Love All The Way

18| Here's to the future

The morning of my first day back, I'm determined to put on a brave face. I wake up at five – much earlier than usual – and spend the next hour preening myself.

Mulan sits on the ledge of the bathtub and watches as I slip on a dress – beige with a killer black trim. It's long but form-fitting, a dress that says I'm ready for the day, even if it turns out to be terrible. My makeup goes on next, more than I'd usually wear to work, but not enough to look anything but natural. If Milo is determined to get back with his ex, I'm determined to show him what he's missing.

Despite my distaste for public transport, the journey to work helps to calm me. I keep my head down, hands clasped in my lap as the subway jolts me back and forth. At one point, when the subway jerks and someone nearly ends up in my lap, I look up. An old woman stares back, with fluorescent pink lips and silver hair scraped back with a vibrant pink headband. For a moment, I stare hard, trying to decipher where I've seen her before, and then it hits me.

My apartment. The elevator. Milo.

Suddenly, my skin turns clammy. I've been so good at losing myself in the familiarity of routine that I haven't had a moment to think about him. But now, this eccentric, spandex-wearing woman has brought it all back.

She nods a little – a subtle acknowledgment – but doesn't say a word. It's one of the things I'd had to get used to about moving to New York, an unspoken rule that we all seem to follow; don't talk on the subway.

My eyes are on my lap for the rest of the journey. By the time I get to the office, my heart is a fast-pounding drum in my chest – one I can't seem to silence. Regardless, I stand straight, pull back my shoulders, and totter up the slippery steps and through those revolving doors.

A man from second and a woman from fourth are waiting by the elevator. I head toward them, acutely aware of the sound of my heels as they clatter against the floors. We all stare ahead, intently intrigued by our reflections in the door as we shoot up the floors.

A few moments in, in a sick breaking of elevator rules, the pair share a look. Maybe it's stupid, paranoid even, but a part of me feels as if they know what Milo did, and inside they're laughing. As soon as they get out on their respective floors, I breathe a sigh of relief. All I need is to get through this day, and the rest of the week will be fine; I'm sure of it.

The doors slide open, and I step into the aisle. Then I freeze. Not just physically but mentally. My mind goes blank, every thought I've ever had suddenly fading out of existence, and as I stare across the office, right at the man I was certain I loved, I can't breathe.

As though he feels my presence, he turns. Those dark eyes find mine, surprised, at first, then slowly they turn as stormy as that storm at the cabin. My skin grows cold beneath his gaze. I'd always thought Milo hated me before, but the look he's wearing is one I've never seen on him.

This is hate.

It's a look that shakes me right out of this trance and brings back the old Kennedy. I head to my desk, taking my time to set out my things while a red-hot fury builds inside me. What reason does Milo have to hate me? Was I the one caught with texts from an ex? Was I the one who knocked down his every defense just to make it hurt more when I finally attacked? No, that was all him.

By this time, Jess is finally setting up her computer. She looks up and smiles, but a quick glance at Milo, who I'm fervently glaring at, makes her pause. Swiveling to me, she says, "Things look tense between you. How was your romantic getaway?"

"It was fine," I say, but already my eyes start to prickle with tears, "we agreed it was a one-weekend kind of deal, though, what with the promotion and everything."