Free

Chapter 11

ELEVEN

Charlie

I stand on the front porch of the house I called home just last week, tugging my coat tighter around me. The icy March wind in New England bites at my cheeks, so different from the warm, lazy breezes of the Keys. Overhead, the sky hangs heavy, gray and oppressive, mirroring the weight pressing on my chest.

“You okay, sweet girl?” Mom’s voice is soft, concerned. “You’re not worried Davis is home, are you?”

Dad steps in front of us, his hand on the doorknob, ever my protector. “I’ll go in first, if you want.”

“No, it’s okay,” I say with a small smile. “Davis is on our honeymoon.”

Dad freezes, his brow furrowing. “He went on the honeymoon?” His voice is a mix of disbelief and disappointment.

“You’re kidding me.” Mom’s eyebrows launch into her hairline.

“I wish I was. But yeah. When I texted to ask about a good time to get my things, he made it pretty clear. Said he was ‘enjoying everything French Polynesia had to offer’ and wanted my stuff gone before he got back.”

“He went on the honeymoon by himself?” Dad looks genuinely stunned, the sheer audacity of it beyond his understanding. And I get that. I do. I was equally dumbfounded when I found out.

I snort softly. “Who knows? Maybe he’s not alone. Maybe he brought someone with him.” Like no boundaries Brandi or super fun Serena. “I really don’t care.”

Mom exhales, her breath clouding in the cold air. “Ignoring your emotions doesn’t make them go away, honey. They just get all jumbled up inside, then come out when you least expect it. It’s okay to not be okay.”

A sharp gust of wind rattles the chimes I hung on the porch when we first moved in. Davis hated them, called them noise pollution. I slip them off their hook and place them carefully in the box at my feet, feeling a small surge of pride, like I’m taking back what’s mine.

“Fine. It hurts. I do care. But I know I shouldn’t, so I’m just trying to skip to the part where I’ve processed it all and moved on. Happy now?”

“You can’t fast-track healing,” Mom says gently.

Dad rests a hand on her shoulder, giving me a supportive nod. “Fake it till you make it, though. There’s truth to that, too.”

“And you always told us to smile when we’re down,” I add. “Said it tricks your brain into thinking you’re happier than you are.”

“True,” Mom says slowly, dragging out the word, a sign that she’s got a counterpoint coming. “But you can’t skip the real work. Ignoring your feelings doesn’t make them go away. It’s like pulling the pin on a grenade and hiding it somewhere in your mind. Eventually, it’ll blow.”

Ready to pull the pin on this thing?

Nick’s haunted face flashes in my mind, his eyes dark with a pain he doesn’t talk about. For that brief hour we were together, I almost believed everything would be all right.

Almost.

I push the thought aside—Nick is an emotional grenade I can’t handle right now—and slide the key into the lock.

The door creaks open, and I brace for the onslaught of grief or anger that should hit me, but… it doesn’t. Not really. Sure, the pictures of Davis and me on the mantle make me tear up, and the porcelain tiger he bought me when we started dating brings back a rush of nostalgia of those early days, but compared to how I felt when I lost Nick, this is nothing.

“I don’t miss him as much as I thought I would,” I admit, feeling a strange sense of relief in saying it out loud.

Mom and Dad share a look, something knowing passing between them. “You guys really rushed this whole thing,” Dad says, his voice steady. “Maybe you weren’t as ready to be Charlotte Chaplin as you thought.”

I laugh lightly. “Man, I really dodged a bullet with that name.”

“You really did.” Mom laughs, nudging me with her shoulder. The sound is warm, familiar, and it cuts through the chill in the air.

In the end, I take only what’s mine—my clothes, toiletries, and a few pieces of furniture I didn’t sell when I moved in with Davis. At the back of my closet, I find the box of letters from Nick I’d all but forgotten. They feel heavier than they should, as though they’re carrying the weight of everything unresolved between us.

I leave my engagement ring on the mantel next to the porcelain tiger and that’s that.

The Davis portion of my life has ended.

Our neighbor, Mrs. Smith, steps onto her porch as I lock the door, and Dad hauls the final load to the truck.

She crosses her arms over her chest and refuses to meet my eyes. “Never thought you were the type,” she mutters, just loud enough for me to hear.

The type to what? I ask myself. What does she think is happening here? I lift a brow in question and she huffs in indignation.

“That poor man took you in, gave you a solid, stable home thanks to his hard work. The kind of home you could never provide for yourself, taking into account what you consider a job. And what do you do? Leave that man at the altar with his heart smashed to bits.”

The air leaves my lungs in one sharp rush. My shoulders sag and I stand there, hurt layering upon hurt layering upon hurt. Davis was actively seeing someone else when we started dating and kept adding names to the roster throughout our relationship. He used me as a prop to further his career. And when I found out, he tried to tell me I misunderstood, then lied about me to my friends and family. All of that is enough to make me question humanity at large for a long time. But he didn’t stop there, did he? He told those same lies to our neighbor. Why?

Why would he do that?

Did I truly mean nothing to him at all?

Twice now, I’ve committed myself to someone only to discover I vastly overestimated how they felt about me. First Nick, now Davis.

What does that say about me?

Mrs. Smith sniffs, her disapproval sharp and cutting. “Good riddance is what I say.” With a lifted chin and sharp sigh, she disappears back into her house, leaving the door to slam behind her.

I turn to my parents, blinking away tears. Dad takes the box from my hands, pausing to press a kiss into my hair, while Mom takes my hand and gives it a squeeze.

“I hope it’s raining in French Polynesia right about now,” she says earnestly.

I release a long sigh and squeeze her hand in return. “At least I found out about it all before I married the guy, right?”