He is kind of quiet, an unhelpful part of her brain pointed out.When he’s not talking about snakes. That’s probably where the “silent” thing comes from—
“Shut up.” She smacked herself in the forehead to drive home the message. “We don’t care.”
When Jean reached the cottage, the porch light was off, like he was trying to hide from her wrath.Joke’s on you,she thought, pounding the door with the side of her fist. Playful knocks were for yesterday’s Jean. What a freaking patsy!
The vision in Jean’s mind had been crystal clear. The door opens. Before Charlie can get a word out, Jean plants both palms on his chest and shoves. And then: the yelling!
But it wasn’t Charlie who opened the door. In a flash, Jean’s entire plan skidded off track.
There was a woman in Charlie’s cottage.
In that first feverish instant, Jean half expected to see Adriana Asebedo in full makeup and spangly stage costume, here to reclaim her man. But this was a face Jean had never watched in news clips or music videos. Her long dark hair was pulled back in a low, normal-person ponytail (not to be confused with the kind that required professional styling), and she was wearing jeans and a faded T-shirt that looked like regular clothes, as opposed to the designer boutique version.
Which made it even worse. This girl was so comfortable with Charlie, she didn’t feel the need to dress up. Not that her big dark eyes and wide mouth required makeup to be striking. Was she another guest? Had Charlie been seeing her this whole time? Did she use gel or were her eyebrows like that naturally?
The angle of those covetable brows grew more dramatic as she stared Jean down.
“Turndown service,” Jean blurted, when what she really wanted to say was,you’re holding his pajamas. Jean loved the faded blue paisley of those old man drawstring pants.
Used to love. Past tense. Had been tricked into sort of liking. Against her better judgment.
“We don’t need it,” the other woman said, polite yet firm. She started to close the door.
“Are you sure?” Jean tried to smile, while also surreptitiously peeking into the cottage. Was that the shower running? Charlie was showering, and this person was here, answering his door? Jean’s hands and feet were ice cold, probably because her blood had stopped circulating. Your heart had to be pumping for that.
Charlie’s lady friend didn’t return Jean’s strained half grin. Possibly she was wondering why a deranged resort employee was trying to force her services on them.
Because I’m too stunned to move. Jean’s pride saved her from the humiliation of admitting it.
“I don’t have any change,” the other woman said, frowning at Jean’s continued presence. “We’ll leave some cash on the dresser.”
The door closed, followed by the sound of the dead bolt sliding into place.
Hildy found her on a lounge chair next to the infinity pool. Time had passed; Jean couldn’t have said how much.
“You and the Silent Storm, huh?”
Jean flinched, less at being found out than the nickname. At least it wasn’t the kind of question that required an answer. What would she even say?Not anymoreimplied that she and Charlie had been together at some point in the past. That seemed questionable at best, considering her “Charlie” didn’t exist.
It wasn’t until the cottage door slammed in Jean’s face that she realized how big a part of her had expected Charlie to make it all better.
Charlie who?he was supposed to say, his face glowy with happiness like she was the best thing that had ever happened to him.Jean, it’s just me. Same as always.
It didn’t have to be a long speech. Actions spoke louder than words. Like inviting someone over for a “special surprise” and then letting your other girlfriend answer the door. Classy!
“I guess he was in Australia, doing some kind of research?”
“Snakes.” Jean roused herself long enough to glance at Hildy, who had claimed the lounger next to hers. “Is that news?”
“The default assumption is always cult, rehab, or plastic surgery. Not that his face needs work.” Hildy tried to pass her huff of amusement off as a cough when Jean glared at her. “Which obviously we hate his stupid face.” She pretended to gag. “Last week there was a rumor he’d been spotted driving a UPS truck in Kentucky. Does he even have the legs to pull off those shorts?”Hildy paused in case Jean wanted to weigh in. “But I guess we know where he really was.” Her voice trailed off, another hopeful ellipsis. “You really had no idea?”
“Nope.” The word tasted like fish oil. There were few things Jean hated more than not knowing the score. “He told me his name was Charlie.”
“Just Charlie?”
“We mostly talked about other stuff.” Snakes. Poker. Sex. The big-ticket items. It had been a game to her, trying to guess why he was there.Way to ignore the clues, Jean-ius!Charlie wasn’t just shy or antisocial, any more than he’d grown up on a freaking family farm. He was hiding from the world. Deliberately incognito.
“It would be weird if he went around introducing himself as the Silent Storm,” Hildy said, as if that were an excuse.
