by Kaye Blue
How dare he!
“Fourteen fifty,” Constance said when she set the two pitchers on the table.
“Keep the change, sweet thing,” the man said as he slipped a twenty into her pocket.
“Thanks,” Constance said.
She turned and ran directly into Milo’s chest.
But he wasn’t looking at her. Instead he was glaring at the person who had put the cash in her pocket, and she could feel the tension that radiated through his body and in his expression.
She attempted to brush pass him, and he looked down at her, his dark eyes swirling with anger.
She stepped around him again, and this time he let her pass, though she felt his eyes boring into her.
She reached the bar, and saw that Callahan leaned against it, one foot propped behind him. His stance was casual, but he was glaring at Milo.
“Everything good, Constance?” he called.
He hadn’t looked at her though, still focused on Milo.
“I’m fine,” she said.
“Make sure it stays that way,” Callahan said.
His words were no doubt directed at Milo, who glared back at him, but Constance stepped between the men and Milo looked down at her, all of his attention focused on her.
“Constance, what are you doing here?” he growled.
“I’m working, Milo,” she said.
His expression darkened. “Working? You work for me. And you haven’t been in in for days,” he said.
His tone, the incredulity in it, had her seeing red, but she breathed through the anger. “In case you’ve forgotten, I don’t work for you anymore,” she said.
He snorted. “You’re not over that yet?”
She groaned.
“A pitcher and a basket of fries,” came another cry from the corner of the bar.
“I’m busy, Milo,” she said as she pushed by him and began to fill another pitcher.
* * *
Milo had been here for hours, and with each that passed had gotten angrier and angrier.
Constance hadn’t looked at him again, certainly hadn’t spoken to him, and seemed to be intent on keeping up the charade of working here.
In this place and not with him where she was supposed to be.
He could hardly believe that, and could believe even less how the very thought had him agitated.
Constance didn’t belong here. She belonged with him.
She was intent on ignoring him though.
In a couple of days she seemed to have forgotten that Milo was not a man who was content to be ignored.
He’d leave her alone for now, but Constance would be back where she belonged soon enough.
* * *
He stayed the whole night, and Callahan watched him the entire time.
“Bar’s closed,” Callahan said.
To her surprise Milo left, and Constance finally felt like she could breathe again.
“He giving you problems, Constance?” Callahan asked.
“My old boss,” she said.
“That so?” Callahan asked as he wiped down the bar top.
“Yeah,” she said.
“That all?” Callahan asked.
“Yeah,” she said.
Callahan was thoroughly unconvinced, but he didn’t press the issue. “He becomes a problem, I’m a phone call away,” he said.
“Thanks, Callahan,” she said.
They finished cleaning the bar and when Constance stepped outside she was not at all surprised to see Milo still standing at the corner, leaning against his luxury car.
“Night, Callahan,” she called, and then she turned and began walking in the opposite direction.
“Constance, get in the car,” Milo said.
Common sense told her she shouldn’t, but her feet were throbbing and besides, as irritating as the asshole was, she wanted to see him.
She walked back to the vehicle and went to the passenger side.
“So you got that out of your system?” Milo said when he pulled off.
She ignored him and instead looked out the window, watching the city as it passed.
He didn’t say anything else, and instead drove, then stopped in front of her house.
“I expect to see you at work tomorrow.”
“Then expect to be disappointed, Milo,” she said.
Then she got out of the car and slammed the door.
Fifteen
The next night Milo was still angry, but even more, he was determined.
Constance hadn’t shown up again, not that he had expected her to. Constance was many things, primarily among them, a person of her word, so when she said not to expect her, he hadn’t.
But he’d hoped.
Hoped that she’d made her point, and now would get things back to normal. Because he was going insane.
Less than a week and he was barely able to function. All a testament to Constance and what she did to him. He needed to see her.
In under five minutes, he was on his way to her house.
* * *
When Constance pulled into her driveway and saw Milo standing at her front door, her heart lifted.
She pushed the feeling down, parked, got out of her car, and began to walk toward the door with her keys in hand. She didn’t acknowledge him, but once the door was open, she looked at him.
“Milo, I—”
Whatever she had been about to say was cut off in her throat, instantly forgotten as Milo kissed her.
Before she could think to react, she began kissing him back, her entire body feeling lighter, almost weightless as his arms closed around her.
She had felt so empty before, and now she realized what it was. She knew she had missed him, but her body’s reaction, the relief she felt from his touch, shocked her.
Milo’s kiss, his touch, told her that he felt much the same, and they moved in a sea of hands and lips, clothes coming off with each step. It was only when Milo pushed her down against the bed that she realized they’d had sex in every conceivable position and place except in bed.
She hadn’t considered it before, but she was happy to get to experience this with him. She pulled him close to her, and he braced himself on his arms and then kissed her, his body stretched out above hers.
She touched him where she could, muscles and skin and strength all adding to the impossibly arousing sensations. And when he finally entered her, she raced toward climax, that first touch enough to send her over the edge.
He thrust inside her steadily, hips pushing her into the bed as he moved wildly as if in a frenzy.
A frenzy she understood.
And when he finally thrust himself inside her, Constance held him close, her soul feeling complete.
The minutes passed and she waited for the regret to come, but nothing did. There was only the pure joy of having Milo here.
She laughed. “We’ve never done this before,” she said.
“I beg to differ,” he replied, tracing his lips along her collarbone.
“I mean in a bed,” she said, giggling now.
“Good point. My house has several beds we could try out. But I think the couch in my office misses you,” he said. “It looks so lonely, sad, without you naked on it.”
Constance looked at him, a feeling of warning coming over her.
“What do you mean?” she asked, the wariness in her voice coming out.
“I can’t wait to get back to the office. Now that we’re back to normal, we have lost time to make up for,” he said.
The feeling that had hit her was intensified and she pulled out of his embrace, watched him.
“What do you mean? Back to normal?”
“You’re going to quit that bar and come back,” he said.
Suddenly, rage filled her.
“What?” She blinked at him.
“You made your point, Constance. No need to keep drawing this out,” he said nonchalantly.
Constance was so angry she could hardly breathe, and when she looked at him
he frowned.
“What’s your problem?” he said.
“You really don’t understand…”
“Understand what?”
“You thought that was all it would take? You come here, fuck me, and I would just come back, do whatever you wanted?”
He didn’t try to deny it. Constance exhaled. It was hard to believe that her heart was shattering yet again, but it was. And when she looked at him, she knew that they could never be together again.
“I’d like you to leave, Milo,” she whispered.
He started to protest, but she shook her head.
“Constance—”
“Thank you,” she said.
She said nothing else, and after long moments he finally stood. Constance held the tears back until she heard the front door close.
Sixteen
The knock at the door was insistent, but Milo ignored it.
For a moment he’d hoped it was Constance, his heart leaping. But it soon came crashing down. He thought about the look on her face, how angry she’d been, and knew it wasn’t her.
And he had no interest in seeing anyone else, knew that no one else, nothing else mattered, not when Constance was gone.
But the asshole currently banging his door down didn’t seem to get the hint. Milo stood, propelled by rage to the door, now looking forward to finding whoever was on the other side. It’d give him a chance to let loose some of his anger, give him a few minutes away from the sadness that he knew would soon be back.
“What the fuck do you want!” he yelled as he pulled open the door.
“I was beginning to think you wouldn’t answer,” Val said.
“Fuck off, Val. I’m in no mood,” Milo said.
He went to close the door, but Val smoothly sidestepped him and entered.
Milo scowled, but his friend ignored him, instead looking almost amused.
“What the fuck do you want?” Milo snapped.
“Just a moment to watch you in this sorry state. I never thought I’d see Milo Preston fallen by love,” he said, a smirk playing on his usually rough features.
“Fuck off, Val,” Milo said.
“Fuck off? That’s your comeback? You can’t even muster a denial?” he asked.
Milo slammed past Val and to his scotch decanter. He poured himself a drink, making it a point not to offer Val one.
Val was undeterred, and moved to pour his own drink, looking at Milo with a smirk that Milo wanted to punch off his face.
The only reason he didn’t was because he knew that what Val said was true.
He loved Constance.
And he’d fucking lost her.
Val looked at Milo with something like sympathy in his expression, further proof—not that Milo needed it—that he was well and truly fucked.
“No luck getting Constance back?” Val asked.
Milo shook his head sharply, then took another sip, letting the alcohol burn down his throat before he spoke. “No. She’s adamant.”
Vincent huffed a laugh. “Good for her.”
Milo glared at him. “What the fuck does that mean?”
“It means I’m glad she’s stood up to you. It’s about time someone did. I always knew Constance had more backbone than she let on,” he said.
“And what the fuck does that mean?” Milo growled, his anger rising with each second that passed.
“It means, asshole, that I always knew Constance wasn’t the meek little pushover you tried to make her out to be,” Val said.
“Pushover? Constance?” Milo replied.
That was never a word he’d use to describe Constance.
She was hardworking, dedicated, too kind for her own damn good, but he’d never thought of her as a pushover.
“So what are you going to do to get her back?” Val said, taking another leisurely sip of his scotch.
“Why are you so interested?” Milo asked.
“Boredom,” he responded, shrugging nonchalantly, an act Milo didn’t buy.
But soon, Val faded to the background and he pondered the question. What would he do to get her back?
“I’ve tried. She won’t budge.”
“Then try harder. You’ve been an overbearing jerk to that woman for years. Don’t stop now that it’s actually important,” Val said.
Milo nodded, but then paused and stared at his friend.
“Hey, why are you so convinced that I have feelings for her?” Milo said.
He’d been careful to keep those emotions under wraps, didn’t do anything that might betray how he felt.
But Val again gave that nonchalant shrug. “Hate to break it to you, Milo. But everyone knows you and Constance have been in love for years. The only people who didn’t see it was you two.”
Val polished off his drink, slapped Milo on the arm, and left, leaving him alone with his swirling thoughts.
He loved her, loved her with all his heart, and he wouldn’t give her up without a fight.
Seventeen
Constance picked up the phone on the second ring and smiled when she heard Lexi’s, “Hello.”
“Hi, Lexi,” she replied.
“Not at the bar tonight?” Lexi asked.
“No, it’s my night off.”
Not that she’d wanted it that way. She’d worked every night since she’d seen Milo last, and she had wanted to, knowing that if she didn’t she’d be alone and have to deal with the fact that she and Milo were over.
Accept that he’d never cared a fraction as much for her as she did for him.
In the face of that prospect, working at the bar until she was almost too exhausted to stand was the perfect solution.
But Callahan had put his foot down tonight, leaving Constance alone except for her memories of Milo.
“It’s good. You can’t drive yourself like that, Constance,” Lexi said.
“I appreciate your concern, Lex, but I’m fine. I’m just trying to make some extra money,” Constance said.
The words were lame lies, but that was her story and she was sticking to it.
“It’ll be okay, Constance,” Lexi said, her voice dropping with her concern.
Despite her low mood, Constance smiled. “It will be. Thanks, Lexi. Say hi to Eric for me.”
After she hung up, Constance burrowed deeper in the couch, her arms wrapped tight around her body. She tried to ward off thoughts of Milo, but as she’d known they would, they came back strong, full-force, before she could stop them.
Her cheek against his cold desk as he pounded into her.
The softness of his lips when he kissed her.
The way the color in his eyes would deepen right before he came.
Each memory intensified the throb between her legs and was an unnecessary reminder of how much she missed his touch. Deep down, she knew no lover would ever compare to him.
Worse, she knew no other man would either.
How foolish could she have been?
She’d known Milo for years, knew that relationships, feelings, were not who he was. Yet she’d allowed herself to get caught up in emotion. She’d let herself think the little looks he gave her, the way he’d stare into her eyes for a second longer, meant something. Let herself think the way his fingers lingered on her skin was his way of expressing emotion without words.
And what had it gotten her?
A broken heart.
She’d thought more than once that she’d made a mistake that first day, that if maybe she had used her brain she wouldn’t be in this position now.
But she knew that was a lie. Because as much as her heart hurt, she wouldn’t trade anything for her time with Milo. She’d treasure the memories forever, knew that she would never get over him fully.
Now, though, she had to try.
She squeezed her fingers tight and then opened them to look down at the key she held in her palm.
When she’d left the first time, she’d been so blind with pain she hadn’t thought to give it back. The same had happened when she�
�d kicked Milo out of her house.
And for a while she’d been grateful.
It was stupid, really, holding on to that key like it meant something, like it mattered, squeezing it tight as she cried herself to sleep.
But it had been her only physical representation of him, and it had helped her get through some of those darkest nights, the key representing that time when she’d been important to him.
She stared down at it and breathed out a deep sigh.
It was time to let it go.
She looked at the clock, which read 11:15.
Late, but it wasn’t unheard of for Milo to be in the office at this hour.
She’d wait another, and then steal into his office and leave the key behind.
Maybe once it was gone, she’d finally be able to start mending her heart.
It thudded hard as if to mock her, but Constance ignored it.
But she couldn’t ignore the voice in her head that said she’d never get over him.
Eighteen
Milo looked at his watch and saw that it was approaching one in the morning.
Probably time for him to go home.
He put his head down and kept working. What was the point of going home?
All that awaited him there were more hours of night, time to think about what he’d lost, time to wonder if he could ever hope to regain it again.
He tried to keep that thought out of his head and focus. He wasn’t done fighting, and he would fight for Constance again and again and again.
But what if he was too late?
No.
He wasn’t too late. He just needed to give her time, and then he could make her see reason.
But until then he was stuck in this hellish limbo, one in which each second felt like years, all because he was without her.
Milo stood when he heard his outer door open.
No one should be here at this time of night, not even Val.
He circled his desk and made his way to his open door quickly, quietly, knowing that few had access to his personal offices.
