Page 79 of More Than a Spark

“Um, we’ll see.” I glanced at Ryder. I wanted to take his hand. I wanted to have a real discussion with him about where we were going and what would happen if I did get this job.

“You know, Milo, I’m on the board. I work pretty closely with the CEO. I’m sure I could put in a good word for you.” He sipped his bourbon.

“Could you?” Ryder snapped his head up to look at Malcolm. “Milo’s artwork is fantastic. He deserves a shot working with them.”

“I’ll see what I can do.” Malcolm ticked his brows and smiled.

Pain sliced through my chest. What was Ryder saying? Didn’t he realize what it meant for us? He’d said he loved me. I bit my lip as the corners of my eyes stung. “Excuse me.” I jumped off the barstool and strode into the hallway we’d come in through. One of the doors we’d passed had to be a bathroom, right?

I swiped at the wetness filling my eyes. Fuck, I was letting this get to me too much. I opened a door, turned on the light, and ducked inside as my gaze caught on an ornate rounded mirror over a bathroom sink.

TWENTY

RYDER

“That would be really nice of you, Malcolm.” Why did Milo look upset? I watched him hustle off down the hallway. Where the hell was he going? “Excuse me.” I jogged after him, my gaze snagging on the door closing on the hallway bathroom. I stepped to it and turned the knob. It was locked. Under my breath, I said, “Shit.”

Sniffling filtered out from behind the door.

Into the door, I said, “Milo? Are you okay?”

With a crack in his voice, he said, “No, I’m not. Give me a minute.” He blew his nose.

Resting my forehead on the door and toying with the gold knob, I thought back over our conversation. He couldn’t be upset about Malcolm helping him, could he? He’d filled out a job application. He wanted that job. My chest ached. I couldn’t stand in his way. I’d hate it, but we’d lived apart before, we could do it again. “Milo, please, let me in.”

The knob turned and he opened the door. His vibrant eyes were red, and his lashes were wet.

“Were you crying?” I pushed inside and cupped his cheeks, my gaze darting between his eyes. “Talk to me.”

“I can’t take that job, even if by some miracle I get it. I can’t leave you.” He blinked and a tear meandered down his cheek.

“Milo, I love you to death. You know that, right?” I brushed my thumb over the wet trail left on his cheek. “You need to do what you love. If you do get the job, you have to take it. You can’t work at a job you hate, just to live here with me. We’ll find a way to make it work. We always have.”

He shook his head and pushed me away. “No, I can’t.” As he turned his head, his eyes grew wide. “Oh, um…”

My gaze followed his and stopped on my mother, watching us, swirling her red wine in her glass. “I’m assuming the two of you are together in the most intimate sense of the word?”

I dropped my arms to my sides, then snatched Milo’s hand. “Yes, we are. Milo is my boyfriend now.” No point in denying it. If she disowned me, so what?

“I see. How about we all sit down at the dinner table and have a conversation.” She walked off, her hair swaying against her shoulders, her high heels clicking on the tile.

“I’m sorry, Ryder.” Milo chewed his lower lip. “I couldn’t hide my feelings.”

“I know. Neither can I. We shouldn’t have to.” I scratched my cheek. “All this having to explain ourselves to everyone is such bullshit. She wouldn’t be demanding a conversation at the dinner table if you were a woman, and no one would be asking me how I wanted to tell people about you at work either.”

He shrugged. “It is what it is. Are you afraid?” He squeezed my hand.

“No, I’m not afraid.” I faced him. “I’m not afraid of anything when it comes to you and me. Even you getting a job in Seattle. But we’ll talk about that when and if the time comes. Don’t let it come between us, okay?” I pressed a hard kiss on his lips.

“Yeah, okay. Let’s go talk to your mom.” He sighed. “I have no idea now if Malcolm will want to put in a good word for me with the CEO or not.”

Puffing out my chest with a deep breath, I held tightly to Milo’s hand and led him down the hallway and to the right, into the dining room with Mom’s crazy long table. The thing had seating for twenty. How many times did she have that many people over for dinner? Scratch that, probably every time Malcolm needed to entertain his business associates.

I sat in a chair at one end, opposite her and Malcolm, while Milo dropped into the chair next to mine. Our drinks had been refilled and were resting in front of us.

Mom brushed her fingers up and down the stem of her wine glass. “So, how long have you two been together like this?” Her gaze met mine and her lip curled into a slight sneer.

With a peek at Milo, I said, “We’ve been together since fourth grade, but like this? I don’t know, a month?” I picked up my bourbon and took a long sip, letting it burn down my throat. With a hiss, I set the glass back down. “Ever since I moved back home.” From her expression, I could tell she didn’t like it. Too fucking bad.

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