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 from 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