Page 33 of Just a Distraction

But enough about me and my parts! The last thing I want to do is be a creep about it all.So,secondly, we could play a game. Would you like to guess my middle name? Sorry, but your first three guesses are incorrect. But I like where your head’s at and welcome any and all guesses.

I do work here at Tate International—Longdale Lake location. Sebastian Tate is my brother. You’ve probably heardof him. He’s the Type A guy skulking around nickel and diming everyone and everything. He’s usually scowling.

I work for him as an independent contractor managing the company’s employee reimbursements and rewards program worldwide. It’s a little tedious. Thankfully, I have my brothers and my hobbies, like writing, that add some fun to my life.

But enough about me. I’d like to hear everything about you. Some possible topics of discussion, if you’re so inclined to write me back, could include such things as: What brought you to Longdale? How do you like the job? And how do you recommend someone getting the image of those beautiful hazel eyes of yours out of their head, because I’ve had a bit of bad luck in trying to do that these past few months.

Oh, and one more: If I were to rustle up some pasta carbonara from Casa del Cibo, would you help me eat it?

Milo Kumquat Tate

P.S. Oops! Did I accidentally spill my secret middle name?

P.P.S. Tsk. Tsk. Still no mention of the ice-cream cone thing?

Kumquat? Ha!

I sigh and do that thing they do in rom-coms. I lean up against the wall, close my eyes, place the letter over my heart, and whimper.

It’s quick and soft, but it’s definitely a whimper.

I’m a tough chick. I don’t do this. I certainly never whimpered over anything Blaine ever said or did. But here I am, going gaga over a simple letter.

A well-written, grammatically sound letter with legible handwriting. Something special. Something deliberate. From a handsome, dashing, exciting man.

And I let myself. For exactly thirty seconds, I let myself dream that he’s actually asking me out, wanting to eat food with me, that it would be a date, and he and I could keep going out and fall in love. That he’d fall in love with Callum and be the daddymy little boy deserves. That because it’s suddenly some alternate universe where a Hawkins woman actually finds love—real, stable, nourishing love that lasts—I dream. For thirty seconds.

And then it’s over, because I leave the office to check in on our staff throughout the building and that’s when I see Darla, my ex’s mother, arguing with someone outside of the childcare room.

Darla?

Silly me for pretending that things are ever going to be different for me.

Chapter 13

Milo

I can’t hide my disappointment after I go the whole day and the next without a notification from interoffice mail.

It’s just as well. Rose is probably busy with work, working harder than I am. Honestly, I get that. I can’t expect her to take time out of her busy workday to respond to me. Still, I feel the absence of it deep within me.

Which isn’t good. She’s been clear that we can’t date.

It’s not until I’m back at Tate on Monday morning that I get the alert saying I have mail. This time, I don’t go running down there. I manage to wait a whole twenty minutes before standing to stretch, talking out loud telling myself that I really should be taking better care of myself and stretch my legs more often, and then stealing down the stairs and around the corner.

Not only do I run into Sebastian on my way but also our brother Henry and two of the people on my team. All of them give me a look like, “Are you okay?” They can probably see the ferocious speed and the look of sheer urgency on my face.

I don’t let it deter me. I grab the envelope—it looks much like the first one did—and hightail it back to the safety of my office. Door closed, I rip it open.

Milo,

I apologize for the delay in writing you back. It’s been a wild few days. Have I ever told you that sometimes my life resembles a blender cup full of craziness?

Now I’m starting to sound like one of those people who wear the badge of busyness like a prize they’ve won. That somehow I think my problems just simply have to take precedence over anyone else’s because no one is as busy or as spread thin as I am. Which is . . . ewww.

I laugh.

The truth is, like I said before, my life really isn’t conducive to dating. I just can’t do it, for a multitude of very boring, all too common reasons.

---