Page 27

Mila

They’d stayed at the diner hours after the meal was over. Mila decided to leave the rest of the baked goods at The Pack House to appease Jesse. He’d actually snarled when Mikey tried to take a cookie out of one of the boxes. It made everyone except Mikey laugh.

On top of meeting so many new people, she had more names and numbers in her cell phone. It felt like an accomplishment! She had so many contacts from San Diego that they rivaled her South Dakota numbers.

Her phone chimed with a text. She expected to see something from Maddy. That woman was as big a texter as Rissa!

It was an unknown number.

You need to call me now. It’s important!

Had she given someone her number but not gotten theirs? Was one of her new friends in trouble?

Who is this? What’s wrong?

The phone started ringing from the number. She answered, expecting to hear someone from the diner, but the unwelcome voice of Brad filled her ears.

“Why have you been ignoring all my texts? Did you block me? Why would you do that? I love you so much and all I’m trying to do is make everything right between us.

We had a good thing, don’t you want me back too?

I could help you get into shape. You’d be beautiful, and we could dress you up and go to nice places. ”

Next to her, Carter growled and swerved the car to the side of the road and parked. “Give me the phone!”

Blinking in surprise, she handed him the phone. Brad was still monologuing about how much he loved and missed her.

“Listen up asshole!” Carter barked into the phone. “You fucked up and lost the best woman you could’ve ever had. She’s ours now, and you can go fuck yourself in the ass with a nail studded baseball bat. If you call her again, I’ll find you and do it for you!”

Then he ended the call. Mila sat stunned, half expecting Carter to turn his vitriol on her. It’s what Brad would’ve done.

Instead, he gave her a sheepish look as he handed the phone back.

“Please don’t be mad,” he said. “But that shriveled dick never deserved you. I probably shouldn’t have interfered, but the way he was talking really pissed me off.”

Mila’s mouth dropped open, then she lunged across the divide to hug him. “You were perfect! My own scruffy knight.”

“Who you callin’ scruffy?” he quipped, hugging her back. “But seriously, if he keeps harassing you, I need to know.”

She didn’t answer, only hugged him harder.

Something large pulled up behind them and honked. Carter sighed grumpily. “Crap, I parked in front of the bus stop.”

Mila let go and settled back in her seat but kept one hand on Carter’s thigh. She had to touch him, it felt imperative.

Carter pulled back into traffic so the city bus could pull up and let passengers out.

“So you're not mad at me?” he asked as he drove.

She shook her head. “Not about what you said to Brad. No one has ever stood up for me like that. When I told Dad we broke up, his first comment was ‘did you gain weight?’”

Carter sucked in a breath. “That’s some bullshit.”

“I see that now, but at the time, it all felt justified. As if my size was the reason all bad things happened to me. Didn’t get the job? It’s because you’re fat. Relationship over? Fat. Headaches? Fat. It’s as if everything I am as a person is reduced to my size, and it’s all negative.”

“I wish you could see yourself through my eyes,” Carter said. “All I see is beauty, inside and out. Your body is gorgeous, and your soul is pure kindness. You’re perfect, Mila. Well, except for the fact that you don’t realize how wonderful you are.”

Mila blinked, thinking about the way Carter and Gio constantly complimented her. They never said a negative thing and both of them adored her plus-sized body. The other night in the kitchen when they’d flooded her with compliments was burned in her mind.

“I want to love myself," she whispered. “But it’s hard to set aside a lifetime of influence.”

“I get that,” Carter said. “I guess it’ll be up to us to spend the rest of our lives providing a new influence. We can start right now!”

Carter spent the rest of the drive giving her compliments, some of them so outrageous she was laughing when they pulled into the driveway.

Babette met them at the front door, excited and dancing. She was wearing a yellow collar with flowers on it and a shiny tag with her name and Mila’s number on it. The collar was from the bag of donations, but the tag was from Gio and Carter.

The little dog was scheduled for a vet appointment in a few weeks for a checkup and shots.

Gio insisted that he pay for it because she was the family dog.

Mila didn’t argue, she wanted Babette to be taken care of more than she wanted to stand on principle and wait until she was able to pay for it herself.

“I should take her for a walk,” Mila said.

“I’ll do it,” Carter said. “You should go up and check on Gio. He should be done with his meetings by now.”

Mila still didn’t know what Gio did for a living, but it forced him to stay inside all day to be on hand for virtual meetings. She was concerned that Gio didn’t get enough sun, but he seemed healthy, so she didn’t say anything.

“I can walk with you, then check on Gio,” she said as Carter clipped the leash to Babette's collar.

Carter shook his head. “I’m sure Gio’s anxious to see you. Tell him to order my favorite pizza and another one of whatever you like.”

She nodded, and Carter slipped out the door with an excited Babette.

Gio wasn’t anywhere on the first or second floor. That left only one place left to look, the mysterious third floor. She knew Gio spent a lot of time up there, but she’d never been invited. No one forbade her, but it didn’t feel right to explore without permission.

Now that she was walking up the flight of stairs, it was almost as if she was in a historical movie about to discover her lover's deep dark secret.

“Right about now the floor should creak, warning him that I’m coming,” she murmured to herself with a chuckle. “Giving him time to hide his nefarious activities.”

“What nefarious activities?” Gio asked, appearing at the top of the stairs.

She cried out and missed a step. Somehow, Gio managed to get to her before she went tumbling backwards. He picked her up and carried her the rest of the way up.

“Are you okay?” he asked. He didn’t set her down at the top of the stairs but kept moving until he was in a giant room that must’ve taken up the entire third floor.

He sat down on a chair, his expression concerned. “Mila?”

“You paint!” she exclaimed, looking around the large room.

There were several easels set up, but she could only see the painting on one of them.

He must’ve just started because there wasn’t a lot of detail yet, but she thought it might be a person sitting on a bed.

Except the person was surrounded by yellow light.

Gio looked puzzled. “You didn’t know?”

Mila turned her attention back to him. “How would I know? You and Carter never talked about it, and I’ve never been up here.”

He hugged her close. “I’m sorry I failed to show you all this. Carter isn’t into art and only likes my paintings because I did them. I’ve been so focused on trying to make you comfortable with us that I left you out of this.”

“Can I see everything now?” Mila asked.

“Of course!” Gio agreed with shy eagerness.

He set her on her feet, then stood. Taking her hand, he led her around the room to the easel furthest away. They circled around it until she could see what he’d created. It was Carter, sprawled out asleep with all his limbs stretched out like he did when he was by himself in bed.

The painting’s perspective was at the side of the bed, as if the painter was sitting at bed level. Carter’s head was turned to the side and every aspect of his face was rendered in loving detail.

“The style reminds me a little of Vermeer,” she said. “But different. Warmer and more inviting. As if Vermeer loved the people he painted instead of them just being models.”

Gio pulled in a deep breath. “I don’t think anyone has ever given me such a phenomenal compliment.”

“It’s the truth,” she said. She was going to say more but then noticed another painting leaning against a wall.

It was of a woman wearing a 1920s style men’s suit.

Her hair was in the finger-curl style common in that era.

Her expression was what captured Mila’s attention.

It wasn’t soft and gentle, like sleeping Carter. Instead, she looked hard and jaded.

“She looks so angry,” Mila breathed, then moved to the painting and pulled Gio behind her. “But she also looks determined. Like she’s seen the worst and suffered but refuses to give up.”

“That’s an accurate description of Coraline,” Gio murmured, his voice thick. She looked up to see him wiping away a tear. He must have had some paint on his hand because he left a dark, iridescent smudge under his eye.

“Did I say something wrong?” Mila asked.

“No, nothing like that,” Gio said. “I’ve never had anyone see my art. I mean really see it.”

Mila shook her head in disbelief. “How could they not see it? You do this so well, I can feel the texture of her coat even though I’m only looking at her.”

“That’s practice, not art,” he argued.

She let go of his hand and turned to face him, putting both hands on her hips.

“What do you keep saying to me when I bake? That it’s not only a matter of skill and science, but also an art?

I think you need to hear the same thing.

” She pointed to all the paintings around them.

“These are all so much more than knowing how to mix paint colors or holding a brush. They make me feel, and isn’t that what art is supposed to do? ”

With a hitched breath, he grabbed her up in his arms. She wrapped her legs around his waist, and her arms around his neck as he held her tight.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

“Don’t thank me. Paint me.”

Gio