2.8 | Miles Away

14 | fourteen

  

1 4

(the one with the kink)

SOMETHING HAD SHIFTED between us.

Perhaps it was my earlier apology, or his surprise at having me here with him. Whatever the case was, Miles's usual hostility seemed to have taken a backseat for tonight. Unlike the first dinner, no one tried to seek Hale & Co. out for investments, so we were more or less left alone. Miles seemed content to remain by my side as we sipped champagne in companionable silence.

Companionable, boring silence.

It wasn't the man beside me but the party itself that was utterly dull. Waiters swept by with plates of hors d'oeuvres, a band played smooth jazz music, while guests engaged in mindless chatter. Miles's dad was somewhere about, and a toast would ring out every so often that we'd all join in.

"Are all retirement parties this awful?" I blurted at last, shifting on my feet. Miles raised an eyebrow at me, and I hastened to explain, "I mean, no offence to your dad, but this is a pretty anti-climatic finale to a lifetime of hard work."

"And what would you rather have at your retirement party?" he asked. "An inflatable castle?"

"Hey, if I'm sixty and still sprightly enough to bounce around, you can bet your sweet ass that I'll get an inflatable castle."

Miles shook his head, even as his lips twitched. When I shifted on my feet again, he glanced over at me and frowned. "Why do you keep fidgeting? Are you still...?"

"Hyperactive?" I asked when he trailed off. "A little, but that's not it tonight. The straps of these heels are just killing me. I think I might have a blister forming somewhere."

"Then why did you wear them?"

"Because I want to look taller," I confessed. Miles stared at me, and I shrugged. "It's a confidence thing, you know, kind of like wearing makeup. I know that I shouldn't have to, but I want to because it makes me look my best and feel more confident."

"Alright," he said slowly. "Can't you just take off the straps and continue wearing your shoes?"

I blinked. He did have a point. Besides, no one would even notice. "I didn't think of that..."

He let out a sigh and leaned down. I nearly jumped out of my skin when he nudged my foot. "Lift."

Obediently, I lifted my foot for him to examine. A sudden thought crossed my mind, and a wicked grin spread across my face. "You know, if anyone noticed us, they might think you were doing something naughty to me under the table."

There was a sudden jolt as Miles hit his head on the table, followed by a muffled curse. When he glared back up at me, a brilliant flush had cut across his cheeks, even though his expression was peeved. "What the hell, Evers?"

I giggled. It was easier to tease him after two glasses of champagne, and his reaction had been totally worth it. "Just saying it like I see it."

"Well, it's fucking not, so don't."

The laughter died on my lips when he wrapped a hand around my ankle. Within his grasp, my bone felt all too fragile, my skin all too aware of his warmth. In a manner that belied his earlier annoyance, he gently removed one strap then the other, his fingers grazing the back of my ankle down to my heel.

It was a strangely intimate act that left me breathless. I looked down at him, fighting to keep my composure. My hands itched to push back the brown locks that fell into his eyes, or bury my fingertips into his hair. Even without looking, I knew what the expression on his face would be—eyebrows knit, lips pursed, an intense focus on something so trivial.

When he finally straightened, I felt an acute loss that left me cold. I shifted on my heels, the straps now sprawled on the floor, and smiled up at him. "Thank you."

He nodded and picked up his champagne glass again.

A silence descended between us, one that was less comfortable and more tense than before. I sneaked a glance at him, wondering if he'd been affected by his actions as I had been.

Then again, probably not.

He caught me staring, and I shrugged it off with a bright smile. "Have you ever thought about how your retirement party's going to be like?"

He mulled over my question for a moment. "I'll probably go to a real castle instead of an inflatable one," he said, with a pointed look. "I visited the ice palace in Jungfraujoch once, and I've always wanted to go back there."

"Jungfraujoch..." That place sounded familiar, although I couldn't figure out why. When I did, though, my eyes widened. "That's the third place you stayed at when in Switzerland, wasn't it? It was also where you—"

—took the first step into becoming who you are now. The words, unspoken, burned on my tongue. Miles might've remembered Jungfraujoch for its ice palace and scenic views, but even though I had never been there, I remembered it quite differently.

It was a crossroad—one that eventually led me to make the most difficult decision of my life.

Ripping my eyes away from him, I pretended to study the patterns on the tablecloth. "I hear the annual ice festivals at Harbin are great too."

I felt his gaze on me, steady as ever. "One more place to go, then."

Before I could respond, a clinking of glass cut through the chatter. A hush fell upon the room. I looked up, only to find Miles's dad standing at his table with his champagne flute raised.

"Thank you all for being here tonight," his dad announced to the room. "Truly, it's been a pleasure working alongside you—although some of you may be responsible for the gray hairs on my head," he added, and there were amused chuckles at this.

I smiled too, then sneaked a glance at Miles. To my surprise, his eyes were narrowed in calculation, his lips tight in a grim line and his knuckles white around his own glass. He seemed to be expecting...something? I frowned, just as the rest of his dad's speech registered in my ears.

"—and there is only one person I know who can fill my shoes. He may not have the credentials for it, but he's proven himself in every way that counts. My son, Miles..."

My eyes widened. It was clear that his dad's announcement was unexpected, because a ripple of anticipation swept through the crowd. I turned to the man in question, wondering what his reaction would be. Surprise? Anger? Resignation?

But Miles was already gone.