“My favorite part of baking is feeding the people I love,” Montgomery said. “I hope these recipes will help others do just that.”
We drank chai tea lattes as we spoke about life, family, and food, and it was the first time I could recall an interview of mine that derailed so wonderfully.
I left our time together with a reminder so many of us in the industry need at times—there’s life outside of the kitchen . . . and it’s beautiful.
I inhale a sharp breath, attempting to swallow down the lump in my throat as I move my attention to the recipes she worked so hard on this summer. Only now, they’re simplified and meaningful.
Banana （Nana） Bread—the one that got me back in my groove.
M&M Cookies—named after my favorite people.
And finally, the one that makes my eyes burn.
Mae’s Tiramisu—for the woman I never got to meet but who raised two amazing men. I hope I follow in your steps by being a fantastic boy-mom.
Closing the magazine, I shut my eyes because the tears are about to free-fall. Dropping my head back on the couch, I try to steady my erratic breathing.
I don’t want to get ahead of myself, but the way I’ve taken it, Miller is coming back.
She’s coming home.
I exhale a disbelieving laugh at the realization, a stupidly giddy smile living on my lips, because for the first time in thirteen days my world feels right.
“Not too concerned about those wrinkles, I see. Smiling like that.” It’s that raspy tone I love so much. The one that I haven’t heard in far too long.
My lips only curve more as I keep my eyes closed, basking in the knowledge that she’s back.
She’s fucking back.
“You should probably hook me up with some of that skin care, Miller, because I have a feeling this smile isn’t going anywhere.”
She laughs that deep throaty sound and it’s then that I finally open my eyes for the confirmation.
There she is.
Miller is leaning on the partition that separates the living room from the dining room, wearing a forest green dress that makes her eyes infinitely more vibrant. Hair down, tattoos on full display with this strapless number hugging every inch of her body. She looks so fucking good.
And she looks so fucking mine.
I adjust my glasses to confirm I’m seeing this correctly, that I’m not hallucinating after living in my own personal hell for the past two weeks.
But she’s here all right, because it wouldn’t be a Miller Montgomery entrance without her double fisting.
With champagne this time, but still.
“Double fisting again, Montgomery? A little late in the day for your drinking habits, don’t you think?”
Her knowing smile grows. “I’m celebrating.”
“Oh, yeah? And what are you celebrating?”
She holds both flutes up. “I quit my job.”
Just like the first day I laid eyes on her.
Cautiously, I rise from the couch, not quite believing that she’s really standing in front of me or that she might be back for good.
I don’t make it far, needing to take a seat on the arm of the couch because if I get any closer to her, I won’t be able to stop myself from kissing her, and I need the confirmation that she’s here to stay.
“What are you doing here, Mills?” There’s so much hope in my tone, but I need to hear it from her.
She sets the champagne glasses down on a nearby table, nervous hands fiddling. Miller is not a nervous woman, but sentimental moments are out of her comfort zone.
She steps between my open legs, and I hold her hands in mine, taking away that nervous tick. But now my hands are shaking because I’m finally touching the woman I convinced myself I’d never get to hold again.
Miller exhales with a smile on her lips. “You said it was my choice if I wanted to live up to expectations, and I do. But now, the only expectations I’m going to worry about are the ones I set for myself. And the only expectations I have for myself are to be happy and to chase the things I want.”
“And what do you want, baby?”
The term of endearment rolls off my tongue so easily, as if it hasn’t been almost two weeks since I last called her that. But in my mind, it doesn’t matter how long it’s been since I’ve seen or spoken to her. We could’ve gone years and I still would’ve claimed her as mine the moment she decided she wanted to be.
She holds steady eye contact, so brave and bold while being vulnerable. “I want to open my own patisserie and teach classes there a couple of times a week. I want to watch as many of your games as I can. I want to wake up with you every morning. I want to live close to my dad. I want to read stories to Max every night before bed. I want to try my hardest to be who he needs me to be. I want to be the one to bake him cupcakes for his first birthday at school and for all his birthdays after that. I want to have more babies with you because you are such an amazing dad. But most of all, I want to be happy and you two make me happy, Kai. And I hope I make you happy too.”