The Best Next Thing

“That’s better. This is your moment, sis! Enjoy it.”

“I am,” Charity said. “I just…”

She lifted a shoulder, not wanting to admit she hadn’t heard from Miles in a while. Her sister hadn’t been too impressed with the strange, chaste cyber relationship they had cultivated.

“And what are you and Miles discussing this evening? How many laps you swam in the community pool last night? Stormy’s latest encounter with the French poodle in the park?” The questions were steeped in sarcasm, and Charity narrowed her eyes at her sister.

“Stormy’s reaction to the poodle was cute,” she responded defensively, and Faith rolled her eyes.

“You guys have been tiptoeing around each other for weeks. Start sexting, for God’s sake.”

“Shut up! We’re doing fine.”

Only, they weren’t.

Faith threw her head back to glare at the ceiling for a second before levelling her gaze at Charity.

“Charity, at this rate, you’re going to text yourself right into the friend zone. Does he even know that you want him back? Or does he think that this weird, impersonal texting friendship is all you have to offer?”

The question made Charity pause. Was that what was happening? Did he think they were just friends? That this was all there was?

“Charity,” Faith began. Her tentative voice immediately put Charity on the alert. Her sister was only tentative when she was getting ready to lay a painful home truth on someone. “The longer you delay having a proper conversation about your feelings with him, the harder it will be. And before you know it, all you’ll have is a casual, amicable, but ultimately impersonal, friendship. The periods between your messages will grow longer and longer, until you’ll be lucky to remember exchanging Christmas or birthday wishes.”

“God, that’s depressing. When did you get so fricking gloomy?” Charity’s voice was teasing while everything inside her was withering up and dying. Faith was right. It was already happening. Five days without contact spoke for itself.

“It’s the sad reality. You’re setting yourself up to fail, sis.”

She blinked into her drink, trying to force the blurriness from her gaze. Not wanting anyone else to see the tears shimmering in her eyes. But Faith swore vehemently, and her arm slid around Charity’s shoulders again to give her another squeeze.

“I’m sorry. Ignore me,” she apologized quietly. “I just want you to be happy. But that was a douchey thing to say. You’ve been so brave these last few months, Charity. That’s why it frustrates me to watch you lose your nerve in this. When it matters so much to you.”

“I haven’t lost my nerve,” Charity denied. Even though she knew that some part of her was terrified of telling Miles the truth about how she felt. “I was just trying a different approach.”

Faith smiled but did not look entirely convinced. Thankfully she chose not to pursue the topic, instead complimenting the spectacular food Olivia ‘Libby’ Chapman had provided for the modest event.

Charity took her cue from her sister and determinedly pushed Miles and his lack of communication from her mind for the remainder of the evening. And while it wasn’t easy, she managed to go the next few hours without looking at her phone.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Faith asked three hours later, after the last of Charity’s guests had left.

“I’m fine. You must be exhausted. You guys go and pick Gracie up and head back to your hotel. I’ll see you in the morning.” Charity could barely stifle a yawn as she spoke with her sister. Faith, Stuart, and Gracie, were staying at a quaint hotel outside of town. Charity’s house was simply too small to accommodate everyone. Her parents were currently occupying her shoebox-sized spare bedroom. The older couple had left the party an hour ago, pleading exhaustion.

Lia’s parents were watching Gracie this evening.

Faith looked reluctant to leave Charity by herself but also very tempted to take her at her word.

“George will be back soon,” Charity placated her concerned sister. “He’s just taking Nina and Amos home.”

George had been such a godsend these last few weeks. Charity hadn’t got around to buying a car yet, and George had happily volunteered his services. He had been unwilling to accept payment from Charity, until she had suggested treating his chronic lower lumbar strain as reimbursement for his chauffeuring services. Both parties felt like they were getting the better end of the deal.

“You’re sure?” Faith asked again, and Charity rolled her eyes and directed her gaze over her sister’s shoulder to where Stuart was waiting at the door.

“Get her out of here, will you? Before she fusses me to death.”

The tall, prematurely balding, good looking man grinned. “Getting that woman to stop fussing is an exercise in futility.”

“Hey, watch it, mister!” Faith warned, but her words carried little sting. Testimony to how exhausted she was. As was the yawn that she quickly smothered.