Chapter 21 #2
“As nice as that sounds, I can’t afford to pay you, and you need health insurance. Benefits. A 401(k). All the grown-up stuff that I can’t provide.”
“Pfft. Adulthood is overrated.”
“You don’t mean that. You know I wish I had more of those things. If I can’t give them to myself, I certainly can’t give them to you.”
“Did I mention I have more than one client? There’s a real estate investment firm owned by a woman named Mandy Lowenstein. She’s good people. You’d like her.”
“Would I?”
“You don’t have to take my word for it. You can meet her yourself.”
Her smile is faint, but it’s there. “I’m not talking about Mandy. I don’t know if I’m ready to let you back in the circle of trust.”
“I understand that, which is why I came prepared.” I open my briefcase and retrieve my laptop. “Would you mind if I set this on your desk?”
“Did you prepare a presentation for me?”
“Will your eyes glaze over?”
“That depends on how many numbers it features. If there’s even a whiff of widgets, I’m out.”
“No widgets.” I tap the keyboard, and a slide deck appears on the screen. I gauge her reaction to the first slide.
A smile ghosts her lips. “This is not at all what I expected.”
The slides follow the story of Princess Leia and Han Solo, except I’ve pasted our faces over theirs. In a series of images, I show her how Han Solo dreamed of piloting the Death Star until he meets Leia and realizes that his true desire lies elsewhere.
“You know that’s not remotely accurate, right?” she asks, once the final slide appears.
“I took a few creative liberties.” I pause. “And I may have had a little help from the fan fiction group.”
This gets her attention. “They spoke to you?”
“We had a video call. I explained the message I was trying to convey, and they offered a few pointers.”
“Traitors,” she mutters under her breath.
“To be fair, they were resistant to helping me, but I was very persuasive.” I don’t want her to be mad at her friends. They definitely had her back, especially Gloria, who threatened to send a colony of sugar gliders to rain shit on my car if I let Cricket down again.
Which I absolutely won’t. I’d sooner fight a Balrog.
“What about the lienholder?”
I shrug. “I have no obligation to them; they’re not my client. They didn’t handle their paperwork properly, nor did they follow up in the five years they were legally given. As far as I’m concerned, that’s on them.”
Cricket slots her fingers together and contemplates the presentation.
“I appreciate you coming all this way to update me.” When she rises to her feet, my heart feels ready to split in two.
Somehow, I keep it together. As much as I want her forgiveness, it has to be on her timeline, not mine.
I also recognize the possibility that it might not happen at all.
“So, you’ll be in touch?” I ask.
“Maybe.” Her tone is every bit as cryptic as the word.
I place the laptop in the briefcase, snap it closed, and show myself out. She doesn’t follow.
The rain worsens on the drive home. Gray clouds grow darker and more ominous, and I catch a lightning strike in the rearview mirror.
I worry about Cricket. I worry about Adam and the kid in the Pikachu top, and the children I haven’t even met.
The rain is torrential to the point where visibility is almost nonexistent. I check my sideview mirror and cross to the left lane, then I swing across the median in a U-turn that would’ve made Former Charlie turn himself into the nearest police station for dangerous traffic violations.
But Present Charlie doesn’t give a shit about rules. There are no other cars in sight. Nobody else to injure.
I press my foot on the gas. “I feel the need for speed,” I tell Hugo. The car wastes no time in complying.
My mind races faster than the Audi as I drive back. What if the camp is completely flooded and they can’t get out?
What if I delayed Cricket leaving her house and she’s cut off from the campers?
Why did I give up so easily?
I should’ve stayed. Fought harder.
The windshield wipers can’t keep up with the intensity of the rain. The wind is howling, and I keep both hands tightly on the wheel to keep the nose of the car from jerking to the side. Apart from a couple semitrailers, I’m the only imbecile on the road.
The car skids through a puddle and nearly hydroplanes.
My heartbeat revs up as I near the exit.
I try to drum up a clever line, one that will win her over, but all I can think of is the part in Star Wars where Princess Leia tells Han Solo she loves him and he replies, “I know.” Leia is stronger than I am. If that happens to me…
No. If that happens to me, it would still be worth saying.
I should’ve said it during the slide deck, but I lost my nerve.
Cricket deserves to know how I really feel, even if she doesn’t feel the same.
Low risk with a potentially high reward.
The cliff jump I’d intended to make before Matt showed up and ruined everything.
I laugh at the idea that this is low risk as I swerve around a fallen tree.
Six weeks ago, I would’ve flagged this as high risk, low reward.
That was B.C. Now I see myself clearly, like I’m gazing at my reflection in the lake, which I would never do because I’m not Narcissus, a god I didn’t even know existed until Bradley told me.
I chuckle to myself as I squint past the deluge.
I feel like a lunatic, but it feels euphoric rather than scary.
Like my sister, I’m high, except my condition is due to naturally occurring adrenaline and dopamine.
The closer I get to the campground, the more elated I am. Cricket is only ten miles away.
Five miles.
I hope she’s safe.
My heart thrums as I make the final turn that will lead me to the parking lot where we first met. I hope I’m being overly dramatic and that the camp is muddy but otherwise fine.
Water rushes over the road. I slow to a stop; there’s a solid chance it’s too deep to drive through. I reverse the car and drive until I spot a possible entry point. If I recall correctly, there’s a dirt path that will take me to the campsite closer to the lake.
I park between two mighty oaks and pat the dashboard. “Sit tight, Hugo. I’ll be back for you. I promise.”
I don’t have an umbrella in the car, not that it would’ve done any good in this storm. More than likely it would’ve blown right out of my hands or taken me with it, Mary Poppins-style.
Raindrops pummel my face as I fight to see ahead of me. Vines and sticker bushes drag against my jeans and I’m grateful to be wearing long pants.
The ground is soggy, and I suspect the local creek has become a raging river. As the cabins come into view to my right, a flash of yellow draws my eye to the left.
It’s the Pikachu kid. He’s drenched and clinging to a post on the bridge. Even in the gloaming, Adam is easy to recognize in his costume. He’s standing at the opposite foot of the bridge trying to coax the kid across to safety as the wind whips past them.
“Nooooo!” the kid wails, clinging more tightly to the post.
Adam’s voice is muffled by the mask as he says something I can’t hear.
“You’re not my father,” the kid shouts.
Lightning crackles in the air, splitting a nearby tree branch in half. The heavy segment falls between them, forcing them both backward and splintering the wood planks in the middle of the bridge.
Water rushes in to fill the gap.
“Stay there!” I shout. I rush toward them before the whole thing collapses. Water spills over the bridge and swirls around the boy’s calves.
“Kid, let go of the post and jump!”
The boy shakes his head adamantly and hugs the post.
“He has sensory issues,” Adam explains. “He wouldn’t let me pick him up.”
“I get respecting the kid’s boundaries, but these are exigent circumstances.”
Adam groans. “Yes, I should’ve told him that in those words. I’m sure he would’ve understood and not freaked out and drowned us both.”
I see his point. A freaked-out kid could result in one or both of them falling in and getting swept away by the rapidly rising current.
The water splashes against the boy’s legs, and I hear him whimper. An idea begins to take shape. “Hold on.”
As I start forward, Adam grips my arm. “What are you doing?”
“I’m going to jump in that gap.”
“Are you nuts? You’ll get swept away.”
“I can manage it. Trust me.”
“Let me guess. You were captain of the men’s swim team in law school.”
“Something like that.” I jump into the empty space and steel myself against the cold as water engulfs my lower half. “What’s your name?”
“Nathan.”
“Nathan, I’m Charlie. I’m going to help you across, okay?”
Nathan shakes his head like a wet dog. “Don’t pick me up.”
“I won’t, I promise.”
Gripping the plank near Nathan, I lower my chest to the water and kick out my legs, resting my shins on the separated half to form a human bridge. Water rushes over me and fills my nostrils.
Adam claps his hands. “Come on, Nathan. You can do it, buddy.”
I feel his small feet pound along my spine and then a relieved whoop from Adam. I roll to the side and tuck in my knees, switching to a seated position on their side of the broken bridge. Careful to maintain my balance, I pull myself to my feet.
“Charlie!”
I whip toward the frantic sound of Cricket’s voice. Her hair is matted to her head, and her clothes are soaked to the point of sticking to her skin.
She has never looked more beautiful.
I’m neither a rock nor an island. I’m flesh and bone with a heart that beats for her. God, that sounds so romantic. I wish I’d said it out loud, so she could’ve heard it. Maybe if I’d put that in the slide deck, she would’ve said yes to me right then and there.
When she rushes into my arms, I forget all about how I want to present myself and instead I’m just present.
“You came back,” she half whispers.
I tuck wet strands of hair behind her elf ears. “I never really left.”
I couldn’t believe my eyes when I spotted Charles Owen Frederick Thorpe IV, Esquire, soaked to the skin, rescuing Nathan.
He didn’t even hesitate. He dropped those Gucci loafers straight into the water like he was barefoot.
The Charles Thorpe who I first met wouldn’t have dared to risk damage to his designer shoes.
I pluck wet strands of hair from my face to see him better. “Why are you here?”
“Adam and Nathan needed help.”
“I don’t mean the bridge. I mean camp. I thought you left.”
“The storm… It was bad and I wanted to…” He trails off.
“You wanted to what?”
“To make sure you’re safe.” His voice cracks with emotion.
“We’re fine,” I tell him. “Everyone’s fine.” I don’t mean to, but I start to cry. “You came back for nothing.”
“No, I didn’t. I came back for everything. I came back for you.”
Next thing I know his hands are cupping my face and he’s kissing me.
I thought our Skinny-Dipping Kiss in the lake was the best kiss, but this one blows Skinny-Dipping Kiss out of the water, pun fully intended.
This kiss is a Princess Buttercup and Westley reunion level of epicness.
There are no bad guys to defeat, no villains to vanquish, just two people who needed to get out of their own way.
“Ew, gross.”
My lips detach from Charlie’s long enough to give Nathan a firm look. “This man saved your life. He deserves to be rewarded.”
“Then give him a twenty and call it a day, because whatever this is, it’s disgusting.” He walks away, shaking his head and muttering to himself.
“Let’s get you indoors to dry off,” Adam says, ushering him toward the cabins.
“Give him a couple years,” Charlie says and slides his arms around my waist. “Then we’ll see how he feels about this.” He leans down and presses his forehead against mine. “I’m sorry, Cricket. You have no idea how much.”
“I have a bit of an idea. You made a slide deck with doctored images without using AI and you drove all the way back here in a storm.”
He could’ve been swept off the road. He could’ve died trying to get to us.
To me.
“I’m sorry too,” I tell him. “I could’ve handled things better. The fact that you didn’t send that lien straight to LandStar showed me that I could trust you. Between Patrick and Matt showing up and the ghost of my father’s bad choices, I guess I fumbled the pitch.”
“Those are two different … never mind.” He hooks an arm around my waist and pulls me close, drawing me taut against his torso. “I love this camp, Courtney Abernathy, but more importantly, I love you, and I want to do whatever I can to contribute to your happiness.”
I feel the pounding of my heart as he holds me close. “You can start by getting us somewhere dry.”
He leads me to a canopy of trees. “Better?”
I nod. The storm seems to be fading as we speak. I spy a sliver of blue sky in the distance.
“I’m ready to give us a chance if you are,” he says.
“You’d have to travel back and forth to the Poconos.”
“I like to drive.” He holds my gaze, and I am in danger of being swept away by those Caribbean eyes.
“It might make sense to spend weekends at my house,” I say.
“Or maybe even half the week,” he says. “And if things don’t work out, I can leave you in peace, no mess.”
I narrow my eyes. “Why wouldn’t things work out between us?”
He drops another kiss on my eager lips. “A contingency plan. Any decent lawyer has one. If you’d rather I sell my house to convince you that I’m serious about you…”
“Don’t be silly. I think it’s a good plan.”
“Mark this day down, folks. Cricket Abernathy gave me a compliment.”
“Oh please. I’ve been complimenting you since the day we met. Don’t you remember how I mentioned your nice car?”
“You called it a douchemobile.”
“Okay, then what about your suit?”
“You shit all over it.”
“I believe that was Buffy.”
“Yours was metaphorical.”
I tilt my head back to look up at him. “Are you sure this isn’t a last-ditch effort to get your grubby hands on my property?”
“I’d rather put my grubby hands elsewhere.” He slides them down to covet my backside.
“All right, counselor. Then I accept your generous offer.”
When he kisses me again, my mind goes blank. I forget all about the storm and Nathan, about Patrick the Prick and Matt Lyman, LandStar, and the money that would’ve changed my life.
After all, I don’t need money to change my life when Charlie Thorpe already has.