Sweet Talk Boxed Set (Ten NEW Contemporary Romances by Bestselling Authors to Benefit Diabetes Research plus BONUS Novel)

by Novak, Brenda

  “Nina, you’ve seen her. She hasn’t even known I’ve been here for the past week!” Charlie began to pace, a few steps to the right, a few steps to the left, suddenly anxious to be out of this room.

  “Go back to Africa,” Nina said softly.

  Startled, Charlie stopped. “I can’t leave her.” She wouldn’t think to do such a thing. Maybe later, if it seemed like Diane wasn’t getting any better, but not right now. There was still hope.

  “I’m here,” Nina argued. “She won’t be alone.”

  “It’s not the same.” No, she didn’t like the idea and wouldn’t even talk about it anymore. “I’m going to go for my run; call me if she wakes up. I can come back and sit with her.” She went to leave but Nina reached out.

  “Charlie, eventually you need to get back to your own life. Marcus is waiting for you. Your sister wouldn’t want you to give it all up for her. Not like this. You know that.”

  Charlie swallowed and wanted to disagree, but when Nina lowered her hand, she walked out of the room instead.

  Ever since returning, she’d found it hard to make herself at home in her sister’s empty house, even though she knew she needed to. Every day was the same: Wake up, tidy up after herself, go for a run, shower, and then head to Swedish Medical, picking up coffee and fresh pastries along the way. Regardless of whether her sister knew she was there or not, Charlie knew. She’d spend the day, return home, make something light to eat, go for another run, and then attempt to relax.

  Attempt being the operative word.

  Curled up on the couch with a blanket across her legs, Charlie opened the e-mail Marcus had sent on her laptop.

  Charlie girl,

  I miss you like crazy. It’s not the same here without you, and I made a decision. Whether you like it or not, I’m coming to Seattle. Don’t bother trying to change my mind, because it’s already made up—you’re not the only stubborn one you know.

  I’m not sure why you’re pushing me away, but I won’t let it continue. I love you, Charlotte Hunter, and whatever you’re hiding from me won’t change that.

  Call me tonight. I’ll be waiting.

  Love you. Marcus.

  As she read his e-mail, her heart skipped a few beats, then decided to do a dance. He was coming whether she wanted him to or not, and she wanted him to, but she was scared.

  How would he feel knowing she’d lied to him about her past? Would he feel betrayed? Would he understand? How could she explain to him why she’d never fully told him the truth. He knew about Mags and her father leaving them, but whenever it came to her mother, she just said she died from complications during childbirth. Marcus had never questioned her, and why would he? But now, after seeing Diane, would he understand? Would he be able to accept that the future they’d once dreamed about, discussed and planned for, couldn’t happen?

  She loved him. She would never not love him. But she could never have children, not naturally, anyway. Not after seeing Diane, being here with her as she held a doll she thought was her baby. Their mother committed suicide after killing their baby brother. Her sister lived in a fantasy world her mind had created to keep her from living in reality. What would happen to Charlie?

  She never wanted to find out.

  Her phone buzzed on the table beside her.

  I’m waiting. . . .

  She had two options: open up Skype and talk to Marcus, or ignore him once again . . . but no matter what she did, she knew he would be coming to Seattle.

  “Good morning, beautiful,” Marcus’s voice whispered love, tenderness, and heartache through the computer. “I’ve missed you.”

  Charlie melted. “Good morning.” She stared at him, memorizing his face, noticing the bags beneath his eyes. “You look tired. Are you not sleeping?”

  “Well, it is four in the morning.” He chuckled.

  “I realize that. But normally at this time you’re jumping out of bed, ready to meet the day. What’s wrong?”

  “I miss you.” There was a hesitation to his smile, and it worried her.

  “Are you sure that’s all?” she prodded.

  “I’ve got good news.”

  Charlie held her breath. What could he say that was possibly better than that he was flying here to her? Was he leaving shortly? Within hours maybe?

  When she heard the small cry of a newborn in the background, tears welled up and she knew. There was only one mother close enough to her due date to give birth.

  “So that’s why you’re tired. Did you get any sleep?”

  He shook his head. “Amara’s little guy couldn’t make up his mind whether he wanted to come out or not.” Marcus yawned.

  “How is he? How is Amara?” Her voice choked up, and the harsh reality of her decision to leave the village she’d grown to love hit her hard for the first time. She was supposed to have been there for Amara. She’d made a promise and she’d broken it. The reasons didn’t matter. She hadn’t even gone to say goodbye.

  “He’s lanky and long limbed, and despite being so early, I think he’ll make it just fine. I’ll keep them both here in the clinic for a little while longer.”

  “You won’t be coming then.” Despite her earlier fears of what would happen once he arrived, she was looking forward to seeing him. She missed him—missed his touch, his laughter, the way his eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled. “That’s okay.” She swallowed hard and forced herself to smile, to pretend to be happy for him. “Send me pictures so I can see him. Tell Amara I’m sorry I wasn’t there, like I’d promised.”

  “Oh, I’m coming.” Everything about him, from his facial features to the way he sat up in the chair, told her he was serious. “Head office has already sent out a new team to replace us, and they should arrive before nightfall. I’ve got a flight booked first thing tomorrow morning, so if you’re trying to think of an excuse for me not to come, forget it. You’re too late.”

  She shook her head. “No. I’m glad. I want you here. I . . . I need you here.” She’d been trying so hard not to need him, to show him she was okay, but she couldn’t keep it up anymore.

  “Finally.” His relief was evident. “You have no idea how worried I’ve been.”

  “Come to me, Marcus.”

  She missed him. Missed the feel of his arms around her. Missed having his shoulder to lay her head on, the strength of his heart to help her get through everything. She wasn’t sure how she could keep doing it without him—being there for Diane, helping her heal. It was tearing Charlie up inside, and she felt as if she were only half alive.

  “I am. Trust me, I am. How was Diane today?”

  Charlie shook her head, the words not coming. On her run earlier all she’d done was cry. “She’s getting worse, Marcus, and I don’t know what to do anymore.” That much, at least, was the truth. She wanted to talk to Nina and Dr. Dube and tell them that she wanted the shock therapy treatments to stop, but maybe she would wait for Marcus to weigh in.

  “Give it time,” Marcus said gently.

  Charlie sighed. “It’s one thing to say that as a doctor, but it’s another to hear it as a family member.”

  “I know. I’m sorry.” He sighed in frustration. “There’re a few friends I can talk to when I get in—friends in the field who might be able to help, offer a second opinion, if you’d like?” This wasn’t the first time he’d offered this, but she always turned down the help. Soon he’d understand why.

  “Dr. Dube is the best.”

  “You still feel that way, even with the lack of progress.”

  She thought about that for a moment.

  “What aren’t you telling me, Charlie?” Marcus leaned forward and stared hard at her through the video screen.

  She looked away, but only for a brief moment.

  “I’m glad you’re coming.” She tightened her lips, refusing to say more.

  He must have gotten the picture, because he nodded, a similar look on his face. He leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest.

 
“When I arrive we’re having a long talk, and you need to be prepared to come clean.”

  “I will.” She wasn’t going to deny anything anymore. He obviously saw right through her.

  “I’ll send you a text with my flight information when I wake up”—he yawned again—“but for now, remember I love you. Okay?”

  “I love you too.” She blew him a kiss before closing the connection.

  She’d thought that maybe after talking to him she’d feel better, more at ease, but she didn’t. She wouldn’t until he knew everything. She wouldn’t be upset when he walked away; she couldn’t be. One thing Charlie had learned from an early age was never to set yourself up for disappointment. You always had to place a guard around your heart, because you could never trust anyone who said they would always love you, would always be there for you. Look at her own father and mother. The only person who ever truly stood by Charlie’s side was her sister. And now it was Charlie’s turn to be there for Diane. If Marcus decided her lack of honesty was too much, if he couldn’t get past her fears and understand that their future had to change, she wouldn’t get upset.

  It didn’t mean it hurt less that their lives together might end so abruptly, but it was okay. It had to be.

  She stared up at the ceiling and blinked, and for the umpteenth time since arriving in Seattle, she cried.

  This wasn’t the life she thought she’d be living. She should be planning her wedding right now, dreaming of her dress and walking on the sand, hand in hand with her husband. But instead she was preparing her heart to be alone again.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Just as she was about to walk out the door to go see Diane, Nina called.

  “Don’t rush to come in today; we had to sedate Diane and she’s sleeping.”

  “What was wrong?”

  “Can you look to see whether there’s a pink dress with white flowers in the baby room? She couldn’t find it, tried to call Brian and then panicked. I couldn’t get her to calm down.”

  “She tried to call Brian? How?” There was no phone in Diane’s room; nor would she have access to a phone in the common rooms unless Nina was there with her.

  “She was still in her room, Charlie.” The weariness in Nina’s voice was really noticeable today.

  “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine. But can you look? I’d like to have it here when she wakes up, just in case.”

  Charlie headed up the stairs and into the most beautiful baby’s room she’d ever seen. A lot of love and care had been put into this room. The air was a little stale, so Charlie opened up the window before she opened the closet doors.

  “There’re a lot of dresses here, Nina. About half of them are pink with flowers.”

  “Really?”

  Charlie smiled at the frustration in Nina’s voice. She could picture her standing there, hand on hip, head tilted back while she rolled her eyes.

  “Want me to just pick one? Or two?”

  “It’s one that Brian picked out—not sure if that helps or not.”

  “No. This is the second time I’m seeing these items— Oh, wait. Shortly before I left last time I found Diane in here going through the clothes, and she pointed out a dress from Brian...” Charlie turned in a circle and spied a beautiful satiny dress hanging on a hook beside the changing table.

  “I think I found it.” She could see why it was so special to Diane and why Brian would buy it. It was gorgeous. Wasn’t there a blanket and little slippers that went with it as well?

  “Give it a few hours and then pop by. She probably won’t be awake before lunch, but I’d like to have it here before that, if you can.”

  “Sure can. See you then.” Charlie hung up the phone before beginning her hunt for the other items. They had to be here somewhere. She remembered Diane wanting to pack up a few things into a special memory box, but she couldn’t see the box anywhere.

  After searching Diane’s room and feeling somewhat guilty for the intrusion, even though she knew it was silly, she decided to look in the basement as a last resort. She doubted Diane would put it down there, but then, when it came to her sister lately, she wasn’t sure of much. And if it meant helping her right now, then she’d do what she could to find anything Diane needed.

  One look at the basement and Charlie knew this had been Brian’s domain. She should come down here more often; the feel of the place was relaxing and warm, with rich colors and leather furniture. Marcus would like this space, and she could see them relaxing down here watching movies rather than upstairs in the loft that Diane had decorated.

  All their boxes were in a little room off to the side, and for a moment, after she opened the door, Charlie felt a little overwhelmed. Fortunately everything was labeled.

  A quick perusal didn’t show the box she’d remembered, and even after opening some and looking inside, she couldn’t find it. She was about to leave, check upstairs again, maybe Diane’s office, when something caught her eye.

  She wrinkled her nose in disgust at the musty smell of a box she pulled down from the top shelf. She already knew what was inside this one—the box was identical to one she’d had, one that was locked away in her storage locker. She kept it only because she felt too guilty destroying it.

  Diane’s Journals/Childhood Items.

  Shortly after moving in with Aunt Mags, she’d taken both Charlie and Diane to see a counsellor. Diane hardly spoke; in fact, the only time she would speak was if she was speaking on Charlie’s behalf. Charlie herself had stopped talking for roughly six months.

  The weight of being the one to find their mother and younger brother dead...it had been too much for Charlie’s young mind.

  She hated thinking about that time. She’d worked so hard to forget about it, to lock it away in a tiny box within her mind. But she knew she couldn’t keep it locked away forever. She had to tell Marcus, explain to him. . . She sighed. What she needed to do was probably show him.

  Maybe it was time to take her own box out of storage, to face the demons she’d tried hard to ignore and find some way to live life knowing her deepest fears had come true.

  The first step would be to look in Diane’s box.

  The item on top when she opened the box was an old pink sweater her mom used to wear around the house. Whenever she pictured her mother, she wore this cardigan. Charlie brought the sweater up to her face, knowing even as she did so that any lingering smell of her mother would have disappeared, but . . . she blinked rapidly to stop tears from pooling in her eyes. For a person who hated to cry, she sure was doing it an awful lot.

  There were other things inside the box, hidden beneath this sweater: Diane’s journals, the pipe their father used to keep on a shelf in their living room, and the baby blanket discarded beneath Christopher’s crib the day he’d died. All memories for a past she always thought best to leave buried. All things she never would have thought to keep.

  Charlie picked up the soft baby-blue blanket that their mother used to wrap Christopher in. She didn’t remember much of him, but she did recall him crying a lot. Their mom used to bundle him up tight in the blanket and rock him to sleep. In fact, Charlie could still hear the creak of the rocking chair if she listened hard enough.

  What would their life have been like if their alcoholic father had stayed and not dropped them off at Aunt Mags’s with their suitcases full? Would he have stopped drinking? Charlie always used to wonder. He never even said goodbye to them; it was almost as if the sight of them were too much for him to bear. She knew they looked like their mother now, but even then had they?

  Was leaving them with Mags his way of loving them? Why had he never come back?

  She knew Diane had once tried to look for him and asked Charlie to help her in the search, but she’d refused. She didn’t need in her life a man who discarded them so easily.

  If this was all she knew about love, then no wonder she was so messed up and always ran away from anything resembling commitment. Except for Marcus. He was the one thing, t
he one person she’d never run from.

  She remembered Diane once asking her what made Marcus so special, and at the time Charlie hadn’t known how to answer, but she did now.

  He never asked anything of her, just accepted her for who she was and loved her even knowing she held a little bit of her heart back. He’d even mentioned it before she returned to Seattle—the difference in her, how much more open she was.

  She wasn’t as open now. Would he notice? Would he care? Would he understand? She wasn’t so sure.

  Wrapped inside the baby blanket were Diane’s journals. She wasn’t going to read them. They’d made a promise to each other never to do so. There were so many painful memories locked inside those journals. She might not have spoken for six months, but it didn’t mean she’d kept all her feelings buried inside her.

  Her journals were full of pictures. She used to draw images of her mom and brother: him sleeping in his crib, her mom rocking him to sleep in the chair, or playing on the floor with him. She’d wanted desperately to keep them alive, until there came a time when she couldn’t see any more images of them to draw. That was when she’d stopped. When she’d woken up screaming one night and finally spoken shortly after her seventh birthday.

  Aunt Mags had been the one to hold her, to soothe her tears. Her first words after finding her mother dead had been, I miss her. I miss my mom.

  The flood of memories from that time poured over Charlie, and she wasn’t sure how to carry the heavy weight. Those were years she wanted to forget, years she never wanted to dwell on. She loved Mags—loved that she never gave up on them, welcomed two little girls into her home without a second thought . . . but Mags could never erase the memory of seeing her mother dead.

  Never.

  The memory was as vibrant today as it had been all those years ago: the eerie silence in the house as they walked in from school, the heaviness to the air, as if something had changed. Diane used to tell her she made those feelings up, but Charlie knew she hadn’t. She’d raced into Christopher’s room to see him, something she did every day. They’d received trees that day from school to plant at home, and while Diane had run to the kitchen to put hers in a cup, Charlie had run to her brother’s room to see him and show him the tree. Normally when they came home from school, Christopher would always be crying, their mother either rocking him in the chair or walking around the house, him in her arms. The moment he’d see Charlie he’d stop, every single time.