The Best Next Thing

by Natasha Anders

  “Miles, you’d be uprooting your whole life.”

  He tenderly grasped her chin between his thumb and index finger and tipped her head back until she could see his eyes.

  “Charity, you are my life. And since you’re here, that means my life is here.”

  “Oh, Miles.” Her eyes flooded, and she rewarded the beautiful sentiment with a kiss. She was somber when she lifted her lips from his. “Miles, I’m doing well. I’m a lot better and making great strides in dealing with my past. But I’m a work in progress. I’ll need therapy for a long time to come. Maybe permanently…and there’ll be times a sudden move or an argument will trigger my fight or flight response. I want you to understand that I know you will never hurt me. I know you’re an amazing, gentle man and on the—hopefully rare—occasions when that does happen, I don’t want you to be hurt or think it’s about you. It’s always about me.”

  His arms tightened protectively around her, and he kissed the top of her head sweetly.

  “I won’t pretend that I’m okay with that, sweetheart. It’ll hurt. Even though I know where it’s coming from. But I’d be happy to attend any couple’s therapy sessions you think we may need to help us deal with those moments.”

  “You would?”

  “Of course.”

  “I don’t want you to think you should walk on eggshells around me. I enjoy a good argument or disagreement as much as the next person. I can’t control where or when it happens. But I do know it won’t happen all the time. And hopefully with time, patience, and therapy, we’ll move past it.”

  “Well, since we’re confessing secrets. Here’s one about me you don’t know. And I don’t want you to look at me any differently…because I know how much of a freak you’ll think I am because of it.”

  Charity’s eyes widened, and she levered herself onto her elbow to watch him curiously.

  “I’m fucking deathly afraid of heights.”

  “No.” To say she was shocked would be understating it.

  “Yeah…your jumping off cliffs and out of planes stories? Terrifying. Why do you think this house is built on one level? When the views would be so much more panoramic from a second floor?”

  “But the basement stairs…”

  “Oddly, knowing the stairs are below ground, so to speak, makes it less horrifying. I mean, I can stare into a deep, cavernous hole. But I can’t handle that exact same distance down, from the top of a building. And flying is fine too. If I’m not sitting close to the window, I can fool my brain into thinking I’m on a bus or something. Weird, right?”

  “To be honest, I thought you were weird long before this. I mean, the lobsters, the odd ‘wannabe but can’t’ vegetarian thing, and the only song you know is I’m Too Sexy, for God’s sake!”

  “Absolutely not true,” he protested vehemently. “I know plenty of other songs. I just can’t ever seem to hum them.”

  “See? Weird!”

  “God, how the hell did I survive so many months without you?” he wondered, abruptly serious.

  “We’re together now. And this is all that matters. Well this and…”

  She allowed her voice to taper off, and she didn’t have to wait long for the impatient prod. “And what?”

  “Well, I need to know what happened with Willow and Delonix.”

  He shook with silent laughter. “How the hell should I know? I couldn’t finish the damned book without you, could I?”

  “Really?” Hearing him tell her he loved her was one thing…but this right here. This was proof of that love.

  “Yes really, I missed you and listening to the book made it worse.”

  She could feel herself beaming and knew her face must have lit up like a Christmas tree. His irritated words made her so damned happy.

  “We’ll finish it tomorrow,” she promised, climbing on top of him to straddle his thighs.

  “Yes,” he nodded eagerly, whether in response to her enthusiastic grinding against his cock or to her words, she couldn’t be certain. Until he added, “And then start the next part of the adventure. Together.”

  The haunting strains of Wagner’s wedding march beautifully plucked from the strings of an elegantly curved pedal harp, swelled to a sobbing crescendo as the bride reached the end of the rose petal strewn red carpet. Her handsome groom, his face a study in reverence, adoration, and love, waited with tightly folded hands. As if he had to physically restrain himself from reaching for her.

  “Who gives this woman to marry this man?” The minister intoned seriously, despite the grin on her face.

  “I do,” the handsome man beside the beautiful bride replied, his voice brimming with pride and emotion. He lifted her veil and planted a sweet kiss on her cheek, before removing her hand from the crook of his elbow and transferring it to her waiting groom’s hand.

  “You’d better take good care of her, George.” The words were thick with warning, and the guests tittered in amusement, even though Charity knew he wasn’t joking at all. He took his seat next to hers, his eyes shimmering with emotion he swiftly hid behind a pair of dark glasses.

  “Big baby,” she whispered in his ear, and he turned his head to give her an impassive look. As if he could fool her with a pair of aviator sunglasses and a downturned mouth. He was a blubbering mess behind that disguise.

  After nearly a year of courtship—well, “courtship” was probably too formal a word for canoodling that went on between the two of them—George was finally making an honest woman of his beloved Enid. The woman had pretty much moved to Riversend with Miles. But even though she ostensibly lived at her son’s house, she had never spent any significant time there. Instead, she had practically moved into George’s house.

  Which had suited Miles and Charity just fine because Charity had moved in with Miles.

  And she had never been happier. Business was thriving, she spoke with her family often, and kept up with her therapy sessions. She had made so many friends since returning to Riversend, and she was becoming a valued member of the community. She had even allowed Sam to coerce her into teaching a few self-defense classes.

  Life was good, and at the center of it all was the man beside her. He had traveled more than he’d initially intended to, but always hurried home to her. They were ecstatic. And more and more in love every day.

  Her hand crept into his. Because, despite his stoicism, she knew this was an emotional day for him. Her gorgeous, strong man was a little tearful because his mother was getting married.

  Charity watched the couple exchange their I do’s. Vicki and Nina were bridesmaids, and Hugh the best man. And Miles, duty done, sat and watched as his mother married her beloved George.

  “It was a lovely wedding,” Charity reflected that evening.

  “It was nice,” Miles agreed, he had finished brushing his teeth and was watching her moisturize her face with a dreamy smile on his face.

  “They were thrilled with their wedding gift. That was a lovely thing you did for them.”

  “I couldn’t have them living in a one-bedroom house. She would drive George nuts, they’d fight, and then she’d wind up back on my doorstep.” He folded his arms over his naked chest and shook his head. “Nope, it’s better this way. A bigger house will allow them both space to preserve their sanity.”

  “I didn’t think George would accept it.” There had been a moment when George had looked on the verge of giving back the title deed of the modest three-bedroom house in town that Miles had bought for them. But in the end, he had hugged Miles and thanked him emotionally.

  “George is a wise man. He loves my mum and he knew a bigger house would make her happy. Mum’s a humble woman,” he said. “And she would have been content in George’s old place, but they needed more space. They both knew that.”

  Charity massaged the excess moisturizer into the skin of her hands and forearms, never shifting her eyes from his somber face.

  She got up from her dresser to gift him with a tender kiss.

  “I love you,
you know that?”

  “I have an inkling, yes.” He curled his arms around her waist and squeezed her close. He whistled and the incongruous sound startled Charity into looking up.

  Stormy came trotting into the room and, momentarily diverted, Charity shifted her glance down to the dog, and then huffed an exasperated sigh.

  “Now what? I thought she was done with this,” she groused. She moved out of Miles’s arms to kneel on the carpeted floor and call Stormy over. She made a tut-tutting sound and tugged at the random offering Stormy had dangling from her slobbering mouth.

  “Ugh, so much drool,” she complained, as she investigated the mysterious object. Not sure what it was. She glared at Miles irritably. “In fact, next time you can retrieve whatever gross gift your dog decides to bri—Miles?”

  He looked odd. Green around the gills and ashen around the mouth and…gray in the face. So many awful shades of hideous colors.

  He swallowed thickly and his eyes bugged. Not an attractive look on him at all.

  Confused…and more than a little alarmed, Charity pushed to her feet, her intention to touch test his forehead for fever. But when he collapsed to one knee, she gasped, terrified that he was seriously ill.

  God! Where was her phone? She instinctively looked down at her hand. No that wasn’t her phone it was the thing Stormy had brou—she peered more closely at the item in her hand.

  It was a box.

  Breathing became the hardest thing in the world. A chore. An impossibility.

  She swayed, feeling light-headed as she continued to stare at the beribboned box.

  Miles was still on the floor. He could have passed out by now, she wouldn’t know. So focused was she on that box.

  She slid the ribbon off, wrinkling her nose at how wet it was…Stormy had carried the box by the ribbon. She exhaled slowly and flipped the lid up.

  And then covered her mouth with her free hand as she stared at the stunning, oval, flawless sapphire in awe. The stone was flanked by two smaller diamonds and set on a slender white gold band.

  Her confused gaze leaped to Miles’s. He was still on the floor. On bended knee. Dressed in a pair of loose gray sweatpants, barefoot, bare chested, with dark stubble blooming on his jaw and lean cheeks, and his short black hair mussed.

  He was, and always would be, the most beautiful man she had ever known.

  “Charity Ella Cole, I love you more than anything else in this whole damned world. You’re my best friend and having you in my life is—quite simply—the most wonderful thing to ever happen to me. I can’t imagine being without you. I want to spend forever with you, I want to have children with you. And you would make me the happiest man alive if you wanted those things too. Will you marry me?”

  Her lips trembled and her eyes were misty with the tears already streaming down her cheeks.

  She knelt beside him and threw her arms around his neck, unbalancing him and sending them both to toppling to the floor. Delighted with this awesome new game, Stormy barked and leaped on top of both of them, licking every surface of available skin she could reach.

  They convulsed with laughter, trying to push the dog off, but Stormy seemed to think it was part of the game and redoubled her efforts. They were a crazy tangled mess of limbs, hair, and fur and—in the midst of all that happy chaos—Charity said yes.

  This wasn’t an easy book to write. I had so many doubts about the story, the characters, the subject matter. But thankfully, I had so many who believed in me, encouraged me to go for it, and talked me out of giving up entirely. Completing this story would not have been possible without them.

  Rae Rivers for always listening. Hopefully we’ll be able to resume our brunches soon.

  Jo Watson for your unwavering support, the brainstorming sessions, the fun and laughter. You rock, lady!

  Ashleigh Giannoccaro for your invaluable advice throughout the editorial/pre-publishing phase. I can’t wait for our wine tour.

  My cousin, Melanie Cupido, thanks for reading it and telling me it didn’t suck (if she thought it sucked, trust me, she would have told me).

  Ilona Ahrens for the beta read. You like to call yourself a fan, but I think of you as a good friend.

  Kimberley Whalen – my amazing agent. I owe you everything.

  May Sage – for helping me navigate these foreign waters. I appreciate it so much!

  Dr. Yomika Venketsamy, Masters of Technology (Chiropractic). I loved our chats. Thank you for sharing your knowledge with me. Charity’s chiropractic competence is thanks only to you.

  I know too many women who have suffered through domestic violence. This book is for them and for all the others I do not know.

  With nearly a million books sold, Natasha Anders has been drawing praise and attention as a unique voice in romance since 2012. Her first novel, The Unwanted Wife, was a bestselling sensation and remains a consistent favorite among readers. Her 2017 novel, The Wingman, the first in her new Alpha Men trilogy, was a finalist for a 2018 Romance Writers of America RITA Award.

  Born in Cape Town, South Africa, Anders spent nine years as an associate English teacher in Niigata, Japan, where she became a legendary karaoke diva. Anders currently lives in Cape Town with her temperamental chihuahua, Maia; her moody budgie, Baxter; sweet little chihuahua Hana; and her little wingman, adorable parrotlet, Mason.

  Readers can connect with her through her Facebook page, on Twitter at @satyne1, or at www.natashaanders.com

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments