She stares into the distance, as if the windshield is a portal to another time. And then finally her wide, full lips part and she begins to tell me a love story:
Being stationed in Key West felt like some sort of cosmic reward. Rose McIntyre had suffered through eighteen cold, dark Wisconsin winters, but in late November 1944, the US Navy gifted her more sun and warmth than she knew what to do with...
I turn to another section, further into the notebook.
Sex with Millicent is like strolling through a garden at the height of summer. Her minty mouth claims every inch it can reach. She is green and sweet on my tongue, like cherry tomatoes enjoyed straight from the vine. And when she comes apart, it’s like watching a rose bloom in fast motion, her velvety pale-pink thighs falling open like heat-dazed petals. The sweat that dampens my hair and drips down my back might as well be from an endless July day in the sun, running around my grandparents’ backyard until the fireflies signaled dusk. Touching Millicent, tasting her, being inside her is like every ambrosian memory I’ve ever collected replaying inside my soul all at once, and—
“Oh, shit,” Hollis says from the doorway. He’s cradling a brown paper bag in his arms. “Mill, I—”
“Don’t,” I say.
He walks over to where I’m standing and sits the bag of food on the desk. “I didn’t want you to find out like this. I was going to tell you, and soon. But with everything—”
“I saiddon’t.” My words come out quiet but fierce, and he visibly shivers. Good. Cold is good. Cold creates distance. “This is the new project you called your agent about, isn’t it? You intended to publish it?”
There’s a split second where I think he might lie, his eyes darting to the side as if he’s contemplating it. But he must realize he’s already in a deep enough hole. “Yes, but—”
“I trusted you,” I say, pressing my index finger into his chest. “And I know it seems like I trust everybody, so maybe having my trust doesn’t feel like a big deal to you. But it’s still a big deal to me.”
Hollis’s brow furrows. “Of course it’s a big deal. I never meant to—”
“You nevermeantto? You don’t accidentally write a book, Hollis!”
“It’s not—it’s more like a fifth of a book. A quarter, tops.”
“Yes.That’sthe important part of this. That you still have a lot of words left with which to betray me.”
“Millicent, please let me explain.”
“Okay, fine, go ahead,” I say, throwing out my hand to give him the floor. His lips part, and I wait. But nothing comes out.
“Right. It’s pretty simple, I think. You’ve been using me,” I continue. “You’ve been writing down what I’ve told you about Mrs. Nash and Elsie’s story so that you can profit from it.”
“I’m not just writing about Mrs. Nash and Elsie. It’s also about you. Mostly about you, it turns out.”
“Amazing. So you’re exploitingthreewomen instead of two. That makes it so much better.”
He runs both hands through his hair, making it stand on end, and groans. “I’m not saying this right.”
“No. You’re not.”
“It doesn’t help that you’re looking at me like you want to stomp on my balls. Can we just... Could we eat and talk about this later, when you’re less emotional?”
I narrow my eyes. I cannot believe... “What did you just say to me?”
“The wrong thing. The wrong thing is what I said.” He sits on the end of the bed and buries his face in his hands. “Jesus, I hate fighting,” he mutters. “This is exactly why I don’t do relationships.”
“Well, it’s a good thing we’re not really in one then, huh?” Igrab the slip of paper with Tammy’s number and shove it inside my backpack. I swing the strap over my shoulder and march to the door.
“Millicent, wait. You don’t—”
“I have somewhere to be. Goodbye, Hollis.”
The door makes a loud click as it closes and I look down at my bare feet on the hallway’s low-pile carpet. Ah, shit. I’m not wearing anything except that damn hotel robe. That last “You don’t—” was probably going to be “You don’t have any clothes on.” The door opens behind me and Hollis stands there, looking me up and down in a way that makes me want to either kick him in the shins or kiss him senseless. So much for my dramatic exit.
“Don’t sayanything,” I warn, pushing past him to go back inside.
“Did you even read the parts about you?” he asks. “About how you make me feel?”
