Did this sort of simplicity really make people happy? Could someone honestly find enjoyment in things like this?
In Julian’s experience, they couldn’t. How many people had he known—especially since his career had taken off—who only seemed happy when they were dining at five-star restaurants or traveling to exotic locations for vacations, living in multimillion-dollar homes and driving expensive cars. That was his world. That’s what seemed to be the norm for what it took to make a person happy and content.
“I love this, don’t you?” she asked, breaking into his thoughts.
“The burgers?”
She let out a small laugh as she turned to look at him. “Well, the burgers are really good, but I’m talking about this—the beach, the waves, the smell of the ocean.” She inhaled deeply and let her breath out slowly. “I’m telling you, if I could, I would set up my office right here in the sand and be totally fine with it.”
He couldn’t help but chuckle at the image. “I’m not sure you’d get much work done.”
“Probably not, but it would be worth it. It would be like constant mental health therapy. I bet I could totally make that a thing.”
“Or you’d find yourself living here—and not in a good way—because you wouldn’t be able to pay your bills.” He said it teasingly but she seemed to sober instantly. “What? What did I say?”
“Okay, look,” she began seriously, “I’m really trying not to pry but…”
“But…?” he prompted.
“Are you okay?” she asked, reaching out and placing her hand on his arm. They both seemed to stiffen at the gesture even as she paused. “I mean…do you have a place to stay that’s safe? Because I know of other shelters that are closer than the one in Santa Monica and I can get you in if you need it.”
Wait a minute…on top of thinking he was just down on his luck, she thought he was homeless too?
“Listen, Charlotte, I think you misunderstood—”
She interrupted before he could go any further. “I don’t usually just blurt out something like that. I try to be more sensitive and wait until someone wants to confide in me about what’s going on in their life, but I feel like you’re struggling with this—and that’s totally fine! But you need to know that it’s okay and that there is help for you.”
For a while, all he could do was stare. In his entire life, Julian couldn’t remember a more awkward moment.
Ever.
And that was saying something, considering the conditions when he’d essentially walked away from his life three months ago.
“Seriously, Charlotte, you need to listen.”
But she wasn’t listening. She was rummaging through her purse and pulling out her phone and scrolling in search of something. “We can find you a place to stay. I mean I know you have a car, but I really hope you’re not sleeping in it. There are so many options, and if you come to my office tomorrow, I can have you working by the end of the day. I promise.” Her eyes were huge and she was so passionate about what she was saying that Julian had no idea what he was supposed to do or say.
The truth would certainly help…
And it would, but it was going to be embarrassing to them both when he admitted why it was that he didn’t need her help.
Dammit, this really wasn’t the way he wanted all of this to go down.
All he wanted to do was have a simple dinner and just have a conversation with her. He wasn’t looking for drama, and he certainly wasn’t looking to open the can of worms he’d been trying to keep closed for three damn months.
Unfortunately, he didn’t have a choice.
Tossing the rest of his dinner back in the bag, he stood up. She looked up at him in confusion and with a myriad of emotions in her eyes that almost drew him in and forced him back down beside her.
Then he remembered another pair of expressive eyes he’d always caved to, and vowed to stand his ground.
“I need to show you something,” he said gruffly and watched as she cleaned up her dinner mess and slowly climbed to her feet. He helped her fold up the blanket, took their trash and tossed it in the nearest can, and slowly began walking down the beach toward the houses.
They walked along quietly, but he knew it was only a matter of time before Charlotte asked questions.
He figured he’d beat her to the punch.
“I’m not homeless,” he said, keeping his gaze trained straight ahead. “When we met on Sunday, I know you got the impression that I was a guy in crisis—and I am—just…not the crisis you seem to think.”
Beside him, Charlotte looked at him with her brow furrowed. “I don’t understand. You said you were between jobs and you couldn’t pay for your breakfast.”
“It wasn’t that I couldn’t pay because I was broke, I just didn’t have my wallet.”
“O-kay…”
Julian stopped in front of the first of the houses that overlooked the beach. “You see these houses?”
Wordlessly, she nodded.
“This is where I live,” he said flatly, still not looking at her.
“You live in that house?”
“Not that one, but the fifth one down is mine for the next few months.”
She was silent for so long that Julian thought he’d go crazy. When he couldn’t take it any longer, he forced himself to face her. “I was simply a guy who forgot his wallet that morning. I didn’t mean for you to jump to any conclusions.”
But she wasn’t looking at him, she was staring up at the houses, and when he looked a little closer, he saw her trembling slightly.
“I really am between jobs,” he said quickly, unsure why he suddenly felt the need to explain himself. “It’s just—”
“It’s not really an issue,” she finished for him in a soft voice, almost sad.
He saw her swallow hard before she looked down at the sand and he knew she had to be embarrassed. He sure as hell was.
“Charlotte…”
Then she turned and looked at him. “Why didn’t you correct me?” she said with a little snap in her voice this time. “I mean, if I was so off-base—and clearly I was—why not just tell me the truth? Why come to the shelter and sit through my class? And why keep going back there and helping out? I never had to know, Julian! You could have just walked away on Sunday and paid it forward like I asked you to!”
“I know,” he said and suddenly felt like he was being reprimanded as if he were a child. He’d done a lot of stupid things in his life—particularly in the last five years where Dena was concerned—and no one had ever called him out on it quite like this. Now here he was standing on the beach with this woman calling him out on something as minute as a misunderstanding over why he didn’t have a wallet.
She continued to stare at him as if waiting for more of an explanation, and as much as he kept telling himself he didn’t owe anyone anything, for some reason he felt like he owed Charlotte at least the truth.
With a weary sigh, Julian raked a hand through his hair. “I’m Julian Grayson,” he said and waited for her to recognize it.
But she didn’t.
Not a big deal, but—
“I’m the drummer for Shaughnessy,” he explained.
Still nothing.
This time his sigh was more one of agitation.
Then he spilled out the story of his life: the band, his relationship with Dena, the wedding, and his road trip to escape it all.
“So now I’m back, and when you offered to buy my breakfast that day I thought you had recognized me and wanted something from me,” he said, beyond irritated that he’d been talking for the better part of fifteen minutes without her uttering a single word. Now that he was done, he was certain she’d offer some sort of apology for all he’d been through or for not recognizing him or…something.
Instead, Charlotte stiffened her spine and til
ted her chin at him. “It was nice to meet you, Julian Grayson, and I wish you luck with your life.”
And she turned and walked away.
Julian blinked, too stunned to move. That was it? That was all she had to say? Even if she didn’t offer him any sympathy—or ask for an autograph!—she could at least have offered him some sort of professional advice. She was a social worker who—from everything Hank had told him—wanted to help everyone. Well, he needed help, dammit! Why wasn’t she concerned with him?
Charlotte is the kind of person who wants to help everyone. It doesn’t matter if they want her help or not.
More of Hank’s words came back to him, and rather than making him feel bad, as they had earlier, this time they pissed him off. Granted, he hadn’t been honest with her, but he hadn’t out-and-out lied either. She misunderstood the situation and he just hadn’t corrected her soon enough. That didn’t make him some sort of criminal or someone who wasn’t worth her time, for crying out loud. She even worked with reformed criminals, so what made him so undeserving of help?
By the time he got out of his own head and focused on his surroundings, Charlotte had blended into the crowds enjoying sundown on the beach.
Dammit.
You know what? he thought with a shrug. Screw it. He was fine exactly the way he was, and he didn’t want her help or guidance or advice, none of it.
Good riddance.
* * *
That attitude lasted until Saturday morning, when Julian opted to go out for coffee and found himself in line behind Charlotte. He’d like to say it was a coincidence, but maybe he’d lingered around outside until he saw her go in.
Maybe.
If she noticed him walk in, she wasn’t letting on. She was reading something on her phone and from what he could tell, she was fairly oblivious to anything going on around her. Sure, she moved when the line moved, but other than that she kept her head down. It left him wondering what he should do.
And if he did happen to say hello, then what? What could he possibly have to say after that?
“Hey, Carly,” Charlotte said in front of him, effectively pulling him from his thoughts. “Can I get a caramel Frappuccino and a parfait please?”
For some reason, Julian felt like this was his opportunity. “Can you add a large black coffee and a blueberry muffin to that?” he asked as he stepped forward and pulled his wallet out.
“That’s not necessary,” Charlotte quickly interrupted, looking only at the cashier. She pulled out her own wallet and had her credit card out before Julian had his. “Just for mine, please.” Then she gave him the side-eye before returning her attention to the transaction.
“Seriously?” he asked, more than a little annoyed. “Why is it okay for you to pay for my order and I can’t pay for yours?”
With a smile and a word of thanks to Carly, Charlotte stepped down to the end of the counter to wait for her order without uttering a word to him. Fortunately, he was able to pay for his quickly and was standing beside her a minute later. “Well?” he demanded quietly.
“That was different,” she hissed. “You couldn’t pay for your order. I am perfectly capable of doing so.”
Leaning in a little closer, he smirked at her. “And here I was just trying to pay it forward.”
She rolled her eyes. “No, you’re trying to clear your conscience, and I don’t appreciate it. If you want to do something nice for someone, do it for a stranger.”
“You’re kind of a stranger. I mean…other than your job, I don’t know anything about you,” he said simply, enjoying the light feeling this banter was giving him.
The barista called out Charlotte’s name and she stepped away to pick it up. With another word of thanks, she turned and walked toward the exit and away from him.
With a huff of frustration, Julian hung his head. “This shouldn’t be so damn difficult.” His order came out immediately and he made his way out of the shop. It took him all of ten seconds to spot her walking across the street toward the benches where she could watch the waves.
Rather than jog after her like he was inclined to do, he made his way slowly over to the benches and sat down beside her—not too close, but close enough to hear her huff of annoyance.
“If paying for my coffee will put an end to this, you can just give me five bucks and go,” she said, but her lips twitched as she said it and that’s when Julian knew he had her.
“Uh-uh-uh. For all I know you’ll spend that money on something you don’t need. Face it, you’re going to have to let me buy it for you myself.” He took a sip of his coffee and felt victorious. When he lowered his cup, he grinned at her.
“Why are you like this?” she asked, but there was no heat behind her words.
“Like what? Friendly? Considerate?”
Her eyes went wide. “There are many words that come to mind when I think of you, Julian, but friendly and considerate aren’t two of them.”
“But you do think about me.”
She laughed out loud and it was an amazing sound. Laughter was something he hadn’t heard a whole lot of in a long time and he realized just how much he missed it. It seemed like every time he was around Charlotte, she made everything seem just that much…lighter.
Which should have annoyed him, considering how much he wanted simply to bask in his anger and misery. That worked for him and he was comfortable with it. This whole happy, sitting-on-the-beach-laughing thing felt weird and completely unfamiliar.
“Are you working today?” he asked.
Charlotte shook her head. “I finally have a day off.”
“You’re up and out early for your day off. I would imagine you’d want to sleep in and relax.”
She looked at him oddly. “Why? This is how I love to start my day. It’s a bit of a drive to get here, but once I am here, it fills all of my senses. I can clear my mind and relax and then I just have a better attitude and outlook for the rest of the day.” She took a sip of her coffee and pointed out toward the sand. “You see that group of people over there?”
“The ones with the mats?”
Nodding, she said, “Someday I’m going to be brave enough to join them.”
Julian looked out at the group and noticed they were all doing matching poses, then freezing, changing poses, and freezing again. He looked over at Charlotte. “Why the hell are there so many poses?”
“I’ve never taken a yoga class, but I keep telling myself that someday I’ll learn enough about it where I can join that one and not make an idiot out of myself.”
He studied the group again. “Doesn’t seem too hard. Just looks like a lot of bending and then staying still.”
“There’s more to it than that.”
“Not from here there isn’t.”
“Anyway…what about you? Why are you out here so early?”
He shrugged and took another sip of coffee, then held out his cup to her. “They make a great cup of coffee and I don’t. Plus they have muffins. It was either come here or have a bowl of soggy cereal and sub-par coffee.”
“Poor you,” she murmured.
They sat in companionable silence while Julian took a couple of bites of the muffin and Charlotte took a spoonful of her parfait.
“What do you do on your day off—you know, other than not doing yoga on the beach?” he asked.
“Today I just planned on doing stuff around the house—laundry, vacuuming…nothing exciting.”
“I’ll say,” he murmured.
“We can’t all have housekeepers,” she said under her breath.
Draping his arm along the back of the bench, he shifted toward her. “What if you did?”
“Did what?”
“Had a housekeeper and you didn’t have to go home and do all that crap. What would you be doing today?”
“Kind of a moot point considering it’s
not an option,” she stated and took another prim spoonful of her parfait. She was looking straight ahead, almost as if she were ignoring him, but Julian wasn’t going to let that happen.
“But what if it was,” he said softly in a teasing tone, leaning in a little closer. “Just pretend, Charlotte. If you had a day without any responsibilities, what would you do with it?”
And that’s when he noticed she was getting tense—her back stiffened and her expression went from carefree and relaxed to strained.
Totally not the reaction he thought he’d get.
“You know what—”
“I’d sit on the beach and read,” she said, interrupting him. “I would set up one of those big umbrellas and a chair and a blanket and have a little cooler with snacks and drinks and just sit and read all day.” Then she turned to him with a hint of sadness in her eyes. “It’s not exciting, but it’s two of my favorite things to do.”
“So why don’t you?” he asked, confused how her simple admission made her so emotional.
With a small shrug, she looked away. “Because it’s not a productive use of my time. It’s a little selfish and the only one benefiting from it is me, so…”
Now he fully shifted on the bench to face her. “Everybody needs some time like that, Charlotte. Hell, I just took three months to do it.”
“And did it help?”
The question brought him up short. Had it? Yes, it had. It had been a good distraction, and he wasn’t completely delusional. Taking off the way he had hadn’t solved anything, but it had given him time to think, to breathe, to relax. Eventually Julian knew he was going to have to deal with the situation and the aftermath, and he’d be stronger for having taken some down time.
“It did,” he admitted. “At the time it was a necessity. In your case I think you—more than anyone I know—deserve a mental health day. From what I hear, you do more than your share of work to help those in need.”
Her head tilted as she looked at him curiously. “Where’d you hear that?”
“Hank talked about you quite a bit. From his point of view, you practically walk on water. And even if he hadn’t said a word, I watched you in action on Sunday. You take on a lot. I would imagine hearing the things you do on a daily basis, and dealing with people who are essentially in crisis mode are mentally and emotionally draining.” He paused and finished his coffee. “And that’s why you need a mental health day.”
One More Moment Page 7
