Page 10 of Unexpectedly Wanted
“I never knew my grandparents,” he said. “They were all gone before I was born.”
“I knew my mom’s parents. My dad had been adopted when he was a baby, and his adoptive parents seemed to feel their responsibility was over when he turned eighteen. They were… hardly talked about.” I paused, not sure why we were sharing this kind of stuff, but also really happy that we were. “My grandpa was awesome. He was my favorite person.”
“Was?” Milo asked. “So is he not anymore, or is he no longer around?”
“He died six years ago, now. Caught a bad case of pneumonia and… with his failing health, he hadn’t been able to recover.”
“I’m sorry,” he said, but his tone was flat, almost as if he’s said it simply because it was expected.
“It’s okay,” I reassured him, even though it didn’t sound like he needed it. Maybe I did. It had been a long time since I’d talked about the man that made my childhood bearable. “I got a lot of time with him. I have no regrets.” I paused. “At least when it comes to him.”
Milo moved closer. His shoulder brushed against mine, but I didn’t think he was even aware of that fact.
“Do you have regrets about other things?” he asked, his focus hazy as he stared down at my hands.
I studied him for a moment. Something twisted and rocked in my gut.
What if I’d tried harder with Milo?
Harder to understand him? To get him to understand me? What if we hadn’t spent all this time and energy doing this hate dance that we seemed to always get stuck in? What if… we could be friends?
“Maybe,” I said.
And left it at that.
4
Milo
“I, uh, didn’t really think this through, I guess,” Remy said as he stared at the bed.
He’d just come out of the master bedroom en suite bathroom, having done whatever it was he needed to do in order to get ready for bed. I’d been nice and let him go first.
I turned my head and stared at the bed too. It seemed like the thing to do.
Right.
The bed situation.
I turned my attention back to him, not even trying to stop myself from glaring hard.
He ran his hand back and forth through his short hair, making it stick up in a way that almost made him look what some would describe as adorable.
Like a messy kid.
I didn’t like kids, by the way.
So that was all I could see now, and it made me dislike him even more.
“Oh, you didn’t think this through, huh? Really?” I hissed, trying to keep my voice down because I was positive my mother had bat-like ears and could hear us even though she was one floor below and on the other side of the house. “What part didn’t you think through? The part where we have to pretend to be boyfriends, even though I didn’t ask for this? Or the part where we have to be fake boyfriends who are living together, which means that we are probably sleeping in the same bed?”
“Sorry,” he mumbled. “I was just trying to help.”
What?
Okay, so this was the first time he’d actually admitted to why he’d done this.
I wanted to ask more, but I held myself back. Instead, choosing to go on the defensive.
