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*
The moment hegot home on Friday evening, Mitch walked up the stairs and opened his emails. Minutes later, he jumped up and started pacing. Riley had seen his email, he could see that, but she hadn’t responded. Was she going to read his manuscript or was she simply going to ignore it like she’d been ignoring all his calls and texts?
Why was it bothering him so much? Why couldn’t he stop thinking about her, dreaming about her, wanting her with every breath he took? Damn it, it had been two weeks.
Sighing, he opened his manuscript. He had no appetite, and he wasn’t sleeping; he might as well finish the damn thing and send it to a publisher. Over the last few weeks, he’d scoured the internet, phoned people he knew in the publishing business, and at least he now had a few names of publishers and agents he could try.
Everyone he’d contacted had been quick to tell him not to expect a reaction soon. It could take months, even years before his book would be published. There was the self-publishing route he could take, of course, but he’d do that when he’d exhausted all the other options.
Craig, Annie’s husband, was in marketing and had offered to help him with the promotion of the book, but that could only happen once he’d found someone willing to publish Dorothy and Joshua’s story.
Mitch started on the first page. The words he’d used to describe Dorothy—long, fiery-red tresses, startling blue eyes, saucy smile—caught his eye as they did every time he read the first paragraph. He continued reading for another few pages before he stopped. His eyes were taking in the words, but his mind was still on the first chapter.
He scrolled back, read the words describing Dorothy again. The red hair, the slender body, the saucy smile. For a moment, he saw Riley so clearly in front of him, his head reeled.
Jumping up, he started pacing while images of Dorothy and Riley took turns appearing in front of him. His heart was galloping away at an alarming rate, his blood roaring in his ears. Riley, Riley. Riley.
Finally, as if in slow motion, the roaring subsided, and his heartbeat slowed down. Piece by piece, a messy puzzle came together until he understood why he’d been so crazy since Riley had left—he loved her; he was in love with her. Hopelessly. Of course.
Combing his fingers through his hair, he barked out a laugh. Why the hell had it taken him so long to realize this? Damn it, his sisters had known it long before he’d caught on. He’d been waiting for her since… since forever. The moment she’d arrived in Marietta, his life had begun to make sense.
He had to get to Riley. Right now. Her address? He didn’t have her address. Cussing, he took out his phone. How could you love someone and not know where they lived? He phoned Annie; Vivian was probably still working.
His sister answered on the first ring. “Mitch?”
“I love her.”
Annie laughed, not bothering to ask what he was talking about as she knew. “Of course, you do! I just don’t know why it has taken you so long to figure it out.”
“I have to go and see her. But… her address?”
Annie laughed. “You have it bad, don’t you? Okay, this is what you have to do—go pack a bag—I’ll make your reservation, and I’ll text you her address. And Mitch?”
“Yeah?”
“Don’t mess this up, okay?”
“I’ll do my best.”
“Riley… she’s been hurt, as you know. Like us, she’s also lost people she loved. She’s rebuilt her life, and in her mind, she’s created the perfect home for her and Dylan. Understandably, she’s afraid of commitment, afraid to lose her identity when she allows someone else into her life. And she has Dylan to think of. You’ll have to keep all of the above in mind when you see her. Still want to go to her?”
“Hell, yeah. I love her. I love Dylan. I want to be with them.”
“Are you willing to move to Portland? Because she may not be prepared to leave her work and life.”
“I want to be with her. Whatever it takes.”
Annie sniffed. “Right answer. Go pack. I’ll tell Vivian. I’ll send you the boarding pass!”
“Thanks!” Mitch inhaled deeply. He was going to see Riley. Grabbing his overnight bag, he threw in a pair of jeans and a couple of shirts before he stopped.
An overnight bag was not going to work this time.
Annie phoned. There wasn’t a flight tonight that could take him to Portland; the first one was the only one the next morning. Damn. But okay, now he had the time to pack properly. Afterward, he’d try to finish editing his manuscript.
*
Riley huddled inher jacket as she walked toward Dylan’s school. She was shivering, she was cold, and felt lousy.
