by Max Monroe
“Yes. I would like to order something. Well, flowers, to be specific.” He grins. “The order will be under Milo Ives. I should already have a profile in the system.”
Yeah, ha. I nod. I’m painfully aware of your name.
It takes a good thirty seconds for me to realize this is the part where I use the computer to take his order, and after fumbling with the mouse and the keyboard like some kind of technology reject for an additional thirty seconds, I’ve officially done my part in giving millennials a bad name. Eventually, though, somehow, some-magical-way, I manage to pull up the order screen.
“Do you have any recommendations?” he asks, and I tilt my head to the side in confusion.
“Recommendations?”
“For a birthday bouquet.”
Oh, right. The whole reason he’s here. Ha. Ha-ha-ha. My God, someone help me.
“Uh…well…we…uh… We have a white lily bouquet that a lot of people love…”
“Does that white lily bouquet also encourage forgiveness from a mother to her son because he often forgets to call and check in with her?”
He’s being all teasing and joking and charming, but I’m still too damn busy trying to recover from the initial shock of his presence and apparent amnesia of my existence to speak my given language effectively.
Bruce was right. It’s a good thing I spent all that money to major in books.
“Well…” I shrug and force a smile to my face that probably looks like I’m suffering from an ugly bout of constipation. “I guess it’s worth a shot, huh?”
“Definitely worth a shot.” He chuckles, and I swear to God, his laugh vibrates all the way from his throat, across the counter, and hits me like a bullet, square in the chest.
It’s so unfair. Your childhood crush isn’t supposed to get more handsome. He’s supposed to grow a beer gut and get wrinkles and just…not look like this.
I, on the other hand, am apparently too bland to even trigger a memory.
Thankfully, I manage to place his order without making the computer explode, and once the delivery is set and scheduled, I give him the cost. “The total is $52.30, and the bouquet will be delivered to your mom’s Florida address next Monday.”
“Perfect,” Milo responds with a soft smile as he pulls his wallet out of the back pocket of his trousers. “So, are you new to the area or just the shop?”
“Uh…yeah…sort of… I just moved to Chelsea.”
He hands me his credit card—a shiny, black, rich-person’s credit card.
And, from what I know of Milo, he is a rich person. A billion-dollar kind of rich person for whom my brother now works, in fact.
Evan is the CFO of Milo’s company Fuse, and he currently runs their Austin office.
And I am simply his best friend’s twenty-four-year-old sister, with no great career, friend, or dating prospects, whom he doesn’t even fucking recognize…
The comparison is rock-bottom depressing.
Jesus. My track record of bumbling and awkward is unparalleled. Seriously. Guinness World Records should be calling me any day now.
The transaction goes through without any issues, obviously, and I hand him back his shiny card.
“Thank you for your help,” he says and slips the card back into his wallet. “Please let Bruce and Betty know that Milo says hello.”
All I can do is nod at this point. It’s gone too far. There’s no fix for my foolish blundering now.
With a simple wave, he turns on his heels and heads toward the door.
As soon as I’m sure he’s gone, I do what anyone would do in my situation.
I lean forward and bang my head against the counter.
What in the hell just happened?
Milo fucking Ives and a hideous display of no confidence, that’s what happened.
Ugh.
Just like that, my brain is off to the races, taking me way back when, to the good old days when I was thirteen years old and doodling Mrs. Maybe Ives all over my Lisa Frank notebooks.
The damn memories burst out like a geyser.
The way I used to spend the majority of my days trying to find excuses to go into my brother’s room just to talk to Milo.
The way I was convinced I would marry him when I got older. How I was certain he would be the man to take my virginity. And how I’d even named our future kids.
Jesus.
I distract my mind with getting rid of dead flowers and rearranging the fresh flower bins, and by the time I step back behind the counter, I’ve nearly forgotten all about the fact that Milo was in the shop and didn’t recognize me.
Hah. Right.
Frustrated, I slam my hand on the counter next to the computer mouse, and the small jump is apparently enough to bring the screen back to life.
A screen that holds all kinds of interesting things.
His name.
His order.
And his phone number.
On impulse, I slide my phone out of my pocket and input the digits into my contacts.
My earlier behavior is evidence enough that I’ll never use it, but it couldn’t hurt to have it just in case.
Right?
Need MORE? Of course you do!
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First of all, THANK YOU for reading. That goes for anyone who’s bought a copy, read an ARC, helped us beta, edited, or found time in their busy schedule just to make sure we stayed on track. Thank you for supporting us, for talking about our books, and for just being so unbelievably loving and supportive of our characters. You’ve made this our MOST favorite adventure thus far.
THANK YOU to each other. Monroe is thanking Max. Max is thanking Monroe. We do this every book. Seriously. Every book. And we plan on doing this forever and ever and ever and ever and…you get the idea. ;) PS: See? We are STILL doing it. Can’t stop, won’t stop.
THANK YOU, Lisa, for being your amazing, hilarious, graciously accommodating, and eagle-eyed self. One day, we’ll be so far ahead, you won’t even recognize us. But, like, don’t hold your breath for that. LOL.
THANK YOU, Stacey, for making the insides of our book look so damn pretty. You are the absolute best!
THANK YOU, JoAnna & Sandra, for being superior Counselor Feathers. You ladies have been with us from the start, and we love you madly.
THANK YOU, Banana, for rocking our covers. And for spending lots of time covering nipples and enhancing crotches when we ask you to. It’s a tough job, but somebody’s got to do it.
THANK YOU, Social Butterfly PR, for doing So. Many. Things. You make our lives so much easier. If you were one of our kids, you guys would be our favorite child.
THANK YOU to every blogger who has read, reviewed, posted, shared, and supported us. Your enthusiasm, support, and hard work do not go unnoticed. We love youuuuuuuuuuuu!
THANK YOU to the people who love us—our family. You are our biggest supporters and motivators. We couldn’t do this without you. Although, it should be noted, sometimes you guys are hella distracting. But the ones who are the most distracting are under the age of ten, so we’re not going to hold that against you. HAHA.
THANK YOU to our Camp members! You guys are the best! THE BEST, we tell you! You’ve made Camp the coolest place to be and one of our favorite places to go to procrastinate.
As always, all our love.
XOXO,
Max & Monroe
