Cinnamon Roll Set Up (Cinnamon Rolls and Pumpkin Spice)

21. Miles

Chapter 21

Miles

I don’t regret that I’m not out with Georgia on a “practice” date right now. She made a commitment to her family and she’s following through. I respect that. And I’m glad she let me join in the craziness that is an evening with her younger brother and sister. I don’t have siblings or even younger cousins, so I’ve rarely had a night like this. We’re making personal pizzas, and then we’ll settle in for popcorn and a movie.

I do regret letting Willa commandeer a ladle full of marinara sauce. Especially when she gestures wildly at me while she’s telling an exciting story about her classmates, leaving a zesty red splatter all over my pale gray shirt.

“Oops.” Her eyes go huge, and she tosses the ladle into the bowl of marinara. Sauce goes flying again, but it stays on the kitchen counter this time. “I didn’t mean it.”

“It’s okay.” I lift the fabric from my skin to try to escape the wet chill of sauce spreading down my front.

“All right, let’s put a pause on our pizza making.” Georgia presents two old dishtowels to the kids. “You two wipe your hands and go sit in the living room while I help Miles get cleaned up. ”

“Can we watch Netflix?” Finn asks. He’s already made his personal pizza, complete with symmetrical olive placement. Maybe he actually would have enjoyed an evening of math and cleaning.

“As long as it’s kid appropriate.” Georgia swipes at Willa’s hands with one of the dishtowels and gets her face for good measure. “We’ll be right back.”

She scoots the kids into the living room and turns apologetic eyes on me. “I am so sorry. That’s never going to come out.”

“Can we call it tie-dye?”

“I wouldn’t.” She takes my elbow and drags me into the hallway next to her washer and dryer. “I have stain removal stuff we can try, but we need to act fast.”

She takes the bottom hem of my shirt and starts to lift as if she’s going to strip it off me. Her gaze meets mine, and she sucks in a breath as pink washes over her cheeks. Glancing away, she takes half a step back. “Sorry. You go ahead.”

I’m not sorry. Images of what it would have been like if she’d followed through fill my head. I should probably get my thoughts in check, though. There are kids in the next room.

Oh, and she still doesn’t know how I feel about her. Can’t forget that one.

I peel off the ruined shirt, careful not to let cold sauce drip on my skin or the floor. She takes it from me and lays it across the open washer, stain side up.

“Come with me.”

She leads me into her bedroom. For all the times I’ve been in her apartment, I’ve never been in her room. Maybe it was a line I knew I shouldn’t cross, or maybe there’s just never been a need. But I’m here now, and it does not disappoint.

It’s colorful, like I knew it would be, filled with favorite thrift store finds. A vibrant painting of a wildflower field scattered with pink-and-red blooms dominates one wall. A bright orange-and-yellow block quilt is across her bed, with a solid teal throw at the bottom. A red lamp with a vintage style floral shade sits on her nightstand, along with a stack of her next reads.

It’s just shy of being too much, but that somehow makes it all the more inviting. Like the woman herself.

She pulls a couple of shirts out of one of her dresser drawers and holds them up. “Death Valley or Strawberry Shortcake?”

“How about Death Valley?”

She tosses the shirt at me. “It’s one of my sleep shirts, so it’s nice and oversized. I think it will work for you.”

“It’s great, thanks.” I can’t stop and think about her actually sleeping in this shirt or my brain will explode in a mess worse than Willa’s marinara catastrophe.

“It’s a good thing she didn’t get any on your pants. I don’t have anything long enough for you.”

“You don’t sleep in XL sweatpants, too?” I tease. Nothing she’d have would ever be long enough for me.

“Usually just the shirt. In the summer, I wear even less.” Her smile disappears. “I mean a tank top and shorts, not like…never mind.”

This is a great example of why I never came in here before. Now that I know what her bed looks like and what she wears when she’s in it, I may never sleep again.

“I’ll give you a minute…” She moves to scoot by me where I’m still standing in the doorway. “If you need to clean up, you can use the bathroom.”

She gestures over her shoulder at the door just cracked open.

“Thank you.”

Her eyes skate down my chest and back up to lock with mine. She blushes again, which is highly adorable. I don’t want something just physical with her, but the fact that she’s noticing the physical at all gives me hope .

“Yeah, of course. I’ll just, um…go take care of your shirt.”

With that, she slips out the door, closing it behind her to allow me privacy I don’t really need. But I don’t mind being closed up in her bedroom.

I pull the shirt on, stupidly pleased to know she sleeps in it. Next time, I want to see her wearing my clothes.

I debate the wisdom of lingering in her room but decide I’m too much of a gentleman for that. Actually, it’s more like I’m not up for that much torture. I take one last lungful of the scent in here—it brings to mind the caramel apple booth at the Harvest Festival—which probably only proves I’m not a gentleman at all.

In the hallway, Georgia’s scrubbing a stain stick over the red splotches on my shirt.

“You don’t have to do that.”

She shoots me a glare without any real fire in it. “Yeah, I do. I came up with the great ‘build our own pizzas’ plan. I should have been more on the ball with Willa.”

“I’m the one who was standing right by her. If anyone fell down in their supervisory duties, it was me.”

She frowns but seems to accept that. “I’ll let this soak in and wash it tonight. Keep your fingers crossed it’s some kind of space-age, no-stain marinara.”

“I should find a way to work that into one of my books. What will technology accomplish next?”

“Credit me in the acknowledgements, please.”

Pizza prep has no further setbacks, and after a while, we’re all sitting around Georgia’s dining table eating our specialty meals. Willa digs into hers like it’s the best pizza she’s ever had, getting sauce smeared across her cheeks. Georgia and I encourage her to at least dab at the damage with a napkin, but she refuses to lose her focus.

Finn shoots annoyed side-eyes at her. I’m not sure how much of it is the natural difference in their dispositions, and how much is generic older brother disdain.

“You could at least chew with your mouth closed,” he says to her.

Willa makes a face at him. “Do you want a closer look?”

“That’s enough,” Georgia says gently. “We don’t need to show anybody what’s in our mouths, please.”

“She doesn’t even have to try.” Finn scowls at his sister, who looks ready to take the argument to a physical level.

She’s also got a piece of crust hanging out of her mouth.

“Have you downloaded any new games, Finn?” Usually when we’re playing backgammon, he spends the whole time telling me about hit points or world building in whatever video game he’s currently into.

He abandons the argument with his sister and describes some demolition simulator where the only goal is to destroy all the buildings in-world using ridiculous weapons.

“I’ll show you at Willa’s party tomorrow,” he tells me. “When she’s busy with her girl stuff.”

“Sounds good.”

“I bet Ava’s getting your house so pretty for your party,” Georgia says to Willa.

“She did,” Willa announces. “But I can’t see it yet because it’s a surprise for tomorrow.”

“She already did?”

“Dad says it looks like a unicorn fairyland,” Finn says. “I think it looks like puke on a stick.”

Willa jams out her tongue.

“Then what are they doing tonight?” Georgia asks.

Willa shrugs, focused on her pizza. “Mommy and Daddy are on a date.”

Georgia blinks at her. This obviously isn’t the same information she was given by her dad and stepmom .

“Miles, did you know friends can kiss?”

Willa’s question has me staring like a deer that just stumbled onto an interstate. I look to Georgia for help, but she’s watching Willa with the same alarmed expression I must be wearing.

“I guess they can, yeah.” I have no idea where this conversation is going. Frankly, I’d rather she show me all the chewed up pizza in her mouth.

She scoops a long piece of cheese dangling off the slice into her mouth. “But you and Georgia don’t kiss?”

Next to me, Finn groans like his stomach’s troubling him. “Would you please not talk about kissing?”

“There’s nothing wrong with kissing!” She manages to work the cheese into her mouth and look vaguely threatening at the same time. “It’s a nice thing to do.”

“So gross.”

“Miles and Georgia can kiss if they want to! You’re not their boss!”

Love to hear that she’s on my side, even if this is a wildly inappropriate conversation to have.

“We don’t need to talk about kissing in front of other people like this.” Georgia’s remarkably calm, given the context.

“But we did before, and you didn’t mind. You said you wanted to kiss Miles.”

I think the pizza I ate is now wedged right behind my sternum. I take a drink of water before I can start sputtering like a madman.

“I didn’t say that,” Georgia says, eyes on me. “I said we don’t kiss.”

Not the relief I was looking for, to be honest.

“Oh.” Willa considers this. “I think you should.”

Finn’s long-suffering sigh fills the kitchen. “Not everybody likes each other that way. You’re obsessed with kissing. ”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“Please shut up.”

“You shut up,” Willa tosses back.

“Okay!” Georgia says loud enough to snap them out of their squabble. “Let’s wash our hands and get ready to watch a movie.”

The kids scramble out of the kitchen so fast I’m surprised they don’t upend the chairs. In another few seconds, a muffled argument over who gets the soap first drifts through the wall. Georgia and I lock gazes. Pause. And burst into laughter.

“Will you ever forgive me for tonight?” she says, getting up to clear the plates.

I start putting away all the leftover pizza ingredients. “The night could go a whole lot worse. Aren’t uncomfortably inappropriate conversations par for the course with kids?”

She laughs, filling up her dishwasher. “You’re not wrong. It’s probably best to stay on Willa’s good side if you can. She’s a master at zeroing in on the worst things to bring up.”

“She likes me.” I’m maybe a touch overconfident in my assessment, but she’s never told me to shut up or declared me a stupid-face the way she sometimes does with her brother. I’ll count it as a win.

“Let’s wait and see how things go at her birthday party tomorrow before you start bragging.”

By the time we’re finished cleaning up in the kitchen, the kids have made blanket nests on the floor in front of Georgia’s television. They’ve even cued up a Muppet Halloween movie, one of my favorites. All Georgia and I have to do is collapse onto the couch together.

We don’t leave much space between us, but we never do on movie night.

The movie gets rolling, and the kids settle in, lying on their stomachs and propped on their elbows. It’s homey and comfortable in a way I don’t usually experience.

I tilt my head a little closer to Georgia’s so I can whisper to her. “Owen and Josie are on their second date tonight.”

“I know. Josie called me.” She nudges me with her shoulder, moving slightly nearer to me in the process. “Seems unfair that the guy against matchmaking has so much luck with it.”

“It was pretty easy. I just saw two people who were meant to be together.” I decide not to mention Owen’s long-standing crush. Depending on how things progress with Josie, maybe one day he won’t mind if it’s shared.

“How did you know, though?” Her voice is soft, just for us. “That they were meant to be?”

I get the feeling she’s asking about more than just Owen and Josie. As much as she loves imaginary romance, she doesn’t have a lot of trust in the real version.

“Sometimes two people just fit, and all they’re waiting for is a little nudge to get them to see it.”

She never breaks eye contact with me, just goes on staring like she can find answers to other questions there. Daring more than I thought I might tonight, I slip my hand beneath hers where it rests on her leg and twine our fingers together.

The softest, smallest smile touches her mouth, and her hand tightens in mine.

It’s more than enough.

A minute or two later, I turn my attention back to the movie and find Willa grinning at us.

So. That’s going to be fun.

When Christopher and Ava Donnelly show up to collect their children, Willa is nearly zonked out. Finn’s been quiet for a while, either getting sleepy or really missing his video game systems. Georgia helps them collect all their things, and I just sort of stand around superfluous.

“Miles,” Ava says, as though we have secrets between us. “It’s so good of you to help Georgia with the kids.”

“I’m always happy to have pizza and watch a Muppet movie,” I joke. Incidentally, the joke is true.

Christopher’s thin smile doesn’t carry much warmth. “How is the bookstore doing this quarter?”

“Dad!” Georgia calls from where she’s stuffing Willa’s sweater into a backpack. “You don’t need to ask about that.”

“It’s a valid question I’d ask of any small business owner.”

She glares, herding the kids to the door. “Then you should rethink your small talk.”

Ava laughs as though they’re always like this. From what I’ve seen, they mostly are. “Kids, say thank you to Georgia and Miles .”

The emphasis makes me think that seeing romance everywhere runs in this family.

The kids do as they’re told, and Willa throws her arms around each of us. Finn is somewhat less affectionate but no less grateful.

“See you both tomorrow,” Ava calls as Christopher ushers the family out of the apartment.

Once they’re gone, Georgia closes the door and leans against it, facing me, her hands behind her back. “Scale from one to ten, how bad was it? One is the worst night ever. Ten is practically tolerable.”

I shrug. “I’d say an eight. Minus a point for the marinara incident, and one for how much of Willa’s food I saw while she ate it. ”

“Feral animals have better table manners. And you’re way too generous with your points system.”

“I had a good time.” Aside from all the distance between us right now.

“I’m sorry we didn’t do the practice date like I said we would.”

“I really don’t think I’m as hopeless as you seem to imagine I am.”

Her mouth curls just a touch. “Maybe not.”

Normally, at the end of an evening together, we just go our separate ways. Say thank you for dinner or the movie or whatever and carry on. Tonight, we stare like we don’t know how to close out our time together. Or, wishful thinking, maybe neither of us wants it to end?

“We could still go through the end of date stuff,” she says. “Since we’re basically here now.”

That’s an intriguing possibility. “What do you have in mind?”

“You know. Do you ask to see her again? Do you play it cool? Do you kiss her?”

The word “kiss” on her lips sends a spark of adrenaline through my system. I take a step closer. “In this case, I ask to see her again.”

She nods as though mentally ticking a box somewhere. “And, um…the kiss?”

I take another step. I’m in her space, but she just goes on looking up at me, hands still behind her back. “Are we imagining the date went well then?”

She swallows and presses her lips together. “I think we should, yes. Is a kiss part of your goodnight routine?”

This conversation is going to kill me.

“You have a misguided idea of what my dating life is like if you think I have a ‘goodnight routine.’ ”

“I think it is.” She ignores my protest. “I think you probably do kiss her goodnight.”

I gaze from one green eye to the other, trying to hear her with no misunderstandings. “Do you want me to kiss you?”

She smooths her lips between her teeth and back. “Do you think you need the practice?”

“Maybe. It’s been a while.”

She nods again, staring up at me with mountains of trust in her eyes. “For me, too.”

The writer in me wants to freeze this moment so I can write a poem about Georgia’s exact eye color as she stares at my mouth. Take down every nuance of the blush that warms her cheeks. Immortalize her soft pink lips that are finally, inexplicably, waiting for me.

The man in me just wants to kiss the hell out of her already.

I lean down agonizingly slowly. I have never felt my height quite so keenly. My mouth is called to hers on an inevitable journey, but before I reach my destination, she whispers to me.

“We can kiss as friends.”

The lava coursing through my veins turns into glacial ice. Whether her caveat is a warning for her or for me, it stops my momentum entirely. I won’t kiss Georgia as friends. Not when it would be so much more than that for me.

I angle my face to one side and press a kiss to the corner of her mouth. The smallest touch of heat, and then gone. If I kiss her skin anywhere for longer than that, I just might forget all my noble intentions.

I straighten in time to watch Georgia blink herself out of a daze.

“I think on the first date, I’d just kiss her on the cheek.”

She nods, darting away from the door and out of my reach. “That’s smart. Always keep them wanting more. ”

Her shaky laugh doesn’t reassure me. The trouble is, I do want more. But I need to be sure she truly wants me .