Page 29 of A Place Like You

He stares at me, blinking a couple of times. So, I expand a little further. “Well, at least it seems like you didn’t bring a significant other along.”

Caught off guard, he rubs his chin thoughtfully. “Huh. I didn’t think about that.”

“What?” I ask, puzzled by his response. Did he forget about his wife or significant other while he was escaping? Who does that?

“If any of my siblings have significant others, they should’ve brought them with us, right?” he muses, his mouth twisting in deep thought, as if pondering the implications.

I study him curiously, intrigued by this revelation. “Are you telling me that you don’t know if your brothers and sisters are married or in serious relationships?”

“We just discussed my relationship with them. We don’t get along at all.” His response carries a hint of exasperation, a sigh escaping him as if I hadn’t been paying attention to our conversation.

My expression reflects shock, my eyebrows raising and my eyes widening in surprise, as if struck by the reality of their distant relationships. “I mean, yes, but I didn’t think it was that bad.”

Drake glances my way, a raspy, humor-filled voice softening his words. “I could almost bet that it is worse than you think.”

My jaw slackens, taken aback not only by his humor but also by the realization of how disconnected his family truly is. My mind drifts to my own sister, Brighton, and how despite living states apart, we always knew each other’s life updates, always staying connected. Well, at least until . . . he entered her life.

His gaze, laden with questions of its own, roams over my face, seeking answers. “Where’s Milo’s dad?” he asks, his words hanging in the air, heavy with the weight of my secrets.

I hold my breath for a couple of seconds because no one ever asks about him. I’m not ready to respond on command.

“He’s not a part of his life,” I say, my voice steady, concealing the emotions tied to the truth. I guard the secret carefully, unwilling to let my voice waver, not giving away the depths of my feelings and the reasons behind his absence.

“I’m sorry,” he says, his voice filled with empathy. “We don’t have to talk about it if it’s so painful.”

He doesn’t know exactly why speaking of Milo’s dad hurts, and like everyone else, he’ll never figure it out. So, I offer a nonchalant shrug, pretending we’re discussing something less personal. “It’s for the best.”

His gaze meets mine, searching for something more, an unspoken longing hovering beneath the surface. “If you ever want to share about him, I’m here.” The gentleness of his voice makes me want to trust him.

A smile tugs at my lips. “Thank you. I will share as soon as you tell me why you’re here,” I reply, my voice filled with a hint of mischief, masking the pain.

His fingers graze the back of his neck, a nervous gesture betraying his uncertainty and reluctance. “So that’s a hard no,” he admits with a blend of reluctance and hesitation.

“Exactly,” I reply, a sense of mutual understanding passing between us.

Checking the time on my phone, I realize it’s getting late. “It’s time for me to head to bed but thank you for the company.”

As he stands up, I notice him staring at me for a moment, his gaze lingering on my lips before he turns around and waves goodbye. Confusion creeps in, wondering if I said something wrong to make him almost rush out of here.

Or maybe he wanted the same as me, a kiss, company, and probably more.

A place to belong and someone to love.

Just the impossible.

Chapter Seventeen

Wren

Every Sunday, Milo and I escape the mundane, swapping the comfort of our kitchen for the bustling charm of the coffee shop. Our outing is one of the most exciting things for Milo. He loves to order his own drink and sit at the shop drawing in his coloring book while we plan the day.

There’s nothing too exciting, but the promise of this treat is as enticing as the sugary lure of a cinnamon roll, propelling us into the day’s chores right after we’re done with our breakfast.

As we push open the door, a golden glow envelops the cozy coffee shop, casting a warm ambiance that embraces us in its charm. The air carries the irresistible aroma of freshly brewed coffee fused with the delicate fragrance of vanilla. The gentle chatter and the clinking of cups fills the space, infusing it with an inviting atmosphere.

Approaching the counter, we meet a new face. The barista stands gracefully behind the register, her hair graced by strands of silver woven into an elegantly understated bun. The gentle lines etched at the corners of her eyes speak of a life filled with stories, and her smile, wide and welcoming, carries the warmth of freshly baked bread.

“Good morning, what would you like?” she greets us, her voice reminiscent of a grandmother ready to spoil her grandchildren.

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