“I don’t know.”
“Charlie.”
“What?”
She pressed her lips together, like she was debating how much to tell him. It was a look he knew well, the samewill Charlie be able to handle thiscalculation she’d been making since he was a kid. “I’m sorry,” she said at last. “You deserve better.”
The worst part was that Mugsy sounded so sure, not a shadow of a doubt in her mind. Compared to that kind of certainty, Charlie’s confidence had more holes than a colander. All those years of taking Mugsy’s word for it, of trusting that she knew better, that his perceptions were never quite right, pressed down on him.
“Charlie—”
“I know we’re in a hurry.” There was no need to prolong a conversation that was painful for both of them. Mugsy had never liked talking about emotional things, and right now he was nothing but feelings. It was as if he’d been holding a winning lottery ticket that turned out to be Monopoly money. He usedthe excuse of grabbing a handful of clothes to turn his back. “I need to change.”
Closing the bathroom door, he leaned his back against the wall, slowly sinking to the floor. He felt like a shriveled balloon, abandoned in a corner days after the party.
Why would someone like Jean want to be with him? She was the most vivid person he’d ever met, a scarlet macaw of a girl, when he was a plain house sparrow. Of course she was only interested in him as a story to tell her friend, who could sell it to the world.
One of the towels slipped off the rack, landing on Charlie’s head. He pulled it lower, covering his face. Was it from the stack Jean had brought him, that first night? Maybe Mugsy would let him take it home, as a memento. He pictured himself trying to explain that he wanted to steal one of the resort’s towels, against all sense of personal honor or hotel guest ethics.
Why do you want to remember her?Mugsy would ask. (Even in his imagination, the words were in her voice.)
Because… this was the happiest he’d ever been in his life. Even if it wasn’t real.
Charlie sucked in a shaky breath, thinking he might catch a hint of Jean’s scent, but all he got was a mouthful of cotton. Choking, he pulled the towel away from his face, dabbing at his eyes before wiping his nose.
Oh great. Now he’d ruined the first thing she ever gave him with tears and snot. How typical of him, making a mess of everything.
A loud clunk sounded from the other side of the wall, followed by something heavy rolling across the floor. He needed to get out there before Mugsy tried to carry all his luggage herself. Not that she wasn’t strong and capable, but because it would be rude not to help.
The problem was that Charlie didn’t trust himself to hold ittogether, and he hated for anyone—even Mugsy—to watch him fall apart. It felt like that would confirm all the worst things people had ever thought about him.
Crawling on his knees across the tile floor, Charlie reached the walk-in shower. He turned on the spray full blast. A trick he’d learned years ago was that the noise of the water drowned out the sound of crying, washing away tears as fast as they could fall.
The showerhead was the fancy kind that released a gentle rain of droplets. Lowering his head, Charlie waited. Rivulets ran down his shoulder blades, but for some reason, the tears wouldn’t come. He was a block of ice, the warmth of the water unable to melt his frozen core.
I don’t want to cry in the bathroom alone. It felt backwards and wrong, like putting on a pair of shoes he’d outgrown. He’d truly believed sad and lonely Charlie was behind him. New Charlie wanted to tell Jean what he was feeling, because she unlocked something that made it easier to talk instead of keeping everything inside.
But Jean wasn’t here. She would never be with him again.
Okay, that did it. The tears were flowing now.
Adriana’s New Man Is an Aquarius!
The Stars in Our Stars: Celebrity Horoscopes
What does that mean for our girl? He’s creative, smart, a free thinker, but hopefully not too wishy-washy. Aquarius lovers are fresh and fun, but it can be a struggle to pin them down. Sometimes they get a little too in their head, and who wants distance when you’re in l-o-v-e?
Sound off in the comments: Is he a keeper or water under the bridge?
Chapter 11
“I am so mad,” Jean informed the empty darkness as she hurried across the grounds. Not that she needed to hype herself up. If she were a kettle, Jean would be seconds from a full rolling boil.
How dare Charlie deceive her? How dare he ruin what they had by not being who he said he was? Or being who he didn’t say he was. Same difference.
“Oh, I’m sorry. Did I say Charlie? I meant CharliePike. Beer Bachelor. Dater of pop stars. Snake scientist, my ass.”The Silent Freaking Storm—she cut off that thought before it could take root. Jean had no desire to contemplate another woman’s lyrical ode to Charlie’s tongue.
And to think she’d been worried about going easy on him.
