Chapter Twenty-Nine
Mitch
Mitch couldn’t remember the last time he’d been hungover.
Well, at least prior to his sham wedding.
Overindulgence following that didn’t count.
But this, the splitting headache and bone-dry mouth?
It was almost like a throwback to parties with Colt and Kit during his summers working at the Brooke’s Plains.
He groaned, cracking one eye open.
Sunlight flooded his room. What time was it? He didn’t think he’d gotten much sleep; he certainly didn’t feel like it. Blindly reaching for his phone, his hand stopped when it hit a glass. He pushed himself to a sitting position, glancing at the nightstand.
Full glass of water, a pack of aspirin and a pink Post-it covered with familiar handwriting:
Hope your head isn’t too bad, cowboy.
Swallowing down a smile, he traced the looped inked letters with his finger.
So, he hadn’t imagined Jackie helping him into bed. He tried to remember what they’d talked about, but his mind wasn’t cooperating, still dulled by last night’s tequila. His lips tingled with the memory of a kiss, and he hoped that wasn’t part of his eager imagination.
His phone buzzed with a new text.
HUNTER: Just warning you that I’m going to call you right now because I’m worried. And Caroline won’t leave me alone until I’ve actually heard you and checked you are OK.
He let out a low chuckle and shook his head.
MITCH: Since when does she care so much about me?
HUNTER: It’s Caroline. She always cares. Calling you now.
The screen lit up with an incoming call and Mitch picked up right away. “Hello, wannabe Scotsman.”
Hunter’s laugh came through the speaker. “You’re trying to be funny, which means you’re hungover. What was it, whisky?”
“Tequila. And I’m always funny, what are you on about.”
“No, you think you’re funny. There’s a big difference. Anyway, how are you?”
Mitch shuffled, propping the pillow up behind his back. He put Hunter on speaker and popped two aspirins, gulping down some water.
“That good, eh?” Hunter teased.
“Shut up. I’m fine. My head’s killing me. But I’ll be okay. Jackie got me to drink some water before I went to sleep, and I think that must’ve helped, at least a bit.”
“Jackie, you say.”
Mitch rubbed his forehead, his sleepy gaze drifting to the balcony door.
It was another gorgeous day. The sun was high in the blue sky, speckled with wisps of white fluffy clouds. Calm waves rippled through the sea, rhythmically hitting the shore. Tiny people waded in the water, their heads popping up and down.
A dip in the sea seemed like the best idea.
“How pathetic would it be to tell her I’ve never stopped thinking about her?” he asked Hunter, humor draining from his voice.
Hunter was silent for a beat. “You mean telling her you’ve never stopped loving her?”
His breath rushed out on a sigh. “I worry I’ve already told her something to that effect last night. I don’t remember much but … You know how I get when I drink a bit too much.”
Hunter cackled. “Oh yeah, I’m aware.”
“So, I’m not sure what I said. But I think I made it clear I want her.”
“Do you want her as in want to sleep with her to scratch the ten-year itch? Or do you want her as in screw the last ten years, you want to spend the rest of your life with her?”
Mitch’s blood boiled. “Fuck’s sake Hunt, you know—”
“Hey, I know! I know you. She does too—or rather, did. I’m just saying, these will be two conflicting questions in her head when you say your piece.”
“It could never be the first, not with Jackie … She’s …
” Mitch paused, thick saliva clogging his throat.
He cleared it, biting on his bottom lip.
“She’s the love of my life. I thought I could forget about her, get on with my life.
I was prepared to marry Eve, start a family with her and that’d be it. ”
“But you wouldn’t have forgotten Jackie,” Hunter said quietly.
His stomach shrank. “When you put it like that … I sound like a dick.”
Maybe Eve was right. “This is what I mean. Already the past tense.” He sank back on the bed, both hands pressed over his eyes. “Fuck, I’m Rose. And she’s Jack.”
Hunter snorted. “Titanic … Seriously, Mitch?”
“No, think about it. Eve would’ve been that poor bloke Rose married and had kids with. But when she died, she spent her eternal life with Jack. It’s like her husband didn’t count at all.”
“You know it’s fiction, right?”
Mitch continued, unfazed by his mockery: “Eve was right when she told me I never fully opened my heart to her. I didn’t see it at first, too angry at what she did, but she was right. She deserved better. Like that poor bloke did. Everyone knows Jack’s name, but no one remembers Rose’s husband.”
“You’re making zero sense. And if you’re so bent on the Titanic comparison, who’s Cal?”
Mitch frowned. “There’s no Cal. But that doesn’t matter. I need to tell Jackie how I feel.”
Hunter let out a full, long laugh, the familiar sound reminding Mitch how much he missed his best friend. He hadn’t laughed like that much before he’d met Caroline. But he took his chance on love, and that was exactly what Mitch would do.
“I don’t want to wait until we die to be with her,” he said, the truth hitting him square in the chest.
“You might want to consider how it’s going to come across, though.
In her mind, you were meant to be married.
She doesn’t know you’ve never stopped loving her.
She might think you’re only saying so in an act of desperation.
Because your not-wedding was a disaster.
Because you ran into each other in a weird twist of fate. That’s what I’d think,” Hunter said.
“You know that isn’t true,” Mitch protested.
“Hey, I do. I’ve been friends with you for years. I spent hours listening to your drunk love tales about her. Granted, you stopped all that once you met Eve.”
Mitch closed his eyes, massaging his eyelids. His left eye had started twitching on and off in the past week, probably due to all the stress and alcohol. “I really wanted to give us a chance. I tried.”
“I know you did.”
“Jackie told me she can’t have children,” Mitch said, absentmindedly. “We used to talk about having kids when we were together.”
“How do you feel about it?”
“You know I want kids. I always did, I think. But there are other ways to have a family. Not a conversation for right now but—”
“Mitch. It’s very much a conversation for right now. You aren’t eighteen anymore. It’s not like meeting someone on a dating app and seeing how things go or something casual. You could never do casual with Jackie.”
He sighed. “True.”
“So, you’ll have to talk about this.”
They shared a moment of transatlantic silence during which the cogs in Mitch’s brain were working overtime.
All the possibilities spinning in a mirage of further heartbreak.
What if Jackie told him she didn’t feel the same?
What if she told him she never wanted to see him again?
Deep down, he didn’t think she would. Whatever bound them together ran much deeper than the epic chemistry they joked about in the cenote.
And at the completely opposite end of this fear, what if he risked it and became the happiest man in the world? What if it all worked out? Even a chance at that was worth fighting for.
What about the fact she broke your heart? What about the fact she left, leaving behind only that shitty short note?
There was that. But somehow, he knew it hurt her just as much, if not more. Was he still angry over it? Truthfully, he was never angry. Heartbroken, yes. But angry at her? Not really.
Hunter coughed. “You still there, Mitch?”
“Yeah.” He exhaled, his nerves sinking to the pit of his stomach. “I’m going to tell her. Screw it.”
“Awesome. You go do that. Let me know how it goes. Not necessarily today, you might be busy,” Hunter teased, innuendo screaming down Mitch’s phone.
He snorted. “Sure. Tell Caroline I’ll be fine and not to worry.”
“You can tell her that yourself. I’ll call you when she’s home next time. Bye, Craigton. Go get your woman.”
Much later that day, after his head had stopped pounding and he’d spent half an hour in the shower, scrubbing the last dregs of tequila fumes from his body, Mitch stood outside Jackie’s room, wearing his heart on his sleeve and clutching a small bouquet of pink roses from the hotel florist.
He took a deep breath and knocked, twice.
The door opened and Jackie peeked through a small gap, which widened once she recognized him. “What are you doing here?” Her gaze dipped to the roses. “And what are these for?”
“For last night. Thank you for making sure I was safe and didn’t do anything stupid.”
Her brow furrowed. “Were you thinking about doing something stupid?”
Her eyes flicked to his and the concern written all over her face prickled his heart with shame, squashing his smile under its boot. He shouldn’t have made light of something so serious, not after she’d seen his scar and heard about his accident.
“No. Of course not.” He cleared his throat, awkwardly pushing the bouquet into her hands. “Still, thank you for not leaving me on my own.”
Jackie hugged the roses to her chest, dipping her head and sniffing them. “Pink roses,” she whispered, her gaze slowly climbing back up to lock on his. “What is this, Mitch?”
She didn’t have to elaborate. He used to bring her pink roses every other Friday.
It was their thing, their tradition. He still remembered the fresh bouquet sitting in the vase in her room when she left.
No one had touched them for weeks. Some petals dropped; others rotted.
Eventually, the dying roses became a reminder that she was gone.
Mitch couldn’t bear the sight of pink roses for years after.
“Come take a dip in the sea with me,” he said, instead of answering her question, a hopeful smile curling his lips.
Jackie looked at the roses again, then back at him. “If I do, what will it mean?”
He stared right into her eyes, and without blinking, said: “It can mean either everything or completely nothing. It’ll be up to you.”
His breath stilled, hers picked up, the air between them vibrating. The flickering emotions behind her eyes stirred the newly awakened chunk of his heart, the one that had been unlocked and released from its chains when she touched his forearm in the lobby.
He wanted—needed—her to say yes.
“Let me get changed and I’ll be out in a minute. Wait here.” She closed the door.
Mitch leaned over the wall, crossing his feet at his ankles, his hands pushed in the pockets of his shorts. His heart rammed against his ribcage like it was preparing to break away, the hammer blows of his pulse urging it ahead.
He didn’t know if minutes or hours had passed by the time Jackie came out of her room. All he knew was that it had been long enough for him to entirely lose confidence in his plan ten times over.
But then she was standing beside him, wearing a lilac button-down minidress with thin straps, her shoulder-length waves kissing her bare shoulders. She smiled at him and any doubts he had dissolved into nothingness.
“Ready to go?” She held out two folded bath towels in front of her.
Mitch took them from her and threw them over his shoulder. “Lead the way.”