Page 5 of Meant to Be
“Yes.”
“In about six months. “
“That’s awesome. Uncle Mitch.” He tested the sound of it. “I think I like it.”
In the background, the door opened. “Hello?”
“That’s Mom and Dad. Mum’s the word.” Lexie was a small woman, but she wasn’t one to be crossed.
Mitch nodded. His life might be going to hell, but he’d live vicariously through Lexie and Drake’s happiness.
Sydney madeher way into her apartment, one of four in a renovated Victorian home. She kicked the door shut and made her way toward the couch. She’d intended to plop down in an emotionally exhausted heap but, instead, detoured to the kitchen. Dealing with her day required wine. Copious amounts of it. She brought the whole bottle with her back to the couch along with an oversized wine glass. Taking a gulp, she sat back and tried to figure out what the hell she’d been thinking by moving to Charlotte Tavern.
“It’s not good to make any major decisions right after a traumatic event.” Her childhood friend Doctor Patrick Andres’s words came back to her. But it was that traumatic event that had her rethinking her life and her choices. She could have died after being attacked in the parking lot of her New York hospital. In the aftermath, all she could think about was Mitch and what might have been. He was the one regret in her life she couldn’t die without resolving.
When she learned about an opportunity for a sabbatical in Charlotte Tavern, Virginia, she took it as a sign that she needed to get her resolution. So she made the arrangements for leave, sublet her apartment, and moved to Virginia.
Overall, she liked the south. Southern hospitality wasn’t a myth. Everyone was friendly and accepting of her. Even when she went for her morning run, people she didn’t know smiled and waved. In New York, if she smiled and waved at strangers, they’d protect their wallets and run away.
The only thing she hadn’t been able to bring herself to do in the six weeks she’d been in town was see Mitch. She’d found his number and address in the phonebook the first day she moved in. Calling would have been easier, but she knew they needed to talk in person, if she had the guts to see him. She’d driven by his home so many times, she was afraid someone might report her as a stalker. Sydney wasn’t fearful of many things. Not anymore.
She’d spent a year as a doctor in a refugee camp in Jordan, where she witnessed the incredible courage and dedication of the Syrian women she worked with. It was hard to be timid about life in a place like the United States where she had a successful career and a support system after meeting people who purposefully left their homes with only the things they could carry to live in tents in a different country. Many who’d made the long trek on foot were pregnant women. They taught Sydney what it meant to be strong.
After the attack, her confidence wavered, but she was determined to not let it hinder her life. More than anything, she’d been afraid that Mitch wouldn’t respond well to seeing her. A fear that came true. Her stomach clenched at the memory of it. How he’d looked at her with such bitterness and then pretended not to know her.
Sydney finished her wine and poured another glass. Maybe Patrick was right. She should have thought through her decision more carefully. She could have arranged a visit instead of a move. She groaned at the stupidity of her impulsive decision. She was now stuck for another ten months in a town where people were nice, unless they didn’t like you. And from Jenny’s comment about Mitch’s “bitch ex,” Sydney was pretty sure she’d be ostracized when they learned she was that bitch.
She eyed the wine bottle, concerned there wouldn’t be enough, when her phone rang. Excitement and panic flared. Was he calling? She dug her phone from her purse.
“Hello?”
“Hey, Syd.” Julia Andres, her best friend and Patrick’s sister, greeted her. Sydney chastised herself for thinking it could be Mitch. How would he have even gotten her number?
“Oh, hey.”
“You alright?”
“Nothing time and wine won’t heal.” Sydney topped off her glass and leaned back, grateful for the haze from the wine and the call from her friend.
“I take it you finally saw him?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
Sydney didn’t like reliving the scene in her mind. The idea of speaking it out loud was unbearable. Still, she needed a friend. “He pretended to not know me.”
“Ouch. That’s a jerk thing to do.”
“I think he was just taken off guard.” Why was she defending him? He had been kind of a jerk. Granted, she’d started it ten years ago, but still.
“What did he say?”
“Nothing, really. A nurse at the hospital was trying to set us up. He apparently has a reputation as a ladies’ man, but she’s happily married and wanted to play matchmaker.”
“Does she know about you and him?”
“She didn’t at the time. It won’t be long before she knows I’m the one that hurt him, at which point, I may be run out of town.”
