Beyond the Orange Moon (Mathews Family Book 2)

by Adrienne Frances

  “This isn’t about me!” Linda snapped. “I’m a fifty-eight year old woman. I met the love of my life, married him, had babies with him, and I lost him.”

  “Hello?” Charlie said, and pointed to himself.

  “You’re twenty-seven years old, Charlie! You have a whole life ahead of you. I was almost twice your age when I lost your father.”

  “Mom,” Dylan groaned, and put her face in her hands. “Are you serious? You have a lifetime left to go.”

  Charlie took a seat next to his mother and looked at the faded wood of the kitchen table, remembering a time when his entire family sat around it to eat their meals together. Today, their seven chairs and the leaf in the center were still there, as if they still ate together every day. His mother’s home was like a time capsule; nothing much had changed from when his father was there, eleven years before.

  “What’s the story with Mike?” Charlie asked, and met his mother’s eyes. “What happened there?”

  Linda’s eyes widened and she took in a sharp breath. “What?”

  “Mom,” Dylan said, “don’t do that. We’re not little kids anymore. We know there’s something there.”

  “There’s nothing there!” she said with tears in her eyes.

  Charlie leaned back and gave her a hard look. “I don’t believe you.”

  Linda stood up and grabbed her mug. “Well, it’s certainly not anything I’m going to talk to my children about. I’m going to see if Jack is up from his nap.”

  Charlie and Dylan watched their mother rinse out her mug and put it in the dishwasher. Without another word, she walked out of the kitchen and headed up the stairs.

  “She’s still doing the cupcakes for the benefit,” Dylan said when he turned his attention back to her. “I also asked her to do them for my wedding. I ordered and paid for everything already and I’m not asking her for a refund.”

  Charlie bit his lower lip as he took in her words. “Do whatever you have to do, Dylan. I really don’t care.”

  Clearly annoyed, Dylan stood up. “And I think that’s just about the saddest thing I’ve ever heard,” she said, and walked away.

  After she was out of his sight, Charlie heaved a heavy sigh and slumped down in his chair. He was lonely and he didn’t want to live that way, but he also didn’t want to be disappointed again. He’d stood right in front of Lucy and explained his wedding ring to her like an idiot. Of course she hadn’t questioned it; she knew the whole time. That, above all, made him feel so stupid.

  He’d trusted her and she’d lied.

  He’d opened up to her and she’d closed him out.

  This was the result of loving someone. No matter what, you end up losing. Why bother at all?

  He wondered if he would’ve allowed it to get as far as it did if he’d recognized her from the beginning. Or, more importantly, if she’d told him the truth. Would he have wanted anything to do with her? More than likely, no.

  She’d watched him at his lowest point. That was about as private as someone could get. He didn’t want to be known as the grieving widower. He didn’t want anyone to remember the way he’d screamed when he’d witnessed the doctors and staff give up and call his wife’s time of death.

  “Where is everyone?” he heard behind him and jumped.

  “I didn’t hear you come in,” he told Ben.

  Ben put his bag down on the floor. He smirked a little and cocked his head. “You daydreaming?”

  “Something like that,” Charlie grumbled, and stood.

  “What’s going on?” Ben asked, and walked over to get a cup of coffee. “Where’s my beautiful bride?”

  “Upstairs with my mom,” Charlie answered.

  Ben watched Charlie inquisitively while he took a slow sip. “What the hell did I walk in on? You look like you’re pissed off, but from what Jonah tells me, you and Cupcake keep him up all night. No one who gets laid as much as you do should be in a bad mood.”

  “Would you all quit it with the cupcake shit? Her name is Lucy.” Charlie frowned and ran a hand over his face, remembering that it was no longer his job to defend her.

  Shocked, Ben snapped his head back. “Sorry, man. It sounds like you and Lucy have a lot of sex. Better?” He smirked and drank his coffee.

  “Not anymore. And I’m done telling the story. Ask Dylan. Wait.” He stopped and shook his head. “Don’t ask Dylan. Ask Jonah. He won’t ask you to talk to me like she will.”

  “Got it,” Ben said, never caring to know more. “Where’s Dylan? Is she in a better mood than you?”

  “Probably not,” Charlie said, and started to put on his shoes. “My mom’s a little pissed, too.”

  “Good,” Ben said with a load of sarcasm.

  Linda came around the corner with a sleepy Jackson in her arms. “His diaper is changed and he’s ready to go,” she said, handing him off to Charlie.

  “Thanks,” Charlie mumbled.

  Jackson put his head on Charlie’s shoulder and sighed. “Da-yee,” he whispered.

  He hadn’t been sleeping much. The night before he’d woken up in a fit, screaming for Lucy. Charlie couldn’t get him to calm down until he’d giving him the chef hat Lucy had given him. He’d clutched it in his tiny hands while Charlie rocked him back to sleep. He’d cried so hard that his little back continued to quiver even after he’d fallen asleep.

  It tore Charlie’s heart out.

  Linda hugged Ben. “Did you have a nice flight?” she asked, putting her hands on his cheeks and leaning back to look at him.

  Ben nodded and gave her a warm smile. “Nobody was sleeping on top of me this time.”

  “You didn’t have to come into town early to help with the benefit,” she said.

  Ben shrugged and grinned. “I did. My future wife needs me.”

  “And we all love you for that,” Linda said with a sigh. “She’s upstairs. Apparently, none of us are speaking.”

  Ben pursed his lips. “It looks like I’m the favorite today.” He walked out of the kitchen. “Thanks, Charlie,” he joked, and headed up the stairs to Dylan.

  Charlie turned to his mother, and said, “I have that dinner with Mike, Jonah, and the senior leaders from Marshall and Smith tomorrow night. Can you still watch him for me?”

  Linda rolled her eyes. She put one hand on her hip and the other on the counter. “I disagree with you once and all of the sudden I’m abandoning all of my grandmotherly duties? Really, Charlie? Is that what you think of me?”

  Charlie pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his tired eyes. “No.”

  “Good. I’ll see you at five,” she assured.

  “Thanks,” Charlie said, and left without saying another word.

  * * *

  The next evening, Lucy walked into her apartment and set her keys down on the ledge by the door. It had been a long day at work, with more orders for cupcakes. It was getting to the point where she had to ask Lydia to hire another person to help them keep up. Her life would be a lot easier if she could stop taking orders in the front and just concentrate on baking in the back.

  To add to the problem, the front was where she could see the door. And every time it opened, she found herself whipping her head up to look at it, just hoping it was Charlie walking through.

  It never was, of course.

  She was tired from the sleepless nights and heartbroken over losing the only man she’d ever truly loved. And she only had herself to blame.

  Thankfully, work kept her busy.

  She stepped into her bedroom and found Grace on the floor, going through a black bag. She was pulling clothing out of it, folding the garments, and putting them in piles. Lucy looked closer and realized they were her own things.

  “Where did those come from?” she asked Grace.

  It was the first time she’d uttered a single word to her in a week.

  Grace turned to face Lucy and gave her a compassionate stare. “Charlie brought this over earlier today.
He said it’s everything you left at his house.”

  That hurt in a way that actually stung her chest. Lately, she’d come to completely understand where the phrase “broken heart” came from. It wasn’t just something people said; the ones who made it up are the ones who literally felt that painful ache in their chest.

  “So,” Lucy said, raising her chin, “what are you doing with it?”

  Grace’s shoulders slumped. “I’m unpacking it all and putting it away so you won’t have to.”

  Lucy sat on the edge of her bed. She looked at her belongings spread out on the floor: the nighty she bought because it was pink and Charlie loved her in pink, jeans, shorts, shirts, camis, bras, underwear, perfume, and a toothbrush … everything that would remind him of her. He had sent it all.

  “You didn’t have to do this,” Lucy said with a sigh.

  Grace shrugged and stood up. She walked over to the bed and sat down next to Lucy.

  Feeling Grace’s eyes on her, Lucy finally crumbled and began to cry into her hands. It had been days since she’d allowed herself to cry like this. She’d done everything she could to keep herself busy, but now, seeing her belongings sitting in front of her just opened the floodgates that she’d been holding closed.

  “Honey,” Grace said with a heavy sigh.

  “I don’t want a lecture, Grace,” Lucy sobbed into her palms. “I just want to be strong and move on. I don’t want to hear ‘I told you so.’”

  Grace wrapped her arms around Lucy. “I’m not saying ‘I told you so.’ I’m just hugging you,” she said, and lay her head on Lucy’s shoulder.

  Lucy sniffled and squeezed Grace’s arm. Just like all the times before, that gentle arm was her lifeline. That perfect gesture of friendship was her warm reminder that she was never alone, even in the times when she felt as though she was.

  “How could he just toss my things out like that? Is that a garbage bag?”

  Grace chuckled. “Yes, it’s one of those giant, black garbage bags, but I think that’s more of a testosterone thing than a cruel message to you. Men don’t think like us, remember? That’s probably what he uses for his own clothes when he goes on trips.”

  Lucy laughed a little at that theory. She lifted her head and leaned it against Grace’s. “I think it’s a message. I broke his trust, his heart, and I weaseled my way into his son’s life and acted like his mother when I’m not. I’m a terrible person.”

  “You think you’re a terrible person? Stop being so hard on yourself. You love that little boy. There’s nothing wrong with that. And, no, you’re not his mother, but you’re the closest thing he’s ever had to one and that counts for something.”

  “Why are you being so nice to me?” Lucy asked. “I’ve been a lousy friend to you.”

  “Yeah,” Grace said, and laughed. She snuck a look at Lucy and frowned. “I think if there was ever an award for lack of subtlety, I would get it. I’m pretty sure I could’ve said my opinion differently.”

  Lucy giggled. “No. Subtlety is definitely not your thing, girlfriend.”

  “If it makes you feel better, he looks like shit,” Grace said, and ran a hand through Lucy’s hair. “I mean, he’s still fucking gorgeous”—she smirked at Lucy— “but he looks about as terrible as a Mathews man can look.”

  “That’s not endearing,” Lucy said, and frowned. “Did he say anything?”

  Grace shook her head. “Not really. He handed the bag over and asked if I would make sure you got it. He seemed to be struggling just being here, so I simply thanked him and let him leave.”

  Lucy pondered that for a minute. She looked at the sea of clothes on her floor and sighed.

  “You know what?” Grace said. “Why don’t you go for a run and I’ll finish with this mess. By the time you get back, it will all be gone and forgotten.”

  “You don’t have to do that,” Lucy said, shaking her head. “It’s my mess.”

  “I know that, but I want to. When you get back, we’ll drown our sorrows in wine and Ryan Gosling, okay?”

  Lucy stared at her best friend. “I love you,” she whispered, and tried to control her quivering chin.

  Grace squeezed Lucy’s hand. “I love you, too, girly.”

  * * *

  Done with the stuffy business meeting, Charlie loosened his tie and unbuttoned his shirt at the neck. Now that the deal had been made—and, yes, Mike had been right; they’d gotten the contract to start putting Marshall and Smith banks up all over the state—it was time to relax and drink.

  Time for all the professional bullshit to be put aside and for men to just be men.

  He looked out over the crowd in the bar and frowned. Even though it was more relaxed, this was the part of closing the deal that he hated. It was just a bunch of men drinking and telling crude jokes. He just wanted to go home.

  But Lucy wasn’t there waiting for him, and that thought nearly killed him with every drink.

  Jonah clinked his beer bottle against Charlie’s and gave him a faint smile. “Got the deal,” he said, snapping Charlie out of his sad thoughts.

  Charlie smiled back. “You did a good job, Jonah. You have a way with numbers and schmoozing, man. Not a lot of people know how to mix the two.”

  Jonah nodded, laughing. “It’s a gift.”

  “Don’t let it get to your head, now,” Charlie joked, and sipped his beer.

  “Hey,” Mike cut in, “Stevens’ drunk ass wants us all to go out on the patio. Apparently, he sees some women he thinks he can pick up.”

  Phillip Stevens: Marshal and Smith bigwig. He was a wealthy husband and father who also happened to be a balding, pompous dickhead. He was the one Charlie liked the least. He’d never respected a cheater, but after he lost Meredith, he’d loathed cheating husbands even more; they had what he didn’t and they threw it away just to feel important.

  Charlie looked at Jonah and rolled his eyes. “No thanks,” he said.

  Mike leaned closer to Charlie. “Kid, I know you got a bad hurt right now, but get your ass out on that patio. This is the important part, too. We’re friends with these guys and we get their money, but we can lose it just as fast as we got it.”

  Jonah smirked and stood up. “I hate it when my job forces me to drink and pick up women.”

  Charlie stood slowly and tossed some cash down on the table. He followed the group outside and sat down along the railing that separated the patio from the sidewalk. The fresh air made him feel a lot better, soothing the ache in his chest.

  Within seconds, Stevens had flagged a group of women over to their table and promised to buy them all drinks. As they dragged their chairs over, Charlie inched closer to the railing. He wanted nothing to do with this.

  “Charlie, you need a shot,” Don Seymour yelled, to which Charlie kindly refused.

  Seymour was an okay guy. Thankfully, he was above Stevens in the corporation and seemed to dislike him as much as Charlie did. That aside, Charlie still treaded carefully.

  “What’s your story, Mathews?” Stevens slurred. “You’ve turned down every shot. You’re not pussy-whipped at home, are you?”

  Charlie smirked at that. He wanted to knock him out of his chair, but he could feel Mike’s eyes on him. “Not me,” he said, and raised his beer in the air.

  “Hey,” Seymour drawled, “he doesn’t have to do a shot. Give him a break, Stevens.”

  Stevens raised his hands defensively. “I’m kidding,” he said with a chuckle. “Just a friendly joke.”

  Charlie could see Jonah tense across from him. He raised his eyebrows at his younger brother in a silent Let it go. There would be no Mathews brawls tonight. If Ben had been there, of course, it would have played out differently.

  “Is he always like this?” the brunette sitting next to Charlie whispered.

  Charlie gave a small nod and took a drink from his beer.

  “I’m Klarissa,” she said, and held out her hand.

  “Charlie,” he mumbled, and shook he
r hand.

  He met Jonah’s stare again and rolled his eyes, to which Jonah nodded back in understanding. Charlie didn’t want anything to do with this Klarissa. She didn’t look like Lucy, sound like Lucy, and her smell was all wrong.

  “If I do a shot, will you do it with me?” Klarissa asked, sneaking a peek at Charlie’s ring finger.

  He hadn’t put his ring back on. Removing it had been hard enough the first time and he refused to go through that again. Nevertheless, that empty finger seemed to encourage Klarissa.

  Without getting an answer, she reached out to the middle of the table and grabbed two tequila shots. The last time he’d done a tequila shot, a very pregnant Meredith had found him on the floor. She’d refused to speak to him for three days after that.

  “C’mon, you pansy,” Stevens garbled. “It’s one fucking shot.”

  “Jesus Christ,” Charlie said, exasperated, and took the shot from her hand.

  “Atta boy!” Seymour yelled, almost as incoherently as Stevens.

  Klarissa gave him a kittenish smile and pressed her glass to his. “Cheers,” she said seductively.

  Charlie shook his head and closed his eyes. He did the shot and slammed the glass back down on the table. He felt his face blanch as he reached for a lime and sucked hard.

  Before he could open his eyes, he felt a finger sliding down his arm, making slow circles. He opened his eyes to see Klarissa staring at him with a look that screamed sex.

  “You’re all man under that shirt,” she said in a low voice.

  Ignoring her, Charlie pulled his arm away and shook his head. He brought his bottle to his mouth and turned to look out at the sidewalk … where he locked eyes with Lucy.

  Lucy.

  Out of breath, sweaty, wearing running shorts and a tank top, she pulled out her earbuds and looked from him to Klarissa. With shock and devastation in her watery, blue eyes, she inhaled sharply, as if she had just been kicked in the stomach.

  He was positive that’s what it felt like for her.

  For him, however, everything seemed to freeze. The loud laughter and sounds of glasses clinking together … it was all gone, replaced by a ringing in his ears. He had no idea what to do.