by Gina Azzi
I felt present in the moment, without worry for tomorrow. I felt connected to Ollie without wondering if he was having fun or not. I knew he was because it was obvious in his big grin and flashing eyes. I felt…whole.
By the time the living room is straightened up, Ollie has dozed off on the couch. Charlie lifts her finger to her lips and gently pushes his hair back with her other hand. She’s so maternal with him, so giving. Her gesture causes a swell of emotion to rise in my throat, and I swallow against it, embarrassed by how sentimental I’m being.
Offering her a quick smile, I slide my arms under Ollie’s sleeping body and lift him against my chest. Watching his lips part slightly on every exhale, I smile down at my boy as I carry him up the stairs to his bedroom and tuck him in underneath his navy duvet. I stare at him for a long beat, reconciling the boy he’s growing into with the little monster who used to color the walls. Am I enough for him? Or does he need more?
More time? More attention? More…care? In ways that maybe I don’t even know how to provide?
Closing his door halfway behind me, I bound down the steps to find Charlie in the kitchen, placing the leftover pizza slices into Ziplock bags.
“You don’t have to do that,” I tell her.
“It’s nothing.” She flattens an empty pizza box.
“Want a drink?” I offer.
Her gaze flickers up to mine, her blue eyes clear. “What are you doing, Evan?”
“What do you mean?” I lean against the doorframe, unable to tear my gaze away from hers. I want to note every expression that crosses her face, every question that flickers in her gaze, everything that helps me get a read on the beautiful woman in front of me.
She clears her throat. “Tonight was fun.”
“It was.”
The corner of her mouth lifts as she gives a small nod. “We haven’t done this in a long time.”
“But we could,” I point out. “We used to have fun, remember? Dinners and movies. Playing board games on Saturday nights with Ollie. Going out with my brother and Zoe.”
“That was only one part of it,” Charlie says gently. “The other part was late night meetups and drunken passion. Yeah, we had fun together. But those sweet moments were overshadowed by an impulsive recklessness that we threw ourselves into at midnight. In a way, it felt like I was your dirty little secret and —”
“Don’t say that,” I cut her off, unable to hide the thread of anger in my tone. “You were never a secret.”
She gives me a disbelieving stare. “You never told Ollie.”
I sigh. “You’re right. I never told Ollie because I didn’t know how, and I didn’t know what he would think, and I didn’t know if it would work between us. God Charlie, I was captivated by you. I craved being with you, loved the time we spent together. But every time you spoke of your future, you were in New York or L.A. in a design program. And I wanted that for you, I swear I did. But I also didn’t want Ollie’s heart to be broken when he was already so attached to you. Hell, it was hard enough for me knowing you were going to leave but I didn’t want that for Ollie. Not when he was still trying to process his mom leaving.”
Her mouth drops open, bewilderment flashing in her eyes. “That’s why you tried so hard to push me away? Because of graduate school?”
I shrug. “It was one of the reasons.”
“That’s stupid,” she says, pointing at me accusingly. “You pushed me away because you were…scared?”
I grip the side of my neck and sigh, forcing myself to meet Charlie’s eyes. “Charlie, when Sophie left us, it was because she was an addict.”
“I know that.”
“Before she was an addict, she was a very unhappy, overwhelmed wife and mom who felt like she compromised all of her dreams, her entire future, by marrying me and having Ollie. She resented the hell out of the hours I worked, while she was here rocking our son to sleep. At the time, I didn’t see that she was drowning because I was drowning too. We didn’t support each other the way we should have and she resented me so damn much that taking drugs was more pleasant than being my wife.” I slap my palm across my chest, staring at Charlie. “You think I wanted that for you?”
Her mouth drops open as she stares at me, her confusion giving way to understanding and then, tenderness. “Evan, why wouldn’t you tell me that back then?”
I shrug, offering a small smile. “Charlie, your presence was so much larger than you ever realized. I felt like anything I said would have held you back. But I was wrong.”
“What?”
I step into the kitchen and take her hands in mine. “I was wrong, Charlie. I was so fucking wrong about everything. About my career. About you. About us. I underestimated you, and I underestimated my son, and for that, I’m sorry. I’m sorry I hurt you. I’m sorry if I ever made you feel like some dirty secret. But we can do this.”
“Do what?” She narrows her eyes.
“Try again. For real this time,” I say, staring into her eyes until I drown in their depths.
Charlie’s breathing hitches as she shuffles back half a step. “Evan, last time we tried this, I was all in, and you pushed me away because you thought I was going to leave.”
“I know.”
“But now, I’m really not planning on sticking around,” she says softly, regret heavy in her voice.
“I know,” I admit. “But I still want you, Charlie. And I don’t want you to walk out of here not knowing that.”
Her cheeks burn pink as her tongue darts out, sliding along her bottom lip. “What if we take things slowly…just feel each other out? It doesn’t have to mean anything serious. It can just be…what it is for now?” She lifts a shoulder, her eyes darting back to mine.
I brush a strand of wayward hair out of her eyes, tucking it behind her ear. My fingers pinch her earlobe. “Baby, it can be whatever you want it to be. Or not. I’m done trying to control everything. I just want you. On whatever terms you’re willing to try, I’m all in.”
Her hand lifts and wraps around my wrist, as I cup her cheek.
“Evan,” she breathes out, her gaze darting between my eyes and lips and back again. “I don’t know how to do this with you.”
“Just be yourself, baby. You don’t have to do anything else.” I tell her the truth.
Her grip on my wrist tightens as she lifts onto her toes and presses her mouth against mine. I close my eyes, wrapping my other hand around her waist and holding her against me. Her lips are soft and sweet against mine. When her mouth parts, I dip my tongue inside, letting it dance slowly with hers.
Heady and languid, consuming and sweet, our kiss solidifies the truth of all the thoughts swirling in my mind.
I’m falling in love with Charlie Adams.
14
Charlie
When Evan kisses me back, I stop overthinking all the things.
I stop caring about my permanent move to New York.
I stop wondering if he’s going to break my heart again.
I stop panicking about Ollie waking up and walking down the stairs.
Instead, I take what I want in this moment.
Right now, I want him.
Our kiss grows hungrier as I slide my hands to his shoulders and press against them for leverage to deepen our kiss.
Evan growls, spinning me until I’m pinned between the kitchen wall and his hard body.
“What is it with you and this kitchen?” he murmurs as he drags his mouth away from mine to kiss a path down my neck.
I snort, my hand cupping the back of his head, my fingers threading through his hair. “You always catch me off guard.”
He pulls back, his eyes burning when they meet mine. “No, baby. It’s you who flipped my world upside down.” He pauses, his gaze searching. “Tell me what you want, Charlie. Right now, what do you want?”
“You,” I answer simply. Truthfully.
Evan’s hands connect with my waist and he lifts me easily. My legs wind around his hips, my arms around his
shoulders, as he pins me back against the wall. This time, when his mouth fuses with mine, the sweetness is gone, replaced by his need. I moan, arching off the wall and into his embrace as he overwhelms me—his scent, his bunching muscles, his steady touch.
Getting lost in Evan Holt has never been my problem. It’s been finding myself in the aftermath. But this time, when his eyes connect with mine, they’re shining with a seriousness that wasn’t there three years ago. This time, he’s looking at me the same way I used to search for him.
Desperately. Without hesitation.
My legs draw Evan closer as he slants his mouth, his tongue doing delicious things against mine. My thighs quiver as his hand slides down, inching past the waistband of my jeans until his fingers press against my clit, featherlight, making my hips tilt up for more. I feel his smile against my mouth. “Greedy girl.”
I practically whimper, rocking myself against his hand until he swears.
In one swift movement, Evan gathers me against his chest and walks me upstairs, right past Ollie’s bedroom door, and into his room. He lays me gently in the center of his bed, walks back to lock his bedroom door, and turns to me with the moonlight playing over the shadows on his face.
“No matter what happens between us, Charlie, I’ll cherish every minute you ever give me,” he murmurs, his expression more serious than I’ve ever seen it.
I frown at his words, frown at the man before me who is giving off none of the usual signals I expect from him. Where he used to avoid talking about his feelings, he’s now sharing openly. Where he used to fail to commit to anything, he’s now placing the ball firmly in my court.
It’s unsettling. And heady. And…well, I like it.
His fingers fly down the row of buttons on his shirt until it hangs half open, offering a peak of his delicious abs underneath. My mouth dries, and I work a swallow as he moves closer. He places one knee on the bed, his hands darting out to wrap around my ankles. He drags me to the edge of the bed as I gasp. His expression is wicked, his eyes wild, as he unbuttons my jeans and peels them from my legs. Then, he drops to his knees, slides my panties down my thighs, and lowers his mouth, a moan exploding in the air as he gets his first taste of me.
“You’re so fucking sweet, baby,” he says against my core, his nose sliding up my folds followed by the slow drag of his tongue.
I cry out, my neck arching as my hands grip his comforter.
Evan tortures me slowly, building my pleasure in incremental waves until my body is shaking, humming with need and anticipation and expectation and a million other things I can’t process. His hands are on my thighs, holding my legs open as his mouth continues to kiss and lick and nip at me.
“Please, Evan,” I whimper, needy and desperate.
“Tell me, baby.” His voice is deep, raspy, on the brink of losing control.
“Need you.”
He drags his tongue up my center again, and I buck off the bed. Then, in one swift movement, he’s on his feet, his pants falling to the floor, his hard dick in his hand for one stroke before he pushes inside of me, and we both cry out.
Evan fills me until I can’t take anymore, the feeling delicious and overwhelming. When he slides out, the sound of my desire colors the air and he swears, his hands gripping my hips as he works a rhythm that has me exploding around him and seeing stars.
“Evan!” I cry out, my hand grasping his forearm, my other hand gripping the comforter.
“That’s it, Charlie. Feel me, baby.” He continues to move inside of me, letting me ride out the waves of my orgasm before another one begins to build deep in my core.
“Oh God.” I squeeze my eyes closed tight, unable to process anything but the sensations Evan is creating inside of me.
“You’re so fucking beautiful.” His voice holds a note of awe.
I force my eyes open, and they slam into his, falling headfirst into two green pools. His gaze is bleeding with honesty, overflowing with want, shining with truth.
It isn’t long before I’m falling over the edge again, with Evan following closely after.
He collapses on top of me, rolling until he can pull me against his chest. His heartbeat races in my ear, and I press a kiss against his heart. “That was amazing, Evan.”
“You’re amazing, Charlie. You always have been,” he whispers, his fingers stroking my hair.
My eyelids grow heavy, and somewhere my brain clangs with a warning.
I need to get up. I need to get going.
Oh, but I don’t want to move a muscle.
Ollie. Evan’s rules. It’s late.
I groan, starting to shift my weight to the side and make for the edge of the mattress.
But Evan’s arm tightens around my waist, and he hauls me back against his chest. His fingers stroke the skin near my belly button as he kisses the back of my head. “Shh, sleep baby.”
I open my mouth to protest, but Evan’s kiss along the back of my neck distracts me, warms me, settles me.
Within moments, I drift into a deep sleep.
One filled with everything except regret.
When I wake the next morning, Evan’s grin greets me.
I pull back, startled by him, his bed, being here in his bed with the morning light filtering through the blinds. Pieces of last night, of his body moving over mine, of his breath against my neck, of falling into a peaceful sleep after being blissfully shattered, snap together in my mind.
Oh.
I spent the night at Evan’s home. In his bed. With his strong arms holding me against his chest.
I smile back. “Good morning.”
His palm skirts up my hip and settles in the dip of my waist as he leans forward and presses a kiss to my mouth. “Morning.” His voice is gruff and raspy and deliciously sexy. “How’d you sleep?”
“Really great,” I admit, surprised that despite our twisted history, I’d be able to drift to sleep in his arms without overanalyzing any of it.
“Good.” He squeezes my waist. “You hungry?” My stomach growls in response and his smile widens. “Pancakes or waffles?”
“Stop. You make breakfast? All this time, you were holding out on me.”
Evan snickers, sliding to the edge of the mattress and standing. He pulls on a pair of joggers and slips into a T-shirt, his hair messy and adorable. “You know I’m the king of breakfast. You better decide before I ask Ollie. He always picks waffles.”
My mouth drops open as I realize the most important puzzle piece. Ollie is here. Not at Keith’s house or a birthday sleepover but here, in this house, about to sit down to breakfast between his dad and me…the woman his dad had stay the night.
“Don’t do that.” Evan points at me.
“Do what?”
“Overthink this. Ollie isn’t a little kid anymore, and you’re not just some woman.”
My eyebrow shoots up, asking the question I don’t want to voice. I’m not?
“Pancakes or waffles?” Evan asks over his shoulder, his hand already on the doorknob. “Last chance, babe.”
“Waffles.”
“Ollie’s already in love with you, but this will put him over the edge.” He pulls the door open, slips into the hallway, and closes it until it latches behind him.
I sit in the center of his bed, my mouth open, my hands clutching the sheets at my sides.
I know, I know, he didn’t mean love, but still the “L” word coming out of Evan’s mouth and directed toward me, even if he was speaking about Ollie…it’s just something I never thought I’d hear, and it’s taking me a moment to process it.
That’s all. No big deal.
Moments pass and I hear Ollie’s excited whoop followed by his racing footsteps and his and Evan’s morning chatter floating up the stairs.
Pulling myself from the bed, I dress in the jeans and sweater I wore yesterday, trying not to cringe at how obvious that will be to Ollie. I mean, not any more obvious than me walking out of his dad’s bedroom and sliding into a chair at the table, but
somehow wearing yesterday’s clothing seems to blare that message as a constant reminder.
Sigh. I step into the bathroom, wash my face, pull my makeup bag out of my purse to reapply it in a way that makes me appear bright eyed. I comb my hair out before pulling it into a knot at the top of my head. When I’m satisfied that I look somewhat presentable, I steel my shoulders, leave the safety of Evan’s bedroom, and walk into the lion’s den.
“Morning Charlie!” Evan calls the moment I pass the threshold into the kitchen.
Turns out, the lion’s den is more of a cub haven because Ollie looks positively delighted to see me.
“Strawberries or blueberries?” he asks sweetly, a spoon in his hand hovering above the bowls of fruit, ready to drop a spoonful of berries onto my Belgian waffle.
“Both.” I waggle my eyebrows, sitting down in the chair next to him.
He raises a skeptical eyebrow but acquiesces, adding both berries to my waffle before sliding my plate to me.
“Thank you, kind sir,” I tell him as Evan places a hot mug of coffee under my nose. “And thank you.” I look at him, smiling.
He smiles back, his expression open, his eyes clear. To someone who hasn’t spent months of their life studying the small facial expressions of Evan Holt, nothing would seem out of the ordinary. Nothing about this moment would be discernible at all.
But I see the flash of happiness, not contentment but pure joy, in his green eyes. I note the relaxed dip of his shoulders. His energy is calm, his presence peaceful. For a man who always appears on edge, his current demeanor fills me with lightness and hope. Is he happy because of me? Do I make Evan happy?
“Are you guys dating? Like boyfriend and girlfriend?” Ollie asks, pouring a puddle of syrup on his plate.
My back snaps straight, my eyes widening, waiting for Evan’s reaction. But Evan’s easy-going grin never slips. “That depends, big man.”
“On what?” Ollie asks, looking up.
