The Solitude of Passion (34 page)

“Shut up.” I kick her from under the table.

A mist of tears blurs my vision, and I’m quick to blink them away. It’ll be just Mitch and me tonight. The two of us—
old times
.

“I don’t know,” I whisper. “I guess we’ll play it by ear. I can imagine what Max will be doing in the meantime, probably making himself insane with the wrong idea. And, don’t even think of calling him. The last thing he needs is your not-so-funny sense of humor.”

“Please. He’ll be fine. And you and Mitch better bring a fire extinguisher.” She rolls her eyes at the thought of me surrendering to Mitch again. “I bet he has the play-by-play all figured out.” She plucks her hand from under the lights and fans herself. “He’s been waiting a long time for this. He probably wants to nail it. And by it I mean you.” She winks. “You don’t think he booked a room do you?”

“You’re really not funny, you know that?” I let out a sigh. “ And, by the way, here’s another bit of information you can distort with your inappropriate sense of humor. I may have eluded to Max he was going to be the last man standing.”

She takes in a sharp breath. “
Max
.” I’m not sure Kat has a preference one way or the other who I end up with. Like me, it’s just too hard to go there.

“I’ve been thinking”—I shake my head—“and I can’t do it. This is too difficult for me.” Stella waves as they get ready to paint her toenails, and I smile back. “I’m going to hang onto both of them, let God choose for me.”

“Who?” Kat crosses her eyes a moment.

“You know, the big man upstairs—the one who landed me in this mess to begin with. He’s in charge, so I figure he can have this one. It’s too fucking hard for me.” He deliberately did this to our lives, and he’s welcome to get us out of it. But, in all truth, I think this one might prove to be too difficult even for him.

Kat doesn’t move. Her heavy gaze hangs over me for several minutes. “Lee, sometimes the big man upstairs wants you to make a decision.”

“Really? Where’d you get that? The Book of
Kat
?”

“It’s called free will.”

“Perfect. Then I’m free to let him dig us out of the hole he put us in.”

“Are you going to share that theory with Mitch over dinner?”

“Nope.”

“You going to make him believe you’re going to end up with him?”

“I
am
going to end up with Mitch.”

“And Max?”

“Yes. God yes, it’ll be Max and me in the end.” I want to end this conversation. I want to bang my hands up over my ears the way Stella does when she can’t take Eli’s shit anymore.

“There’s not enough therapy in the world for this crap, Lee.”

“That’s why people shouldn’t have to make tough choices. That’s why God is going to have to make it for me.”

“You need a miracle.”

“I’ll get one.”

But deep down, I don’t think I will.

In the cool of the evening, when the trees blow subtle into the blossoming navy sky, Mitch and I officially begin our date.

All of the beauty that’s locked in Mitch is unleashed at this moment. Those high cut cheekbones, that tanned skin, those piercing green eyes, you could write a poem about how alarmingly handsome he is.

Mitch helps me into the passenger’s side of the truck he’s been borrowing from Colt. It’s warm in the cab, with the hint of coconut from one of Colt’s convenience store treasures. Colt is forever trying to mask odors. I don’t know why his truck would be any different.

I glance back at the house while Mitch walks around to the driver’s side. Max secluded himself with the kids in the back without so much as a goodbye. Can’t say I blame him.

“So, where we going?” I ask as he swoops into his seat. Mitch suggested I dress casual, comfortable, and bring a sweater. All of his bank accounts have long since been closed, so I hope spending money isn’t high on the priority list tonight. Mitch never needed anything other than himself to impress me.

“As long as I’m with you, we’re already there.” He gives a sad smile as we back out of the driveway. He glances in the rearview mirror as the house dissolves in a vat of precipitation.

We turn off the main road and head up the coast. The sun has melted into a tangerine puddle just over the sharp, blue line of the horizon. Soft pink streaks bloom across the sky. It’s one of those magical sunsets where you have to acknowledge God for the artist he is and hope he’ll replicate the majesty in your own life.

I reach over and place my hand over his. He lets go of the wheel and locks fingers with me. It feels so natural with Mitch, everything does.

“I love you,” I whisper. It sounds like the saddest thing I’ve ever said, and I’m not sure why it comes out drowned in sorrow.

“I know.”

He pulls into the lot just past the abandoned pier and parks in front of the dunes—nothing but a white sandy desert as far the eye can see. To our left, jagged rocks, as tall as houses, track up the landscape before it drops back to the ocean. We used to come here, especially while we were dating. We logged countless hours beneath that rundown pier, listening to waves break over the shore like a war is on the horizon—and it is.

“I miss this.” A twinge of excitement rockets through me. “This is perfect.” I lean in and wrap my arms around him. His sweet cologne settles over me. It seeps into the past and magically retrieves who we were as if time had somehow become an interchangeable commodity, and we were gifted ten years back in the process. Mitch doesn’t let go. He locks over me and breathes a warm river into my neck.

By the time we emerge from the truck, the sun is highlighted just above the waterline in a smooth red line. Mitch plucks two wool blankets from the back. The ones we got from Mexico years ago, pink and blue plaid. They must have been at Janice’s. I haven’t seen these in forever.

“I’ll help,” I say, taking one and landing it over my shoulders.

He lifts a giant wicker basket from beneath the second blanket and holds it up. “Hope you’re hungry.”

“Did you cook for me?” Mitch cooked more than I did when he was home.

“Do you miss my cooking?”

“Insanely. The chocolate crepes have haunted me for years.”

“Then it’s your lucky day.”

“
No
.”

“
Yes
.” His teeth flash like a shooting star, and I hop up and down like a schoolgirl.

We meander our way through the sand over to the spot we’ve sat in so many times before. The sun is a thin lip of a line, that’s already sunk into yesterday. “Make a wish,” I say, nodding over to it.

“All of my wishes already came true, Lee.” Mitch leans in and gives a sweet peck on my cheek. The warmth of his skin rips a fire through my insides, and I’m not sure if I can handle where this might be headed.

Mitch spreads out one blanket for us to sit on and wraps us in the other. It feels soft, warm, like a memory that blinked back to life. He opens the basket and creates an amazing spread with an entire menagerie of culinary delights.

“Will a small army be joining us?” I tease.

“If it’d make you like me more, I could have the beach stormed in less than ten minutes.” He gives my ribs a playful tickle.

“
Hey
.” I knock his hands loose with my elbows. “And no thanks to the infantry. I kind of like it like this, just the two of us—Mitch and Lee.”

“Me, too.” He presses a kiss into my temple. “I like kicking it old school with you.” Mitch picks up a crepe and hand feeds it to me. It taste rich, soft, and sweet and there’s something erotic about the exchange. The strange flesh-like texture of the crepe lands my mind straight into the gutter for a second I imagine it’s his body I’m wrapping my lips around, but then again, Mitch’s body doesn’t generate chocolate emissions, but my mind still lingers in the pretense.

I bite down gently on his finger without meaning to before pushing him in and rewarding him for his culinary efforts. Mitch always made the perfect dessert.

“This is why I love you,” I say. “You take such good care of me. You never forget the little things.”

He doesn’t say anything. Mitch rides his deliberate gaze over me as if he were savoring the experience. He wraps his arm tight around my waist, slipping his hand up my sweater and warms my bare back. My skin drinks him in. My neck arches back, and I bury a moan deep in my chest, trying to memorize how it feels. God I miss his touch. It was as if that day in the hotel room were simply a dream and this were the very first touch of his skin to mine.

Mitch sniffs into my neck as if he might be ready to shed an entire river of tears.

“Are you okay?” I punctuate the question with a kiss just below his ear, and my lips blaze long after the touch.

“Only when I’m with you,” he whispers. “Any updates you’d like to share?”

I think about telling him what I told Kat. But the words dam up in my throat. They catch on the memories I’ve built with Max and have a hard time breaking free.

“Some nights”—Mitch bows his head—“it feels like coming back was just as big a curse as leaving.”

“Don’t ever say that.” My chest heaves from the horror of ever making Mitch feel that way. “It’s a miracle beyond belief that you made it home.”

“I doubt Max feels the same.”

“Max is in pain. If the roles were reversed…” I let my words dissipate in the breeze. I’m so sick of roles and reversals of fortune, the marriage vows that have slipped through my fingers like dust. I struggle to find words that might make this all somehow palatable. “I can’t break his heart, Mitch.” I bring my hand up over my mouth and take in a sharp breath. “I can’t do it. I want my old life back more than anything, but the thought of throwing Max away like an old pair of shoes—breaks me.”

Mitch dips his chin as his features harden ever so slightly. “What about me? Do I break you?”

“You blew my world apart.” It comes out far more accusatory than I mean for it. “You were the one who sliced me to ribbons.” I hold his gaze a moment too long. “Just help me figure out how to do this.”

“I will—we’ll get through this.” The whites of his eyes expand as if the last thing he expected tonight was an argument. “I realize, that when you married Max, you thought I was permanently out of the picture. Still wish you chose Colt, though,” he says that last part under his breath, and it sets off a wildfire of fury in me.

“
You
got us into this—not me, not Colt, and for damn sure not Max Shepherd.” Okay, so maybe it was Colt but it flew from my lips, and now here I am shouting into the breeze as if that were somehow going to make things easier.

“It’s not my fault.” He rocks forward. “I never asked to get detained. I never signed up for Shepherd to steal my company, my daughter—my
wife
.” Anger lifts his voice to uncomfortable octaves. It sails us into that vexing abyss, the one that leads to more scarring on our already fragile relationship.

It wasn’t his fault. He didn’t ask for anything that happened. For me to throw down the gauntlet and try to pin him with the blame is unfair on a whole new level.

“I’m sorry,” I say, securing myself around his waist. “I’m not mad at you. I
love
you. I wish you never left. I don’t know how to rectify this. I need a road map—something to point me in the right direction, that’s all.” I’m singlehandedly ruining all of the wonderful plans he had for the two of us tonight. Max swirls around us like a whirlwind, and I can’t ignore his whispers. Max didn’t ask for any of this and neither did Mitch. I’m not sure why I feel so damn responsible other than the fact I have the ability to put them out of their misery and pick one to move on with. If only there were two of me.

“Do you want me back?” He sounds childlike, boyish, and it completely endears me to him.

“
Yes
. Please, God yes. When I saw you at the airport, my heart splintered in a thousand pieces—I betrayed you—I knew it instantly. Can you ever forgive me?”

“
Betrayed
me? This isn’t 1862. I was dead, Lee. You moved on. You lost your mind, and Max took advantage of you.” He gives a wry smile as if he only half-meant it.

“Stop.” I swat him on the arm. “Max is great. You may never get over how you feel about him, but it’s the truth. Think about your relationship before it all blew up. You were closer than brothers. In fact, Max told me stories that you never did. He really loved you, Mitch. And you know what? He didn’t get it. He didn’t get why out of the blue you took off and never looked back—why he was suddenly black-balled by you and your friends. He’s only had nice things to say about you.”

Mitch lifts his gaze toward the necrotic horizon. The wind hisses around us as if it were protesting the idea that Mitch and Max could ever get along, that they ever did.

“You should have heard him yesterday,” he says under his breath. “Anyway, enough about Max. My date, remember?” He bumps his nose against mine and bites down a smile. “Let’s leave that relationship for the witch doctor.” He tightens his grip around my waist and pulls me closer.

“Deal.” I nuzzle into his neck. “But I do think if you healed your relationship with Max, things would be a lot easier for everybody—especially the kids. You’re both a permanent fixture in their lives.”