The Next Best Thing

Chapter 14 (Part 1)

Two days later, while getting ready for work, Emma was about to check on the bathroom's occupied status when she heard Mitch speaking on his side in a deep, hushed tone.

Did he have someone over? If they were over this early in the morning then surely they'd been there the night before. It surprised her because somehow she imagined they had an understanding that bringing guests home would have to wait until they had more privacy, but maybe it was just in her head. He was a free man, and if privacy wasn't a concern for him, why should she feel bad about eavesdropping on this current conversation? It was only Mitch's voice she could hear, though, still low and sounding more and more agitated. She tried to lean in closer to make out the words. Her knee knocked into the cupboard under her sink and made enough noise to blow her cover. "Mitch, are you in there?" she called out quickly.

"Yep. Need me to leave?"

"No, you can stay." She waited a second, listening for whispers she didn't hear. "Is...everything ok in there?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah, I'm just telling my friend Howard off."

A man? All this time, he really just wanted to be friends??

"Oh, well, hello Howard," she called out awkwardly.

"He's not in here," Mitch snorted.

"Ohhh, you're on the phone." Phew! Emma thought, laughing at herself.

"No."

Before she could form her follow-up question, Mitch said, "Hey, do you have a second for me to show you something?"

"Sure."

"Let me grab it in my living room and come around to yours, okay? Just be a sec."

Emma pinched her cheeks for colour and fluffed up her curls in her hand mirror before running to her door in time to answer Mitch's knock.

He looked like hell.

He was in sweat pants and a white tee shirt that may or may not have been slept in, holding a laptop in his hands. He leaned with his shoulder on her doorframe in such a way that it seemed to be the only thing keeping him on his feet. She was surprised to see his shadow of stubble grown darker, and didn't know how she felt about it spreading out and obscuring his already rugged, handsome face. His eyes were bloodshot and she could smell stale alcohol on him.

"You're hungover?"

"No," he said, and almost fell asleep behind a long blink.

"Uhh...you are."

"Don't you have to have gone to bed to be? I have not gone to bed, therefore I am simply stumbling out of my inebriation into a new sober day."

"Because that's how it works. What were you doing all night?"

"Writing this." He punched a few keys on his laptop and handed it to her open on a draft email. "Read, please, and let me know what you think."

She read aloud:

Howard,

As I've tried to tell you repeatedly since Friday , I will not be returning to the Umpire State podcast. I know you said the audience you're trying to cultivate will be disappointed, but isn't 'awwww' just something mouth-breathers say a lot anyway?

Emma's eyes widened, which made it easier for them to pop as she read the rest. "I thought you already quit."

"I did, but they won't let me. They've been getting so much attention since Friday's debacle that they don't want to hear it. You should hear what they're offering for me to stay, but I'm no dummy. It's an invitation to the barbeque so they can put me on the spit. Screw that. I am hungry, though. Got any coffee? I do, but I have to grind the beans and I'm afraid it might actually kill me."