Page 58 of Meant to Be
“I don’t—”
“Let me finish!”
He jerked, but there was a faint smile as he sat back.
She huffed out a breath. “I’m sorry. I just… In college I was naive and timid. I know that. And you’re a part of what helped me overcome it. But I’ve grown. I’m stronger now.”
“I see that.”
“It’s important to me that you do.” She wasn’t sure why she made that admission, but there was no taking it back now that it was out.
“Why?”
She shrugged. “I know you blame me for letting my parents persuade me to postpone the wedding. But I’m not a twenty-one-year-old coed anymore. I make my own decisions.”
His lips twitched upward. “Your parents probably didn’t like that you came here. Where I am.”
She was entering slippery ground. To some extent, he was right. But not in the way he meant. “They’re parents. They have the same concern about my seeing you that your sister and probably your parents do. And it’s not that we’ll fall in love again.”
His face blanched. She wanted to be hurt by the idea that being in love with her would cause such a reaction, but the sight of his pale grimacing face made her laugh instead. “They’re all worried we’ll get hurt.”
“That’s not funny.”
“No.” She bit her lower lip to stop the laugh. “Mitch, I’m also not stupid.”
“I didn’t—”
She held up a hand again. “You interrupt more than I remember.”
He sat back, nearly pouting.
“I know it hurts you to see me, and I’m sorry for that. I’d do anything to make that go away. I’d love to be friends… maybe even with benefits.” She didn’t want him to have too much time to respond to that, so she hurried on. “But you don’t have to worry that I want more than that. I respect that you’re a confirmed bachelor.” A knock on the door let her know she needed to get to her next appointment. “I have a patient.”
He stood and looked like he wanted to say something, but nothing came out.
“I think you’re wasting your time going to Washington. Patrick has been a dear friend since I was a child. I trust him implicitly. But I understand you have to cover all bases, and maybe he knows something that could help.” She smiled, a little pleased that Mitch, for once, didn’t have anything to say.
“I can make you dinner when you get back.” Sydney left her office and headed to exam room three, pulling the file out of the cubby hanging on the door. She pushed thoughts of Mitch away, instead, taking in the name and brief information of the woman she was about to see.
She heard Mitch leave her office and glanced at him as he walked up the corridor until reaching the T, where he turned right to leave. She caught his fleeting look and perplexed expression. It was better than the usual look he gave her.
She turned back to the file and opened the door. “Hello, Mrs. Claymore.”
Mitch satin his police car, one arm draped over the steering wheel, and gazed at nothing outside the window, mulling over what had just happened. He’d gone to tell Sydney he was heading to Washington and to give her George’s information in case he didn’t get back in time. Somehow it had morphed into a conversation about the past and their relationship. That part wasn’t surprising, as it seemed like they couldn’t go two minutes without their past coming up. But… did she say friends… with benefits? He shook his head. He must have heard it wrong.
Sydney wasn’t a prude. When they’d gotten together in college, she had no qualms about a physical relationship with him, but that was because they were in love. Despite being braver and stronger, he didn’t see her as someone to have an affair.
“Maybe with benefits.” Casual, no-strings-attached sex with Sydney. Could he sleep with her and keep emotion out of it? With the other women, he’d gotten good at it. But Sydney was different from other women. He'd loved her once. He'd planned to spend his life loving only her. Being around her stirred up those feelings. Could those memories break through the wall he’d worked so hard to build? He had some serious thinking to do. As much as he wanted Sydney naked and writhing under him, there was no way he'd ever risk his heart again.
Shaking his head and refocusing on the task at hand, Mitch started the car and headed north, dreading the long drive. The first part of the trip wound through the fresh-washed spring countryside, newly green with pops of color from crocuses, daffodils, and tulips. The tranquil setting gave him time to think. But he knew the latter part of the drive would be miserable. It didn’t matter what route Mitch took, there was no way to get to the nation’s capitol without enduring traffic. In Charlotte Tavern, the only traffic slowdowns involved school buses or tractors.
Mitch made the best of the trip by attaching his phone to the aux plug in the car and turning on his alternative rock playlist.
He made good time to Interstate 95 in Fredericksburg, which had its own share of annoying traffic. But the northbound lanes were moving at a decent clip. He got off at Route 1, crossing the Potomac and hopping on 14thStreet. He had to admit, Washington was nice in the spring. As he passed the Ellipse and the White House, he remembered having a tour there as a kid, at an age when the idea of having a bowling alley in his house was cool.
He pulled into the front drive of the hotel and stopped the car. He cursed when he remembered he’d have to pay for valet parking, which had to be close to $50 without tip.
“Good morning, sir.” The valet smiled and waited for the keys.
