“I’m fine, sis,” Charity said, offering Faith a small smile. “I’m doing well, I’m content. But…” She sighed and shook her head. “No. I’m not happy.”
“I didn’t think you were.”
“I m-miss him so much,” she confessed, stumbling over the words in her haste to get them out.
Faith wrapped her palms around her cup of coffee and sucked her upper lip into her mouth as she scrutinized Charity’s face.
“It’s funny,” she began, her tone of voice almost wondering, as she continued to stare at Charity like she had never seen her before.
“What is?”
“After Blaine died, I thought you were sad. Missing him. The usual things, you know? Grieving. But with the gift of hindsight, and seeing you as you are now…Charity, this is real sorrow. You had something special and you lost it. And it broke your heart. And I wish I knew how to make it better for you.”
“Talking helps,” she admitted.
“So why didn’t you say something sooner?”
“Because I feel like that person, you know? That person who can never be happy and content. Who always finds a reason to be miserable. I’m supposed to be happy. I have everything I thought I wanted…I have you all back. I’m starting my own practice. I have old friends and new. I don’t feel weighted down by my past anymore. I still have so much PTSD to work through after my life with Blaine…but it no longer feels like the sum total of who I am. I should be happy.”
“But you’re not. And that’s okay.”
“Is it? It was supposed to be a fling. Nothing more. I was never meant to be hung up on him.”
Faith snorted and waved her hand impatiently.
“You’re not ‘hung up’ on him. You’re in love with him. Big difference, sis. One suggests an impractical obsession with a past lover. The other indicates depth of feeling, a realness that cannot be casually dismissed.”
“He helped me overcome so much…but he was also the first man after Blaine, and I thought I was rebounding or something. He took me by surprise, you know. I always thought he was this aloof, terse, tense man with few friends, no hobbies and no concept of how to let loose and have fun. He always struck me as a guy with a giant stick up his butt.”
“He was none of those things, I take it?”
“One of the first things he did after arriving at the house for his convalescence was rescue a flea-bitten, skinny pup. I mean, she was a raggedy, sad looking little thing, but he thought she was the most beautiful freaking dog in the world. He named her Stormy, and they fell instantly in love and were inseparable from the very beginning. He lost his appetite at a farmhouse restaurant because some chickens wandered into the yard, and he was concerned that we were eating one of their offspring.
“And don’t get me started on how he feels about captive lobsters in restaurant tanks. The man is borderline militant on the topic. He’s patient, kind, sweet, understanding. He’s also intelligent, funny, companionable, and passionate about the things he loves. He’s fantastic in bed. He made me feel safe and—”
“Cherry, stop!” Even though her family tried very hard to refrain from using that nickname, they occasionally slipped up. But Charity found herself minding less and less. They loved her, they could call her anything they damned well pleased. Blaine had taken enough from her, and she had decided that this was something he could no longer have. “If you feel this way about him, why aren’t you grabbing him with both hands and holding on tight?”
“He’s there. I’m here. It’s long-distance or one of us moves. That’s if he even wants to start anything serious with me.”
“Oh, I saw the way that man looked at you. He wants it alright.”
“And I thought the next part of my life shouldn’t be about a man. It should be about me.”
“Admirable. But why can’t it be about both? Why can’t you have your career, your independence, and the man you love? Why can’t you have everything? You fucking deserve it!”
Faith’s questions made her pause, and her brow puckered as she contemplated the words. Words she had never allowed herself to even consider before.
Could this be just another way she was allowing her past with Blaine to manipulate and influence her future? Miles had strong feelings for her. She knew that. She hadn’t dared asked him for clarification on those feelings because she didn’t want to know. She feared that it would weaken her resolve to be more.
Be better.
But what she hadn’t considered was that she was already better. Better on her own and better with him. She had nothing to prove to anyone except herself, and after three years of near isolation, making herself mentally and physically strong, she already possessed that proof.
Miles had afforded her the emotional support she hadn’t even known she needed. Without him, she could very well have remained stuck in that safe chrysalis for many more years. But his strength had bolstered hers and had encouraged her to emerge and fly.
She didn’t need him to make her whole. But…she damned well wanted him.
Give Stormy a hug and kiss from me. Tell her I miss her.
Miles—who had been lounging on an uncomfortably overstuffed sofa in his study—choked on the thirty-year-old Richard Hennessy he had been sipping when the message materialized on his screen. He sat upright carelessly spilling the liquid gold as he gaped at his phone in disbelief.
He blinked few times, but the message didn’t disappear. Stormy, the world’s most spoiled dog, lifted her head from her plush cushion on the sofa beside him, to watch him quizzically. He lifted the phone to show her, before recognizing how nuts the gesture was.
He went back to staring at the message, not sure if he should respond or not. Surely she had sent him the message expecting some kind of response?
He set aside the crystal snifter, and impulsively lifted Stormy into his arms. He took a few selfies of himself hugging and kissing the dog. He sent them all with the accompanying text: She misses you too.
After he sent the message, he started fretting like a teenage girl. Had he responded too quickly? Seemed over eager? Three months of zero communication, and he responded to her first text within seconds.
That had to reek of desperation.
Worse, he now found himself fixedly staring at the screen, waiting for a response.
This was ridiculous. He was a grown man, he had better things to do than sit at home mooning over his bloody phone.
Only…he really didn’t. He hadn’t done anything remotely social since returning from Riversend.
Work, eat, walk Stormy, sleep, repeat.
Vicki often popped by to visit him at his luxurious Knightsbridge apartment. Hugh and his mother were regular visitors as well. But he knew his mum wasn’t wholly comfortable in this place. In fact, given how often she complained about its lack of warmth, Miles would go so far as to say she hated it quite passionately. He was never sure if she meant the heating or the monochromatic décor.
Vicki and Hugh shared a three-bedroomed apartment in Hammersmith. One of Miles’s many properties. And their mother lived in a cozy flat that Miles had bought for her in her old neighborhood in Kensington. Miles liked that they all lived in close proximity of one another.
He could keep an eye on them, make sure they were safe. They all had security details. His mum’s more discreet. So discreet she had no idea they were there. Tyler Chambers was still on Vicki duty and would be for the conceivable future. His sister hated it, and Chambers didn’t seem overly impressed with the situation either. Miles imagined that watching an eccentric florist create animal bouquets all day long wasn’t quite on par with the level of excitement the guy must have been expecting from his work.
But Miles didn’t care. He trusted Chambers to do the job, regardless of boredom or personal preference. And judging from the amount of complaints he received from his sister every day, the man never dropped his guard when they were in public.
He was allowing his mind to wander because it stopped him f
rom obsessing over that fucking message. Stopped him from checking his phone every five seconds.
He got up and prowled the length of the room, intentionally leaving the phone on the glass coffee table. Stormy watched him for a few moments, before sighing and dropping her head back on her cushion. She was curled up in a tight ball, with her nose practically buried in her arse.
The phone vibrated, and its screen lit up again.
Why the surprising texts? What had changed? He had been so fucking tempted to call her or text her these last few months. But he had told himself that doing so would be selfish and unfair.
Which was partly true. The other reason he hadn’t attempted to contact her was his healthy fear of being rebuffed. An alien sensation for him. He rarely doubted himself. He always knew exactly what to do in any given situation.
Until now. Until Charity.
He slowed his breathing. Struggling to calm down. Advising himself to wait a couple of minutes before checking the message, and then a further five before replying.
He lasted thirty seconds.
It was humiliating.
Tell her I’m starting my own practice. I’ll be open for business in two weeks.
Miles glared at the screen, irritated.
What the hell was this?
He looked over at his snoozing dog and called her name. She lifted her head, her eyes bleary, her wiry beard flat on one side, and her one ear flipped inside out.
She looked adorable.
Miles smiled and pretended to yawn, knowing it would set her off. It always did. He snapped a pic of her in mid-yawn and sent it to Charity.
She doesn’t care. She says not to interrupt her nap again.
This time he didn’t have to wait long for a response. It came five seconds later, Rude.
Looks like you’re stuck with me now.
He held his breath and watched as she began formulating her response.
…
…
…
Was she composing a fucking essay?
…
…
Looks like it.
Oh.
He stared at the screen. Obsessing over those three words like it was a code in need of decrypting.
Looks like it.
How was he supposed to respond to that? He felt like he was navigating a minefield and one wrong step could blow him right the hell off the planet.
Fuck it.
He clicked on her number, sucked in a deep breath, and hit the call button.
She answered on the second ring. Her rich, husky voice was brimming with something that sounded suspiciously close to laughter, “Miles?”
“I don’t know what that means.” He exclaimed, the words out before he could stop himself, and immediately winced.
“I miss you.”
Well…there was no mistaking her meaning there. The words, though quiet, seemed to have been blurted out with the same impulsivity of his opening statement.
“It’s been three months.”
“Now, I’m the one who can honestly say I don’t know what that means.”
“I mean, we haven’t spoken in three months. Have you only started missing me now? Because let me tell you, woman, I’ve been missing you this entire time. And it seems to me that you’re a little late to the party.”
“It hasn’t taken me this long to realize that I miss you, Miles,” she told him, that laughter bubbling away beneath the surface again. “I’ve missed you this entire time as well.”
“Damn it, Charity. What the fuck are you doing?”
“I honestly don’t know. But I miss having you in my life. I like having you in my life.”
He was silent for so long, Charity would have thought the call dropped if not for the soft, uneven sough of his breath in her ear.
Her own breathing was conspicuous by its absence, while she waited for his reply.
He cleared his throat, and her breath escaped on a quiet stream of air.
“You’re starting your own practice? That’s pretty impressive.”
She smiled and allowed herself to breathe. “I wanted to be my own boss. Have you fully adjusted to being back at work again?”
“I’ve made a few alterations.” He didn’t elaborate, and she rolled her eyes. Getting him to talk about himself was like pulling teeth at times.
“What kind of alterations?”
“I’ve given Bryan and Hugh more responsibility and am taking on more of an advisory role in the company. I’ll stay on as board chairman…for now. But I’m grooming Bryan for that position.”
“But…why?”
“I want to focus on other things. My health scare has reorganized my priorities. I don’t want my life to be about just work anymore.”
“What will you do instead?”
“Make time for family, get out more, travel.” He cleared his throat again. Possibly uncomfortable with the subject matter. Or perhaps he was getting a cold. Which she doubted. He continued, “Enjoy life. Maybe even uh…marry and have kids or something. I just want more from life. I’ve spent nearly twenty of my thirty-five years building something I could be proud of. I did it for my mother and siblings. I wanted them to have anything and everything they desired from life. And that was it, my big plan. My raison d’être. I never thought beyond that. And even after I succeeded beyond my wildest imaginings…I couldn’t rest for fear of losing everything I’d built. I certainly didn’t think I could trust anyone else at the helm, so to speak.”
His words tumbled to an awkward halt and Charity waited, expecting him to continue. But when nothing else was forthcoming, she gave him a gentle prod. “And now you know you can trust them? Your friend and your brother, I mean?”
“Yes.”
First a deluge of information and now this…monosyllabic tumbleweed.
Perhaps expecting more from him after three months of silence was pushing too hard. She had contacted him because she was ready to explore the possibilities between them. Charity had had time to think, process, plan…but Miles was playing catch-up.
“I’ve decided to open my practice in Riversend.”
“What?”
Oh. A roar. Uncharacteristic.
She liked it.
“They don’t have a chiropractor in town, they have to drive into Knysna, or farther, for treatment.”
“But what about your family? I thought you wanted to live closer to home.”
She laughed softly, and sighed. “Turns out, Riversend is home. For three years I believed I could live on the outskirts of society, avoid people, and friendships…Be a solitary, self-sufficient island. I was so mistaken. I made connections without even recognizing them. And not just during those last few weeks with you. I found myself constantly wondering if the cheese festival was a success. Everybody in town had been so excited about it. They had been planning parades and raffles and exhibitions. I didn’t know that I’d actually been looking forward to it until I missed it.”
“And you have friends there,” he supplied quietly.
“I do. I reconnected with some of my former friends. The ones from before my marriage…but it’s not the same. We have so little in common now.”
“What about your family?”
“We talk more. All the time in fact. I’ve come to realize that it isn’t proximity that’s important. I can be close to them without being close to them. Know what I mean?”
“Yes.”
“And this time it’s different…I’m not hiding. I’m not running. I’m settling down, carving my own niche in this world. And they fully support me.”
“Where are you staying?”
“I’m renting a cottage on the edge of town. It’s owned by Lia’s youngest sister. It’s small but I like it.”
“You can…” he stopped speaking, and she held the phone closer to her ear. She could what? He cleared his throat again.
And the silly delay tactic irritated her.
“You should see someone for that,” she said
pointedly.
“What?”
“That scratch in your throat. It could be a cold. Or allergies. Or…”
“I’m nervous.”
Why did he have to be so vulnerable in his honesty? It did painful, clenching things to her already fragile heart.
“I am too.” No point in denying it. And if he could be honest, so should she.
“I was going to say, you could stay in my house…”
God, she loved this man. She smiled and shook her head, even though he couldn’t see her. “Thank you. That’s very generous of you. But…I’m okay for now.”
Because the next time she set foot in that house, it would be with him by her side.
“Are you seeing anyone? Dating, I mean?” His hoarse question surprised her. He had seemed so intent on keeping things more or less impersonal, this seemed to come out of left field.
“I’ve been on several dates. My therapist said it would be good for me to get out with members of the opposite sex. Most of them were setups, y’know? Men my family and friends know. Nice guys that they could personally vouch for. Then again, Blaine was a so-called nice guy. So, there’s that. But they all seemed decent. I even went on a few repeat dates with some of them.”
The silence on the other end of the line was so thunderous it almost deafened her.
“And you?”
“What about me?”
“Have you been seeing anyone?”
“No.”
Her lips stretched into a grin so wide, it physically hurt. “Oh? Then how do you intend to meet this future wife you spoke of earlier?”
He ignored her question in favor of one of his own, “Are you still seeing any of those guys?”
“Well, I’m moving. So there’s no point really. Lia says she has a few guys she’d like me to meet, but Riversend and surrounds have a much smaller dating pool.”
“So you’re actively seeking men to date right now?”
“I wouldn’t say actively…They’re just kind of being referred to me by everybody else. To be honest, I had no idea there were still so many single guys in my age group. Some of them were younger than my thirty years, but most of them are in their thirties. They’re not even divorced or widowed. Just never been married. That’s interesting, right?”
The Best Next Thing Page 33
