Hell, I even went with Lynsey to the hospital cafeteria one day to try to find a new vibe. When that didn’t work, I tried hanging out at the bakery by Dean’s office.
Nothing worked.
Because I already found the place that I vibed in.
Tire Depot.
But I burned that bridge. Miles hasn’t returned any of my calls or texts, and that’s all there is to it.
In my mind, I am having a Rita Hayworth moment. She was a stunning, old Hollywood actress who said men would go to bed with Gilda, the beautiful icon, and wake up to the reality, a lot less glamorous version of the dream.
Mercedes Lee Loveletter is Gilda. Kate Smith is reality.
I wasn’t brave enough to find out if Miles would accept less than Gilda, and now I’ve ruined my chances of ever knowing for sure.
I slam my laptop closed and let out a mighty growl just as Lynsey and Dean come striding out onto the back patio with drinks in hand.
Dean smiles down at me as he hands me a margarita. “Drink up, it’ll help.”
I take the glass from his hand and watch Lynsey stride over to her tiki bar to set an enormous full pitcher of margaritas down. She looks at me excitedly and says, “We’re brainstorming!”
“Plotting,” Dean corrects with a wink and takes the beach chair beside me.
Lynsey flops down on the other one, so now I’m sandwiched between my friends with drinks in hand, a far improvement to my state only a few minutes ago.
“You guys are right,” I reply and take a sip. “Maybe a new book idea is just what I need to get my mojo back. Something about a pilot or a series that features British soccer-playing brothers, perhaps! You guys know I love a British accent.”
“Kate,” Dean cuts me off.
“Sorry,” I cringe. “It’d be football if they’re British.”
He rolls his eyes. “We’re not plotting a new book series. We’re plotting how you can get Miles back.”
I deflate instantly and take a sip. “That ship has sailed, my friends. Miles made that perfectly clear.”
“Oh, stop,” Lynsey chastises. “He was upset. Guys don’t like to be made a fool of, and you made him feel like an idiot. He’ll get over it.”
“He’s not returning any of my calls,” I correct. “It’s been two weeks.”
“That’s because you haven’t made your grand gesture yet,” she says, pulling her sunglasses down off her head and over her eyes as she sits back.
“I’m sorry, what?”
“Kate!” Lynsey exclaims, hitting the side of her chair in frustration. She flails her hands out to gesture while she continues, “You write this shit, now you need to live it. You need to make a grand gesture that shows your hero you care in a deeply personal way that makes it clear that while you know you fucked up royally, you still know him. You know him and care about him, and the grandness of this gesture will prove that.”
“Wow, that was a mouthful,” I quip and take another drink.
“She’s right, Kate,” Dean interjects, and I look over and see the seriousness in his eyes. “You know he cares about you, so just talking to him isn’t going to be enough. You have to make it big.”
I bite down on a chunk of ice for a moment while pondering this. “In erotica, the grand gestures are usually like a power flip. Like, oh, okay, I’ll let you put a horsetail butt plug in me just this once.”
Lynsey and Dean erupt into laughter, and I frown back at them, stating, “I’m serious.”
They roll their eyes, and Dean says, “Think more romantic, less farm animal.”
I remain silent for a few minutes as I scroll through everything about Miles that I love. Then I think about everything he loves, and my eyes alight when I recall the night we shared in his grandpa’s truck.
“His grandpa has this old truck that he’s dying to fix up. But he’s dumping all his money into house renovations, so he’s holding off on it for now. He said the carburetor needed replacing.”
Dean’s eyes brighten at this revelation. “You just had seven months’ worth of rent open up.”
“You think this is a good idea?” I ask, chewing on my thumbnail nervously. “Can you just buy a carburetor for a car? Wouldn’t he have to like…I don’t know…repair it or something?”
“That’s what Google is for!” Lynsey squeals and reaches out to grab my computer.
“Wait, will this be emasculating?” I say, stopping her mid-Google. “If I buy some expensive part for his grandpa’s truck, is he going to be like, ‘Fuck you bitch, I pay my own way?’” Lynsey and I both look at Dean for an answer.
“Not if you give it to him naked.” He simply shrugs.
My first reaction is to laugh, but when Dean doesn’t join in, my face drops. “Wait, seriously?”
He lifts his brows and pins me with a look. “I’m not even into cars, but if you came at me naked with a carburetor in your hand, I’d probably be all over that.”
I look over at Lynsey, who gives me a shrug as well.
“We’ll figure that part out later,” I state with a laugh. “Let’s find this orgasm-maker!”
“Bro, what the hell is your deal?” my sister, Megan’s voice cuts through the phone line, waking me out of a deep slumber.
I scrub my hands over my face and check the time on my phone. “Jeez, why are you awake? It’s 6:30 in the morning. My alarm hasn’t even gone off yet.”
“I thought you worked for a living,” she retorts.
“I don’t leave my house until 7:15. I had a good thirty minutes before I had to get up, you brat.”
She sighs heavily. “Mom’s worried about you.”
I stretch my arms wide and throw my feet off the side of the bed to make my way to the bathroom. “Why?” I ask, pulling myself out of my boxers.
“Because you haven’t sent her an email in two weeks. Are you peeing?”
“No,” I lie.
“Liar.”
“I’m not peeing. It’s just the creek by my house. It runs really fast and hard in the morning.”
“You’re disgusting. Have the decency to mute the phone line next time.”
“But then you wouldn’t be able to hear me pee.” A lazy grin spreads across my face as I tuck the phone against my shoulder to wash my hands. “What’s Mom’s deal?”
“You go from emailing her on Sunday nights like clockwork to radio silence on all of us for two weeks. We talked about this, Miles. One email a week means you get to avoid the two-hour phone calls with her where she threatens to come stay with you for a week. Why are you slacking?”
I exhale heavily and make my way down the hall out into my kitchen. My timed coffee pot has finished brewing, and I pour myself a cup. “I’ve been busy.”
“Bullshit,” she snaps as I open my front door and step outside onto the porch. The sky is a mixture of blue and golden sunrise, illuminating the treetops in front of my house.
“I haven’t felt like talking, Meg.”
She groans loudly. “Don’t tell me you got back together with Jocelyn. I’m telling you, Miles, our family will not be able to stand this again. I thought she was married and had a kid anyway.”