Page 16

I’m getting whiplash. First by my body betraying me under his gaze. Then all it takes is for slight movement from the corner of his lip and I feel it in my chest. Now we’re back to grumpy Miles and it's making my stomach turn. I’m never going to survive this.

“So, how is this going to work? Am I going to be like Belle and be locked in my room for the next two months? It’s a lovely room, don't get me wrong, but if you want to convince people at your work that I’m really your wife, do I need to drop off your lunch or something?”

He walks around the counter until he stands only two inches in front of me. I hold my breath when he lifts his hand up to my neck. The thick pads of his fingers spark against my collarbone when he runs the chain of my necklace between his fingers. I suppress the urge to lean into his touch when he adjusts the gold clasp to the back.

“Something like that.” His words are soft and lazy when he drops his hand back to the counter. All I can do in this moment is pray to whoever will listen, that this man who makes a living off reading people, can’t see that I’ve completely stopped breathing. His eyes narrow in on my neck before he looks away and I remember that I’m here because I’ve made every choice with zero thought the last few days, and I need to get my head back on straight.

I straighten my spine and lift my chin. “Okay then. I’m heading to bed.” Internally I roll my eyes at how my breathy voice betrays my false confidence. I have to actively slow my pace as I head towards the stairs so Miles doesn’t think I’m trying to run away.

“Camila.” His voice startles me and I pause, slowly turning around to see his eyes studying me. “Don't stay locked up in your room.” He shakes his head as if he was going to say something else and I blink once before heading off to my room.

The sheets and duvet cover on my bed are tucked in tight along all the edges. When I slide in I feel like it’s giving me a comforting hug. The pillow is crisp and cool under my face and before the darkness consumes me, I’m left wondering how I’m supposed to get back to myself while living with a man who has me thinking and feeling things that are completely foreign to me.

Miles

“Okay,great, so McClellan will take the lead on that.” Samantha sits at the head of the conference room table, closing a binder of papers. “The last point I have for you this morning is if you have yet to get your tickets for the fundraiser gala next Saturday, please see Mark up at the front before you leave today.”

Jonas bumps my knee under the table and I snap my head towards him where he’s giving me thewhat the fuckeyes. I’ve been sitting in the world's most boring mid-week meeting for over an hour. That's not even fully true, I don't know if the meeting was boring or not. I have no idea what this meeting has been about because I haven't been able to stop thinking about my new house guest. Every time I try to tell myself to focus, it's because I’ve caught myself thinking about Camila and how she looked standing in my kitchen. I’m not surprised by my attraction to her, after all, it’s kind of what got me in this situation to begin with.

I am however surprised that I haven’t been able to stop thinking about her. When I slid that dainty chain across her neck last night, I’m positive she held her breath for a few seconds. I definitely shouldn't be thinking about her this way, since she’s living with me and that will only complicate things. But when I saw her mouth part like she wanted more from that touch, for a moment I wanted to give it to her. I imagined pulling her into me and crushing her lips with my own, holding her face with one hand while the other tangled in her hair. I could imagine her hands trailing down my stomach, her fingers sliding along my waistband. That touch would be enough to make me lift her up by her ass, her legs wrapping around my waist, arms around my neck as I walked her back to the couch without breaking the kiss. And then I remembered the line:Get shit done but never cross the line.

Everyone else has filed out of the room except Sam who is still sitting at the head of the table. I gather my things and head towards the door. I get one foot in the hallway before her commanding voice stops me. “Miles.” I turn to face her. “I look forward to meeting your wife at the fundraiser next weekend.” I give one nod before passing a slack-jawed Jonas on my way back to my office.

I can feel Jonas hot on my heels as we enter my office.

“Okay so… do you want to tell me why Samantha thinks that my best friend of sixteen years is married, or should I start the amputation now? Because let me tell you, on the list of things I had planned today, giving up my left nut would have been on that list before finding out you weremarried?”

I open my laptop and begin pulling up files. “I need you to send me the notes from the meeting,” I say, ignoring his question.

His eyes widen as he looks at me like I’ve grown a second head. “One, I didn't take notes. And two, are you going to answer my question?”

“I might have zoned out, but I saw you typing the whole time.”

Jonas digs the palms of his hands so far into his eyes that if I had the energy to

spare, I might be concerned for him. “I was typing out the lyrics to a Pearl Jam song, asshole. I didn't want to look likeyouand be completely obvious I wasn't paying attention.” He throws his hands in the air. “Now dude..talk!”

The thing about Jonas is he might be a pretty, party boy, but when your ass is shoved in a corner, he’s the only guy I would trust to be by my side.

Thinking backto the summer before I started high school, I can remember running home, in the hot afternoon sun. I was flying up the stairs, taking the steps two at a time up to my room. I stopped in the doorway when I found my mom packing. Not that her packing was unusual, my dad traveled a lot for baseball, but she was packing my things. When I asked what was going on she said we were leaving and staying with my Aunt Grace for a while. I could tell my mom was upset, and we had always been close so I knew I could have asked at the time, but she seemed so hurt, beyond talking. So I silently started packing my things alongside her. We left that night and never went back. She later explained that she and my father would be getting a divorce, but that when he was home I was more than welcome to spend time with him, which I did. It wasn't until the following summer I found out they had gotten a divorce because my father had been cheating on her. I refused to see him after that. I resented him and even if my mother could forgive him, I couldn’t.

By the time I got to law school, my mom was battling her second bout of breast cancer and wasn't doing well. I would fly home on the weekends that I could and we were lucky enough that my aunt was around to help out as well. My dad reached out a few times, but I never answered. Though I know my mom talked to him, I later found out he was the one paying for her medical treatments. But I still had no desire to have any kind of relationship with him. I was angry that my beautiful mother with the kindest heart was suffering while this asshole got to live a long healthy life with his new wife.

My father always engrained the mentality “do whatever it takes to be the best” in me. When I was younger I wanted to be the best to make him proud, As I got older I wanted to be the best to shove it in his face that I got here without him. That he couldn’t claim any of my greatness. He had to watch me become successful and know that he had no part in any of it. But the worse my mom got, the more I struggled. I began suffering in my classes, I pushed the one friend I ever cared about away. I was antisocial in a small class where making connections was everything, and I was drowning.

My mother’s funeral was a blur, I don't remember much, except there was a lot of food that no one really ate. And Jonas. I’m still not sure to this day how he found out about my mother or the funeral because I definitely didn't tell him, in fact, I had been a real dick to him a few weeks before, more so than usual. But he showed up. He showed up for me when I needed someone more than I knew. He embraced me in a silent hug, and we’ve been best friends ever since.

So I close my laptop and recount the story of what happened last weekend. From Sam finding out the next day to how I conned Camila into thinking this was for her benefit. And since Iwas laying it all out there already, I told him about last night too. I don't know why, maybe I was hoping he would be able to give me some clarity, or a pep talk. But instead, he blew out a long breath, sank back into the couch putting his arms behind his head and with the biggest smile his face could handle, he said, “Oh. You aresofucked.”

Camila

My first night here was…weird.I’m not necessarily uncomfortable, which is surprising but the whole situation is just not normal. I don't think either of us was quite prepared for how to act. The past few nights I’ve had dinner with Rosa—although she doesn’t actually eat with me. So really I’ve been eating alone and I’ve been in bed before Miles gets home. Tonight I’m determined to stay up as late as I need to in order to see him. I have to believe that if we can just find some common ground, maybe we could build some kind of friendship and it will make everything less awkward.

I can’t even use his house as a way to learn anything about him, aside from the fact that he has palm frond paintings in every room even though he seems to not care for them very much. He either doesn't have any personal items or he keeps them all in his room or his home office. I’ve made a mental note of the intense coffee setup he has in the kitchen and judging by the pair of sneakers I’ve seen by the door I’m assuming he does some kind of workout in the mornings before he goes into the office. Other than that, everything about him is still a complete mystery to me.

While Miles is at work,being successful,I’ve spent the last few days staring at my computer, willing it to show me a job worthy of telling my parents about. But also one that I won’t completely hate. And every day it’s the same routine—after a few hours of staring, I always find myself giving up and scrolling through some of my favorite artists' social media.

Tonight I’m curled up on the couch, scrolling through some local street artist page I just found, when I look up to find Miles coming out of the elevator.