Page 72 of Just a Distraction

“So?” I say impatiently. “Are you caught up or would talking about it give you spoilers?”

He pauses. “I’m caught up, yes.” Something in his voice seems off, though.

“Are you sure?” I ask with a bit of a laugh.

“Yes. I’ve read it. What are your thoughts?”

I squeal and clap my hands together. “Can you believe what happened with Zehma? I’m glad the torture wasn’t explicitly described because ever since I had Callum, my tolerance for violence has gone way down.”

“Yeah, I’m not a fan of explicit violence, either,” he says. “What did you think of Balthor’s big speech?”

“The rallying cry? Powerful. And the way Zehma could hear it from the room she was being held in? And the tears dissolving the ropes that had her bound? I didn’t see that coming.”

“Right?” He smiles at me but quickly turns his attention back to the road.

We talk about the plot ofZehmathe rest of the drive, but by the time we’re seated in the restaurant, Milo changes the subject. He asks me how work is going and after I answer and ask about his, he stills.

“I feel more comfortable in my job,” he says.

“That’s good. But that doesn’t mean it has to be forever.”

“There are other things, other thoughts for the future,” he says. “But I’m content for now.”

“Do you feel like those mice in The Muppet’s Christmas Carol?”

The way his face falls has me backpedaling.

“I didn’t mean to make your work sound menial, or—”

“No, it’s cool.” He sings a line from the movie. “‘I am an island in the sun!’” He grins and then adds, “And Sebastian totally works as Scrooge.”

But there’s something in his eyes that doesn’t feel exactly genuine.

“There’s something you’re not telling me,” I say.

“What do you mean?”

I eye him carefully. “I remember sensing, the night we met, that you’d rather be doing something else. And I’m getting that feeling now, too.” And I can’t help the feeling of low-key panic that surfaces because I can’t tolerate people hiding things from me. It feels dishonest.

Which doesn’t make sense. This is his deal. It’s not about me. That doesn’t mean my head doesn’t start throbbing.

“It’s fine,” he says. “Catching glimpses of you throughout the day, going over to your place after a long day? I’m all good.”

“What would you rather be doing? If you could have any job in the world?”

He stares at me. “World explorer. Superhero. Firefighter. Just to name a few.”

My first instinct is to thinkReal mature, Milo. But for some reason, it doesn’t seem immature when he says it. It seems playful, yes. But also, strangelymature. Like he knows what he wants and isn’t afraid to say it.

When I smile, he sighs. “It’s not like I can’t be happy working for Sebastian. I know I can. I think it’s just going to take some time to get used to it.”

“Choosing a career that’s fulfilling is important, though.”

“Like you and nursing.”

“Yes.”

The waiter arrives and takes our orders. I order a yellow curry. Milo orders sweet and sour chicken, beef and broccoli, and cream cheese rangoons.

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