she found out, but I’m so beyond caring, so tired of pretending, so weary of longing for the woman I love while I have her right in my arms.

“I’m trying to go slowly.” I can’t believe I say this next sentence, but I do. “I don’t want to startle her like a starfish.”

“A starfish?”

“Sea star … starfish … whichever name you call it. I don’t want to startle her and send her bouncing away.”

Phyllis stares at me for a count of three. Then she shakes her head as if she’ll never understand the sea star analogy. I get it. I had to have an actual marine biologist spell it out for me.

“Do you love Mila?” Phyllis asks. She’s never been one to beat around the bush.

There’s an urgency in Phyllis’ voice that tells me there’s a story there. And a part of me wonders if it has to do with Brad. He was so desperate to see Mila, so eager to get her alone. If Phyllis knows we’re faking, does Brad? Did he swoop in the first chance he got? Is Mila actually considering giving him a chance?

My heart rate starts to kick up at the thought of losing Mila to Brad.

“Do you love her?” Phyllis repeats.

I thought I had answered, but I guess my brain spiraled instead.

---