Chapter Twenty-Five
Mitch
The screams of the paparazzi talking over each other in hopes of getting his attention deafened him. Tightening his grip on his phone, Mitch stalked past the small crowd. Instead of going up the stairs to the lobby, he took the right turn onto the garden path to the poolside bar.
His phone went still for one blissful second.
With his knees threatening to buckle, he grabbed the side of a wooden bench underneath a large palm tree, sat and put the phone on top of his thigh.
He wasn’t prepared for something like that.
He’d never, ever, had to face any kind of press scrutiny before.
Not even when he was with Jackie, though that was before her “wild” phase, before she was on their radar.
The tabloids only started picking on her once she had left college and got involved with that French actor.
Mitch gritted his teeth, wishing he could erase the photos of the two of them from his memory.
Breath leaked from his lungs in a long stream. He’d left Jackie to face those piranhas all on her own. After all these years, the prospect of speaking with his father still rattled the deepest fear in his bones. He’d seen the caller ID and panicked.
His phone vibrated again, disturbing the peaceful silence cushioned by tropical garden plants.
Air whistled through his throat as he pressed the green button. “Hello, Father.”
“Mitch, for fuck’s sake. What is going on? What did you get yourself into again?” Tanner’s venomous tone echoed from the speaker.
Mitch swallowed thickly. “Nice to hear from you, too. I’m fine, if you’re at all interested in that.”
“You’ve failed to mention that the hotel you were going to was hers.” Hot acid dripped off the last word, boiling the blood in Mitch’s veins.
“If you mean Jackie, I didn’t know when I booked it. I didn’t know she would be here. For the record, though, I’m very glad she is.”
“So, that’s the man I raised you to be? Not even a week after your wedding, and you’re back to fucking that cowgirl—”
“Don’t you even dare talk about her that way.”
Tanner let out a humorless laugh. “Oh, of course. Already back under her spell. Nice one, son. Very good job. Did you forget how she ruined your life? Ten years and you’ve learned nothing.”
Mitch clamped his teeth together, breathing in and out of his nose.
He wasn’t going to take his father’s bait any more than he already had.
There was no point in that. Tanner would say whatever he wanted to say, throw whatever insults he was convinced would make him feel better, and then he’d hang up.
Tanner spat more words, but Mitch switched off. There was nothing in that stream of nonsense worthy of his attention. “… And with elections coming up, this really isn’t the right time for me to have your business plastered all over the media—”
“Are you done?” Mitch interrupted him.
Tanner huffed. “I haven’t even begun. You must see how insane it is.”
“What’s insane is that you’ve called me, after seeing every major news outlet run a story about how humiliated I was at the altar, and instead of checking how I’m feeling your only concern is for yourself.”
“She ruined your swimming career, son.”
Mitch closed his eyes, stretching the tired muscles in his neck.
This was the one thing Tanner was never able to let go.
He still hadn’t gotten over the fact that Mitch dropped swimming at the end of college, when he qualified for the national team.
Right before his motorcycle accident. “It was my decision. Stop looking for reasons to justify why you’ve never liked her. ”
“You could’ve been at the Olympics—”
“Dad, stop. It’s ancient history, no one cares.”
“I care! You could’ve made a name for yourself, for your family. Instead, what have you achieved in life? Delivering foals and bandaging injured hooves.”
Mitch rolled his eyes. Of course, this was the extent of Tanner’s understanding of what he did for a living. He shouldn’t even be surprised, but it still hurt. “Good job that my life’s got nothing to do with you.”
“You’re a Craigton and what you do reflects on this family.”
“You mean it reflects on you,” Mitch hissed.
Tanner blew out an irritated sigh. “Yes, Mitch. It reflects on me. Do you know how many phone calls and emails my office received after your sham wedding?”
Mitch snorted into the microphone. “I’m sorry I’m such a disappointment. I’ll consider the possibility of my bride having sex with a country music star, right before the ceremony, next time I plan a wedding.”
“Next time? You better not be thinking of proposing to that … that …” Apparently, Tanner couldn’t even bring himself to say Jackie’s name out loud.
Mitch pushed his fingernails into his thighs, his chest crushed under a barrage of questions about the future. He wasn’t thinking of getting married to Jackie, of course he wasn’t. But what were they doing?
All the conversations and plans they had made for the future when they were at their happiest snuck through the leaky barrier his brain had put up to protect his heart, infiltrating his mind.
Marriage, children, happiness, and most of all, being together.
Being partners. Sharing everything with each other.
Maybe that was why her leaving had hit him so hard.
It didn’t just betray his love; it betrayed his trust in the future.
He didn’t think he’d managed to hide his confused feelings very well these past few days.
Jackie must’ve known he would still do anything for her.
And damn him, he wanted her. The lofty young dreams they shared?
Those didn’t matter. If she told him she wanted to move to Greenland and run sled-dog excursions, keeping all the dogs at their home?
He’d permanently attach an IV bag with antihistamines, if such a thing existed, to his arm and get on with it.
If she decided she wanted to travel across the Sahara Desert on a quad bike? He’d go with her.
Tanner was right in one respect.
He was utterly under her spell, and he had no desire to release himself from it. An invisible string connected his heart to hers, which he’d never managed to cut.
“Are you even listening to me, son?” Tanner barked.
Mitch dragged his hand over his face. “You’ve said what you wanted to say, Father.
Now, listen to me, because I’m only going to say this once.
I didn’t invite the paparazzi. I have no idea how they found out about the wedding.
No, I didn’t know I’d meet Jackie again.
But you know what? This might be the best thing that’s ever happened to me.
“Maybe Eve did me a favor. And no, I don’t give a flying fuck about how my actions going forward will reflect on you.
I’m going to focus on living my life the way I want.
If you can respect that and want to be in it, fine.
If you don’t? Well, then that’s on you. I don’t need you. And I’m done being treated like crap.”
Stale silence pulsed through the almost four thousand miles separating them.
“Well, if this is how you repay me for bringing you up and providing for you—”
Mitch hung up on him. For the first time in his life, he didn’t wait for Tanner to do it.
He stretched his legs and felt the beginning of a tension headache niggling at his temples. Massaging the spot, he hoped to disperse the heavy emotions latching to his skin like leeches.
His phone vibrated again with a string of text messages coming through. A small smile spread over his lips as he read through Hunter’s words.
HUNTER: Are you OK? Caroline showed me all those online articles. I’m sorry, man. You didn’t need any of this shit.
HUNTER: Also, who the fuck leaked all this info to the press?! If I knew, I’d make them sorry … Dicks.
HUNTER: Jackie van Moetlier, huh? What are the chances. I know how you felt about her. I also know that despite what you’ve told me over the years, and probably yourself too, you’ve never gotten over her.
Mitch gulped down a steadying breath, the letters on the screen blurring. Hunter knew all about Jackie. Well, as much as Mitch had been able to share with him. Many of the memories had been too painful after what happened. But his friend had the general gist of the situation.
MITCH: Does the fact I haven’t really thought much about Eve make me a horrible person?
HUNTER: After what she did? You’re kidding me. You shouldn’t think about her ever again. She’s made her bed.
MITCH: What does it say about me, though, if the world thinks I’m out holding hands with another woman so soon after that disastrous wedding?
HUNTER: Fuck the world. Since when do you care what people think? Also, this isn’t any woman. You’ve told me she was the love of your life. Has that changed?
Mitch stared at that last message for a good while. Three words, a single question mark, burned the backs of his eyes, tugging on his heartstrings.
Had that changed? The answer should be that, of course, it had—he was meant to be married, for pity’s sake. He’d asked another woman for her hand and was ready to promise her forever.
But even if Eve didn’t cheat on him, if they got married, would he have ever forgotten Jackie?
Would he ever have freed himself from the hold she had on him?
He might’ve been able to push her to the deepest recesses of his memory.
He’d already locked the feelings he had for her in a steel box carved in his heart and thrown away the key.
Until the day fate laughed in his face, stuck up its middle finger to his plan of healing and ripped the lid of the box open, no key necessary.
HUNTER: I’ll take no reply as a confirmation.
MITCH: I could’ve been busy.
HUNTER: You’re on vacation. What could you possibly be busy with? Unless it’s a she and her name starts with J …
MITCH: Oh, fuck off.
HUNTER: You can call me, you know. If you need to talk.
MITCH: I’m fine, but thanks.
He scrunched his forehead, realizing it must’ve been the middle of the night for Hunter. With a sigh, he typed:
MITCH: I appreciate you, Hunt. Now, go to sleep. I hope you didn’t stay up to check in on me.
HUNTER: Of course, I did, and you know it. I moved across the ocean, but I didn’t get a personality transplant. No matter the distance, you’re still my best friend, yeah?
MITCH: Yeah. Thanks. Say hi to Caroline for me.
Hunter sent a thumbs-up emoji and Mitch switched off his phone again to avoid seeing any further texts from Tanner.
It was his father’s style: get hammered in his study and send angry texts, repeatedly, whenever they had an argument.
Mitch used to ignore him whenever that happened, but he’d still read the messages.
Not tonight.
Not anymore.
Laughter and the ripple of guitar strings tore through the air, reminding him that he was in Mexico, the night was young, and he should be having some fun. Screw his father and screw the paparazzi.
The sweet voice of the singer lulled his frayed senses into a relaxed half-consciousness.
The sound of acoustic guitar complemented the Spanish lyrics carrying over the smooth tiles framing the pool.
Some guests lounged on chairs, unbothered by the night sky stealing the sunrays.
Glasses clinked. The buzz of hushed conversations mixed with the raised voices.
The full moon reflected in the lustrous pool.
And Mitch was on his fifth tequila shot. Who said he didn’t know how to have fun?
He slammed the glass onto the wooden bar surface, wiping his lips with his forearm. “Another one!”
“Is that you, Mitch?” a male voice asked from his left.
Mitch’s head slowly turned, and he rested his chin on his hand, elbow propped on the bar. It was heavier than he’d have liked. His hazy gaze settled on a face he knew he’d seen somewhere before but couldn’t place. His brow furrowed, his mind scrambling to come up with the name to attach to the man.
“You don’t remember me,” the man stated.
Mitch’s lips turned down in an apologetic, awkward smile. “Sorry.”
The man laughed. “Don’t worry, son. You had a rough flight when we met. Who knew we’d be in the same hotel, eh? Small peninsula.”
Mitch blinked, the cogs in his brain turning at high speed. “Bart! Bart, my man!” He clapped him on the back, delight lightening his features as he recognized the guy he met on the plane. “How are you?”
Bart chuckled, shaking his head. “I’m very well, thanks. How are you? Still drowning pieces of your heart, I see.”
Mitch waved his hand impatiently, reaching for the full shot glass that had materialized in front of him. He lifted it up to his lips and drained it in one gulp. Setting it back on the bar, he considered Bart’s statement. “It’s all over the fucking internet.”
“I saw.”
Mitch groaned, covering his face with his hands. “Wonderful.”
“I didn’t read any of it, but I saw the headlines. I’m not into exploiting people’s misery.”
“You might be the only one.”
Bart pressed his lips in a thin line, his eyes boring into Mitch’s profile. “How many shots have you had, son?”
Mitch’s spine prickled with an unwelcome sensation as he registered the word “son” after a small delay.
Fragments of Tanner’s venomous words assaulted his memory, and he pushed his thumbs into his closed eyelids.
Bart said “son” with so much feeling, so much warmth, that it sounded effortless.
Like kindness and affection cost him nothing.
Tanner, on the other hand, the man who should’ve always had his back and loved him unconditionally, managed to twist “son” into a mockery—an insult wrapped in a life of disappointments and crushed hopes.
Whenever Tanner drawled “son”, Mitch’s heart cracked, like he knew that they both knew there was anything but love and concern to come in whatever he’d say next.
This was all so unimportant. He wasn’t meant to care about the internet or his father. That was the whole point of wandering into the poolside bar. Well, at least the idea was there; the execution left much to be desired.
“I don’t know,” he replied. “Who knows. It’s my freaking honeymoon and I don’t have a wife,” he gave a strangled laugh.
“It’s her loss. Don’t waste your liver on her.”
“How about my sanity?’
Bart chuckled. “We do give that to women too willingly, don’t we?”
Mitch swallowed thickly. “Yes.”
But Eve wasn’t the one consuming him now.
Bart pushed his bar stool closer to him and leaned in. “I’ll tell you what. Let’s have three more shots, toast to broken hearts, and then you’ll get some sleep.”
Mitch raised his brow. “Why would you do that? You don’t know me.”
“I know you enough. Besides, we abandoned men got to stick together.”
He blinked at Bart, taking in his genuine concern and the simple kindness emitting from him like an aura. Damn it, he didn’t remind him of his piece-of-shit father. He reminded him of Jackie’s dad, who had always been kind to him.
Mitch shot him a genuine smile. “You’re all right, you know that, Bart?” He looked to the bartender. “Can we get six more tequila shots? Line them up, thanks.”