I don’t have patience tonight. “That’s because you purposely seek out partners you know won’t ask anything more of you.”
“What do you really think, Alice?” His tone is light, but I feel him looking at me intently.
“I think that one day, when I don’t feel like my head is being crushed under a giant’s foot, we’re going to have a real conversation about your relationship baggage.”
He knows mine. I’ve told him about Oz and Trevor, and the boyfriends in between. I shared my theory that lifelong love is mostly a scam. He didn’t agree.
Charlie doesn’t speak for a long moment. “One day,” he says eventually. “But not right now.”
He extends an arm around my shoulders, giving me a nudge. I relent, settling my head on his chest, and he rubs his hand over my back.
“Alice, I don’t know what I would have done if you’d been badly hurt…or worse.”
I shush him. “Don’t think like that.”
“I feel better now that I can touch you,” he says. “I think it helps get the message to my brain that you’re okay.”
“Iamokay,” I whisper, shutting my eyes. My body is leaden. “But let’s rest now.”
I fall asleep to the beat of Charlie’s heart and even breaths. A lullaby that’s specific to him, to this night.
43
Sunday, August 17
15 Days Left at the Lake
I sleep a long, dreamless sleep, and when I open my eyes, I’m lying in the same spot on Charlie’s chest. I have fuzzy memories of him trying to rouse me throughout the night, checking to make sure I was okay, and me telling him off.
“I’ve learned a lot about you in the past nine hours,” I hear him say now. His voice has been sanded down from sleep. I feel his fingers playing with strands of my hair. I’m only half awake, and I make a grunting sort of noise by way of reply.
“You told me you hated me no less than four times,” he says.
“I regret nothing,” I mumble.
“You’re impossible to move. I tried to roll you off me once I lost feeling in my arm, but you kept rolling back.”
“You’re the one who put me here.”
“And.” I can hear him smiling. “You drool.”
I sit up straight, and stare at the damp spot on Charlie’s gray shirt where my mouth had been. He laughs. I meet his eyes forthe first time this morning. He’s wearing a lazy smile, and his cheek is lined with pillow creases.
“Good morning, Alice.”
There are a few glorious seconds where I stare at Charlie, when all that matters is how handsome and cozy he looks. But then what he said in the car yesterday comes reeling back.
We wouldn’t be good together.
It’s like being dropped into glacial waters.
“It’s not a big deal,” Charlie says, mistaking my expression for embarrassment. He tugs me toward him. “Come back. Is it always this chilly in here in the morning?”
I shake my head. “We should get up,” I say, climbing out of bed. “I’ll make breakfast for everyone.”
Charlie sits as I rush to pull on a sweatshirt and a pair of thick socks.
“No one’s awake yet. What’s wrong?”
