Running From Forever

by Ashley Wilcox

  Miles chuckled again beside me, amused by his mother.

  “Such a pleasure to meet you, Kayla. And so beautiful—I can see why you caught my son’s eye.”

  My cheeks warmed at her compliment; she had the same effect on me as her son. “Thank you. The pleasure is all mine, though,” I said, smiling wholeheartedly.

  She started to say something else but Miles interrupted, reminding us that we should take our seats as everyone around us already had. She smiled once more, glancing back and forth between us both before returning to her seat beside Connie. Miles and I took two of the three other empty seats. I wondered who the empty chair beside his mother belonged to, but then, after getting a closer look at the man behind the microphone, I knew it was his, and also knew why I found him such an attractive older man—he was an older version of Miles.

  Miles’ hand found my leg below the table as his father began to speak again, calming any ounce of anxiety left humming throughout my body.

  “On behalf of the Blackwell family, I would like to thank you all for attending our annual Love With Words event. This is a foundation very dear to our hearts and are proud of the organization it has become…”

  My eyes carried across the table to Connie’s. Something filled them that I had yet to see; something I never thought ever could…emotion. Connie’s eyes were glossy. She stared at Mr. Blackwell with a heartfelt smile as he spoke about the Love With Words Foundation, a non-profit organization that seeks help and provides support for abused women and children. I was intrigued to say the least. It seemed her father’s words affected her to no end, and I wanted to know more. I needed to know why.

  Miles interrupted my thought process, leaning towards me and nuzzling my cheek with his nose before gently kissing it. His affection tonight was warming, making those now noticeable butterflies relentless. He’d transitioned from the stiff businessman that he was in the office, and even in the lobby, to affectionate and loving boyfriend. I loved it. I couldn’t get enough. With every touch and gesture, my heart grew even more. I was getting dangerously attached; more so than I had ever allowed one person to make me. Not even with Trevor did I feel like this, especially after such a short period of time. Miles was sweeping me up, changing everything about me. I wasn’t the person I once was nor the person I came to the city to become. I was more than that. I was living the dream…a fairytale.

  “Have I told you how beautiful you look tonight?” he whispered in my ear, his heated breath caressing it, sending warmth throughout my body.

  I nestled further into him, making my back touch his chest. We were both facing forward, but with no knowledge of what was being said. We were in a bubble containing only the two of us.

  “I believe you may have mentioned it,” I whispered back softly.

  Although I couldn’t see it, I could feel his grin pressed against my cheek.

  “The most stunning in the room,” he said as his lips found my ear again, this time skimming it slightly, making my body quake.

  Between his breath, his closeness, and his skin touching mine, I was unraveling; he was turning me on in the middle of a room filled with significant individuals, ranging from administrative to celebrity status.

  “Ahem!” A grumbled noise disturbed us. We both turned to see who the sound came from. A woman sitting at the table next to us scowled openly at us. “Seriously?” she asked once our eyes met.

  “Is there a problem?” Miles asked, his voice amused.

  She rolled her eyes as she shook her head. “You’re unbelievable, Miles. Really,” she hissed. She was annoyed, and also appeared to not be a fan of Miles. An ex maybe? I couldn’t be sure, but I wouldn’t doubt it if she were. She was gorgeous—beautiful auburn hair pulled back into a bun, emerald eyes, and pale skin that matched her porcelain appearance. She was exquisite, so stunning that she made me feel uneasy. Picturing Miles’ possible past with her made my stomach churn. Another thing I wasn’t expecting tonight was meeting Miles’ past, especially beautiful, flawless, affluent exes—already established in this lifestyle.

  “Lovely to see you, too, Gwen,” Miles responded, his grin unmistakably present.

  The room was closing in. I didn’t need confirmation, it was plain that she and Miles had a past of some sort. Whether they dated or were just…ugh, I couldn’t even think about it. I knew the look; I knew the body language—she was screaming jealous bitch. I tried convincing myself that nothing was between them now, but I was still sitting between two previous lovers, one being my current one. My mind immediately started to race—did he love her or at least at one point? How long ago were they a thing? Was I fool sitting between him and…oh my God, was I the other woman?

  “She’s my ex’s best friend,” Miles whispered into my ear, my anxiety obviously apparent. “No need to worry, baby,” he added.

  I wasn’t sure where the baby endearment came from that evening, but I enjoyed it. It made our relationship more personal and was used with impeccable timing. I needed to hear him reference me like that; I needed the assurance it provided. My body calmed with the confirmation that this Gwen person wasn’t an ex and I wasn’t in the middle of some lover’s spat. I was being crazy—ludicrous to be more exact. My mind was a whirlwind of insanity, seeing and believing things that weren’t even there. I’d become that girl that I hated; the girl that went a little crazy when they cared for someone… I was acting territorially obsessed, at least on the inside. On the outside, I was just trying to remember to use the right fork at the right time. I couldn’t fathom the thought of Miles being with someone else; somewhere in my subconscious, I apparently thought he’d saved himself for me his entire youth, and now I’m keeping him captive. It was ridiculous, but I couldn’t help it. I said it so many times, but it was incredibly true… I was consumed; complete and utterly, disgustingly and habitually, one hundred percent obsessed with Miles Blackwell.

  As the evening progressed, the nerves diminished. The champagne helped, too. Once Mr. Blackwell was finished with his opening speech and we were formally introduced, dinner was served and I enjoyed the friendly conversation at the table. Even Connie seemed a little lighter in spirits than she normally did, speaking pleasantly with us all. It wasn’t until Miles’ cell phone rang that the mood changed. The first time, he only glanced down quickly, silencing it, but it rang again seconds later.

  Anger filled his expression as he yanked his napkin from his lap, throwing it on top of his plate, then stood and excused himself, putting the phone to his ear once he was out of hearing distance. He walked away with long strides, his voice echoing behind him, leaving our table silent with all eyes, coated with pity, on me. Immediately, I felt two feet tall with my nerves back and soaring higher than before. I had no clue what was going on or who was insistent on getting ahold of him. Tonight was the first glimpse I had of Miles’ personal life; I wasn’t sure whether this was the norm or something completely out of character.

  Miles’ mother was the first to break the silence. “Connie tells me that you’re from Upstate; do you like the rural atmosphere? I bet it’s peaceful.”

  Swallowing hard to break through the knot forming in my throat, I shook my head no. “No, I actually couldn’t wait to get away. I’m from Nevada originally. Cortland’s just where I attended college,” I told her, trying with everything in me to seem unaffected by Miles’ brisk departure. Even though every thought in my brain was telling me to run after him, to find out why he left and what caused his mood to change so swiftly. I wanted to know if it was a male or female repeatedly calling him.

  Her eyes and smile widened, enthused. “Ooh, you’re from Nevada—whereabouts? Miles Senior and I love to travel west when the time is available.”

  I swallowed again, this time hearing the swoosh of anxiety in my ears. I was growing more and more worried with each second Miles was gone, but I kept my face neutral, remaining as calm as possible on the outside. “Vegas,” I answered with a smile. “Would you excuse me a minute? I have to use the
restroom.” I needed to get the hell out. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t sit there and act like my body wasn’t going to burst with concern.

  “Oh, of course, honey,” Mrs. Blackwell answered, seeming unaware of my discomfort. “They’re just outside those doors to the left.”

  Placing my napkin delicately on the table, I gave a universal forced grin as I stood and walked to the doors she motioned to. I hadn’t taken more than two steps past the doorway when I heard Miles’ voice coming from the hallway behind me. I stood frozen, contemplating my next move, trying to convince myself that I’d be that girl again if I turned around to listen, that I could pretty much throw any self-preservation I had away. But again, I couldn’t help it. I was weak where Miles was concerned. I cared…too much. In the short amount of time we had been dating, the short time we’d known each other, for crying out loud, I was falling. Whether it was flat on my face or into his arms, I was falling nonetheless.

  Ashamed and ruined, I turned on my heels and followed the voice that has caused me to turn into someone I hate. I was that girl, but I didn’t care.

  After passing a few closed doors, I found Miles pacing inside an open room. His hand was tangled in his hair on top of his head and he was walking from one end of the room to the other, visibly pissed and yelling. “I don’t give a fuck—things have changed. How many times do I need to tell you this?”

  The proper, respectful Miles Blackwell that I’d gotten to know this week was nowhere to be seen. This Miles was talking in a manner that I knew wasn’t work related. Even though my mind had been playing tricks on me throughout the evening, I could see that was blatantly obvious.

  “Stay the fuck away. I’m telling you…that’s none of your goddamn business.” He stopped mid-step, seeming exhausted and just done with the conversation.

  “Yes, okay, I fucking love her—”

  My breath hitched, making me gasp for air, breaking my silence. Miles turned immediately, spotting me in the doorway, removing the phone from his ear.

  “I’m uh sorry,” I spit out, nervously. “I was going to the restroom, but then heard your voice, so…” I tried to explain as quickly as the words fell from my mouth while he walked towards me, placing his phone into his jacket pocket.

  I could see the tension fade from his features and the softer side become visible, though his chest was still rising and falling faster than normal, revealing the anger still flooding his body. I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know whether to be frightened or enlightened. As much as his stern voice and the words coming from his mouth were threatening and nothing like I had ever heard come from Miles, his last statement was all that kept playing in my head…he loved me.

  “It’s okay, beautiful,” he cut me off, cupping my face with his hands, determination in his eyes. “I should have never left you like I did,” he continued before kissing my lips gently. “And I’m sorry that you had to hear me like that,” he added once our lips separated and he rested his forehead against mine.

  He was trembling yet entranced by me. I could feel his love radiating between us. I melted. My heart was beating even harder than before, but this time with an immense amount of emotion rather than anxiety. I could feel him, feel every ounce of his being, without even touching him with my hands.

  “Don’t be,” I whispered before swallowing hard. “But did you mean it?” the words tumbled from my mouth before I even knew I was saying them.

  Our foreheads separated as our eyes connected. He licked his lips before biting down on his lower one, holding back the growing smile that was peeking through. “Would you be terrified and run if I agreed?”

  “Why would I be terrified?” I asked, confused.

  “Because it’s only been five days.”

  I shook my head, my eyes welling with tears. I felt pathetic, but I didn’t care. I couldn’t care less about the emotional basketcase I’d become with Miles. I loved him. In the short amount of time that we’d known each other, I fell in love. And yes, as Miles seemingly agreed, it was terrifyingly crazy, but it happened. We both fell fast. It was out of our control.

  I couldn’t believe my own ears when I spoke. “Time is just a number; there are no rules on how or when to fall as long as you’re ready when you do.”

  “Are you ready?” he asked, removing any distance between us.

  I gently nodded my head before whispering, “I’m ready,” against his lips.

  ***

  By the time Miles and I returned to the ballroom, the tables had been cleared and the band was playing.

  “May I have this dance, Ms. Reynolds?” Miles asked, holding my hand up to his lips.

  “You may,” I happily agreed and he twirled me around then brought me firmly to his chest for a kiss.

  We danced for hours. I’d never been into jazz, but that night it seemed to be my favorite. Where I lacked any formal (ok, any) dancing skills, Miles flourished. He was no stranger to the dance floor, leading me from one side to the other. I couldn’t remember a time I laughed so much or had a better time.

  “Where did you learn to dance like this?” I asked when the music died down to a slow song.

  “Dance lessons.”

  “When you were younger?”

  “From the moment I could put one foot in front of the other,” he admitted. “It’s important that every man know how to carry a woman on the dance floor,” he continued, standing firmly and sounding like he was reciting a line his parents told him when he was a little boy.

  “Well, I do believe you’ve succeeded in that.” I smiled up to him, admiration in my eyes.

  “It’s not a challenge when you have a beautiful woman to lead,” he whispered against my lips before gently pecking them, then surprised me by pushing me backwards into a dip.

  I giggled as he pulled me back up close to his chest, kissing him again as I did.

  “Miles,” Connie interrupted, tapping his shoulder. “I need you up front,” she said, the sternness back in her voice.

  Miles looked to me, sincerity in his eyes. “Sorry love, I apologize, but I must join Connie for a moment.”

  “No worries.” I waved him off. “Do what you have to do,” I told him, letting him out of my embrace and smiling at Connie, who was still standing there, waiting.

  She didn’t even muster a small smile. It appeared the old Connie was back.

  Before proceeding to the front where Connie waited, Miles walked me back to our table, where his parents sat chatting with another couple. They smiled as Miles pulled my chair out, allowing me to sit before leaning over and kissing the top of my head softly.

  “I’ll be right back,” he whispered before turning to meet Connie beside the stage.

  I smiled in his mother’s direction when I overheard her joyfully say to the other woman, “Isn’t it a sight to see?”

  She had no clue the extent of that statement. It was quite a sight to see for both of us. The Kayla Reynolds that most people knew wouldn’t be behaving in this dignified manner. She wouldn’t be twinkletoeing around on a dance floor accompanied by a rich executive whom she fell in love with in less than a week. No, most people would call bullshit on that whole scenario, but it was true, and apparently it was out of character for Miles, too. I hadn’t had time yet to find out why, but I’m sure I would. Miles and I had a future, I was sure of it. We complimented each other nicely and I knew it was only up from there.

  The sound of Miles’ voice broke my thought process, bringing my eyes to the front of the room where he and Connie stood center stage where their father did earlier.

  “Connie and I would like to thank you all for coming tonight. It was just brought to our attention between the silent auction and your generous donations, we were able to raise over three million dollars.”

  My mouth dropped, hearing his announcement. Three million dollars? I remembered when our sorority raised over a thousand dollars for the local Ronald McDonald House; we thought that was amazing. This event raised over three million in one
night! It was incredible, but also leveling. I was in a whole new world, on a whole new level, playing on a whole new baseball field.

  He then continued to touch base on other topics pertaining to ETV and the organization. Connie didn’t speak. She only stood there, faking a smile when necessary and letting out a sugar-coated chuckle when suitable. Connie was the epitome of an executive robot—all business all the time. She was the person I originally pictured myself becoming when I moved to the city, but I’m so glad it didn’t turn out that way. Yes, I wanted the business look—the attire, the status, and the respectability of it all, but I couldn’t be that stiff, that tailored. That lonely. I wanted to have my cake and eat it too. I wanted the whole package deal, exactly what Miles was. He was proper, respected, and authoritative, but also had a fun-loving feel. I wondered how he and Connie could be so different being raised under the same roof. They were nothing alike. At least not in my eyes.

  It was after midnight when we said our goodbyes to everyone and made our way out to the awaiting limo. The cameras were less invasive, only a few had camped outside for the duration of the event, and the same limousine driver stood at the end of the red carpet, holding the door open for us. I wondered if he’d been waiting out there the whole time. Obviously not standing with the door open, but was he sitting out there, by himself, for the entire five hours that we were inside?

  “Thank you, Malcolm,” Miles said before entering the limo behind me. Malcolm didn’t answer, just nodded his head in acknowledgement. “Shall we have a toast?” Miles asked once we were settled inside, reaching for the chilled champagne and two flutes sitting next to it.

  I looked at him, puzzled. “What’s the celebration?”

  “To a successful event.” He popped the cork, making me jump. “Our first together!” He began to pour some in each glass. “And to confessions,” he murmured to himself, handing me my glass and moving in closely.