I reached my fingers out to grasp the card and said an internal prayer that the wording inside wasn’t incredibly corny or at least held something poetic or real. When I flipped it open, I let out a sigh of relief. It was blank. Nothing adorned the inside of the card, almost as if the front did all of the speaking and the inside didn’t need to intervene. I could write whatever I wanted.
I paid for the card and headed back to the car, the ideas swirling inside of my head conflicting with my own emotions. I didn’t want to write something profound or cliché. I wanted to write something that would speak to Charlotte, something that would let her know I was here and always would be. I wanted beauty to reflect in my words and my heart to be felt in every sentence.
I wasn’t sure when I had turned into a lovesick fool, but I relished in it and I hated it at the same time. I wanted to shower Charlotte with words of love and material objects. I wanted to adorn her in diamonds and pretty things, and then I wanted to rip them off of her and throw her on the bed, crushing the breath from her while she writhed in pain and pleasure filled ecstasy. I wanted every single piece of her, the damaged and the whole, and I wanted it with a fierceness I couldn’t explain. I wanted to punish her for leaving me and then hold her in my arms forever.
I shook my head, clearing my thoughts of punishments and anger. I needed my new found soft side to write my thoughts in this card. I needed it to be perfect. She needed me to be perfect, even if she would deny that vehemently.
A half an hour later and many renditions of what I wanted to write wadded up on the floor, I sealed the card, half proud, and half scared shitless with my words. I watched as we pulled up to the large church, surrounded by hundreds of people waiting to enter and pay their last respects to a successful businessman and a less successful husband and father. I waited in the car until the church doors opened and most of the people had ventured out of the heat and into the air conditioned house of worship.
When I made my way inside, I slipped the card into the pile of condolences and flowers adorning the front entrance table. I signed the guestbook and sat in the very last pew in the back. I wanted to head to the front and find my wayward daydreamer and hold her to my chest, crushing the hurt out of her, but I was fully aware that giving her space would earn her favor, much more than a public display.
Occasionally, a fellow industry man would come up to greet me, and as someone who had worn masks my entire life, I had no difficulty with proper responses to the mundane questions feathered at me, but my attention and my eyes wandered the expanse in front of me, searching for Charlotte.
I knew when she walked into the chapel. Familiar electricity buzzed around me, enveloping me in a current of lust and fulfillment. Even as far as three hundred feet away, I could smell Charlotte’s unique scent as it wafted up my nose and settled into my heart. My eyes finally settled on her, turned away from me, talking to someone I didn’t know. Her back was partially exposed, but hiding under a thin panel of sheer black lace. I scaled my way down her body, taking in her slightly smaller curves and the way her dress seemed to cling to every outline of her beautiful frame.
The lace of the garment hung down to just below her knee but the black slip underneath stopped several inches above that, revealing her creamy thighs underneath the see-through material. My erection strained against my zipper, remembering those beautiful thighs wrapped around my waist, taking me into her very center. I let my thoughts float for just a moment longer before I regained my control and focused back on the object of my lust, and love.
Although I made no sound and drew no attention to myself, I knew it wouldn’t take long for the static between us to reach her and for her to turn and face me. I immediately knew when that realization hit her because her back straightened in an almost painful way and she turned gracefully to scan the crowd. I stared at her, willing her to find my eyes, and I hoped my own pupils didn’t betray the lust I felt deep within me. It wasn’t the time or place, and I wished someone had told my cock that.
When her eyes landed firmly on mine, the emotion flaring within them made me internally shudder. I could feel the waves of pain, terror, love and remarkably, lust radiating off of her in waves, crashing in my direction. I could see the hesitation lingering within, and it took every ounce of my willpower to remain sitting and not rush her into my arms. I nodded at her and gave her a small smile. She nodded back and turned back around to the guests she had been previously talking with, but the tension never left her back and shoulders. Every few moments, I would catch her turning away from the crowd in front of her and innocently scanning the new arrivals, seemingly checking in on everyone but secretly meeting my eyes every time.
After a short amount of time, the minister took his place at the podium in the front of the church and the mourners took their seats. Charlotte sat in the front pew with a highly distraught woman who I vaguely recalled as Dimitri’s fourth wife, Abigail. I noticed that Charlotte sat a person’s gap away from her, clearly not comfortable or close to the somber woman. Every few moments, Charlotte’s hands came up to dab a tissue at her leaking eyes and the need within me to comfort her grew to unsurmountable levels.
When I felt like I couldn’t take anymore and I needed to either reach out to her or leave the uncomfortable temple of sorrows, Charlotte stood and walked to the podium, her piece of paper shaking in her hand. My heart dropped to the floor for her and I wished for the millionth time that day that I could absorb her pain and hold her until she was whole again.
The crowd was eerily silent as she made her way up and took a stance behind the microphone. Her face was pale and, even from the back, I could see a bead of sweat forming on her forehead. With how vibrant and outgoing she was, I never pegged her for being scared of public speaking, but she looked as if she was going to be ill. Taking a deep breath, I watched as she looked up into the crowd and gave a shaky smile.
“Thank you all for coming and celebrating the life of my dad, Dimitri Hightower. My father was, as most of you know, incredibly dedicated to his work. Not only was he highly talented, but he was an amazing employer and the proof can be found in most of you. My father was loved by so many of you and I know that this tragedy has hit you all just as hard as it has hit our family.
Dimitri’s presence filled everyone here with warmth. I can’t express how many times he would tell me amazing stories of people from the highest management positions down to the hidden people in the mail rooms. He was always so proud of his staff, no matter their rankings.
Similar to his work life, he made a deep impact in his own personal life. His wife, Abigail, was the love of his life and I know I speak for her and the rest of Dimitri’s children when I say he will be greatly missed.
In honor of my father, the management at Hightower Holdings has decided to set up a scholarship fund for one employee's child every year. My father was extremely passionate about education and believed everyone deserved to succeed. We will have more details to follow in regards to the scholarship, but my family and I felt this would have made Dimitri incredibly proud.
Dimitri Hightower was a great man, who was loved by many and will be missed by all. On behalf of his family, I truly thank you for coming out to honor him today. Thank you.”
I watched as she carefully folded her paper, and stepped out from behind the microphone. She looked a mixture of relieved and sad and my heart went out to her. She took her seat at the front of the church and we all waited as one by one employees and family went up to pay their respects. I watched her back and the soft waves of her hair falling over one shoulder falling from her side bun. Almost as if I was next to her, I could tell when she was sobbing or when she suppressed a small laugh when someone would tell an amusing tale of Dimitri Hightower. Throughout the ceremony, I watched as her shoulders slumped and, after the proceedings were completed, saw her entire body shiver and shake as sobs racked her body. It tore my heart out.
Row by row, family and friends walked up to say goodbye and give the fami
ly hugs of condolences. I observed the way she spoke with each individual person and nodded in thanks to each apology. Her speech, although quite impersonal, was delivered with sincerity, strength, and grace. She was so incredibly strong and I admired her so much.
When my turn came to say goodbye, I walked up to the front of the church. Her eyes found mine as I made my way to the casket first. I wanted to run to her side, but I knew she wouldn’t appreciate me taking the spotlight off of her father, only to shine it on her. I needed to be slow about my approach. I needed to think like Charlotte.
After I stood in front of the wooden box for a seemingly respectable amount of time, I followed the line heading towards the family. I hugged his wife and offered a warm handshake to his sons. The grief rolling off of them all was enough to make the bile rise in my throat, but I choked it down for Charlotte.
When I walked up to her, I saw the indecision flit across her eyes before she pushed out her hand for a shake. My mouth came up in a half smile and I lightly shook my head at her before I spread my arms and pulled her into my embrace. She stiffened in my grasp for a moment before relaxing into my hold. A perfect fit. I pressed my lips to the top of her head and kissed her hair, inhaling the sweet smell of the woman I loved. I never wanted to let her go. The perfection in that moment was indescribable. It was as if our bodies had finally figured out what had been missing and were clinging to their other halves. She melded into me like she had never left, like I had never hurt her. I felt safe, and I knew she did as well, but I needed to let her go, the line behind me was building and I didn’t want to make a scene.
Before she could pull away, I gripped her shoulders and gently separated our bodies. Looking into her eyes, I leaned down and placed a chaste kiss on her cheek. She tasted of salty tears and the morbid part within me wanted to drink all of the tears that had fallen. Before withdrawing, I bent to her ear and whispered a question, “Meet me at the LA Cafe after the service?”
When I let her go and she looked up at me, her bottom lip was caught firmly in her teeth as she gnawed away, deciding if she would join me or not. Although it felt like it took her a year to answer, a few moments later she nodded her head and refocused her gaze on the person waiting behind me. I stepped away from her, immediately feeling the loss of her heat and her love, and it almost made my knees crumble.
I walked to the back of the church and exited through the doors to get some much needed air into my lungs. I was finally going to get the opportunity to tell her how sorry I was, face to face, and the realization scared the shit out of me. I found Bracks in the parking lot and told him the plan. It took every ounce of my self-control not to wipe the smirk off of his arrogant face. He knew, as much as I knew, that I had fucked up, and he was going to enjoy watching me squirm. She deserved the apology, that was indisputable, but apologizing still made me uncomfortable, no matter how much it was warranted. Leaning up against the sedan, I waited for her to emerge, and finally, after weeks of waiting, walk back into my life.
Chapter 9
Alex
If I had thought that my appearance at her father’s funeral, coupled with my heartfelt card and my sheer diligence would have made Charlotte fall into my arms, then I would have been dead wrong. When she exited the church half an hour later, her eyes were puffy and red and she looked ragged and defeated. It killed me to not run to her and take her into my arms and console her. I wanted nothing more than to replace her tragedy stricken face with one of love and passion, but right now was not the time, and I didn’t want to push her too soon or too fast.
She wearily walked up to me and gave me a small smile. “Thanks for coming Alex, I really do appreciate it,” she said, her voice soft, and breaking throughout. It ripped me to pieces.
I nodded at her, unsure of what to say to that. I had never been good with grief, especially someone else's. “Would you like a ride to the cafe with Bracks and me?” I asked, hoping she would say yes, but not wanting to ambush her. She had to make her own decision, no matter how I felt, or what I wanted at the time.
She looked ready to argue, a small flicker of life behind her tired eyes; a spark I had not seen in weeks. Something I had not realized I had missed. When you think of missing someone, you rarely think of missing someone’s attitude or fire, but I knew in that moment that it was one of the things I missed the most about Charlotte. I could tell that all she wanted to do was snap at me and tell me that she could, in fact, drive herself, but, all too soon, the fire went out, and she bowed her head. “Yeah, sure, thank you,” she mumbled.
I clenched and unclenched my fists several times to relieve the pressure around my heart and reduce the anger coursing through me. The anger not directed at her, but at the loss of that something within Charlotte that made her who she was. I wanted to hug her and I wanted to throttle her at the same time. That fire in her was what attracted me to her from the beginning, and I couldn’t bear to watch her give up and fall apart. I understood the need to grieve but she couldn’t lose what made her her.
The ride to the cafe was tense, and even though her presence calmed me, warmth I had not felt in a few weeks, mine didn’t seem to have the same effect on her. I watched as she continued to wring her hands in her lap and stare out the window at nothing in particular. I had never wanted the power of mind reading more than I did in that moment. Was she thinking about me? Or was she thinking about her father and his funeral? I decided to attempt a conversation to see if I could pull her from her musings to interact with me.
“You look beautiful, Charlotte,” I said, watching as she turned around in her seat to face me. I watched as her cheeks flamed when she caught my eye, before she lowered her head and whispered her words of thanks, turning her back to me again to look out the window.
My anger grew again and I worked hard to get it under control. The last thing I needed to do was to get angry with her, because I wasn’t mad at her. I was disappointed she had let herself get so low that even a small compliment could make her blush, and I was disappointed that she seemed to have lost the luminescent aura around her. The beautiful white light that radiated on her skin was gone, replaced with an almost sickly gray tint. Her eyes were not a bright emerald anymore, but the color of a dirty pond.
Looking at her more closely, I could tell she hadn’t been taking very good care of herself. She looked pale and clammy. I didn’t like what I was seeing, but reprimanding her didn’t seem to be the right way to go. I could wait patiently for her to forgive me, but I wasn’t going to see her neglect herself in the process. She needed to take care of herself. She needed to thrive. I was going to have to recruit Rachel if Charlotte wouldn’t listen to me.
When we pulled up to the cafe a few minutes later, she stepped out of the car and held her face up to the warm sun, a smirk highlighting her lips and another blush surfacing just below her skin. The color did wonders for her overall look and I smiled inwardly. She was a California girl through and through and I loved her so much in that moment.
I placed my hand at the small of her back to guide her into the waiting coffee shop before I realized what I had done. The familiar pull and electricity that sparked between us shot through my fingers and down to my groin. I stifled my groan just in time to hear her vocalize her own. I watched as her entire body shivered and then tensed up under my touch. The shudder that ran through her creeped up my own arm, sending waves of delight through my body, but I hated the way she froze afterwards. It sent an icy chill through me, freezing through my own heated lust.
I pulled away slightly when she stopped in her tracks, not wanting to scare her away when I was inches away from my first real conversation with her. My first real chance to voice my sincere apologies. It took her a few moments to gather herself, but I watched as her spine straightened and her chin rose high before she marched away, leaving me in the doorframe of the cafe, mouth agape at the sudden change in demeanor.
I wasn’t far behind when she picked a table near the window and sat down to gaze out at
people walking by. She looked almost childlike, with the exception that her nose wasn’t pressed up against the glass. The sun reflected in and hit the glass, illuminating around her, her red hair sparkling in its’ intensity. I stood for a moment, awe struck. Even sick, she looked stunning, and I couldn’t pry my eyes away.
I shook off the thought and approached her carefully, not wanting to disturb her from her people watching. She seemed to be lost in a moment that I didn’t want to intrude on.
“What can I get you, Charlotte? Would you like something to eat?” I asked quietly.
She looked up at me and smiled. It wasn’t the Charlotte smile I was used to, but it was a good start, especially over the silence I had been enduring over the past four weeks, and the car ride over. The smile warmed my insides almost as much as the California sun outside would have. I felt another piece of my heart glue itself back together. Her smile told me things would be ok, although her eyes still held a healthy level of fear and disappointment.
“Anything you get is fine, Alex, thank you,” she said dismissively, turning around to peer back outside, one of her fingers intertwining with a loose curl framing her face. I stared at her for a moment longer before making my way over to the counter. I ordered my normal coffee and a Frappuccino for Charlotte. I also included an apple strudel and a banana nut muffin to the order so she could have her pick. I paid the woman at the counter, ignoring the flirtatious way she tried to grab my attention, my focus and gaze resting firmly on my redheaded daydreamer by the window.
When our order was finished, I easily carried it over to where an unmoving Charlotte was still sitting, and lowered myself into the opposite booth bench, placing the coffee in front of her and the breakfast pastries in the middle of the table, for her to choose.
Just A Woman (The Porter Trilogy Book 2) Page 5
