Page 57 of Keeping It Professional

I closed my eyes and saw flames, and twisted metal. Flames reflected in hubcaps. In dying eyes. I saw the man with the pipe through his gut like a spear, the fear on his face as he fought me off. I thought we’d saved him. Wehad, for a while.

“Sophie? You can tell me?—”

“It’s all right,” I said. “I’m just frustrated, is all.”

“Are you sure? Because?—”

“No.” I couldn’t tell Mom. She couldn’t even watch things like that on the news. Not since the awful way she’d lost Dad. She’d see a shooting, an accident, any violence at all, andclick, she’d blip back to the safety of Netflix.

“He’s probably just processing,” she said. “You and I work through our troubles by talking, but some people need to get their own heads straight first. Your father was like that. It drove me insane.”

“So, how did you drawhimout?”

She blew into the phone. Static popped in my ear. “I’d wait,” she said. “Give him a while. Then I’d do something nice for him, and then we’d talk.”

I lay back and wondered, would it always be like this, Miles pulling away when I needed him most? Would it even be worth it, drawing him out? This was our first major bump as a couple, and Miles was pretending it didn’t exist.

“The party,” said Mom. “You could talk after that. He’ll have a few drinks in him, and you’ll be relaxed. You can take him home, talk to him, and I bet he’ll talk back.”

I’d halfway forgotten about my damn party, and part of me wanted to call it off. Celebrating my job felt ill-timed and callous. But Mom had gone to the trouble, and it was too late. She’d have to call all my friends, my uncles and aunts. Gram and Grandpa, as well, and Gram couldtalk. Mom would be stuck on the phone half the day.

“The party,” I said. “You think that’ll work?”

“It always did with your dad, once he’d had his time.”

I smiled, thinking back on Mom and Dad together. They’d been happy, from what I could tell. Maybe it all evened out over time, little hurts and annoyances balanced by good times. Like when I woke up to the smell of Miles cooking. Or when he cut his shower short to save me hot water. I could stand a few days of Miles shutting down if, when he felt better, we went back to that.

“The party,” I said. “All right. Fingers crossed.”

The day of the party, Miles had to work. He owed Jones, he said. He had to cover. But he’d be off by noon, so no problem, right? He’d take a nap and a shower, then he’d drop by.

I wanted to ask him, had he made his dessert? He’d promised to bring one. Was that still the plan? But I didn’t want to nag, with him talking again. Making eye contact once in a while. He wasn’t back to his old self, but he wasn’t as tense. Our last shift together had felt almost normal. At the party, we’d talk, and we’d get back on track.

I knew we’d be fine, but I picked up a pie. Not because I assumed Miles would forget, but… in case his shift ran long. In case he was late. If not, we’d have two desserts. Double the fun.

I texted himas I got ready —Getting dressed. Miles didn’t answer, but that was fine. He was probably driving, or in the shower. I snapped a pic of myself in my party dress — a cute, short red number Mom said made my curves pop — and tapped out another text:Me in my dress!But then I noticed a mark on my sleeve, a little black smudge from my eyeliner. I deleted the text and peeled off my dress, and put on a blue one with a sparkly layered skirt. By that time, it’d struck me a pic might beweird. Miles hadn’t touched me since before the fire. He hadn’t slept over or come out for a meal. Things would be normal soon, but they weren’t yet. I put my phone away and fixed my makeup, and by the time I had finished, it was time to go.

I walked to Mom’s house at it was so close, half-expecting to find Miles already there. He was early for most things, and I was running late. But his car wasn’t in the driveway, or parked in the street.

“Sophie!” Mom leaned out the door. “Hurry up and get in here! Your Gran needs a drink.”

I laughed, Miles forgotten, and hurried to meet her. “I brought pie.”

“From that place we like?” She opened the box, sniffed deep, and sighed. “Mm. I could live on this. Now, let me?—”

“Soph!” Gran came stomping out, Aunt Carol in tow, knocking flowers off the hall table with the frame of her walker. “We need margaritas. Come do the salt.”

I let them lead me into Mom’s bright little kitchen. Aunt Carol grabbed the blender while Gran sat down.

“Come sit, and tell me about this new man.” She peered over my shoulder like he might pop out. “Your mom says he’s wonderful. He bakes, is that true?”

“He cooksandhe bakes. He could be a chef.” I smiled, then my stomach turned at the sight of the clock. I hadn’t realized I wasthatlate, which meant Miles was later. Maybe he’d texted. I fished for my phone.

“Thereyou are!” Kate bounced in. “Jen, she’s in here!” She scanned the kitchen. “Hold up, where’s Miles?”

“Running late,” I said. “He had to work. I was just going to text him, but?—”

“Hey, Soph, Soph’s Gram.” Jen winked at Gran, who passed her a drink. They toasted to me, then to Miles. To us. I took a drink too, and drained half at a gulp. It gave me brain-freeze, and I rubbed my head.

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