Running From Forever (14 page)

“Ahem!” A grumbled noise disturbed us. We both
turned to see who the sound came from. A woman sitting at the table
next to us scowled openly at us. “Seriously?” she asked once our
eyes met.

“Is there a problem?” Miles asked, his voice
amused.

She rolled her eyes as she shook her head.
“You’re unbelievable, Miles. Really,” she hissed. She was annoyed,
and also appeared to not be a fan of Miles. An ex maybe? I couldn’t
be sure, but I wouldn’t doubt it if she were. She was
gorgeous—beautiful auburn hair pulled back into a bun, emerald
eyes, and pale skin that matched her porcelain appearance. She was
exquisite, so stunning that she made me feel uneasy. Picturing
Miles’ possible past with her made my stomach churn. Another thing
I wasn’t expecting tonight was meeting Miles’ past, especially
beautiful, flawless, affluent exes—already established in this
lifestyle.

“Lovely to see you, too, Gwen,” Miles responded,
his grin unmistakably present.

The room was closing in. I didn’t need
confirmation, it was plain that she and Miles had a past of some
sort. Whether they dated or were just…ugh, I couldn’t even think
about it. I knew the look; I knew the body language—she was
screaming jealous bitch. I tried convincing myself that nothing was
between them now, but I was still sitting between two previous
lovers, one being my current one. My mind immediately started to
race—did he love her or at least at one point? How long ago were
they a thing? Was I fool sitting between him and…oh my God, was I
the other woman?

“She’s my ex’s best friend,” Miles whispered
into my ear, my anxiety obviously apparent. “No need to worry,
baby,” he added.

I wasn’t sure where the
baby
endearment
came from that evening, but I enjoyed it. It made our relationship
more personal and was used with impeccable timing. I needed to hear
him reference me like that; I needed the assurance it provided. My
body calmed with the confirmation that this Gwen person wasn’t an
ex and I wasn’t in the middle of some lover’s spat. I was being
crazy—ludicrous to be more exact. My mind was a whirlwind of
insanity, seeing and believing things that weren’t even there. I’d
become that girl that I hated; the girl that went a little crazy
when they cared for someone… I was acting territorially obsessed,
at least on the inside. On the outside, I was just trying to
remember to use the right fork at the right time. I couldn’t fathom
the thought of Miles being with someone else; somewhere in my
subconscious, I apparently thought he’d saved himself for me his
entire youth, and now I’m keeping him captive. It was ridiculous,
but I couldn’t help it. I said it so many times, but it was
incredibly true… I was consumed; complete and utterly, disgustingly
and habitually, one hundred percent obsessed with Miles
Blackwell.

As the evening progressed, the nerves
diminished. The champagne helped, too. Once Mr. Blackwell was
finished with his opening speech and we were formally introduced,
dinner was served and I enjoyed the friendly conversation at the
table. Even Connie seemed a little lighter in spirits than she
normally did, speaking pleasantly with us all. It wasn’t until
Miles’ cell phone rang that the mood changed. The first time, he
only glanced down quickly, silencing it, but it rang again seconds
later.

Anger filled his expression as he yanked his
napkin from his lap, throwing it on top of his plate, then stood
and excused himself, putting the phone to his ear once he was out
of hearing distance. He walked away with long strides, his voice
echoing behind him, leaving our table silent with all eyes, coated
with pity, on me. Immediately, I felt two feet tall with my nerves
back and soaring higher than before. I had no clue what was going
on or who was insistent on getting ahold of him. Tonight was the
first glimpse I had of Miles’ personal life; I wasn’t sure whether
this was the norm or something completely out of character.

Miles’ mother was the first to break the
silence. “Connie tells me that you’re from Upstate; do you like the
rural atmosphere? I bet it’s peaceful.”

Swallowing hard to break through the knot
forming in my throat, I shook my head no. “No, I actually couldn’t
wait to get away. I’m from Nevada originally. Cortland’s just where
I attended college,” I told her, trying with everything in me to
seem unaffected by Miles’ brisk departure. Even though every
thought in my brain was telling me to run after him, to find out
why he left and what caused his mood to change so swiftly. I wanted
to know if it was a male or female repeatedly calling him.

Her eyes and smile widened, enthused. “Ooh,
you’re from Nevada—whereabouts? Miles Senior and I love to travel
west when the time is available.”

I swallowed again, this time hearing the swoosh
of anxiety in my ears. I was growing more and more worried with
each second Miles was gone, but I kept my face neutral, remaining
as calm as possible on the outside. “Vegas,” I answered with a
smile. “Would you excuse me a minute? I have to use the restroom.”
I needed to get the hell out. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t sit
there and act like my body wasn’t going to burst with concern.

“Oh, of course, honey,” Mrs. Blackwell answered,
seeming unaware of my discomfort. “They’re just outside those doors
to the left.”

Placing my napkin delicately on the table, I
gave a universal forced grin as I stood and walked to the doors she
motioned to. I hadn’t taken more than two steps past the doorway
when I heard Miles’ voice coming from the hallway behind me. I
stood frozen, contemplating my next move, trying to convince myself
that I’d be
that girl
again if I turned around to listen,
that I could pretty much throw any self-preservation I had away.
But again, I couldn’t help it. I was weak where Miles was
concerned. I cared…too much. In the short amount of time we had
been dating, the short time we’d known each other, for crying out
loud, I was falling. Whether it was flat on my face or into his
arms, I was falling nonetheless.

Ashamed and ruined, I turned on my heels and
followed the voice that has caused me to turn into someone I hate.
I was
that girl
, but I didn’t care.

After passing a few closed doors, I found Miles
pacing inside an open room. His hand was tangled in his hair on top
of his head and he was walking from one end of the room to the
other, visibly pissed and yelling. “I don’t give a fuck—things have
changed. How many times do I need to tell you this?”

The proper, respectful Miles Blackwell that I’d
gotten to know this week was nowhere to be seen. This Miles was
talking in a manner that I knew wasn’t work related. Even though my
mind had been playing tricks on me throughout the evening, I could
see that was blatantly obvious.

“Stay the fuck away. I’m telling you…that’s none
of your goddamn business.” He stopped mid-step, seeming exhausted
and just
done
with the conversation.

“Yes, okay, I fucking love her—”

My breath hitched, making me gasp for air,
breaking my silence. Miles turned immediately, spotting me in the
doorway, removing the phone from his ear.

“I’m uh sorry,” I spit out, nervously. “I was
going to the restroom, but then heard your voice, so…” I tried to
explain as quickly as the words fell from my mouth while he walked
towards me, placing his phone into his jacket pocket.

I could see the tension fade from his features
and the softer side become visible, though his chest was still
rising and falling faster than normal, revealing the anger still
flooding his body. I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know whether
to be frightened or enlightened. As much as his stern voice and the
words coming from his mouth were threatening and nothing like I had
ever heard come from Miles, his last statement was all that kept
playing in my head…he loved me.

“It’s okay, beautiful,” he cut me off, cupping
my face with his hands, determination in his eyes. “I should have
never left you like I did,” he continued before kissing my lips
gently. “And I’m sorry that you had to hear me like that,” he added
once our lips separated and he rested his forehead against
mine.

He was trembling yet entranced by me. I could
feel his love radiating between us. I melted. My heart was beating
even harder than before, but this time with an immense amount of
emotion rather than anxiety. I could feel him, feel every ounce of
his being, without even touching him with my hands.

“Don’t be,” I whispered before swallowing hard.
“But did you mean it?” the words tumbled from my mouth before I
even knew I was saying them.

Our foreheads separated as our eyes connected.
He licked his lips before biting down on his lower one, holding
back the growing smile that was peeking through. “Would you be
terrified and run if I agreed?”

“Why would I be terrified?” I asked,
confused.

“Because it’s only been five days.”

I shook my head, my eyes welling with tears. I
felt pathetic, but I didn’t care. I couldn’t care less about the
emotional basketcase I’d become with Miles. I loved him. In the
short amount of time that we’d known each other, I fell in love.
And yes, as Miles seemingly agreed, it was terrifyingly crazy, but
it happened. We both fell fast. It was out of our control.

I couldn’t believe my own ears when I spoke.
“Time is just a number; there are no rules on how or when to fall
as long as you’re ready when you do.”

“Are you ready?” he asked, removing any distance
between us.

I gently nodded my head before whispering, “I’m
ready,” against his lips.

***

By the time Miles and I
returned to the ballroom, the tables had been cleared and the band
was playing.

“May I have this dance, Ms. Reynolds?” Miles
asked, holding my hand up to his lips.

“You may,” I happily agreed and he twirled me
around then brought me firmly to his chest for a kiss.

We danced for hours. I’d never been into jazz,
but that night it seemed to be my favorite. Where I lacked any
formal (ok, any) dancing skills, Miles flourished. He was no
stranger to the dance floor, leading me from one side to the other.
I couldn’t remember a time I laughed so much or had a better
time.

“Where did you learn to dance like this?” I
asked when the music died down to a slow song.

“Dance lessons.”

“When you were younger?”

“From the moment I could put one foot in front
of the other,” he admitted. “It’s important that every man know how
to carry a woman on the dance floor,” he continued, standing firmly
and sounding like he was reciting a line his parents told him when
he was a little boy.

“Well, I do believe you’ve succeeded in that.” I
smiled up to him, admiration in my eyes.

“It’s not a challenge when you have a beautiful
woman to lead,” he whispered against my lips before gently pecking
them, then surprised me by pushing me backwards into a dip.

I giggled as he pulled me back up close to his
chest, kissing him again as I did.

“Miles,” Connie interrupted, tapping his
shoulder. “I need you up front,” she said, the sternness back in
her voice.

Miles looked to me, sincerity in his eyes.
“Sorry love, I apologize, but I must join Connie for a moment.”

“No worries.” I waved him off. “Do what you have
to do,” I told him, letting him out of my embrace and smiling at
Connie, who was still standing there, waiting.

She didn’t even muster a small smile. It
appeared the old Connie was back.

Before proceeding to the front where Connie
waited, Miles walked me back to our table, where his parents sat
chatting with another couple. They smiled as Miles pulled my chair
out, allowing me to sit before leaning over and kissing the top of
my head softly.