If I Only Knew(25)

“Me?”

“Yes, you!”

This wasn’t going the way I’d hoped. “Maybe it’s you,” I point out. “Do you think I’m attractive?”

“Yes,” he answers without a pause.

“Oh. Well. Okay. Thank you?”

He thinks I’m attractive. I don’t know how I feel about that, but I’m all warm on the inside. It’s been a long time since a man has said that to me. Even my husband was never overly affectionate. I know he loved me, but I wondered if he thought I aged well or if I was still beautiful to him.

Our lives were crazy and we didn’t make time for those things.

“You’re welcome. Did you seriously doubt that?” he asks.

“Doesn’t every woman?”

“Yes, and you’re all fucking bonkers!”

I don’t really like his tone, but I’m going to let it go since I’m sure I broke about ten company rules in this conversation.

“Okay, so tell me,” he says with frustration in his voice. “What has you so mystified?”

There’s no way out of this. I’m going to have to be honest.

I lean back and cross my arms. “What it is about you that people like? I think you’re a nice guy, despite trying to act otherwise, but my friends and daughter seem to think you’re some kind of catch.”

Milo’s eyes go wide. “I think it’s rather obvious.”

Of course he would say that. He’s in love with himself. “It’s definitely not your personality.”

“I’m a catch, Danielle. I’m rich, sexy, fantastic in bed, and I—”

“Have a very modest opinion of yourself,” I finish his sentence.

Milo puts the folder to the side and shakes his head. “You’re missing the bigger picture.”

“Enlighten me, then.”

I can’t wait to hear this. Here I was, thinking about the nice things he did yesterday and he’s about to remind me why he’s the ass Callum says he is.

“Apart from the obvious, I’m exactly what women want. I don’t play games or make you believe I want something I don’t.”

“Women don’t want that!”

“Maybe not American women.”

Idiot.

“Because your wife tells you . . . oh, that’s right, you don’t have one of those?”

Milo glares at me. “By choice, sweetheart. I don’t want a wife or love or anything to do with that rubbish. I’m quite happy with my life.”

“That’s what they all say.”

I believe that despite Milo’s proclamations, in the core of each human is a desire to be loved above all else. It’s why we seek companionship as soon as we start to detach from our parents. I wanted, more than anything, to be loved so deeply that it gave me life.

Then I realized that shit only exists in stories. I got a husband who loved me, and kids, the house, and then I remembered that being loved is only part of a bigger picture.

We also needed to work, take care of things, and ride out the rough patches of living together in tandem. And then it ended abruptly in the most painful way possible.

However, I would do it all over again because in those few moments when I was Peter’s entire existence, they carried me through the hard times.

Milo rises, lifting the folder he placed down. “I mean what I say. I’ve seen the downside of marriage, and I want no part of it. However, when I find that girl who knocks me on my arse and makes it unbearable to be away from her, she’ll know I chose her. I chose to love her against my will to be single. That’s the girl I’m looking for, but I don’t think she exists.”

I rest my arms on the desk and grin. “I can’t wait to see her knock you on your arse.” I use his word because British words are so much cooler than American ones.

He chuckles. “I can’t either.”

I see it in his eyes. Right now, he’s no more immune to love than the rest of us. He’s just gotten good at pretending.





“You’re not going!” I yell at Ava as she’s throwing her shoes on.

“You can’t make me stay home. I’ll get a ride to the courthouse on my own then!”

I move closer, gripping her arm. “Goddamn it! You can’t sit through it. You can’t!”

She can’t see the photos of her father lying in his blood. I know she thinks she’s old enough to tackle the world, but she has no idea. Court isn’t fun. It’s hell and it’s sucking the life out of me.

I refused to go today. I had to meet with an inspector and I didn’t think it was a good idea to reschedule. Of course, Milo brought up the fact that I have him as my extremely overqualified assistant and I was making excuses, but . . . he can suck it.

Now I’m arguing because Ava thinks she has a right to be there.

“Don’t tell me what I can’t do, Mother! I’m a lot stronger than you think. I’m not a child.”

“That’s exactly what you are,” I say as I slump down on the couch. “You are a child, Ava. You’re my child and listening to that . . . it’s not what your father would’ve wanted.”

“I need to know,” she admits.

How do I keep her from this? Is trying to protect her even the right thing? I look to the ceiling, praying for some help here.