Page 161 of Mile High Ruin

But Mila’s birthday has lodged itself in my head now too. And, unfortunately, I know exactly who has the power to turn a quiet Sunday into something else.

Vadim finds me later in the breakfast room. I’m pouring coffee when he walks in, already dressed for the day in dark trousers and a white shirt with the sleeves rolled back.

His eyes move over me. There’s no mistaking what he’s remembering.

I look away first.

“You disappeared,” he says.

“I went outside.”

“I noticed.”

“That sounded accusatory.”

“It was observational.”

“Sure.”

He reaches for coffee.

I watch him for a second. “How attached are you to being miserable?”

He looks at me. “That’s a strange way to begin a conversation.”

“Mila’s birthday is Sunday.”

He pauses. “I know.”

“Are you doing anything?”

“No.”

I stare at him. “That’s terrible.”

“She doesn’t like attention.”

“Maybe she doesn’t like attention because no one gives her the right kind.”

Vadim’s expression closes slightly.

There’s that wall again. The one that comes up whenever Mila is mentioned.

“She prefers quiet.”

“She told me she likes cake.”

“That’s not the same thing.”

“It’s enough.”

He looks at me over the rim of his cup. “What are you suggesting?”

“A dinner. Cake. Something small. Not a circus.”

“Sloane.”

“Vadim.”