Even though she said she wasn’t done with it, it still hurt like hell to already be referred to as part of her past. But still, he’d take it. And be damned grateful for it. Because for a dreadful, heartbreaking, devastating moment there, he had been so certain that this was it for them.
Goodbye.
But it wasn’t. Not yet.
It was a reprieve. A stay of execution. All the more painful because he knew that it was temporary…the last gasp of a dying relationship.
He stared into her tear-drenched face. Her nose was red, her cheeks blotchy, eyes red and swollen…and yet she had never been more beautiful.
This was the beginning of the end for them. And Miles was going to make damned sure their journey to that end followed an iridescent rainbow path toward a glorious technicolor sunset.
“Why do I have to look at these?” Miles glared at the tablet Charity had placed on the table in front of him. He had recoiled from it like it was a venomous snake.
“You need to find my replacement.”
She had compiled a list of résumés that she felt were suitable and wanted to start arranging interviews. He acted cagey whenever she mentioned his return to London, and in the three days since they had returned from Gracie’s party, he hadn’t mentioned a possible departure date yet.
Not that she was pushing him for one. She was dreading it as much as he appeared to be. But she had to arrange for the closure of the house. Had to organize her transportation back to the Cape. Pack. All of that would be much easier to plan if she had some dates to work with.
“You’re irreplaceable.”
The words were gruff and practically barked at her. But Charity’s heart still turned to mush and puddled into her stomach, leaving her feeling warm and fuzzy and a little queasy. Because he kept saying things like that, and she wanted to scream at him to just stop.
It wasn’t making the situation any easier.
“Miles,” she began tentatively. “We’re living in a bubble right now. And it’s wonderful in here. Everything feels so right between us. But none of this is real. A few months from now, you’ll be remembering this in fond confusion and wondering why it all felt so intense.”
He shook his head and swept the tablet aside in an irritated motion. She encased his hand in both of hers and gave it a comforting squeeze.
“You know it’s true.”
“This is real to me, Charity. Excruciatingly fucking real.”
She swallowed trying to ease the ache that had lodged in her throat.
She was beginning to think she should have chosen to stay with her family when he had given her the option to do so. She could have returned later to say her goodbyes and sort out her belongings.
Because this protracted farewell with Miles wasn’t a sweet, romantic interlude filled with warm, wonderful moments.
It was raw and brutally intense.
“Let’s go for a walk,” she suggested. Pushing to her feet, she tugged at his hand, and he reluctantly allowed himself to be pulled up. “The fresh air will do us both some good.”
Stormy danced around their feet. Walk was her absolute favorite word, and she went into rapturous spasms every time somebody said it. She dashed back and forth between the kitchen door and Miles, clearly keen to get going.
“Okay, pup, we’re getting there,” Miles muttered, shaking his head. They grabbed their coats and Stormy’s leash and harness.
“She’s going to miss the lake,” Miles observed, as he watched his dog streak up the shore ahead of them. Lately he had allowed her more freedom off leash on their walks, especially when they walked along the familiar lakeshore.
“Do you think you’ll be able to devote the same amount of time to her, when you’re back at work?” Charity asked. It was a question that had begun to plague her a lot recently. Man and dog were inseparable, and she wasn’t sure how Stormy was going to cope once she wasn’t the center of Miles’s universe anymore.
He slanted her a surprised look. “Of course, I will.”
The absolute certainty in his voice surprised her.
“She’ll be coming in to work with me. I’m considering implementing a dog friendly workplace. A lot of companies are doing it. It reduces stress, boosts morale and productivity…”
“You’ve been reading up on it, I take it?” she said, a wry note in her voice and he wrinkled his nose, before grinning sheepishly.
“Busted. Yes. I was trying to figure out how I could get away with bringing her to work every day and then reckoned it wouldn’t be fair unless everybody else is allowed the same opportunity. The dogs would have to be socialized, toilet-trained, and we naturally have to consider those with phobias and allergies as well. But it’s doable. But I for damned sure am not leaving Stormy without me for long stretches at a time.”
“That’s fantastic, Miles,” Charity said, happy for both man and dog. Well, mostly for Miles. The man was a wreck without his dog.
Stormy was enthusiastically digging a hole in the soft white sand, a few yards ahead of them, and Charity smiled at her antics. She was going to miss the adorable foundling.
“Tell me what you miss most about your home?” she impulsively invited. Wanting him to focus on the good things he would be returning to and obsess less about what he was leaving behind.
He gave a look that told her he knew exactly what she was doing, but he shifted his shoulders restlessly and inhaled deeply.
“My family obviously. And their messy problems. They’ve been keeping me out of their relationship and work dramas since I’ve been here, and I admit it’s left me feeling useless. Which is odd since, six months ago, I would probably dearly have loved to be left out of their chaotic personal lives.”
“I don’t believe that. You like being needed by them. Admit it.”
“Maybe I do. A little bit.”
“Of course, you do. More than a little bit I’d say. What else do you miss? Work?”
“Not entirely. I thought I’d go stir crazy not knowing what was happening with the business…but I’ve barely given it a second thought. I trust Bryan to keep things running smoothly and I trust Hugh to have my—and the family’s—best interests at heart. I think I may loosen the reins once I return, allow Hugh more leeway to try new things.”
“What else do you miss? A more active social life?”
He snorted at that.
“How many times do I have to tell you that I’m shit with people, before you believe me?”
“But you’re not shit with people. I’ve seen you with the people in town. With Sam and Greyson. George and Amos. They like you, and they all strike me as pretty decent judges of character.”
“Half of the people you’ve listed work for me. They have a vested interest in keeping me happy.”
Charity laughed, genuinely amused by that statement. “I mean, have you met George Clark and Amos Moloi? Two of the most straight-talking, zero bullshit old men I’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing? They couldn’t care less about keeping you happy. But they do because they like you. More people than you realize like you, Miles.”
He stopped walking and turned to face her, his eyes narrowed against the blustery wind.
“What’s this about, Charity?”
“I don’t know. I just wish you could see yourself the way I do.”
“And how’s that?” His voice had deepened, roughened. The gravel scraped her raw and left her on fire.
Stormy’s loud squeal saved her from replying, and they both looked up in alarm at the sound. The dog had leaped back from the hole and was still yelping, her left front paw held aloft in obvious pain.
“Shit!” Miles streaked down the beach toward his still crying dog, with Charity close behind. By the time she caught up, he was on his knees in the sand, the trembling pup held protectively in his lap. He was examining the paw.
“One of the pads is bleeding. It doesn’t look too terrible, but I’m not taking any chances, we have to get her to the vet.”
�
��Oh my God,” Charity went to her knees beside him and stared at the sluggishly bleeding paw. The blood was mixed with fine beach sand. The wound would definitely need cleaning. “Did she cut herself? Is there glass in there? A nail?”
“No.” He shook his head grimly, glaring out at the tranquil lake. “I think she got nipped by a crab. It was scuttling toward the water by the time I reached her.” He got up, the shivering, whimpering dog still gently cradled in his arms.
They were all piled into the SUV and on their way in under ten minutes. Stormy, clearly in pain, whined all the way to town and Miles, his eyes stark and his features taut, barely spoke a word during the entire drive.
Fortunately, Dr. McGregor considered the situation enough of an emergency to see them immediately, but after cleaning the wound and examining it, he smiled reassuringly at the still tense Miles.
“It’s just a flesh wound, as they say in the movies,” he quipped. “I’ll apply some salve and bandage the paw, but you won’t need to keep it on overnight or anything. It’s just to allow the salve some time to work without being licked off. Besides, this young miss is feeling very sorry for herself. A bandage will make her feel vindicated after all this drama. I’ll give her an anti-inflammatory shot, prescribe a course of antibiotics, and she’ll be right as rain soon enough.”
“You sure about that?” Miles barked, but the vet—obviously quite used to being barked, and snapped, and snarled at—merely smiled gently.
“Absolutely certain. I think you were right about a crab being the likely culprit. If nothing else, this will give her a healthy respect for all things crustacean. Sometimes we need to learn life’s lessons the hard way.”
Miles sagged in relief and after bombarding the vet with after care questions, they finally left. Charity watched as he murmured sweet, reassuring, little nothings to a sleepy Stormy…entirely focused on his dog, but still concerned enough about Charity to constantly check over his shoulder if she was following.
She had once believed that Blaine would be the literal death of her. But this complicated, sweet, caring man…he was the one who was going to end her. And the longer she stayed here with him like this, the worse it was going to be. She had to leave.
Soon.
Because if she didn’t, she wouldn’t have a beating heart left in her chest when she returned home to her family. Miles would have stolen it from her completely.
The drive back to the house was as silent as it had been in to town…but when he parked the car in the basement garage, she broke the silence before he could unbuckle his seatbelt.
“I’m leaving.”
His head swiveled, and his intense eyes honed in on her face.
“What do you mean?”
“On Saturday. I think that’ll give me enough time to say my goodbyes and arrange to ship the bulk of my things to my parents. I’ll leave you the shortlist of names and résumés for my replacement. If you don’t want to do it, I’m sure Lia will be happy to help. She knows a few of the ladies on the list and can give you some sound advice on who would be best for the job.”
“But…what about us?”
“Miles. This is for the best. Before we get too attached.”
“What the fuck does that mean?” His voice rose, and Stormy whimpered, startled out of a sound sleep. “Christ, Charity, I’m already attached. And I know you are as well. Why are you cheating us out of the last bit of time we could have together?”
She swiped at a few errant tears, refusing to make this worse by crying. But it was so hard when he looked so unreservedly distraught. Like his whole world was imploding.
“I’m sorry, Miles. I thought I could do this. But I can’t. I can’t do the long, lingering goodbye thing. I wish…” She shook her head. Nothing she said now could make this hurt less, for either of them. “I’m sorry.”
She pushed open the door and trudged toward the staircase. She heard the driver’s door open and shut, and his feet pounding on the polished concrete floor as he ran to catch up with her. Which he did…cutting off her route to the stairs with the bulk of his body.
“You can’t do this,” he growled, his teeth clenched, and his entire body bristling.
“Miles, please, don’t make this more difficult than it has to be.”
“Can you at least fucking tell me why?”
“Why? Because you make me feel too much. Because I have to have something of myself left when I leave here…and if I stay here much longer I won’t. It’ll all belong to you. And I’ll be no good to anyone then.”
“Goddamnit, Charity, you’re not the only one who—” His hand sliced through the air, a sudden, vicious movement that came out of nowhere, and Charity flinched reflexively, covering her head with her arms.
It was an instinctive reaction, made in response to the movement and not the man. And she uncurled from her protective huddle within seconds. Feeling sheepish for the overreaction to what she had always known was just an angry gesture, she lifted her eyes, her immediate instinct to apologize to Miles. But he was staring at her fixedly, his throat working, his eyes wide, his skin deathly pale.
He looked wrecked and wretched. “I wasn’t going to…I would never…”
That he felt the need to explain broke her heart. As if she would ever believe he would hurt her.
As if he could.
“No, Miles. Of course, you wouldn’t. I’m sorry. It wasn’t you. I just reacted to the sudden movement.”
“I wouldn’t hurt you.” He looked dazed, hurt, shocked.
“I know.” She took his hand and squeezed it, wanting to reassure him. “Miles. I know that. Okay? This is not a you thing. This is very much a me thing. And one of the countless things I have to fix about myself. I mean, we can’t even have a decent argument without me flaking out on you. That’s not normal, Miles, and it’s on the long list of reasons this has to end. Sooner rather than later.”
He didn’t respond. His eyes still had that harrowing, hollow look in them, and Charity wasn’t sure if anything she said now could improve the situation.
“I have to get Stormy,” he murmured, turning away stiffly.
“Miles…” His name was a miserable whisper on her lips. Not loud enough for him to hear and turn back.
But it was probably better if he didn’t turn back. If he never turned to her again.
She stifled a sob and screwed her eyes shut.
Inhaled deeply, threw back her shoulders…
And continued on.
For the first time in over two weeks, they did not share a bed. And Miles found himself unable to sleep because of it.
He missed her. Missed the way she hogged the covers, and that adorable snorting snuffle on every third breath. He missed her warmth, and the way she often curled up tightly against his side, crowding him almost off the bed. He had quickly grown accustomed to her presence, and not having her next to him felt wrong.
The pain of loss was intolerable. And it was made worse by his recognition that this was how the next thousand nights would be. And the thousand after that.
This was what all his nights would be like.
He would be alone. Lonely. Lost.
Forever…
He sat up in bed, propping himself up against the headboard to stare into the black, desolate void of the night. The perfect canvas against which to replay the tormenting memory of Charity flinching away from him, over and over again.
If he lived to be a hundred, he would never forget the way she had curled herself up in fright against the violence of his movement. He had been responsible for that reaction. No matter what she said, the blame lay with him. He knew her history and should have foreseen how she would react to an unpredictable motion like that in the middle of a heated argument.
It had been fucking unforgivable.
He scrubbed his hands over his face. Calling himself every awful name under the sun.
And she was leaving him. So much sooner than he was ready to let her go. But considering how today went
that was probably for the best anyway.
His phone chimed, and he glared at its brightly lit face on the nightstand. He reached for it, and then frowned at the message displayed on the lock screen.
Hey!! Guess what?
He sighed and swiped the screen to get into his message app. Vicki may prove exactly the diversion he needed right now.
What?
You’ll find out soon enough
What the hell was that supposed to mean?
What are you up to, Vic?
Who me????? Nothing. Just your beloved sister being beloved. Hugs!!!!!!!!!!
Vicki!!
Miss you, big bruvva.
He sent a few more texts demanding answers, but they remained unread.
Damn it!
He hoped she wasn’t up to something ridiculous again. His sister was sweet, creative, and smart as a whip…but she was stupidly impulsive at times. He trusted that Chambers would keep her from doing anything too imprudent.
He sighed disconsolately. As diversions went, this one hadn’t been particularly effective because his mind refocused on Charity all too damned soon.
He should get used to it. Because this was just the start of the rest of his miserable life without her.
Charity was already prepping for breakfast by the time Miles dragged himself out of bed and into the kitchen the following morning. He had succumbed to a restless doze shortly before sunrise and had barely scraped together three hours of sleep.
He was in a dark emotional space, and seeing her standing in the middle of the kitchen back in her Mrs. Fucking Cole get up, felt like a shot to the heart.
“Morning,” she greeted, eyes averted, as she removed a carton of eggs from the fridge.
He said nothing. Instead he glared at her until she lifted her gaze to meet his.
“Why are you dressed like that?”
She carefully placed the eggs on the island between them and gave him an imploring look. “Miles…”
“Why, Charity?”
“I thought it would be easier.”
“Easier to use the same shield that worked for you after years of spousal abuse?” Didn’t she get what a total fucking affront that was? “You thought you needed it with me? After everything we…”