She wasn’t mine.
Charlie would never be mine.
It killed me — physically, I felt my heart cracking as it digested the truth. But what hurt more was that Charlie was right. I had come to Mount Lebanon searching for a home, and I’d found it in her.
But she couldn’t be my home. She was already Cameron’s.
The longer we sat there, the heavier my thoughts were, and I felt darkness slipping inside me like an old friend coming home. I tried to hold the door closed, to block it out, but it was no use.
I didn’t realize how long I’d been silent until Charlie spoke again, her words muffled with a fresh wave of tears.
“I’m sorry, Reese,” she said, breaking. “I’m so, so, sorry. I care for you so much, and it breaks my heart to break yours. I hope you’ll forgive me, I hope one day—”
“Shhh.”
I pulled her into me, wrapping my arms all the way around her as she broke in my arms. Her tears came harder, her shoulders shaking, and I smoothed a hand over her hair as I searched for the right words.
“Don’t be sorry,” I told her.
“I hurt you.” Her voice was muffled in my chest, and I held her tighter. “I never wanted to hurt you. I never wanted to hurt anyone.”
“I know. I know you didn’t.” I forced a breath, kissing her hair. “In another lifetime, it could have been us, couldn’t it?”
Charlie sniffed, not answering, her hands fisting in my shirt.
“Maybe if I would have kissed you, if we would have stayed in touch. Maybe if I never would have left at all.” My heart squeezed. “Maybe my family would still be alive, then, too.”
Charlie pulled back, her eyes finding mine. We were both a mess, tears staining our faces, eyes red and puffy.
“You could never know,” she whispered. “In this lifetime or any other, everything happens for a reason, Reese. Your heart will heal, and you’ll find home again,” she promised me, as if she could possibly know for sure. “It may not seem possible right now, but you will. And something tells me the home you find will be more than you ever imagined. More than you’ve ever had before.”
She smiled then, a small, timid smile, and I returned it with as much energy as I could muster. Then, I pulled her into me again, allowing myself just a few moments more to hold her, to be with her, to pretend she was mine.
There’s nothing okay about losing the person you love.
Nothing would help ease the pain — I knew that even in the very first stage of it. There would be nothing to make it go away, nothing to numb it at all. So, in that moment, with her still in my arms — I welcomed it. I lived in it like I had after my family passed, only this time, it was a little easier.
Because I knew in the end, she was happy.
I had been wrong about Cameron. That much I knew when he fought back, when he didn’t let her go so easily. But then he’d shown me even more of who he was when he’d come to my house, when he’d told me he would bow out should she choose me. He wanted her happiness more than his own, and it was then that I realized he was a better man than I was — even if I hated admitting it.
He was fucked up, just like all of us, but he loved Charlie fiercely.
I knew he would treat her right, that he would mend what was broken, and that they would find happiness again together.
Perhaps that was what hurt the most.
Charlie was in no rush that night. She let me hold her as long as I needed to, and only when I stretched my arms and let her loose did she look at me, her eyes dry now, a soft smile on her lips.
“I will always love you,” she whispered.
I mentally traced the gold flecks in her eyes, knowing I would forever see them in my dreams.
“As will I always love you.”
I sealed that promise with one final kiss, one soft and sweet pressed to her lips.
And then, I let her go.
It was only in the exact moment that I let her walk out my door that I realized I truly did love her. Not in the selfish way I had since I was a kid, not in the empty way I had when I returned to Mount Lebanon looking for something to fill me again. I loved her in the true, genuine way.
Because I loved her enough to set her free.
In that moment, as much as my soul split open as she walked away, I put her happiness above my own. It was what Cameron had done from the start, what I wasn’t sure I could ever do, and yet here I was.
And I was thankful for that love.
If it was all I had, that one chance to love someone that much, that wholly, to care for them more than I care for myself — then I was glad to have it.
Even if it didn’t last.
It felt like an addict letting go of an addiction of sorts as Charlie pulled away, and I found myself already thinking of making amends. I owed a lot of people a lot of things after the way I’d been behaving — Blake an apology, Cameron one, too. I owed Charlie the respect and space to love her only from a distance, to never cross that line she’d redrawn between us. I owed it to my family to truly live again, to let them go, to somehow find a way to release the guilt I felt over their death.
And more than anything, I owed it to myself to build a new home — one that started with me — instead of trying to find it in someone else.
I knew the pain was far from over. I knew the race had just begun. I would spend months drowning in the bottle, in the memories, and a part of me knew I’d never fully let Charlie go.
But still, as her taillights disappeared from view, I found myself smiling.
My heart was broken, but it was still beating.
I could work with that.
The End
EPILOGUE
* * *
Eighteen months later
Charlie
I’d never seen my parents’ house covered in so much pink.
Pink streamers hung from the banisters, along with classy, delicate pink lights that dangled from rose gold wire. There were pink chairs at every pink tablecloth-covered table. The napkins that wrapped around the silverware were pink, along with the plates and glasses, and of course, the cake was pink, too — and covered with glitter. Mom had even had two kiddie pools put in, though it was only thirty degrees outside and just weeks from Christmas. Both were heated, with pink walls and lights to illuminate the water, and there were more balloons in the house than I remembered at my college graduation party.
It was Daisy’s first birthday.
I scanned the entertainment room with a smile as I balanced a fresh pitcher of strawberry lemonade in one hand and a pack of wipes in the other. There were kids all over the house — some that I knew, most that my mother knew from other grandparents at the country club. Even Daisy’s older cousin, Callie, was in attendance, along with my brother and Christina. They sat at the edge of one of the pools, holding Callie’s hand as she splashed around.
Mom was fussing with the plates on the table where the large cake was, talking eighty-miles-per-minute to the poor server assigned to that task. Dad was standing right next to Cameron, who sat in front of the smaller cake, the one Daisy would smash her face into.
And Daisy sat on his lap.
She was all smiles in her bright pink onesie and tutu, both just as glittery as the cake we were all about to eat. Her dark hair that had been present from the moment she was born curled over her ears, and her dark lashes brushed her cheeks with each giggle that slipped from her lips.
Her eyes were bright blue.
The doctor told us they wouldn’t stay that way, but they had so far, and I loved those little blue eyes. They were the ones that looked up at me as Cameron and I cried in the hospital, and the ones that watched me curiously each night when I breast fed her. They were the eyes that watered when she stuck her little tongue on Cameron’s lemon drop, the ones that lit up whenever we played peek-a-boo, and the ones that watched her cake now with the most mischievous smile right beneath them.
When Mom told me she wanted to plan Daisy’s first b
irthday, I had nearly laughed. “Why so early?” I had asked. But then I realized her birthday was just a month away. My little girl had already been alive for one full year, and it just didn’t seem possible.
So much had happened in that year.
Cameron had completely renovated the house after the dust settled last spring. My library had yet again been turned into a nursery, only this time, it had also been rebuilt — downstairs, right next to Scarlett and Rhett. I spent many afternoons there as my belly rounded, and even more with baby Daisy in my lap as I rocked in the hammock and she stared up at the birds in wide-eyed wonder.
Work had slowed down for Cameron, too. He’d told his boss that he needed less work now that he had a family coming, and with my father behind him, his wish was granted. He still worked hard, and there were still overtime days, but they were few and far between.
Less time at the office left more time for us.
I started joining Cameron at his sessions with Patrick, realizing I had just as much to work through as Cameron did. We had individual and couple sessions both, and together, we worked toward a healthier relationship.
And by the grace of God, we fell in love again — deeper in love.
We spent hours in the garden, and full days in the aviary. We would talk until our throats were sore, and dance like we were just twenty again. We rebuilt the connection we had broken, earned back the trust we had lost, and more than anything, we started a new chapter together with more gusto than we’d ever written with before.
Watching him now from across the room as I sat the new pitcher down, it was hard to remember what we’d been through. We were so happy now, so blissfully happy, I couldn’t remember what it had felt like to feel rejected by him. I couldn’t remember the darkest days, the betrayal, the torture — for both of us.
Life had a way of doing that, of giving us brighter days that seemed to completely knock out the dark. I loved living in that new light with Cameron.
“I think everyone is here,” Mom said, flitting by me in a hurry with an arm full of damp towels from the pools. “We should do the smash cake soon.”
“Yes, Mom,” I said on a chuckle, but I doubted she even heard with how fast she whizzed by.
I was in no rush to do the cake, or to open the presents, or send everyone home. My daughter was turning one, and all I wanted to do was take the day in. I watched Cameron as he whispered in Daisy’s ear, her little hands wrapped around his fingers, and then he’d nibble at her neck and she’d giggle like it was the funniest thing in the entire world.
And I realized how much our life had changed once she’d come into it.
Graham and Christina had given birth to a healthy Callie just months before we did the same with Daisy, and once we were flung into life with a newborn, the days flew by. It was more than I could have ever imagined, living in my new world with Cameron. I had thought I was prepared, that anticipating the arrival of Jeremiah and Derrick had set me up for motherhood, but I had been wrong.
Being a parent was so much more than baby books and birthing classes.
It was late night groans over who would get up to change diapers. It was fits of laughter over each face she made, and fits of anger over each toy stepped on in the dark. It was pictures that didn’t do real life justice, memories captured with eyes and cameras both. It was worry over if we were feeding her the right things and loving her the right way. It was tears of agony when she was sick, when all we wanted to do was take the pain for her, and it was tears of joy over her first word spoken.
Of course, her first word was “no.”
She already knew what she wanted and what she didn’t, and I loved that about her. Daisy inspired me already.
Yes, a lot of things had changed since Daisy joined our world, but some things remained the same.
Life at Westchester ticked on as usual, though I found myself more involved in after-school activities once I’d been awarded Teacher of the Year. Each new class that came in was a new challenge, the curriculum constantly adjusting to technological advancements, and the students seemed to be more and more prepared for school each year that I received them.
Once they left Kindergarten, I would see my students only every so often — except for Jeremiah. He found me at least a few times a week, either stopping by my classroom or joining me for lunch when I would sit in the cafeteria with the kids. He was moved into his new home just seven short months after we broke ground, and our connection was only solidified in that time. He’d always be like a son to me.
And with Westchester came another constant.
Reese.
At first, after everything that happened, Reese seemed to disappear from my life altogether. He was still at school, I knew, but never around me. Our paths never crossed, and for a while, I wondered if they ever would again.
I didn’t tell him I was pregnant, not until my belly was round enough that I was telling everyone else. And I saw it in his eyes, the want to know, the curiosity if it was his child.
But he never asked me.
He stayed away, saying nothing to me other than a mumbled congratulations when I’d first told him. But something changed around six months into my pregnancy.
He went to Cameron.
To this day, I had no idea what happened during that conversation. I had no idea what was said, what was yelled or cursed, or what was agreed upon. All I knew was that one day Reese wasn’t looking at me, and the next, he was at my parents’ dinner table right across from me and Cameron.
Cameron and Reese weren’t friends — not even close — but they existed in the same space together. It was more than I ever expected, especially once Daisy was born. Cameron invited Reese to our home to meet Daisy, and Reese had attended family functions with my parents and us just like he had before everything went down. We’d had game nights and dinners, fundraisers and lazy afternoons on Mom and Dad’s porch over the summer.
And though Reese was around, he still kept a respectful distance from me, only speaking to me when Cameron could see us. He kept conversations light and easy, and though I thought it would never be possible, we’d found a sort of friendship.
A very strange, very nontraditional friendship.
I pulled a few wet naps from the pack, ready to make my way over to Cameron and Daisy when the front door swung open. A burst of cold rushed in, and Mom’s high greeting was the first thing I heard.
“Reese! You made it!”
She pulled him into a hug, and I didn’t see him fully until she’d flurried away again, spouting off directions for him to drop his present on the gift table. He shrugged off his coat first, handing it to the butler at the door, and once his gift was no longer in his hands, his eyes found me.
There was always a spark of something when Reese looked at me, and I knew for as long as I lived, it would exist. It wasn’t the same heat or passion I’d once felt, and it wasn’t that first spark I remembered feeling as a girl — the one that rumbled up from deep in my tummy like a volcano of butterfly wings. No, it was more comfortable now, safe and dependent, like the feeling you get when you hear an old favorite song and still remember all the lyrics, or smell a candle that takes you back to a memory once forgotten.
Reese offered me a timid smile, tucking his hands in his pockets as he crossed the room to the table where I stood. I tidied up the drink station as he made his way over, and once he stood beside me, I returned his smile.
“I just wanted to drop off a gift for her,” he said quickly. “But I won’t stay.”
“It’s okay to stay.”
“No, I don’t want to intrude,” he said, eyes skirting over to where Cameron held Daisy.
“Reese,” I said, lowering my voice. “It’s fine. Stay. We’re about to do cake.”
His eyes were still glued on my daughter, and he swallowed, nodding his head as he found my gaze. “Okay. If you’re sure it’s alright.”
“It’s fine.”
Reese looked around at all the decorations
then, his brows rising higher with each new area he took in.
“This is insane.”
I barked out a laugh, shaking my head. “Yeah, well, that’s my mother for you. I’m actually quite shocked you’re surprised by the magnitude of a first birthday party.”
“Oh, I knew it would be grand,” he clarified. “I just didn’t realize it’d be so…”
“Overwhelming?”
“Pink.”
I laughed again, resting my free hand on my hip as the other still gripped the wet wipes I had ready to go for the smash cake. “Yeah, I wasn’t expecting this much pink, either. I think Mom is still frustrated that we had such a gender-neutral theme in our nursery and the same at the shower. She’s been dying to do something pink.”
“I don’t think I’ll ever see the color the same again.”
Reese’s phone dinged from his pocket, and he pulled it out quickly, silencing the second notification.
“That the new girl?” I asked.
His face reddened, and he shook his head, but he was smiling. “Yeah. I asked if I could see her again.”
“And?”
Reese typed out a message on his phone before tucking it away again. “She said yes.”
“Yes?” I asked, excited. “That’s good, right?”
“Honestly? I’m not sure. I don’t know if I know what I’m doing anymore.”
I laughed. “Yeah, well, none of us do. You’ll figure it out. It’s kind of like riding a bike. And you used to ride a lot of bikes back in the day.”
He cocked a brow at me, pretending to be offended, but then he laughed, too. “I don’t know. I guess we’ll see.”
We both smiled then, a comfortable silence falling over us. Reese’s eyes fell to where my hand circled my belly, and he swallowed.
“You look great, by the way,” he commented, shifting the conversation. “Feeling uncomfortable yet?”
I looked down at the basketball swelling under my sweater dress and smiled, resting my hand at the top.
“Not yet. I’ve been lucky in my pregnancies so far. Now the birth?” I shook my head. “I’ll never be prepared for that torture.”
Best Kept Secrets (Complete Series) Page 49
