I came back to the apartment to shower and get a few changes of clothes like it was a freaking hotel. Poonam watched me as I zipped up my duffel bag and gave out a big sigh that almost sounded sad.

"I'm so proud of you."

"Thanks?" And it was a question, because I had no idea what she was going on about, here.

"You've finally found someone to fuck on the regular," she said. We heard Rakim's cackle all the way from the kitchen, no doubt in response to his girlfriend's quip. But she wasn't done yet. "You're even staying overnight. That's such a good sign, especially coming from you."

My nose wrinkled because she was referring to that long standing streak of mine, where as soon as I noticed things getting serious I would disappear into thin air like a magician. It was as if she knew that was exactly what I was thinking of doing, except that instead my body was taking me through the motions of getting ready to spend a couple of nights in a row with Miguel at his place. I flopped on my bed, weak under the weight of my doubts.

"We're moving too fast," I said. "It's been, what? Not even two weeks since we went out on a date?"

She shrugged but still sat next to me, saying, "Time is relative. Especially between you two."

I groaned because she had a point. It wasn't like Miguel and I were perfect strangers, where this would definitely feel like warp speed. I knew him since I was fifteen, and the better I got to know him the more I felt for him.

My roommate surprised me by putting her arm around me. It was a logistical challenge, with her being small, dainty and adorable—physically, at least.

"I remembered a conversation we had about him at the Magic Cafe once."

Ugh, we talked about him a lot and we still were. I was such a boring friend and about to start apologizing for it when she continued.

"Remember? Something about real couples that worked and stayed together being something like a one in a million miracle." Poonam's eyes fixed on mine with determination. "You did end up moving down to Miami to get your chance and this is it, you freaking idiot. Don't blow it."

She physically snapped my jaw up and shut my mouth up.

Holy shit. She was right, at least on account of that conversation. I thought moving to a bigger city would help me statistically, and her suggestion had been Miami, and like a prophecy, it had come true. Except that it was only my reservations what were blowing this honest to goodness miracle.

It didn't matter what had happened in the past, the missed opportunities and the distance we'd put between us. What mattered was that there was a real shot now, where Miguel had in the sweetest terms made it clear that he wanted to be with me and yet I was still questioning why. Why he'd pick me. And I knew deep down that I wanted to use that as an excuse to pull away and eventually do my usual Houdini.

Except I couldn't do that with Miguel. I had packed up those essentials in that duffel bag because a part of me wanted to hope that this really was my miracle.

I bit my lower lip, wishing the pain would keep the tears away that threatened to fall and I asked her, "How do I keep myself from ruining this?"

Poonam opened her mouth but it was Rakim's voice that came out.

"Easy, you just say yes to whatever he wants." We both turned to look at him standing by my bedroom door. He waved a spatula as he spoke. "If he wants to go out, you say yes. If he wants to stay in, you say yes and get undressed. If he's hungry you say yes, you are too. Men are simple creatures."

"Shut up, Rakim," his girlfriend said.

"Yes, dear," he said to her before turning to me. "See? It works."

I choked back a laugh. "I'm not sure this was the kind of example you wanted to give me."

He rolled his eyes. "The point is, you try to do what you can to keep them happy because if they're happy, it makes you happy."

"That is way better advice," Poonam said.

"Anyway, do you ladies want some pancakes?"

We both said a firm yes to that.

I looked at Poonam a certain way that made her toss her hair back. "What? Someone had to be the smart person in this relationship. He may be dumb but he's my miracle, after all."

I giggled, but that wasn't at all what I was thinking. I tackled her into a tight, big hug of the kind she hated but secretly liked the most. And through her yelps and shoving I told her, "I love you and thank you for being my friend."

"Ugh, sappy! I hate sap."

Despite that she topped her pancakes with more syrup than they were able to absorb. Rakim wiped her chin when the syrup dribbled down and although she complained about it, she wasn't quick enough to hide the little smile. I figured we all had our particular, sometimes strange ways of showing love. Maybe what I needed to learn wasn't that I didn't have any to give, but that I just had to find a way to show it. After all, if the grumpiest, most easily annoyed person I knew had found someone to care for her, moods and all, it must have been because one way or another she reciprocated those attentions.

I was still thinking about that when I got back to the office, but soon I had to put it to the back of my mind. Work on the new app was progressing even faster than my relationship with Miguel. The whole morning went by on a brainstorming workshop about the modularity of the concepts we wanted to show customers. They couldn't just have free reigns of absolutely every detail because the average consumer wouldn't know enough about going from concept ideation to manufacturing.

"Okay, but how do we create patterns in a way that allows a customer to combine them and create a new piece?" I asked the room, because that was the question that would make or break the project.

Mr. Diapers stood up and rolled his eyes in front of the entire design team. "Well, if we knew that I would've implemented this app idea already."

I had to hold myself back with all my might to not say that his wording was very telling. That it would always be our ideas he would take advantage of. But despite the fact that I was managing the project, he was still my damn boss. So I plastered on a smile.

"I have absolute confidence in this team here. We will find a way. We always do." I turned my back to him and met a couple of surreptitious thumbs up. "How about we take a ten minute break? We've been working pretty hard."

"Oh, yes," Marisol said while she stretched her back. "We need more coffee."

I hung back as everybody streamed out of the meeting room, which was a bad idea because that left me alone with Jean Paul. Still, I skirted around him, murmuring, "I'm just getting my stuff."

I picked up my iPad and tumbler and hoped that would be it, but of course he had other ideas. He marched toward the exit and locked the door, with both of us inside. Although everybody could see us through the glass walls and door, I was still looking all around and trying to come up with a plan b. Maybe Miguel and Angela wouldn't mind it too bad if I chucked a chair at the glass wall and made a run for it. I could allege that Jean Paul made me extremely uncomfortable, which wasn't a lie.

"I know what you're doing, you little weasel," he said, hissing every word under his breath. "You're trying to take my job from under me."

Um, yeah. Best get close to a chair. I set all my things back down on the table and raised my hands in what I hoped was a conciliatory way, but definitely moved behind the biggest freaking chair in the room.

"That's not what this is about." I modulated my voice into a soft and even tone, fit for talking to a beast. His eyes were wide and his face was wrinkled in a mask of fury, so the tone was warranted self defense. "This is a team effort."

"And you don't think I noticed it was you who rebelled?" He advanced and I started glancing out to see if anyone was seeing this. They all must have been at the kitchen though. "And coincidentally you're also the one profiting from it. Or there's a different reason, an even crazier one."

"Um." I just wanted to get out of there, but he was blocking the only exit.

"Because all of this happened when the hot new owner came on board as the CFO," as he said this I froze. The ugly smile that took over his even uglier face should've alerted me that that was exactly the reaction he wanted out of me, and yet I couldn't think or do anything about it. I feared that a strong rebuttal would make me seem guilty. He hummed deep in his throat and said, "Is he paying you back for the favors you're giving him?"

I gasped so hard that the air choked me. It just made him laugh.

"That's it, isn't it?"

"What the hell are you trying to imply?" I tore from the bravest part of me at last. "Say it to my face."

He had the nerve to laugh. "You don't have an ounce of talent and frankly you're not even attractive, but I guess you must know how to use your mouth very well to weasel your way into a big job like this. You don't deserve it and I'll prove it to everybody. Mark my words."

With one last hateful look he strode out of the room, cool as a cucumber.

Meanwhile I was hyperventilating and on the verge of a serious breakdown. I waited until he disappeared from sight and ran. On my way out the office I almost stumbled against Miguel, but the last thing I was going to do was burrow against his chest and start crying in public. I made it out of the office and into the stairs, climbing down a couple of floors before my knees gave out and I crumbled like a heap on the floor. That was when I let it all out.

Oh, this was so much worse than being bullied at Trinity. Even the worst instance, where the girls who'd made up rumors about me being a lesbian hid away my clothes while I showered, hadn't been as openly and decisively heinous. Because the lies had hurt and the way people had stared at me had isolated me, but the difference was that there was some truth in this case.

Because what if Miguel had given me this opportunity because he liked me?

I lifted up my knees and rested my forehead on them as I cried. My phone started to go off in my pocket, but I figured that was Miguel and I ignored it. I wouldn't know what to say to him right now. I needed a moment to myself to think.

Except I didn't even get that, because I heard steps and when I looked up I saw Miguel climbing down the stairs.

"What happened?"

His face was thunder in the flesh.

"Nothing," I said, knowing all at once that if I told him everything, he would do something that would confirm all of Jean Paul's suspicions.

"I can't believe you're crying over nothing." Miguel kneeled down before me, not caring that his olive trousers could get dirty. His hands delicately lifted my face. "What did that asshole say to you? I thought it was weird the way he cornered you but I didn't want to—damn it, I should've just interrupted."

"No, that would've been worse," I said through trembling lips. I held one of his hands and placed a small kiss on the palm. "Sorry to worry you, but I'm-"

Fine, was what I was going to say. Except my phone started going off again and I finally had enough. I picked up the phone, about to shut it off, when I saw that I had a total of five missed calls from the same (407) number from Orlando. A voice in the back of my mind told me I didn't have the gumption right now to deal with anything more, but it was as though my body was possessed by the same knowledge that this had to be done, just as it had this morning while I was making that bag for another overnight stay at Miguel's.

"Is this Miss Adele Holt?" a male voice said even before I put the phone to my ear.

"Yes, who is this?" I replied, looking at Miguel. He frowned at the phone in my hand, maybe mad that it had saved me from having the conversation he wanted to have with me.

"This is Gregory Schmitt." The name rang a bell, but upset as I was I couldn't place it. The man then said, "Your father's lawyer."

The phone slid from my hand and it would've fallen if it weren't for Miguel's quick reflexes. As the seconds passed I heard Schmitt call out a few times.

"Do you want me to end the call?" Miguel asked in a whisper, and I shook my head, accepting the phone again.

"Yes, sorry. I'm here," I said. "Why are you calling?"

The disapproval was clear in his voice as he continued. "I have been calling multiple times to discuss about your father."

I latched onto Miguel's hand for support, and he stayed there with me.

"What is there to discuss? It's not like I owe him money or anything."

I wasn't bitter that he'd cut me off anymore. I'd probably be paying off student debt well into my retirement, if I ever got to retire at all, but the past seven years without family drama had been a blessing. I'd found myself a better family not related by blood that, although spread all over the world, really loved and appreciated me.

"Not at all," the man said with a sigh. "I'm afraid the nature of my call isn't something quite so trivial. Your father would really like to see you at your earliest convenience to address more important matters."

I wanted to laugh. But mostly I wanted to cry even more.

"And just why would I agree to that?"

Schmitt grunted and said, "Because he is currently dying in hospice."

And with that the floor disappeared from under me, and the only reason I didn't free fall was because Miguel held me down.

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