Page 8 of Unexpectedly Wanted
I’d be back home. Milo would be rid of me in his space. We’d find our balance of me wanting to be coworkers that liked each other and he’d fight me every step of the way.
Yay.
I couldn’t wait.
“You’ve had this house for three years and I can’t believe this is the first time we’re seeing it.” Lorna’s words trailed off as they moved further into the house.
I was really starting to hate that woman. It was the way her words came out with a sweet tone, but there was this cutting edge to them underneath the surface. Like she was talking down to Milo and scolding him every damn time she spoke. It grated on my nerves, and if nothing else, it made me want to dive into this fake boyfriends thing even harder.
It wasn’t that I saw Milo as weak. It was more that he reminded me of an ignored puppy, too many years of barking and no one listening. He’d still bark, but it was like he knew it wouldn’t do any good, so after a while, it was like his words became echoes in an empty room. And eventually, he’d let whatever it was he had been trying to fight for slip away.
I couldn’t explain why that made my chest ache. Why it made me want to wrap him up and yell out all the things he was so desperate for the world to hear. To see.
Milo had been forced into a tour of the house, leaving me to drop his parents’ shit off in the guest room. Though I hadn’t put any of my stuff in here, I’d been smart enough to get a feel for the house earlier. If we were going to make this look real, I had to know which one of the two rooms on the main level held the bed for guests. It was also important to know where the bathroom was on the main floor, which happened to be right across from the guest bedroom. I also figured out that the other room, which was right next to the guest bedroom, Milo had made up like an office.
Office.
I snorted.
It was more like a shrine to all thingsnerdthat he loved. Display cases holding a vast array of action figures. Most of them still in the box, of course. And the ones that weren’t, I suspected were rare and he’d bought them for a pretty penny even though they had been previously loved, also having no choice that they had already been opened. Quite a few of those I knew were likely older than he was. There were comic books on display, too. Those were neatly in bags with boards. Some even had frames and were hung perfectly on the wall.
That was where I’d noticed the box. The wooden puzzle box that had distinct markings only made by one man. So, because I couldn’t help myself, I ran back to my apartment and grabbed the one-of-a-kind box I had that was made by the same man.
As I’d perused the collection, I’d noticed there wasn’t a single speck of dust to be found, and I shouldn’t have been surprised that his home was as spotless as his office at work.
I liked things neat and clean, but if you were to walk into my apartment right now, you’d most likely see a thin layer of dust on a few things. Probably a pile of clothes on top of the washer that I hadn’t gotten around to folding, even though I’d taken the load out of the dryer to put another in. And that load was probably still sitting in the dryer now.
But my bed was always made, and the dishes were usually done as soon as I was finished using them.
That was something Milo and I had in common, I suppose.
“I still don’t understand why you bought a house here when you know you’re going to move back home eventually,” I heard Milo’s mother say as they came down the stairs. “You know, the Bowman’s house just went up for sale. They’ve decided to retire and move up to Maine. That would make a lovely family home, and it’s only three streets over from our house.”
I resisted the urge to roll my eyes.
Milo said nothing in return.
“I was just about to make dinner,” I said, cutting in. “I hope baked chicken and vegetables is alright with you.” The way I phrased it said I didn’t care if they liked it or not. That was the option, and if they weren’t happy with it, they could go elsewhere for all I cared. I hoped they did, actually.
At Harold’s shifty side-eyed expression to his wife, I just knew she wasn’t going to be pleased.
“It’s a good thing we already ate,” she snipped. “Baked chicken and vegetables is no meal for a man. No wonder Milo looks like he’s sickly and wasting away.”
“I don’t… I’m not…” Milo sputtered.
“He looks rather healthy and perfect to me,” I shot back, tone dripping with sugar. I flashed a tender smile in Milo’s direction, and wasn’t sure that it was entirely fake.
One might think Milo would have smiled back. With any luck, he would have at least softened at my words. But that wasn’t the case at all. In fact, he seemed to become more confused and flustered, and his brow pinched in a way that said he thought I was making fun of him.
“It’s been a long, trying day,” Milo’s mother said as she spoke directly to him. “And you know how your father gets after driving all day.”
“It was four hours,” Milo muttered. I held back my snort, seeing as this was the second time he’d pointed that out.
“Which is a long time to be on the road,” I said quickly, false tone of understanding there.
“Y-yes,” she said as her gaze shifted to me. “Thank you. It is a long time. And Harold needs his rest. We are going to retire for the night.” Her attention went back to Milo. “I’m so very glad you put a television in the room. I do hope you have cable. You know how we like to watch our shows before bed.”
“It does. It’s all set up,” Milo said.
