“You never intended to give this a real chance, did you?”
“You’re the one who said you’re not at a point in your life where you’re interested in long-term leases,” she reminded him.
“That’s hardly fair. I was talking about real estate, not us.”
She shook her head sadly. “Don’t you see, Mitch? It’s all tied up together. I am the type who wants a long-term lease once I find exactly what I’m looking for. I don’t mind an occasional short-term stay in a decent place while I’m searching for a permanent home, but I always know going in that it’s only temporary.”
He looked baffled by her tangled analogy, and she supposed she couldn’t blame him for that. Still, she thought maybe he’d gotten the message. When it came to giving her heart, it was all or nothing with her. Until she found someone who felt exactly the same way—if that ever happened—she was keeping that vulnerable organ locked safely away. Even if it hadn’t been for all the other obstacles between them, Mitch had made it clear enough during the past couple of weeks that he wasn’t looking for long-term commitments.
“I love my job, and I don’t want to ruin my relationship with your sisters and your mother,” she repeated quietly. “I’m very fond of them. When you’re off exploring Peru or looking for exciting new jobs in places other than where you’ve lived all your life, I’ll still be here with them. I don’t want them feeling as though they have to take sides between us or treat me any differently than they have before. I’m Meagan and Seth’s housekeeper, an occasional nanny for Alice—and, for now anyway, a friend of the family. I’m content for things to stay that way.”
“So it’s a no on the party.”
Her heart twisted in response to his expression because they both knew she was turning down more than a simple invitation.
She agreed somewhat sadly. “It’s a no.”
He looked as though there was more he wanted to say, but he merely stood there for a moment in silence before he said, “Fine.”
“I’ll make an excuse to your mother. Other plans.”
He nodded. “Whatever you want to tell her. I won’t cause you any problems. I’d better go.” He reached for the doorknob again. “I’ll, uh, call you.”
Knotting the robe tie more tightly around her bloodless fingers, she managed a faint smile. “Right.”
He took one step outside her apartment, then paused once again. “Jacqui?” he said without looking back. “For the record—your job has never been an issue with me. I think you’re damned good at it.”
Despite her pain, it was still nice to
hear him say that. “Thank you, Mitch.”
“Good night.” He closed the door behind him.
Moving forward to turn the locks, she sighed heavily. He had said “good night,” but she thought she heard an echo of “goodbye” in her now-silent apartment.
She walked slowly over to the couch, where she sank onto one end and automatically picked up her knitting. She wouldn’t be sleeping for a while yet, so she might as well be productive while she sat there brooding.
So, it hadn’t lasted very long at all. Just over a week. Even with her brief history of ill-fated relationships, that was a record.
It was probably best this way. Short enough so that every moment had been close to perfection, at least until the very end. They hadn’t had to deal with fights or makeups or conflicts of time or priorities that inevitably caused friction in long-term relationships. Because it had been so brief, and so private, she wouldn’t have to deal with other people’s sympathy or advice or disapproval. And because her routines had been disrupted for only a few days, it wouldn’t take her long to fall back into them. She had been satisfied with her life before Mitch literally stumbled into it; she would be again, she promised herself.
It hadn’t escaped her notice that he hadn’t taken issue with her reminder that he wasn’t looking for a long-term commitment. She hadn’t expected a declaration of undying love or a flowery proposal of marriage—not after only a week of being together, certainly—but he could have argued that he was open to the possibilities. That he, too, was only waiting to be sure he’d found the right one before he made any binding promises.
Only he wasn’t looking for commitment. Not now. Not when he was still nagged by curiosity about what lay beyond the borders of his first thirty-one years. He’d known commitment all his life—to his family, his education and career training, his job. She didn’t really blame him for not wanting to tie himself to another anchor.
It was a good thing she had protected herself, she thought, glaring fiercely down at her knitting needles. Had she not, she would be in a great deal of pain right now. She would probably be feeling as if her tidy, carefully organized world had just crashed around her ears.
It was a very good thing she wasn’t feeling that way now, she thought with a hard, aching swallow.
A worried couple awaited him when Mitch walked into a small, private hospital consultation room late Friday afternoon. They held hands as they watched him enter, followed closely by a surgical resident, who closed the door behind them. Mitch gave the parents a reassuring smile, offering his hand to each before inviting them to have a seat at the small, rectangular table in the cubicle-size room.
Sitting across from them, the resident seated quietly and observantly nearby, Mitch asked, “You were told that Jeffrey did very well during his surgery?”
“Yes, the volunteer and the nurse kept us updated,” Laura Dickerson assured him, her voice quivering just a little with nerves. “There were none of the possible complications you warned us about?”
“No, everything went just fine.”
No matter how many times he had done it, it always felt good to see the relief in worried parents’ eyes when he consulted with them after successful operations. Just as it always grieved him to have to report otherwise. Fortunately, in his specialty he didn’t have to relay heartbreaking news often. And in this particular case, the report was all good.