Total pages in book: 47
Estimated words: 45357 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 227(@200wpm)___ 181(@250wpm)___ 151(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 45357 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 227(@200wpm)___ 181(@250wpm)___ 151(@300wpm)
I’ve never experienced anything like it before or since, and over the years the only way I could explain it to myself was that there are some people who are just supposed to be in your life. Through fate or coincidence, I found them, and I knew within minutes of meeting them that I didn’t want to let them get away. Miller and his mother were my people.
I think I loved him right away. I didn’t question it, didn’t doubt it, but I never in a million years imagined it could change into something different. Something that wasn’t as pure as what I felt in that hospital room.
On that day I knew that I was as straight as they come and Miller was going to be my family.
Looking back, I can see now that my feelings were already starting to change before his mother died. I just didn’t realize what was happening until I stormed into Miller’s living room to find him half-naked and making out with another man on the couch.
A brisk knock jolts me out of my stupor.
“Brendan? If you’re hiding, they’re gone now. And your food’s getting cold.”
As Miller’s steps fade, I look at myself in the mirror again, pushing my wet hair off my face and reaching for one of the extra toothbrushes that Miller always has on hand in case of emergency.
We’re finally alone. I better make this count.
I find a plate with sizzling bacon, hot biscuits and jam waiting for me on the counter and smile. No eggs. He always remembers. “Thanks.”
He sets down a fresh glass of juice and studies me as I slide onto the now-empty stool. “How’s your head doing?”
“Better.” I take a bite of crisp bacon and close my eyes, savoring the taste. “This helps.”
“Good.”
He’s silent while I eat, wiping down the counter a little too vigorously for me not to notice. I drop my last bite of bacon on the floor next to the waiting Yorkie and reach for a napkin to wipe the grease off my hands. “So who did the dynamic duo try to set you up with while I was sleeping?”
Miller pauses, his lips quirking. “Diane’s dermatologist. She went in to check on a mole and he liked the picture of me she had on her phone.”
Fucking Diane. “Interested?”
He shakes his head firmly and I relax.
“Too bad,” I lie. “And this new neighbor? What’s Fred short for?”
Fredrick? Winifred?
His eyes meet mine and the knowing laughter in them makes me grin. “Fred hasn’t decided on gender yet, but we’re allowed to use the pronoun she when referring to her, since we’re too old to grasp the vernacular of her generation’s sexuality.”
I laugh and shake my head. “She said that? She’s like twelve, isn’t she?”
“Fifteen. A very mature and intelligent fifteen.” Miller’s smile dims. “She’s been through a lot. Most of it on her own since her sister—who as far as we can tell is her only legal guardian—basically dropped her off at the rental house across the street, vanishing for long periods of time to hang out with her boyfriend. We hardly see that one. Heather and I take turns making sure Fred has groceries and money for clothes.”
“Damn.”
Of course Miller is looking out for her. His mother had a habit of collecting strays as well—I’m a prime example of that—and he’s more like her than he knows.
“Oh, about your dog.” Miller reaches for my plate but I lightly slap him away and get up to put it in the dishwasher.
“Your dog,” I say firmly.
“I found his papers in your suitcase while I was putting your clothes away. Dresser in the second guest room, by the way. Did you know his name? Is that why you bought him?”
He unpacked my clothes while I was sleeping? That’s the best news I’ve heard all morning.
He’s assuming I’ll stay. He wants me to stay. I’m almost thankful to kinky Kimmy for getting me evicted.
“Well?”
Right. The dog’s name. “No idea what his name is. Snuggles? Lamby Pie?”
“Dix Balzack. The third.”
The plate wobbles in my hand and Miller grabs it with practiced ease, sliding it into the dishwasher in a smooth move I’d applaud if I weren’t in shock on the dog’s behalf.
“Dicks Ballsack?”
“Balzack. The third.”
“What kind of—the third? That means there are two other dogs out there with the same name?”
Miller meets my gaze and in seconds we’re both leaning against the counter and laughing our asses off. The poor dog racing in a circle and yipping doesn’t seem to care that we’re laughing at his frank-and-beans moniker. Either he’s got a good sense of humor, or he’s hoping I’ll drop more bacon.
“We’ll keep Dix,” he finally tells me. “I wanted to name him Ridiculous anyway, so I can work with it. But I’m taking him to the vet in a few hours and I’m not mentioning Balzack. We’ll take that to our graves.”