Any Other Love
Page 8
She frowned at him. “In case of what?”
“Oh, I don’t know. I thought—I mean . . . You know.” He brushed curls off his forehead.
“I don’t,” she said slowly, eyeing him.
“I just figured you and Charlotte, a hotel room, the city . . .” He shrugged.
“You mean like a date?” She thought again of Char’s hands on her waist, their lips fused, svelte tongues gliding in their own unique dance. “I hadn’t thought about it that much.” With all of their plans, there might not even be time for a date. Sure, she’d said bold things at The 545 the other night—things that had tumbled out of her mouth almost as if she’d been possessed. She liked Char, but her brazen words surprised her. She knew she had game, but she’d never known she had game like that.
Though Char had been nice enough to offer to let her tag along, there was no reason to think there were going to be dates. Or even one date, really. Knowing herself, her anxiety surrounding Dr. Warren would take over and she’d drop the playful mask she’d been wearing.
Matt cleared his throat. “Are you sure?”
He really was pushing the issue. She narrowed her eyes at him. Under her gaze, he squirmed. “What do you know?” she asked.
Matt held up his hands. “Look, my girl is best friends with your girl. They talk. I hear things.”
“She’s not my girl.” She paused, her tongue running along her lower lip. “What did you hear?”
“Charlotte likes you,” he said, lowering his voice as if Char and Rowan could somehow hear him.
“Well, duh.” She tossed a throw pillow at him. “I could’ve told you that.” She wondered, though. She had been the one to kiss Char. The other woman seemed hesitant around her, and there had been that whole walking away thing. Maybe she was chasing shadows. She had no idea what Char was thinking, whether she liked her. She bowed her head, eyes on her hands in her lap.
“No,” Matt said. “I see that look on your face. Ro says Char is super into you. She’s just . . . I don’t know if I should say this. Is there a code? What are the rules?”
Amarie rolled her eyes at him. He was so hopelessly adorable. “It’s okay,” she said. “You don’t have to break boyfriend code or whatever. I can handle it.”
He stood and went to her closet. “Then let’s pack a dress, just in case.”
Chapter 8
The Sunfire purred beneath and around Charlotte. She patted its dashboard. “All right, girl. Get us to New York and back in one piece, and I’ll treat you to a nice wash, wax, and vacuum.”
She’d never taken the car on such a long trip before, but it was in good shape thanks to her brother. Even though he worked long hours as an electrician, Elliott always made time to keep her car maintained and running. Someone had to, she mused with a soft snort. She was about as handy as a butter knife.
Rowan tapped on the glass of her window. Though it was well before sunrise, she wore large sunglasses.
Charlotte rolled her window down. “Are the streetlights too bright for you?” She grinned.
“I hate you.” Rowan smiled back, though her complexion was pale. “Your bartender tried to kill me.”
“He makes good drinks though, right?” She hadn’t been able to drink with Rowan while working, but it’d still been nice to hang out on her last night in town.
Rowan nodded. “Too good. So are you all set to go? Is your gas tank full? Did you eat?”
Charlotte gave her a double thumbs up in response. “Relax, Mom.” She drummed her fingers on the steering wheel to the beat of Royal Blood’s “Little Monster.” “I do need one of your pep talks, though.”
“I’m fresh out of those.” Her best friend leaned against the car. “I wish I could close Elli’s for the day.”
“So you could come with me?”
“So I could sleep this off. Besides,” Rowan said, lowering her sunglasses and fixing Char with a mischievous look, “you don’t need me cramping your style.”
Charlotte tilted her head, her eyebrows knitting together. “My style?”
“You know. Your, like, moves.” Rowan wiggled her eyebrows.
Slumping against the seat, Charlotte groaned. “We talked about this, Ro. There will be no moves. I’m going to the convention and letting her tag along. That’s all.”
“But you like her,” Rowan said, “and she likes you. Matt said she’s nervous about this trip.”
Charlotte raised her eyebrows. “He did?” Her heart thumped in her chest, despite her resolve to just be friends.“What did she say?”
“Why don’t you find out for yourself?” Rowan grinned.
“We’ve been through this.” She sighed. “I have to stick to my priorities.” No matter how much she loved replaying that kiss.
Her parents were working class, though. Darlene Butler was in her fifties but still worked as a nurse at the hospital. John Butler retired from being an electrician, but Elliott had gone to Kaynor and gotten licensed, too, following in their father’s footsteps. He had a good job with benefits and a guarantee of work for years to come. People would always need electricians, her father liked to say.
She wanted to be useful, too. People needed to eat, and they would never be able to try her food if she spent the rest of her life making someone else’s recipes.
Rowan’s lips twisted, but she dropped the subject. “Drive safe. Text me when you get there.”
“Yeah yeah, Mom.” Charlotte rolled her eyes but reached through the window and squeezed her friend’s hand. “Try not to, like, pass out in the storage room.”
“Please. I’ll be napping in the cooler. It’s supposed to be hot today.”
As Charlotte pulled out of their driveway, she said a silent Thank you to her brother for charging her air conditioning while he checked her fluids. It would be even hotter in the city with all of that concrete insulation. The Sunfire’s windows were the old-fashioned roll-down ones, and it would be a pain in the ass to roll them up and down while they were on the highway—a total conversation killer.
Not that she was planning on making conversation. No moves, no flirting. Just two women on a road trip with two completely different agendas. She wouldn’t let herself get caught up in Amarie, no matter how long it’d been since she’d been with anyone. No matter how lonely she was.
A few minutes later, she braked in front of Amarie’s house. In the pre-dawn sapphire light, silhouetted only by the single bulb on the porch, the house looked surreal. She texted Amarie a quick “I’m here,” then settled back into her seat.
The convention could change everything for her. Though she wasn’t even on the highway yet, the thrill of possibility hummed through her veins. Maybe she would discover that she truly didn’t belong in the restauranteur business—or maybe she’d find that she did. She couldn’t let anything distract her during the next few days. She needed to let go of her feelings or attraction or whatever it was, and focus on herself and her future.
The front door to the house opened, and Amarie eased outside, dragging a rolling suitcase behind her. She wore a long gray and white tank top over shredded skinny jeans, her curls falling freely, caressing her collarbone, shoulders, and biceps. Charlotte’s eyes roved over the chunky flower necklace that rested against Amarie’s sternum. As Amarie turned and locked the door behind her, Charlotte’s chest erupted into a billion butterflies.
She might not survive the trip.
Amarie shifted a tote bag that hung on her shoulder and yanked the suitcase toward the three steps that led up to her porch. It all looked heavy—too much for one person to carry. Charlotte shoved open her door and stood.
“Good morning. Want help?” she whispered across the top of the Sunfire. She didn’t want to just rush over like some ableist with a hero complex.
Glancing up, Amarie’s eyes met hers. “Good morning,” she whispered back. “I’m good.” She inched the suitcase down a step, rocking it back and forth as if it had legs of its own. “I just walk it down. See?”
“I’ve got it.” Bending her knees, Amarie lifted the suitcase, using the bumper of the car to help her roll it into the trunk. Then she turned to face Charlotte. “I’ll keep this with me up front, if that’s okay.” She nodded to the tote.
“Of course.” Standing just a few feet from each other, Charlotte could make out the rose, copper, and gold artfully blended together on Amarie’s eyelids. Stark black traced her upper lash line, a flick curling out from each corner. “That’s incredible,” she said. “Did you go to cosmetology school?” Char had initially applied to her technical high school for its hairdressing and cosmetology program, but changed her mind when she got to culinary during exploratory. She thought Amarie had gone to one of Waterbury’s public high schools, but maybe she’d remembered wrong.
Amarie shook her head. “Nah. YouTube.” She grinned in the dark. “I have lots of painsomnia nights, so I have lots of free time to practice.”
“Maybe you can show me how to blend without looking like I’ve been punched in the eye,” Char said, chuckling. She closed the trunk and went back to the driver’s side. Amarie limped over to the passenger’s. Char noticed she didn’t have her cane. “Hey, Am? Sorry. Amarie,” she corrected herself. Heat striped her cheeks and the bridge of her nose, and she was positive the other woman could see it even in the dark. The nickname had just slipped out. She hadn’t even known she had a nickname for Amarie until she said it out loud.
“Yeah?”
“I noticed you, um . . . Are you sure you have everything?”
Amarie lifted an eyebrow at her. “Yeah? I mean, I think so.”
Clearing her throat, Charlotte lifted a hand. “I don’t want to insinuate anything here, but maybe you should bring your cane—just in case.”
Amarie’s eyes widened, and Charlotte winced. The other woman tossed her tote bag onto the passenger’s seat. “Shit. Thank you. I’ll be right back,” she said. Turning, she headed back inside, visibly trying to keep her weight off her right hip.
Charlotte glanced inside the Sunfire. She bit her lower lip, her heart twisting. Her seats, with their not-even-remotely-ergonomic backs and rough woven fabric, were uncomfortable for her. She hadn’t even thought about how painful the ride might be for Amarie. Short of a fairy godmother appearing, there wasn’t anything she could do about it, but still.
She slid into her seat, thinking. Maybe they could stop back at the house and grab some throw pillows off Rowan’s couch. At least one of the more flat ones would help keep the pressure off Amarie’s back while in her seat. She chewed the inside of her cheek as she thought. Maybe she was going a bit overboard. She wondered whether, if she were in Amarie’s shoes, she would prefer her friends make a big fuss or pretend like she was normal. Somewhere in between, she decided. She would want her friends to be understanding and willing to accommodate her, but ultimately she would want to be treated like a normal person.
Taking a deep breath, she braced her wrists on the steering wheel, letting her fingers drape over the back. For someone who didn’t want to get into a relationship with Amarie, she mused, she was putting an awful lot of thought into her.
Amarie reappeared, this time leaning on her cane as she walked toward the car. The cane, Char realized, was the same metallic rose hue as the eyeshadow she wore.
Sliding into her seat, Amarie gave Charlotte a sheepish smile. “I can’t believe I almost forgot this. Thank you for reminding me.”
“No problem,” she said softly, putting the car into drive.
Amarie shifted the tote so that it rested between her feet. From it, she withdrew a black rectangular object. “Do you mind if I plug this in?”
“Not at all.” As she pulled onto the empty street, Char watched Amarie’s movements out of the corner of her eye.
Amarie plugged the object into Char’s cigarette lighter. They passed under a streetlight, and Charlotte saw that it was a power strip inverter. Two plugs with their smiley face slits and holes grinned back at her. Rummaging in the tote, Amarie pulled out a heating pad. She plugged it into the strip, placed it behind her lower back, and eased the seat into a slightly reclined position. Nodding to herself, she eased into the seat. The strip, Char noted, also had two USB slots for charging phones and other devices.
Lips gently curling upward, Charlotte pulled into the Lombard Commons plaza. She shouldn’t have worried at all. Amarie had more self-care gadgets in that tote than Barney the dinosaur had crafts supplies in his big magic bag. She slid the Sunfire into a parking spot in front of the Starbucks and put it in park.
“Maybe someday we’ll get that Starbucks with a drive thru,” she joked, referring to the never-ending zoning struggle between the company and the town. “I’ll run in. What do you want?”
“I’ll come in with you. I’ve got to pee, already,” Amarie muttered with an exaggerated eyeroll.
“Us and our tiny girl bladders,” Char said sympathetically. “I can grab our drinks while you’re in the ladies’ room.”
They both unbuckled at the same time, doors opening in sync.
“It’s okay.” Leaning on her cane, Amarie climbed out. “I can get it.”
“Sorry,” Char said. “I know this car’s kind of low. Makes it kinda hard to get out.”
Amarie flashed a smile over her shoulder, then headed toward the door.
For a moment, Char hesitated, not sure whether she should rush to hold the door for her or if she should let her get it herself. She wanted to, but didn’t want to hover, either.
She sighed softly to herself. She was way overthinking every move she made. Add that to the list of signs she had it bad.
Amarie paused by the door, propping her cane against her hip and pivoting her weight onto her left side as she pulled it open. Shaking herself out of her head, Charlotte hurried to catch up.
She joined Amarie in the short line. “What are you getting?”
A thick eyebrow arched at her. Amusement danced in Amarie’s eyes. “Determined, are we?”
“Very,” Char agreed.
“Give it up. You’re driving, you’re sharing your hotel room with me . . . The least I can do is caffeinate you before we go.” Amarie pinned her with a determined gaze, her full lips pursed in final rule.
“Fine.” Char shook her head. “You can have this one. But I’ve got the next.”
“We’ll see.”
Her heart picked up rhythm, anticipation pulsing through her. It was as if they were playing a well-rehearsed game, each dancing her choreographed steps, edging closer and closer to each other. Amarie’s fingers brushed Charlotte’s waist as she passed. The blood in her veins lit up violet in response. The final number lay up ahead, behind a hotel room door.
And she would have to close the curtain before it got that far.
“What do you want?” Amarie asked.
Char watched the way her lips hugged each word, transfixed. Too bad there wasn’t a shot she could add to her coffee to make herself forget. Shaking herself out of her trance, she mumbled the first beverage that she saw on the menu.
She stepped back, leaning against an empty table for support. From her vantage point, she watched as Amarie ordered for them: the poised tilt of her head, curls shining in the dim coffee shop light; the slender brown fingers that plucked cash from her wallet like the soft feather-tips of a bird’s wings; the curve of her cheek. She wanted to touch that cheek so badly, her fingers twitched at her side.
She swallowed hard. She’d been so hypnotized, she couldn’t even remember if she’d told Amarie that she’d like her latte iced.
The barista called out their orders. Pushing off from the table, Char joined Amarie at the counter. The beverage with her name on it was indeed hot. Oh well. It wouldn’t kill her to drink hot coffee in the summer. She reached for her latte and her hand b
rushed soft, warm skin as Amarie reached for it too. The other woman smiled, her eyes piercing deep into Char’s.
Charlotte swallowed hard.
She didn’t remove her hand, though.
Instead, she let it linger. She could pull away any time she wanted, after all. Amarie’s little finger swept the curve of her forefinger, sending jolts of warm bliss sweeping through her nerves. Amarie watched her, her touch and expression a question.
In response, Char withdrew her fingers from Amarie’s. She grabbed a cardboard tray and loaded their coffees into it. “Ready?” she asked, her voice thick.
The door opened and Lucas strolled in. “Well, that was fast,” he said, gaze lingering on the coffee tray.
“We’re not together,” she replied quickly.
“Could’ve fooled me.” Holding the door wide, he stepped to the side to let them pass through. Char glanced at Amarie, half expecting to see her forehead knit into a scowl or her lips trembling. Amarie’s smile widened, though, and as she and Char walked out into the sunrise, she nodded to Lucas. He nodded back, a silent exchange passing through them.
Charlotte took her time getting into the driver’s side of the Sunfire. She needed to get her head straight. Around Amarie, she couldn’t think, like she’d had way too much to drink. She shouldn’t have invited Amarie along with her. Clearly she’d sent the wrong signal. She was going to have to talk to Amarie, let her know that she wasn’t looking for a relationship, that the next five days were all about her dream—not some play for the other woman’s affections.
A dream that wouldn’t be fair to Amarie, considering how, if it came true, she’d be leaving town. She couldn’t have Amarie and a five-star NYC restaurant. Life just didn’t work that way.
Chapter 9
Hands limp in her lap, Amarie risked a glance over at Char. They cruised down CT-8 S, the windows of the Sunfire up and the air conditioning on full blast to ward off the heat. Charlotte stared at the road, the spot between her eyebrows creased. Amarie swallowed hard.