My Favorite Souvenir(6)

His tone gave me an inkling that maybe he’d learned that firsthand.

“Speaking from personal experience?” I asked.

“As a matter of fact, yes. The same thing happened with my brother. It was a little different than your situation, because he actually cheated on my sister-in-law with a co-worker. She forgave him, took him back, and he thanked her by doing it again, that time with a different co-worker. My brother has always been a dick, even when we were kids. I love him, but he’s just a dick. People don’t change, Maddie. They don’t. And if this guy could let you go so easily once, he will fuck up again. He doesn’t deserve you.”

A part of me wanted to believe he was wrong. “Well, I can’t help it if I’m still holding out hope that I didn’t waste the past few years of my life.”

Milo shrugged. “People make bad investments all the time. You chalk it up to a mistake and move on. You don’t linger over a dead horse just because you rode the shit out of it.” He paused. “Maybe that’s not the best terminology. But anyway, dead horse? You step over it and move on. You know what happens if you try to wake that dead horse?”

“What?”

“It bites you in the ass.”

I chuckled. “Okay. I get your point. But you know, moving on from a relationship that’s lasted several years is easier said than done. But I do thank you for your advice.”

He winked. “That’s what big brothers are for.” He sipped his beer. “Anyway, tell me why you think you’re so boring.”

I stared down into my glass. “I don’t even recognize myself anymore, Milo.”

“Aside from the fact that you’re impersonating a Hooker, what do you mean by that?”

That made me laugh. “For the record, we’re both impersonating Hookers, and it’s a long story.”

He pretended to look down at his watch again. “Once again, I got time. In case you haven’t checked the weather recently, neither of us is going anywhere anytime soon.”

“I suppose that’s true.”

He smiled. “So, talk to me.”

I let out a long sigh. “Okay, well, to understand me, you’d have to know that my parents were hippies.”

He crossed his arms. “Peace and love—nice.”

I nodded. “We moved around a lot when I was growing up. I always resented it—you know, having to change schools and everything. But as I got older, I became accustomed to the lifestyle. After college, I basically turned into my parents.”

“You became a hippie?”

“Not exactly. But I was never in one place. I’m a photographer. Years ago, right out of school, I worked for a music magazine and traveled the country shooting various bands. I’ve definitely seen my share of tour buses. And let me tell you, back then this girl liked to party right along with everyone else. It was fun for a long time, until—”

He finished my sentence. “Until it wasn’t.”

“Yeah, exactly. It hit me at a certain point that I was definitely becoming my parents, and while that had suited me just fine in my early twenties, it was starting to get old.”

“So you quit that job?”

“Not immediately. I met my ex-fiancé at a concert, ironically.”

Milo nodded. “The day the music died…”

That made me laugh again. Or maybe it was the alcohol.

“He was everything I wasn’t: conservative with roots. And for the first time in my life, I started to believe I wanted that type of a life instead of the one I had. I think I was really in search of a feeling of safety more than anything else.”

He leaned back and made himself more comfortable in his seat. “I can understand that.”

“His parents have been married for thirty-five years, and he still goes to his childhood home every Sunday night for a family dinner. I had no real home base, so I decided to quit my job to be with him.”

“You stopped taking pictures?”

“No. He helped me open a private studio. It’s become a thriving school-photography business. I’m the school photo queen of my town.”

“Riveting. Do you put those fake blue and pink laser beams in the backgrounds of your photos?”

“Of course not! That’s so eighties. I think my mom had a school photo like that, though.”

“I think everyone’s mom probably did. Don’t forget the profile face floating in the upper corner of the picture.” He laughed.

“I can proudly say that my photos are a lot classier than that.”

“In all seriousness, good for you for finding a way to profit from your talents.”

I shrugged. “School photography is far from creative, but it pays the bills and helps maintain the cushy life I’ve become accustomed to.”

He seemed to see right through me. “But sometimes you want to trade cushy for dirty again, don’t you?”

The way he said dirty sent a chill down my spine. I loved the way it sounded coming out of this guy’s mouth.

I could feel how red my face must have turned. “God, we’ve spent this entire time talking about me. I haven’t even asked you what the hell you’re doing in Vail.”

“I’m from here, actually. Grew up in Vail.”