by Ash, Nikki
“Yeah, yeah, everything is okay. The baby is still cooking in my oven.”
“Fuck, Bella. What’s wrong?” There’s no way she would know if something was wrong with Charlie, but between her missing and Bella not saying what she called for, I’m about ready to lose my shit. “Bella! What’s up?”
“It’s Gina…she’s dead. She died a few days ago.” My body comes to a stop. My heart hesitating for a brief moment. I’m not sure how to feel about this. Do I mourn? Do I cheer? Isn’t this what I wished for? So why does the reality that the biological mother of my daughter is dead make me feel sick inside? “She overdosed. I saw a post from an old acquaintance on social media. There’s going to be a funeral. Tomorrow. I just thought you should know.”
“Thanks,” is all I say before I hang up. Gina is dead and Charlie is gone. I search the rooms again before I call down to the lobby.
“My fiancée isn’t in our room. Has anyone come down recently and requested a cab?” I don’t even know why I’m asking, it’s not like they’ll remember every guest that comes down to the desk. I glance at the clock and it’s seven o’clock.
“I’m sorry, sir. Quite a few people have requested cabs.”
“Okay, thanks.”
I sit on the bed and that’s when I hear a crinkling sound. Lifting up the sheet, I find a piece of paper with Charlie’s handwriting.
Tristan,
I have to take care of my past so we can have a future. I’ll see you back at home. I’m leaving my heart with you.
I love you. <3
Xo Charlie
What the fuck! I unlock my cell phone and hit her name. It goes to voicemail. I hit end and try again. Voicemail.
Again.
Voicemail.
Again.
Voicemail.
“Fuck!” I pull up my contacts and it hits me. I don’t know anything about her past! She mentioned Texas once, and Georgia, but I have absolutely nothing else to go on.
Suddenly feeling like it’s all too goddamned much, I grab the closest item to me—a lamp—and chuck it across the room. It smashes against the wall, pieces falling to the ground. But it’s not enough. I grab something else and throw it, then grab something else. And I have no clue how long I’m destroying everything in my wake when Mason comes in and finds me. I drop to the ground, my best friend wrapping his arms around me, and I sob. “She’s gone.”
“I heard,” he says, and my head shoots up.
“You heard from Charlie?”
Mason gives me a confused look. “No…I was with Marco and Bella when they found out that Gina died. Wait a second.” His eyes dart around the room. “Where the fuck is Charlie?”
“She left.”
* * *
It’s been twenty-four hours since I’ve seen or heard from Charlie. I’ve looked up every listing with the last name Pratt, but I haven’t gotten anything. I’ve searched every social media outlet for her using Charlie as well as Charlotte. I knew she was hiding, but I didn’t fully grasp the reality of it until I wasn’t able to find her.
I didn’t want to leave the hotel without her, but her note said she would see me at home, so after speaking with Mason and my parents, I made the decision to head back to California. Now I’m standing in front of Gina’s grave with Lexi next to me, holding my hand, and Mason holding her other hand…well, her fingers since she’s still in a cast for a couple more weeks. The funeral was earlier this morning, but I couldn’t bring myself to show up while everyone was here. I almost didn’t come at all, and I’ll never know if bringing Lexi here was the right decision, but I guess that’s part of parenting. Making tough fucking choices and praying I don’t fuck my kid up as much as possible.
So, here we are, staring at a simple grey headstone with Gina’s name, date of birth, and date of death written across it. There’s no quote, nothing but the facts. The grass hasn’t been laid yet, so it’s dirt surrounding the stone.
“Lexi,” I say, bending down, my knees sinking into the dirt. “This place is called a cemetery. It’s where they bury people who die and go to heaven.”
“Like Grandpa’s baby and Charlie’s baby?” Lexi asks.
“Yes.” Lexi nods in understanding, so I continue. “This one here says Gina Turro. She died a couple days ago.”
“How did she die?”
I glance up at Mason and he nods encouragingly. “She was sick. She needed help, but she didn’t get it, and she had to go to heaven.” Some day when Lexi is older, when she asks, I will explain Gina’s drug problem, but today isn’t the day.
“She should have gone to the doctor,” my daughter answers innocently.
“Yeah, she should have. This woman, Gina, who died, she was… she was…” I choke up at the words. I can’t say them. I can’t tell my daughter this woman who gave birth to her and left her was her mom. She wasn’t! She doesn’t even deserve the title. I can’t do it. Fuck! I can’t.
I wrap my arms around my daughter and hug her tightly, all the events of the last couple days crashing down on me. Standing here, in this cemetery, it hits me that my life has come around in full circle and it’s just the three of us, once again.
Mason’s hand lands on my shoulder and he gives it a squeeze. I look up at him and say, “I can’t do it. One day, but I can’t yet.” He nods in understanding, and I stand up, picking my daughter up with me.
“It’s cold out here, Daddy. Can we go home? Maybe Charlie will be home when we get there.”
I give her a squeeze. “Yeah, Lex, we can go home.” She squirms her way out of my hold and I drop her to the ground. She takes off running back to the truck and Mason takes off after her.
Before I walk away, I turn to the grave, feeling the need to say something…anything. “I hope you’re in heaven and looking down on us. I hope you’re finally rid of the drugs and you can watch Lexi grow up. I hope you're finally free.”
As I turn to walk back to my truck, my cell phone rings. Charlie’s name appears on the screen and I rush to answer it. “Charlie?” I breathe.
“Tristan! I need you.” Her voice is pleading and I freeze in place.
Chapter Forty
Charlie
Twenty-four hours ago
Tristan falls asleep and I know what I need to do. I can’t bring my past into my future, so I’m going to have to pull up my big girl pants and handle my past. I watch him sleep for a few minutes, his arms securely wrapped around me. One of the things I love most about Tristan is how protective he is of those he loves. Even in his sleep, he makes sure I feel safe.
Carefully, I move out of his hold, not wanting to wake him up. I dress quickly—not bothering with a shower—and grab my luggage. I find a hotel notepad and write him a note. I know he’s going to worry, but I can’t have him coming after me. This is something I need to do on my own, something I should have done a long time ago. I never imagined I would fall in love and become engaged. Not that it’s an excuse, but it’s the truth. Had I known Tristan and Lexi would be brought into my life, I would’ve made sure the door to my past was padlocked shut.
I get down to the lobby, and instead of asking them to call me a cab, I make my way out front and snag one. “To the airport, please.”
The taxi driver gets me there quickly, but once I’m at the airport I find out the next flight out isn’t for several hours. Using the emergency credit card I’ve had for years in my name, I book the flight. At this point it won’t matter if my purchase gets flagged by Justin.
When I finally arrive in Houston, it’s after midnight. I pick up my rental car and check in to the hotel I made a reservation at. Needing to eat something, I order room service, but once the food arrives, my nerves are so fried, I barely touch a bite. I take a much-needed shower, and before I know it, it’s morning.
Getting into my vehicle, my first stop is the cemetery. I feel absolutely sick that this is my first time coming to visit my daughter, but I would like to believe what Lexi said is true. Georgia is in heaven looking down o
n me. And if she is, she knows I think about her often. I don’t need to be standing at her grave for her to be close to my heart.
I pull up through the gates and park in the visitor parking. Not knowing where my baby girl is located, I need to have someone look her up.
“Good morning,” I say to the gentleman at the desk. “My daughter was buried here a little over a year ago, and I need to know where she’s located.”
“Sure thing, ma’am. What’s her name?”
“Georgia Rae Reynolds.”
The gentleman gives me a quick once over. The last name Reynolds holds significant weight in this town as well as the surrounding city. He doesn’t comment, though. Only types away on the computer. After several long minutes, he looks up and with a perplexed look on his face, says, “I’m sorry, but I don’t have anyone here by that name. Could it have been under a different name?”
After spelling the name out for him several times, he comes to the same conclusion—my daughter wasn’t buried here. It doesn’t make any sense. This is where Justin’s dad was buried. This is where they own several plots. This is the only place she would’ve been buried. After asking for Justin’s father’s information as it’s been several years since I’ve been to his grave—and we only visited it once—I take a drive over. I find his headstone immediately, and next to him are Justin’s grandparents. But nowhere is my daughter.
Jumping back into my car, I take off needing answers. My first instinct is to go to the source himself, but something steers me in a different direction, and about twenty minutes later, I’m parking in front of my mother-in-law’s home. Her car is parked out front so I knock on the front door. Surely, she will be able to explain to me why my daughter isn’t buried where she should be. And once I get that sorted, I’ll be able to focus on the reason I’m here.
The door opens and Frederick, the butler, is standing in front of me. His eyes go wide and he looks nervous. “Mrs. Reynolds, what are you doing here?” he whispers, blocking the doorway.
“I’m here to speak to Hilda. May I come in?”
“Ma’am, should you be by yourself? I think I should call your husband. He’ll want to know you’re here.”
Before I can tell him not to call Justin, I hear a child’s laughter ring through the house and seconds later my entire world tilts on its axis. Two things happen at once: My daughter, my beautiful Georgia Rae, comes running down the hallway, my mother-in-law following close behind, and my mother-in-law locks eyes with me, her face showing one of fear.
What the hell is going on? “Georgia,” I try to shout, but the lump in my throat prevents me from even speaking her name out loud. Clearing my throat, I try again, and this time I get her attention. She stops in place, her eyes meeting mine. “Baby girl,” I whisper at the same time she yells, “Mommy!”
Hilda cuts her off before she can run to me, and pushing Frederick out of the way, steps outside, closing the door behind her. “What are you doing here, Charlotte? Does Justin know you’re here?” My mind is racing. My daughter is alive! She’s alive and breathing and smiling.
“She’s alive,” I say. “I need to see her! Let me through.” I push her out of the way, but the door is locked.
“Charlotte, Frederick is calling Justin. We will get this all sorted. Are you hallucinating?”
I shake my head. “I’m not hallucinating! I know what I saw! Georgia is alive.”
Hilda gives me an incredulous look. “Of course she’s alive, dear, but you shouldn’t be here. You should be getting better.”
“Excuse me?” I take a step back.
“Don’t worry, Frederick knows to call Justin if you show up here. You can’t be around Georgia until you are better. I’m sure he’s on his way. Please just stay calm.”
“What are you talking about?” I’m completely lost and confused. My daughter is alive and they won’t let me see her. I need to get better first? What the hell is going on?
“Hilda, what did Justin tell you about me? Where I’ve been this past year?”
She gives me a sympathetic smile. “You suffered a breakdown. You tried to take Georgia’s life, but Justin found you in time. It’s okay. He’ll be here shortly and you’ll continue to get the best care, and once you’re better you will see Georgia again.”
Oh my God! That motherfucker kept my daughter from me! He staged her death and lied to me about her funeral. That’s why he wouldn’t let me go! And he’s on his way here! What will he do when he gets here? What if he really does have me committed?
Needing to figure this entire situation out, I do the hardest thing I’ve ever done. I walk away from my daughter. Hilda is screaming my name, but I don’t stop. I get into my car and head back to the hotel. Tears are pouring down my face, and I call the one person I should have let in. The one person who would have been by my side through all of this, had I let him in.
“Charlie?” he answers on the first ring.
“Tristan! I need you.” My voice breaks.
“Charlie, talk to me. Where are you? Wherever you are I will come to you.”
“She’s alive, Tristan! My daughter, she’s alive!”
“Okay, baby. Where are you? I’m on my way. We’ll get through this together.”
“Tristan…there’s something you need to know.”
“It’s okay. Whatever it is, we’ll handle it.”
“I’m married.”
The line goes quiet and I think maybe he’s hung up. But a second later, he says, “Okay, I’m coming to you. Just tell me where I need to go.” I give him the details of the hotel I’m staying at and he makes me promise not to do anything until he gets there.
I valet-park my car and rush up to the hotel room. It will be at least three hours until Tristan gets here. While I’m waiting, I try to remember the day Georgia was pronounced dead. My brain is still so fuzzy. I blacked out—although I don’t remember it. I woke up in the hospital. Justin told me she died. I was given medication to calm down. The doctor… it was always the same doctor who gave me the medication. Nobody else saw me but him. And Justin didn’t call him ‘doctor.’ He called him by his first name. Why would Justin be on a first name basis with a doctor he just met?
Pulling up the internet on my phone, I search the hospital directory. His name was Mike. After several minutes, I find a Michael Shelby, director of cardiology. Why would a heart doctor have seen me? I click on his profile and see his picture. Oh my God! I was too out of it to recognize him at the time. This is the doctor who operated on Justin’s dad years ago. The Reynolds family donated a significant amount of money to this department after his dad passed away. They wanted to thank them for all they did over the years to help his father live longer than anyone thought he would with his bad heart.
I locate the number and call him. The secretary answers and says he’s in surgery but she can have him call me when he gets out. I leave my name and number and hang up. Then I start to search the online newspapers for my daughter’s name. The Reynolds family would have placed a huge obituary in the paper if they wanted to make it look like she died. I find nothing. Apparently, the cruel joke is on me.
There’s a knock on my door, and when I look in the peep hole, I see it’s Justin. I back away slowly, not wanting him to hear me, and call Tristan.
“Charlie,” Tristan says when he answers the phone. “I’m on my way. The plane just landed, so I’m only about twenty minutes away.”
“How did you get here so quickly?” I ask confused.
“My dad chartered a plane.”
“Tristan, Justin is here! I don’t know what to do.”
“Do not answer that door, Charlie. I want you to hang up with me and call 911, okay?”
“Okay.” As I’m about to hang up, the door swings opens, the security latch ripping out of the wall, and Justin walks in, glaring at me, with a gun in his hand.
“No!” I scream. “Please don’t do this!”
I know Tristan’s speaking on the other end, but I can’t he
ar anything. “Justin,” I say out loud so Tristan knows he’s in here with me. “We need to talk, please.”
“There’s nothing to talk about! You tried to run off with my daughter, then you took off on me. I saw you with him. I saw you in California living your new life. I saw your slutty fucking mouth on his. Does he know you’re my wife?”
Justin’s hands grip my neck as he pushes me against the wall. With one hand holding me in place, blocking my airway, his other hand lets go and smacks me across the face. My face swings to the side at the impact and it all comes back to me.
That day.
Me packing up to leave.
Justin coming home early and finding us running.
Him attacking me.
Georgia running outside scared.
Me trying to tell Justin, but him blocking my wind pipe.
Him punching me in the stomach repeatedly.
One hard hit to my temple.
My head hitting the table.
Everything going black.
I didn’t just black out! I was attacked by my husband. Georgia ran outside because he was attacking me. Only she didn’t die! She’s alive and he made me believe she was dead to punish me. Only I ran.
Looking Justin in the eyes, I remember the moves Tristan taught me. The moves he insisted we practice each week. It may not stop Justin, but I have to do something. I have to fight for my life. Somehow he knows about me and Tristan. He will never let me walk out alive. It’s him or me, and there’s no way I’m going down without a fight. I spent too many years taking it without fighting back.
I see him lift his gun and I make my move. My hand comes up slicing the side of his neck. It’s not enough to knock him out, but it’s enough that he loses his balance. He wasn’t expecting me to fight back. But I don’t stop there. I reach up and, grabbing his shoulders, kick him in the balls.
“Fuck!” he screams, the gun falling from his hand. It fumbles to the ground and we both eye it. I pounce on it at the same time he does, but I get to it first, and without hesitating, I switch the safety off and pull the trigger. He falls back, his cries for help garbled as I drop the gun.
