Page 57 of Just a Distraction

Unless I can change that.

“Okay. Whatever. Doesn’t seem like anyone should be dating anyone casually if they have a kid.”

“Well, it’s my choice, so . . .” My hands grip the steering wheel as I drive through the town center of Longdale, forcing myself to keep to the speed limit.

“I’ve seen a lot. And I’m sorry I even have to say anything. Also? You’d better tell her about Gloria because if the family meets her—what’s her name?”

I sigh, a bitter taste gathering in my mouth. “Rose,” I mutter through my teeth.

“If the family meets Rose. . .” There’s a smile in his voice as he repeats her name. “They might say something about Gloria and then you’d have a lot of explaining to do. I’ve learned the hard way that being open about stuff is the only way to go.”

“Thanks, expert on all things love.” I laugh at my own joke. “I’ve explained my family’s grand assumptions all those months ago. Don’t worry. It’s not going to be an issue.”

Henry starts laughing. And as uncharacteristic as it is, I can’t help joining in a little bit, too. Seeing Henry happy now, when times were so dark for him in the past, makes me happy, too.

“Shouldn’t you be home with Quinn and Navie? I’m sure Petra could use a walk.”

“I am home with them. Sebastian texted me to ask about you and your mystery woman.”

“Well, you can just tell him if he has questions, he needs to ask me directly. Please give me that, Henry.”

“Okay, okay.”

When he starts laughing again, I balk.

“What’s so funny?”

“I just figured it out. Rose is Gloria.”

Chapter 23

Rose

I don’t get another letter from Milo on Thursday or Friday. There’s a big corporate event where a lot of people in management from different locations have flown in, and he mentioned he’d be busy with that. Still, a lonesome longing wells in my chest. It comes and goes throughout the day. And every time I leave my desk and walk past the HR room with the mailboxes, it comes surging back again.

We’ve started to text, though, which is fun in and of itself. Sometimes flirtatious. Sometimes goofy and casual. And sometimes we message back and forth about our favorite fantasy series. And when he asks how Callum is doing, I send him a selfie with him that I took this morning with the caption ofTwinners! Barbecue Dads Unite!

Yes, I looked like a Barbecue Dad with my flannel and my belted, acid washed jeans. I needed to go grab some diapers from the store and threw on the only clean, non-work outfit I could find. So I happened to look like a man flipping burgers in my backyard and thought it was funny. Next thing I know, I’ve got Callum in his too-big jeans and flannel, too.

I pull up the selfie again and marvel at how perfect my little boy is. His chubby cheeks, his bright brown eyes, and long lashes. His row of white, crooked, baby teeth.

It feels so good having him here in the same building with me. Knowing I can pop in whenever I get a little break, even just to check on him when he doesn’t know I’m there, fills me with a level of peace and stability that I haven’t really felt most of my life.

How lucky am I? I’ve got a good, stable, full-time position with benefits and free childcare in the most gorgeous mountains—one that, with any luck, will help me save up some money for nursing school. I have a beautiful, charming, and intelligent son. And I have Milo.

But what is Milo to me, exactly?

Milo: an intensely interesting and fun, yet temporary, distraction.

There. That’s what he is. A distraction from the heaviness of life. A person who loves spending time with my son and who is a strong, positive role model for him. I know Callum is still really young, and I was hesitant to introduce them, but Milo’s goodness is going to have an impact on him. I know it.

Liking Milo feels like a delightful treat.

Except it’s weird to call Milo a “treat” or a “snack.” I guess it’s sexist, even if I never say it aloud. I don’t mean it to be, and I see him as much more than that. I do. He’s got a depth that surprises me. He’s real and honest. He’s intelligent, both emotionally and in the classic sense.

Saying I’m drawn to him is like saying that outer space is big. Like,duh!I miss him throughout the day while we’re both working. If I happen to catch a lucky glimpse of him, we make eye contact from across the room and stare at each other like we’re keeping the world’s best, most delightful little secret.

And I smell his scent of clean, bright, spicy cologne in the air when he’s not around. I remember the taste of his lips in the emergency room all those months ago, and it gives me those tingly sparks of joy—like that moment you see a rainbow. Surprise and wonder. Or like opening a new jar of peanut butter and slicing your knife through the creaminess for the first time.

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