The Best Next Thing ((Un)Professionally Yours 1)

A coping mechanism she hadn’t needed in weeks thanks to Miles. He centered her. Grounded her. Made her feel safe.

And all she had done in return was turn him into this wreck of a man standing before her.

And if that wasn’t definitive proof that she was doing the right thing in leaving, then she didn’t know what was. She wasn’t good for him. He had to constantly monitor his words, his reactions, in case it brought out the crazy in her. How was that fair?

“I’m sorry.” His words were quiet, and she sucked in a painful breath.

“You haven’t done a single thing to apologize for, Miles. We found each other at the wrong time. That’s all. And I so wish it could have been different for us.”

“Where’s your shadow?” Miles asked Vicki that evening after dinner. Their mother had joined them for supper but had excused herself soon afterwards to go dancing with George.

“He bummed a lift into town with Mum and George. Said he was going to hang out with his boss, Sam Brand. He’s such a slacker. You should fire him.”

Miles grinned and shook his head.

“You keep on flogging that dead horse, sis.”

Charity had joined them for dinner but had retreated to her rooms soon afterward. In fact, their mother had insisted that her “children” would clean the kitchen, and Charity should get some packing done.

She had appeared grateful for the excuse to leave.

Which left Miles and Vicki in the kitchen, companionably rinsing dishes and loading the dishwasher, with Stormy snoozing in her basket next to the banquette.

“Sooo…what’s the deal with you and Mrs. Cole?”

His sister’s question was so unexpected, Miles almost dropped the plate he was rinsing.

“Uh…what?”

Smooth. But in his defense, she had completely wrong-footed him.

“You and Mrs. Cole.”

“Charity,” he corrected automatically, his mind racing.

“Okay. Charity. There’s something going on between you. She’s smoking hot, by the way, so congratulations on your conquest.”

“She’s not a conquest!” he snapped, infuriated that she would think that. “Don’t speak of her like that.”

Her eyes widened, and she gingerly lowered the glass she had been rinsing to the drainer.

She whistled. “Well, I didn’t expect to hit that nerve quite so hard. Miles, what’s going on? You look so much healthier than before you left. I didn’t say it at the time, but it was terrifying to see you so weak and so obviously ill. But now…you look healthy sure. And you also look so bloody desolate.”

Vicki had always been entirely too perceptive. And he loved that about her. He was proud of her intelligence and wit. But right now, because of her incredible mental acuity, he truly wished he were dealing with Hugh, or his mother instead. They usually took everything he said at face value. Vicki never had. And she wouldn’t do so now.

“Well,” he began, fixating on the ruffled edge of the tea towel he was holding. Worrying at it, he found a frayed stitch and tugged. Anything to avoid his sister’s insightful gaze. “She’s leaving, isn’t she?”

“And that’s what has you so miserable?”

“I’m a little…” He cleared his throat, and when the piece of thread he’d been worrying broke, he found another one to tug on. “I’m a little in love with her.”

He dared a quick glance at Vicki from beneath his brow, she was gawking at him, her jaw unattractively agape. And he hastily went back to his loose thread.

“More than a little in love actually. I fucking adore her.”

“So why the hell are you letting her go?”

“It’s complicated, Swish.” He hadn’t used the nickname in so long it actually startled him when it emerged from his mouth. Swish, because Vicki had been such a talented netball player at high school. “She’s been through some shit. And she’s been hiding from it. She’s finally ready to carry on with her life. To be with her family and friends again. I can’t deprive her of that. To do so would be selfish.”