Chapter 42 Charlotte
Charlotte
I didn’t even know why I picked up the art supplies.
It was a stupid, impulsive thing. The little art shop had looked so inviting.
Now, the sketch pad weighed heavy under my arm and made me feel ridiculous.
I should have pitched it in a bin somewhere.
I also should have gone to the Trevi Fountain at sunrise, before the streets were crowded and stifling.
Tourists with their phones held high crammed every inch of the low stone ledge around the fountain’s base.
I studied the intricate carving and turquoise pool, glittering with coins.
Trickling water and conversations in a host of different languages filled my ears.
A couple got up and I darted to sit in the gap they left behind.
Water cascaded in sheets behind me and the spray caught the bare skin of my arms. Balancing the sketch pad on my knee, I took a pencil from my bag, and the blank page stared back at me.
Who do you think you are? It will be terrible whatever you do.
People were probably looking at me. I knew what they’d be thinking: she thinks she’s some kind of artist. At my side, two lovers kissed.
My face felt hot and tense. I shifted position, turning my body away.
Just make a start. It doesn’t have to be good. Rebuild your fucking tower.
Cole had blown me off for a meeting. We should have been here together.
It shouldn’t have bothered me this much, because I knew exactly what I’d signed up for.
A contractual arrangement. Cole had wanted a wife he could pick up and put down whenever he liked.
Someone he could ditch and walk away from without consequences.
It didn’t matter how real it felt. When it was a choice between me and his own agenda, I didn’t factor in.
He’d made me think he was bringing me to Rome because it mattered to me, but really it had just been to shaft his father.
He’d tried to dig up dirt about my art tutor just because I’d mentioned it once.
It was all so petty and vindictive. I wasn’t a wife.
I was an employee. Somehow, this place had made me forget that he’d made me sign a contract.
Cole fucked all his employees one way or another, he was just a lot nicer about it with me.
I held my pencil poised over the page, but I couldn’t do it.
Not in this crush of tourists. I found a quiet curb at the corner of the piazza and sat with my legs crossed and the sketch pad in my lap.
I studied the carved sea horses and water nymphs.
Where to start? The pencil felt awkward and alien in my hands.
It had been too long. Why was I even bothering?
Cole drifted back to the forefront of my mind.
On paper, the arrangement with him was worth it, but the reality was something different.
The reality was too painful. I’d done a lousy job of protecting my heart.
I’d jumped into bed with him, knowing I’d never be able to park my emotions.
I’d let myself fall for him all over again, despite what he’d done to me in the past. He’d broken my heart without any remorse or excuse.
There was no reason to think he wouldn’t break it again. I would never be Cole’s priority.
I glanced down at the page to see that I’d been doodling without even realizing.
Two hands reaching for each other, their fingertips almost touching.
It was a crude effort. Not good. Not even a shadow of the hands in the Sistine Chapel.
But they were there. I’d drawn them. The first step.
A realization settled in my heart. Michelangelo could have drawn the fingers touching, but he hadn’t, because the tension was in the gap.
My spark of life was so close, but I had to reach out and touch it.
I’d put everything on hold to care for Dad, and I didn’t regret a moment of that.
For years, I’d been surviving what life had handed me.
Dutiful daughter. Compliant sister. Always going through the motions to keep myself and Dad afloat.
Now it was time to start living again. To figure out what my life should look like. To put myself in the driver’s seat.
Cole would never prioritize me, but I had to prioritize myself.
No matter how much money he was offering, if I couldn’t commit to this agreement without feeling like my heart was breaking, it wouldn’t work.
No amount of money was worth feeling stuck and heartbroken.
As much as I’d fooled myself that I wouldn’t fall for him again, I had.
Despite every misgiving, I cared about him so deeply.
I couldn’t be with him every day pretending to be his wife when it felt like this.
Cole had offered me a lifeline, but the price was too steep.
Maybe there was a way out of the contract.
If I sold the house, I could pay him back the money I owed.
Yes, it would be painful. But it was still the healthier option.
I needed a clean break. A new chapter. One where I would be my own lifeline.
I pulled my phone out of my bag and texted Tiff. This would affect her, too.
I’m leaving Cole. Is there somewhere else you can stay?
Her reply pinged back instantly. What? Why? What about the money?
It’s a long story. You can go back to the house.
It’s fine. I’m back home with Paul.
My heart sank. Good that I wasn’t making things difficult for Tiff with her accommodation, but I’d hoped she was done with Paul.
We can sell the house. It has to be the right people.
She replied. Why the change of heart?
Because it’s not worth it. I’m over billionaire dick.
I walked to the fountain and threw a coin over my shoulder. Rome had my heart. I’d be back here again one day. Alone.
I dragged my case through the lobby to the exit. It was about to cost me a fortune to fly home, but I’d take the hit. Better that than spend any more time with Cole.
“Charlotte?”
Reuben strolled across the lobby. He flashed a broad smile and rocked back on his Air Jordans. “Sorry about all that awkward business last night with my dad.” He took off his neon-orange baseball cap and fanned his face with it. “He can be like that.”
“Don’t you get tired of him?”
His smile dimmed a little. “Sometimes. He’s not always that bad.” He scanned the lobby. “Are you checking out? Where’s Cole?”
“I don’t know, and I don’t care.”
He frowned. “You’re leaving alone?”
“Yes. Excuse me. I don’t want the taxi to leave.”
He propped his cap back on his head and offered an amiable smile. “Do you want a lift?”
“It’s fine. I booked a car to the airport.”
“No. I meant a lift back to England. I’m just about to fly home. The jet is waiting.”
Absolutely no way did I want an awkward trip on a private jet with the fake father-in-law from hell. “No. Thanks. I’ll make my own way.”
“Dad’s not coming, if that’s what you were worried about. He’s staying on. It’s just me. Come on. Avoid all those awful queues at check-in.”
“You don’t mind?”
“Of course not, Sis.” He beamed. “We’re family.”
He tried to take my case, but I gripped the handle. “I’ve got it. Thanks.”
In the cool, air-conditioned interior of Reuben’s limo, I sent Cole a text.
I want a divorce.
Then, with a sigh, I sent a follow-up message because I couldn’t help myself. Don’t forget to pack your laptop charger. It’s on the bedside table.