Page 76 of Atlas & Miles
A weight lifted from my heart. It was a small part of the whole, but it helped, just a little. “This doesn’t mean I don’t love you.”
Atlas scoffed. “Of course not; I know that. I love you, too, but you need to do this for you.” I heard him sniff, and it made my stomach ache. “Take care of yourself, Miles.”
I nodded though he couldn’t see it, my heart breaking yet again. It had to be a million shards clinking around in my chest by now. “Goodbye, Atlas.”
Then I hung up, slumped in my seat, and sobbed.
***
After my tears had dried and my face returned to a more normal color, I headed to Timbers & Tallboys, figuring being a little social would help me avoid fixating, and I’d never been one for social apps. That was one of the reasons I’d stayed inGomillion, right? To learn who I truly was once I’d conquered my fear of what people thought about me?
No time like the present.
I sidled up to the bar, ordered a specialty gin Mose was raving about—the guy seemed happier, lighter, maybe, which looked weird as fuck on the guy who could usually out-grump even me—and spun to survey the crowd as I sipped my drink.
Mose was right; this was delicious.
I didn’t recognize anyone in the crowd, but the bar was only about two-thirds full. It was still early; I supposed I could stay awhile. I needed to switch to water once I finished this to let the alcohol work its way through my system before I headed home, anyway.
After half an hour of people watching, I turned back to Mose to order a tall glass of water. Once I had it in hand and took a sip, I glanced down the bar to where a man who appeared to be a few years older than me sat four stools away. He looked friendly and had kind eyes, and I didn’t feel an ounce of attraction for him, so he would be a safe person to talk to without risking complicated feelings.
If I was ever going to make friends, I had to put myself out there. And what better time to do that than when both parties had a little liquid courage flowing through their veins?
Taking a fortifying breath, I pushed to my feet, walking down the bar in his direction. I motioned at the stool next to him. “This seat taken?”
Chapter twenty-four
Atlas
This was quite possibly the longest day ever. I mean, wewereclose to the first day of summer, technically the longest day of the year, though with the misty, sixty-degree weather in Seattle today, no one would be able to tell.
I’d taken a ride share from the airport to avoid having to interrupt Anson on Sunday, and I’d been so busy with everything at my new job—which I could see myself really enjoying but had a steep learning curve after being out of the industry for nearly a year—that I hadn’t had a chance to call him to catch up. But after that excruciating conversation with Miles, I needed a friend.
So I headed home a little early and gave Anson a call. He insisted on coming over as soon as he heard how heartbroken I was.
God, I’d missed him.
When he arrived at the front door of my swanky high-rise apartment, I led him to my new home’s mid-century modern leather davenport in white. It sat between a matching loveseat and two identical armchairs arranged in a U shape around alarge black leather ottoman. A plush Oriental rug grounded them in the middle of the massive great room.
To my left, a wall of tall windows overlooked the city and Elliott Bay, and behind me, floor-to-ceiling bookshelves covered the entire wall from the windows to the front door, which sat near the luxuriously appointed chef’s kitchen and large dining room. We settled in facing a wall-mounted entertainment center that rivaled most movie theaters, while a high-end, inset fireplace took up the wall to our left.
Anson listened as I told him everything I hadn’t shared during the few phone calls and video chats we’d had over the past month or two. I cried through most of it, and he’d offered an abundance of hugs and tissues alongside his commiserating exhalations and words of wisdom and consolation.
When I was done, he pulled me into his millionth hug of the night. “I missed you, boo.”
I smiled at one of my closest friends, realizing how true that was for me as well. “Fuck, I missed you, too.”
He eyed me. “But that pales in comparison to how much you miss Miles.” It wasn’t a question, because it was glaringly obvious to us both.
Tears leaked from my already swollen red eyes as I nodded. “Every inch of me misses him.” I sniffed, turning to look at my friend. “Did I make the wrong decision? Should I have stayed?”
Anson sighed. “It was an impossible decision. You would’ve resented him eventually if you’d stayed, by your own admission. That’s not a healthy way to start a long-term relationship, despite how much you love him.” He caught my gaze and held it. “We both know that love isn’t enough.”
I nodded, remembering some of his own story. Speaking of . . . “I can’t talk about this any longer—tell me all about you! What have I missed in the past six-ish months? How’s Nate?”
“We’ve been good.” If I hadn’t known any better, I would’ve said Anson’s smile was dreamy. Was he finally going to admit he was into Nate? He’d never said as much, but I’d seen them together. Anyone with eyes could see the gobs of sexual tension between the two of them.
Anson had long insisted nothing was going on between them, though I’d always suspected he’d have preferred there was. Nate was probably completely clueless. But I hoped they worked out; they were perfect for each other.
