Page 54 of All Mixed Up

That could only be answered with the truth.

That was what spilled out of me for the next half-hour. All of it. I held nothing back. The confusion and pain from Dad’s desertion. The heartache and rage from Pax’s betrayal. The sweet revenge of my professional success, dealt with a double-edged sword bearing loneliness on the other side.

And the complete, magnificent joy of meeting someone who’d understood it all, without even hearing it all.

But then the fear of wondering what he’d do when he did.

No. It had been better this way. Blurting it to Milo—actually putting it into words, beyond the confines of my fucked-up head—had actually helped me comprehend all of it. Finally.

And maybe…this was also the key that unlocked the door to the other side. The portal I could use for moving on.

At least I thought so.

Prayed so.

“Thank you,” I finally told him, ending with a deep sigh. “I think I just needed to hear myself say all that.”

For a long beat, Milo didn’t answer that. At last he murmured, “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” I nodded and locked my teeth, using the clench to eek out a smile. Fake it ’til you make it, right? I believed it. I did.

Which was, of course, why I dropped my face into my hands and started blubbering all over again.

Which was why the tears came harder when Milo stepped over and pulled me up from the chair. Then harder as he hugged me close.

God. God. Portal, my ass. The only thing I’d unlocked was the black, awful well of my self-imposed grief…

And the bottomless lake of my love for Lucien Paget.

“Sh-shit,” I finally got out. “What the hell have I done, Milo? What the hell have I done?”

“Okay, sssshhh.” He pushed a wad of tissue against my nose. Rubbed my shoulders with firm strength. “First, you’re going to breathe in then out. Deeper. Deeper. Steady. Again. Good.” He sat me back in the chair then swept in to hunker in front, waiting for me to calm again. Once I had, he stated, “Second, you’re going to recognize this isn’t an unfixable situation.”

I narrowed my eyes. Well, narrowed them more, since they were likely puffed into disgusting slits by now. “What part about how I broke the man’s heart did you not hear, Mr. P?”

A soft smile took hold at the sides of his mouth. “I’ve learned a thing or two about hearts in the last few years, Miss Darienne. I actually learn new things about them every day, through the love in my wife’s eyes and the light on my son’s face.” He tilted his head, tossing some of his blue-black hair into his distinctive blue eyes. “I know they’re more resilient than we ever think, and more enduring when connected with their true, destined love.”

I sniffed. Pulled in a high sigh—and a breath of something I hadn’t experienced in five damn days.

Hope.

“You…you really think so?”

Milo pushed up, stood to his full height, and walked over to grab my sweater off the back of my dressing room door. “Come on.” He pushed the garment out to me. “Let’s take a walk.”

“A walk?” I sputtered. “Right now?”

He chuckled. “It’s Paris, Juls. It’s what people do to clear their heads. Come on; Liev has the boards for now.”

I still tried for a solid double-take, but I should’ve remembered that Milo was likely friends with Lucien for many reasons. One of those key elements? Clearly, the man never took no for an answer.

I followed him out the club’s back entrance as Liev threw on a customized dubstep mix. The guy was getting good. One day, if my production studio dream ever worked out, I’d help him lay down some tracks. Selena Gomez’s voice would sound awesome with his style.

I let my mind skip off on that tangent for a while. I liked calling them “sound threads” because one I had enough of them, they’d be woven into a new mix. These threads were especially helpful for replacing any questions I’d have about Milo’s route through the neighborhood. Oberkampf pretty much rocked every night of the week, but the misty night was keeping tonight’s rhythm to a snare drum more than a timpani boom. The vibe up and down the streets was hip but laid-back—

Ensuring my bewilderment was a contrasting crash as soon as Milo halted in front of a boarded-over building. And then pressed on the call bell.

“Dude,” I muttered. “What the hell are you—”