by Ethan Asher
My nerves of steel don’t last long. I spend the next half hour rearranging my desk, desktop, and file folders because there’s nothing on my plate for work except for the walk-through, which isn’t for another hour.
I glance toward Christiana’s office and find that same woman in her office. They’re sitting together on the couch drinking coffee and laughing. Christiana is laughing. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Christiana laugh. If this mystery woman is vying for Lana’s position, then my chances are almost nonexistent at this point.
I grab my purse and leave. There’s no point in me being here, especially when all it’s doing is making me more nervous, so I head to my car and start for Guy’s place. I call Guy on my way, and just like before, he’s able to walk me away from the ledge and back into safer territory. I hate second-guessing myself.
When I finally make it to Guy's house, he's waiting for me on the porch. That overwhelming feeling of happiness bubbles up as soon as I'm close enough to see his smile.
“Hey there, Char—”
I knock the wind out of him as I wrap my arms tightly around him.
“—leigh,” he finishes a few seconds later.
He slides his hand along the base of my skull, up to my crown, his fingertips gently kneading my scalp. Tingles spread from my head, down my neck, and throughout the rest of my body.
“You okay?” he asks after a few moments.
I smile up at him. “I am now.”
“I’m impressed,” Christiana says.
We’ve just finished our blue tape tour of the house, and even though there were a few minor issues that she brought up, it went far better than I expected, much to Andrea’s chagrin. As it turns out, the woman Christiana spent much of the afternoon with was an old friend who was just visiting. She even came along to see the house.
“It’s no easy feat to do what you did in this amount of time,” she says as she looks around the kitchen once again. She clicks her tongue. “And you’ve got a real eye for detail. Everything flows seamlessly together.”
My heart is hammering so fast that it feels like it’s going to burst right out of my chest. Christiana, always sparing with her compliments, is throwing them at me faster than I can keep up.
“It’s more than I could’ve asked for,” Guy says, seeming to sense that my brain is all sorts of discombobulated. He grabs my knee from under the table, and I instantly feel at ease. It’s the first time we’ve touched since our hug a few hours ago. Even though the finish line is finally in sight, we’ve made sure to be on our best behavior in front of Christiana and Andrea.
"I couldn't imagine going with anyone else for this project. Charleigh has real talent. You're lucky to have her," he adds, his kind words melting every last part of me.
Andrea coughs, clearly annoyed that not only did her ploy to make me nervous fall like a lead balloon, but Christiana and Guy are both gushing over my design.
Today is a good day. And as I feel Guy’s hand edge higher up my leg, I have a feeling it’s going to be even better once everyone leaves.
“Yes, we are,” Christiana says. “I think we’re going to have a great one-on-one meeting next week.”
Holy tap-dancing shit on a stick. Is she implying what I think she's implying because I sure as hell hope so. I glance at Andrea and she's bright red. Her hands are wrapped so tightly around her mug that I'm pretty sure she's moments away from shattering it.
I smile and thank Christiana for her kind words. And then a few minutes later, Christiana, her friend Livie, and Andrea leave.
As soon as I hear the front door shut I take a running leap at Guy and he catches me. I squeal with excitement.
“You killed it.”
I’m so overrun with emotions that I can’t speak. So instead, I do the next best thing: plant my lips on Guy.
“Fuck, it’s been too long since I tasted those lips,” he says as we finally break for air. He sets me down on the island, my hands still wrapped around his neck.
“Way too long.”
I kiss him again, and soon his hands are moving across my body.
“Did I tell you how gorgeous you are today?”
I smile into his lips, our teeth gently touching. “I think so, but I don’t mind hearing it again.”
He kisses my jaw, trailing kisses down my neck. My skin erupts in goosebumps as he draws a line with his tongue.
“I think it’s about time you make good on your promise.”
Guy pulls back. “And what promise is that?”
“To christen every single one of these rooms, starting with the kitchen.”
He lets out a guttural groan as I massage him through his pants.
“I think we can arrange that.”
He kisses me roughly, gripping the back of my head as he pulls me closer. His taste is driving me crazy. His scent is dizzying. And I can feel his cock pressing against me as he leans into me.
“There’s one problem though,” he says.
“And what’s that?”
“You’re not naked yet.”
He takes a step back, allowing me to hop off the island. I raise my hands in the air, and he kneels down, sliding his hands along the backside of my calves and up my thighs. He wedges the hem of my dress between his thumb and index finger, pushing my dress off of me as his hands run the length of my leg.
“I’ve wanted to do this since the moment you showed up today.”
“Yeah? What else did you want to do?”
“I think I’d prefer to show you.”
Just as my dress bunches around my waist, there's a cough from behind us. My blood runs cold as my eyes bulge. I look toward the sound and find Andrea staring at me with her phone pointed at us.
“Say cheese, Charleigh,” she says, a wicked grin on her lips.
34
Guy
I can’t believe it. They left. She left. What is she doing here?
“It’s not what it looks like,” Charleigh says, but it’s clear from Andrea’s smile that she knows exactly what she saw.
“I’m not sure the camera agrees, and I’m pretty sure Christiana will have a different opinion.”
The air shifts immediately, as though I’ve been covered with a cold, wet blanket.
“No.” Charleigh’s voice is barely audible, her tone fractured by emotion. She tries to walk toward Andrea but I hold her back.
I turn to her and my heart feels as though it’s breaking into a million tiny pieces. I’ve never seen Charleigh so small and sad. “Don’t. I’ll handle this.” This is my fault she’s in this position, so I’m going to get her out of it.
I turn my attention to Andrea. She's putting her phone into her purse, a smug look plastered across her face. There have only been a few times in my life that I've ever been this angry at someone, but the commonality between those situations is that they hurt the people I most love. My parents years ago, and now, Charleigh. And there's nothing I won't do to protect her.
“What’s your plan here, Andrea? Do you really think showing Christiana this video will have any positive effect on your career? On your position at Florence + Foxe? Because I’m quite sure if anything, it will harm your reputation far more than Charleigh’s. And to be clear, there’s nothing wrong with what we’re doing here.”
Andrea laughs. “Please. I’ll be doing Christiana a favor. She needs to know the real Charleigh. She’s an untethered rule breaker who thinks she’s better than everyone else.”
Charleigh makes a noise as though to protest, but I push back before Charleigh has a chance. “That’s because she is better. And that’s why you’re doing this. You know that you’d never rise as fast as Charleigh at Florence + Foxe, which is why you’re turning to shady tactics.”
I take a few steps toward Andrea, and for a few moments, her smug smile dissipates.
“You’re jealous that you aren’t as talented or driven as Charleigh. Just look around you.”
I spread my arms wide and spin slowly around, taking in
the phenomenal work Charleigh put into this place. Every detail shows her love and passion and dedication, and I could see why Andrea would be insecure. This is Charleigh’s first project and it looks like a seasoned professional with decades of experience under their belt completed it.
“If you think showing Christiana this video will have a positive effect on your career, you’re sorely mistaken. Go ahead, we’ll fight this.”
It takes a few moments for Andrea’s smirk to return, and it’s clear that everything I said went well over her head because she’s still intent on telling Christiana.
“It’s not going to work,” I say.
She shrugs, and after a few moments of silence, she says, "But…I'd be willing to hold on to it." She pauses for a moment and then stares directly at Charleigh. "If you take yourself out of the running for Lana's position."
“She’s not.”
I move to Charleigh and grab her hand. It’s freezing, and when I look at Charleigh, I hardly recognize her. She’s downcast and refuses to look at anything but the floor in front of her. I squeeze her hand, hoping that it might jolt her out of her head but she doesn’t squeeze back. And she doesn’t look up either.
"We'll see about that," Andrea says. "Let me know soon or else I'll be having a chat with Christiana on Monday. And she'll be right. Your one-on-one meeting will be very interesting.”
I’m so focused on Charleigh now that I hardly hear another word from Andrea. I kneel down in front of Charleigh, trying to make her look at me. I grab both of her hands and tug gently. “We’ll get through this. Andrea’s digging her own grave. You have nothing to worry about. We have nothing to worry about.”
But I’m not sure if that’s true. She’s taking this hard, so hard that I’m not sure what to do or how to help her. Her lip quivers and then tears begin streaming down her cheeks.
“I should have known,” she says weakly.
“Should have known what?”
I bring her hands to my mouth and kiss her fingers. They’re like icicles. She rips them from my grasp as she gets to her feet.
"I should have known that this was a bad idea."
The effect of her words is immediate and brutal—a lightning strike that rips right through my soul. I motion between us as I stand up. "You don't mean us."
She mashes her lips and eyelids together as the rest of her body shakes. She spins around and braces herself against the island. I place my hand on her back but she shrugs it off.
“Stop. Just stop.”
I take a step back, uncertain of what to do at this point because the person I care about most dearly in this life is in so much pain and I can’t do anything meaningful about it.
“I know this is difficult, but I want you to think this through. I need you to think this through. We can take this straight to Christiana ourselves, cut Andrea off at her knees. I know it’s against Florence + Foxe policy for employees to have a relationship with clients, but I think we can make a case for an exception. We can do this together.”
Charleigh shakes her head, and after a few moments, turns around. She looks even worse, although hardly a few seconds have passed, and the pain in her eyes jabs me hard in the chest.
“I’m taking my name out of the running.”
“No, you’re not. You know why I know you’re not? Because you’re not a quitter, Charleigh Marie Holiday.” There’s a brief pause. Charleigh seems surprised that I know her name, but she shouldn’t be. I know almost everything there is to know about her, which is why it’s so heartrending to see her like this. This isn’t the Charleigh I know. “I’ve never met anyone so driven and talented, and I’m not about to let you waste it. I’ll take full responsibility for what happened in that video. I’ll make my case to Christiana. She’ll see it for what it is. Love.” I can feel my throat beginning to close, hard lumps forming throughout it. I can’t swallow. I can hardly breathe. I can’t think about anything but this one point.
“I love you, Charleigh.”
Charleigh wobbles and then again latches onto the island for support. She wears her internal struggle on her face. Her chin trembles as she opens and closes her mouth, words unable to surface. Finally, she closes her eyes, rivulets of tears streaming down her cheeks. And then she leaves. I watch her as she leaves, stunned.
When my mind finally comes to, I find myself on the floor, leaning against the island as I watch the last streaks of sunlight disappear across the kitchen floor. I don’t remember the sound of the front door shutting. I don’t remember how I came to this position on the floor. The only thing I can remember is the scent of Charleigh as she passed by me and the enormous empty feeling it left.
My body aches as I force myself to my feet and my skin feels feverish and clammy. I tamp the wick on the candle with my thumb and then leave the kitchen. I thought that Charleigh and I would be sharing this home in a few weeks, but now I'm not so sure. I feel like I just jumped back a few decades when I'd lost everything in one fell swoop.
But I’m not going to make the same mistake this time around.
I hop into my truck and check my phone. There are multiple texts from Jamie that span a period of a few hours.
Jamie: Charleigh’s here and she looks like a complete wreck. What the hell happened?
Jamie: She disappeared with Marissa into our bedroom.
Jamie: They’re still in there…
Jamie: Still there…
Jamie: You’re great at this whole texting thing.
Jamie: Okay, they just came out.
Jamie: Yikes, dude…just heard what happened.
Jamie: You okay?
Guy: About as good as you can expect.
Guy: How is she?
Jamie: I don’t think I’ve ever seen her this distraught.
Guy: I’m coming over.
I toss my phone on the seat, turn on my truck, and peel out, rocks spraying behind me as I gun it out of my driveway. My phone beeps incessantly as I’m driving toward Marissa and Jamie’s apartment. Right before I make the turn onto the highway, I answer Jamie’s call.
“What?”
“Don’t come over. It’s not a good idea right now.”
“Why the fuck not?”
Jamie sighs. There's dead air for a few moments and I swear I hear Charleigh on the other end. But then Jamie speaks again. "I know your heart's in the right place, but Charleigh's head isn't. She just bawled her eyes out for hours, and seeing you right now won't help either of you. She passed out on the couch and from the looks of it, she won't be up until tomorrow anyway. I think it's best if you hold off for now. Give her a call tomorrow when both of you have had some time to think."
“But—why can’t I—” It’s taking every last effort inside me to hold back. I want to argue. I want to plead my case. I want to see Charleigh again, but I know Jamie’s right.
“Fine. I’ll let her recharge.”
But I’m not going to let her run away again because if we can’t face this together, what hope is there for our future?
“Open up!” I yell, banging on the door to Jamie and Marissa’s apartment.
I’ve waited long enough. I’m done waiting. I need to figure out what the hell is going on with Charleigh. She’s been silent over the last few days, and I can’t deal with it any longer.
I bang on the door again, and finally, I hear some movement behind the door. Both Jamie and Marissa open the door, concerned looks on their faces. I know I look like hell. I haven't shaved. I've hardly slept or eaten because all I can think about is Charleigh.
“Where is she?” I ask, pushing by them. “Charleigh?” I call out as I move through the apartment. Jamie tries to grab my arm, but I shake him off.
He says something but I can’t hear him as I duck into a bedroom. I run into him as I turn to leave the room.
He grabs me by the shoulders. “She’s not here.”
I shake my head as I stare at him. “What do you mean? Where is she?”
“For one,” he begins, “I�
��m pretty sure she’s at work. And two, I helped her move into a new apartment this weekend. She’s not staying here.”
The realization hits me hard, and nothing Jamie or Marissa say penetrates my consciousness as I move on autopilot out the door and back to my car.
35
Charleigh
You know the gut feeling you get right before you jump off a tall diving board? Anxiety. Nerves. Call it what you want. It’s the feeling that either pushes you to take the leap or reels you back in.
I’ve been constantly living with that feeling for the last few days. It doesn’t get any better or worse. It wraps itself around me like a coat that I can’t remove. And as I’m sitting here in Christiana’s office, it’s cinching tighter and tighter with every passing second.
I can hardly lift my head, I’m so ashamed of what I’m about to do. I can’t bring myself to look Christiana in her eyes as I tell her that I want to be taken out of consideration for Lana’s job.
It feels like I’m having an out of body experience, or watching someone else’s life being played out on screen. I’m staring at them, screaming for them to make a different choice but they can’t hear me. It continues to play out until finally, Christiana speaks, and I’m sucked back into my body.
“I’m shocked. I really am.”
She leans back in her chair. I glance at her for only a moment because I can’t bear to look at the combination of concern and disappointment on her face.
“Help me understand because there has to be something I’m missing here. Do you not want to be a lead designer?”
“I do, but I think it might be too soon for me.”
“And why’s that?”
Because if I take this job, Andrea will show you the video, and then I’ll be out of a job and a reputation.
“I’m not sure I can handle the workload.”
Christiana sighs and leans forward. "I know you can handle the workload because you proved that you could with this last project. The work you did on Mr. Finch's home is some of the best work I've seen out of someone so young. You have a bright career ahead of you, but it seems like you're your own worst enemy."
