Page 54 of A New Days Don

She joins me, and I feel my chest swell for her. I haven’t felt this unrestrained in decades.

“Believe it or not, I have other friends.”

“Could have fooled me,” she giggles when I growl into the phone, and my lips pull back, the muscles in my jaw aching as I realize that I’m smiling.

There is another minute of silence then she whispers, so quiet I almost miss it, “Is that what this is? Friends?”

Fuck no.

But I don’t say that out loud. She isn’t ready for what I want her to be. Not yet.

“If that’s what you want.” The words taste like acid in my mouth as I attempt to form each one for her.

Mila pauses again, putting the phone on the bed beside her, and I couldn’t be more jealous of the inanimate box my voice is coming out of.

“I think I’d like that.” She murmurs, and I clench my teeth to stop myself from insisting on anything more. Mila yawns, her hand covering her mouth even though nobody is around.

“Why did you become a cop?” I ask, resting back in my office chair.

“You heard what Jazzy said, right?” She responds, embarrassment clearly laced in her tone.

Oh?

I already know what she is going to say, but instead of connecting the dots for her, I prompt her to tell her story, “Yes, I did.”

My voice is tense, and my jaw begins to ache from how hard I’m clenching, but I wait patiently for her to continue.

“Before that all happened… I wanted to be an artist, much like Karmin. We were both headed for our fine arts degrees.” She may be lying close to her phone, but her voice sounds distant, as if she’s in an entirely different reality, one where she was never hurt. A lump forms in my throat as I listen to her.

“Karmin was always a better artist than I was, but I loved to paint.” She whispers, shaking her head, and I can see the tears glistening in her eyes even though she won’t let them break her guarded voice, “It was the day I turned 21…”

Then there’s a sniffle. One that tears through me and rips every piece of what’s left of my soul into smithereens.

I sit with her in silence, my vision blurring, and it’s only when something drips on my hand that I realize it’s my own tears. My fists clench with the need to be next to her. To hold her.

“Don’t move, I will be there in ten,” I murmur, already heading for the door with my keys in hand. Her house is more than ten minutes away from me, but I will be damned if it takes me any longer than that to be in her presence again.

“What? No, it’s late. I’m just exhausted.” Her voice hardens again.

“Mila,” I muse, keeping my voice lighter than my chest feels. The elevator takes its sweet time arriving. Patience has never been my virtue, but this, waiting the minute it takes for the elevator to arrive, must be the most excruciating minute of my life.

“Massimo,” she chokes out.

“I’m going to come over, and you are going to finish your story, but not before we go out for some of the best gelato Vegas has to offer,” I tell her, no room for questions or denying me.

“Okay,” she mumbles.

“Okay,” I parrot back quieter, my mind solely focused on getting to her. My gaze flickers to the illuminated numbers above the elevator door as they descend to the garage.

My phone vibrates against my ear, signifying a new call. When I pull my phone from my ear, Ren’s name flashes across the top.

I ignore it, listening to Mila’s breathing on the other side, “What gelato place is open at one in the morning?”

“You’ll find that there aren’t many things I can’t attain when I want them,” I murmur.

“So, that’s it then? You are going to take me on a date? At midnight?” I can almost hear the embarrassment seeping into her voice by the end, “Not that this is a date, date. We are friends, so I mean… it in more of a friend date?” I can hear her cringe, and a part of me is tempted to stop her rambling and justification, but I am too preoccupied with the idea of this being a date.

It’s such a silly, trivial, and mundane thing to do. I don’t think I have ever been on something so innocent as a date before, not without ulterior motives, typically to gather intel for one thing or another. But yes, this is a date. An innocent, boring date where I will sit there and hang onto her every word with no expectations.