The Best Next Thing

by Natasha Anders

  “I’m sorry.” His words were quiet, and she sucked in a painful breath.

  “You haven’t done a single thing to apologize for, Miles. We found each other at the wrong time. That’s all. And I so wish it could have been different for us.”

  “Where’s your shadow?” Miles asked Vicki that evening after dinner. Their mother had joined them for supper but had excused herself soon afterwards to go dancing with George.

  “He bummed a lift into town with Mum and George. Said he was going to hang out with his boss, Sam Brand. He’s such a slacker. You should fire him.”

  Miles grinned and shook his head.

  “You keep on flogging that dead horse, sis.”

  Charity had joined them for dinner but had retreated to her rooms soon afterward. In fact, their mother had insisted that her “children” would clean the kitchen, and Charity should get some packing done.

  She had appeared grateful for the excuse to leave.

  Which left Miles and Vicki in the kitchen, companionably rinsing dishes and loading the dishwasher, with Stormy snoozing in her basket next to the banquette.

  “Sooo…what’s the deal with you and Mrs. Cole?”

  His sister’s question was so unexpected, Miles almost dropped the plate he was rinsing.

  “Uh…what?”

  Smooth. But in his defense, she had completely wrong-footed him.

  “You and Mrs. Cole.”

  “Charity,” he corrected automatically, his mind racing.

  “Okay. Charity. There’s something going on between you. She’s smoking hot, by the way, so congratulations on your conquest.”

  “She’s not a conquest!” he snapped, infuriated that she would think that. “Don’t speak of her like that.”

  Her eyes widened, and she gingerly lowered the glass she had been rinsing to the drainer.

  She whistled. “Well, I didn’t expect to hit that nerve quite so hard. Miles, what’s going on? You look so much healthier than before you left. I didn’t say it at the time, but it was terrifying to see you so weak and so obviously ill. But now…you look healthy sure. And you also look so bloody desolate.”

  Vicki had always been entirely too perceptive. And he loved that about her. He was proud of her intelligence and wit. But right now, because of her incredible mental acuity, he truly wished he were dealing with Hugh, or his mother instead. They usually took everything he said at face value. Vicki never had. And she wouldn’t do so now.

  “Well,” he began, fixating on the ruffled edge of the tea towel he was holding. Worrying at it, he found a frayed stitch and tugged. Anything to avoid his sister’s insightful gaze. “She’s leaving, isn’t she?”

  “And that’s what has you so miserable?”

  “I’m a little…” He cleared his throat, and when the piece of thread he’d been worrying broke, he found another one to tug on. “I’m a little in love with her.”

  He dared a quick glance at Vicki from beneath his brow, she was gawking at him, her jaw unattractively agape. And he hastily went back to his loose thread.

  “More than a little in love actually. I fucking adore her.”

  “So why the hell are you letting her go?”

  “It’s complicated, Swish.” He hadn’t used the nickname in so long it actually startled him when it emerged from his mouth. Swish, because Vicki had been such a talented netball player at high school. “She’s been through some shit. And she’s been hiding from it. She’s finally ready to carry on with her life. To be with her family and friends again. I can’t deprive her of that. To do so would be selfish.”

  “Does she love you?”

  “I don’t think she’s quite ready for love yet. I don’t even think she was ready for what we did have. But it was an irresistible, unstoppable force, and we couldn’t fight it. But she needs to heal. To figure out who she is now. And what she wants to do. And she needs to do that without me around to cloud her judgment.”

  So easy to say those words, to recognize the practicality and rightness in them…and yet so very hard to actually live them.

  “I’m sorry, Miles,” she said, her voice brimming with sincerity.

  “It is what it is.” He set the tea towel aside and folded his arms over his chest. He eyed her assessingly. His cute baby sister with her dark curls, her pale gray eyes, her slightly crooked smile, and the overly big glasses that gave her the appearance of a myopic owl. He had always adored her. “I’m happy to see you, you know?”

  “Are you? Really?” Her voice was small and uncertain and contained the tiniest portion of childlike hope.

  “I am, yes. I’m sorry if I made you feel differently this morning.”

  “It was a pretty dick thing to suggest.”

  “I know.”

  She held his gaze for a long while, before grinning happily. “But, I’m so happy you got us a dog! Thank you. She’s so sweet.”

  “I didn’t get us anything. She’s my dog.” Best to make that clear right now. Vicki had already claimed far too much of Stormy’s time and attention today.

  “You never wanted a dog, Miles. I did. And now that you’ve finally brought one into the family, you’re going to hog her?”

  “Yes, I’m going to hog her, she’s my dog. I share enough with you brats as it is, I’m not sharing my dog.”

  Her eyes went somber, and she gave him a melancholy smile. “Do you resent us because of that? Having to share or give up your stuff when we were kids?”

  “Never!” His response was emphatic. He wanted there to be no doubt about his sincerity. “And don’t you dare let that thought cross your mind again. I was happy to share everything I had with you and Hughie. I still am. Just not my dog. I’m going to need her…after everything.”

  By that he meant after Charity. A fact that his sister seemed to tune in to immediately if the compassion in her eyes was anything to go by.

  “Oh, Miles,” she murmured, crossing the short distance between them to wrap her arms around his waist and hug him fiercely. His arms closed around her small frame moments later as he gratefully accepted the comfort she was so freely offering.

  If Charity’s life was a leaky boat, time was the water that flooded through the gaping holes faster than she could plug them. All too soon, she was submerged and drowning beneath the weight of everything that still needed to be done before she left in just twenty-four hours.

  Three days hadn’t been enough time. And with Enid, Vicki, and the taciturn Tyler Chambers to accommodate now too, Charity found herself barely able to cope.

  The good thing about them being here was that she rarely saw Miles.

  The bad thing about them being here was that she rarely saw Miles.

  He took them sightseeing every day. Ostensibly to make things easier for Charity. But she knew that he was avoiding her.

  She was grateful for that. But she also hated it. He was angry and hurt. She knew that…but a small, impractical part of her had hoped for a friendship at least. She couldn’t stand the thought of losing him so absolutely.

  But he could barely make eye contact with her, which made even a casual acquaintance after her departure, seem unlikely at this point.

  Sam and Lia had invited them all to dinner tonight. A farewell gathering in Charity’s honor. Miles had seemed less than enthusiastic about the idea, but she knew he’d go. He had to. It would look odd if he didn’t. And—considering that they lived in the same house—it was ridiculous how much she was looking forward to seeing him and spending some time with him tonight.

  She had spoken with her parents and sister every day since Gracie’s party. She had renewed acquaintances and friendships with people whom she had been close to before her marriage. She had booked her clinical competence exam, was doing job research, weighing partnership practices up against hanging out her own shingle. There were so many great opportunities available to her.

  Her future looked bright and exciting and filled her with effervescent optimism.

  And yet…she
was bone crushingly lonely.

  She wanted to discuss all of this with Miles. Wanted to bounce ideas off him. Wanted him to share in her excitement and happiness. She felt a little lost without him. Felt like she had lost her best friend really.

  And her heartbreak stemmed from the fact that she knew that the loss was permanent.

  Everybody was having a marvelous time at Charity’s impromptu farewell. Laughter, drinking, fucking merriment. How could everybody be so happy about someone’s imminent departure?

  Miles was trying his best to put up a merry front. He wanted Charity to understand that while he was mourning her loss in his life, he wanted her to be happy.

  But it was so fucking hard when all he wanted to do was howl like a wounded beast.

  He was being a selfish prick. He knew it. But he felt cheated out of days—weeks—more.

  “You’d better stop this hulking and sulking in the corner, my boy. This petulance is not a good look on you.” His mother invaded the gloriously isolated corner which he had claimed for his—as she had so aptly put it—hulking and sulking. She handed him a beer, and he wrinkled his nose. He had never been much of a beer drinker. His mother, however, loved the stuff. Preferably a draught, but a bottle would do in a pinch.

  She took a pull from hers, before turning her full attention on him. “The way I see it, you have two choices. Tell her how you feel about her, and let the chips fall where they may. Or let her go gracefully and be happy for her. I can’t believe she has been housekeeping for the last three years, when she’s a qualified chiropractor. It’s good that she’s finally going to answer that calling.”

  “You don’t know how I feel about her. Or how I feel about this situation.”

  “Please. I birthed you. And I may not have been entirely present during your childhood, but I know you. A lot better than you think I do, and it’s as clear as that oversized nose on your face. You’re so in love with that woman, you can barely see straight. And you’re miserable at the thought of losing her. What I don’t understand is why my ambitious, go-getter of a son, doesn’t…well go get her?”

  “It’s complicated and messy.”

  “Well, uncomplicate it, Miles. If you love the woman, figure it out. I’ve never seen you look at anybody the way you look at her. To be honest I’ve despaired of ever seeing you look at someone like that…and now that you’ve found her, you’re just letting her go?”

  “She’s not mine to keep. She never has been. The best thing I can do for her is let her go.”

  “Like this? With so much reluctance and surliness and moodiness? What kind of message does that send? She’s surrounded by all these people who care about her, who will miss her when she leaves. Who want her to succeed in the future, and all she can do is stare at you with her shattered heart in her eyes.”

  Her words jerked Miles’s head up and he unerringly sought and found Charity. True to his mother’s words, she was watching him. Her eyes widened when he caught her staring, and she hastily looked away.

  “She shattered my heart first,” he said, sounding like the petulant boy she had called him earlier. He shut his eyes and shook his head, irritated with himself for being this way.

  “I’m being a prick.” It was a statement of fact, an acknowledgment of his ridiculous behavior. Not too long ago, he had promised to be her friend above all else.

  And he was being a terrible fucking friend.

  “Excuse me, Mum. I have to—”

  “No need to explain, my boy,” his mother interrupted cheerfully, taking another swig from her beer. “Go talk to her.”

  He was coming over.

  Charity’s breath hitched, and her heart, which had been glumly lurking close to the vicinity of her feet all evening long, leaped back into her chest and tattooed a frantically happy beat against her ribcage. She watched him approach, unable to take her eyes off him.

  He moved like a panther, sinuously, gracefully, purposefully…

  Would she ever stop loving him?

  He glided to a stop in front of her. His eyes boring intently into hers. With his dark brows furrowed into a glower, and his hair untamed, there was a familiar hint of wildness about him. And she found it utterly irresistible.

  He held out a hand, palm up. “Dance with me?”

  Her tongue was glued to the roof of her dry mouth, and she struggled to formulate her response.

  It took so long, his hand started to shake, and the spark in his eyes dimmed.

  “There’s no music,” she eventually managed to croak out, and his eyebrows lowered even more.

  “There isn’t?” He looked confused by her statement for a moment. But then he smiled. And his face transformed from savage to drop dead gorgeous in seconds. “I always hear music when I’m with you, Charity.”

  The words were cringingly sweet; but her knees went weak, and her legs turned to gelatin.

  “That’s hands down the corniest thing I’ve ever heard you say,” she said, with a laugh, and he grinned.

  “I know.” His palm was still outstretched, and she dropped her own hand into it and allowed him to tug her into his arms. He nuzzled the hair at her temple and breathed the rest of what he had to say directly into her ear, “It’s true though.”

  He was swaying gently, to the beat of some song only he could hear. Charity sighed and snuggled closer, her arms going around his waist, while his hands fisted against her back.

  “I’m sorry I’ve been such a twat,” he muttered, and she shook her head.

  “I understand that my decision to leave was a shock. I’m sorry too.”

  “Let’s not spend the remainder of our time together apologizing to each other, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  “You all packed?”

  “Hmm.”

  “I’m going to miss you, my love.”

  “I’m going to miss you too, Miles,” her voice wobbled. “So much.”

  “You’re going to have a phenomenal life. Because you deserve it.”

  Her throat and nose clogged up, and her eyes stung. She buried her face in his neck, wishing he could hold her forever.

  He started to hum softly into her ear, and she smiled, her arms tightening around him.

  “You really need to learn some other songs, Miles,” she chuckled, and she felt his lips stretch into a grin against her ear.

  “Nah, it’s too late for me, darling. Sometimes you find that one perfect thing and then it becomes yours, forever. Know what I mean?”

  She swallowed and nodded.

  Of course, she knew what he meant. These last several weeks with him had been her perfect thing. And the memory of their time together would live on in her heart forever.

  “Where are you going?” Charity asked into her pillow, when she felt her mattress shift as Miles got up. He had made tender love to her for hours after the party last night. Worshiping her with his body, hands, and mouth. Lavishing her with praise and endearments.

  It had been perfect…but now he appeared to be sneaking out of bed and tiptoeing to the door like a thief in the night. She pushed herself up onto her elbow and glared at him in the dim predawn light.

  “I’m sorry,” he whispered, coming back to sit down on the edge of the bed. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

  “Where are you going?” Charity repeated and reached over to switch on the bedside lamp.

  “Charity…last night was my farewell to you. I don’t think I can watch you leave. I couldn’t stand it.”

  “You were just going to sneak out without a word?” She sat up, tucking the bedsheet under her arms.

  He sighed and cupped her jaw between his palms.

  “Be happy, my love.” He gave her sweetest, gentlest kiss.

  And left before she could reply.

  Miles and Stormy were on the beach when he heard the engine of the SUV start up. Despite his conviction not to watch her leave, he couldn’t prevent himself from turning around to track the progress of the vehicle with his own eyes. He wat
ched it shakily traverse the dirt road toward the bridge. He was too far to see her face…but he was more than passingly familiar with the elegant shape of her head. She was in the back seat. And judging from the tilt of that head, she had spotted him on the misty beach.

  Her body language changed, and he saw her press a palm to the window. He made a tortured sound, something between a keen and a moan and lifted his own hand in response.

  I see you, darling. I love you.

  The vehicle disappeared around the bend, and the sound of the engine gradually grew fainter and fainter, until all he could hear were the sounds of the birds chirping, the wind rustling through the trees and grass, the waves gently slapping against the shore, and his jagged breathing as he battled to keep the emergent, harsh sobs at bay.

  In the end, the anguish of loss was just too unbearable, and he sank down onto the sand, clutched his knees to his chest and grieved.

  Three months later

  “Are you happy, Charity?”

  Faith’s unexpected question threw Charity for a loop. They were in a bustling coffee shop, having their weekly brunch. Catching up on gossip. And suddenly this.

  Why was she asking? Did Charity not seem happy? Did her family catch occasional glimpses of the loneliness and yearning she still felt for something she could no longer have?

  When they had started family therapy, it had been with the understanding that there would be no more life-altering secrets among them. But Charity didn’t feel like she was keeping secrets. Her family knew about Miles. Knew how much he meant to her. Knew that she had to be missing him.

  So technically there were no real secrets here. Just unspoken truths.

  “Why do you ask?”

  “I have it penciled into my schedule,” Faith informed her somberly. “The first day of every third month, ask Charity about happiness.”

  Charity’s eyes widened. “What? Seriously?”

  “Of course not, you ditz,” her sister laughed, taking a sip from her chocolate latte, before elaborating. “But I have decided that it’s something I need to ask you more often. To allow you space to…I dunno, talk. If you want to.”