36. Chapter 37
Chapter 37
CHARLOTTE
I t’s after noon by the time I get back to the dorms after tea with my father, which means the girls are already at the game. Ann Arbor plays Ohio State today, and though it should be a good game, I couldn’t bring myself to go. I’m not sure I can handle seeing Chris in his uniform, knowing he probably doesn’t want me there.
I plop down in the chair behind my desk and my gaze immediately falls to the playbook. I toy with the edge of the notebook while I think about everything we’ve been through. This whole time, Chris has been the one pursuing me, and even though I fell for him, my fear got in the way. I’d been too scared of becoming my mother, too afraid he’d wake up one day and realize I’m not enough.
But all of that is just bullshit. Because I’m not my mother. And I am enough.
I flip the playbook open, biting my lip as an idea sparks to life. Chris completed every single play in this book. Except for one: The grand gesture. Seeing as how I’m the only one who has anything to apologize for, it only makes sense that I be the one to deliver it, so what if I finished the playbook for him?
I glance at my alarm clock and note the time. If I hurry, I can make it before halftime, but if I’m going to do this, I’m going to do it right. I might not have a lot of time to prepare, but a grand gesture means I need a declaration of my love.
Chewing on my lip, I mull over my options as my gaze sweeps over the room. My box of calligraphy supplies and markers catches my eye, along with the poster board for my science class, and I smile.
Retrieving the large white poster, I tear the photos off it, then flip it over and use a marker to write a message especially for Chris: Chris Collins is my #1 pick. With any luck, I can get his attention from the sidelines. Otherwise, I’ll have to wait until after the game.
Once I’m satisfied with the poster, I jump to my feet and make a beeline for my closet, flinging the doors open and yanking out my Griffins football jersey?the one with his name and number on the back. I purchased it after the weekend he stayed at my mother’s house and have been waiting to surprise him with it. Seems now is the perfect time.
I scramble to change, then dig in Samantha’s makeup bag, finding her face paint from Halloween, and draw a big blue and orange number twenty-four on my cheek, then take one last look at myself holding the sign in my floor-length mirror.
It might not be a Romeo and Juliet level grand gesture, but I look like the girlfriend of AAU’s wide receiver, and the reference to football on the sign is cheeky and cute. Besides, the star- crossed lovers died in the end, so maybe when it comes to grand gestures, keeping it simple is the way to go.
With a deep breath, I swipe my keys off the counter and head for the door with a knot in my chest. “Here goes nothing.”
It’s the bottom of the third quarter by the time I arrive at the game, but there’s no sign of Chris.
I scour the field for him, searching the bench and the sidelines. I even watch the game for fifteen minutes before I concede defeat because there’s no sign of number twenty-four anywhere.
“Where the hell is he?” I mutter. I’m mystified at why he’d miss an important game such as this, but if anyone will know why he’s not here, it’s Brynn.
I trudge up the stands of the student section, feeling conspicuous with my massive sign as I climb over a group of girls to reach my friends. I can feel the weight of Brynn’s gaze the entire way until I finally plop down in the empty seat beside her.
With a huff, I turn to her to find her smiling as her violet eyes dance over my getup. “You look adorable.”
“What’s with the sign?” Liz asks, peering over Brynn to see it.
With a sigh, I turn it toward them so they can read what it says.
“Aw.” Brynn places a hand over her heart. “That’s so sweet.”
“He’ll love it,” Liz says before she and Brynn exchange a knowing look.
“Yeah, it’d be a real hit if he were here. Where the heck is he?” I ask, disappointed when Brynn shrugs.
“I don’t know,” she says with a long face.
“What do you mean you don’t know? He’s a college football player. Even if they get injured on the field, they get back out there. Where could he possibly be?”
“I have no clue. We got here right as the game was starting and there was no sign of him. Wherever he went, he was already gone.”
“Unless he never showed at all,” Liz says.
I exhale, sinking at the news as I stare numbly out at the football field. “I had this idea of finishing the playbook and making this grand gesture, but I guess I got ready for nothing.” Because he’s not here, and now he’ll probably go another week avoiding me. “It was a dumb idea anyway,” I say, with a shake of the head.
“No, it wasn’t,” Brynn says.
“I think it’s brilliant,” Liz chimes in.
“Thanks, guys.” I inhale, putting on a brave face.
No point in getting upset when all I did was dress for him and make a sign. It’s not like I picked out a ring and planned some grand proposal.
Moisture stings the back of my eyes, and I curse myself for getting so emotional. I never cry, and yet I’ve cried enough tears this week to last a lifetime.
Get a grip, Charlotte.
Focusing back on the football field, I try to watch the rest of the game, so as not to worry the girls. The last thing I want to do is bring the mood down but it’s hard to concentrate when my mind is buzzing with all the things I want to say to the man who seems intent on avoiding me.
When there’s only a few minutes left in the game, I make an excuse about wanting to beat the crowd out of the stadium and head back to the dormitories. I take the long route around campus, walking the winding paths between lecture halls and pausing to stare at the massive water fountain in the courtyard before finally heading to Hyde Hall.
I push through the doors, saying hello to the resident counselor manning the desk as I turn down the girls’ wing and pass through the lobby, when I halt in my tracks.
There, sitting against my door is a lone figure, head back, eyes closed like he’s been there a while. “Chris?” My voice is a quiet rasp, a complete juxtaposition to the thrashing of my heart inside my chest.
His head lifts, his ice-blue gaze rounding as it slides over me. First to the jersey and the number on my face, then to the sign in my hands. A broad smile stretches over his face, one I’ve thought about countless times in the last five days. “I guess I don’t need to ask where you were,” he says, pushing off the ground and getting to his feet. “How ironic that you go to the game in search of me, and I skip it in search of you. Nice outfit, by the way. And the sign?” He shakes his head as he closes in on me. “So fucking cute.”
My forehead creases, pondering everything he just said while my heart leaps inside my chest. “I don’t understand. What happened? Why weren’t you there?”
“Let’s just say I barfed all over Coach Greene’s shoes, and he was so disgusted he told me to get my ass the fuck away from him.”
My mouth drops and my hands flutter over him. “What? Are you okay?” I press the back of my hand over his forehead to check for a fever. “Are you sick? Is it food poisoning?”
“I’m fine.” He grabs my hand and gives it a little squeeze. “Just anxious because I had no idea where the hell you were. I guess I should’ve figured there might be a chance you’d change your mind and go to the game, but when I tried calling you and got no answer, I didn’t know what to think.”
I gasp, then reach down, patting my pockets. “I was in such a hurry to get out of here, I must’ve forgotten my phone.” It’s just my luck he’d be here looking for me the one time I’m gone when I’ve been dying to see him all week. Now that he’s here and I’m staring up into his eyes I feel like I have a million and one things to say and no idea how to say them. “I found your playbook,” I blurt.
Chris shoves a hand through his hair with a little laugh. “Uh, yeah. About that . . . Sorry?” He winces, and I realize he thinks I’m mad.
“I’m not mad.”
“You’re not?”
“No.” I shake my head. “I was devastated when you broke up with me.”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” He raises his hands, a crease between his brows. “When did I break up with you?”
“At my mother’s,” I say, unsure of why he’s acting like this is news. “You were mad at me, understandably so, and you said you can’t do this .”
His face falls. “I was upset and needed to cool off, but Lettie, I never broke up with you. I would never . . .” He curses under his breath. “I can’t believe you’ve been thinking that this whole time.”
“But if you didn’t break up with me, then why did you go MIA? Why didn’t you answer any of my calls or?”
The words die in my throat when he reaches out and cups my face in his hands. “I’m sorry I went silent on you. It was never my intention. Shit, Lettie, had I thought you assumed the worst, I wouldn’t have done it this way, but I was trying to work some things out. I wanted to surprise you. Did you know I went back to see you at your mother’s the morning after our argument?”
Hope soars in my chest. “You did?”
“Yeah, I did.”
“So, I was miserable these last five days thinking we were over when we really weren’t?”
He shakes with quiet laughter. “Pretty much.”
I smack him in the arm. “Chris! Where were you?”
With a chuckle, he lowers his head so he can meet my eyes. “Do you wanna know why I made myself barf so I could miss the game?”
“Why?”
“Because I had a one o’clock appointment at New Hope Rehabilitation Center to move your mother into her room.”
I blink up at him, confused. He may as well be speaking a foreign language for how well I understand what he’s trying to tell me. My mom went to rehab? “I’m not following . . .”
“I don’t know what you said to your mom, but when I stopped by, she asked me for help. So, we talked about it, and together, with the help of all our parents, your mother got into a rehabilitation center that specializes in chronic depression and emotional trauma.”
“Wait.” I grip his arms, needing to anchor myself. “You’re telling me my mother went to a live-in facility for her depression? On her own?” I choke out. “And you skipped your game for it?”
He smiles softly, brushing my bangs out of my eyes, his touch light as a feather. “She wanted to do this for you. I just helped facilitate it.” Reaching out, he takes my hand and lifts it to his mouth, brushing a kiss over my knuckles. “And if it’s not already clear, I’d do just about damn near anything to make you happy.”
Unable to find the words to tell him how much this means to me, I cup his face in my hands and close my mouth over his while I let my body do the talking for me until he pulls back, hitting me with his signature grin.
“As much as I’d love to stay here and kiss you all day, if you want a chance to see your mom, we need to go now. Once she starts rehab, she’s not allowed visitors for a couple of weeks.”
“I get to see her?”
“Lettie,” he runs a hand over my hair, “do you really think I’d send her off for several months without giving you a chance to see her first?”
Warmth spreads in my chest, filling me until I’m bursting with it. “I . . . I don’t know what to say. I’m . . .” Stunned. Flabbergasted. Awestruck. Grateful. Hopeful. “So damn in love with you.”
Chris’s gaze heats as he reaches out and pulls me into his arms, holding me close. “I’m in love with you too, every single thing about you.” Then with a little laugh, he kisses the side of my head while he rocks me in his arms. “In fact, I’m kind of obsessed with you, if you haven’t already noticed.”
“Here I was thinking I’d complete your grand gesture for you, when you finished the playbook all along.”
“Pfft.” Chris pulls back and bops me on the nose. “Doubting me was your first mistake, Lettie girl, because I always finish what I start. Now,” he says, taking my hand and tugging me down the hall. “How about we complete your happy ending?”
Chapter 38
CHARLOTTE
I tighten my hold on Chris’s hand while I grip the large envelope with my other as we step onto the front porch. A couple more feet and Chris will reach out, pull open the door, and . . .
Spinning on my heel, I make a beeline for his car like the coward I am, but not before two strong hands grab my arms and spin me back around until I’m staring up into eyes so pale blue, they’re like a cool drink of water.
“Where ya goin’?” His lips quirk.
“I can’t do this.”
“Yes, you can,” he says firmly.
Panic grips my chest. “What if she hates me?”
“She doesn’t hate you.”
“Ugh.” I nearly stomp my feet, my gaze drifting ominously toward the door. The last time I was here I almost felt like a part of the family, but this time, all I feel is . . . remorse. “You don’t know that.”
“I do.” He dips his head, catching my eyes once more. “My mother raised six boys. Do you really think we never told a lie or made a mistake?”
“I dunno,” I mumble, knowing he’s right. Barb isn’t the type to hold a grudge.
“Think of it this way,” he slides his hands up my arms to play with the sides of my hair, “I love you, so she automatically loves you.”
“I don’t think that’s how this works.”
He leans down and kisses the tip of my nose. “It’s definitely how this works, but even if it wasn’t, she’d still love you for you. Because you’re fucking—”
“Awesome.” I sigh, dropping my forehead to his chest. “I know. I just . . .”
“You made a mistake, and honestly, it was relatively small one. She understands. Trust me.”
I glance up, staring into the eyes of the man who I can honestly say would never lead me astray, and I nod. “Okay. It’s still gonna be super awkward, though.” Because seeing your boyfriend’s mother for the first time after you lied and tried to sabotage her relationship is bound to be a bit uncomfortable.
Chris laughs and hooks an arm around my waist, steering me back toward the door. “Come on, you big baby. She’s waiting for us, and she’s making French toast. Do you know how much I love French toast?”
“You love everything edible,” I grumble.
“Including you.” He winks, and my insides melt.
Great. Now I’m thinking about Chris and his mouth as we step inside his house. Cheeks flaming, I focus straight ahead as Chris calls out: “Mom, we’re home.”
We’re home. God, I like the sound of that.
“I’m back here in the kitchen,” she answers as we cross the living room.
“Hey, Lettie!” Tucker jumps off the couch and races toward us, his blue eyes shining like the sea. “We just got the new Madden game. You wanna play?”
I glance up at Chris with a dubious expression, and he grins. “It’s a football game on Xbox.”
From the other end of the couch Tyler scoffs. “He only wants you to play because he keeps losing, and he thinks he can beat you.”
A red-faced Tucker turns on him. “Nuh-uh. That’s not true.”
“Is too. You’re a sore loser and have been crying all morning about being unable to beat me and Joey at it. You think she’ll suck because she’s a girl. Just admit it.”
“It’s not true,” Tucker says again, turning to me with his arms crossed over his chest.
“It’s okay, Tuck. In all honesty, I probably do suck at video games, but not because I’m a girl, just because I never play.”
Tucker beams, lighting up like a Christmas display and erasing my nerves. “So, you’ll play with me?”
“Sure.” I can’t help but smile. “But it might have to wait until after breakfast because I have to talk to your mom first.”
“Yes!” Tucker pumps a fist in victory, then jumps up on the couch next to his brother.
“You’re such a butt kisser,” Tyler grumbles.
“Am not!” Tuck glares at him.
“Are too.”
“Er, maybe I should break this up,” Chris says, eyeing his brothers.
“And how do you plan on doing that?”
Chris turns to me, his expression telling me I should already know the answer. “Beat Tyler at a game of Madden in record time, so he shuts up.”
“Such a teaching moment,” I say, patting him on the shoulder.
“Besides, that’ll give you and my mom a chance to talk.” He flashes me a meaningful look and the nerves return, tightening a knot in my chest.
“Yeah, sure.” I nod like a deranged bobblehead. “Good thinking.”
Chris laughs and places both hands on my shoulders, then spins me around and whispers, “Talk to her.” Then he slaps me on the ass.
With a yelp, I hurry through the living room toward the kitchen. With any luck, Bailey, Quinton, or Joey will be here, and this conversation will have to wait.
Peeking my head inside, I see no signs of Chris’s other brothers, only Barb standing behind the stove humming a cheerful tune.
Shit.
Exhaling, I take a deep breath, readying myself for some good old-fashioned groveling when she lifts her head and meets my eyes.
A wide grin splits her lips the second she sees me, and the knot in my stomach loosens enough to rise to my throat, putting me in a chokehold. “Hi, Charlotte, honey. Come in. Have a seat.” She waves me toward one of the seats in front of the kitchen island and like an obedient dog, I listen.
My heart pounds in my throat as I sink onto one of the stools at the same time Barb sets her spatula down and comes toward me. “When Chris called and said you two were stopping by for breakfast, I was thrilled. How’s your mom getting on?”
It’s the first time I’ve see her after I tried to turn her against my father, and she asks how my mother’s doing in treatment? God, I’m such a jerk.
“Um, she’s doing okay. I’ve only spoken with her once. The first month is pretty intensive, so they don’t allow visitors or a lot of phone calls.”
Barb nods, her expression pensive. “That makes sense. Still, it must be hard. I’m sure you’re worried.”
Barb gives me too much credit. The truth is, I’m relieved.
“Yeah.” I play with the edges of the envelope in my hands and glance behind me, hoping Chris might sweep into the kitchen and save me, but the sounds of the boys squabbling from the living room assure me he won’t. “Um, actually, Barb there’s something I need to talk to you about.”
“Oh?” Barb wipes her hands on her aprons and abandons the skillet on the stove for the stool next to mine. “What is it?”
“Actually, it’s more just something I need to say, a clearing of the air so to speak.”
“Okay.” She stares at me, expectantly, her gaze soft.
“I’m sorry,” I blurt.
Barb smiles and pats me on the hand, and I can tell by the look on her face she’s going to let me off the hook, but I don’t want her to. As much as I’d like to pretend I wasn’t a bitch to her, I can’t. I have things I need to get off my chest, because this heavy weight won’t lift until I do. And because I’m in love with her son, and that means loving all of him, including his family.
“I’m sorry for how awful I was at dinner. For lying to you and making it seem like my father had ill intentions. For giving you guys a hard time about the wedding.” I wince, and Barb’s mouth curves in a soft smile. “I just hope you know it had nothing to do with you personally.” My words come out fast, and I barely take the time to breathe. “I know my father’s probably told you, but there were a lot of misunderstandings between us and reasons for why I was hurting, so when he gave me a hard time about—”
“Charlotte?” Barb places a hand on my shoulder. “Breathe.”
I inhale a deep cleansing breath?in through my nose, then out through my mouth.
“It’s okay.”
“But it’s not,” I say, wondering how she can be so cavalier about this.
“It is. Your father should’ve been upfront with me about the money, but having said that, I understand why you did what you did, and as far as I’m concerned, it’s water under the bridge.”
I swallow, staring down at the envelope in my hands. “It’s just . . . I’m in love with your son,” I say, lifting my eyes once more to gauge her reaction, and the smile on her face is nothing short of radiant. “Like, really and truly love him, which means I plan on sticking around, so I hope we can be friends or . . . or whatever stepmothers and daughters are supposed to be because I think you’re pretty great, and I love the boys, and—”
“Charlotte.” Barb places a hand on my arm again.
“I’m rambling again, aren’t I?”
“A little bit.” She winks and it reminds me so much of Chris it’s startling. “But I’m so glad Chris found you, because I think you’re pretty amazing too, and I would love nothing more than to be friends. You have no idea how thrilled I was when I started falling for your father and discovered he had a daughter. And quite frankly, I don’t blame you for the fib at dinner. Your father was acting like an ass.”
My eyes widen, and I choke out a laugh.
“That’s right,” she says, noticing my amusement with a laugh of her own. “I might love that man to the moon and back, but I can point out when my fiancé is being a turd.”
“He was being a turd at dinner, wasn’t he?”
“He was,” she confirms. “So, you and I, we’re good.” She slaps her hands on her thighs like everything’s settled. “Now, are you going to tell me what’s in that envelope you’re clutching, or are you going to keep me in suspense?” she asks, eyeing it.
Feeling sheepish, I hand it over. “It’s for you. Consider it an apology gift.”
Barb’s eyes glitter with curiosity as she tears it open and gingerly pulls out the stock card embellished with pressed rose petals, then gasps. “This is gorgeous.” She lifts the invitation under the light, examining it further. “You did this?”
I nod. “I wanted to show my support, so I made this. This is just an example. Of course, you can use any colors, paper, or stationery you want, but I did all the calligraphy by hand.”
“This is absolutely divine.” I sink further into my chair, relieved she likes it and glowing under her praise. “But are you sure this won’t be too much trouble?”
“I enjoy it.” I shrug. “So, it’s really no bother. Just give me the blank invitations and envelopes you want me to use, and I can have them for you in a couple of weeks. Closer to the wedding, I can even do the place cards for the tables and everything.”
“That would be lovely, Charlotte. Truly. I’d be so honored for you to do them,” she says, and then she reaches out and pulls me into a hug, pressing me into her chest in a move so motherly, it brings tears to my eyes.
By the time she pulls back, we’re both sniffling, and it’s that exact moment, Chris saunters into the kitchen, his smile wide. “Hey, ladies. Everything good?”
“Perfect.” Barb swats at his hand as he tries to steal a piece of bacon.
“I’m hungry,” he whines.
“You’re always hungry,” Barb and I say at the same time, then lock eyes and smile.
Chris crosses the kitchen and wraps his arms around me. “How’d your game with Tyler go?” I ask.
Chris scoffs. “Do you even have to ask? I crushed the little booger in record time and gave him a good dose of humility.”
“I’m so proud.”
“I knew you would be.”
His gaze jumps between me and his mother as she hums a pleasant tune while starting on the French toast. Grinning, he dips his head and whispers, “I take it things went well?”
I nod.
“Told you so,” he says, planting a kiss on my head.
“Do you always have to be right?” I ask, sinking further into his arms.
“I was right about you.”
Biting my lip, I glance up at him, feeling the warmth of his gaze like the sun as I rise onto my toes. “Thank god for that,” I say, and then I kiss him.