Page 99 of The Rehoboth Retreat
“That’s not funny.”
“Alittlefunny,” I countered.
He turned away, but I saw the corner of his mouth twitch. A battle of wills was happening on that perfectly symmetrical face, and I was betting on the chaos gremlin winning.
“Miles,” I said more gently, stepping beside him again. “Look, I get it. This—” I waved at the air, “—this whole thing? It’s not your usual scene. But maybe that’s a good thing. Maybe the whole point is to go off-script once in a while. To feel messy. Loud. Unplanned. Alive.”
He looked at me for a long time.
Then: “You do realize I’d be photographed the moment we step foot inside, especially with you,” he said.
I shrugged. “And? What are they gonna say?Miles Whitaker goes dancing with Hudson Knight and shirtless gays post-divorce? Sounds like healing to me.”
“You are infuriating.”
“And you are delicious when you’re flustered. Which, by the way, is always.”
He exhaled through his nose and walked over to the fridge to refill his glass of chilled rosé. I waited. Patient. Smug. Just the right amount of annoying.
He sipped.
Then sighed.
Then—finally—he looked at me with a spark of surrender behind his eyes.
“Fine,” he said. “But we’re leaving before 10:30 PM.”
I cackled. Actuallycackled. “Oh, sweetie. Absolutely not. No one even arrives before eleven.”
“Eleven?!” he gasped.
“Yes. That’s when it gets packed and turned into a real summer dance party. It’s a whole thing.”
“Eleven islate.”
“Eleven is when the gays rise like nocturnal glitter demons. You’ll survive. I’ll even protect you from getting humped by a Chad in mesh.”
He groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “This is a mistake.”
“Maybe,” I said, already plotting in my head the most obnoxiously sequined shirt I owned. “But it’ll be the hottest mistake you’ve ever made.”
He shook his head, muttering something about poor decisions and bad influences, but I caught the ghost of a smile flicker behind his glass as he turned back toward the sink.
And in that moment, I knew I had him.
Miles Whitaker, Gay Martha Stewart, was going to Diego’s.
Saint Judy Garland, watch over us.
Miles
The second we pulled up to Diego’s, I knew I had made a mistake.
Or rather—I knew I had madeanothermistake.
The first was saying yes to Hudson Knight.
The second was letting him anywhere near my calendar.
