Page 19 of That Right Moment

And here I was, alone in my bachelor pad, trying to figure out how to make my best friend smile again.

“Milo?” she finally said with a sniffle.

I was pulled back to reality, realizing I was silent for longer than I thought.

“Maddy…” was all I could muster to speak.

“It’s okay. I mean”—she let out a loud groan—“I was an idiot to not see it.” She sniffed.

“See what?” I asked. “From what I saw you two were”—I choked—“in love.” I rolled my eyes and rubbed my forehead, thank goodness Madeline couldn’t see what I was doing.

I heard a breath. “Me too, but apparently not.”

I glanced at my watch. It wasn’t too late. “What are you doing right now?”

“Nothing,” she mumbled.

“I know you, and I've seen you go through a breakup before. I bet you fifty bucks you are sitting in bed with the covers right up to your chin, a carton—not a bowl—of ice cream next to you, and a book on your chest. How much money do you owe me?” I asked.

She heaved a sigh. “Fifty bucks.”

“What book are you reading?”

“Well I was reading Kristin Hannah, but I switched to Colleen Hoover.”

“Put Colleen Hoover down and get dressed. I’m coming to get you.”

“Milo, no—you just got off a twelve-hour shift. You don’t need to come over,” she trailed on. “I just needed to tell you what happened so you didn’t think I was avoiding telling you the alternative.”

I scoffed, raising my eyebrows.Marriagewas the alternative. I was happier about the breakup.

“Normally, I would have Ophelia here, but since she's in New York and not coming for a few more months, it’s up to you to listen to all my woes over the phone. She’s busy anyway.”

“Or I can come get you,” I suggested again.

I heard her lips smack, and her voice was different—a mouth full of ice cream. “No…” She swallowed. “No, no…”

“I’ll be there soon. Stay in your pajamas if you must. I have a key.” I hung up the phone before she even had another chance to protest. I vaguely heard her scream my name.

Fifteen minutes later, I burst through her bedroom door. Niko lay on the edge, slowly lifting his head, his tail pounding on the comforter. Once he noticed it was me, he let out a grumble and lay his head back down. I narrowed my eyes at him.

“Did he not hear me come in?” I asked, pointing at the dog.

Madeline, as I suspected, was in the exact position I described on the phone, the Breyer’s ice cream carton half full. Her auburn hair was in braids that ran down her shoulders, and her floral comforter was literally up to her chin. She locked eyes with me and then turtled her way into the comforter some more.

“You gonna get up?” I asked, nodding my head toward the front door.

She shook her head and slunk down in the bed more. The blue book lay closed next to her, pushed off to the side.

“At least you put the book down,” I said, slowly making my way to the bed, sitting on the edge next to her.

“You bought that one for me,” she mumbled under the blanket.

I grabbed the book and looked at the cover. I remembered her telling me she read one book by Colleen Hoover, and then I started getting her the others, not entirely sure which one she read that made her like the viral author.

“Is it good?”

She shrugged. “I’ve been on the same chapter since Saturday.”

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