My Skylar

“I’ve worked just like you, and then I’ve been to the hospital a few times to visit the kids. You know that.”

“Sky, I have no problem with you volunteering with sick children, but when the house starts going to shit, you really need to budget your time better.”

“I can wash it real quick.”

“There’s no time!”

“Alright. I’m sorry.”

“You should be.”

Just leave. Please. So, I can breathe.

It wasn’t that I hated living with Kevin. I just preferred it sometimes when he was away. He was difficult to live with, but I respected him. He made me feel safe and had saved me during a time when I wasn’t sure I was going to survive.

Depression had taken over my life when I first moved to Maryland. It was just one month after Mitch discovered Charisma was pregnant. There were still a lot of unknowns, such as whether she could prove he was the father. I couldn’t bear to be anywhere near him, so I took off without a plan, initially moving in with a high school friend who went to college out there.

When I asked Davey about the baby shortly after it was born, he told me that a DNA test confirmed Mitch’s paternity. That was all I needed to hear. At that point, I knew I wasn’t coming home, so I enrolled in design school and got my own place.

I had just started my freshman year at Maryland School of Design and lived in an off-campus apartment when I met Kevin. He was my downstairs neighbor, five years older and established in his career. Spending time with him gave me something to do besides thinking about what I left behind. It started as a casual friendship. Kevin was a foodie and introduced me to eclectic cuisines, like Ethiopian and Moroccan. Over time, our relationship turned into something more. When I finally opened up to him about Mitch, he vowed to help me forget. Sex with Kevin was good—not as great as what I imagined with Mitch—but certainly better than my first time with Chad. In recent years, though, the spark that existed in the early days had significantly waned. It was sad, but lately, touching myself was preferable to intercourse with Kevin.

He was packing his small suitcase, placing travel-sized toiletries into plastic bags. His flight was at 7:00 in the evening. “I left you a list of stuff I need you to do for me this week on a sticky note. It’s hanging on the fridge.”

“Okay.”

He liked to think I was his secretary. He made more money than I did in my job as an interior designer, so I guess he felt I had to earn my place here. Kevin did provide a good life for me. I didn’t want for anything and never had to worry about paying the bills. Even though I resented him sometimes, I felt the good outweighed the bad. No man is perfect, right?

“And Sky, don’t forget we have dinner with one of my supervisors, Ray Michaelson and his wife on Friday night. Buy yourself something nice to wear, not like that red dress you wore last time. That was too low cut in the front.”

Note to self: buy dress with low back to the ass to compensate.

“Got it.”

My anxiety lessened with each second that passed as his suitcase rolled toward the door. “I’ll call you when I get in tonight.” He gave me a peck on the lips.

“Have a safe flight.”

As always, I stood at the window until his car was completely out of sight before I let out a deep breath and plopped on the couch with my kindle.

After an hour or so, I meandered into the kitchen and poured some Lucky Charms into a bowl. Dinner. Done. Leaning against the counter eating my cereal, I noticed the to-do list plastered on the fridge. Pick up dry cleaning. Organize junk drawer. I stuck my middle finger up at the sticky note and took a marker to it.

I remembered that Dancing with the Stars was on and took advantage of the fact that I’d have the television to myself. Kevin wouldn’t be caught dead watching one of my shows. When he was home, I’d usually read in the bedroom while he watched the History Channel or BBC America. Halfway into some football player’s Paso Doble, I got bored, put on my reading glasses and opted to start my new book.

During a pivotal sex scene, my mind drifted, and suddenly, the image in my head of the main male character transformed into Mitch. He was dressed exactly as I remembered him from Target: paint-stained jeans, unruly hair and big, rough, hands with tattooed letters on his fingers. Mitch had gotten even more painstakingly handsome with age and had clearly been working out. His new rough exterior was definitely working for me. It hurt just as much as it brought me pleasure to have these thoughts. Still, I just couldn’t stop. With my eyes closed, I imagined Mitch doing the things to the heroine that the author described—the heroine who happened to be my Doppelganger. I clutched my pink blanket in frustration and continued to read until I fell asleep.

***

A loud bang woke me up. It sounded like gunfire or an explosion, and I immediately hopped up from the couch. With a palpitating heart, I ran out the front door.

Smoke was billowing from a car across the street. A man in a dark hood stood in front of it with his back facing me as I approached cautiously.

“Is everything okay out here?”

He didn’t say anything. My nerves kicked in because it dawned on me that I could have just interrupted an attempted break-in. He wasn’t moving, and just as I was about to run back inside and call the police, he turned around.

Crystal blue eyes lit up from under the darkness of the hood. “Skylar…it’s me.”

The shock nearly knocked the wind out of me, and I shuffled backwards. My breath was visible in the frigid night air as I tried to catch it. “Mitch?”

We silently stared at each other until headlights from an approaching car forced me to move out of the way and closer to him. His familiar smell invaded my senses, triggering an acute onset of unwanted desire. My body was still frozen as I stood there confused. My teeth chattered.

He broke the silence. “I’m sorry. It’s cold. Go back inside.”

There was that look again, the same pleading look he gave me at Target, like his eyes were screaming a million things at me while he said nothing. Something deep within me was screaming back at him even louder despite my own silence.

“What are you doing here?” I finally managed to ask.

Several seconds later, his voice was hoarse when he said, “I don’t know.” He looked down at the pavement and repeated in a whisper, “I don’t f**king know what I’m doing here.”

“You happened to be outside of my house late at night looking like the Grim Reaper setting off fireworks or some shit, and that’s all you have to say?”

He looked up at the sky and laughed, shaking his head. “You always manage to make me laugh at myself even in the worst situations. How do you do that?”

My tone softened. “Seriously, what’s going on?”

“There’s no good answer for that. So, I’d better go. I’ll call a tow truck for my car.”

He started to walk away.

It felt like I was losing control of my bladder. Even though I was afraid to talk to him for fear of having to face things that would shatter me, I just couldn’t let him walk away. “Wait. Don’t go.”

He stopped in his tracks and turned around, looking surprised as he walked back toward me. “I’m here.” He said it with a level of raw emotion that told me he meant it in more ways than one.

I swallowed, and my heart beat faster with every step he took.

What was I doing?

“Do you want to come in?”

CHAPTER 21

MITCH

Hell yes, I wanna come in.

I nodded and followed her across the street and up the few steps to her door.

“Thank you for inviting me in,” I said, wiping my feet on the autumn leaves that were etched on her welcome mat.

Skylar’s home was warm and welcoming. Walking in there had felt like a small reprieve from hell for a quick glimpse into heaven. There was simply no place else in the world I’d rather have been.

Still in shock that she even asked me inside, I followed her into the bright white and marble kitchen. She immediately began pouring water into a stainless steel kettle. “I’ll make some tea. You look like you could use it.”

Spiked with Jack Daniels would be ideal, but I’ll take it.

“Thanks,” I said as I lowered by hood.

My eyes wandered over to the refrigerator where a list written on a sticky note had the words “Yeah…fuck you” written over it in red Sharpie. What was that all about?

She interrupted my thoughts. “How long were you out there anyway?”

“About an hour…or more.”

She didn’t need to pry any further about what I was doing out there because at this point, it was painfully obvious.

She looked back at me as she reached into her cupboard for cups. “Notice anything interesting?”

“Huh?”

“While you were out there?”

I chuckled. “You still bite your lower lip when you’re concentrating on something.”

“And?”

“You smile to yourself for a long time after you laugh at the television.”

“Anything else?”

“Your roof could use an update.”

“Wow…call 1-800-Stalker, get free home improvement advice.” When she cracked a small smile, I returned it and started to calm down.

The teapot whistled, and she went to the stove to pour the steaming water into two ceramic cups. She added sugar and milk without asking because she knew how I liked it. She placed the cup on a saucer and as she handed it to me, it shook from her trembling hand. Even though she had been joking around, I was clearly making her nervous. My chest filled with hope because that only confirmed that I still had an effect on her.

My hand intentionally lingered on hers for a few seconds as she handed me the tea. “Thank you.” Then, the reflection of something glimmering caught my eyes, which were now glued to the large diamond on her left ring finger. My entire body tensed, and my heart felt like it was going to leap out of my chest.

Fuck. Me. She was engaged.

She noticed me looking down at it, and then our eyes met.

After a long moment of silence, she broke the ice. “So, what have you been up to the past five years, Mitch? Whoa…déjà vu. Haven’t I asked you that before?”

“Yes. Except this time you’re the one that disappeared.”

Her smile faded, and it was clear I had touched a nerve. She looked down. “I did, didn’t I? I’m sorry. I just couldn’t—”

“Please…don’t.” My tone was harsher than intended. I immediately lowered my voice. “You don’t owe me an apology. I understand exactly why you left. I’m just sorry I put you in a position where you felt you had to run away from home. Don’t ever blame yourself for my mistakes. Ever. What happened was all my fault, Skylar.”

She closed her eyes and let out a long, seemingly endless breath.

I just wanted to f**king hold her.

“My being here is upsetting you. Do you want me to leave?”

“No. I knew I’d have to face you sooner or later. I just wasn’t prepared for it to be tonight.”

“I know. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. I didn’t mean to—”

“Get caught?”

I couldn’t help but smile. “Yeah.”

“You’re not a very good stalker. You should keep your day job.”

“Well, what kind of victim are you, inviting me in for Sleepytime tea?”

Every time our eyes met, you could practically feel the static in the air. It pleased me to no end that despite all that had happened, our connection was still as strong as ever.

The heat in her house was blasting, and I was burning up. “Do you mind if I take off my jacket?”

“Sure.”

Her eyes wandered down to my chest as soon as I removed it. At least my workout addiction was paying off. I did it to burn off steam, but if Skylar liked what she saw, then that was a huge bonus.

She swallowed. “You look good.”

“So do you…amazing, actually.” Did she ever. She had filled out in all the right places. She was still petite, just a little curvier than I remembered. She wasn’t wearing a bra under her white cotton shirt, probably because she wasn’t expecting guests. So, I had to force my eyes upward. Now was not the time to get caught staring at her tits. She already outed me as a “stalker,” a not so distant cousin to “perv.” My jaw tightened when it hit me that her beautiful body belonged to another man now. Him. That was impossible to accept. Adrenaline pumped through me. I needed to get her back. I didn’t care if it took me forever.

The first step was getting the hard part out of the way.

I put my tea on the counter and looked deeply into her eyes. “I know you don’t want to hear it, but please let me tell you everything.”

She looked away and then quickly nodded her head. “Okay.” She wrapped her arms around herself. Whatever light mood existed minutes ago was gone. “It’s like I’ve been in a coma for five years, and I’m just waking up, Mitch. It still feels like it was just yesterday.”

It took everything in me not to reach for her. I was dying to take her in my arms, to tell her how sorry I was for all of the pain my actions had caused, but I knew I needed to keep my distance.

“I’ll only tell you what you want to know. Davey told me about your little agreement, that you didn’t want him to tell you anything unless you asked. So, I want you to direct this conversation. Ask me anything, okay? Don’t be afraid.”

“Let’s go in the living room.”

I followed her into the room that had been the backdrop of my window into her world these past couple of months. It felt strange to be sitting on the same cream-colored sofa I used to stare at from my car. It was like walking into my favorite television show.