Page 86 of My Favorite Bad Decision
Miller
Your father invited me to dinner. I didn’t realize YOUR WHOLE FAMILY WOULD BE HERE.
But why would he do that?
I suspect it’s so you’ll see how easily I fit in and that this isn’t a big deal.
Except it hasn’t shown me how well Miller fits in at all—Maren has practically gone into a fugue state as she stares at him, as if she’s looking at both her past and her future at once. My dad might think he’s solved something but really, he’s just shown me how intractable the issue is: Maren thinks she loves Miller, and she thinks I’m the reason he left a decade ago, and the one outcome that willneverbe okay is if I get him instead of her.
I pick up my phone to reply but don’t get far.
“Kit,” snaps my mother. “No phones while we eat.”
Like I’m seventeen again. I’m surprised she hasn’t consigned me to a children’s table in a different corner of the room.
As dinner is served, Buck tells everyone about his boat, and they all manage to sound more impressed than I did. He’s the type of guy who loves holding court—the second someone asks Miller about his app, Buck’s trying to draw me into a secondary conversation, which I ignore.
I have no right to feel this, but I’m flooded with pride as Miller describes how he came up with the idea and how he was able to monetize it to an extent while making it free of charge in less developed areas. He’s even added a way to connect people without resources to surgeons who might be willing to treat them pro bono.
Maren is listening to him as if he’s hung the moon. Her eyes sparkle. Her cheeks and lips are flushed—signs of arousal.
I press a hand to my cheek—it’s warm, so I’m probably flushed too.
This is the effect Miller has on women. All women. Including, I’m sure, the woman who left her hair tie on his nightstand.
More questions are asked, and he sounds so fucking adult, and hot, as he answers, but every time he pauses, his eyes rest on me. Is it obvious to everyone at this table that we are not merely people who climbed a mountain together once?
“So,” says Charlie, turning to me and Miller, “I want to hear about Kit’s disastrous falls in Tanzania.”
“Screw you, Charlie,” I say. “I’m notthatuncoordinated.”
“Remember that time Kit stepped in a bucket before we knew she needed glasses?” my mom asks Maren.
I’m the only one at the table who isn’t laughing. “As I recall, Mom, wedidknow that I needed glasses. You said the prescription was low enough that I could get by without them and that I didn’t want to bethat girl.”
“Anyway, you were telling us about Kit’s biggest falls,” says Charlie, turning back to Miller like the utter dick he is.
Miller’s smile is gentle. “I don’t recall her falling. But I do remember her saving a guy with a broken leg.”
“You saved someone?” Maren gasps. “How could you not have told us this?”
I frown. “Because Ididn’tsave anyone. I wrapped up a guy’s leg. That’s it.”
“She also monitored everyone’s oxygenation and made sure that someone was directly behind one of the girls she was worried about.” Pride gleams from Miller’s eyes. It’s sweet but far too obvious.
“There isn’t a chance Kit didn’t fall over the course of an eight-day climb,” Charlie says, as a waiter refills his wine.
“I did,” I reply, “and Miller is being too much of a gentleman to allude to it. You should take notes, Charles.”
Which begs the question: why didn’t he just address the hair tie rather than hiding it? He’s a good guy...it seems really unlike him to be hiding proof of the woman who came before me rather than just confessing. All he had to do was admit he’d been sleeping with someone before he left for Africa. Hell, he’s slept with at least two women at this table…I was well aware he wasn’t a saint. It’s thedeceptionthat bothers me. The sleight of hand, as if I’m too dumb to have noticed it there or put it all together.
My phone vibrates.
Miller
Put on your sweater. Buck keeps looking down your dress.
I smile at Miller and tug my dress a little lower, leaning over slightly in Buck’s direction. “Could you pass me the salt?”
