Finding Cinderella Maybe Someday

MILES
Six years earlier
My room is Rachel’s now. Rachel’s room is my room.
We graduated. We moved in together. We’re in college now.
See? We’ve got this.
Ian brings in the last of the boxes from the car. “Where do
you want this one?” he asks.
“What is it?” Rachel asks him.
He tells her it looks like a box full of her bras and underwear.
She laughs and tells him to set it next to my dresser. Ian
does.
Ian likes Rachel. Ian likes that she’s not holding me back.
Ian likes that she wants me to get my degree and finish
flight school.
Rachel wants me to be happy. I tell Rachel I’ll be happy as
long as I have her.
She tells me, “Then you’ll always be happy.”
My dad still hates me. My dad doesn’t want to hate me.
They’re trying to accept it, but it’s hard. It’s hard for
everyone.

---

Rachel doesn’t care what everyone thinks. She only cares
what I think, and I only think about Rachel.
I’m learning that no matter how difficult a situation is,
people learn how to adapt to it. My dad and her mom may
not approve, but they’ll adapt.
Rachel may not be ready to be a mom, and I may not be
ready to be a dad, but we’re adapting.
It’s what has to happen. If people want peace within
themselves, it’s necessary.
Vital, even.
• • •
“Miles.”
I love my name when it comes out of her mouth. She
doesn’t waste it. She only says it when she needs
something. She only says it when it needs to be said.
“Miles.”
She said it twice.
She must really need something.
I roll over, and she’s sitting up in bed. She looks at me,
wide-eyed.
“Miles.” 
Three times.
“Miles.” 
Four.
“It hurts.”
Shit.
I jump out of bed and grab our bag. I help Rachel change
clothes. I help her to the car.
She’s scared.
I might be more scared than she is.
I hold her hand while we drive. I tell her to breathe. I don’t
know why I tell her this. Of course, she knows to breathe.
I don’t know what else to tell her.
I feel helpless.
Maybe she wants her mom.
“Do you want me to call them?”
She shakes her head. “Not yet,” she says. “After.”

---

She just wants it to be us. I like this. I just want it to be us,
too.
A nurse helps her out of the car. They take us to a room. I
get Rachel whatever she needs.
“Do you need ice?”
I get it for her.
“Do you want a cold rag?”
I get it for her.
“Do you want me to turn off the TV?”
I turn it off.
“Do you want another blanket, Rachel? You look cold.”
I don’t get her a blanket. She’s not cold.
“Do you want more ice?”
She doesn’t want more ice.
She wants me to shut up.
I shut up.
“Give me your hand, Miles.”
I give it to her.
I want it back.
She’s hurting it.
I let her keep it anyway.
She’s quiet. She never makes a sound. She just breathes.
She’s incredible.
I’m crying. I don’t know why.
I love you so goddamn much, Rachel.
The doctor tells her she’s almost done. I kiss her on the
forehead.
It happens.
I’m a dad.
She’s a mom.
“It’s a boy,” the doctor says.
She’s holding him. She’s holding my heart.
He stops crying. He tries to open his eyes.
Rachel cries.
Rachel laughs.
Rachel tells me thank you.

---

Rachel tells 
me
thank you. Like she wasn’t the one who
created this.
Rachel is crazy.
“I love him so much, Miles,” she says. She’s still crying. “I
love him so, so much.”
“I love him, too,” I tell her. I touch him. I want to hold him,
but I want her to hold him even more. She looks beautiful
holding him.
Rachel looks up at me. “Will you please tell me his name
now?”
I was hoping he would be a boy so I could have this
moment.
I was hoping I could tell her what her son’s name is,
because I know she’ll love it.
I hope she remembers the moment she

---

became

---

my
everything.
Miles is going to show you the way to Mr. Clayton’s class,
Rachel.
“His name is Clayton.”
She begins to sob.
She remembers.
“It’s perfect,” she says, her words mixed with tears.
She’s crying too hard now. She wants me to hold him.
I sit on the bed with her and take him.
I’m holding him.
I’m holding my son.
Rachel rests her head on my arm, and we stare at him.
We stare at him for so long. I tell Rachel he has her red hair.
Rachel says he has my lips. I tell Rachel I hope he has her
personality. She disagrees and says she hopes he’s just like
me.
“He makes life so much better,” she says.
“He sure does.”
“We’re so lucky, Miles.”
“We sure are.”
Rachel squeezes my hand.
“We’ve got this,” Rachel whispers.
“We’ve 
so
got this,” I tell her.
Clayton yawns, and it makes us both laugh.
Since when did yawns become so incredible?
I touch his fingers.
We love you so much, Clayton.

---

chapter twenty-seven
TATE
I drop down into the chair beside Cap, still dressed from
head to toe in my scrubs. As soon as I got home from work, I
studied for two hours straight. It’s already after ten, and I
haven’t even had supper yet, which is why I’m sitting next
to Cap right now, because he’s getting to know my habits
and had a pizza ordered for the two of us.
I hand him a slice and grab my own, then shut the lid and
set it on the floor in front of me. I shove a huge bite into my
mouth, but Cap is staring down at the slice in his hand.
“It’s really sad when pizza can make it to you faster than
the police¸” he says. “I just ordered this ten minutes ago.”
He takes a bite and closes his eyes like it’s the best thing
he’s ever tasted.
We both finish our slices, and I reach for another one. He
shakes his head when I offer him a second slice, so I put it
back in the box.
“So?” he says. “Any progress between the boy and his
friend?”
It makes me laugh that he constantly refers to Miles as
the boy
. I nod and respond with a mouthful. “Kind of,” I say.
“They had a successful game night, but I think it was only

---

successful because Miles pretended I wasn’t there the whole
time. I know he’s trying to respect Corbin, but it kind of
makes me feel like shit in the process, you know?”
Cap nods like he understands. I’m not sure that he does,
but I like that he always listens so attentively anyway. “Of
course, he texted me the entire time he was in the living
room sitting next to Corbin, so I guess I have that. But then
there are weeks like this week when he’s not even in the
same state, and it’s like I don’t even exist to him. No texts.
No phone calls. I’m pretty sure he only thinks about me
when I’m within ten feet of him.”
Cap shakes his head. “I doubt that. I bet that boy thinks
about you a lot more than he lets on.”
I’d like to believe those words to be true, but I’m not so
sure they are.
“But if he doesn’t,” Cap says, “you can’t be mad at him for
it. Wasn’t part of the agreement, now, was it?”
I roll my eyes. I hate that he always brings me back to the
fact that Miles isn’t the one breaking rules or agreements.
I’m the one with the problems in our arrangement, and
that’s no one’s fault but my own.
“How did I get myself into this mess?” I ask, not even
needing an answer. I know how I got myself into this mess. I
also know how to get out of it . . . I just don’t want to.
“You ever heard that expression, ‘When life gives you
lemons . . .’?”
“Make lemonade,” I say, finishing his quote.
Cap looks at me and shakes his head. “That’s not how it
goes,” he says. “When life gives you lemons, make sure you
know whose eyes you need to squeeze them in.”
I laugh, grab another slice of pizza, and wonder how in the
hell I ended up with an eighty-year-old man as my best
friend.
• • •

---

Corbin’s home phone never rings. Especially after midnight.
I throw the covers off and grab a T-shirt, then pull it over my
head. I don’t know why I bother getting dressed. Corbin’s
gone, and Miles isn’t due back until tomorrow.
I make it to the kitchen on the fifth ring, right as the
answering machine picks up. I cancel the message, then put
the phone to my ear.
“Hello?”
“Tate!” my mother says. “Oh, my God, Tate.”
Her voice is panicked, which immediately causes me to
panic. “What is it?”
“A plane. A plane crashed about half an hour ago, and I
can’t get through to the airline. Have you talked to your
brother?”
My knees meet the floor. “Are you sure it was his airline?”
I ask her. My voice sounds so terrified I don’t even recognize
it. It sounds as terrified as hers did the last time this
happened.
I was only six, but I remember every single detail as if it
happened yesterday, down to the moon-and-star pajamas I
was wearing. My father was on a domestic flight, and we
had turned on the news right after dinner and saw that one
of the planes had gone down due to engine failure.
Everyone on board was killed. I remember watching my
mother on the phone with the airline, hysterical, trying to
find out information on who the pilot was. We found out it
wasn’t him within the hour, but that hour was one of the
scariest of our lives.
Until now.
I rush to my room and grab my cell phone off my
nightstand and immediately dial his number. “Have you
tried calling him?” I ask my mother as I make my way back
to the living room. I try to make it to the couch, but for some
reason, the floor seems more comforting. I kneel down
again, almost as if I’m in prayer mode.
I guess I am.

---

“Yes, I’ve been calling his phone nonstop. It’s just going to
voice mail.”
It’s a stupid question. Of course, she’s tried calling him. I
try again anyway, but his phone goes directly to voice mail.
I try to reassure her, but I know it’s pointless. Until we
hear his voice, reassurance won’t help. “I’ll call the airline,” I
tell her. “I’ll call you back if I hear anything.”
She doesn’t even say good-bye.
I use the home phone to call the airline and my cell phone
to call Miles. It’s the first time I’ve ever dialed his number.
I pray that he answers, because as much as I’m scared to
death for Corbin, it’s also running through my head that
Miles works for the same airline.
My stomach is sick.
“Hello?” Miles says on the second ring. His voice sounds
hesitant, like he’s unsure why I’m calling.
“Miles!” I say, both frantic and relieved. “Is he okay? Is
Corbin okay?”
There’s a pause.
Why is there a pause?
“What do you mean?”
“A plane,” I say immediately. “My mom called. There was
a plane crash. He’s not answering his phone.”
“Where are you?” he says quickly.
“The apartment.”
“Let me in.”
I walk to the door and unlock it. He pushes the door open
and still has the phone to his ear. When he sees me, he pulls
the phone away, immediately rushes to the couch, grabs
the remote, and turns on the television.
He flips through the channels until he finds the TV news
report. He dials numbers on his cell phone, then turns and
rushes toward me. He takes my hand in his. “Come here,”
he says, pulling me to him. “I’m sure he’s fine.”
I nod against his chest, but his reassurance is pointless.

---

“Gary?” he says when someone answers on the other end.
“It’s Miles. Yeah. Yeah, I heard,” he says. “Who was the
crew?”
There’s a long pause. I’m terrified to look at him. 
Terrified.
“Thank you.” He hangs up the phone. “He’s okay, Tate,”
he says immediately. “Corbin’s fine. Ian, too.”
I break down into tears of relief.
Miles walks me to the couch and sits down, then pulls me
to him. He takes my cell phone out of my hands and presses
several buttons before putting the phone to his ear.
“Hey, it’s Miles. Corbin is fine.” He pauses for a few
seconds. “Yeah, she’s fine. I’ll tell her to call you in the
morning.” A few more seconds pass, and he says good-bye.
He sets the phone on the couch beside him. “Your mom.”
I nod. I already knew.
And that simple gesture, him calling my mother, just
made me fall for him even harder.
Now he’s kissing the top of my head, rubbing his hand up
and down my arm reassuringly.
“Thank you, Miles,” I tell him.
He doesn’t say 
you’re welcome
, because he doesn’t think
he did anything that deserves thanking.
“Did you know them?” I ask. “The crew on board?”
“No. They were out of a different hub. The names didn’t
sound familiar.”
My phone vibrates, so Miles hands it back to me. I look at
it, and it’s a text from Corbin.