62. Chapter 62
Chapter 62
Charlotte
‘ C harlotte?’
My name, whispered in the dark, broke through the fog that enveloped me. Blinking away the confusion, I took in my surroundings, the worn leather of the black cab illuminated by the lamplights of the street.
‘Aiden?’ I croaked, wincing at the scratch in my voice and lifting my fingers to my neck to rub at the tightness in my throat. An arm tightened around my waist, and it was only then, when I looked down, that I realised just how close we were seated. My side was warm where it had plastered itself against him. Had we been like that the whole trip? Groaning internally, I lifted my gaze and turned to meet a pair of dark eyes that were so achingly familiar that my heart thudded in my chest.
‘We’re home,’ Aiden said softly, his eyes wide and locked on mine. He was close enough that I could pick up hints of his minty toothpaste beneath his signature smoky scent.
‘Oh,’ I responded dumbly, breaking our gaze to peer past him and out of the window. Blinking away the confusing mix of thoughts and feelings, I shifted beside him, sliding across the seat to open the passenger door.
The crisp chill of the night air cut through the complicated comfort of his cologne and standing on the pavement, clutch clasped in my hands, I waited as Aiden paid the driver.
He came.
The whispered words crept, uninvited into my thoughts and I frowned down at my shoes, struggling to make sense of the thoughts that swirled around my mind; a whirlpool of questions that I didn’t have the answer for.
With a defeated sigh, I rubbed at my eyes, my mind drifting back to the bathroom and my relief at the sound of Aiden’s voice. His words had felt like a life raft in the dark, lifting me up and above the waves of my emotions and allowing me to take a breath deep enough to calm myself. He’d been so patient, waiting first for me to unlock the door and then again while I fixed the mess my tears had made of my makeup. He’d just stood beside me at the sink, watching me in the reflection as I wiped away the smudges of not-so-waterproof mascara.
I looked up, wilting beneath the soft yellow halo of the streetlight. My head felt too heavy on my neck and my shoulders sagged under the weight of it, as if the acknowledgement of my exhaustion had been enough to sap the fight from my bones and allow the heaviness to spread and settle in my limbs. I barely noticed when Aiden’s warm hand came to rest on my lower back, encouraging me towards the building as the cab pulled away.
‘Charlotte, I—’
‘Thank you for coming tonight,’ I interrupted, moving out of his reach and into the elevator as soon as the doors slid open.
He followed me inside, stopping a foot away from me, with his back to the closing doors. Concern tightened the features of his face, pinching the skin around his eyes, but it was the unspoken question on his lips that sent my heart racing whenever his lips parted. I looked up at him, drawn by some inexplicable force to meet his gaze. His brown eyes studied my face searchingly until, at last, he exhaled and released me from the hold of his gaze.
‘It’s what we agreed.’
‘I know,’ I said, ignoring the stab of disappointment that pierced between my ribs. Looking past him, I moved towards my apartment. I’d assumed that he would follow me, and the warmth at my back settled my shaking fingers as I searched for my keys.
‘But given what happened last weekend—’ I stopped. I did not have it in me to talk about that right now. ‘Anyway,’ I continued, ‘thank you for holding up your side of the deal.’
‘Cupcake.’
I screwed my eyes shut, bracing for the pain, as the nickname sent a pang of longing through my chest.
‘Can I come in?’
I opened my eyes to find Aiden looking beyond me and into my still dark apartment. Taking a step forward and inside, I turned to face him, one hand stretched out to rest against the doorframe—an imaginary barrier at best.
‘Why?’
‘To make sure you’re alright.’ He spoke as if it were all so simple—So black and white. Irritation prickled the back of my neck, but I squashed it down. I was feeling a lot of things right now, and it wouldn’t be fair to displace any of that on Aiden.
‘I’m fine,’ I sighed.
‘I don’t believe you.’
My gaze narrowed and frustration flared.
‘I don’t care.’
‘Cupcake.’
‘Don’t,’ I bit out, looking past him as my anger melted at the sound of that nickname, leaving only the tired traces of nostalgic longing behind. Swallowing thickly and donning what I hoped was a vacant, unaffected expression, I continued, ‘As of one minute ago, we’ve fulfilled the terms of our agreement. We’re done. You don’t need to call me that anymore.’
‘What if I want to call you that?’ Aiden asked, taking a tentative step towards me.
My hold on the doorframe tightened. I frowned, a confusing mix of emotions rising and swirling within my chest, battling it out as I looked up at the man that I’d read so wrong.
‘Then you don’t get to call me that.’
Aiden flinched. The softness in his gaze washed away by surprise at the barely concealed tremor of my voice. Closing my eyes, I took what was meant to be a calming breath, only to have it stutter out on the exhale.
‘We’re done,’ I repeated, releasing my hold on the door to rub at a spot on my temples where I could feel the pressure building. ‘So, I don’t think we should spend any more time together.’
‘But we’re friends, aren’t we?’ he asked after a beat and my traitorous heart leapt at the hopeful tinge to his words, at the morsel of an indication that he might care for me. But it wasn’t enough.
‘No, Aiden.’ I forced my eyes to his, dropping my mask in a desperate attempt to show him how difficult this conversation was. ‘We were never friends; it was never as simple as that for me.’
‘Charlotte—’ His hand extended into the space between us, halting somewhere in the middle. I watched as his fingers furled and unfurled, unsure of whether or not he was offering a lifeline or a blow.
‘You should go.’
‘I texted Becky on the way here,’ he blurted out, eyes on the door that I’d been about to close. ‘At least let me stay until she gets here.’
‘I’m tired, Aiden.’ Of this night. Of the doubt. Of all of it. ‘I’d like to go to bed.’
‘Please?’ he whispered, his hand still extended towards me. It would be so easy to take it.
‘Fine,’ I said, choosing the path of least resistance and taking a step backwards and into my apartment. ‘But I’m going to bed.’
‘Okay.’ He stepped forward without hesitation, like he was worried if he took too long, I’d change my mind.
I moved through the apartment, not bothering to turn on any of the lights as I made my way towards my room.
‘I’ll be out here if you need anything,’ he called after me.
‘I won’t,’ I muttered, not caring that he couldn’t hear me. ‘That wasn’t part of our deal.’
***
I needed to move. That was the first thought that drifted into my mind as I struggled to force my eyes open. I was too warm, and I was about three minutes away from an embarrassing accident if I didn’t get up now.
With a pained groan, I shifted in an attempt to shuffle nearer the edge of the bed. But an arm tightened around my waist and pulled me back into an inferno’s embrace. I froze, even as the arm pressed into my bursting bladder and lowered my gaze.
My nose crinkled with confusion as I took in the distinctly feminine forearm that kneaded my bladder. Ignoring the wave of disappointment at the fact that it wasn’t Aiden in my bed, I turned in my captor’s grip and straight into a pair of boobs.
Yeah. Definitely not Aiden.
‘Becky?’ I croaked, squinting to get a better look at the sleeping face in front of me.
‘In the flesh,’ Becky grumbled, releasing my waist to rub a hand over her eyes.
‘You didn’t need to come.’
Evidently, I wasn’t as dehydrated as I thought, because when Becky scoffed and opened her eyes long enough to roll them at me, my eyes filled with tears.
‘What about work?’
‘Wedding season doesn’t kick off until spring,’ Becky answered, addressing the worry in my eyes. ‘And they’ll manage at the pub just fine without me.’ A look of uncertainty flickered across her face, one that I might have missed entirely, had it not been so strange to see it on her. With a sigh, Becky rolled onto her back and kicked the covers off, wriggling her legs in a way that jostled the bed and my bladder.
Scrambling out of bed, I was almost at the door when I turned back to her, lips parted on a question.
‘He left,’ Becky said, sitting up in bed.
‘Oh,’ I said, surprised at how much disappointment that single word revealed.
Becky’s eyes narrowed on me but, before she had the chance to speak, I scurried from the bedroom and headed to the loo like the coward I was.
What was that old saying? The eyes were the windows to the soul—I’d never put much stock in it until Becky’s deep blue eyes locked on mine. She’d always seen too much. No one could hide from Rebecca Samaras. It was what made her a good lawyer… and a good friend. But in that moment, it wasn’t just her I was hiding from.
‘He was worried, you know,’ Becky said the minute I returned. ‘We all were.’
‘We?’ I hadn’t heard anyone else in the apartment, but given that I hadn’t even woken up when someone climbed into my bed , anything was possible.
‘Louise came by,’ Becky said, patting a spot on the bed beside her. ‘And Claire called.’
I took slow, measured steps across the carpet and towards my bed.
‘He told us how he found you—’ Becky cut off when I froze in place. She eyed me for a long minute before she rose and came to meet me. ‘What happened?’
‘Nothing,’ I promised, forcing a small, reassuring smile.
‘Charlotte…’ Becky’s shoulders slumped, her clear disappointment eroding the wall of my resolve.
‘I—’ I started, but my voice cracked, and I snapped my mouth shut.
‘Was it Karl?’ she asked.
I almost laughed. The unpleasant conversation at the partners’ table felt like a lifetime ago.
‘Then what?’ Becky asked pleadingly, tugging on my hand and pulling me to sit beside her on the bed.
Silence hung heavy in the air around us. I lifted my head, part of me hoping that she’d feel sorry for me and break the suffocating stillness or change the subject. But she only widened her eyes in challenge, and I knew she wouldn’t let up—she rarely did. And I was so tired; tired of pushing down the memories that flooded my mind whenever I let my guard down and of the emotions that forced themselves up my throat whenever I took a breath.
Maybe if I told someone it would be easier to think about? Maybe then I could take a breath…
Hope fizzled in the darkened cavity of my chest and, gently extracting my hands from her death grip, I pulled my knees to my chest and started to speak.
My voice came out in a monotone of measured words and phrases as I reported on the sequence of events. I didn’t cry, I didn’t tremble, and I didn’t crack. She never touched me while I spoke, and honestly, I was glad for it. I don’t think I could have finished if she had.
‘How do you feel?’ Becky asked once I’d finished.
‘I—I’m not sure,’ I whispered, surprised and perturbed by the numbness that had spread across my chest. ‘I’m just so tired. I don’t feel much of anything else.’
Becky nodded her understanding, slipping an arm around my shoulders and pulling me into a hug. I closed my eyes, the band that had been crushing my ribs loosening as I inhaled the sweet, comforting fragrance of her shampoo.
I woke up several hours later, my head resting on Becky’s lap as she lightly stroked my hair. Pushing myself upright, I blinked the dryness from my eyes. Looking down and towards the soft glow of Becky’s iPad, I watched as animated fish and subtitles danced across the screen. She’d muted it, but I’d recognise that film anywhere.
With a confused frown, I turned towards my bedroom window and the darkened skies beyond it. How long had I been asleep?
‘Feeling better?’
I nodded, moving to sit beside her against the headboard. I did feel better. Lighter, somehow.
‘Okay,’ Becky said, locking her screen and setting the device to one side, ‘so what are we going to do?’
We . It was as if that single word had cracked the layer of numbness that had hardened around me the night before and before I knew it, Becky was passing me tissues and rubbing my arms as I sobbed.
‘Sorry,’ I hiccupped, offering Becky a watery smile. But she only shook her head and patted my thigh.
‘Do you want to file a report?’
‘No, but I think…’
‘You think?’ Becky coaxed.
‘I want to lodge a complaint with the firm.’ I exhaled a heavy breath. ‘I don’t want to let this happen to someone else. You know what he’s like.’
Becky nodded and stood, heading for the living room and returning with my work-bag. My stomach churned at the sight of it, but I rolled my neck and held out a hand to take it from her.
Together, we drafted the email to send to HR, opting to remove any mention of my own feelings about the “incident” and reporting only on what was said and what had happened. I snuck a glance at my friend. Becky’s jaw had grown tighter and tighter as I typed out the events of the night.
‘That okay?’ I whispered as I signed off.
Becky nodded, her lips thinning as she read over my shoulder.
‘Not too “emotional?”’ My heart sank as I said the words, disgusted that I’d used them.
‘I hate that,’ Becky said, her brow furrowed in frustration as she stared at the screen.
‘Me too.’ I gave a half shrug. ‘But you know how it is.’
‘Just because it is doesn’t mean it should be,’ Becky muttered, quoting a line from a film we’d watched together as trainees.
I nodded, my fingers hovering over the mouse pad as panic and doubt spread through my veins. But when Becky noticed, she took my hand, and, interlacing our fingers, we hit “send.”
We stared at the screen for a long time after that. I don’t know what I’d been expecting, but this—the empty inbox—felt anticlimactic.
‘I’m proud of you,’ Becky said, pulling the film back up on her iPad and hitting play.
‘I didn’t do anything.’
‘You did,’ Becky whispered softly as the princess rose to stand on wobbly human legs. ‘You may not know it yet, but you did.’