Page 15 of The Loves We Lost
It’s swiftly followed by disappointment when I see her seat is occupied by a person I don’t know. She appears to be explaining something to the first few people in the line, and all of them are nodding in understanding.
Shit.
She isn’t coming.
Letting out a breath, I turn to head back toward Halo only to collide with a small frame I recognize immediately. Hazel eyes flecked with gold that always told me everything I ever needed to know look up at me. Her hair is a little shorter than it used to be, but it’s still long. Used to tell her I liked to fist it while fucking her from behind, but the truth was, I loved spooning her at night even more, letting the scent of her hair soothe away the roughness of the day.
This life offers little that is soft. And Viola is even softer in my arms than I remembered.
“Miles,” she gasps.
6
VIOLA
“Viola,” Miles says as he steadies me.
I grip his forearms as my bag slides off my shoulder and the pile of shit I was juggling falls to the floor. Sharpies, a box of cash for change, my electronic payment device, and a packet of mint gum clatter by my feet.
My breath leaves my body. I feel like my spirit and my will to live swiftly follow.
“You can’t be here,” I whisper, hoping my eyes aren’t being their usual too-expressive selves. Because seeing him here is transporting me back to a time and a person I’ve tried to forget.
“Public building. Walked right in,” he says, and I try not to watch his full lips move as he speaks. I always used to say it was unfair he got such a perfect pout. He’d tell me they were all the better to kiss me with.
They were once.
His piercing blue eyes tell me absolutely nothing.
“Why are you here?”
He tips his chin towards my large signing banner that has Fortune’s book on it. “Better question might be why areyouhere, touting our story to the world?”
Shit. He’s read the book. Or at least knows about it. Without thinking, I grab for the letterAon my necklace and worry it. My dad bought it for me when I gave birth to Avery. He’d bought my mom one when I was born with a letterVon it. We match.
As I slide the ring of the pendant back and forth on the chain, I consider what else Miles might know.
I lean my head around him, and I can see a number of readers lined up and Louise already seated at my table. I had all my books and pre-orders shipped here, and it looks like she arranged them for me.
“I can’t do this right now.”
“How very on brand,” he says.
“Miles,” I say as wave after wave of emotion batters me.
He looks good. Better than any man has a right to. He was handsome when I met him eight years ago, when he swept me off my feet with a grin and his dimples. But that was all baby-faced compared to the man he’s become. Sharp cheekbones are now chiseled to a level of perfection that should be illegal. His jaw begs me to plant a row of kisses along it like I used to. He’s more muscular than I remember, filled out in that way men tend to.
“I need to talk to you.” His words are curt. They cut through all the hyping up I gave myself in the bathroom mirror ten minutes ago. I always feel nervous in front of so many people, and usually playing “New Born” by Muse is enough to get me in the mood ... especially when the guitar solo kicks in. It helps me step into my alter ego, Vi.
But with Miles’s hands still holding my arms, I’m back to Viola. The one who, at the tender age of nineteen, was getting pulled in a direction I knew I didn’t want to go.
“I can’t do this now. People are waiting for me, and they are watching. This is my career. This, for all its fun, is my place of work. So for my sake, please can you at least stop looking at me like you’re about to kill me?” I manage to say.
“Like this?” he says and smiles.
When he does as I ask, it’s almost worse. There was a time when that smile would have gotten him anything he wanted from me. Before I found my backbone to decide what I wanted for myself.
But his grin doesn’t reach his eyes. I can see the hint of steel and sneer. His dimples don’t pop like they do—did when he was truly happy.
