Page 32 of Midnight Kisses

“I just—” I had to break off to blow my nose again. “Sorry. I’m really sorry, Sadie. I don’t mean to be difficult or make you feel uncomfortable.”

“Why don’t you just spit out exactly what you want to say—” she said, and there was a definite guarded quality to her voice now, “—and let me decide how I feel about it.”

This was a horrible situation. The chances she would take this badly were high, and even if she didn’t, she probably still wouldn’t get it, and would always be fake and too-careful around me. But I couldn’t let it go. Not if I wanted to see what the future could hold for Miles and I. If he wanted that. It seemed like he might—I hadn’t known him long, but he didn’t seem like a man who went around cussing out business contacts on the daily.

“It made me uncomfortable to have two thin women glaring daggers at me while I danced with Miles, someone who is so conventionally attractive, and welcome in that kind of social environment. I’m not saying it was hostile in intent, but that’s how I received it.”

Silence echoed through the phone.

I castigated myself for bringing this up. For being a cheerless shrew pointing out this problem and making it everyone else’s. If I’d just let it go and prioritised comfort—notmine, but comfort in general—it could have stayed exclusivelymyproblem.

“It’s fine,” I said, trying to sound breezy. “I can tell it wasn’t malicious?—"

“No wait,” Sadie said. Then she surprised me by saying, “I hadn’t thought of it like that. I’m not apologising for my resting bitch face because I can’t help that?—”

“Totally!” I agreed quickly. “I get that.”

“—But I didn’t think about the layers. Sorry, cowgirl. That’s an angle I hadn’t considered. To be really clear, Miles thinks you’re fine and so he should, it’s an objective fact. I know he acts like a fuckboy sometimes, and I talk a lot of shit about him, but underneath all that he’s half-decent. I think you could be a good match. He likes you Perry, and he doesn’t like many people.”

“He’s lucky to have a friend like you.”

“I know.”

“I would love it if we could be friends too.”

“Definitely. Hard launch it?” she asked.

“Hard launch,” I agreed with a laugh, which was snotty, but heartfelt. “It’s nice to be your friend, Sadie.”

When we hung up, I felt a million times lighter.

Unfortunately, my cold wasn’t on the same upward path and I got steadily grosser over the week. Tala was staying at her girlfriend’s house a lot at the moment, so at least I could keep my germs to myself.

Guilt over not using every waking hour to work onPerry Skinpeeped at the edges of my conscience, but instead of letting it take over, I stayed in bed and watched Derry Girls and ordered delivery soups that didn’t travel well.

Everything would be fine. I’d eat soup now and work next week.

CHAPTER 11

MILES

I wasn’t a patient man,but I tried. Perry had walked out of my home, and I had to respect that. Other than the small detail of helping her career as much as I could and chewing out my oldest business contact when I thought he’d cancelled a meeting with her—otherthan that, I was giving her space.

But when her voice was nearly unrecognisable on the phone with Sadie, then she stopped taking calls altogether and no one heard from her for a couple of days, I started to get a little agitated.

It was Friday morning, and Sadie was going to courier some boilerplate contracts to Perry so she could build hers off of them. Of course, we couldn’t actuallygiveher any of our boilerplates, it was all proprietary and unrelated to her field—so I’d engaged one of my personal lawyers to draw up some things I could pass off as templates.

I was sick of hearing nothing from her, sick of sitting on my fucking thumbs in my office, so I took the envelopes and the post-it with her address off Sadie’s desk and made for the door with them.

Sadie didn’t try to stop me. She’d been subtly (or as subtly as she knew how) pushing me to do this all week.

Perry lived across town and traffic was a bitch. When I finally walked up her drive and rapped at the door, there was no answer. I rang the bell. Still nothing. Eventually, I leaned off the porch and knocked on a window. There was a shuffling sound from inside as a shadowy figure behind the frosted panes of the door shuffled down the hallway.

The door swung open and there she was.

Her nose was red, her eyes were watery, and her mouth hung open as she sucked air through it. Objectively, she’d never looked worse. Yet to my eyes, starved for the sight of her, consoled by only memories, she’d never looked better.

That’s how I knew I was in way over my head.

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