The Best Next Thing

by Natasha Anders

  “Not particularly.” Charity was sure she could hear him gritting his teeth. It sounded painful. Her grin widened. “I mean, I’ve never been married.”

  “Why not?”

  “Work. And I’ve never met anyone with whom I wanted to spend my life…” She could practically hear the ellipsis in that statement. He had more to add but, of course, he stopped talking abruptly.

  “Ever?”

  “Are you toying with me, Charity?” The question was cold and curt and startled her. God, she didn’t want him to think this was some kind of game.

  “No, Miles. I’m not toying with you.”

  “Don’t ask me questions you’re not ready to hear the answers to.”

  “Maybe I am ready.”

  “Goodnight, Charity.” The words were abrupt. Final.

  Her lips quivered and a sob caught in her throat. This hadn’t been a good idea. She had believed that maybe if they could start talking again, they could work their way toward regaining what they had lost. But this just felt like more loss.

  “Goodnight, Miles.” The words emerged on a tremulous voice. Her fingers were so tightly clutched around the phone, they actually ached.

  “I’ll speak with you again soon.”

  He disconnected the call without waiting for a response…Totally oblivious to the fact that he had just thrown her a lifeline and saved her from drowning.

  Her eyes flooded, and she carefully set her phone aside to bury her face in her hands as reaction set in.

  He was going to speak with her again.

  Soon.

  Thank God.

  This is so strange. The words echoed through Charity’s head as she moved from person to person, mingling, chatting…laughing at silly jokes and making even sillier ones herself.

  So damned strange.

  It felt as if her life had come full circle. Just five months ago, so many of the people in this room had gathered in her name to say farewell. And now they had all assembled at her brand, spanking new consultation rooms, to celebrate her opening in two days’ time, on Monday.

  After passing her clinical competency test a month ago, Charity had wasted no time renting a couple of rooms in the tiny business center on Riversend’s Main Road. The center also housed a tax attorney’s practice, an accountant’s office, the pediatric clinic, a dentist’s surgery, and the vet’s office. And since the building was situated right next to the sports store slash gym, Charity was hoping for a lot of referrals.

  Setting up a chiropractic practice was an expensive endeavor, and Charity had taken great joy in using the money from Blaine’s estate to buy state-of-the-art equipment and the most luxurious, tasteful furniture she could find. There was enough left over to provide a financial cushion if the first six months of business proved slow.

  Whenever her gaze swept around the tastefully appointed reception area of her chiropractic practice, she felt a surge of nerves and the thrill of achievement. It was surreal how much her life had changed in so short a time.

  Her parents, as well as Faith and Stuart, had flown in to celebrate this attainment of one of the many dreams she now had for her future. Since it was summer vacation, Faith, Stuart, and Gracie had arrived a few days earlier to help Charity move into her new home, while she focused on setting up the consultation rooms. It had been a busy few weeks. Made even more frantic because they had to race to get all her professional equipment and tools delivered before the supply companies closed for the Christmas vacation.

  The country pretty much shut down for the entire month of December as holidaymakers sought to take advantage of the summer weather and many bank holidays. A lot of companies were closed for business until January. Charity had known trying to set up her practice in the weeks before Christmas would prove difficult, but it had been much more frenetic than she had expected.

  She had been exceedingly grateful for everyone’s help. Lia—on vacation because the kindergarten was closed for summer—had proven invaluable with the admin, while Daff had helped with leaflets and marketing. George had done so much driving for her, his daughter, Nina—an interior designer—had helped with the office décor, despite being just a few weeks shy of giving birth. Amos had insisted on helping with physical tasks that involved way too much manual labor. Not wanting the old man to hurt himself, Charity had instead given him her exact design layout plans, and had tasked him with ensuring the movers got everything in the right positions.

  And Greyson’s wife, Olivia, had kindly offered to cater tonight’s party at a discounted rate.

  Coming back to Riversend—home—had been the right thing to do. Her family fully supported her. And once she was fully settled and found a larger place to live…they would visit often.

  Everything was going phenomenally well.

  Except for one thing…

  She dug into her skirt pocket for her phone and checked the screen.

  Still no messages.

  She hadn’t heard from Miles in five days. No texts, calls, not even the occasional picture of Stormy. She had grown so used to hearing from him every day for the last six weeks, that his sudden silence filled her with dread.

  “Hey, stop mooning over your phone and pay attention to your guests!” Faith, ever the drill sergeant, commanded her. Charity grimaced and guiltily slipped her phone back into her pocket.

  Her sister slid an arm around her shoulder and gave her a squeeze, before handing her a glass of bubbly.

  “That’s better. This is your moment, sis! Enjoy it.”

  “I am,” Charity said. “I just…”

  She lifted a shoulder, not wanting to admit she hadn’t heard from Miles in a while. Her sister hadn’t been too impressed with the strange, chaste cyber relationship they had cultivated.

  “And what are you and Miles discussing this evening? How many laps you swam in the community pool last night? Stormy’s latest encounter with the French poodle in the park?” The questions were steeped in sarcasm, and Charity narrowed her eyes at her sister.

  “Stormy’s reaction to the poodle was cute,” she responded defensively, and Faith rolled her eyes.

  “You guys have been tiptoeing around each other for weeks. Start sexting, for God’s sake.”

  “Shut up! We’re doing fine.”

  Only, they weren’t.

  Faith threw her head back to glare at the ceiling for a second before levelling her gaze at Charity.

  “Charity, at this rate, you’re going to text yourself right into the friend zone. Does he even know that you want him back? Or does he think that this weird, impersonal texting friendship is all you have to offer?”

  The question made Charity pause. Was that what was happening? Did he think they were just friends? That this was all there was?

  “Charity,” Faith began. Her tentative voice immediately put Charity on the alert. Her sister was only tentative when she was getting ready to lay a painful home truth on someone. “The longer you delay having a proper conversation about your feelings with him, the harder it will be. And before you know it, all you’ll have is a casual, amicable, but ultimately impersonal, friendship. The periods between your messages will grow longer and longer, until you’ll be lucky to remember exchanging Christmas or birthday wishes.”

  “God, that’s depressing. When did you get so fricking gloomy?” Charity’s voice was teasing while everything inside her was withering up and dying. Faith was right. It was already happening. Five days without contact spoke for itself.

  “It’s the sad reality. You’re setting yourself up to fail, sis.”

  She blinked into her drink, trying to force the blurriness from her gaze. Not wanting anyone else to see the tears shimmering in her eyes. But Faith swore vehemently, and her arm slid around Charity’s shoulders again to give her another squeeze.

  “I’m sorry. Ignore me,” she apologized quietly. “I just want you to be happy. But that was a douchey thing to say. You’ve been so brave these last few months, Charity. That’s why it frustrates m
e to watch you lose your nerve in this. When it matters so much to you.”

  “I haven’t lost my nerve,” Charity denied. Even though she knew that some part of her was terrified of telling Miles the truth about how she felt. “I was just trying a different approach.”

  Faith smiled but did not look entirely convinced. Thankfully she chose not to pursue the topic, instead complimenting the spectacular food Olivia ‘Libby’ Chapman had provided for the modest event.

  Charity took her cue from her sister and determinedly pushed Miles and his lack of communication from her mind for the remainder of the evening. And while it wasn’t easy, she managed to go the next few hours without looking at her phone.

  “Are you sure you’re okay?” Faith asked three hours later, after the last of Charity’s guests had left.

  “I’m fine. You must be exhausted. You guys go and pick Gracie up and head back to your hotel. I’ll see you in the morning.” Charity could barely stifle a yawn as she spoke with her sister. Faith, Stuart, and Gracie, were staying at a quaint hotel outside of town. Charity’s house was simply too small to accommodate everyone. Her parents were currently occupying her shoebox-sized spare bedroom. The older couple had left the party an hour ago, pleading exhaustion.

  Lia’s parents were watching Gracie this evening.

  Faith looked reluctant to leave Charity by herself but also very tempted to take her at her word.

  “George will be back soon,” Charity placated her concerned sister. “He’s just taking Nina and Amos home.”

  George had been such a godsend these last few weeks. Charity hadn’t got around to buying a car yet, and George had happily volunteered his services. He had been unwilling to accept payment from Charity, until she had suggested treating his chronic lower lumbar strain as reimbursement for his chauffeuring services. Both parties felt like they were getting the better end of the deal.

  “You’re sure?” Faith asked again, and Charity rolled her eyes and directed her gaze over her sister’s shoulder to where Stuart was waiting at the door.

  “Get her out of here, will you? Before she fusses me to death.”

  The tall, prematurely balding, good looking man grinned. “Getting that woman to stop fussing is an exercise in futility.”

  “Hey, watch it, mister!” Faith warned, but her words carried little sting. Testimony to how exhausted she was. As was the yawn that she quickly smothered.

  “You sure you’re safe alone for a bit?” Stuart asked. “It’s nearly midnight.”

  “George will be here shortly. I’ll lock up after you leave, and nobody can gain access to the center without being buzzed in. And even if, despite the security measures, some bad guy still manages to get in here, rest assured I can kick his butt.”

  He chuckled. “Yeah, we know what a badass you are.” He directed his next comment at his visibly drooping wife. “Come on, love. She’s fine. Let’s get our kid and go to bed.”

  Faith didn’t protest. And after they exchanged a few hugs, with Faith exacting a promise from Charity to call after she got home, they left. Charity made a huge show of locking up behind them, and they waved at her through the glass door before wandering out of the center, hand in hand.

  Finally, alone with her thoughts for the first time in hours, Charity slumped down onto the comfortable waiting room sofa and buried her face in her hands for a moment.

  She was happy. She was. Sink or swim, this practice was everything she had ever dreamed of, and she was proud of getting this far.

  Her evening, surrounded by friends and family, had shown her that she was not alone, that people loved her.

  So why was she so damned melancholy?

  Something was missing, and it didn’t take genius to figure out what.

  She sighed despondently and dragged out her phone for the first time since her earlier conversation with Faith.

  No new messages, no missed calls, not even any junk mail.

  “Where are you?”

  The door buzzer to the center’s front door sounded, the sound strident and unexpected in the eerie silence of the building, and Charity jumped nearly all the way out of her skin. Reception was equipped with an intercom but not a screen to display street view camera images. It was an additional security measure which she was scheduled to receive early on in the new year, when the installation company reopened for business.

  She depressed the intercom button. “Yes?”

  “It’s me.” George’s jolly voice drifted through the speaker. Charity smiled and buzzed him in. She hastily unlocked the front door before turning away to gather her purse and one of the three platters of leftover food. If the canapés remained unrefrigerated overnight, they would go bad. Frankly, she was shocked there was any food left, it was so good. But Libby had provided generous portions.

  The door opened behind her.

  “George, would you mind grabbing these two trays? I can’t believe Libby made so much food. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do with the rest of it. Feel free to take a tray home to snack on. I know you liked the—” She turned to face the driver, and the rest of what she had been about to say died in her throat.

  “You’re not George,” she uttered blankly. Not sure if exhaustion was playing tricks on her eyes. Maybe she was hallucinating. Seeing what she so dearly wanted to see. Why else would Miles Henry Hollingsworth be standing in the middle of her reception area?

  “I’m not George,” he confirmed gravely. He looked tired. No, more than that; bone weary. Pale, untidy, and a little haggard.

  And so utterly gorgeous it hurt her to look at him.

  “You’re here. How? Why?” She couldn’t quite organize her thoughts. She wasn’t even sure if she was speaking to an actual person right now or a fabrication created by her exhausted mind.

  “I’m here. I think how is fairly self-evident. It’s the why that’s tricky.”

  “Why would you think it’s self-evident?” she asked, her voice teeming with resentment.

  “Fine. If you need the boring details…” He shook his head in exasperation. “Car, plane, car. Can we get back to the why now?”

  “Why did you stop messaging me?” Her words held a festering undertone of resentment.

  “Turns out, even a semi-retired chairman of the board can’t just up and leave his company twice in one year for extended ‘personal reasons’.” He used air quotes on those two words. “I had urgent business to take care of before I could free up the time to come here. Besides, I didn’t think our text messages were filled to the brim with urgent, unmissable content.”

  Ouch.

  She plucked at the hem of her blouse and twisted her mouth as she stared at him for a long silent moment.

  “The cat memes were funny,” she offered timidly, and his lips twitched.

  “Not much you can say about a cat meme. They don’t exactly open up avenues of conversation, and I wanted to talk with you.”

  “We were talking.” Okay, that came out sounding defensive. Perhaps because it confirmed everything Faith had said earlier.

  “We were not talking. We were doing some strange dance, and I didn’t know half of the steps.”

  She stared at him wonderingly, still not entirely sure he was real.

  “Charity! Are you listening to me?” Aah, that impatient tone was unmistakably Miles.

  She felt her lips part as her face bloomed into a smile.

  “You’re really here?” She was still clutching the platter of canapés in her hands and, in a lightning fast move, he plucked the tray from her grasp and set it aside. He bridged the distance between them enough for her to feel the delicious heat of his body, and inhale the woodsy fragrance of his aftershave, mingling with the slight musk of his sweat…evidence of the long flight he had just taken.

  “I’m here, sweetheart. Hat in hand, heart on my sleeve, wanting to know what the fuck is up with all those cat memes?”

  She sobbed and launched herself into his waiting arms.

  “You’re
here! I can’t believe you’re here!” Her words were muffled against his neck, and she clung to him tightly, terrified that he’d disappear if she let him go.

  “I wanted to be here in time for the party. But we had a weather delay at Heathrow. I’m sorry I missed it. I wanted to celebrate with you.”

  “George knew all along, didn’t he?”

  “He did. A driving service took me from the airport to the house, and George picked me up from there when he dropped Amos off.”

  “I’m so happy you’re here.”

  “Are you?” His arms tightened around her.

  “Yes.”

  “We need to talk, Charity. Are you expected at home tonight? George told me your parents are staying with you. Or…or, do you think we could…”

  “Let’s go to your place. Oh my God, the house has been closed for months. Did you remember to have the utilities switched on? There’s probably no food stocked…”

  “Charity,” he interrupted her panicked flood of words with an indulgent chuckle. “That’s no longer your job. Stop worrying about it. Everything has been arranged.”

  “How? You’re so used to me taking care of ev—” The rest of her words were muffled by the delicious pressure of his mouth on hers. She parted her lips and happily welcomed his tongue home. She groaned when he palmed her face and tilted her head back to deepen the kiss.

  He lifted his lips from hers and stared down into her eyes, a tender smile gracing his mouth.

  “I’ve missed you so fucking much.” He released her and took a reluctant step back, putting some space between them. “Where are these platters you need me to haul?”

  “Uh…you grab those two,” she said, pointing to the two on the reception desk, and lifting the third that he had taken from her earlier.

  “What’s happening with the clean up?” His gaze travelled around the room. There were champagne flutes and paper plates adorning various surfaces. Confetti and streamers on the floor. A few helium balloons drooping in the corners.