Chapter 26
CHAPTER 26
AIDEN
The next night, it’s far too late when I finally head home.
The meeting with investors ran late, and there was too much on the line to leave early. Then Eric and Cynthia showed up with an urgent matter.
One that has left me in a sour mood. Not only had I likely missed my chance of spending time with Charlotte tonight, but there is a fire that needs to be doused within the company that could not, under any circumstances, be leaked to the press.
Wonderful.
I drive up the winding, familiar road to my house on autopilot. I’ve done it day in and day out for more years than I can count. It was one of the first purchases I made after college. Since then, the value of the property has appreciated so much that realtors are regularly hounding me to sell. But I don’t need more space.
I live alone, and I’ve always liked it that way.
Before.
Because I’m increasingly aware of there being a distinct before and a resounding after. And it all revolves around her .
I hate the promise Charlotte made me make in the car last night. It goes against every instinct I have to get to know her better, to make sure she’s safe, and that whoever elicited that reaction from her never comes near her again. But she made me swear, and I’ll be damned if I’ll be the kind of man who doesn’t stand by his word.
That was my father, not me.
I pull into my driveway, and park between my sleek Ferrari Spider and Charlotte’s beat-up old Honda. I hate the sight of it now just as much as the first time I saw it.
Anyone can practically see how unsafe it is with a single glance.
It’s a wonder it made it all the way here from Chicago, across hundreds of miles and rough terrain, with a stop at Zion National Park.
I park my car next to Honda and shoot it another look. I don’t want Charlotte driving around LA in that thing. Surrounded by giant vehicles that take the narrow hillside roads up here in the mountains far too fast. I should know. One incident, and she’d be…
Maybe I can convince her to let me buy her a new car. Make that a part of her deal. Nothing flashy, just…
From this decade, at the very least.
The house is dark when I unlock the front door. Of course, she’s already asleep. Why wouldn’t she be? I walk across the space with more force than needed. Usually, it’s my work that sustains me. Right now, I feel like it’s the one thing that’s bringing me down.
I hear soft voices, and then laughter. I head up to the second-floor landing and hear the voices get louder. Yes, it’s definitely the TV.
“Charlotte?”
There’s no response. Just more of a laugh track.
I see her on the couch. She’s lying on her side, curled up, hand beneath her head. The screen is showing an old episode of Friends .
Sprawled on the table in front of her are two notepads, a still-opened laptop, and half a bottle of wine.
I lift the bottle. Langley Wineries. Along with my mother and my sister, I own this vineyard estate up in Sonoma Valley. She’s doing research?
I look down at Charlotte. She’s in a tank top and a pair of gray sweatpants, her face smoothed out in sleep. Long eyelashes rest against her freckled cheeks. Her hair is a wavy mess around the pillow. I want to reach out and run my hand through her gentle waves. I want to pull her into my arms and fall asleep right next to her.
I do neither.
Instead, I sit down on the other end of the couch and reach for a blanket. Being careful not to wake her, I spread it over her and then grab one of her notepads.
My name is everywhere.
She’s made notes for different chapters of the memoir in her slanted handwriting. There are comments about Mandy and how she’s planning to reach out to schedule a lunch with her. Questions that are still unanswered. There’s also a little checklist of topics that she’s waiting for my answers.
I look at the pen on the coffee table. Back to Charlotte. And then I sit back down and start answering them one by one.
She stirs when I’m halfway down the list. Curls even tighter into a ball before shifting onto her back. Her eyes blink open a few times, and she rolls her neck.
I put her notepad back down. “Hey.”
“Hey,” she murmurs, a small smile on her lips. Then her eyes widen. “I fell asleep.”
“Yes, you sure did.” I hold up the bottle of wine. “Raided the wine cellar downstairs, too, I see.”
“I bought it myself!” She pushes up onto her elbows. A strap of her tank top has fallen down, leaving one of her shoulders bare. She’s too fucking pretty.
“Please tell me you didn’t,” I say.
“Yes, earlier today. While I was out on a research trip.”
“A research trip?”
She nods and pushes firmly into sitting. Pulling her legs beneath herself in a cross-legged position. “Yes. I did…” She looks down at the mess on the coffee room table. “I went to your high school and elementary school.”
“You did what ?”
“I needed to see them to be able to describe them.”
“No reader will be interested in my elementary school.”
She gives me a prim look. “Yes, they will, Aiden. Because it’s part of painting a larger picture.”
“I could have taken you there. If you really wanted to go.”
“You were at work,” she says.
“I could have skipped out for an hour,” I say.
It’s a complete lie. I didn’t even have time to eat dinner today, never mind taking a break to drive around areas I haven’t been to in years. Decades.
“I didn’t want to bother you.” She looks at the bottle in my hands, and a slight blush creeps up her cheeks. “I didn’t plan on having so much. It was better than I expected.”
“I’m glad you think so. It’s my mother’s pride and joy.”
“Does she live up there now?”
I smile faintly. “You never stop working, do you?”
With her hair mussed from her nap and her eyes warm on mine, it’s impossible to look at her and not remember her lips on mine last night.
On the projector screen, laughter erupts again.
“My work is you,” she says.
I focus on the bottle in my hand. “Yeah. I don’t know what I think about that.”
“You don’t like being under so much scrutiny. I get it,” she says with a small shrug.
That’s not it.
But I don’t want to go into the nuances of it. I fill up her glass instead. “You don’t mind if I have some of this, do you? And never buy it again. I have an entire roomful.”
“I didn’t want to steal any of it.”
“Charlotte.”
She meets my glare head-on, and then she shrugs with a small smile. “Okay. I’ll raid it completely and sell everything on eBay tomorrow.”
“Good,” I say without missing a beat. “Use the profits to buy yourself a new car.”
“What’s wrong with my car?”
“It’s a death trap.” I take a long sip of the wine and look over at the screen. “ Friends , huh? After all this time.”
“I needed company, but not something that would distract me. I’ve watched the whole series so many times that I know all the lines.” She shrugs again, and the blush is back on her cheeks. “Sorry. Did you just get home?”
“Yeah, I did.”
“Did you really get up at five thirty again this morning?”
We got home late last night after the movie premiere. And I lay awake in the bed, unable to sleep despite the exhaustion, just down the hall from her.
“Yes,” I say. Working out had been necessary to get the want out of my body. Some of it, anyway. The rest I drained down the shower after.
But it’s back with a vengeance now.
She shakes her head, a soft smile on her lips. “You’re incredible. I’ve never known anyone who works as hard as you do.”
“That’s not true. You work hard.”
“I drove around LA today, spent four hours at a coffee shop writing, had a delicious but overpriced lunch, and then sat here with wine and TV until I fell asleep.” She levels me with a look. “Not the same.”
“You can work from here. If you want to. Use the pool, the gym, anything. All day.” I take a sip of the wine and look away. That idea sounds too good. Her, at home. Here.
“Thanks. It’s a beautiful place.” Her gaze is soft, and she looks back at the screen. There’s some kind of subplot about a cat. I dimly remember the episode. It would be so easy, to sink down on the couch beside her, to pull her close, and to shut my eyes, too.
I reach again for her notepad instead. The one with the questions I still haven’t answered.
“You’ve written that I’ve been avoiding the hard topics.”
“You snooped while I was sleeping?”
“The notepads were left open. And is it really snooping if it’s all about me?” I tap a knuckle against the piece of paper. She wants to know about my past relationships. Exes. And in that… I see an opportunity. “You remember the deal we made? I’ll tell you mine if you’ll tell me yours.”