Millie laughs uncomfortably again and runs shaking fingers through her hair. “Yes. That. I guess . . . I guess I was freaking out a little. I mean, I did have to run in for a few minutes, and I thought maybe it’d be nice to have you here when I got home, but I realize the way I said it just sounded really . . . wrong.”
I lean back against the couch, closing my eyes. There are two ways this is going: Millie realizes I’m falling for her and is ending all aspects of our romantic relationship, including as Catherine. Or, Millie realizes I’m falling for her and wants to get Cat out in the open so we can be together for real. It worries me that I don’t have the faintest idea which route she’s taking.
It all makes me feel really tired. “It’s okay, Mills.”
“It isn’t okay,” she says quietly. “I want to be better about those things. Talking, I mean. I think . . .” She pauses, glancing at me and then rolling her eyes at herself. “I think—I mean I know—that I want to . . .”
“Spit it out.” I laugh a little, trying to be gentle about her fumbling.
“I want to try to be with you. Like . . . that.”
“Like that?” I tease.
She reaches over and tries to tweak my nipple. “Romantically, okay?”
I weasel out of her reach. “What’s more romantic than a nipple twist?”
“Right?” She breaks out into an enormous smile. Flowers push up through the dirt to see that smile. Relief is like light hitting my retina, illuminating everything. “So, is that a yes?”
She leans forward, I lean a little, too, and her mouth meets mine for a single, sweet kiss.
And the moment turns a little shadowed.
That’s it, I realize. She hasn’t said a word about who else she’s been. She hasn’t admitted to being Catherine.
Am I okay just letting that go? Regardless, if we’re going to be together for the long run, she’s going to have to learn how to talk to me. She’s going to have to not lie to me. As it stands, Millie and I have no history going anyplace deeper than where we are right now.
“I want to try this, too, I think. But I want to be honest with you.” I meet her eyes, looking for some fault line there. She’s calm, but there’s anxiety beneath her expression. “There was someone else,” I say, and notice the way her cheeks pink just slightly. “Cat, remember?”
“Right, I know.” She shrugs. “It’s okay. I was writing someone, too.”
No, Millie. Don’t.
I watch her carefully, and she blinks away.
“She was . . .” I trail off. How do I describe Millie’s vulnerable side to her tough one? “She was really great, and I thought maybe we had something. She talked to me about things. It felt like we were really becoming friends. And,” I say, wiping a hand down my face, “I’ll admit—I maybe wanted more.” I pause, waiting. “She’s moving and it’s sort of a bummer that I’m not going to meet her.”
There. Take it, Mills. Take the opportunity. Own this. Tell me.
She searches my eyes, back and forth, back and forth, and then smiles with effort. “That is a bummer.”
My heart drops. I give her another few beats.
“Do you think your feelings for her will affect . . . ?” she starts, and then motions between us. Cat would have just said it outright: Will your feelings for her get in the way of starting something with me?
So why can’t Millie do it?
“I’m not sure,” I tell her, honestly. “I liked our dynamic of straightforward honesty. I want that in a partner. I’ll be frank, Mills, I am intensely attracted to you—to the point of distraction—and I love spending time with you, but I need to know you can talk to me about things. Things that really matter to you.”
“I can,” she says immediately.
Like this, I think.
“I need to know you’ll be honest.”
She nods. “I can be. I will. I know I’m not the best at being open, but it matters to me that I get better.” She lifts my hand, kisses it. “I want to be better for you.”
Then, as if a flip is switched, she stands quickly, using my hand to tug me up. “Hungry?”
And I see now that she’s going to let Catherine go. She’s going to send her alter ego away and pretend that it never happened—hilarious, given we’re having this conversation about her ability to be open and honest.
I shove my shaking hands deep into my pockets. “Do you mind if I take a rain check on dinner?”
“You want to go?” she asks, realization settling into a small V on her forehead.
“I want to think about all of this before we move forward. You’re my best friend, you know. Seems like we should make absolutely sure we’re ready to do this.”
Millie tries to hide a deeper reaction, but I get a small glimpse of it when her face falls for only a breath.
“Sure,” she says. “Of course. I’m just springing this on you out of the blue.” She runs a fingernail over the fabric along the back of the couch. “I get it.”
I lean forward, kissing her cheek, and then robotically make my way out of her house, down her steps, and to my car at the curb.
“Reid!” she calls out.
I turn. My stomach has dissolved away. “Yeah.”
She stares at me for a few lingering seconds. “You sure you’re okay?”
She knows.
She knows I know.
I hold her gaze.
“I’m not sure,” I tell her honestly, before climbing into my car.
After all of that, the strongest sense I have is mortification that I’ve been played. That Millie has been sleeping with me, and writing me as another woman this entire time, and probably never planned to say anything. That she thinks I wouldn’t eventually figure it out. What is she getting out of being Catherine? And if she wants to be with me—really be with me—why does she think we can start with a lie?
I lean back, turn on my car, and take a long, slow inhale, trying not to get back out and confront her. Trying not to jump to conclusions. Pulling away from the curb, I keep my hands steady on the steering wheel and try not to think about anything except the road in front of me. I certainly try not to think that I may have just lost my best friend.
Reid Campbell
Arranged marriage is looking pretty tempting.
Christopher Hill
Man, it’s just a dinner.
Stephen (Ed) D’Onofrio
Who’s getting married?
El Cabrón
Reid is being rhetorical dumbass
Stephen (Ed) D’Onofrio
Wait. Who is that? Alex?
El Cabrón
Yeah.
Stephen (Ed) D’Onofrio
What the fuck with your name?
El Cabrón
I took out a chick from the UC tech department and it didn’t go well.
Christopher Hill
So all your outgoing information is from ‘the asshole’?
El Cabrón
Pretty much.
Reid Campbell
Emails?
El Cabrón
Everything. Emails, IMs, my name in the grading portal, on the department website.
Christopher Hill
Holy shit that is hilarious
El Cabrón
My admin doesn’t think so. But he can go fucking fix it, I’m not going down there.