“Shut the fuck up,” I say.

“And he's still in love with her, folks,” he says with a smirk.

“It’s over.”

“If you say so,” he says with a shrug.

What can I do?

Fly to New York and beg for forgiveness?

Thirty-One

Miller

When I get home, the concierge has a note from Mom.

Call me as soon as you arrive, I can’t believe you kept this a secret from us. 

A secret?

Huh, if she only knew. I keep my entire life hidden from her. Since the gym is open, I spend a couple of hours working out the frustration. Just seeing Thomas, I was reminded of Claire and how much I fucking miss her.

Nothing I do takes away the tension.

After I take a shower, I call Mom. The last thing I need is for her to arrive at my place unannounced. I hope this has something to do with Lola and nothing to do with my personal life.

This new wave of lectures about, “You need a stable life. You can’t say you’re happy when there’s so much uncertainty about your future.” Or my favorite, “What about children? I’m not getting any younger.”

Seriously, like she needs more grandchildren.

Three is plenty, Mom. 

“I’m never going to forgive you,” she states when she answers the phone.

Oh fuck, what did I do? Her nonsense is the cherry on top of my already fucked-up day. She sounds upset. No, raging because I never tell her anything.

“Hello, Mom.”

“How’s Claire?” she asks, and I grunt.

Who the fuck knows Mom? 

I haven’t seen for a long time. Too many months to count. I pour myself a shot of single malt and head to the terrace. Hopefully, there’s no one next door.

The ditzy girl who was moving in earlier today seems like one of those health nuts who’d go to bed early. Fuck, that woman is going to drive me crazy. She was way too chatty and overwhelming.

And flirty.

I hate that. I barely paid attention to what she said. God help me if I have to put up with her for long. I hope she has a boyfriend because the last single woman who moved across the hall was annoying as hell.

“Claire is doing wonderful, Mom,” I lie because that’s all I do in my life when it comes to Claire.

Lie, lie, lie.

My best hits are:

“Sorry my girlfriend and I are exclusive.” “Yes, she lives in New York, but we make it work.” “We’re taking it slow, but we’re solid.”

“Milo, I understand you don’t like us to intrude in your relationship, but you could’ve told me,” she says. “I hate surprises and finding out something as big as what you two are doing is unacceptable.”