Page 107 of Sweet Caroline
I laugh again. “You’re one to talk, with all youroh dangsand, y’know, getting me hard just by existing and shit.”
Biting her lip, she runs her fingers through my hair, and I drop my forehead to her sternum, kissing her between her breasts through her T-shirt. She rests her arms lazily over my shoulders, and I lift my head.
As I smile up at her, two truths hit me at the same time: I’m deeply, painfully, irreparably in love with this woman… and losing her is gonna hurt like hell.
21
CAROLINE
I’m unpacking a shipment of art supplies for the paint-and-sip night I’ve got planned at the gallery when Miles pulls open the front door, and I can’t help the way my entire body lights up when I see him. And I need light. Election Day has felt nothing but heavy so far.
“Hey,” he says, holding up a plastic bag. “I know it’s not your break time yet, but I grabbed you lunch from the deli.”
“Aw, thank you,” I say, closing the distance between us before I push up on my toes to kiss his cheek.
I’d woken up to my period this morning, unsure whether the dull ache in my belly was cramps or dread. Likely both. Miles had been so sweet when I told him and rubbed my lower back as I curled up in the fetal position, waiting for the painkiller to kick in.
We’d voted before the sun came up, swinging by the ballot drop box before Miles started work. With only the faintest orange glow over the mountains across Black Bear River, it had felt almost clandestine and yet somehow so anticlimactic. We could have waited to mark Election Day by casting our votes in person, of course, but I’d shied away from any chance of facing the mediaat a voting center. I’d wanted to be alone with Miles one last time—and wanted privacy when I, for the first time in my adult life, saw my dad’s name on the ballot and left the little circle beside it blank. As acts of rebellion go, it’s minuscule, but it felt symbolic. I’m trying new things—like supporting politicians who’ve earned my trust rather than broken it.
Miles hands me the bag, squeezing my fingers in a way I know means he’d show me more affection if I wasn’t at work. “Figured you could put it in the fridge for a couple hours?”
I peer inside, catching a glimpse of something that looks like dark chocolate beside the wrapped sandwich.
“Got you a cookie too. Chocolate’s good for period time, right?” He cups my jaw, brushing his thumb over my cheek.
“It’s perfect.”
His sweet gesture would be swoon-worthy if it wasn’t a painful reminder that today’s our last day together.
My heart heavy and raw, I search his eyes for reassurance and finger the edge of his hi-vis vest. “You still okay to come with me tonight?”
He draws back a bit, like the answer should be obvious. “Of course.”
Election results at Pete Brennan headquarters. Our final photo op together. My throat tightens at the thought.
“Caroline, darling?” Sunny’s voice wrenches me back to the present, and I turn just as she rounds the corner into the main gallery space, trying to hide the way my stomach sinks when I feel Miles put some space between us. Sunny pulls her reading glasses down from her hair to peer at the open binder in her hands. “We need to finalize the table arrangement for tomorrow night. We’ve got an odd number of registrations, so we’ll have to stagger the—” She stops short when she finally looks up and sees Miles. “Oh! It’s you again.”
Sunny’s observation is neutral enough, but my expression issomewhat pinched as I send her a silent plea not to go on about the noise or the service interruptions this time—as if Miles is personally responsible for any of that.
“Yeah, hi,” he says. “I was actually just taking off.”
I spin to face him, sure the disappointment is written all over my face. “Already?”
“Yeah.” He shoots me an easy smile that I know is covering up something neither of us want to face in front of Sunny.
He’s already pulling away from me.
“Gotta get back to work.” He squeezes my hand again. “See you later, okay?”
I nod, my gaze lingering on his back as he pushes out the door and jogs across the street.
When Miles disappears from sight, a surge of anguish lurches up and there’s a burning feeling behind my eyes. I take a deep breath, reminding myself that my hormones are amplifying everything.
Needing a moment to collect myself, I make my excuses to Sunny and go to put the sandwich in the office fridge.
Last night, while Miles was out at an AA meeting, I’d talked with Adrian for over an hour on the phone. We’d been well overdue for an epic heart-to-heart and, given everything that’s gone down in the past week or so, there was plenty of material to cover. By some miracle, my name had—for once—stayed out of the news coverage that followed the Sonora Farm fire. I suppose it was thanks to the darkness and general mayhem that I’d escaped notice, but it meant having to drop a bomb on Adrian. Unfortunately, it was only one of two.
He took the news about Dad withdrawing the donation about as well as learning I’d been caught in a burning building. And, as if that wasn’t enough heavy reality for one conversation, I told him about what happened afterward: Miles’ panicked vulnerability. The shift between us. The way we’ve barely left each other’s sides since.Explaining it all—and admitting how hard I’ve fallen for Miles—had me in tears. I know I have no business feeling disappointed that this thing is ending, but my heart is breaking all the same.
