“He bought one of those kits? Did he build it for you?”
“No. But I guess it’s the thought that counts.”
Milo made a face. “Anyone can swipe their credit card to buy something, Mads.”
“I know. But…” I shrugged. “Whatever.”
I realized it had been dumb of me to bring up Brady. Yet again, I’d proven Milo’s point that I still thought about him. I guess I had three months to stop that from happening. A change of subject was definitely in order.
Looking around at all the beautiful architecture had me wondering what type of lifestyle Milo led at home. “Do you live in an apartment building or a house back in Seattle?”
“An apartment. It’s a two-story walk up.”
“What does your living room look like?”
Milo’s forehead wrinkled. “My living room? What do you mean? It’s square. Has a couch and some other furniture, I guess.”
“What’s on the walls?”
“On the walls?”
“Yeah. Like, what kind of art do you have hanging?”
He seemed to give it some thought. “I don’t have anything on the walls.”
“Nothing at all? How come?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess I never thought of my living there as permanent.”
We stopped in front of a stunning Victorian home. The entire house was whitewashed in a soft yellow with tons of ornamental blue trim. An old man sat on a rocking chair on the wraparound porch.
I waved and called to him. “Your home is beautiful. Would it be okay if I took some pictures of it?”
“Help yourself. What’s the point of beauty if you don’t share it with others?”
I smiled. “Thank you.”
While I snapped pictures, Milo must’ve been doing some thinking.
“What does your living room look like?” he asked.
I finished shooting and lowered my lens. “The usual—a couch, love seat, coffee table, area rug, and sixty-eight framed photos of smiles on the wall.”
Milo chuckled. “You have sixty-eight framed photos of smiles?”
“I do.”
“Not whole faces? Just smiles?”
“Yup. They’re all black and white, and I cropped in on the smiles. Each one is framed in matte black.”
“Who do the smiles belong to?”
I shrugged. “All different people. Some adults, some kids. Mostly people I don’t know. I honestly don’t even remember what the rest of the face looks like on some of them. I took them over the last fifteen years at various places.”
“Do you have a favorite?”
“I do, actually.” I laughed. “How did you know that?”
Milo flashed a crooked smile. “Just a hunch. What’s it look like? Your favorite smile, I mean.”
“It’s a little girl I shot while on assignment years ago. I was covering a Jonas Brothers concert, during the first time they were popular. She must’ve been about five or six. When the concert started and the three brothers walked out on stage, she started to cry. She was really sobbing, yet she had the biggest smile on her face. Tears were streaming down her cheeks, but her smile was big enough to count all of her little teeth. I’ve never been so happy I cried like that, and I find the photo inspirational.” She sighed. “What about you? Have you ever cried and smiled at the same time?”
We started walking again, and Milo shook his head. “Not that I can recall. What else is in your living room? Do you have any family pictures on display?”
I shook my head. “No, I don’t.”
“Growing up,” he said, “my parents always had a ton of family photos hanging on the wall.”
“We didn’t have any. Oddly enough—since I’m a photographer—my parents weren’t big on taking photos. And they definitely didn’t decorate any of the places we rented. The house I’m in now is the first place I’ve ever lived that has any sort of personality.”
“So, let me get this straight.” Milo rubbed his bottom lip with his thumb. “I grew up with family photos all over the place, and my walls are now bare because I don’t feel like where I am is permanent. And you, on the other hand, grew up with empty walls and have plastered your place with photos for the first time in your life. We were definitely in pretty different places a few months ago, huh?”
I smiled sadly. “I guess so.”
Milo stopped walking. “Hold up for a minute. Get your camera back out.”
I looked around while unzipping my bag. We were still in the pretty Garden District, but I wasn’t sure what, in particular, I was supposed to be taking a picture of. “What am I photographing?”
Milo dragged a hand through his hair and stood taller. “Me.”
I laughed. “You?”
“Yeah. I want to be on your wall.”
I lifted my camera, still chuckling. “Okay, crazy man. Smile pretty.”
He held up a hand up. “Wait. Give me a few seconds. I want to think of something good so you capture the right smile.”
Milo looked away for a moment. Then he turned back and flashed the sexiest damn grin I’d ever seen. “I’m ready now.”