Overtime

16: The Ex

Miles talked me into going back to his place after we left the bar last night. We raced back to my apartment, and I hurriedly packed a bag with a change of clothes, not bothering to text anyone where we went. They know. They also have my location if they are worried.

He just left for his morning run as I lay in his bed with a sex hangover. I don't understand how he even has the energy to run five miles after we spent hours tasting each other all night. Fuck, that guy is good in bed. It's embarrassing how he can make me melt in a matter of minutes.

I stare out the window of the rolling Tennessee hills known as his backyard, wanting to spend the rest of my life here. The man didn't even own curtains or blinds; it didn't bother me. No one else was around, though he did mention that the windows were all tinted not to be able to see in from outside, which was smart considering he is a celebrity. I'd kill to live with a view like this. Quiet and pretty. No sound of police cars blaring down the street. No cigarette smells from the neighbors below. No drunks and druggies begging to be let inside. I should have been an athlete. Maybe I could have a place like this of my own.

I finally decide to climb out of the bed, grabbing one of Miles's t-shirts from his drawer and walking into the living room. I join Banjo on the couch, where he also stares out the large windows of the outside world, looking for predators to chase. I rub his belly as he demands, taking in the house as I couldn't do that when Miles was around since his tongue was always stuck down my throat.

He really is a clean freak. Not one thing is out of place in this house. But maybe he has a maid.

The front door opens and slams shut, alerting me of his return. Banjo refrains from me to look up, commanding I keep petting him. As he gets closer, something feels off. His footsteps sound different. "Miles?" A woman's voice carries throughout the house. I freeze. Please be the maid. Please be the maid.

I see a shadow walk into the living room and dare peek my head over the couch, where a blonde woman comes into view. Shit. Shit. Shit. Maybe he has a hot maid. Or a sister. God, I know nothing about this man except for his exceptional bed skills and the fact that he plays football. "Um, hello," I say, sitting straight on the couch.

Her face falls, and she takes one swift look at me, and suddenly, I wish I wasn't in his t-shirt with no underwear on. At least I put my hair in a bun; it could still be a rat's nest. "You're the girl in the pictures," she says, but I have no clue if it was a question or a bitchy comment.

She walks around the couch and stands in front of me with her hands on her hips and a pissed-off look. Is she waiting for me to answer? "Who are you?" I say, but I already have a feeling who she is.

"I'm Miles's fiancé." Oh. Fiancé? He never mentioned he was engaged.

It would be great if he would walk in the door right now. "He's on his run." Don't show fear. That's what she wants. Right?

"I'll wait," she says, walking away into the kitchen, where she opens the fridge looking inside.

I take the moment to walk back into the bedroom, run, and put my pants on. I grab my phone and text Amber: SOS. FIANCÉ has arrived. I sit back on the couch and wait for what else she wants to say.

Where is that son of a bitch? He has to show up sometime soon unless he's too afraid to come inside to see what I've found out.

My phone buzzes, and Amber has texted, Head high, Princess. Thanks for the help.

I look at her and see her pouring a cup of coffee. She seems too casual for this. What is happening?

The front door slams open and shut in a hurry, "Caroline, what the hell are you doing here?" Miles's voice carries across the house. He walks down the hall, making eye contact with me first. He doesn't say anything but pinches the bridge of his nose in frustration before finding her in the kitchen.

She sips on her coffee, "taking back what's mine." My eyes widened, and I looked to Banjo, who looked back at me. Obviously, he didn't miss her because he hadn't moved.

"No." He looks attractive when he's angry. But maybe I think he's attractive because he's sweaty and shirtless. "Get out."

"I think you should explain what is going on here," she says, pointing to me. Is this the girl who got knocked up? I can't see her stomach to see if she has a baby bump.

My eyes widened as Miles walked over to me. He grabs my hand and stands me up, dragging me towards the kitchen. He puts his arm around my waist, pulling me into him, "She is my girlfriend." Hold up—girlfriend? Did I agree to this last night or something? In my sleep? "Now, tell me why the hell you're here."

She purses her lips and stares me down, waiting for me to break. Sorry, I'm not that girl. She will be the one to break. And once she does, she begins crying.

Miles looks down at me, "I'm sorry," he mouths. I bite my lip, trying to prevent myself from laughing at the situation.

He says nothing but waits for her to finish her meltdown. "I thought if I showed up back here, you'd fall in love with me again."

Miles blinks. "Really?"

"I don't know," she cries. "I don't know what I'm doing." Her face falls into her hands as she falls over the island table.

Miles sighs, looking down at me before letting go of me and stepping forward. He leans across on the other side of the island, and I take a step back, leaning against the couch where Banjo still lays, watching the drama unfold from here.

Miles says something I can't quite understand, and she cries louder and harder. She yanks at her hair before saying, "I lost the baby, Miles." My eyes widened when we made eye contact, and I pretended to look at my nails. "He left me." Miles still says nothing as she paces in the kitchen, "I don't have anything. I don't have a job or a house. I had to move back in with my fucking parents. How fucking embarrassing is that?"

"You cheated on me and got knocked up by another man. I don't know what you want me to say," he pauses, "are you wearing the fucking ring I told you to give back to me? You are fucking crazy!"

She cries, shoving it off her finger and throwing it at him. It bounces off him, landing on the floor. I watch roll across the room towards me as she screams and runs out the door. I bend down and pick it up as Miles walks back towards me, his arms stretched over his head. He traps me in with his arms on either side of the couch, and I wonder if I'm fucking crazy or if I like the smell of his sweat. He sighs, "I'm so fucking sorry that happened."

I lightly smile because I do not know how to process what just happened. "Girls are just obsessed with you."

"The only girl I want obsessed with me is you."

I bite back a genuine smile, "can we talk about how you called me your girlfriend?"

He closes his eyes and sighs, "I'm sorry about that. That's not how I wanted to ask or tell. But I really do want you to be my girlfriend."

"Is that going to happen again? Like other women breaking into your house?" I joke with him.

"I don't think so, but I would think it was fair if I had to meet one of your exes begging for you back next."

I laugh, "no thanks. I have a restraining order against one of them."

"Actually?"

"Yeah, he tried to stab me when I broke up with him," I shrug, earning a concerned look from him, "But anyways, I'd love to be your girlfriend. I think we definitely need to learn more about each other, though. Lots of unshared stories."

He scoffs, "Apparently. How about you go first."

He drags me to the other side of the couch, but I stop him before he pulls me down on top of him. "Shouldn't you shower before you get your sweat all over me?"

He groans, "Fine. We'll start story time in the shower," and pulls me into the bathroom, where we peel our clothes off and step in.