But I sort of do and in some completely screwed up way, I feel guilty about that. How am I ever going to get better if feeling better also makes me feel guilty? How messed up am I?
I don’t want to answer that. The answer scares me. I don’t know if I’m fixable. To some extent, sure, I guess I am. Last night was proof of that. Wasn’t it?
But the loss of Jeanie, the grief I feel, the hole inside of me that she used to fill, the guilt about Kyle and my own behavior, those things are still here.
He glanced up at the horizon. A small fishing boat was navigating the inlet, headed toward the ocean. A man and his son.
Mitch felt an intense tug of emotion. A sharp pang of longing for that very thing. Jealousy over the perceived relationship on display. But Kyle wasn’t interested in reconciling and Mitch couldn’t force the issue.
He closed his eyes. He’d give anything to have his son back in his life. To make things right. But nothing he’d done had made any difference.
He knew Kyle had a girlfriend. He’d seen them together on Kyle’s Instagram. A young woman by the name of Addison. Actually, it was her Instagram that Mitch followed. He’d tried to friend Kyle or whatever the term was but after he did that, he’d no longer been able to find Kyle’s page. Mitch assumed he’d been blocked.
Fortunately, he’d already found Addison’s page through a tag.
She was what Lucas would probably call an influencer. Or she was trying to be. She had close to seventy thousand followers, which wasn’t a lot compared to some, but it wasn’t a small amount, either. Mitch had over a million followers on his Facebook page, half that on Instagram, and one and a half times that on Twitter. Or X. Or whatever it was called now. All things he knew because he got monthly reports from his social media team. He seldom went on any of the pages himself.
Just like he rarely looked at Addison’s page, but when he did, it was obvious that she was on that page a lot. Seemed like she often posted twice a day. Kyle showed up at least three times a week.
Mitch didn’t like the way Addison referred to him. She treated him like an accessory, sometimes poking fun at how she could get him to do anything. How he was perfectly trained. Kyle just smiled and went along with it.
Not a relationship Mitch understood. He didn’t consider himself old-fashioned. But he and Jeanie had always had a deep, mutual respect for each other. If anything, he’d put her on a small pedestal at times. Seemed fitting, as she’d been the sun and moon of his universe.
He doubted Kyle felt the same way about Addison. It just didn’t seem like that kind of a relationship to Mitch.
Addison’s posts almost always included her own face, even when the post was about a product. He knew she was supposed to be pretty, but her look wasn’t one that appealed to him. Probably showing his age. He preferred a more natural look than her hyper-perfect, plastic appearance.
Addison sported long blond hair, fake lashes and nails, and was always made up with what looked like every possible cosmetic product available. Generally, her clothing had some visible logo on it somewhere.
She looked like every other wannabee influencer out there. As if there was some internet factory stamping them out of a mold.
How Kyle found that attractive was beyond Mitch, but understanding his son wasn’t something he could claim.
He finished his coffee. He probably should have been writing all those thoughts down, but the moment had passed. He didn’t want to think about where he’d gone wrong with Kyle or what was wrong with him presently.
All Mitch wanted to do was write. Charlie Nightingale never disappointed him. And there was now a reward for a solid day of writing.
He got to see Harper and talk about the work he’d done.
He closed the journal and took his empty cup into the kitchen. Joyce was making pancakes, and the scent of vanilla was strong. His stomach rumbled.
She looked up from the griddle. “You want a couple eggs with these?”
“No, the pancakes will be enough.”
“Well, I’ve already got a tray of bacon in the oven. Should I just put it away when it’s done?”
“No, I’ll have a couple slices.”
She smiled. “All right, then. I’ll fix you a plate soon enough. If you want to work for a bit, I’ll call you when it’s ready.”
“Okay.” He refilled his mug and went into his office. He set the coffee down on his desk, then tucked the journal away and fired up his laptop.
Curiosity got the best of him. He did a Google search on Harper’s name, just to see what would come up. She’d been on his mind. He hoped the letters he’d helped her with had done their intended job and smoothed things out.
Plenty of hits came up. He was about to click on one to see what it said, then decided against it. This was Harper’s business. She’d tell him about it later, if he asked. But digging into this stuff on his own felt like being a bystander at a horrific car accident. It did no one any good. And giving clicks to a site that was involved in spreading malicious things about someone he considered a friend only helped the site.
He closed down the search window and went to his email. There was one from his publisher. The first book in his series was going into a tenth reprinting. Below several promotional newsletters was an email from Lucinda. He clicked on it and read her note. She’d sold audio rights to Japan, Norway, and Portugal for the book he was currently working on.
