Page 66 of Just a Distraction

“This is the best orange juice,” he says a few minutes later, grabbing the bottle and putting it in the cart. He pulls a funny face to make Callum laugh.

I snatch it out of the cart and put it back.

“It’s on the list,” he says, frowning at his phone. I’d texted it to him so that, theoretically, we could go in two separate routes and shorten the shopping time in two. We hadn’t wanted to part ways, though, and somehow, we just ended up going along the aisles side by side.

I prefer it this way.

“I buy the frozen concentrate,” I tell him. “It’s cheaper.”

“I sort of thought I could buy the groceries, since I’ve been hanging out at your place.”

“Milo, no. I got it.”

“But it’s only fair with how much I eat.”

I scrunch up my nose. “You do eat kind of a lot.”

It all feels like we’re a family. Like if I could wander the aisles of the Longdale grocery store with Milo for the rest of my life, I’d consider my life a massive success.

He shrugs. “Might as well take advantage of it while I can.”

I shake my head. “You have the metabolism of a god.” I pull him into my arms. I cannot get enough of his broad, hard muscles and clean, musky scent.

Somewhere in between walking through the automatic doors of this little grocery store and standing next to the marinated artichokes, I know exactly what I want.

My pulse jumps like the wick of a candle, illuminating the truth I’m pretending not to see.

I want Milo.

Chapter 26

Rose

Milo fell asleep on my sofa last night.

First of all, though, he fixed my faucet. I didn’t even realize he’d taken the wrench in there and next thing I knew, he was coming out of the bathroom, wrench in hand, making a casual remark about how the dripping should be fixed now.

I also discovered he’s a genius at building things. He figured out the crib in less than an hour. I stared at the assembly directions online, trying to sort them out, only to look up to see he was already three steps ahead of me.

It was hot. I like a man who can conjure things up with his hands.

The proudly independent single mom in me would be appalled with me right now. But she can keep her snippety opinions to herself.

After we assembled the crib, Milo fell asleep on the couch during our spontaneousLord of the Ringsmarathon. I did, too, in his arms. It was perfection. I’ve never felt so safe and simply normal before.

The ratcheting anxiousness that’s plagued me most of my life was just . . . gone. Nowhere to be found.

I think I left it with those marinated artichokes in aisle four. And it was replaced by bubbles in my stomach as he and I put the groceries away once we arrived back at my apartment. And when he pointed to the box of spaghetti and said, “Rose is an—” pointing to the words “American Beauty,” I laughed and rolled my eyes. But the truth is, the way he treats me is like a balm for my soul that I never knew I needed.

The bubbles inside of me continued as I heard the man sing a lullaby to my son. He sang. A. Lullaby. It was silly and funny, but he sang it so softly and gently that Callum snuggled up on his shoulder and was half asleep when Milo gently lowered him into bed.

It was a Thursday night, and we both had work in the morning. Nevertheless, we ignored responsible sleep hygiene and started the first movie in the trilogy. We were well into the second one when we drifted off. At some point in the middle of the night, I woke up, my neck aching and my heart pounding as I realized I’d fallen asleep. I eased a sleeping Milo into a prone position, put a cushion under his head, and covered him with an Afghan blanket. Begrudgingly, I tore myself away from his side and went to bed.

This morning, when I woke up, there was a note on the table from Milo. He could have easily texted me. But he didn’t. And his neat handwriting on several sticky notes—I do not have nicepaper like he does, so he had to improvise—is everything to me right now.

As are his eyes—sometimes soulful, sometimes dancing—the faces he pulls to make Callum laugh, and his broad shoulders and lanky body. All of it. All of him.

Dear Rose,

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