The Do-Over (The Miles High Club #4)(52)

He gives me a beautiful broad smile. “Only the best for my girl.”

His girl.

We stare at each other as the air swirls between us.

“You shouldn’t have spent your money on me.” I smile.

“It’s okay.” He shrugs. “I didn’t need that nut.” He hugs me tighter. “I have a full day planned for us, starting with birthday cake for breakfast. Then we are going swimming and having a picnic, followed by dancing our way around town tonight.”

I smile, excited. We always have so much fun together. “I can’t wait.”

My phone rings on the side table, and the name lights up the screen.

Regi

What?

My ex-boyfriend. What the hell is he calling me on my birthday for?

“You going to get that?” Christopher asks.

I think for a moment. Why would I want to talk to him when I have everything that makes me happy right here? I don’t feel inadequate or insecure or any of the things that Regi makes me feel.

I stare at Christopher as a new realization sets in.

I’m over Regi. I’m finally over him.

When did that happen?

“No.” I smile over at my beautiful, reliable friend, the man who’s never lied to me. The man who cares for me, day in and day out.

“No, I’m not.” I sit up in a rush. “Let’s go eat that birthday cake.”



He spins me out, and to the sound of his laughter, I twirl, and then he slams me back up against his body.

Dancing with Christopher Miles will never get old. We’re dancing our way around the world.

Christopher loves dancing, and I, I am his forever-faithful dance partner.

He spins me again and then pulls me back to him with force, and when I’m in his arms like this and listening to him sing to me, nothing else seems to matter.

“I have a request,” the DJ calls from his podium as everyone falls silent to listen.

“This song is for a Grumpy Whitmore,” he calls.

Christopher’s mouth falls open as he fakes shocked horror, and I goofily smile up at him.

The DJ holds a card out as he reads the written message. “It says here that the song is from the sexiest man alive.”

I laugh out loud.

Christopher holds his hands out as if on a stage and takes a bow, and everyone laughs, realizing it’s him.

The song comes on, “Halo,” by Beyoncé, and I smile up at my heavenly dance partner as he takes me into his arms. “This is your song, Grumps.”

“How is it my song?”

“Because you have a halo.” He kisses my temple as he holds me close. “My angel.”

“It’s you that has the halo, my darling,” I whisper.

“You’re right, I do. We should totally fuck to this song.” He spins me hard, and I laugh out loud.

“You’re ruining it.”

He smiles down at me as we dance, and a strange feeling comes over me . . . warmth and belonging and, for the first time in my life, safety. We stare at each other as the words roll over us.

Maybe we really should fuck to this song.

Six weeks later

I glance at my watch. An hour until I get to see him.

Weekends go so slow.

How can you miss someone so much when you saw them just this morning? It doesn’t make any sense, not even to me.

Christopher, Basil, and I return to Barcelona every weekend so that we can work.

We all have great jobs here and get nearly a full-time wage for just two twelve-hour days. It’s well worth the trip back, plus there’s the fact that Christopher secretly wants to stay near Eddie. He can’t bear to leave him just yet. The rest of the gang are in Portugal, and we’ll meet up with them again on Monday.

We’ve been all over: Germany, Italy, Switzerland, and now Portugal. The world is a beautiful place . . . even more beautiful with him by my side.

Christopher and I have a weird thing going on. When he first tried to kiss me in the ocean and I rejected him, he pulled back. A week later, we had it out, and he told me he was incapable of the kind of relationship I wanted.

Then we kissed, and I knew in that instant that I wanted more.

He tried to pursue it for not even a week and then gave up, just like I knew he would.

We fell back into the friend zone for a couple of months . . . but then he came back to me.

And something changed.

I can’t put my finger on exactly what that is or what it means, because technically we’re still just friends and nothing has ever happened between us.

But it’s different.

All I know is that when I’m with him, nothing else matters.

Which makes life pretty good at the moment, because we’re together all the time.

I finish my shift and clean up until finally it’s knockoff time. “Bye. Have a great week, everyone,” I call as I head off.

I walk to the corner, and there in the shadows I see him, standing silently in the dark as he waits for me.

My cardigan in his hand.

My heart constricts because in his mind he doesn’t know how to be romantic.

If only he knew . . .

Saw in himself what I see in him.

It’s all there, deep inside . . . just waiting to be let out.

“Hi.” I smile.

His big eyes hold mine. “Hey, baby,” he whispers as he pulls me in for a hug.