Page 31 of My Favorite Bad Decision
The rock scrambling isn’t as terrible as I’d thought it might be, but the big daypack sure doesn’t help. Miller stays behind Maddie, mostly, but does come up behind me at one point to give me a small lift onto a boulder.
I thank him, pretending I don’t still feel his palm against my ass as I continue on.
There’s not a lot of conversation as we climb since we’re all single file and focused. I occasionally check back on him. He nods at me and says, “You’re doing great.”
Is there a parallel universe in which I could go with him to Everest? One in which it wouldn’t upset everyone in my world, and Maren and Blake wouldn’t consider it a betrayal? I’d only be there as a friend—ensuring the altitude wasn’t getting to him and that he wasn’t making stupid choices—but no matter how married Maren is, even a friendship with Miller would be a slap in the face to her—the worst sort of disloyalty.
We pass the kissing wall, which isn’t as terrifying as it sounded, and, at last, we’re done with the most intimidating part of the trip aside from the push to the summit. Everyone cheers. Leah and Gerald sloppily French kiss—my stomach revolts. The Arnaults hug each other.
I wish I could hug Miller, but that would be weird. He lopes an arm around my shoulders and gives me a quick squeeze instead, as if I’m his kid sister.
It isn’t quite enough.
* * *
We getto Karanga Camp by lunch, an early day for us. The views are astonishing but it’s too cold and windy to enjoy them. We change into dry clothes—this time, since it’s not raining, Miller gives me some privacy, though he claims he’s doing it so I “don’t get too titillated.”
We spend the afternoon in our sleeping bags, watching 30 Rock on his phone. And the whole time I’m wishing we could turn it off and just talk. I want to know why he left the Hamptons the way he did. I want to know why he never could see himself getting serious with my sister and whether there was ever anyone he did get serious with. These are questions I probably shouldn’t ask.
“Why didn’t you join your dad’s firm?” I demand, reaching over to pause the show. He quirks a brow at me in surprise. “I mean, why suffer through it and then not use the degree? I’m assuming law school isn’t the cakewalk everyone makes it out to be.”
He laughs quietly. “I wasn’t aware people were calling it a cakewalk.”
I grin. “Maybe not. But your dad built them a stadium so you wouldn’t have to go to class.”
“Exactly. With the money he made defending human traffickers.” He shrugs. “I went to law school for the wrong reasons, and I left in the middle of my second year to start the company.”
I curl up with my head on my pillow. I never realized he’d left law school. “What reason? A love of money?”
He grins. “No, I still love money. But there’s this expression—rags to rags in three generations. You know, some dirt-poor ancestor worked himself to the bone, but a few generations later his descendants are so accustomed to being given everything that they think they don’t have to work and do ridiculous shit instead. I never wanted to be a lawyer, but I also didn’t want to be that kid. I didn’t want to aimlessly float through my twenties.”
I laugh. “I’m not sure I’d consider the creation of some incredible and, I assume, highly profitable, app to be ‘ridiculous shit’.”
He lies down and faces me. “Careful, Kitten. That almost sounded like a compliment.”
“True. And I haven’t looked at the app yet. I bet it’s terrible.”
He laughs again. “There’s the Kit I remember. I was just sort of waiting until I had an alternative, and then we got this child custody case at my dad’s firm when I was working there for the summer. The mom had taken her kids to the mountains and one of them got stung by a bee and reacted but had no idea where to find a doctor. I just thought how fucking terrifying that would be. I couldn’t believe there wasn’t some easy way to find the information.”
His face has come alive, talking about it; his eyes are brighter.
What opposite paths we’ve taken. He broke away from what he knew to find something that would make him happy, regardless of the risks.
And I gave up the thing that was already making me happy for no reason at all.
* * *
Dinner isstew and kebabs again. The altitude is killing my appetite, as is four straight days of eating the same shit.
“You ate almost nothing,” Miller says as we climb into the tent.
“I’m saving room for Chipotle or McDonald’s at the next camp.”
He grins and reaches toward his bag. “Guess what I brought?” he asks, swinging a box of Raisinets over my head.
I groan. “My favorite. How did you know?”
He glances away. “It was only ten years ago. I haven’t forgotten everything.”
