Page 38 of Milo
I stand for a long minute while the line of runners surges past me and then I’m alone with Cora, her warmth solid against my stomach and chest. I smile down at her. “Well, there he goes.Uncle Niall’s running again. The silly man. Like Forrest Gump with very nice hair and sarcasm.”
She gives me a wide, gummy grin, her brown eyes warm and alert under the shadow of her hat. One tiny fist in a pink mitten gets out of the sling and she bats me happily. I catch her hand and kiss it. “I’m going to get a drink and then we’ll have a walk, baby girl.”
There’s a clearing next to the run which is full of brightly coloured trailers selling everything from prosecco to artisan pastries. The air is filled with the smell of savoury things cooking, and I inhale appreciatively. I’m hungry again despite the muffin earlier. I queue, acknowledging compliments about Cora which she accepts with the ease of a small ruler of a kingdom. Finally, with a cup of hot chocolate and an iced cinnamon bun that’s as big as my head, I amble along the spectator’s path.
I actually like this sort of thing. I’ve been to some of Niall’s runs before. He’s been doing them since he was a teenager. However, they’re usually very focused and all about finishing times. This is much more fun with an air of jollity about it. Groups run together with the faster people stopping and waiting for their friends. People of all sizes and ages run along happily. There seems to be more of an emphasis on completing the course rather than competing.
Eventually I settle at the water jump. A stand is set up alongside a large pond and a very loud man is hailing the runners as they hover, waiting to jump. I look at the water and wince. It looks bloody freezing and it must be, as one of the announcers at the beginning was adamant that anyone who wanted to do the course twice wasn’t allowed to do the water bits again or they could get hypothermia.
I finish my bun and juggle Cora, cupping my hands over her cheeks to warm her as I watch people encouraging the reluctantjumpers. I’d be reluctant too, I think, watching them gasp as they pop to the surface like corks in a bath. In fact, they’d need a cattle prod to get me off that platform.
I join in with the crowd around as we count down and cheer the hesitant people, watching as they pull themselves out and stop to hug their watching families and chat as if they’re at a garden party.
It takes me a second to see Niall but suddenly he’s there, standing next to an older woman, and he’s all I can see. He’s filthy dirty, his hair is wet, and mud streaks his face and arms and legs, but he has a grin similar to what I imagine a marauding pirate would have and he radiates happiness.
The woman hesitates despite everyone’s shouted encouragement, but Niall moves near and speaks to her. She listens and nods and finally they turn, and we all shout as hand in hand they jump. They bob up gasping, and in Niall’s case laughing, and the woman blows him a kiss. He grins and swims for the shore and pulls himself up in one powerful movement.
Once out, he hesitates, looking around the crowd. I see the exact moment that he spots me because he jerks and stands staring at me.
“Good work,” I say heartily and he grins, saying nothing but pacing towards me. I gulp as he gets to us and, holding my shoulders tight, he bends his head to drop a kiss on Cora’s face. She laughs and holds her arms out to him, but I swallow hard. His scent is made up of grass, wet earth, and light sweat, and I inhale, trying to draw it into me to keep.
He straightens with his hands still holding me close, and before I can say anything, he drops his head and kisses me. It’s a chaste kiss, with a nod to our surroundings, but his lips are warm and I catch the faint taste of peppermint. I gasp and he kisses me again, and everything fades away for a second apart from the realization that this is Niall kissingme.
We’re brought back to reality when a wry voice with a strong Irish brogue says next to me, “You two had better not be crushing my baby.”
We break apart, and Silas and Oz are standing there grinning. They rush forward, intent on getting to Cora who wriggles energetically when she sees their faces, but I stand still watching Niall who’s looking at me with a slightly sheepish look. I can’t help noticing, however, that it’s mixed with a lot of determination, and I swallow hard.
Chapter
Eight
Are you acuddler?
Milo
After a few hugs Niall jogs off to finish the run. Silas, carrying Cora, walks beside Oz and me, all of us carrying the fresh coffee they’d brought with them.
“So?” Oz begins.
I immediately shake my head. “No. Not a chance.”
“Milo,” he says in a pseudo-shocked voice. “We’ve been friends for most of our lives, and this is how you repay my care and devotion?”
“We’ve been friends for two years,” I say levelly. “And in that short time, you’ve given me snark and tough love.”
He links his arm with mine companionably. “You say potato. I say potarto.”
“No, you don’t.”
“Stop being so literal.” He shakes his head. “You have to tell me.”
“Nope.”
“But … but I’ll never sleep tonight if I don’t know. Silas, tell him.”
Silas smiles at me, his handsome face warm and familiar. “Leave him alone, Oz. He’ll tell you when he’s ready.”
Oz shakes his head again. “So bloody reasonable.”
