She didn’t spare Miles a second look but he, nevertheless, followed her slowly. Giving her enough distance to not feel crowded, but making sure he was close enough so that she knew he was there if she needed him.
Not that she would need him. Not that she would turn to him even if she did need him.
The people hovering just yards away, could no longer contain themselves and once she was out of the chopper’s downwash radius, they rushed toward her, with joyful exclamations and open arms. Charity was surrounded by them in seconds, disappearing in the middle of the crowd, swamped with love and hugs and kisses.
Miles knew that she would probably never forgive him…but seeing the vulnerable fear disappear from her eyes to be replaced by love and joy almost made this devastating loss worth it.
Losing her had always been inevitable. But at least now he never had to worry about her being alone, or hiding from the world again.
Because she was finally home.
“Mr. Hollingsworth contacted me last Friday,” Faith explained twenty minutes later, when everybody had settled down to a sizable family breakfast. “He told me that you took your job very seriously and because he had been ill you were reluctant to leave. But he said he knew you wanted to come and felt bad about your missing the party on his account. That’s how he came up with the idea to surprise you by bringing you here today. He said you would never abandon your post so to speak, which meant that he had to do all of this without your knowledge. He’s so nice.”
Oh, he was something alright. But nice wasn’t the adjective that currently sprang to Charity’s mind.
Manipulative, maybe.
Bossy, sure.
Control freak, absofreakinglutely.
But nice?
Charity allowed herself a sigh as she acknowledged, that despite being all of the above…there was no denying that he was nice as well. Miles Henry Hollingsworth was a complex man. And nice, kind, and gentle…were a few of the many layers she had uncovered in him.
But just because he was one of the sweetest men she had ever met, did not mean that he got a free pass after this stunt.
In the following half an hour of sheer excitement and everybody talking over one another and hugs and so much emotion, Charity lost track of Miles. In fact—she surreptitiously glanced around the long, crowded family table—he was nowhere to be seen. The still-pissed-off part of Charity told her that she didn’t care where he was. That he had no place being here anyway. But the Charity who had melted into a puddle of unadulterated joy at the sight of her family, admitted to being more than a little grateful to him for orchestrating this reunion. And that Charity worried that he had left thinking she would never forgive him. Possibly even that she hated him.
And she couldn’t hate him. Because deep down she knew that this hadn’t been the move of a man who felt the need to manipulate or dictate her life. The fool man had been attempting to help her.
She sighed. Then again…making excuses for a man was something she was good at doing, and that sketchy track record made her doubt herself and Miles’s intentions.
Still, she wished she knew where he was.
Gracie, who had left with her father to get dressed for her party, ran into the room, dressed in a pink tutu and a glittery unicorn T-shirt. The girl had been understandably reticent and shy when everybody had pushed her to hug her “Auntie Cherry” hello. But she seemed to have overcome that initial reserve now. She was hugging a plush white unicorn to her chest, and she ran straight to Charity to give her a gap-toothed smile.
“Thank you for my present, Auntie Cherry.” Charity stared at the toy the girl was holding and lifted her gaze to the entrance of the restaurant, where Miles now hovered uncertainly. He must have been with Gracie and Stuart earlier, and he had obviously thought of everything. She didn’t even know when he’d had the opportunity to buy this toy…especially since he had spent almost every waking—and sleeping—moment with her this past week.
“You’re welcome, sweetie. I’m glad you like it.”
“This is a unicorn party,” the girl happily lisped. “My cake is a unicorn.”
“That’s fantastic. I can’t wait to see it.”
“All of my friends are coming. Aaaaall of them.” She gestured expansively to emphasize that fact.
“Wow. This is going to be an epic party.”
“Super epic,” Gracie enthused. “And better than Kyle Stanford’s Transformers party.”
Gracie threw her arms around Charity’s neck to give her a squeeze.
“I’m glad you’re here, Auntie Cherry.” Charity tried not to wince at the nickname and hugged her niece close for a long moment. Loving the sweet smell of her. How could she have stayed away for so long?
“I’m glad too, Gracie,” she admitted. The words sincere. She wasn’t happy about the circumstances that had led to this moment, but now that she was surrounded by these people who loved her so dearly, she couldn’t regret being here.
She released Gracie reluctantly, and Stuart gave her an affectionate smile. “Thank you for coming, Charity, it means the world to all of us.”
Charity swallowed past the lump in her throat and gave her brother-in-law a watery smile. He steered Gracie away, telling the excited little girl that she had to get to the venue to greet her guests.
Her father had joined Miles in the doorway and grabbed hold of his hand to shake it vigorously. The older, taller man slung a familiar arm around Miles’s shoulders and led him toward the table.
“We have so much to talk about,” Faith said, drawing Charity’s attention away from where her father was ushering Miles into a chair beside her mother. “But I’m afraid that duty calls. Mr. Hollingsworth told me that he’d booked a couple of rooms for you guys for the night. That’s great. We’re here for the weekend, and once the guests are gone and Gracie has crashed from all the sugar and excitement, the adults can have dinner and wine and catch up.”
“Can I help with anything?” Charity asked, not wanting to watch her parents fuss over Miles any longer.
“There’s nothing much to do. The venue has taken care of everything. You stay here for a while longer, catch up with Mom and Dad. And I know Sandra and Paul have been dying to talk with you.”
Something in her face must have revealed how she felt about that idea, because Faith gave her a sad, sympathetic smile and squeezed her forearm reassuringly.
“I know it’s hard, Cherry,” she said, clearly misinterpreting the emotion behind Charity’s reluctance. “But they love you too, and they’ve missed you so much. You’re like a daughter to them. And honestly? I think having you around, keeps some vestige of Blaine alive for them.”
The thought of keeping any part of Blaine alive was sickening to Charity, and she swallowed down her nausea before forcing herself to smile.
“We all have a lot to talk about, Faith,” Charity said in a husky undertone, not wanting anyone to overhear her. “I haven’t been fair to all of you. Or completely honest with you.”
Faith’s dark eyes gave her a lingering once-over.
“You seem so different,” she said. “Good different. Mellow, self-confident…I haven’t seen you like this in so long, Charity. I thought you were hiding from the world out there in the middle of nowhere. But I can’t deny that whatever you’ve been doing over there, has truly worked wonders on the fragile, sad creature who left us three years ago.”
“I’ll tell you about it later, okay? Let’s have fun today.”
Miles couldn’t ever recall being at a children’s party before. The low-key celebrations his mother had given his siblings had been limited by budget. Miles had always been deemed too old for a birthday party.
Vicki’s sixth birthday had been the closest any of them had come to having a proper childhood party. She had demanded princesses, poofy dresses, and lots of pink. She had received an acid pink sheet cake with Happy Birthday, Victorya piped in white icing across the top. Somebody had attempted to fix the spelling mistake, by tur
ning the y into an i, but they had only succeeded in making the error more obvious. Luckily Vicki, who at that point could barely spell her own name, hadn’t noticed.
Their mother, Hugh, and Miles had made a huge fuss over the birthday girl. And she had been ecstatic in her “princess” dress made from one of their mother’s old skirts, the tiara Miles had fabricated with pipe cleaners and foil, and the makeup, Hugh had caked onto her face.
It had been memorable. And nowhere near the scale of this event.
Faith and Stuart Culpepper had rented the entire kids carnival section of the estate. As far as Miles could tell, there were in excess of fifty rug rats, hopped up on sugar and the lukewarm winter sunshine, dashing around the place. There were trampolines, play gyms, a freaking bouncy castle, and a seemingly endless supply of food.
Miles stood apart, watching Charity with the kids. She didn’t seem to care that she was wearing a pretty, feminine dress, she had kicked off her shoes, tucked her skirt into her underwear and was on one of the trampolines, having an absolute blast. He didn’t like that some of the dads present appeared to be enjoying the view as much as he was, but who could blame them?
“Thank you for bringing our Charity back to us.” The words were spoken by the tall, blonde older woman, whom Miles hadn’t noticed standing beside him. He recognized her, of course. She had been the author of many of the Facebook posts on Blaine Davenport’s memorial page.
He didn’t respond to the woman’s words but waited to see what she would do next.
“She’s my daughter-in-law, you know? She was devastated when our Blaine died. Absolutely devastated. She was in a depression for so long, we feared we would lose her too. Feared she would follow him…you know? Because she couldn’t stand to live without him.” Something told Miles that that was what she had expected of Charity. For her to follow Blaine.
Fuck that.
“Charity would never do something so utterly weak and cowardly,” he dismissed caustically. And watched in satisfaction, as the shot scored a direct hit. Blaine the Arsehole may not be with them any longer, but this woman had been complicit in his abuse of Charity, and Miles wasn’t above taking potshots at her.
The woman’s expression went frigid, all pretense of civility evaporating in the face of Miles’s opening salvo.
“My son was a strong, proud, and honorable man. He adored his wife and she adored him.”
“Bullshit, you knew exactly what a monster your son was. You raised him to be that way.”
She gasped, an affronted hand going up to her chest.
“I don’t know what Charity has told you…but I can assure you it’s false. Blaine always loved her so much.”
“Yeah, I like to burn the women I love too,” Miles replied, with a cynical snort. “And cut them and hurt them and humiliate them.”
“You don’t know anything.” Her voice was an angry sibilant whisper, and she bristled with fury. “Charity was always difficult. I warned him not to marry her, warned him she would make a terrible pastor’s wife, but he loved that girl beyond reason. She tested him. Tested his commitment to his faith and his parish. What was he supposed to do?”
“Not fucking hit her! Not mark her with cigarettes, or slice her with razor blades. Not break her ribs. He was supposed to love her for the amazing, spirited, beautiful woman she is.”
“Yes, their relationship was very volatile, but there was always love there.”
Her eyes shone with tears, and for a second, Miles felt sorry for her, for the mother who had lost her only child. Then he recalled Charity mentioning the times the very woman standing before him had driven Charity to hospital after one of her precious son’s more violent beatings. How she had made Charity feel at fault. She had been as abusive as her son and Miles refused to waste another moment of sympathy on her.
He glanced over at Charity, then froze, she had climbed off the trampoline and was staring at them in concern.
Shit.
He was one-hundred-percent certain she wouldn’t be pleased to know what they were discussing. He swallowed down the rest of what he wanted to say and smiled frigidly instead.
“If you’ll excuse me,” he said, with insincere politeness. “I see someone over there I’d much rather be spending time with.”
He shoved his hands into his trouser pockets and, without waiting for a response, walked away.
“What did you tell that horrid, horrid man about my son?” Sandra cornered Charity in the ladies’ room about forty-five minutes after Charity had seen her speaking with Miles. It had been very apparent from the woman’s offended body language during that conversation that whatever Miles had been saying had not been to her liking.
Charity had an inkling of course, but she hadn’t been able to pin him down to ask for specifics. Not when everybody wanted to speak with her and spend time with her.
Charity wasn’t even sure how she felt about Miles talking to Sandra about Blaine. Angry? Upset? Hurt? Concerned? Relieved? It was all jumbled up and left her even more confused and frustrated than before.
Now her former mother-in-law had a hand clamped around Charity’s wrist and looked utterly furious with her. Sandra’s hand tightened when she caught sight of Charity’s bare ring finger. She had stopped wearing the fake ring the day after she and Miles first made love.
“Where is your wedding ring? Why aren’t you wearing it? It’s a family heirloom. I want it back if you no longer intend to wear it.”
In the past, Charity may have been cowed by the older woman’s strong-arm tactics. Back when they had isolated her from her family, this woman had been the only maternal figure in her life, and Charity had been grateful to her for always taking care of her in the aftermath of Blaine’s brutal attacks. She had long since recognized it for the carrot-and-stick routine that it had been. And Sandra Davenport no longer held any sway over her.
She yanked her wrist out of the woman’s grip and glared right back.
“I told Miles nothing but the truth. And I donated the ring to a shelter for victims of domestic violence.” She took a great deal of satisfaction in Sandra’s appalled gasp. “It represented years of horrific abuse, and I hated wearing it. My fondest hope is that it has helped other women escape the same nightmare I lived through.”
“You had no right! It was Paul’s mother’s ring.”
Charity shrugged carelessly. “I can give you the name of the shelter, and you can try to track it down. But I never want to see the vile thing again.”
Sandra blinked, appearing confused by Charity’s nonchalance and lack of timidity. She inhaled, before changing the subject. Possibly in an attempt to goad an emotional response from Charity. “How dare you speak to that monster about my beautiful boy? And how could you sully my Blaine’s memory by whoring yourself to a man like that?”
Well…if she had been trying to provoke a reaction from Charity, she succeeded with that. Because it pissed Charity all the way off.
“Miles Hollingsworth is a thousand times the man Blaine was. He’s kind and gentle and caring. He would never hurt me. And like any sane man would be, he was sickened to hear what your son did to me in the name of love.”
“You killed my boy,” Sandra snapped. “I’ve been silent all these years, but we both know that it’s your fault he’s dead. You were toxic for him. And you drove him to do everything that he did. Drove him to kill himself.”
“Your precious fucking son tried to kill me that last night. And the only reason he committed suicide was because he thought he’d succeeded. I knew him well, and I know that he wasn’t man enough to face the consequences of what he thought he had done. I’m happy I’m free of him. Free of you. And I refuse to feel any guilt whatsoever about what happened that night. I lived in fear and pain and regret for too long. I left because I could no longer pretend to feel any kind of grief over his death. And because I couldn’t stand to watch my parents mourn for him. But I’m back now. And I won’t allow them to think of him as some saint anymore.”
The woman went gray, and Charity folded her arms over her chest, staring her down.
“What are you going to do?” The words were choked and panic stricken, but Charity had not an ounce of pity for her.
“That’s none of your concern. My family is none of your concern. I think it’s past time that you and Paul gracefully exit our lives.”
“Your parents are our best friends.”
“Not for much longer,” Charity promised grimly.
“Chari—”
The door to the restroom swung inward, and Faith and one of their cousins stepped inside. The two women were laughing, but the laughter froze when they sensed the tension in the room.
Faith eyed them warily. “Is everything okay?”
“Excuse me, I have to find Paul.” Sandra said, and hastened past the two women. Faith watched her leave while Melly, their cousin, ducked into one of the stalls.
“What’s up?” Faith asked, her voice hushed so that Melly wouldn’t hear them. “I know coming back here must be so painful, and it has to dredge up bittersweet memories. I hope you’re not finding it all too overwhelming.”
“No. Not in the way you’re thinking. I’m so happy to see everyone again. We have to have a family discussion tonight, after Gracie has settled down for the night. I have a lot to tell you.”
“Anything to do with that lovely man who brought you here today? I confess, after seeing the way he looks at you, I was rather hoping you were moving on from the past. I know how much you loved Blaine…but it’s time for…”
“Let me stop you right there, sis,” Charity interrupted her quietly. “Miles has been good to me. And we’ve grown close during his convalescence, but what I have to tell you has nothing to do with him. He and I soon will part as friends…” She ignored the painful jab in the vicinity of her heart as she uttered those surprisingly difficult words and continued on. “And that will be the end of it. As for Blaine…I haven’t felt anything close to love for him in a very long time.”
“I don’t understand.”
Charity grabbed her sister’s hand and squeezed it.
The Best Next Thing Page 27
