by Hill, Sierra
CHAPTER twenty-three
A week had passed since Mitch returned to Boston. One excruciatingly long and taxing week; full of meetings, disagreements, negotiations, the obligatory Sunday dinner with his parents, several physical therapy appointments with his new therapist, Carmen, formal social engagements and zero Rylie encounters. A week from hell.
That’s not to say that he hadn’t tried reaching her. Mitch texted her twice upon his return from Miami, called her twice, the second time leaving a rambling and long-winded message for her, asking – no, begging her to call him back. He told her that he only wanted an explanation as to what happened to her and to see that she was all right. He said he only wanted to see her one more time, maybe dinner? Or maybe lunch. Hell, he’d settle on coffee, whatever she wanted. He just had to see her. But he heard nothing in return. No text, no email and no returned phone call. He was living in hell. Aside from acting like a creepy stalker and going to her place of business, he was out of options in how to get her to talk to him.
He may have mentioned this to his mother one night at their family dinner, one that was always a bit awkward because his mother insisted on setting a place for Matthew. It initially freaked him and his father out and they wondered if they should mention it to her. But after it continued for six months, they all just got used to the idea that Matthew would always be a part of them and even if he wasn’t there face-to-face, he was present in their lives.
Their conversation had started off as it normally did – how was work? What was new in his business? How was Jax? Was Mitch seeing anyone? The last question was always a singular “no, mother,” in order to stop the prying and meddling that was bound to occur if she got a whiff of any potential women in his life. As he was now her only heir, she wanted nothing more than to see him happily married and with children as soon as it was possible. But this time, his response was different. He had the overwhelming urge to mention Rylie and their trip, the time they shared together and then her abrupt departure. He thought he’d shocked his mother at first, but she smiled warmly and with the wisdom of a woman who knew a little bit about the female psyche. She quickly ascertained that their common denominator was their family friend Mark, therefore, he should reach out to him and find a way to get her back.
Damn, his mother was one smart woman.
That’s exactly what he found himself doing after returning home that night. Opening up his laptop and logging into Skype, he swirled his whiskey sifter in one hand, and clicked the button to dial Mark, who was half-way around the world in Africa. Through the miracles of modern technology, he was able to see and speak with him over Skype. Mark seemed a little worse for wear, but happy to hear from him.
“Holy shit, if it isn’t Mitch Camden!” Mark had exclaimed, looking a little worn out and ragged, a scruffy reddish/brown beard covering his jaw. “What’s up buddy? To what do I owe this pleasure? How’s the knee doing?”
Mitch rubbed his knee, as it throbbed at the mention of his recovery. “The knee is doing great, thanks for asking. I had the best surgeon in Boston and some amazing therapists in the process,” he said, the compliment referring to Mark and his team. “So how are you doing, bro? How’s Africa?”
He could see Mark’s facial expression grow weary and sad, his eyes welling up ever so slightly. “Eh, you know. It’s a different world down here,” he said quietly, rubbing his eyes, as if to get an image out of his head. “A lot of disease, poverty, hunger…families torn apart. I’d be lying if I said it was a cake walk. But it’s also the most amazing experience I’ve ever had and I’m glad I’m here. I do miss the States, though. And the comforts of home. I miss my family and my friends. Speaking of friends…” he paused, giving Mitch an inquisitive look. “Have you continued with your physical therapy? And you’ve been working with Rylie?”
Mitch gave him a lopsided grin. Oh yeah, he’d seen a lot of her recently. And he wanted more. So much more. “Yes, Doctor. I have, thanks for asking. And my therapy is going well. I haven’t been on crutches for a few weeks now and the pain is almost non-existent. I’d been doing some water therapy with Rylie…or at least, I was.”
“Oh yeah? That’s great. Rylie is an amazing therapist and really knows her clients’ needs. She’s truly one of the best I’ve worked with. And she’s also a great person, but I suspect you already know that.”
Mitch’s smile faded as he hesitantly replied.
“Yeah, man, I do. Rylie is pretty damn great.”
“But…something’s going on? What is it? Is she okay?” Mark’s voice rose up an octave, filled with panic.
“Yeah, man. She’s fine. Or at least I think she is. The last time I saw her, she was – she came with me on a business trip to Miami…”
Mark’s expression turned dark and protective. “What the fuck did you do to her, Mitch?”
“Whoa, whoa…I didn’t do anything. Dude, I’ve been trying to get ahold of her since we got back. She was the one who left me high and dry in Miami and now won’t return any of my calls. I’ve been trying to see her for over a week…I want to…well, I want to…be with her. But she’s not making it very easy to do.”
Through the staticky internet connection, Mitch could see Mark throw his head back in laughter. His anger spiked.
“You find this funny, bro?”
Mark shook his head and his laughter subsided. “Yes, I do find it funny. Now that I’ve seen third world problems, I find your first world tales of unrequited love pretty goddamn funny. And so are you. You’re acting like a love sick puppy. Mitch Camden, god of women, who’s never had to chase down a woman before, is now chasing after the one woman who has resisted his charms. That’s freaking hilarious!”
“Laugh it up, shithead. I’m so glad I could provide you some entertainment in your absence. And what makes you think she resisted my charms?”
Mark’s smile ended, replaced with a menacing glare, pursing his lips together in thought. “You better not have fucking laid a hand on her, dickwad. I may be half way across the world, but I will kick your ass the next time I see you if you did.”
Mitch sat back in his desk chair and ran his hands through his hair. He wasn’t sure if he was getting a protective brother vibe from Mark, or if what he saw from him fell in the “I’ve wanted her for a long time, back the hell off” category. Either way, he could appreciate his feelings toward her. He felt the same way.
“Mark, this is serious. I could use your help here. And considering I did lend you some pretty sizeable financial support in your endeavors to save the world, I think you could at the very least help a brother out.”
“You got me there. And I do appreciate your support you know. You and your family have invested a lot and I can tell you it’s made a huge investment in the lives of these people, so thank you.”
“Bro, you’re a better man than most and I’m in awe at what you’re doing. And we’ll be sending you additional support in the next few weeks after the charity event my mother is hosting next weekend. It should prove to be very helpful.”
“Okay, so tell me what I can do for you. How can I help you out with your little Rylie problem? She’s a stubborn woman, so I don’t know what advice I can offer to you, so don’t expect too much. I’ll do my best.”
They chatted for another ten minutes, considered a few options and scenarios that might sway Rylie into meeting with Mitch again. Whatever he did, Mark warned Mitch to tread lightly and not go in with barrels a’ blazing. Coming on too strong or attempting to push her in a corner would only force Rylie to go on the defensive. And they both agreed that she knew how to attack when cornered.
“Mark, you’re a good man. Thanks for the advice. I’ll let you know how it goes. And keep yourself safe, you hear me? We need your skilled hands back here in Boston.”
“You bet. And Mitch…take good care of her. I love that girl.”
Ah, so that’s how it is. Yeah, he got that. “I will. Take care, bro.”
The internet connection went
dark, as Mark disconnected from the conversation, leaving Mitch mulling over their conversation and the words of advice Mark had offered up to him. He knew Mark was sincere in his concern for Rylie and he wondered if Rylie ever felt the same way for him? Had it only been a one-sided romantic love? Or did part of Rylie also love Mark more than platonically?
He shook off the question and considered his next move. He needed to get Rylie in a place where she didn’t feel vulnerable or challenged. Somewhere she’d feel relaxed and could hold a conversation without feeling trapped. Based on the insights and information Mark threw out, he knew the exact place, but just had to figure out the time.
****
It had gone from brisk to downright cold in New England since she’d returned from Miami. Boston October’s were unpredictable; one day it could be in the sixties and the next it could dip below freezing, with inches of snowfall. Now heading into November, however, there was a light drizzle and it was a balmy forty-three degrees. Cool enough for Rylie to wear a long-sleeved Nike running hoodie and a pair of pink, printed running tights.
She was a creature of habit and loved her morning runs, regardless of the weather conditions or her moods. As of late, her mood had been far from cheerful, much to Sasha and her family’s chagrin and disapproval. She’d hoped the excessive running that she’d been doing over the last week would have improved that and would help vanquish Mitch from her ever-present thoughts. It hadn’t helped yet, but there was always hope that today was the day.
She ran her normal route along the Charles River, stopping several times to stretch out her calves and muscles, enjoying the view of the Harvard rowing team making their way through the cold, smooth waters. She shook her head to clear the thought of the warm Atlantic waters that she and Mitch snorkeled in and the way she felt wrapped in his arms. It was exactly those kind of memories that would not help her cause.
She thought about the immature behavior she demonstrated over the past week, avoiding his attempts to reach her. She was acting like a stupid, childish girl to run and hide from him. It was her only defense mechanism at this point, having no other means of dealing with the emotional turmoil he caused her. On one hand, she wanted to be with him and felt so incredibly contented when they were together. She actually liked him. He was funny, smart, beautiful and fun to be with.
And on the other hand, she didn’t want to get too close where she’d lose herself in him. Her heart wasn’t capable of going through something like that again, even if in a different context. And even if there wasn’t anything going on with Mitch and the Elle woman he received a text from, she didn’t want to get her heart broken. She couldn’t handle that.
So where did that leave her?
It left her empty. She felt hollow; sullen; irritable; and uptight.
Sasha was right about one thing. She was in her mid-twenties and needed to live life, otherwise she would soon become a grumpy and cynical old woman who looked back on her life with regret and looked at the future with pessimism.
Finishing up her run, she walked into The Cambridge Cup coffee house to get her daily coffee fix. The line was longer than normal, even though it was still fairly early on a Sunday morning. She grew impatient with the customers ahead of her that were having difficulties with their orders, as she irritably tapped her running shoe in a restless beat against the tiled floors.
A velvety rich voice broke into her agitated thoughts, nearly sending her flying forward into the couple in front of her.
“I’ve got a table in the corner and an extra-large cup of steaming hot Americano waiting for you already, if you’d like to join me.”
Pivoting around on her heels, she stared up into the golden tanned face of the man she’d been running from over the last week, but whom she desperately wanted to run to.
“Wha – what are you doing here?” she stammered like an idiot.
“I wanted to have coffee with a beautiful woman.”
Rylie’s face flushed hot, looking up into his smoldering eyes.
“Actually, I take that back,” he said, as she gave him a look of confusion. “I wanted to have coffee with the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met. And I was told she might be here today. And lucky me…here you are.”
He smiled down at her and the space between them seemed to have shrunk. Her body felt like it was being drawn in by some sort of magnetic pull, drawing them together. Rylie could barely breathe being so close to him again. Perhaps sensing her uneasiness, Mitch stepped back, pointing the way to his table.
“I know I’ve caught you off guard, and I’m sorry for that,” he continued, as he placed his hand lightly on Rylie’s lower back, guiding her around to his table to sit. “But you left me no other choice. I needed to see you. To talk to you. Will you talk to me?”
He sat down across from her at the small café table made for two and took the lid off her coffee cup, emptying in two packets of sugar and stirring it with a stir stick.
“Cream?”
She nodded in response, taken aback by his presence and how much of a gentleman he could be. He poured the cream and placed the lid back on the cup, handing it to her.
“Thank you,” she squeaked.
“You’re welcome. And thanks for not bolting.” He took a sip of his coffee and sat back, crossing one leg over the other. He appeared to be waiting for her to start the conversation. She wasn’t being obstinate, but she honestly didn’t know where to begin. She simply sat there, taking him all in, her pulse beating in surprise and shock.
He was dressed casually in a charcoal gray Helly Hansen sailing jacket and jeans and appeared comfortable in the silence that stretched out between them. He blew on the hot liquid in his cup and then took another sip of his coffee.
Finally, when she couldn’t stand the silence any longer, she spoke. A little more curtly than she had meant.
“You came here looking for me. So what do you want to talk about?”
He raised his brows and grinned. She gnawed on her lip, scanning his facial expression which indicated a piqued interest.
“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe I hoped you could suggest who I should play in my fantasy football league this week? Or maybe what exercises I should be doing for my knee, since my therapist didn’t leave me with my daily instructions before she left Miami? Or perhaps we could talk about why I can’t get you off my mind and I’ve lost all semblance of concentration?” He set down his cup and leaned in toward her. “We can start with whichever question you’d like.”
Rylie made an audible gulp, her rattled nerves vaulting through her body.
She decided to go with the easiest question. Something she had confidence to explain. “If I were you, I’d play Marshawn Lynch from the Seahawks this week. They’re playing strong and are assured a win and he’s a running back on fire. And if you need a QB in your line-up, Drew Brees is a sure pick for TD points.”
He nodded, his lips upturned in a small smile. She loved his smile. She loved his lips. Shit, she loved what his mouth could do to her. Gah.
She grabbed a napkin and borrowed a pen from the guy sitting at the table next to them. Making a few notes on the makeshift writing tablet, she slid the napkin across the table to Mitch, watching his confused expression.
“Sounds like your therapist is an ass and left you with no instructions for your continued therapy. So here are three exercises you can do this week at home to keep strengthening your knee.”
He smiled as he read through them, laughing when he came to the fourth.
“You said there were three, but I see there’s a fourth listed here.”
“Yep,” she nodded affirmatively.
“I don’t think the fourth is going to help my knee very much.”
“Probably not...but it will help me say what I need to say.”
She sighed deeply, placing her elbows on the table and her head in her hands. After a second, she looked back up at Mitch, who was watching her intently. She’d never been very good at apologies. Wasn’t a ve
ry often occurrence in a household of men, who would typically just grumble a “sorry” or “my bad” when they fucked up.
So here she was, sitting across from a man she knew intimately well, who was looking to make amends, and she was the one who had to “man up” and take ownership for her mistakes. She owed him that. She needed to gain his forgiveness.
“The fourth is my advice for how to deal with me. You need to have patience and be willing to run after me and accept my apologies...because I am an idiot,” she dipped her head again, feeling regret and guilt. Mitch’s hand came out and under her chin, lifting it gently to meet his eyes.
“Ry…don’t do that. Don’t ever hang your head in shame. Whatever you were feeling or whatever drove you away is not your fault. If anything, it was probably me. I pushed you too far and too fast. What can I say, I’m a Type A personality?” he shrugged and then placed his hands on the table, opening them up for her to take hold of him. She tentatively reached forward, laying them down on his. He squeezed them gently; reassuringly.
His voice was soft and sympathetic. “Will you tell me what happened? What did I do to make you run off that way?”
“Mitch, it’s not you…” she laughed at how cheesy and cliché her words sounded. “It’s me. It’s my history. It’s the circumstances. It’s just that I’m not equipped to handle this kind of stuff.”
“Stuff?”
“Yeah, you know. Relationship stuff…or whatever label you want to use to describe our little fling. I got caught up in it and it was off-the-radar intense. As they say, if you can’t stand the heat, get out of the kitchen. So that’s what I did.”
He nodded thoughtfully at her explanation.
“And then, well, I don’t know. I wasn’t sure what you’d want from me after that, or if you would be coming back to Boston to your girlfriend.”
He shook his head vehemently in denial.
“Ry, I do not have a girlfriend. I’m not seeing anyone. And if I was, I would have been open and told you about it. And I certainly wouldn’t have slept with you if I did. That’s not the kind of man I am.”
