Chapter 48 Charlotte
Charlotte
I stopped and peered at my handiwork. When I’d run out of paper, I’d had to find another surface.
Cypress trees and ancient stones under a rich blue sky covered the expanse of wall in the lounge.
Paint dripped from my brush onto the sheets I’d laid over the carpet.
If Tiff came in here now, she’d assume I was having a breakdown.
Maybe I was. But it didn’t feel like that.
All the tension in my shoulders had gone.
My heart beat a calm rhythm in my chest, and I was filled with a deep sense of peace.
All I knew was that it felt good. What did it matter?
These walls were due to be painted over anyway.
A commotion sounded on the drive, and I moved to the window to look outside.
My car was being hoisted high and onto the back of a tow truck.
A different car sat on the driveway where mine had been—a silver tank-like monstrosity with a prominent grille glinting in the sun.
What on earth? Ditching my paintbrush, I ran outside to the burly man in a plaid shirt who was securing my car to the truck.
“Wait. No! What are you doing? That’s my car.”
He gave me an unconcerned glance and pulled out a scrap of paper from his back pocket. “Fourteen Manor Road? Charlotte Ackroyd?”
I wiped my paint-covered hands down my overalls. “Yes. This is my car. I don’t want you to take it away.”
He shrugged and readjusted his baseball cap on his thick mop of red hair. “I just go where I’m told.”
“Wait. No. You can’t take it.” I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself. “There’s been some kind of mistake. Where has this car come from? That car isn’t mine.”
That’s when I noticed the number plate: L0T 11E.
“It’s yours. Congratulations,” he said flatly, putting a set of keys on the bonnet. “Shouldn’t be any problems, but my number is in the glove compartment if you need anything.”
“I don’t know what’s going on here, but I’m begging you. Please don’t take my car.” My voice pitched an octave higher in desperation. “This is a misunderstanding.”
He squinted at the scrap of paper again and moved to the cab of his truck. “Vexo Inc. Call them if you’ve got a problem.”
Vexo? That was Cole’s company. Was this Cole’s doing?
Who else? He was the only person I knew capable of affording a car like this.
The tow-truck guy climbed up into the driver’s seat and slammed his door.
The truck rumbled to life. Frozen on my front doorstep, I watched as my car disappeared from view.
“I didn’t order a rental car,” I cried after him.
“It’s not a rental car. It’s your car.” The crisp voice almost made me jump out of my skin.
I spun and met Cole’s familiar pale-blue eyes, but nothing else about him was familiar. He was dressed as a laborer in heavy-duty navy overalls. A mop rested over one shoulder and a couple of bags over the other. It was the most incongruous thing I’d ever seen, like a kid had raided a dress-up box.
A strange laugh spluttered out of me. “Why are you doing cosplay as a blue-collar worker? Is this how billionaires have to blow off steam? Pretend to be normal people for the day?”
He hitched an amused eyebrow. “How are you, Charlotte? It’s good to see you.”
I’d never wanted to see him again, but a wave of relief washed over me to have him close. My hands were shaking. I slipped the car key into the pocket of my filthy jeans and gripped my hands behind my back.
“I was fine until you came and stole my car in broad daylight. I should call the police.”
He surveyed the drive. “Not stolen. Replaced. I can organize something different if you don’t like it.”
“This is . . . I didn’t ask for this.” I peered at the car. It was ridiculously huge. “You can’t just go around buying people cars. This look like it belongs to a Russian oligarch.”
He tapped the bonnet. “I’d say more premier league footballer than oligarch, but I didn’t think you’d appreciate a supercar.”
“You know I can’t accept this from you.”
“Why not? It’s an apology for my shitty behavior.”
“Because you can’t just buy your way back into my good graces.”
He nodded solemnly. “I know that. And I accept it. Truly. This is my last gift. I’m here because I want to be your friend.” He frowned. “Actually, there is one more gift, if you’ll allow it.”
He slid a bag from his shoulder and opened it just enough to show the contents. I peered inside to see a slim DVD player and a bunch of box sets.
“Buffy?”
“Every season. I thought you could do with a replacement since you accused me of stealing yours.”
“Is this your admission of guilt? You did take it?”
His level gaze met mine, but his brow lifted with humor. “I admit nothing.” I made no move to take the offered bag. “Thank you, but you know I can just stream them.”
“Take them, anyway.” He put the bag at my feet with a wry smile. “It’s always good to have a backup.”
He brought the mop down from over his shoulder and planted it at his side like a wizard’s staff.
“My boss sent me here, actually. He said you have a house in need of a clear-out. I’ve come to help you with that.
I’ve got all the gear.” He thumbed at a white van across the street.
“I thought we could take it step by step. One room at a time. Patch up the roof. Sort out the plumbing. Clear out the furniture. Strip the walls. Give it a new lick of paint.”
The spreading ache behind my eyes was back. Cole wanted to help me paint and decorate? It was ludicrous. Cole had probably never got his hands dirty his whole life.
“Do you even know how to do any of those things?”
He inclined his head. “Of course. I’m a handyman. Anything I don’t know, I’ll learn on the job.”
I blew out a breath. We were done with this. Sexy role-play had been fun in Rome, but not now. “I appreciate the gesture, but I told you this was over. I want to move on from you. How can I do that if you’re here?”
He studied my face. His voice was low and earnest. “I understand. I promise that this is not a romantic proposition. You don’t even need to talk to me if you don’t want to.
Just let me do my work. No funny business.
You put your feet up and let me take care of it.
This is just me helping you because I know that hell is going to freeze over before you ask for help. ”
I folded my arms. “But why?”
“Because you’ve been doing everything on your own for so long, and this isn’t a job that anyone should do alone. I want to be here for you. No strings attached. Just friends. You’re doing me a favor, anyway. Making you happy gives me a lot of pleasure.”
“It does?”
His eyes locked with mine. “It always has.”
All I wanted was to collapse into his arms. I’d missed him so much. Despite all of it. Even though this relationship was confusing and he’d hurt me, I missed him. I couldn’t forget how he’d hurt me. I already had closure.
My usual misgivings clamored to the surface.
You’re too late. I’ve coped on my own for years.
I don’t need help. But the weariness inside wouldn’t let me say them out loud.
Because the truth was louder. I do need help.
This is too much. I don’t want to be alone anymore.
If he wanted to help, then who was I to stop him?
It didn’t mean I had to jump into bed with him again.
I wouldn’t. Not now. He’d let me down too many times.
It was different back home. Being in Ecclesdale kept the past at the forefront of my mind.
I folded my arms. “I still want a divorce. You can help if you want, but I’m serious about that.”
“I understand. I still want to help. Please. Let me do this.”
I toed his work boot. “Who designed your outfit? Valentino? Those must be the cleanest overalls I’ve ever seen.”
His eyes sparkled with humor. “Are you going to invite me in or not? I’m on the clock. My boss won’t be happy with all this slacking.”
“I’m sure he won’t. I’ve heard he’s difficult.” I opened my front door and gestured for him to come inside. “You don’t know how to deal with mold, do you?”
“As it happens, I do. You can’t just paint over it. You have to strip the room back. Find the source of the damp. Tackle that first.” He offered a faint smile. “It’s going to take a lot of hard work, but I’ll give it everything I’ve got.”