Page 55 of My Favorite Bad Decision
“Hey, I’ve got us reservations Monday night, after my flight gets in,” he says when he comes back to the call.
I’d hoped to just end things, but I can’t think of a reason to tell him I won’t be available, which is exactly how Tuesday girls are made—by agreeing to go to the dinner you don’t want to be at, by letting your mother turn you into her personal American Girl doll, by politely saying things you don’t mean to all of her friends.
Maybe my life has been a succession of Tuesdays simply because I didn’t want to tell anyoneno.
The heels are already pinching my feet as I go downstairs to hail a cab. The dress is too cold for the weather, even with a wool coat draped over my shoulders.
Once I’m finally inside the car, I open my phone and look over the pictures from Kilimanjaro, the ones I hid.
Miller, grinning at Uhuru Peak. Miller, smiling at me with a sea of clouds behind him at one of the lower camps. Miller in our tent, holding candy out of my grasp. Miller, walking ahead of me while he talks to Gideon.
I swallow hard. Those days with him felt like Saturdays. I’m not sure I’m ever getting them back.
The cab deposits me at the club, and I hand my coat to an attendee before I head to the reception desk. “Hi,” I say. “There’s supposed to be a room reserved for my mother’s birthday? It should be under the name Dalton?”
“Kit,” says a man’s voice, and a shiver runs up my spine.
It sounds like Miller. Miller, walking up behind me as we ascend to the next camp, Miller, cutting in so that I can’t slow dance with Adam.
I turn…
And find Miller standing there, all serious hazel eyes, and perfect mouth, and tall enough to make me feel small by contrast.
He’s got a day’s beard and isn’t at all dressed for this occasion or any other that might be hosted here. He’s wearing worn jeans and a T-shirt, with a down jacket over the top.
He looks exhausted and unshowered, and I’ve never seen anything as lovely. He grabs my hand and pulls me into an oak-paneled hallway to the left, then turns me to face him.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, glancing around us to make sure no one’s exiting the surrounding rooms. “You’re supposed to be on a safari.”
He exhales, pushing a hand through his hair. “I thought you said you were going to end it with Blake.”
“What?” It’s bizarre that he’s here, bizarre that he hasn’t answered a simple question. “I am, but he’s out of town, and unlikeyou, I don’t dump people by text.”
He smiles. “Ah, there’s the acid tongue I’ve missed so much.” His gaze moves over my face and pauses, briefly, on my cleavage before darting back up. “You look a little different than you did a few days ago.”
“Well, I looked horrible a few days ago,” I reply. “It’s harder to get away with it here.”
“You looked beautiful,” he says, holding my gaze. “You looked beautiful there, and you look beautiful here.”
I lean back against the wall, breathless. It packs exactly the hit I expected it would, having Miller West tell you you’re beautiful and staring at you as if he’s never meant anything more.
And somewhere upstairs, my sister is waiting. He probably said it to her too, once upon a time. She probably daydreams about this very moment and still feels the way it made her heart twist with want, the way it does mine.
“Why are you here?” I ask again. “My whole family is upstairs.”
He swallows. “That’swhyI’m here. I don’t know if I should even be telling you this, but Blake is going to propose tonight.”
I stare at him. “What?No, this is just a thing for my mom’s birthday.”
“According to your dad, it’s all a ruse. And the press is here to capture the moment along with your family and Blake’s.”
I shake my head. “That’s…no. My dad must’ve been pulling your leg. My mother would never give up that much attention, not on her birthday, and I just talked to Blake like an hour ago. He was still in Vegas.”
“Kit,” he says, “come on. Do you have any actual proof that he’s still there? I’m telling you right now…your father is upstairs, texting me one dire warning after another about this.”
My stomach drops.
All the primping. Even for my mom it was over the top…the spray tan, the nails, the highlights. She wasn’t preparing me for her birthday. She was preparing me forengagement photos.
