by Jenna Harte
“He came to a bunch of gallery parties. He was an intense man. I still can’t believe he married a simple southern girl.”
“Hey! Lexie is not simple.”
“Oops. Sorry.” Julia frowned, or at least tried to. The alcohol was softening the muscles in her face. “Those people aren’t growing on you, are they? You’re still planning to move back to New York after your sabbatical, right?”
“Yes.” Saying it broke her heart. “But I’ll miss many of the people I’ve met there.”
Julia started to say something, but thankfully, Patrick stole her wine bottle, effectively distracting her.
“You know I’ve got more.” Julia stood and staggered toward the kitchen.
Sydney quickly reached toward the cushion to make a play for her phone.
“I can see you, Preston. Don’t you dare get that phone. You’re grounded from it until tomorrow.”
“My mom says he was worried.”
“Then your mom can tell him you’re okay. You’re having wine with your oldest and dearest friends.”
Sydney glanced toward Patrick, hoping he’d help, but he was looking at his phone. Feeling surly, she said, “Patrick is using his phone.”
His head shot up, and he fumbled to get his phone back in his pocket.
“Give it.” Julia held her hand out to him.
“I will not. I…I may have a patient.”
“Why all the flushing and stammering for a patient? Does Patrick have a girlfriend?” Sydney teased. The idea of it made her happy and a bit relieved. Julia had never been warm to Patrick’s love interests, except Sydney. It didn’t take a shrink to know Julia would see any other woman in Patrick’s life as a threat. He was all she had, and she wouldn’t want him to be with anyone who could impact her access to him. So it was no wonder he might be secretive about it.
Julia’s narrow eyes scrutinized him for a moment. Then she shrugged. “Let’s go get pizza.”
“We just ate.” Patrick huffed out a breath. “By the time we get there, they’ll be ready to close.”
“I want to go. Come on, Sydney. You said you haven’t had good pizza in a long time.”
“She’s right. I wouldn’t mind a slice.”
Patrick rolled his eyes, which was pretty much par for the course when he was with them.
“I’ll call a car.” Julia skipped off to the other room.
“I think we spoil her.” Patrick stuck his hands in his pockets, something he did when he was annoyed but giving in.
“Of course.” Sydney slipped her hand through Patrick’s arm. “But if not us, then who?”
The next morning, Sydney stopped by her parents’ home. The night before she’d had a good cry, great friendship, and excellent pizza. Now she was ready to face her parents and their worry about her stalker.
“Sydney.” Her mother hugged her, holding her a little longer than usual. “Did you have fun with Julia and Patrick?”
“Yes. It’s nice to be back in New York.” She followed her mother to the dining area, where breakfast and her father already sat.
“Sydney.” He stood and hugged her, kissing her on the cheek. “Just in time for food.”
“Did you call Mitch?” Her mother sat across from her father.
“Ah… no. Julia hid my phone.”
“Don’t you have it now?”
“Yes,” Sydney said slowly, confused about how pushy her mom was being regarding Mitch.
“So?”
“I’m surprised at how important this is to you.”
“It’s about good manners, Sydney. He’s worried and it sounds like for good reason. It’s rude to make him worry you might be dead just because he’s not a very good boyfriend.”
Sydney was going to correct her mother. Mitch wasn’t her boyfriend. He was her lover, if even that. But this was her mother and her father. She might have become more daring in her sexual escapades with Mitch, but she wasn’t at a point she could talk about it with her parents.
She went to the foyer hall closet, where her parents’ butler had hung her purse and pulled out her phone. Finding Mitch’s text, she replied, I’m fine, hit send, and closed the phone. It was curt and probably petty, but she still stung from his reaction and was trying to avoid the guilt of telling him he was broken.
She re-entered the dining area and sat. “I replied to his text.”
Her mother’s hard stare and thin-lipped grimace said she didn’t approve.
“What now?” Sydney felt like she was a teenager about to be reprimanded for breaking the rules.
“It’s not like you to be so insensitive. You sought him out wanting closure. You got it. It sounds like you’d expected something else, but that’s on you. You said he wasn’t interested in a committed relationship.”
Sydney let out a breath. There was truth to her mother’s statement. To a certain extent, she’d brought it all on herself. While that last night at Mitch’s had been more caring and loving than an affair, he’d never said anything to change the status quo. Even his comment that she mattered wasn’t a declaration of love.
“I’m angry he was so quick to think I lied and betrayed him.”
“Betrayed?” Her father looked up from his soft -boiled egg. “You wouldn’t do that.”
“She wouldn’t, but what an interesting choice of words.” Her mother stopped buttering her scone. “In order to feel betrayed, you have to care.”
Sydney pushed her food around her plate. Worried she was sulking, she set her fork on the white linen tablecloth and picked up her coffee. “What do you mean?”
“If your relationship was casual, or even cool, as you suggested, what would he care whether you lied about the letters? It’s just about the sex, right?”
Sydney choked on her coffee. “I didn’t lie.”
“No, but what’s the big deal unless he cares? He was hurt by what he perceives was a lie on your part. He can’t be hurt unless he’s invested in the relationship.”
Hope blossomed in Sydney. He had been wrong to automatically assume she’d lied and not hear her out, but that was part of being hurt too, right? Not wanting to hear excuses because he didn’t want to be duped again. She’d made it worse by saying he was broken.
Still, if there was a chance for them, Mitch would need to learn to trust. She wasn’t sure he could do that. At least not with her, given their history.
“I’m not saying you need to get back with him, Sydney. You deserve someone who loves, respects, and trusts you. But it’s possible he has unresolved feelings like you do.”
“You’re right. I hadn’t considered that.”
“I want to hear about this attack.” Her father pushed back his breakfast plate and picked up his coffee.
“Yes. Does Mitch have any suspects?” her mother asked.
Sydney told them what had happened and even included that Mitch had talked to Patrick and Jagger Talbot. Her parents agreed it was a waste of his time, and Sydney found herself defending Mitch, saying he was thorough.
After breakfast, Sydney needed time on her own. She considered going to her room but then decided she wanted to get out. It was a beautiful spring day in New York. When Patrick called and invited her to meet him at Central Park, she had the perfect excuse.
“Will you be safe?” Her mother put an arm around her as they walked toward the front door.
“I’m meeting Patrick.” Granted, he wouldn’t be there for nearly two hours, but her parents didn’t need to know that. Besides, there were a ton of people and it was broad daylight.
“Alright. Tell him hello for me.”
Sydney put on her sweater and headed out the front door. She had a lot of thinking to do.
As she was leaving, she checked her phone. No messages from Mitch.
Mitch hadn’t realized how much money Lexie had married into until that morning when he’d boarded a private plane at the tiny county airport and flown to New York. The contrast between the green rolling hills of Virginia to the landscape of
buildings in New York City took his breath away.
A car with a driver named Carl who looked more like a small-town doctor with gray hair, a white handlebar moustache, and a twinkle in his blue eyes, waited as Mitch exited the plane. It was strange to be waited on, but since he knew nothing about getting around New York, he was happy to have the ride.
Sitting in the back of the sleek black car, Mitch understood the attraction of the Big Apple. The energy, colors, lights, and noise. There was so much to do. It would take years to do it all. Still, he knew himself well enough to know he was a country boy at heart. It made him think of Sydney. Would she be able to live in Charlotte Tavern beyond her sabbatical? Drake seemed to like small-town living, although he traveled to New York at least once a month.
Mitch shook his head. Why the hell was he thinking about Sydney living in Charlotte Tavern? Their moment had passed. He’d blown it by letting his fear and mistrust get the best of him. She wasn’t interested in a life with him. After all, he was broken. And yet, why else was he in New York? He told himself it was to apologize and protect her, but he didn’t have to dig very deep in his psyche to know he wanted another chance at love with her.
The car pulled up to the address Mitch had given his driver. He’d expected a building with a doorman, but this looked like a townhome, albeit a large, expensive one. Mitch took a deep breath and then rapped on the front door of the Prestons’ home.
A stiff-faced man in a dark suit opened the door.
“Is Sydney here?”
The man took in Mitch’s worn jeans and black T-shirt and rightfully assumed Mitch didn’t fit.
“Do you have an appointment?”
“I’m with the Charlotte Tavern Police.” Mitch held up his badge and hoped the butler didn’t make a call. If he did, Mitch probably would be forced to return the badge to his boss.
“You’re out of your jurisdiction.”
“Shall I call Detective Fletcher and get his crew of cops down here?” Mitch made a show of looking at the other houses along the street. Many prominent people had to live here. Just like in Charlotte Tavern, having the police outside your home caused talk. “I’m sure the neighbors will enjoy the show.”
The butler sniffed, as if Mitch had forgotten to shower, but he opened the door and let him in. “You can wait in here.”
Mitch entered a darkened room that reminded him of a museum. It seemed like forever before the butler returned.
“Mr. and Mrs. Preston will be with you shortly.”
“I want to see—”
But the butler had already left the room. Mitch shrugged. If he had to get through the parents to see Sydney, he’d do it.
“Mr. McKenna.”
He wanted to tell them to call him detective, but that was petty. Besides, the butler was right. On this visit, he was mister, not detective, because he had no authority in New York.
“Mr. and Mrs. Preston. I was hoping to see Sydney.”
“I’m sorry. She’s not in.”
Mitch waited a beat for Mrs. Preston to tell him more, but she simply stared at him.
He put his hands on his hips. “Can you tell me where she is?”
“I can assure you, she is safe.”
His jaw clenched. “Good to know, but I really need to talk to her.”
“You served in Iraq?”
Mitch’s mouth opened and then snapped shut, not sure how to respond to Sydney’s father. “Yes, sir.”
“It looks like you were injured.” Mr. Preston motioned to his face.
Mitch had met Sydney’s parents only a couple of times when he was in college. His impression of her father was that he was quiet, letting his wife take charge. Was this some sort of test of his merit to be Sydney’s suitor?
“Yes, sir.”
“Goodness.” Mrs. Preston leaned closer, studying the scars on Mitch’s cheek and neck. “The things you must have seen and experienced.”
How much of his story had Sydney told them? He took a calming breath and nodded to her.
“Too many young men losing their lives.” Mr. Preston shook his head.
“Yes, sir.”
Mrs. Preston pursed her lips. “You don’t talk much, do you?”
Mitch nearly laughed. Talking was what usually got him in trouble, especially with authority figures. “No, ma’am.”
“Sydney needs time to think.”
He wanted to ask what they’d talked about. After all, if there was something to think about, that meant there was hope.
“Are you staying in town?”
“I’m staying at my sister and brother-in-law’s place. Drake Carmichael.”
“So, it was your sister who stole Drake Carmichael’s heart.” The tone didn’t sound condescending, as he would have expected.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Drake had a reputation for being a coldhearted bastard and a southern woman turned him around.”
“Lexie has that effect on people.” It was a skill he didn’t have. Not anymore.
“You did too, if I remember correctly.” Mrs. Preston’s gaze assessed him. He fought the urge to squirm.
“War changes people,” Mr. Preston said.
You’re broken. “Thank you for your time.” Mitch turned to leave.
“Are you going to find out who is trying to hurt my Sydney?” Mrs. Preston’s voice, once cool and aloof toward him, was now imploring.
“Yes, ma’am.” He had no control over what the future held for him and Sydney, but he would make sure whoever was trying to hurt her would pay.
He walked down the steps to the sidewalk. Drake’s driver jumped from the car and opened the back door. Had Lexie gotten used to such service? At least it hadn’t gone to her head.
“Where to, Mr. McKenna?”
Mitch sat, wondering what to tell his driver. Sydney was off thinking in a city with eight million people and probably just as many places to think. Where should he start? And then it came to him.
“Can you take me to the Balto statue at Central Park?”
“I can get you close.”
Close would have to be good enough.
Chapter Nineteen
Sydney watched as Mitch approached. Her wary eyes filled him with dread.
“Must be some serious thinking going on, with you being here with Balto.” As opening lines, it was lame, but it got his mouth working. It didn’t take a genius to see she was done with him. He couldn’t blame her. He’d wanted something from her he hadn’t been willing to give: trust.
“Why are you here?”
He blew out a breath. “Many reasons. The first is to apologize.” He gestured toward a park bench, hoping they could sit. For a minute, he thought she was going to tell him to take a hike, but she acquiesced. He sat next to her and rubbed his hands down his thighs as if that would give him courage.
“I’m sorry, Syd. I really am. I just…” He struggled to find the words to adequately explain his behavior in a way that might have her forgiving him.
“I understand your initial reaction to seeing those letters.”
A piece of hope bloomed.
“What I don’t get is why you wouldn’t let me explain. It’s like you want the world to let you down, Mitch.”
“I don’t want the world to let me down.”
“Yes. You do. It’s the only way to justify why you work so hard to keep everyone out. But you were already keeping me out, so—”
“No.” He shook his head and wished he could take her hand and make her see. “I wasn’t keeping you out. I wanted to, but I couldn’t.”
She wrapped her arms around herself and turned away. The little bloom of hope withered. Finally, she turned back. “I’m sorry I said you were broken. That was mean and wrong.”
“I forgive you. Can you forgive me?”
Her lips were pressed together, as if she were trying to keep from crying. “Why are you here? What do you want?”
The irony of the situation would have been funny if he didn’t
feel his entire life was riding on this moment. How many times had he asked her the same question in Charlotte Tavern? Her answer had been evasive. Now the tables were turned. He wanted to be evasive too, because the hurt stabbing his heart now would be nothing compared to the hurt of hearing her tell him she didn’t love him.
He’d spent so much time and effort keeping his heart dead. He’d missed the signs when it started beating again, until Sydney walked out on him.
“I want to live again, Syd. And I want to have a relationship with you, even if it’s just friends. Without benefits.” That wasn’t all he wanted, but he needed to take small steps.
Her head dropped. “What about next time you see some perceived betrayal?” She shook her head. “I can’t do it anymore. I get it now, why you’re so guarded. Why you want to protect your heart.”
He swore at himself under his breath. He was a coward and an idiot. Whatever chance he and Sydney had to make something new was gone. Gone because he hadn’t recognized and cherished what had been blooming.
“I understand.” He sat for a moment, not wanting to give up and yet not wanting to push her either. “Will you be returning to Charlotte Tavern?”
She cocked her head. Her eyes shone with surprise. Had she expected him to fight harder for her? Should he fight harder? “Yes. I have a contract to fulfill.”
“That gives me some time then.” He studied her face to see if she understood. Already he had visions of flowers and candy, although deep down he knew the only way to win her back was by showing her he trusted her. He hoped he got the chance.
Her lips twitched upward, but her eyes maintained their wariness.
“In the meantime, you’re still in danger, and it’s my job to protect you.” Before she could protest, he added. “I can do it from a distance.”
She didn’t say anything for a long time. When she turned to him, tears swam in her eyes.
“Syd.” He wanted to pull her into his arms and take all her pain away, but he had no right. Instead, he pulled out a handkerchief and used it to wipe her tears. “I’m so sorry.”
She took the handkerchief and he tried to not see it as a good sign. He couldn’t get his hopes up. But he hadn’t thrown in the towel yet, either. He cupped her cheek with his hand, using a thumb to wipe a stray tear. She dipped her head into his palm, as if she welcomed his touch. He desperately wanted it to mean something.