“We don’t need to talk about that right now,” he whispered. “I know it was a lot of me to ask, and a lot for you to give. And I know it doesn’t mean anything will change.” Cameron swallowed then, stopping our dance long enough to pull back and look me in the eyes. “But I won’t waste this chance, Charlie. I won’t let you go without doing everything in my power to make you want to stay.”
He looked younger then, in that morning light. Like the man I fell in love with.
“All I’m asking is that you try, that you let me in again. Just… give me this time with your heart before you decide to give it all to him.”
The pain that had reverberated in my head all morning zipped down through my chest, and my next breath was haggard and harsh. I didn’t know what to say, didn’t know how to feel about the fact that he wanted me.
It wasn’t long ago that I would have fallen into his arms overwhelmed with joy at his proclamation. I would have sobbed, would have sighed with relief at him finally coming back to me.
But now, I only felt pain — and anger.
Because it wasn’t until he’d lost me, until I’d found comfort in Reese’s arms that Cameron had noticed me again.
Cameron pulled me back into him, resting his chin on my head as we swayed, my left hand in his right, my ear to his chest. I closed my eyes, listening to his heart beat, and the longer the song played, the more I felt him. My breaths came a little lighter, the pain in my chest receding, and I sighed.
I still loved him.
I knew that last night. I knew it all weekend, even when I was with Reese, even when I knew I would leave Cameron I also knew I still loved him. I wasn’t sure that would ever change, no matter what happened next.
He was the father of my children, the stealer of my heart, the comforter of my soul. He was my family. He was my home.
I just didn’t know if that was enough.
As the song ended, Cameron hugged me tight to him, and I blinked away the tears threatening to fall.
“I need to get ready,” I said after a moment, my voice low.
It must have killed him, to hear those words when I was in his arms, to know I would get dressed and go to another man. But Cameron just nodded, kissing my forehead before letting me go.
“Okay. Can I make you something for breakfast?”
I shook my head. “The tea is fine.”
Cameron’s gaze swept over our nightstand.
“I promise I’ll drink it,” I added, hoping to ease at least that part of his worry. “And I’ll eat at lunch. I just need to let my stomach stabilize a little.”
He forced a smile, but it fell quickly, and he straightened his tie with a look of resignation. “Okay. I’ll see you tonight?”
I forced a smile back. “Mm-hmm.”
“Okay.” He nodded, hands sliding in the pockets of his slacks. He looked around like he didn’t know what to do next before leaning in for a kiss.
My lips met his briefly, just a peck, and then I skirted behind him to our closet.
A few minutes later, I heard the front door close.
I ripped the first blouse I saw from the hanger, throwing it on haphazardly before pairing it with a simple navy skirt. My hair was back in a bun in the next breath, and I didn’t even check the mirror to assess my tired eyes. I knew they were puffy and underlined with deep purple skin, but it didn’t matter.
I needed to get to Reese.
As tough as the night had been for me, I knew it must have been torturous for him. He had no idea what happened when I got home, no idea what I was thinking, or feeling, or what would happen next.
He would be angry when he found out, that much I knew. He’d be hurt. I’d promised Cameron a chance. I’d given him my word that, at least for the next two months, I’d stay.
And where did that leave Reese?
That was the question he’d have for me, and I only had the ten-minute drive to school to figure out the answer.
***
Reese
Blake sat at my kitchen bar, one foot propped under her on the stool while the other hung below her. Her bright blonde hair was piled in a messy bun on top of her head, a few strands hanging down to frame her face. That same hair had been sprawled over my chest when we woke that morning, and all I could think when my eyes opened and I saw it there was that it was the wrong color.
She shoved another bite of cereal in her mouth, her eyes on the fort in the living room.
“Do you mind if I clean that up today?” she asked, nodding to where the sheets hung from the fort Charlie and I had built. “I’ll wash all those sheets and get this place looking somewhat decent. I figured you hadn’t hung a single thing on the wall,” she added with a chuckle. “I’ll spend the day making a plan and I can start shopping tomorrow, start making this place feel more like a home.”
“That’s fine,” I answered, though my fists curled at the thought of her touching the fort. Still, I knew she needed something to do, something to fix. That was who she was. And I was one of her favorite projects.
“Great. I was thinking plum, white, and gray for the bedroom. Just a dash of plum, though. Nothing too dark. And for the living room, I’ll get some throw pillows to brighten up that dark couch. What do you think of mint?”
She kept talking, but I couldn’t register a single word. I just nodded along, giving her permission she wasn’t really even asking for. I needed a cigarette like I needed blood in my veins, but I’d promised Charlie I’d try to quit. That was when she was still in my home, in our fort, in my arms.
Now, she was gone, and Blake was in her place.
I still couldn’t believe she was here, in Pennsylvania, in the house I’d had Charlie in just hours before Blake had shown up on my front porch.
She was New York. She was bright city lights and lonely broken nights. She was a chapter I’d already read, one I’d turned the page on when I left the city. It didn’t feel right that she was here, in a place she never existed to me.
But I couldn’t be mad she’d shown up. Not really.
Because we’d never technically ended our relationship when I left.
I met Blake a couple of years before my family died. I was piss ass drunk at a dive bar on the lower east side, causing trouble with one of my buddies from Juilliard.
It was a normal night for me — play piano at the restaurant all night for rich people who didn’t hear me anyway, meet up with Ben at his place, hammer down some whiskey and stumble into the first bar we found. Crashing karaoke bars was our favorite, because we could make fun of other drunk assholes and feel a little better about the fact that we were thirty years old and still partying like we were twenty-one.
Neither of us were in a relationship, neither of us had kids, and neither of us had plans. We were the perfect pair.
But on that particular Friday night, Blake had stumbled into the same bar with a group of her girlfriends. She’d gone on stage solo and sang the most beautiful version of Fleetwood Mac’s Dreams I’d ever heard in my life, and I’d declared on a stomach full of whiskey that I’d marry her one day.
We went on our first date a week later.
Blake had never really been my girlfriend. She was more of a friend who liked to get naked as much as I did. We’d meet up every now and then, sometimes going months between seeing each other, and every time we got together, we lost ourselves in each other. There were long nights spent in my apartment, smoking cigarettes and making out between stories. She’d always be gone the next morning before I woke up, and I never really knew when I’d see her again. I just knew that I would.
But when my family died, everything changed.
Blake had been there for me. She was the only one. She’d helped me with everything — the funeral, the will, the reporters, my bills, my job. There was so much to do, to handle, and I could barely get out of bed in the morning. In fact, on most days, I didn’t. But Blake was there, handling all of it. She’d even tried to save me from myself when I was blowing throu
gh my inheritance, begging me for a small portion of it to invest.
That was all that was left of it now.
She hadn’t just been there to handle the paperwork, either. She’d been there on the long, torturous nights where I’d break down into tears and drink myself stupid trying to mourn my loss. It was in that time that I realized those nights we’d slept together, the nights she’d shared my bed, we’d also shared a deeper part of ourselves.
She loved me. She loved me enough to be there for me in one of the darkest times of my life. And in that time, I realized I loved her, too.
Blake moved in with me a few weeks after my family passed just to make sure I wouldn’t hurt myself. She took care of me like a mother, like a sister, like a friend, and like a wife.
So, I made her my girlfriend.
But when it came to moving, I hadn’t thought twice about her. It was shitty, and I hated to admit it out loud. But that was just the way we were. She had never told me she loved me, and I never told her. She was there when I needed her, and I was there when she needed me. But she was busy with her own life just as I was with mine, and though we lived together, it was almost more as roommates than anything.
Sure, we had the title, but it didn’t feel like anything had changed between us. We were still the same boy and girl who slept together and didn’t talk for months at a time, except now we still shared a bed.
So, when I left, I didn’t even consider the fact that she might want more.
I just thought that was where it ended. We had a few conversations about keeping in touch, about seeing each other when I came back into town, but we never said we would stay together. We never said we would do the long-distance thing, or that she would move, or I would come back.
Then again, we never said we were done, either.
And so, I couldn’t really be mad that she’s surprised me, probably thinking it’d make me happy to see her. And in a way, I was. Blake was perhaps my only true friend I had anymore.
But I had no idea how to explain her to Charlie, or vice versa.
And I had no idea what her being here meant.
“I need to get going,” I said after she’d run off a list of all the things she wanted to accomplish that day. I dumped what was left of my coffee in the sink and swiped my coat off the counter. “I’ll leave the spare house keys hanging on the hook by the door, and just text me if you need anything.”
“Okay,” she said with a bright smile. “I’ll make dinner tonight, too. What time do you think you’ll be home?”
“Not sure.” My mind shot to Charlie. “But I’ll let you know.”
Blake smiled, hopping off the barstool and skipping around the kitchen island until she was in my arms. I had no choice but to catch her, to pull her into me, and when she leaned up to press a kiss to my lips, I kissed her back.
And I felt like absolute scum.
By the time I made it to school, it was only ten minutes before the first bell. It was the latest I’d been since I started, and I knew without a second guess that it was too late to talk to Charlie before the day began.
Still, I bolted to her classroom, and when I saw her standing at her whiteboard with her teacher’s aide, I didn’t know whether to sigh with relief or crumble from the pain. Her eyes flicked to mine as she ran over the day’s plan with Robin, and they didn’t give anything away before they were gone again. I watched her intently, waiting, watching the clock behind her, knowing there wasn’t time to hear all I hoped to.
When Robin nodded and began distributing workbooks to each table, Charlie walked slowly and calmly over to where I stood in her doorway.
“Mr. Walker,” she said, loud enough for Robin to hear. “Good morning. How are you?”
“Very well,” I answered automatically. “Wanted to come check on you after last night. Feeling okay?”
“Yes, I’m okay. Thank you for asking. It was a wonderful spring concert, by the way. I’m sure Mr. Henderson is very proud of all your hard work.”
I forced a smile, but my stomach turned as I searched her face for a sign of something — anything — to let me know how she was truly feeling.
I found nothing.
“I was wondering if you have plans for lunch. I wanted to go over the concert with you, talk about ways to improve for next semester.”
“Oh,” Charlie said, and she glanced briefly over her shoulder at Robin, who seemed oblivious to our conversation, anyway. “Sure. I’ll see you in the café then?”
“Perfect.”
I stood rooted to that spot, my hands in my pockets wrapped into tight fists to keep from reaching for her. I wanted to kiss her so badly I felt the pain of it like a thorn in my heart. Her hair was in a bun at the nape of her neck, her eyes tired and dark, her expression weary. I wanted to pull her into me, to play her any song she wanted to hear and then make love to her in our fort.
In our fort that Blake was currently taking down.
My stomach rolled again. I knew I had to tell Charlie about Blake, and I felt that Charlie had something to tell me, too. I had no idea what happened after she fainted at the concert last night. Did they fight? Did she tell him she was leaving? Did he make her cry?
I searched her eyes with my own, begging her to give me some kind of sign.
And then, slowly, purposefully — she smiled.
It was just a small smile, but it was a real one, one that told me we would talk later. I didn’t know what that conversation would hold, but that smile gave me hope — it gave me something to hold onto.
I sighed with the relief it brought, offering her a smile of my own.
She was still mine. She was still with me. There was hope.
“Have a good morning, Mr. Walker,” she said, and her eyes softened, her own hand twitching forward for me before she clasped it over her opposite wrist, instead.
“You too, Mrs.… Pierce.” I swallowed, lips flattening. “See you at lunch.”
When I was clear of her, I took a full breath, letting it out like a frustrated bull.
Four hours. I had to wait four hours to talk to her.
I watched the clock all morning.
***
Charlie was late to lunch.
I’d already piled up a plate with a hot sandwich that was rapidly turning cold as I sat at the table in the far back corner of the teachers’ café, waiting for Charlie to show. I checked my phone for a text from her, but there was nothing.
There were several texts from Blake about the house, and dinner, and movie options for after dinner. But I couldn’t think about her — not yet, not before I talked to Charlie.
She finally rushed in twenty minutes after I’d already been there, and I threw my hand up to wave her back. She blew out a sigh, shoving her phone into her pocket like she’d just ended a call.
“Sorry,” she said on a breath as she slid her bag into one of the empty chairs at the table I’d claimed.
I waited for her to tell me who was on the phone, but she didn’t offer anything past the apology.
“It’s okay,” I said, but my eyes drifted to her pocket, wondering if it was Cameron who had called. “Grab a plate and we can talk?” I suggested.
She looked at the bar of food like eating was the last thing she wanted to do, but she nodded. “Yeah, I should probably try to eat. Let me just grab a bowl of soup.”
I couldn’t take my eyes off her as she moved through the line of teachers, and I kept them there as she took the seat across from me, the steam from her soup drifting up to her nose.
“Hi,” she said once she seated.
“Hi.”
She smiled.
I smiled.
Then, her brows bent together, her hand sliding up to rest flat on the table.
“I missed you last night,” she whispered.
I laughed, blowing out a breath. “To say I missed you, too, would be the understatement of the century.” I shifted. “What happened, Charlie?”
Her face broke a little more, a
nd she glanced around us. There were only a few other teachers still in the café, most had already eaten and made their way back to their classrooms.
“I don’t know,” she said with a sigh, running a hand up to smooth over her hair. “We talked. He took care of me after I fainted.”
“I would have, too.”
“I know,” she said. “That’s not what I meant. I just mean he took me home, made me some tea. And we talked.” She swallowed. “I told him I wanted a divorce.”
My heart stopped, kicking to life again with a newfound hope. It was unbelievable, that she’d told him about us, that she’d told him she was done. So much so that I questioned if I’d imagined hearing her say it, at all.
But there she was, sitting across from me, telling me she would leave her husband and be with me.
It was real. She wanted me.
Charlie Reid was finally mine.
My hand slid up onto the table to mirror hers, and I pushed it forward. There were still at least twelve inches between our fingertips, but I felt the charge between them like we were holding hands. I wished so desperately to pull her into me, to kiss her, to tell her she was making the right decision.
That I would love her better.
“What did he say?” I asked once my heart had settled.
Charlie looked down at her soup.
“He asked me for two months.”
And just like that, all the hope drained.
Those words hung between us like smoke, and my gaze dropped to Charlie’s soup, too. I couldn’t look at her when I asked the next question.
“What does that mean?”
Where does that leave me?
Charlie’s eyes stayed on the soup.
“He said you’d been back in my life for two months,” she said. “He said he wanted the same amount of time to show me I should stay.”
“Bullshit.”
Charlie reddened. “Reese…”
“No, it’s bullshit. He’s had years, Charlie. Years.” I shook my head.
Best Kept Secrets: The Complete Series Page 26
