by Noelle Adams
It was Simon.
He’d obviously taken a shower too and had shaved. He wore a suit and looked as buttoned-up and stoic as always. His eyes darted up and down her body quickly before they returned to her face.
“What do you want?” she asked.
“I wanted to talk to you.”
“I told you I wanted to rest.”
“I gave you almost an hour to rest. Now we’re going to talk.” He’d reined in whatever emotions he’d been feeling earlier. He was completely in control, his tone purposefully quiet.
She narrowed her eyes and thought about putting up an argument, but it didn’t seem worth the trouble.
Simon was just as stubborn as she was. And it would be really stupid for her to keep arguing with him when what she really wanted to do was get him into bed.
With a sigh, she stepped aside and let him into her room.
The room was small—like most rooms at historic hotels of that age—and the only places to sit were one straight-backed chair and the bed. After assessing the situation, he sat down on the edge of the mattress.
She sat down next to him, pulling her robe closed more fully when she saw his eyes slip down again to her neckline.
“I’m sorry,” he said at last.
There was a riot of emotions in her chest, too much for her to work out. “What are you sorry for?” she asked carefully.
“For... hurting your feelings.”
“Do you even know why you hurt my feelings?”
His lips parted slightly, and then he shook his head. “No. I really don’t. But I know I did, and I’m sorry for it. I never want to hurt you, Charlie.”
“I know you don’t.”
“Your parents should have picked anyone but me to look out for you. I’m... I’m the worst person in the world to do it.”
“My parents wanted you to take care of my money. Not take care of me. If I’d needed an actual guardian, Simon, they never would have chosen you.”
That had been clear to her from the very beginning. Her parents had loved her, and they hadn’t been fools. Simon was good with handling finances. He would have been a terrible guardian for a child.
“And you really think my only responsibility is to your money?” His eyes were holding hers in almost a challenge.
“Yes. That’s what I think. You don’t owe me anything else. You’re not obliged to me in any way.”
“It feels like I am.”
She was breathing heavily, and she could hear that he was too. She had no idea what to say—if he was trying to give her some sort of message or if he was just stumbling around trying to find the right thing to say to her.
She had no idea about anything anymore.
“I don’t want you to feel obliged to me. I don’t want you to call me up or do things for me or spend time with me because you feel obligated to—just because of my parents’ will.”
“Does that mean you want me to... back off?”
“No.” She cleared her throat. “It means I only want you to do things that you... you want to do.”
“That’s not how it works between us,” he said.
She frowned. “Maybe not in the past. But why can’t it work that way now. I’m not a child. And you’re not my trustee or guardian or anything anymore. Don’t do what you think you’re supposed to do. Just do what... what you want.”
She couldn’t believe she was brave enough to say that. It wasn’t direct, but it was closer to the truth than anything else she’d ever said to him.
He stared at her with those deep, dark, unreadable eyes for a long time. Then he rasped, “We can’t always do what we want, Charlie.”
“Why not?”
“Because sometimes what we want is wrong.”
She lost her breath, her vision blurring slightly by her surprise at his last gravelly admission. Was he trying to tell her that what she desperately wanted was wrong?
He didn’t give her time to figure it out or respond. He stood up and walked to the door. “The first thing starts at three. I’ll let you get dressed.”
She stared at him as he stepped into the hallway and closed the door behind him.
She thought for a long time but wasn’t any closer to figuring him out than she’d been at the beginning.
Three
Charlie went down to tea on her own.
Simon’s event with the groom for the men was just across the hall from hers, so it would have made sense for them to go down together.
She didn’t want to walk down with him though.
She felt depressed, and if she’d been in any other situation, she would have hibernated for the rest of the day.
She couldn’t however. The wedding weekend was just beginning, and the only way she could get out of it now was to feign illness. That would be weak and cowardly, so she was going to get through this.
Her life didn’t revolve around Simon Shae. She had worthwhile work to do and amazing friends, and she was going to enjoy this wedding.
With or without him.
She’d changed into a cute, little red dress with a thin cashmere cardigan sweater, and she felt pretty and stylish as she stepped off the elevator. The first thing she saw was Hannah and Madison, waiting for her.
They were both grinning, so she hugged them, and they walked down the hall and into the small event room—beautifully designed with a crystal chandelier and mahogany bar, where women were gathering for the tea party.
The next half hour was chaotic—as Charlie greeted and caught up with about two dozen women she’d known from school. About half of them she didn’t really even like—they were selfish and spoiled and acted like they were the center of the universe—but they were all old “friends” from the expensive prep school she’d attended, and she had to summon her energy and her social skills to interact with them effectively.
Fortunately, Hannah and Madison stayed with her the whole time. It was easier to keep on top of snarky, belittling comments when you had your best friends to combat them with you.
For an hour, they ran the gauntlet of cattiness and social competition until finally Charlie was ready to take a break. She filled her plate with extra strawberries and petit fours, got a fresh glass of champagne, and found a corner table away from the bride and most of the other women.
Hannah and Madison joined her shortly.
“Are you okay?” Hannah asked, studying Charlie with concern.
“Of course! I’m just out of practice with all that.” Charlie waved in the general direction of the other women. “And I’m exhausted.”
“Me too,” Madison admitted, taking the last swallow from her teacup and then signaling for a server to come over with the tray of champagne flutes. “It’s been so long since I’ve been part of that world that I forgot what school was like. I like my life now a lot better.”
“Me too,” Charlie said. “You know, some of them get together almost every week for lunch and gossip. Can you imagine?” She wasn’t entirely surprised that some women her age weren’t ready to give up the dynamics of their school years, but she couldn’t imagine craving the backbiting and outmaneuvering. Life was hard enough already—just dealing with the pressures and disappointments of living in this world. Why would someone seek out more drama?
Hannah was still giving her a sharp look. “But what’s really the matter, Charlie?”
“Nothing.” She’d widened her eyes in the hopes of brushing off the question, but it was hopeless to try to hide something from her friends. After a moment, she sighed. “I’ve run into a few roadblocks with Simon.”
“What happened?”
“He believes it would be indecent to be with me.”
“He told you that?” Madison asked, her eyebrows very high. “Straight out?”
“Straight out.”
“Had you... had you made a move on him?” Hannah asked.
Charlie chuckled, just slightly bitter. “No. Nothing quite so humiliating. He was worried about people thinking we we
re a couple, since we came together. And so that led to how completely inappropriate it would be for him ever to be with me.” She shook her head. “I’m trying not to give up, but it feels kind of hopeless right now. He just... He recoils from me.”
They were silent for a moment as they thoughtfully munched on their sweets.
“Maybe that’s a good sign,” Hannah said at last.
“How exactly could it be good?”
“Well, he recoils like that because he has to be strict with himself. If he wasn’t tempted, he wouldn’t need to react so dramatically. Right?”
Charlie couldn’t help but feel a little flicker of hope. “You think so?”
“Did he act like he might have been tempted?” Hannah asked.
Charlie made a face. “He acted like I was radioactive and his only choice was to flee.”
With a sly grin, Hannah said, “There. See? He’s definitely tempted.”
Madison shook her head with a half smile. “I hate to encourage flights of fancy, but there might be something to that. Usually, if a guy isn’t making a move, I’d say he’s hopeless and just move on. But Simon has some real reason to be uncomfortable with this. He was a friend of your dad’s. He knew you when you were a teenager. He was appointed your trustee. He’d naturally feel awkward and kind of guilty, and those are perfectly legitimate reasons why he’d want to hold back. I say don’t give up yet.”
Charlie nodded, her cheeks flushing warmly as she felt a renewed sense of excitement and hope. Her friends might be right. Maybe it wasn’t completely hopeless.
Maybe Simon was just acting like she was radioactive because he wanted her so much and didn’t think he was allowed to.
He’d said before he left her room earlier that sometimes what people wanted was wrong.
She’d thought he was talking about her, but maybe he’d been talking about himself.
It wasn’t a sure thing, but it was possible.
It was at least a glimmer of hope.
“Okay,” she said at last. “I’m not giving up.” After a pause, she added, “Anyway, I’m not the only one who has a mission here this weekend. How are things going with both of you?”
She focused on the progress that Hannah and Madison were making with their dates, and she felt a lot more like herself.
AFTER ANOTHER HALF hour, the tea party seemed to be breaking up, and Charlie was ready to escape from the pretty little room filled with stylish, well-coifed women. She was about to suggest that she, Hannah, and Madison make a move to leave when Polly, the beautiful redheaded bride, came over with a huge smile to where they were sitting.
Charlie sighed in resignation at being trapped this way.
Polly had been her biggest competition all through school. Like Charlie, she was outgoing, redhaired, and interested in the social sciences, so they’d often been up for the same guys or awards or opportunities. They were pretty well matched, so neither one of them always won or lost.
Charlie liked Polly as well as she liked any of her former schoolmates except Hannah and Madison, but it always felt like a chore talking to her.
Polly’s smile was gloating, and Charlie wasn’t surprised.
Polly had snared a great guy—young, handsome, and moving up in the political world.
While Charlie couldn’t even get the man she wanted to stay in the same room as her.
“So tell me about your date, Charlie,” Polly said after a few minutes of gushing over the wedding. “Quite the dark horse, I’d say.”
Charlie sighed and tried to answer politely without giving out any real information. She had to spend ten minutes avoiding Polly’s nosy interrogation, but finally escaped by claiming to need to find a restroom. She slipped out of the stuffy room, relieved when the hall was cooler and quieter and she could take a full breath.
The middle of the floor was opened to an ornate staircase, but on the opposite side of the stairs her eyes landed on a man standing by himself, leaning against the wall.
Simon.
His eyes were closed, and his posture was guarded, and he wasn’t aware of her presence.
He’d obviously left the room for the groom’s event to get a breath of fresh air the way she had.
She should probably leave him alone, but he looked strangely lonely, vulnerable, standing by himself the way he was.
He didn’t have best friends here the way she had. He didn’t have anyone but her.
She walked over to where he was leaning against the wall. “Hey,” she said softly.
He jerked and opened his eyes, but he didn’t pull away from her the way she was half-afraid he might. “Hi,” he breathed.
She moved over to lean against the wall beside him. “You okay?”
“Yeah. You?” His dark eyes searched her face.
“Yeah. I’m fine. It was getting hot in there, and I just don’t have the energy I used to have to walk the social gauntlet.”
“You used to like it, didn’t you?”
“I don’t know. I thought I did. I mean, I always liked to... to make a showing socially. I like to get ahead and hold my ground and respond appropriately to every new drama that came down. But now...” She’d been staring at the door to the event room she’d just left, where she could hear female voices wafting out.
“Now what?”
“I just feel... too old and tired for that.”
He gave a soft huff of amusement. “You’re twenty-five.”
“I know. I don’t know why I feel old, but I do.”
“Wait until you’re forty.”
With a smile, she reached over to put her hand on his forearm. Just a light, companionable squeeze. He didn’t pull away. “I know. You’ll always be older than me and make me feel like my old-feelings don’t matter.”
His tone surprised her when he responded, sounding suddenly serious. “I didn’t mean to make you think they don’t matter. I know how that feels. Like you’ve suddenly pulled away from your old life, and you’re not even sure how it happened. It’s disorienting. But natural, I think.”
Her eyes lingered on the chiseled lines of his face. “What life did you pull away from?”
“You think I’ve always been an antisocial old grouch?”
“Well... yeah.”
He gave another one of those amused huffs. “Maybe I have been. But I wasn’t always this bad.”
“What were you like in school?”
He met her eyes briefly, a strange sort of hesitance in his expression. “I was... quiet. I worked hard. I wasn’t popular.” After a pause, he added, “I went to a school a lot like yours, but I was on scholarship.”
“Oh.” She hadn’t known this. Not even this much about him.
“The others made sure I knew I didn’t belong.”
She could see it. See it so clearly. And a little part of herself wondered if she would have treated him the same way. She moved her hand slightly so it was touching his. They were still standing side-by-side, leaning against the wall. At the warm feel of his skin, she unthinkingly twisted her fingers so she could twine them in his.
He didn’t pull his hand away.
“Do you still feel like an outsider?” she asked.
He didn’t answer immediately. Then, “Yes. I always have. Like I’ve always been on the outskirts, looking in on everything I want and can never have.”
She swallowed hard, amazed he’d shared something so intimate with her.
“Why have you always felt like you couldn’t have it?” she asked softy.
He gave a small shrug. “Growing up, I never had the money or background that the kids around me had. I could never be like them, be one of them. I learned to... not care.”
“That’s why you’re so standoffish with everyone, I guess.”
“I suppose.” He sighed. “Your father was ten years older than me, but he was one of the few people who ever tried to be a friend to me. I was just working for him, but he treated me like an equal, like a real person. I’d gotten really good at
being alone. I thought I wasn’t missing anything. He showed me I was wrong.”
Charlie’s eyes burned as she thought about her dad. “He was a... really good man.”
“He was a lot like you.” Simon stared ahead of him for a minute. “I miss him.”
“I miss him too.”
They were silent for a moment, and Charlie thought about how Simon must feel, having been friends with her father and now... something else with her. No wonder he was uncomfortable. No wonder he kept his distance.
She didn’t blame him.
Maybe she was the one who was trying to force things to a crisis when they were better off the way they were.
But she’d had such a strong feeling last year, watching Simon in the kitchen in the middle of the night. She’d known then what she knew now.
There wasn’t another man on earth that she wanted more than Simon.
“I feel like an outsider sometimes too,” she admitted at last. “I think everyone does. It’s part of the human experience.”
“Maybe. But there are varying degrees. What about Hannah and Madison?”
“What about them?”
“How can you feel like an outsider when you have such good friends?”
“It’s not really about friends. It’s about... experiences in life. You can still feel alone a lot, even when you have good friends.”
“I know you can. But you’re not an outsider, Charlie. Everyone loves you.”
“No, they don’t.” She was still holding his hand, thrilling at the fact that he wasn’t pulling his away.
“Yes, they do.” There was a roughness to his tone that made her look over at his face, but his eyes were staring at an empty place in the air.
“Then why do I feel like I’m alone,” she asked softly. “Like I’ve somehow gone too far and left everyone else behind?”
“You haven’t.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I’m right here. You haven’t left me behind.”
Her breath caught in her throat, and for just a moment she saw a smolder of feeling in his eyes—so different from his normal endless stoicism. She felt herself crumple strangely, and she reached over to wrap her arms around his neck, instinctively trying to pull him close.
