The Best Next Thing

No, he shouldn’t have to tell her that…but it was nice to hear it nonetheless.

She sucked in a deep, messy breath and laughed self-consciously at the wet sound. She swiped at her damp cheeks with the back of her wrist, and when she opened her eyes, Miles had his eyes on Stormy, clearly giving Charity the privacy she needed to gather her composure.

She looked at the table and saw a monogrammed blue handkerchief neatly placed beside her plate. She smiled and traced the letters with a shaky index finger.

MHH

It was such a quaint custom, to carry a monogrammed handkerchief, but one that suited Miles to a T. She lifted the expensive linen square and dabbed at her cheeks, before—cringing at the necessity of the action—blowing her nose heartily.

“Thank you,” she said, and he lifted his gaze back to hers. She grimaced at the sodden handkerchief and sighed. “I hope you weren’t expecting this back right away.”

He started to say something but Estie came shuffling around the corner. She fussed happily, praising them for mostly eating all of their food before clearing away their plates and promising to return with their coffee and cake.

“On second thought, Estie, let’s change the coffee to a nice strong pot of tea,” he instructed the woman. The demand made Charity smile. She knew why he had ordered it.

She had noticed that about Miles Hollingsworth before. Tea was his remedy for everything. From a hangover to a broken heart. She had often seen him administer it to his distraught siblings. His demeanor brisk and efficient, but his eyes concerned.

She had always considered it a sweet quirk in an otherwise aloof character.

Estie nodded, and they watched her depart.

“I don’t think she has just the one toy boy, she probably has a guy in every village from here to Cape Town,” Charity said on a wobbly voice, keen to continue their game.

Miles smiled, his eyes and his expression inscrutable again. He looked more like the Miles Hollingsworth she had known these last three years. A little grim and a lot unapproachable, and Charity regretted the loss of the man who had been so kind moments ago.

“I think she met the man of her dreams when she was in high school,” Miles said after a long silence. “She married him just after university, and they have lived a long and wonderful life together. They have four children, twelve grandchildren, and three great grandchildren. And every evening they sit in their rocking chairs, hold hands, and watch the sun set. They talk about their day, the people they saw, and the things they did.”

“That’s very…” Charity struggled to find the right word and finally settled on, “romantic.”

“I can be romantic,” he said, but the contrast between the words and his grim voice and expression was frankly ludicrous.

“Can you?”

He sighed, the sound was heavy and despondent.

“Are you okay?” he asked, still in that fierce voice.

“Yes. Thank you.”

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have pried. Into your marriage, I mean.”

“You didn’t. It was just a question. And most people would answer it without all the drama.”

“You’re not most people.”

“No. I’m a total drama queen. As you just discovered.”

“I don’t suppose you want to tell me about it. About him.”

His face was stark, all angles and planes in the lengthening late afternoon shadows, and it gave him a vaguely sinister look. She smiled bittersweetly and, before she could overthink it, she reached across the table and stroked the bristled, sharp edge of his jaw.

“I feel…we’re…” She shook her head, trying to find a way to verbalize how she was feeling without adding to the confusion of what was happening, or not happening, between them. “I don’t know what’s going on here. With us. I work for you. And the thought of confiding something so highly personal to you, when I haven’t even told my family or friends about it, feels—I don’t know. I don’t know how it feels.”

“Why did you hate him?”

She hesitated, not sure if she should answer. Not after what she had just said. But in the end, the need to confide in someone after so long overwhelmed all else. “He was a monster.”

“And why didn’t you confide in your family and friends?”

“Because everybody loved that monster. They thought he was a saint. Especially for marrying someone like me. I was high maintenance, you see? Wild and carefree. While Blaine was patient and kind. Exactly the man my family thought I needed. The kind of man I thought I needed.”

He was distracted from his questions when Estie returned with a sunny smile on her face.

She deposited their desserts and tea on the table and offered Stormy a dog biscuit and an ear scratch.

Charity determinedly changed the subject to more neutral topics after that, delving into the limited and outdated town gossip she knew.

He allowed the subject change with nothing but a raised brow. He didn’t seem at all interested in the subject matter but nonetheless listened attentively and kept her going with the occasional encouraging grunt, while he dove into his cake.