Chapter TWENTY-EIGHT
(Matthew)
Before I left the castle, I checked in with security.
“Is she still here?” I asked, slipping through the “staff only” door in the lobby.
The woman at the desk looked up from the video screens she monitored with a bored look that became all business at the sight of me. “No, they drove her up to the house, sir.”
I studied the monitors. All our guests were aware that public areas were equipped with a state-of-the-art, fully secured surveillance system, but our privacy agreement was legally airtight, allowing our guests to freely indulge without fear of exposure or blackmail.
“Does watching all of this make sex—”
“Way less interesting?” the guard finished for me. “Yes.”
“I suppose too much of a good thing…” I didn’t finish my sentence. Had being with me full-time for twenty-four hours made me too much of a good thing for Charlotte? “Anyway, thank everyone for how they’ve looked out for her, will you?”
“I’ll put it in the log,” the guard promised, and I left.
When I arrived back at the house, Charlotte was in the shower. I knocked on the door, not wanting to startle her.
“Matt?” she called, and I went inside. She peered through the steamy glass and her face lit up. “It’s hard to get lube out of your hair!”
“I know.” I wasn’t a huge fan of that particular tactile sensation. “Did you have a good time?”
She opened her mouth to tell me but hesitated in making the words come out.
“It’s okay,” I reassured her. “I’m not going to get jealous. I brought you here so you could do wild stuff.”
She grinned. “Yeah, I had an amazing time. But also, I’m kind of sore now.”
“Sounds like you had a productive evening,” I teased her.
“I got fisted for the first time ever!” she blurted happily.
There was no other response to that than, “Congratulations!”
She laughed and ducked back under the water. I watched the shampoo suds slide down her hair, onto her back and I wanted to touch her. God, I wanted to touch her. Too much of a good thing.
“Leave it running when you’re done,” I said, unbuttoning my shirt.
“You can get in now,” she offered, blinking under the spray.
“No, I’ll let you have your space.” I pulled my shirt and undershirt over my head and tossed them into the soft-sided laundry hamper under the sink counter.
She stepped out of the shower and reached for a towel, tucking it around her breasts. “Are you going to tell me what you got up to?”
“If you want to know.”
“I wouldn’t have asked,” she pointed out.
It felt strange to share it with her. Which was odd, because I’d had no problem fucking some other woman while I was on the phone to Charlotte. Nothing had changed, but something about it nagged at me. “I met a guy and we hooked up. Nothing half as exciting as what you got up to.”
“Poor you,” she chirped. “I’m going to get in bed, but I’m still keyed up. Do you mind if I watch TV? Can you fall asleep with it on?”
I couldn’t, but I said, “Yeah, no problem,” and watched her leave before I got in and took a quick shower, myself. When I went to the bedroom, she was propped up on the pillows, wearing the silky nightgown I’d given her and clicking through her streaming options.
“I’ve been watching this old show, Cheers? Have you heard of it?” she asked.
“Yeah. I’ve heard of it.” And hearing it described as “this old show” made me want to go into the woods and die so I wouldn’t burden the rest of the clan. I would not tell her that I’d watched the finale on broadcast television with my own two eyes.
I pulled the duvet back and slipped between the sheets next to her. There was something comfortable about having her with me, even when we weren’t having sex. Maybe it would have been awkward to spend this much time with someone I wasn’t in a relationship with, but not when the someone was Charlotte. And I’d never felt so at ease spending so much time with anyone I’d dated or, hell, been engaged to. I’d set strict boundaries about my “me” time. I’d needed to be alone to decompress from being around people, even ones I loved.
Being with Charlotte felt like decompression on its own.
“I think we should probably take it easy tomorrow,” she said, pausing with “che” in the search bar on the screen. “I did…a lot tonight. And I assume you’ve got something amazing planned for your birthday.”
“I do,” I admitted. My birthday party was a highlight of my year, regardless of where it took place. I didn’t always come to Ascend Red, but I always made a huge deal out of my birthday. “Do you think you’ll be back in fighting shape by then?”
“Fucking shape, you mean?” She giggled. “I have two days. I’m sure I’ll bounce back.”
“When is your birthday, by the way? I’m horrible with dates, but I can always have my assistant send you flowers.” It was a half-joke. I was terrible with dates, but any gift I sent Charlotte would be more personal than flowers purchased by an employee.
“October twenty-sixth,” she responded, her face going a little blank, like she was steeling herself against something. “But I don’t celebrate it. I would prefer if people didn’t make a big thing out of it.”
“Flowers would be making a big thing?” Seemed like a weird boundary, but if she truly wanted me to respect it, I would. Still, there was something so unhappy in her eyes. “I won’t send flowers. Can I ask, though—”
“I think it should be obvious, right?” Her tone was hard, sharp. Something that was honed and forged, not grown naturally.
And then I realized. “It’s because of the bone marrow.”
She nodded bleakly.
“That wasn’t your—”
“I know it wasn’t my fault,” she snapped, then immediately softened. “Sorry. It’s a touchy subject for me.”
“I know. I should have realized. And I still said everything wrong.” There had to be some magical phrase to erase the hurt I’d dredged up. “Would it be all right if I called you this year on October twenty-seventh to tell you that I’m so glad you were born?”
She burst into tears.
That was not the reaction I’d been aiming for.
“I won’t, I won’t, I’m sorry!” I didn’t know what else to do, so I put my arms around her. That made her cry harder.
“I don’t mean to be like this,” she sobbed against my shoulder. “I promise, I’ll be fun again in a minute. I need—”
“Whoa, wait.” I took her by the upper arms and held her slightly back from me, so I could look her in the eye. “You don’t ever have to suppress your emotional reactions to be ‘fun’ for me, okay?”
She nodded, but I could tell she wasn’t buying it. So, I pulled her close and kissed the top of her head.
“Listen,” I whispered, stroking her damp hair. “If this whole birthday thing is bumming you out, I’ll cancel my party.”
“Don’t say that.” She sniffled, and I wondered if offering her a tissue to use instead of my shoulder would be insensitive.
But I was totally serious about canceling the party. As much as I loved my birthday, I loved Charlotte a whole lot more.
I loved Charlotte.
I loved Charlotte.
Blood pounded to my head and roared in my ears. Dizziness swept through me. Was it another blood clot? No, it was panic. It was sheer panic.
Oblivious to my predicament, she sat back. “Don’t cancel your party. I’m excited to see what you have planned. I don’t hate other people’s birthdays. I hate my birthday. It’s a monument to what a disappointment I am.”
“You’re not a disappointment.” It came out too fiercely. Quieter, I added, “You’re not a disappointment to me.”
“And you’re the only person on Earth who matters,” she quipped.
“I like to believe so, and I’m glad you’re also on board.”
She sat up, wiping her eyes on the back of her hand. “Do you have some tissue?”
“I thought you would never ask.” I laughed grimly and passed her the box from the nightstand. I took one myself and dabbed my shoulder with it. In case.
“I think I’m just tired,” she went on, blowing her nose comically. “Tonight was a lot.”
“I’m sure it was.” Too much of a good thing. “Tomorrow, let’s stay in. Me and you, being lazy all day.”
“I don’t want to waste your time here,” she began.
I wouldn’t let her apologize further. “You’re not wasting my time. I’ve been here for a while, remember? Hiding out?”
“It does seem like a good place to hide out. If you’re you, I mean,” she gestured around. “Netflix, video games, full-time staff, sex on demand. What else could someone want?”
Mental health services and the knowledge that the woman I love isn’t going to bolt if I ever so much as hint at loving her. I completely believed Scott when he said she didn’t commit to people. “I can even promise to fuck off and leave you alone, if it’s space that you need.”
“No.” She shook her head, her smile trembling at the corners. “Being with you doesn’t make me feel like I need space.” She laughed. “Isn’t that strange?”
“Not at all.” I was glad we were on the same page. “I feel the same way.”
It was as close to I love you as I’d ever get to say to her.
****
(Charlotte)
Breakfast without sexy shenanigans was just as good as with sexy shenanigans, I found. There was still a huge amount of food, though Matt assured me it didn’t get tossed out afterward.
“Anything we don’t touch, the staff gets dibs on.” He motioned to one of the staff members standing by. “And you guys eat it, don’t you?”
“Yes, sir,” the man said enthusiastically. “Like a pack of hyenas.”
Matt laughed at that and turned back to me. “I don’t know what you like, and I don’t want to get up early enough for the breakfast buffet.”
“So, you bring the buffet to me.” It made sense, and I felt better knowing the food wouldn’t be wasted. “Frankly, I’m fine with it.”
“Oh, I’m so glad.” His mouth twisted with suppressed amusement. “It also indulges my Pretty Woman fantasy.”
“That’s a movie, right?” I didn’t get all of his references. I knew for a fact that he didn’t get all of mine. “From like, a million years ago?”
“From like thirty years ago. Don’t be dramatic,” he mock scolded me.
“I’ve never seen it. It’s like a rich guy falls in love with a sex worker, right?” I guess I could see why that would be Matt’s fantasy. “I guess the fairy tale is appealing both ways?”
“I’m not sure how appealing it would be for a sex worker to have a client fall in love with them, but from the billionaire perspective, it’s nice to think that someday I’ll be able to fall in love with someone who isn’t expecting me to,” he said. Then he pointed at my half-empty juice glass. “Need a refill?”
I shook my head and refrained from calling out his redirect. I was more than happy to get off the subject of falling in love. I was teetering on the edge of future heartbreak at the moment, as it was.
Realizing how much I liked Matt hadn’t worn off because I’d banged an extraordinary number of strangers the night before. I’d hoped that it would, but then he’d come into the bathroom and told me about his random hook-up and I’d gotten weirdly emotional. About my birthday, of all things. Which wasn’t coming for months.
“Are you into astrology?” I asked, changing the subject.
“I’m aware that I’m a Cancer. And I’m aware that it’s too damn hot this time of the year to have a birthday party in the Caribbean for a Cancer,” he said, reaching for the butter dish.
“You’re a Cancer, and I was the one crying last night.” I laughed at my own joke, even though he wouldn’t get it.
“Am I supposed to be a crybaby?” He was intently focused on buttering his toast.
“A little bit, yeah. It’s what your sign is known for.” When I had my phone again, I would look up his full chart. “Do you happen to know what time you were born? We could find out your ascendant and all sorts of things.”
“Don’t tell me your side gig is as an online psychic,” he teased.
“I can barely keep a regular gig,” I reminded him.
“Speaking of, how did you manage to get so much time off?” I hoped she hadn’t quit the job she liked to be at my beck and call.
“I told my boss that a billionaire wanted to fly me to his private island, and she was okay with that.” I tapped my temple. “Women know what’s up.”
“She’s probably imagining you down here with some liver-spotted old man.”
“Well, you are about to turn forty,” I teased him.
“Hey, forty isn’t old. And I don’t feel old.” He glanced at his cane. “Well, I didn’t feel old yesterday. Today…”
“Must have been some hook-up.” I reached for another chocolate croissant from the three-tiered patisserie tray. “I shouldn’t make fun of you for being forty. You probably achieved more in your life by my age than I have.”
“The only thing I’ve ever achieved was being born into a rich family.” He took a sip from his coffee. “And I can’t take credit for that either.”
“What was it like, growing up that rich?” I blurted the question before I considered it might be a little rude.
“It was a childhood,” he said with a shrug. “I knew we were rich, but I didn’t have a concept until I grew up and went out into the real world for college.”
“Ivy League isn’t exactly the real world.” Even my parents’ amount of financial comfort wasn’t the “real world.” But I wasn’t there to lecture him about his money.
“It’s not the real world, but at least I learned about it,” he said. “And that shaped a lot of what I do, how I run my businesses.”
I wondered what kind of impact one could have on economic inequality from the hospitality sector. “Oh, yeah?”
“Most of the resorts are certified green. I know it’s not much, but I like to think that if people are flying to get there, we need to offset that carbon emission. Our family-friendly resorts sponsor camps twice a year for underprivileged kids. I know it doesn’t sound like much—”
“It’s more than other people do.” Of course, at the end of the day, he was still a billionaire. “And I assume charity…”
He nodded. “My mom has always been into that kind of thing, but it was always about raising ‘awareness,’ so it was a lot of check writing and fancy parties. I’m not into the parties, but I do write a lot of checks.” He paused and cocked his head. “Why are you so interested?”
Because I need to know that the guy I’m falling for isn’t a horrible person. Even though billionaire status is an instant qualifier for horrible person. “I guess I’m looking for skeletons in your closet that are too big to ignore.”
“Like the yard skeleton on social media?” He chuckled. “Are you trying to ruin our good thing here?”
I laughed. “No. I’m not sure anything could ruin it.”
He reached across the corner of the table and took my hand in his to squeeze it. But he didn’t say anything. And that made my ribs ache and my stomach drop.
I couldn’t keep doing this. I couldn’t keep falling in love. He didn’t plan on this being permanent. I didn’t plan on it. But now here we were, and he was being so nice to me.
“You know, I think I’m going to go for a walk,” I said, pushing my chair back suddenly.
“Ah. I think…” he looked at his cane. “I’m going to have to skip it today. But you’ll be perfectly safe.”
“I know,” I chirped. I’d been banking on that. “I’ll be back later. Don’t worry about me.”
“No worries,” he promised as I modulated my walk back inside so it wouldn’t seem like I was running away from him.
But I was running away from him. Like I ran away from everyone.
If you got far enough away from people, they couldn’t take your hand and crumple your resolve and, eventually, hurt your heart when they realized that you weren’t worthy of their love.