Page 13 of My Favorite Bad Decision
KIT
DAY 2: MTI MKUBA TO SHIRA ONE
9200 feet to 11,500 feet
Joseph wakes me at six with a gentle tapping on my tent poles. “Good morning, Miss Kit. Would you like some coffee?”
I thank him and groggily reach for my headlamp. I fell asleep last night about twenty minutes into readingThe Future of Publishing, woke a few hours later, and proceeded to remain awake for most of the night. It also feels as if elves took tiny hammers to every bone in my body while I slept, and I’m not sure who in the Smythson Explorers marketing department thought it was acceptable to describe the sleeping pad as “luxurious,” but I’m fairly certain I can sue.
I religiously apply sunscreen, pull on clothes, and head to the dining tent. The table is laid out with a platter of eggs and some kind of fried bread that looks a bit like French toast. Miller, disgustingly well-rested and handsome, is the only one here.
I slide onto the bench across from him unwillingly and pour myself a cup of coffee. “Why did you say that yesterday?” I blurt. “That I was stalking you?”
I’m trying to be casual, but I don’t think I’ve succeeded. There isn’t enough oxygen in this tent suddenly. My chest constricts.
“Because I told your dad two months ago that I was going on this climb, and here you are,” Miller says.
I blink. That’s impossible. My father seemed as surprised as I was to discover Miller was on the trip. More to the point, my dad wouldn’t talk to Miller in the first place. “When the hell did you talk to my father? Hehatesyou.”
He gives me a smug smile. “Au contraire, squirt. Your father adores me. We have lunch once a month at Il Buco.”
Il Buco is my dad’s favorite restaurant. If Miller’s fucking with me right now, he’s doing a really good job of it.
“Why the hell did my dad go from hating you to having lunch with you every month?” I demand, scooping eggs onto my plate. “After the way you treated Maren, he should be on the dark web finding someone to put you down, not asking you to lunch.”
There’s the tiniest pulse of a muscle in his jaw. I wouldn’t even notice it if I hadn’t been watching so closely, but there’s something in his face that tells me he doesn’t want me to knowwhymy dad forgave him.
“That was a long time ago, Kitten,” he says, regaining his equilibrium. “Most people don’t hold a grudge for over a decade. You, apparently, are the exception.”
“Do not call meKitten,” I hiss as the Arnaults enter.
I’m glad they’ve arrived. I need a little time to process the fact that my father—the most loyal, intelligent man I know—has behaved in a way I can only deem intensely disloyal and really fucking stupid. I can’t believe he’s been lunching with our family’s enemy and never said a word.
“I need a new tentmate,” Alex says, taking the seat beside mine, nodding toward his sister. “This one snores.”
“I don’t snore,” Maddie argues. “Mom, tell him to stop saying that.”
“Alex, stop saying that,” his mother commands. “She just has allergies.”
“Great,” he says, handing me the platter of sausages, “since it’s just allergies, you sleep with her.”
“Oh God no,” Stacy says with a grin. “Those allergies would keep me up all night.”
I pour myself a second cup of coffee. When Alex asks if I’d like the sugar, I shake my head. “I’m trying to keep this trip healthy.”
“You sure?” Miller asks. “You could use some sweetening up. And you’ve barely eaten. Finish your food.”
It’s unfortunate that he’s being so abrasive and bossy publicly. No one’s ever going to believe his death was an accident now. Very deliberately, I throw my napkin atop my plate. He’s not going to say ‘finish your food’ like I’m a toddler and watch me obey.
Instead, I’m going to refuse to eat just to show him who’s boss.
Which is very adult.
After breakfast, we each fill our water bottles and grab our daypacks for the six-hour climb ahead. As miserable as the sleeping situation was, I guarantee I could nap for a couple of hours right now if only the porters would leave me behind.
Alas. They will not.
We set out through the rainforest, with Miller just ahead of me, speaking Swahili to his porter and Joseph. It’s irritating, the way he charms them. Hopefully they don’t take it too seriously because he will definitely make them all fall in love with him and then dump them by text. I have a mental image of all these lovely porters staring at their phones, waiting for him to change his mind. Possibly followed by a little light stalking of him on social media the way Maren did and perhaps still does.
