“Then help me trust you. Be honest with me. Why is it so hard for you to just tell me the truth?”
“Because I don’t trust you with the truth,” he admitted, his eyes hard on hers. “If I knew without a doubt that you would take my truth for what it is and leave it . . . I wouldn’t be afraid to be honest with you. But− I am afraid, afraid that the truth will be too much for you to handle, and you’ll leave me again.”
“Nicholas, that’s not fair. Don’t blame your lack of honesty on me.”
“I’m not blaming you for anything. I’m simply telling you how I feel.”
Shaking her head, she roughly combed her fingers through her thick curly hair. “So, I’m being punished from knowing the truth because of your fear that I’ll leave you again.”
“I’m not punishing you. I’m protecting what I have with you.”
Sighing, Charlotte shook her head a second time. “Nicholas, me sitting next to you right now should be evidence enough that I’m not going anywhere. God help me. You’re afraid?” she laughed, though there was no humor in it. “I’m afraid. Afraid that we are never going to get us back. We’re both trying . . . I know that, and sometimes it feels just like old times. But then, there are moments like this one− when I feel like I don’t truly know the man I’m married to, like my best friend isn’t there anymore.”
“Dimple−”
“Let me finish,” she said, holding up her hand to silence him. “If love wasn’t enough to keep us together, we wouldn’t be together. Apparently, you trust me just as little as I trust you, yet, here we are . . . together. At this point love is the only thing that’s keeping us together.”
“I don’t want to be stranded. And that’s how I felt when you left me . . . alone and stranded. I don’t ever want to endure that feeling of loneliness again.”
Charlotte heard the pain in his voice, but suppressing the urge to reach out to him, she simply said, “And I don’t want to be left in the dark.”
Swallowing his emotions, he pressed his sensuous mouth into a thin line. “I guess we haven’t made that much progress after all.”
“I guess not.”
Nodding his head dismally, Nicholas readjusted his weight in the warm leather seat, then turning off the emergency blinkers, he merged back into the heavy flow of traffic, his mind filled with regret. I guess not.
Chapter Fifteen
“Well, it certainly is nice to be surrounded by family,” Babet Toutant beamed as she sat at the head of the large dining room table opposite her husband. “I tell you what, I didn’t expect for all of us to be together like this . . . with Charli being so busy in New York,” she sighed dramatically. “I am truly pleased.”
Rolling her eyes, Charlotte reached for the tall glass of water to the right of her. And here we go, she thought. It never takes her long to get started.
“And, Nicholas. You’re being here makes me so happy. Manuel, aren’t you happy to have your son-in-law sitting at your table?” Babet asked her husband.
“Mhm,” Manuel Toutant hummed from behind his Sports Illustrated magazine.
“I wouldn’t have missed the opportunity to celebrate Adeline for anything,” he said sincerely, meaning every word. He had grown to care about the young girl, she was truly a character. “I apologize for not bringing a gift . . . I haven’t had the opportunity to go shopping for anything just yet, but I will as soon as we return to the city and I’ll mail it back.”
“You’re being here is more than enough,” Babet declared.
Adeline’s hazel eyes sparkled mischievously. “Don’t listen to her,” she said to Nicholas, meeting his silver gaze from across the table. “Your presence is not enough. High school was rough,” she complained. “And as my brother I expect for you to make up for the years missed.”
Nicholas’ boyish smile was immediate. “Years missed?”
“Years missed,” Adeline repeated. “Let’s see . . . there’s PreK graduation, Kindergarten graduation, fifth grade graduation, eighth grade graduation, and now my high school graduation. Your gift to me should be worth all of those missed years.”
Nodding his head in complete understanding, Nicholas said, “I see. I better take my time then.”
“For peace sake Manuel,” Babet complained. “Would you put that magazine down and enjoy this very rare moment with your family. It’s not every day that we get to spend quality time with all of our children.” When Manuel ignored her reprimand she continued, “Dieu, aide moi! Si vous ne posez pas ce livre, Manuel.” God, help me! If you don’t put that book down, Manuel.
“Femme lancinante. Quand me laisseras-tu en paix?” Nagging woman. When will you leave me in peace? Manuel groaned. Closing the magazine, he placed it on the table beside his dinner plate. “Are we going to eat, or is the food here for decoration?”
“Grace first,” Babet smiled. “Everyone bow your heads,” she said, closing her eyes. “Father Jehovah, we come to you with Thanksgiving in our hearts. Thanking you for blessing us with life more abundantly. Thanking you for family and friends. Lord, today is a wonderful day. Today our youngest daughter graduated from high school and we know it is all due to your grace and your tender mercies. We pray that as she enters this new stage of life, that she remembers to put you first. And that you will continue to keep her, bless her and protect her. We thank you God for the food that we are about to receive for the nourishment of our bodies, in Yeshua’s name, we thank you. Amen.”
“Amen,” everyone repeated in unison.
“Wonderful, now, Adeline. This is your celebratory dinner. You get first helpings. What would you like to start with?” Babet asked, her olive toned face glowing with pride.
Adeline’s eyes widened with excitement. “Everything,” she said, returning her mother’s smile. Lifting her plate, she held it out in front of her. “Give me everything,” she ordered.
“Aish!” Manuel reprimanded. “You would eat your life if it was on the table.”
“Manuel!” Babet rebuked him. “Enough.”
Adeline’s bright expression didn’t waver. “Everything,” she repeated. “Tout.” Everything.
Marguerite scooped a large spoonful of sweet potatoes onto her younger sister’s plate, then string beans, baked mac and cheese, and Greek salad. “Félicitations, Adie.” Congratulations, Adie.
“Merci,” Adeline said. Thank you.
Using her dinner fork, Charlotte picked up two devil eggs and placed them on Adeline’s nearly full plate. Then reaching for the pan of baked barbeque chicken wings she carefully placed three pieces beside the eggs. “Félicitations, Adie.” Congratulations, Adie.
“Merci,” Adeline said. Thank you.
“Meatballs,” Babet grinned from ear to ear. “Look! I made your favorite meatballs. “Avoir une certaine.” Have some. Rising slightly from her seat, Babet reached for the bowl of Hawaiian meatballs. Scooping two servings onto her daughter’s plate, she said, “Félicitations, Adie.” Congratulations, Adie.
“Merci,” Adeline giggled, jovially. Thank you.
Shaking his head, Manuel sighed. “Pure gluttony. How do you plan on becoming a starter at the University of California eating like that? You’re going to be playing with girls on your level now. The days of being the best on your team are over. You have to mind what you consume and treat every day like you’re conditioning.”
“Oui papa. je vais commencer à vivre tous les jours comme je conditionne, à partir de demain.” Yes, daddy. I will start to live everyday like I am conditioning, starting tomorrow.
Handing Charlotte the tray of meatballs, Babet said, “Everyone please help yourself.”
Charlotte took the metal dish from her mother and spooning two meatballs onto her plate she passed the salver to Nicholas, who hadn’t said two words to her since they arrived at her parents’ home. “Marguerite, how’s motherhood?” she asked. Her question must have surprised the other woman because she dropped her food on her fork before it reached her mouth.
“It’s good,” Marguerite answered, a small frown hardening her delicate features.
Inwardly amused by her sister’s un-comfortability, Charlotte continued, “How old is Connor now?”
“Nine weeks.”
Charlotte’s eyes stretched at the knowledge. “Wow, time is flying by. How does Todd like fatherhood?” Low blow, Charli, she chastised herself. She had known very well how much Todd had liked fatherhood. Their mother had already dropped the bomb about how neglectful the man had been to both Marguerite and the baby since they’d been separated. But, for the life in her, Charlotte couldn’t help herself. Misery really does love company, she mused.
Adeline dramatically cleared her throat, drawing everyone’s attention toward her. “Charli,” she said, “So, I was wondering how you’d feel about me spending some time in New York with you and Nicholas this summer? I thought maybe, I could come up in about a week and stay with you until August?”
Charlotte’s dark gaze met Adeline’s golden one. Awkwardly combing her fingers through her thick curly black hair, she hunched forward. “Not this summer, Adie. Nicholas and I are both really busy with work, and you would be left alone most of the time.”
The teenager’s smile broadened. “Even better,” she laughed. “No offense, Charli, but you’re even stricter than mom. Your absence would make for an ideal situation.”
Marguerite snickered. “She’s always been, Ms. Responsible.”
“I resent that,” Charlotte bit back, her eyes spitting fire at the other woman. “Adeline is seventeen. She’s a kid, she’s not an adult. Far be it for me to want to protect her and make sure she’s safe. Something that you would never even consider doing. You’ve always been wild and untamed . . . creating messes for everyone else around you to clean up. So, I wouldn’t expect you to understand the plight that comes along with taking care of a younger sibling when you can barely take care of yourself.”
Complete silence fell over the room. Marguerite pushed aside her hurt feelings and lifting her chin defiantly, she retorted , “Too bad I can’t be perfect like you. Charlotte parfaite. Ça doit être épuisant d'être toi. Se réveiller parfait et s'endormir parfaitement. . . ça doit être si ennuyeux.” Perfect Charlotte. It must be exhausting being you. To wake up perfect and go to sleep perfect . . . it must be so tiresome.
“Would you two please stop it. Today we should be celebrating Adeline, not arguing,” Babet chastised her eldest daughters. “You both should be the example, but it seems Adie has more sense than the two of you put together.”
“Nicholas,” Marguerite said his name with an innocence that made Charlotte physically cringe. “You must be perfect, too. If you were anything less my sister would not have said, ‘I do’. She disposes of people and things that lack flawlessness−”
“It wasn’t your flawlessness that caused me to throw you out, Marguerite. It was your whorish ways.”
Marguerite laughed bitterly. “And ten years from now . . . fifteen years from now, you’ll remind me of the one mistake I made,” she yelled at her sister. “Nicholas, please, I beg you don’t make any mistakes because you will never hear the end of it.”
Nicholas raised an eyebrow, but his handsome features otherwise remained an expressionless mask. Like everyone else at the table, he didn’t know what to say, and so he said absolutely nothing.
“I tried to work things out with you, but you are truly unbelievable,” Charlotte groaned.
“I’m unbelievable? Me? I make one comment about you being strict and overprotective, and you target me, ridicule me . . . how is that trying to work things out with me?”
Anger made Charlotte’s beautiful features appear harsh, her mouth was fixed into a thin line, her nose wrinkled . . . her arched brows knotted. Shaking her head at Marguerite, she rose from her seat and walked out of the dining room.
“Excuse me,” Nicholas said, standing to follow after her, but before he could move from the table Manuel raised his hand to stop his advancement.
“Give her some time with her thoughts. Trust me, she needs a moment alone,” the older man acknowledged. “Just have a seat and enjoy your cold meal . . . after all this nonsense, I’m sure it’s cold by now.”
Nodding his head at his father-in-law’s advice, Nicholas sat back down and began to eat his food. Manuel was right. The last thing Charlotte would have wanted was for him, or anyone else for that matter to see her vulnerable. Especially, him.
Chapter Sixteen
The night was alive with sound, male crickets chirping loudly with hopes of attracting a mate. Swarms of cicadas clung to green leaves and tree branches, noisily humming their songs, high- pitched melodies that enfolded the darkness. Fireflies soared above the perfectly manicured lawn, hovered over peonies to create a blazing pattern across the moonlit yard. Charlotte sat upright on the white oak porch swing, silently taking in her surroundings. Her overactive mind fed the internal chaos that defeated any possibility for peace and contentment. It had been several weeks since she and Nicholas had reconciled, and while things seemed to be going well for them, it didn’t take much to shatter the mirror of delusion that gave her a falsified hope− hope that their reunion would be sheer harmony and unyielding compromise. Their friendship had always been so easy, so incredibly effortless. Yet, their marriage was the complete opposite. Frowning, Charlotte thought back to the advice Menzie had given her . . . that she and Nicholas needed to have fun . . . that they needed to talk, really talk. Her sister-in-law was right, sex wasn’t enough to mend their issues− they needed more than physical chemistry . . . they needed to have fun together again.
“Charli Brown,” Manuel called from the doorway. Her father’s deep, soothing voice interrupted her thoughts, giving her a much- needed reprieve. Carrying a tall mug in either hand, Manuel walked out onto the porch allowing the screen door to slam shut behind him. “Your mother has been calling your name for the last half-hour, driving me insane,” he sighed. Handing Charlotte a mug, he sat down on the bench beside her. “Crazy old bat didn’t think to look outside.”
“How did you know I was out here?” she asked, accepting the warm cup with a half- smile.
Manuel smirked. Looking out into the yard, he took a long sip from his mug and then leaned against the back of the swing. Planting his feet to the wooden porch to gain momentum, he softly pushed forward, causing the bench to begin a steady rock. “Today was long, tiring. Dinner was even longer, and even more tiring. I figured you would have found a place to retreat, a hideaway.”
“Did Adeline cut her cake?” Charlotte asked, wanting amnesty from the direction their conversation was heading in. She refused to speak on what transpired at dinner. She refused to be reprimanded for expressing her feelings toward Marguerite.
“Cut it, and then devoured most of it herself. Cette fille est gourmande.” That girl is a greedy one.
Charlotte laughed. “Let her be, it’s her day.” Bringing the ceramic to her thin lips, she smelled the contents inside. Wrinkling her nose, she asked, “Père, what is this?”
“Old Creole Demoman Tea. Your uncle, Éleutère visited the French Quarter on his latest trip to New Orleans and bought bundles of it from a small teashop. When he visited last month, he brought your mother and I, canisters full of the leaves.”
“It smells strong.”
“Well, that’s because it is strong. What you smell is piny smoke and menthol. The aromas are supposed to relax you.”
Taking another whiff of the liquid substance, she asked, “Does it work?”
Her father shrugged. “Who knows? Depends on the person consuming it, I would assume. But, if the tea doesn’t relax you, the shot of Moscato should do the trick.”
Charlotte glanced at her father, her almond brown eyes wide with shock. “You spiked my drink,” she said, amusement heavy in her voice.
“I made you a temporary remedy for the monsters in your head,” Manuel huffed. “How are you and Nicholas doing?” he asked, taking another long drag of his tea.
“We’re good,” she lied.
Dismissing his daughter’s words with a wave of his hand, Manuel mused, “You’re better than you were at the wedding reception, that’s obvious, but you’re clearly not good.”
Color filled Charlotte’s cheeks. Looking away from her father’s tan face, she heaved a sigh of embarrassment. “You could tell something was wrong with us at the wedding reception?”
“Je suis ton père. Je sais quand tu es heureux et quand tu ne l'es pas. Vous avez eu les mêmes expressions depuis que vous étiez petit, chaque expression si dramatique, si intense. Je serais fou de ne pas reconnaître quand tu as mal.” I'm your father. I know when you are happy and when you are not. You’ve had the same expressions from the time you were little, every expression so dramatic, so intense. I would be a fool not to recognize when you are hurting.
Shrugging her thin shoulders, Charlotte forced a small smile to touch her thin lips. “You’ve always been able to see right through me,” she noted. Shifting slightly on the bench, she turned so that she was looking at her father. “But then, you’ve always paid attention.”
“How are you and Nicholas doing?” Manuel asked again, ignoring his eldest daughter’s attempt at diverting him. His tone was subtle. His expression was calm, unchanging as he continued to stare out into the front yard.
Charlotte sighed. “You already know how we’re doing.”
“Mhm, but sometimes Charli Brown it takes saying the words out loud that makes all the difference.”
For several moments, she sat there quietly absorbing her father’s words, taking in the wisdom he freely offered. Pulling her lower lip into her mouth, she bit down hard. Then swallowing her tears, she said, “Nicholas, and I are not doing well.” Charlotte’s dark browns regarded her father intently, waiting for a change in his disposition− the smallest change in his demeanor, but her waiting was in vain. Frowning, she asked, “Aren’t you going to ask why?”
A Winter's Seduction (A Winter's Tale Series Book 5) Page 11
