“They were lies, Alice,” he says, while I scrape the blade over his throat. “It was the only thing I could think of in the moment to protect you. I didn’t want you tied down by me. But I regretted it as soon as you left. I don’t think I can ever express how sorry I am.”
For the next week, we’re inseparable. Apart from when I’m shooting or running errands, we’re together, in Charlie’s home. I know I’ll have to come up for air soon, go back to my condo, return to the pool. And I will. But not yet. Right now, we’re greedy for each other. It’s not like it was in the summer. It’s heady and earnest. There are no more barriers to what we share. Charlie is still full of teasing and smug grins, but there’s no joking when he tells me how much he loves me. I feel cherished and safe, but I also feel like I’m flying.
Charlie’s birthday falls on a Thursday in October, seven days after he’s released from the hospital. As soon as my eyes meet his in the morning, I can tell something’s changed. There’s a lightness in his gaze I haven’t seen since the lake.
“Happy birthday,” I say, my fingers skating over his cheek as we stare at each other in the pale morning light. “You’re thirty-six.”
His smile takes my breath away.
“I made it,” he says.
And I know exactly what he means. Past thirty-five. Past the age his dad was.
“You did.”
“And now you’re here. I must have done something right in a past life,” he says.
I kiss him. “You’ve done plenty right in this one.”
The more I’ve gotten to know Charlie, the clearer it’s become that for all his talk, he doesn’t think very highly of himself. So that morning as we face each other in bed, I tell him everything I love about him. There are the things I knew before. How kind he is. His smile. The way he pokes fun at me but knows when I need to be taken seriously. His aurora borealis eyes. The way he speaks to my grandmother. The time he hung up on my dad and sister. The bow of his top lip. How he follows his mom’s recipes. His honesty. His tree house. His kisses.
And there are the things I’m learning about him now. That he makes his bed every morning. That he comes to life after three sips of coffee. How he organizes his ties by color, has a large collection of fancy cookbooks and a weakness for kids’ cartoons. That he sings in the shower. That he talks to Sam every day.
“That’s a very long list,” he says. “I’m not sure it will ever sink in. It seems impossible that you could feel that way about me.”
“Then I’ll tell you over and over until you believe me.”
I’m on set until midafternoon. When I’m done, I make a quick run to the grocery store before returning to Charlie’s place. His mouth is on mine before I’ve taken two steps inside. It’s a demanding, knee-weakening kiss.
“I got some good news from the doctor earlier,” he says as he unbuttons my coat and drops it on the floor.
I glance at the clock. Sam and Percy have been resting at home with the baby, but they’re coming for dinner tonight for Charlie’s birthday. We paid them a visit when they got home from the hospital, but only stayed for a little while. Susie and I were the only people in the room who weren’t completely exhausted. She’s almost totally bald, but she looks so much like Sam.
“It’s super annoying,” Percy had said, smiling.
“We only have an hour before they’ll be here,” I tell Charlie. “And I still have to cook.”
He winks. “I can work with that.”
Charlie leads me to the bedroom. The curtains are closed, and the space is illuminated with dozens of candles.
“What is all this?” I turn toward his bed, gawking at what’s scattered on the gray velvet coverlet. “Are those rose petals? This is not what I’d expected.”
“Wait for it.” Charlie gives me a grin as he reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone.
Seconds later I’m doubled over, cackling as Rod Stewart’s rendition of “Have I Told You Lately” plays over the speakers.
Charlie shuts off the music, and I straighten, still laughing.
“God, you’re beautiful.”
“God, you’re cheesy,” I say, cheeks straining.
“You like it.”
“I love it,” I correct. And then Charlie kisses me so deeply and thoroughly, I link my wrists around his neck to stay balanced. He pulls back an inch, staring at me in the flickering glow, and the seriousness in his gaze makes my stomach twirl.
“I wanted to do something more romantic than a darkroom.”
