Chapter Nineteen #3
But then she’d shown up at the hospital prepared to stay.
Just seeing her face had made the knots in his stomach unfurl.
When he’d come through the front door, the aromas wafting about him so delectable his mouth watered, the tension in his shoulders loosened as well.
Seeing how comfortable she was puttering about in the kitchen yanked a sense of longing he'd stuffed deep down inside him back up to the surface.
He wanted her, like this, in his home; in his life. Without meaning to, Charity had endeared herself to the point he was considering things he’d never allowed himself to think about before.
The future. One without his devil may care, a few hours of pleasure then leave lifestyle.
Instead, a life with one woman. A future than included a lifetime partner; one that he could share the burdens and issues of daily life with; share his days with.
A future that might include a child. Or two.
Kolby had never allowed himself to consider any of those options before, knowing the chance his mother’s illness might be passed on to him.
He would never – never – willingly put someone else in the position he’d been in since he was six years old.
Charity though, made him think that maybe, just maybe, a future not spent alone, was something he could have.
Her expression softened as she sliced the bread. “Yeah, I know. Go,” she pointed the knife toward the bathroom, “wash up and we can eat. Everything’s ready.”
With a nod, he went and splashed water on his face and washed in the downstairs bathroom.
An open beer in a glass waited for him next to a plate piled high with mouthwatering food.
“This looks great.” He sat. “I haven’t had anything but drive-thru food in days.”
“I know.” Her lips pursed as her left eyebrow curled upward to her hairline. “I emptied the garbage and saw all the bags. It’s a wonder your cholesterol isn’t revolting right about now. When was the last time you ate an actual grown from the ground vegetable?”
“No idea.”
That eye roll, along with the accent she only showed around him, was gonna be his death.
Or, maybe, his life.
“Tell me what’s been going on,” she said as they ate.
It was so easy to talk to her, to discuss something he’d kept hidden from everyone he’d ever let into his life.
Colleen knew about his mother, but just bare bones, and only because she was naturally nosy.
Plus, she was important to him and he figured she’d need to know in case anything happened to disrupt his responsibility to the business.
None of the women he’d dated had ever known he had a mentally ill mother.
Years of introspection had afforded him the wisdom to understand he’d kept silent about it not because he was embarrassed by his mother’s illness, because he wasn’t, but that she was.
He didn’t want to add to her angst about living in a constant state of conflicting emotions and internal demons by people knowing about her struggles.
Mental illness was still such a hot button topic filled with misinformation, fear, and prejudice.
He didn’t think anyone had the right to judge his mother for her issues or anyone else for that matter who had their own battles with mental health.
Something Charity told him slipped back into his mind while relaying how he spent the day with his mother.
Southerners don’t hide our crazy people away and make excuses for them. We just love ‘em and bring ’em out into the open, sit ’em on the porch and drink sweet tea.
Maybe that’s why he’d confided in her. She was accepting and understanding about the situation without any judgement. Charity Quinlan was the first – the only – woman he could be truthful with about his mother’s condition and not feel as if she thought him or his mother less than because of it.
That realization flipped his heart on its side. He actually felt it shuffle in his chest as she offered him a piece of the garlic bread. His hands shook when he reached for the breadbasket.
“You okay?” she asked.
One quick head bob and then he repeated his tired comment.
“Well, that’s easily remedied. You should get to bed right after dinner. Make up for some of the sleep you’ve lost out on the past few days.”
Going to bed sounded great. Sleeping in it alone? Not so much. He wanted Charity next to him, cuddled against his chest.
Hell, he wanted a whole lot more than to cuddle with her.
A brief silence grew between them, a mote of tension building.
“Kolby—”
“Listen, Charity—”
She grinned.
“You go first,” he said.
When she bit down on her bottom lip he’d never in his life wanted to taste anything more.
“I want to apologize.”
He couldn’t begin to think for what, so he asked her.
Her lip was gonna bleed if she bit down on it any harder.
“I was incredibly rude and mean and nasty to you on Saturday night. There’s no excuse I can give, other than my temper got the better of me, something I try so hard to contain.
After everything with Tom, well, it came to a head and I screamed at you like a banshee in the night and I want to say. ..I’m sorry.”
He waited a beat as he formulated what he wanted to say.
“I think we both owe the other an apology for that night. I had no right to butt in when Tom wasn’t getting the message you wanted him to leave.
I knew you could handle the situation, but, like you, sometimes I just can’t do what I should do instead of what I want to do.
” He cocked his head. “Is everything okay, between you two?”
She huffed out a laugh that was coated in sarcasm. “Not even close. We’re not seeing one another anymore.”
“Oh. I...I’m...sorry?”
Her mouth dissolved into a lopsided grin. “Is that a question or a statement?”
He shrugged. “Little of both? More on the question side, I guess. How do you feel about it? I mean, Liv set you both up, you were supposed to be perfect for one another, so it’s gotta feel, I don’t know? Upsetting?”
Forking in the last of her food, she took a few moments to chew then swallow. “Funny thing is, I’m not as upset about it as I should be. There were a few red flags before Saturday’s incident.”
“Like what?”
“I don’t want to get into it,” she shook her head, “but enough things that told me something Liv said was true. People can be a perfect match on paper, but in real life, things can be different especially when there’s no spark.”
“And there wasn’t with Tom?”
“Zero.” She sighed.
A primal sense of happiness pushed at his core. Good. He didn’t like the guy, was man enough to admit he was jealous of the time he got to spend with Charity, and was thrilled he was no longer in the picture.
But did that mean someone else soon would be?
“So what happens now?” he asked. “With Liv and the whole matchmaking thing?”
She rose with her empty plate in one hand, and carried it to the sink. “She’s got another girl for Tom, her Plan B as she calls it.”
“What about you?” He mimicked her movements with his own plate and the now empty beer glass.
“She’s working on it,” she said.
Why didn’t she sound happy about that? As she filled the sink with water, she mumbled something about having to fill out another questionnaire.
“What?”
She rinsed a dish and then handed it to him to put in the dishwasher. “I had to fill out this ridiculously long questionnaire about my life, what I want for the future, in a partner. Stuff like that. I just wonder if I have to do a new one.”
“Has anything changed in your responses?”
She shook her head.
“Then you probably won’t.”
The dishes stored in the dishwasher, she started washing the pots. Kolby grabbed a dishtowel.
“So,” he asked, hoping his voice sounded even, “what were some of the questions?”
“A few were basic, like how many kids I wanted, if I wanted any. How would I feel if I couldn’t have any.
If my match didn’t want kids would that be a deal breaker?
What did I see as the role of wife compared to the role of husband when it came to stuff like household chores, raising kids, working.
” She handed him the pot lid to dry. “Where I want to see my life in five years.”
“What about the not basic ones?” He put the dried lid on the counter and waited for the pot to be cleaned.
“What was I willing to concede on if money became an issue. Did I have triggers. That one I had to ask about because I couldn’t figure out what she meant. Did I consider myself easy to get along with or did I have any issues that could be construed as negative.”
Kolby grinned as he accepted the pot. “Were you honest about your control freak flag?”
She tossed him a speaking glance while she washed the cutting board. “I don’t see it as an issue, but yes, I was.”
After handing him the board she cocked a hand on her hip. “What about you?”
“What about me?”
“What do you want for the future you? How do you see your life in five years? Ten? Still a guy living the single life?”
When those gorgeous blue eyes settled on him, the punch to his gut almost took him down.
If asked that question a month ago he’d have given her his stock answer: Why change what’s working?
Now? After seeing what it could be like to come home to someone who cared about you? Who didn’t even realize that just by smiling at you a bad day was made so much better?
Now? His mind was moving in the opposite direction.
“I don’t really give it much thought,” he said, crossing his fingers metaphorically behind his back. He put the lid on the pot then put them both in the pantry closet.
Charity leaned back against the sink counter and folded her arms across her body. The slant of her head coupled with the way she nibbled at a corner of her mouth told him she was gearing up for something.
“Why don’t I believe that for a second?”
She’d infused just enough Mississippi into the question that all the blood in his body shunted to the region south of his waist.