Night Whispers - Leslie Kelly [66]
Mitch wondered if she knew he was listening. Was she asking him to evaluate his feelings for her? Mitch wasn’t ready to do that, but she seemed to be forcing the issue.
“Your physical attraction to him, the excitement you feel when you’re in his arms, that’s only the beginning. It’s also your complete trust in him, knowing he’ll be on your side even if you’ve done something totally stupid, the idea that you’d rather stay home with him to watch an old movie than get dolled up and go out. These are clues of love. Realizing that he doesn’t care if you look like Frankenstein’s bride the morning after a party, or that he’ll tell you your bathing suit looks terrific even if you know you look fat in it, looking at him doing something as simple as reading a newspaper and thinking just how much you actually like him…well, now you’re in very deep.”
Mitch smiled during her brief pause. He liked her, too.
She continued. “Now, add that moment when you’re ready to scream because he left the toilet seat up and then he hands you a bunch of flowers he picked from your own garden. Your annoyance just evaporates. That’s the moment. Real love is when all the varied feelings you have for another person come together in an instant of utter clarity and you realize your life was a huge empty shell before he stepped into it.”
Mitch frowned. This was just a show. Kelsey was onstage when she did Night Whispers. She spoke about topics designed to encourage callers and help her ratings. So why did he feel she was reaching through the speakers, telling him, and only him, how she felt?
“Real love…once you find it, hold it tight and never take it for granted. It will last if you nurture it. And when you are both old and gray and slow in your movements and have only each other to laugh at your bad jokes, it will still be there.”
As a song began to play, Mitch walked to the stereo to turn it off. He didn’t want to hear any more.
Mitch paced around the living room, nearly tripping over a pair of shoes she’d left on the floor near the fireplace. One soft leather glove lay near the door. A fashion magazine rested on the coffee table among the archaeological journals, and a bottle of pale pink nail polish stood on an end table. The room was filled with her light scent. He couldn’t turn around without seeing something that belonged to her or reminded him of her.
When had he fallen in love with her? For there was no question that he loved her. Her words tonight had forced him to acknowledge that. He’d reached that “moment” she’d been babbling on about and now didn’t know what on earth to do about it.
He couldn’t love Kelsey. He liked her. He was amazingly attracted to her. He’d drifted into an affair with her against all common sense. But he didn’t have room in his life to love her.
Mitch was essentially a loner, getting mentally swept away when studying something that intrigued him. He’d never planned on marrying and raising a family. He liked being able to pick up and leave the country for six months at a time. He liked his calm, unencumbered life.
With Kelsey, he found his emotions called the shots and his brain ran to catch up. She appealed to a part of him he thought he’d managed to suppress, the part of him that didn’t fit in with his current existence.
Using every bit of his analytical experience, Mitch went over and over the reasons he couldn’t love Kelsey. A couple of hours later, he nearly had himself convinced.
But, of course, when she walked in the door and smiled that smile, he knew he was a goner.
11
KELSEY DIDN’T THINK too much about the roses. After all, they’d arrived at the station, just as the letters had. The address was right in the phone book for anyone to see.
The balloons in her car were another matter entirely. Brian