did. He snapped a pic of her in mid-yawn and sent it to Charity.
She doesn’t care. She says not to interrupt her nap again.
This time he didn’t have to wait long for a response. It came five seconds later, Rude.
Looks like you’re stuck with me now.
He held his breath and watched as she began formulating her response.
…
…
…
Was she composing a fucking essay?
…
…
Looks like it.
Oh.
He stared at the screen. Obsessing over those three words like it was a code in need of decrypting.
Looks like it.
How was he supposed to respond to that? He felt like he was navigating a minefield and one wrong step could blow him right the hell off the planet.
Fuck it.
He clicked on her number, sucked in a deep breath, and hit the call button.
She answered on the second ring. Her rich, husky voice was brimming with something that sounded suspiciously close to laughter, “Miles?”
“I don’t know what that means.” He exclaimed, the words out before he could stop himself, and immediately winced.
“I miss you.”
Well…there was no mistaking her meaning there. The words, though quiet, seemed to have been blurted out with the same impulsivity of his opening statement.
“It’s been three months.”
“Now, I’m the one who can honestly say I don’t know what that means.”
“I mean, we haven’t spoken in three months. Have you only started missing me now? Because let me tell you, woman, I’ve been missing you this entire time. And it seems to me that you’re a little late to the party.”
“It hasn’t taken me this long to realize that I miss you, Miles,” she told him, that laughter bubbling away beneath the surface again. “I’ve missed you this entire time as well.”
“Damn it, Charity. What the fuck are you doing?”
“I honestly don’t know. But I miss having you in my life. I like having you in my life.”
He was silent for so long, Charity would have thought the call dropped if not for the soft, uneven sough of his breath in her ear.
Her own breathing was conspicuous by its absence, while she waited for his reply.
He cleared his throat, and her breath escaped on a quiet stream of air.
“You’re starting your own practice? That’s pretty impressive.”
She smiled and allowed herself to breathe. “I wanted to be my own boss. Have you fully adjusted to being back at work again?”
“I’ve made a few alterations.” He didn’t elaborate, and she rolled her eyes. Getting him to talk about himself was like pulling teeth at times.
“What kind of alterations?”
“I’ve given Bryan and Hugh more responsibility and am taking on more of an advisory role in the company. I’ll stay on as board chairman…for now. But I’m grooming Bryan for that position.”
“But…why?”
“I want to focus on other things. My health scare has reorganized my priorities. I don’t want my life to be about just work anymore.”
“What will you do instead?”
“Make time for family, get out more, travel.” He cleared his throat again. Possibly uncomfortable with the subject matter. Or perhaps he was getting a cold. Which she doubted. He continued, “Enjoy life. Maybe even uh…marry and have kids or something. I just want more from life. I’ve spent nearly twenty of my thirty-five years building something I could be proud of. I did it for my mother and siblings. I wanted them to have anything and everything they desired from life. And that was it, my big plan. My raison d’être. I never thought beyond that. And even after I succeeded beyond my wildest imaginings…I couldn’t rest for fear of losing everything I’d built. I certainly didn’t think I could trust anyone else at the helm, so to speak.”
His words tumbled to an awkward halt and Charity waited, expecting him to continue. But when nothing else was forthcoming, she gave him a gentle prod. “And now you know you can trust them? Your friend and your brother, I mean?”
“Yes.”
First a deluge of information and now this…monosyllabic tumbleweed.
Perhaps expecting more from him after three months of silence was pushing too hard. She had contacted him because she was ready to explore the possibilities between them. Charity had had time to think, process, plan…but Miles was playing catch-up.
“I’ve decided to open my practice in Riversend.”
“What?”
Oh. A roar. Uncharacteristic.
She liked it.
“They don’t have a chiropractor in town, they have to drive into Knysna, or farther, for treatment.”
“But what about your family? I thought you wanted to live closer to home.”
She laughed softly, and sighed. “Turns out, Riversend is home. For three years I believed I could live on the outskirts of