by Gina Azzi
But it will help heal Ollie’s.
I place down the beer bottle. “She wants another chance. To be Ollie’s mom. To be with Evan. She wants…I guess she wants her life back.”
“She just told you that?” Zoe sounds unconvinced.
“Basically. She just, she asked me to step back and give her the chance to heal her family,” I murmur, recalling the threadbare sweater that clung to her shoulders, so rounded in they nearly kissed. Her skin was sallow, her eyes yellow and tired.
“How’d she look?” Zoe asks, reading my mind.
“Like a homeless drug addict,” I supply. How do I tell them the rest? How do I explain the twist to the scenario that will bask everything in clarity but demonstrate what a pawn piece I am in my own life?
“Did she talk to Ollie?” Harlow asks.
“For a few minutes. She acknowledged him, but by his reaction, you’d think she won a medal for Mom of the Year.” My tone is bitter and I wince as I hear it. Of course I want Ollie to have his mom back in his life. Of course I want Sophie to have the chance to know her son. But how long will she really stick around if—
“What aren’t you telling us?” Zoe demands, sensing the secrets I’m hiding, the way she has for years.
I peel the corner of my beer label back, knowing there’s no point in lying. She’ll see through me, and honestly, right now, I want her to. “She’s connected to Frankie.”
“Ahh!” Zoe exclaims, slapping her hand against the table in the back of Shooters. Suddenly, I’m grateful we are in a back booth, away from listening ears. “There’s the missing puzzle piece. He’s seriously scum.”
Harlow glances between us, her expression creased with confusion.
“Frankie is Charlie’s ex-fiancé. He’s connected to the Esposito family,” Zoe supplies.
Harlow gasps, lowering her voice. “Like, the mafia?”
Zoe nods, her eyes sliding toward me. “Doesn’t it bother you that Frankie’s meddling in your life again?”
Anger blasts through me, fast and furious and burning out as quickly as it blazes. I close my eyes and drop my head back against the booth, defeated. “Of course it bothers me, Zoe,” I snap, rubbing the space between my eyes.
“I’m sorry.” Zoe’s tone is contrite, and I open my eyes.
When I see her expression, I sigh. “I know. It’s just, God, I’m fucking furious. Why won’t he give me up? He is the vilest person on the freaking planet. And I’m an idiot for not seeing that back when I was fourteen.”
“To be fair, no one saw it then. We were all enamored with him,” Zoe points out.
“He was really all that?” Harlow asks.
“You haven’t seen him yet,” Zoe explains. “Even though his soul is black, he’s irritatingly handsome. And charming. And a lying, manipulative, deceitful pig. Who borderlines on genius because—”
“I get it,” Harlow says when she sees my expression.
“Sorry.” Zoe winces, shooting me an apologetic look.
I sigh again. “Guys, I don’t know what to do. I mean, I do. I know what I have to do. I have to remove myself from this situation, so Ollie can have a chance at having a mom. Sophie said that Frankie will pay for her rehab, cover all her bills, get her clean, and walk away if I’m no longer in the picture.”
“Did she seem like she really wants to get clean?” Harlow asks.
I shrug. “To me, yes, she seemed genuine. But I don’t know the woman at all.”
“And addicts are skilled liars,” Harlow mutters, her words bitter.
“What’s Frankie’s endgame?” Zoe asks suddenly, her brows pulled together. “He’s barely contacted you all these years and now what? He wants you back?”
I bite down on my tongue, knowing I have a lot of explaining to do. And knowing that Zoe is going to put it all together in five seconds flat.
“Charlie!”
I wince, biting my bottom lip.
“What aren’t you telling us?” Zoe demands.
Harlow is glancing at me expectantly, her expression sympathetic, even though her eyes are concerned.
“He did contact me,” I admit.
“What? When?” Zoe rocks back in confusion.
“A few years ago. Right around the time I was hoping things between Evan and me would grow more serious.”
“What did he want?” Zoe leans forward now, her eyes scanning my face as if that will give her answers faster.
I shrug, trying to figure out the best way to explain this to Zoe. “You know things between Frankie and me were always complicated. At first he warned me off Evan. Told me I’d just end up brokenhearted all over again.”
“What did you say? How did he even know?” Harlow asks.
“It’s a small circle in our neighborhood. Even after we broke up, I knew Frankie kept tabs on me. In a weird way, he never saw me as not his.”
“What a piece of work,” Harlow mutters, picking up her drink and taking a long gulp.
“Seriously,” I agree. “Anyway, I blew him off, talked Evan up, even though it was becoming obvious that things between Evan and me weren’t go to work out. Not the way I wanted them to. Ever since Dad passed, I ignored and deleted every message Frankie sent me. I even blocked some of the numbers he tried to contact me from. But then, he started randomly popping up where I was. He never apologized, never took responsibility for anything, just appeared out of the blue. Like a shadow, a reminder that as long as I was here, I’d never be truly rid of him…” I trail off as Frankie’s words fill my head. No one will ever love you like me, Charlotte. You’ll always be mine.
“I don’t get it. Why didn’t you just tell him to fuck off?” Harlow asks.
Zoe shakes her head, giving me a sad look. “Frankie’s family has eyes everywhere in this city. After he called off his and Charlie’s engagement, no one would date her. If she did get asked out, the guys usually bailed before the date.”
“Damn,” Harlow whistles. “Until Evan?”
I nod. “Yeah, Evan was different from the start. Mainly because he doesn’t need Frankie for anything. If anything, Frankie needs Evan. Or at least his law firm.”
“Is it weird that Evan represents the Esposito family?” Zoe asks.
I shrug. “Evan is one of the best criminal defense lawyers in the city.”
“I don’t know how he does his job all day.” Harlow shudders.
“Same. And he doesn’t even seem to like it,” Zoe tosses out, popping a French fry into her mouth.
I glance at her. “He doesn’t, does he?”
“Not even a little. Sometimes, I think he wishes he never even went to law school.” Zoe rolls her eyes.
I take a swig of my drink, considering Zoe’s point. It holds merit. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen Evan’s eyes light up when he talks about his work. In fact where work used to invigorate him, excite him even, now, he winces when his phone rings, and he seems drained at the end of each day. A guy just going through the motions of his life without truly living it.
“What are you going to tell him?” Harlow asks, slicing through my thoughts.
“Tell who?” I furrow my brow. Is she talking about Evan or Frankie?
“Evan,” she responds, exasperated.
Sighing, I lean back in my chair and shrug. “I don’t know.”
“Well, you’ve got about ten seconds to sort that out.” Zoe flips her chin toward the entrance of Shooters.
I turn to look and wince as Evan, Eli, and Connor barrel through the doors, scowling.
“Damn,” I whisper as my friends huddle closer to me.
“Just be honest,” Harlow advises.
“Don’t bring up Frankie too much,” Zoe warns.
“You’ve got this, babe.” Harlow squeezes my forearm in encouragement.
“Yeah. I mean, Evan’s a rational, levelheaded guy with—” Zoe breaks off as Evan’s face, looking anything but rational, appears at the end of our booth.
“Good luck,” Harlow murmurs as
Connor reaches for her.
In the next moment, my two friends have jumped ship. Following Eli and Connor to the bar for a round until I’m alone in the booth.
Only for an instant, though, because in the next moment, Evan slides in across from me. He folds his hands neatly on the table, trying to appear calm. But I note the muscle that ticks under his right eye. I see the tightness in his jawline and the tension in his shoulders. To say nothing of the fury in his eyes and the thin line of his lips.
“Hey Ev,” I breathe out, feigning casual.
But my blasé greeting seems to piss him off even more. I hear his molars click together as he snaps, “What is going on, Charlie?”
19
Evan
Charlie gulps.
She looks uncertain and flustered and…guilty.
“Charlie,” I warn, losing my damn patience, even though I’ve just sat down. I swipe Harlow’s beer and take a swig, the tangy taste barely cooling some of the anger pulsing in my bloodstream. “What the hell happened at the park? Why haven’t you answered any of my calls?”
She winces as I call her out, but I’m too worked up to soften, too bewildered to not press. I raise my eyebrows at her, waiting for a response that makes some damn sense.
Because my son is planning my wedding to his mother, and the woman I’m falling in love with looks ready to run.
“Things are…complicated. They need to be handled delicately,” she murmurs, not meeting my gaze.
“What things?” I bark, wincing when she flinches.
“Sophie wants to change. She’s trying, Evan.”
“And you believe her? After one conversation at the park?” I ask, incredulous, as I stare into Charlie’s deep blue eyes and see…truth?
Charlie shrugs. “I want to.”
“Why?”
“For Ollie.” She narrows her gaze at me, and this time I feel the chagrin I deserve.
Of course she wants my son to have his mother in his life. I want my son to have his mother in his life. But why does that have to come at the expense of Charlie? Of the relationship we’re finally cultivating after years of pretending the feelings we shared weren’t real?
“I know,” I blow out. “Of course we both want the best for Ollie. But Charlie, you’re pulling away. You’re acting like you and Sophie being in Ollie’s life is an either or and not a both. I don’t understand. Please, help me see your thought process on this…help me understand where you’re coming from.”
Her eyes shimmer with unshed tears as she glances away. The corners of her mouth pinch, and her bottom lip quivers.
I move my hand across the table to reach for her, but she pulls back from my touch and looks up, her eyes filled with a steely resolve I like even less than her tears.
“It is an either or, Evan. Ollie deserves this chance. He deserves to have the family he wants, to have his mother in his life the way he always dreamed of. I won’t stand in the way of his happiness; I won’t put myself between the family you could have and the family you have now.” She shakes her head as if to emphasize her point.
“What are you saying?” I ask slowly, needing her to be blunt, needing to feel the blade as it slices through me, cutting my hope off at the source.
“I can’t do this with you anymore,” she whispers the words, but her tone doesn’t waver, her gaze doesn’t flinch.
I do. Even though I anticipated the words, they still plow into me like a bulldozer, knocking me back several inches. Hurt shocks my system, and for an instant, a tiny acknowledgement flares in my head. I deserve this; I did this to her once.
But the thought is quickly snuffed out by the resolve to make her see pumping the breaks isn’t the right decision. More time and space aren’t options anymore. Not when I know how perfect we could be together, not when I know what it feels like to have Charlie’s sunshine in my life.
“Charlie.” I wrap my fingers around her wrist and tug her closer. “Please, don’t do this. Don’t let someone else’s drama get in the way of us.”
“Someone else’s drama?” She snorts. “Sophie is your ex-wife. She’s Ollie’s mom.”
“I’m falling in love with you, Charlie.”
Her mask slips for an instant, and a blaze of hurt burns over her features.
I lean closer, latching onto the fact that her feelings for me run deep. That she cares as much as I do. Why won’t she give us a chance then? Why won’t she fight for what could be?
She tugs her wrist from my hold and blinks. In the next instant, her expression is so altered, so nonchalant from the passionate woman I know that I wonder if I imagined her pain a moment earlier. “Evan, we were never going to work. I’m planning to make a future in New York. Your life is here. Ollie’s life is here and now so is his mom. Please, don’t make this harder than it has to be. Just let me go. Like you did the last time.” With that, she slips from the booth, pulling on her coat.
I watch her leave, watch as Zoe and Harlow clamor after her.
Closing my eyes, I lean my head back against the wall of the booth and wonder how the hell I messed everything up when I finally thought I was getting my life on the right track. How did it come to this? Am I going to lose the one woman I want to put out the fires of the woman who left her husband and son without a backward glance?
A thud on the table forces me to open my eyes. My brother and Connor slip into the booth Charlie just vacated, three shot glasses and a bottle of Jack between us.
“Really? I’m going to drink away the pain?” I quip, feeling more miserable than I have in years. Deflated, dejected, and so damn confused I don’t know which way is up, I reach for a glass.
“Can’t hurt.” My brother pours a round.
Slamming back the strong alcohol, I savor the burn as it blazes down my throat. He’s right. Nothing can hurt as much as watching Charlie walk away from me, knowing I don’t have any of the words to make her stay. Because deep down, she’s right. She’s creating a future in New York and I’m here. Right where I’ve always been.
I’m thankful as fuck that Zoe kept Ollie overnight because when I wake the next morning, it’s nothing like the hangovers I remember from college. Hell, I didn’t even have hangovers like this in law school.
Nope, the pounding in my brain, the alternating chills and sweats, the clenching of my stomach are all the hangover symptoms of an old man. A guy who shouldn’t be out drinking his heartache away while his son wonders when his mom is moving home.
Ugh. Even the thought of Sophie coming back here, back into our lives, is enough to make my head spin. Where the hell has she been the past few years?
Pulling myself from my bed, I launch my body into the shower.
Once I’m cleaned, brewing a pot of coffee, and toasting some bread, I chance a look at my phone.
I swallow back bitter disappointment that among the slew of messages, none are from Charlie. Sighing, I plop down onto a barstool, gulp coffee that burns the roof of my mouth, and open the message from a number I don’t recognize.
Unknown: Evan, it’s Sophie. I just want to talk. I want to know Ollie, to see him. Please, can we meet and talk?
I groan, the sound coming up from the pits of my despair. Images of Sophie assault my mind, appearing of their own volition. The night she gave birth, her face beaming, curly tendrils escaping her ponytail after a grueling thirty-two hours of labor. But the love that shone from her eyes when she looked at our sweet baby seemed to erase all the hardship she endured to bring him into the world.
Sophie and Ollie playing in the backyard in the snow, their noses red, their eyes shining. The birthday cake she baked for his second birthday, a Cookie Monster theme. The lullaby she used to sing to him as she rocked him to sleep, holding him against her chest, as he slept soundly, his mouth dropped open in slumber.
Anguish twists through my stomach, causing me to race to the sink. I dry heave but nothing comes up, nothing except all the bitter pills I’ve been forced to swallow since Sophie left us. And th
e new ones I’m still choking on with Charlie’s rejection.
Bracing my hands on either side of the sink, I hang my head and force my swirling thoughts to calm. No matter what, Ollie deserves my best. He deserves to have his mother in his life, and I owe it to him to make sure that Sophie is capable of being that mother.
Rinsing out my mouth straight from the faucet, I dunk my entire face, forcing myself to get with the freaking program. This isn’t about just me. Everything with Sophie affects Ollie and Charlie, too.
I pick up my phone.
Me: Sure. Coffee? Are you free today?
Sophie: I can meet anytime.
Me: The Java House. Noon.
Sophie: See you there.
At the confirmation, a wave of nerves zips through me. I haven’t come face to face with Sophie in nearly six years. Still, I remember the curve of her face, the natural highlights of her hair, the scent of her skin like I held her just yesterday. Knowing I’m going to see her in a few hours, talk to her, be with her sets me on edge. It makes me feel guilty, like I’m somehow betraying Charlie’s trust, which is ridiculous because more than anyone else, Charlie’s the one who pushed me to welcome Sophie back into my life.
But why?
20
Charlie
“I’m here.” I throw my purse down on the worn picnic table inside the garage. I don’t have to see him to know that he’s here, just like he said he’d be.
As if on cue, Frankie emerges from the shadows. His eyes are too dark, too soulless to decipher his intentions, but at this point, I don’t care. I just need to get this over with, put this entire visit behind me, and get back to New York.
“You look gorgeous, babe,” Frankie greets me as if we’re still dating, and I flip him off. My rudeness seems to amuse him because he chuckles. He raps against the top of the picnic table and sits down, gesturing for me to do the same.
I sit and raise an eyebrow at him, ready to put this, him, behind me. “What do you want?”
“You did a good job, just the way I knew you would.” He tilts his head to the side, his black eyes probing, studying me. “You always were a good girl, Charlotte.”
