Page 140 of Messy Strokes (Wrecked Roommates)

“You go on ahead. I’m going to grab some Tylenol or something. I don’t want you to be late.”

“We have time––”

“Dude. I don’t want you to be late. Go.” I push him toward the door. “I’ll be right behind you.”

“You sure?”

“Pretty sure I can buckle Penny into the car,” I tease, barely holding back my tears.

He chuckles softly and leans closer, kissing my forehead. “I’ll see you there, yeah?”

I nod, practically choking on my emotion. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

36

Maddie

My jaw tightens as I open the Find My Friends app Milo downloaded not so long ago, hating myself more than ever. I hover my thumb over the delete button while a fresh wave of hate and self-loathing assaults me.

Am I really doing this?

Am I actually going to betray him like this?

Again?

Even if it’s to protect him?

Digging my teeth into the side of my cheek, I weigh the endless list of pros and cons and toss my phone onto the passenger seat beside me. I hit the gas pedal a little harder and drive past the restaurant where I know Marty’s anxiously waiting.

But I can’t do it.

I can’t sit through a fake dinner with a potentially fake grandfather and a very fake baby daddy who will never be Penny’s father no matter what her genetics are.

Will it blow up in Milo’s face if I don’t go? Will Marty tear apart everything I know and love because I didn’t listen? Because I finally grew a backbone?

Honestly, I don’t know.

And it’s terrifying.

I tap my thumb against the steering wheel, my gaze flicking to the rearview mirror as the restaurant shrinks further into the distance.

One thing is certain. I won’t lie anymore. Not to Donny Hayes. And definitely not to Milo Anders.

He deserves so much more from me.

* * *

A few minutes later,I pull into the parking lot at the gallery, second-guessing every single decision I’ve ever made––along with the ones I’m currently making––and release a slow breath, surprised at how full it is already. It’s packed.

Chewing on the inside of my cheek, I find a space in the corner and pull in before getting Penny and her car seat from the back seat.

After wiping my sweaty palms against my dress, we make our way toward the entrance where my mom and dad are standing, waiting for me.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Mom greets me.

“Hi.”

“Milo’s already inside. The curator was anxious to get him in front of his piece. Apparently, he already has a few interested buyers.”

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