One More Moment

by Samantha Chase

  Now he had to wonder if she was the norm or those other women were.

  Man, he hoped it was her. That would give him hope for the future.

  Hope? Geez, when was the last time he’d had any of that?

  “Julian? Are you okay?” Charlotte had stopped laughing and was looking at him with concern, her hand reaching out and resting on his knee.

  He shook his head and cleared this throat. “Um…yeah. Sorry. I guess my mind wandered for a minute.”

  “That’s probably my fault,” she said with a self-deprecating laugh. “I’m sure you’re used to talking about way more exciting things than me being a klutz at eighteen. Sorry.”

  Tossing his pizza slice back into the box, he straightened. “You want to know what I was thinking?” He didn’t give her a chance to respond. “I was sitting here thinking how freaking refreshing it is to have a conversation with someone who is genuine. I love hearing you talk about the things you did growing up and how it all adds up to make you the woman you are right now.”

  “Julian—”

  “I’m serious,” he interrupted. “Do you know how long it’s been since—”

  His words were cut off by the sound of his phone ringing. Excusing himself, he went to grab it from the kitchen counter. It was Mick.

  “Hey, Mick. What’s up?”

  “Julian, hey,” Mick said, sounding unusually cheerful. “There’s an offer on the house. It’s not quite what we were asking, but…”

  “Accept it.”

  Mick was quiet for a minute. “It’s only the first offer, and I thought you might want to counter it and try to get at least a little closer to the asking price.”

  “Then why didn’t you just do it?” Julian asked, hating how this part of his life was interrupting his time with Charlotte.

  On the other end of the phone, Mick sighed loudly and lost a little of his chipper tone. “Because this isn’t my house and I thought you’d want a say in it.”

  “And I do. I said to accept the offer.”

  “Jules, can you just take a minute and think about this?” He gave Julian the number the potential buyers were offering, and while it wasn’t the price he had wanted, it was pretty close. Did he really want to haggle and drag this out? Which was what he said to Mick.

  “How about I go back with another twenty-five grand?” his manager replied.

  “Mick, seriously, why are you asking me, if this is what you want to do? I already told you I don’t care about this. I just want it gone. I don’t want to have to look at the house or think about it again. Just—do what you think is best and get it done, okay?”

  Another round of silence. “You can’t just keep putting off dealing with things, Julian. Sooner or later, you’re going to have to come to grips with it all and actually deal with it. Avoidance isn’t the answer.”

  “Thanks, Dr. Phil. I’ll take that into consideration,” he said.

  “Fine. I’ll get it sold and we’ll never talk about it again.”

  “That’s all I want, man. Told you that weeks ago.”

  “Okay, fine. Excuse me for making sure you make a little money,” Mick said flatly. “So what’s going on with you today? You going to see the guys again this week? Matty’s only here until next weekend, and you all sounded great when you played the other day. You should try to do it again before he heads back east.”

  Julian looked over at Charlotte as she rose and walked out on the deck. She had been cleaning up her pizza mess and was trying to give him some privacy. Maybe he should have been the one to leave the room.

  “I don’t know,” he finally said. “Maybe. We didn’t make any plans.”

  “You got something better to do?” Mick asked sarcastically. “Aren’t you tired of your own company by now?”

  “I’m doing okay. I’ve got no complaints.”

  Mick laughed quietly. “You hanging out with the social worker?”

  Tension started a slow build. “That’s none of your business.”

  “So that’s a yes,” Mick said, clearly unfazed by Julian’s terse tone. “Trust me, I’m not complaining. I think it’s great. You need a good shrink in my opinion, but I’m sure she’s got a background in that too. Might as well get a little help while you’re having some fun.”

  Tension turned to rage. “What is wrong with you?” he snapped. “What kind of person do you think I am, first of all? I’m not hanging out with Charlotte for freaking therapy! What she does for a living has nothing to do with anything!”

  “Fine, consider me put in my place,” Mick said. “Whatever. Look, I really was just calling about the house. Don’t let me put you in a mood and ruin your day. It was good to see you looking so relaxed at Dylan’s. You need to focus on feeling like that and not being all…you know…you.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with me,” he said defensively.

  “You keep telling yourself that, Julian. Maybe someday you’ll get everyone else to believe it.”

  He wanted to growl with frustration. “Are we done here?”

  “Yeah, we are,” Mick said. “I’ll call you when there’s a contract.”

  “Good.” And Julian hung up before Mick could say another word.

  He hated this. Hated how defensive he got and how easily riled up he became at the mention of just about anything. The only time he truly didn’t feel like that was when he was with Charlotte. Why? Because she didn’t ask him anything about his life. Well, she had and he’d cut her down and she hadn’t asked again.

  Looking out toward the deck, he saw her leaning on the railing with her head tilted back as the sun shone down on her, a serene smile on her face. What he wouldn’t give to feel like that.

  Seeing her like that, the last thing he wanted to do was go out there and talk about himself and bring her down—which he definitely would. His life was such a mess, and she would probably run the gamut from shocked to horrified to disapproving. Did he really want to ruin what they had and what they’d been feeling all day by bringing up the crap he just wanted to forget?

  As if sensing his stare, Charlotte looked over her shoulder at him and smiled.

  And just like that, she drew him to her. He couldn’t have stayed away even if he tried. Julian wanted to be near her and simply…hope that some of her goodness would rub off on him.

  How pathetic was that?

  When he got close enough, he wrapped his arms around her waist and gazed out at the water with her. “Not too crowded out there today,” he said conversationally. “Sundays are usually a busy beach day.”

  She shrugged. “I think by this time of day most of them are heading home. Probably been out here since earlier and now it’s time to get dinner ready and all that. Plus, tomorrow’s Monday, which means it’s time to transition back into work mode.” She paused. “Which I probably should do too.”

  Damn. He wasn’t ready for the real world to interfere just yet. Especially not after his conversation with Mick. Right now, he wanted to be selfish and ask her to stay so he could go on feeling better and—not that he’d admit it—wouldn’t have to be alone.

  Yeah, he was pretty tired of his own company.

  Rather than respond to her statement, he held her a little closer and rested his chin on her shoulder. He had to admit, he was beginning to understand her obsession with listening to the sound of the waves. It really was relaxing, and the anxiety he felt moments ago while talking to Mick seemed to slowly disappear.

  Or maybe it was just having Charlotte in his arms.

  “Don’t go,” he said softly, unable to keep from saying the words. “Not yet.”

  To her credit, she didn’t react in any obvious way, but simply said, “Okay.”

  And then the weirdest thing happened.

  He started to talk.

  “That was my manager on the phone. He was calling to tel
l me there was an offer on my house in LA.”

  She nodded. “Was it a good offer?”

  “It wasn’t bad.”

  “Okay.”

  “It pissed me off that he called because I really don’t care about the negotiations. I just want it gone so I can be done with it.”

  “I can understand that. I’ve never owned my own house, but I know how it feels to be ready to move on from a place.”

  “There was a time when I really liked that house,” he admitted. “I never loved the place, but it met all of my needs.”

  “What kind of place would you love?”

  He shrugged. “Honestly? I don’t even know. For so long I’ve been listening to other people telling me what I need and what I should want that I haven’t given any thought to what I really do want.”

  Turning her head, she gave him one of those smiles that he loved. “Well, it looks like now you have the chance.”

  It couldn’t possibly be that easy, could it?

  “What about you, Charlotte? What kind of place would you love?” he asked, turning the tables on her.

  “Oh no,” she said with a small laugh. “You’re not getting out of it that easily. You said you never had the chance to think about it for yourself, so I want to hear your thoughts.”

  “I wouldn’t know where to begin…”

  “Ranch style or multistory?” she asked, turning in his arms to face him. Her hair was whipping around, so she stepped to the side, took him by the hand, and led him back into the house. “Sorry, that was going to be distracting.”

  He found everything about her distracting.

  But in a good way.

  Once they were back on the sofa, Charlotte sat between his legs with her back against his chest. His arms immediately wrapped around her as she asked her question again. “So, ranch or multistory?” She paused. “No thinking—what’s your first thought.”

  “Ranch style,” he said automatically and then had to stop from laughing because the house he was selling was two stories.

  “Okay, that’s a good start,” she said and he knew she was smiling. “Now, Craftsman or modern?”

  “Craftsman.”

  “New or fixer-upper?”

  Huh, he’d never given any thought to doing his own remodeling. That definitely sounded intriguing.

  “I wouldn’t mind a fixer-upper. I think it could offer a lot of possibilities.”

  “So could building from scratch. Either way, the place would have your own personal stamp on it.”

  “Okay, my turn,” he said. “Which would you do—new or fixer-upper?”

  “Ooo, a fixer-upper. Definitely.”

  “Tell me why,” he encouraged, curious to know her thoughts.

  “So many older houses have cool design features, and even though most of them could be replicated, it just wouldn’t feel the same. Plus, I love the thought of rehabbing a house and taking something old and making it look new again.”

  Why was he not surprised? Basically, it’s what she did for a living—but instead of homes, she did that for people. She took people who were down and out and helped fix them up and make them feel like new.

  He hugged her a little tighter.

  “Back to you,” she said. “City or suburbs?”

  “It would depend.”

  “On?”

  “The house. I’m open to both. I’ve always lived near a city because I like the conveniences, but I thought I’d want some more privacy this time around. You know, have a lot of property, that sort of thing.”

  “That’s a good plan.”

  “But…now, after living here on the beach, I’m beginning to see the appeal in that, too.”

  “You could always just have a vacation home on the beach somewhere and have your full-time residence somewhere more private.”

  And he’d never thought of that either. Dena had never wanted him to invest in a vacation home because she wanted to stay places that had room service and spas she could access around the clock. Personally, he hated staying in hotels—even though it was a large part of his life when the band was on tour. And when they weren’t touring and he just wanted to go away someplace and relax after having people around him 24-7, he wanted a home away from home. But Dena had bitched so much that he always caved, and he’d hated it.

  It was looking as if he suddenly had so many options in front of him and he was the one in control of them.

  “Do you want to stay in California or move someplace else?” she asked.

  There was a time when he’d considered moving back to the East Coast. He’d grown up near Myrtle Beach, Matt and Riley each had places along the North Carolina coast, and his parents were still there as well. California hadn’t been his dream, but—

  Dammit. He needed to stop going there in his mind. All it did was piss him off at how he’d given up for far too long on the things that made him happy.

  “East Coast,” he said, a little more harshly than he realized.

  “O-kay,” Charlotte responded slowly.

  “Sorry. I’m just…every time I answer one of these questions, I get mad at myself over and over again, because it makes me realize how I haven’t been living the way I’ve wanted to.”

  And now that can of worms was open.

  “It shouldn’t make you mad, Julian. It should make you happy that now you can live the way you want with nothing holding you back. Some people go their entire lives living in circumstances they don’t like and they can’t change. You can. Don’t look at this as a negative thing. You’re lucky.”

  Right. There were many words Julian could think of to describe himself, but lucky wasn’t one of them.

  As if reading his mind, Charlotte said, “It’s true.” Then she twisted in his arms so she could look up at him. “You were in a crappy relationship. I see that sort of thing a lot in my line of work. I have women come in who have been abused and abandoned and have nowhere to turn. They all cry because they stayed in those relationships for too long, and they talk of how they escaped.” She paused and went contemplative. “I always thought it was such a strong word for their situation—escaped—but that’s really how it is. It takes time for them to transition and realize they’re now in control of their own lives. Then they flourish. They blossom into the person they always wanted to be. I love when that happens.”

  He thought about those words. “Are you saying you think I’m ready to blossom?” he asked with a hint of a smile—amazed to be poking fun at himself.

  Charlotte playfully swatted at his arm as she giggled. “I didn’t mean you,” she clarified. “I was just saying it’s similar to the situations I’ve seen. You’re just looking at things in a negative way rather than seeing all the ways that it’s positive.”

  That was true—no matter how much he wanted to deny it. He’d been living in such a negative state of mind for so long that he wasn’t sure he’d know how to go about changing it.

  “I—I don’t know how to do that,” he admitted, painfully.

  And in a move he didn’t see coming, Charlotte turned to straddle him. She wasn’t smiling. She wasn’t serene. If anything, her expression had gone completely neutral and it made him instantly regret saying anything. He wanted her lightness, her playfulness. Because right now, he knew she was in social worker-slash-helper mode and the last thing he wanted was to be some sort of pity case for her.

  You need a good shrink in my opinion, but I’m sure she’s got a background in that too.

  Mick’s words came back to him, and he firmly placed his hands on Charlotte’s hips to move her aside. She must have guessed his intentions, because she grabbed his wrists to stop him.

  “There’s no time limit on how long you’re supposed to grieve, Julian,” she said seriously. “If you had just walked away without feeling anything and simply moved on, I’d b
e concerned. But the fact that you’re still struggling—that you’re unable to focus on the good because you’re still feeling bad—tells me that you’re not as heartless as you seem to want everyone to think.”

  She placed her hand over his heart and he swore he felt it all the way through his chest.

  “You’re angry, and you are entitled to feel that way. I’m not here to tell you that it’s time to get on with your life. Only you will know when that time is.” She paused.

  “But…?”

  She didn’t even crack a smile.

  “But eventually you will. If you allow yourself to.”

  He frowned. “What does that mean?”

  Her expression softened and he knew it was the kind she’d give to anyone who came to her for help.

  He wanted to be annoyed by it, but he was too curious about what she had to say.

  “It means that sometimes we’re our own worst enemy. We go through something traumatic and we put up walls around ourselves thinking it’s for our own good. It’s a defense mechanism to keep from getting hurt again. And in theory it sounds great, but the reality is that it keeps us locked in the pain. It keeps us in that negative mind-set because we’re refusing to move forward.”

  Holy crap—that actually made sense.

  “Every day we wake up and we have to remember why it is that we’ve got these walls in place. And all it does is give the person who hurt us the victory. Not only did they hurt us, but they have permanent residency in our minds with the daily reminder of the pain they created. So they win and we miss out on having the life we so desperately want.”

  His heart was hammering hard in his chest because every word she was saying was true. He was waking up every day thinking of all the ways Dena had screwed him over and he was forcing himself to stay in isolation—something he had always hated—because of her. And he knew he would remember it every day even though he longed to break free!

  Could he possibly do it? Could he—in time—not think about it? And be happy?