Chapter 50
CHAPTER 50
AIDEN
“Where are we going?” Charlotte asks. She’s sitting beside me in the car, wearing a black dress and with a short jacket thrown over her bare arms.
She’s beautiful.
And was waiting for me when I came home. I saw her sitting cross-legged on the sun lounger and enjoying the view of LA. The small smile on her face when she saw me…
“We’re going out to dinner. It’s a disgrace that I’ve only treated you to takeouts so far or to meals with my business associates.”
She glances at me out of the corner of her eye. “You’re taking me out to a restaurant?”
I put a hand on her thigh. “Yes. Don’t overthink it, Chaos.”
“Okay. I won’t,” she murmurs. “What restaurant?”
“You once said you loved Chinese.”
“Really? Are we getting dim sum?”
“We’re going to the best damn dim sum restaurant in the city.”
The restaurant is upscale and trendy. Covers of popular songs play loud enough through the speakers that there’s no doubt the crowd is young. The food is spectacular, and the place was awarded a Michelin Star last year.
I pulled some strings to get a reservation.
Charlotte smiles all through our first round of drinks. I love seeing that expression. I want to make her smile more.
I want to let her know what I’m doing to Blake. That he’s being cut from every show, and will never be allowed on Titan Media’s property again. That I’m taking care of her in all the ways I can think of.
But not yet.
I don’t want his name here, in this small oasis of calm we’ve created after the turmoil of the last twenty-four hours. I never again want to see her like she was yesterday. Panicked outside my office, with the instinct to flee stamped all over her face. It rattled something in me.
Her happiness feels like the most important thing.
Her foot rests next to mine beneath the table, and she smiles down into her drink.
“What are you smiling about?” I ask.
She looks up at me through her lashes. “Nothing. I was just thinking… you remembered that I said dim sum was one of my all-time favorites.”
“Of course I remembered.”
“I just didn’t think you would, that’s all.”
“I remember everything you’ve told me, Chaos.”
She raises an eyebrow. “Everything?”
“Everything.”
I move my leg closer to hers and grab a hold of my chopsticks. “After you’re done with this memoir,” I say. “Where will you go? To write your new book? I’m still looking forward to hearing your full pitch for it, by the way.”
She looks down at her dumplings. “You’re assuming I’ll get the deal.”
“You will. You’re working on the first few chapters, and you’re writing a killer memoir.”
She shakes her head. “Sometimes, I think you see more in me than what’s really there.”
“Impossible.”
“Thank you,” she says, but doesn’t meet my eyes. She’s looking down at her dim sum.
“For what?”
“For acting like yesterday didn’t happen. For not asking me about it.”
I put my hand on hers. “You’ll tell me when you’re ready.”
She nods—a tiny movement—and blows out a breath. “I’m not sure I’ll ever be ready.”
“You will. You’re stronger than you give yourself credit for.”
“You’re saying that, but you haven’t seen my season,” she says. She cocks her head and meets my gaze again. “Can I say something? And please don’t read too much into it?”
I fight to hide a smile. “Yes.”
“Well, it’s not that serious. But I’ve been thinking. You once said that you don’t do relationships because you work too much.”
I reach for my drink. “Yeah, I did say that.”
“I’ve seen you work a lot.”
“Mm-hmm. I think we both work a lot,” I say. “I’ve seen you stay up late writing… almost every day.”
“Yeah. Maybe that’s a bad habit we both share.”
“It definitely is.”
“I don’t know how I would fit a relationship in, either.” She holds her glass of wine. Her third tonight, and there’s something honest in the air. I put down my chopsticks. “With all the work.”
“Work is important,” I say.
She nods. “Yes. It is.”
“That’s the reason I haven’t pursued anything serious in years. There hasn’t been time.” I reach for my glass and look at her over the rim. “But I’m starting to think that work shouldn’t be the most important thing in my life.”
“Yeah.” She smiles a little. “I’ve been thinking about that, too.”
After dinner, Charlotte leans into me as we wait for the elevator. She smells good, and I nuzzle her temple. It feels painfully easy to get used to having her beside me. To watch her chase her dreams and have her sleep in my arms.
It’s the easiest thing I’ve ever done, surrendering to my feelings for her. At every turn where it should terrify me, I find myself… excited instead.
Falling is easy.
We’re standing outside the upscale restaurant, waiting for our driver. People walk by us, line up, or head on out. A group of fashionably dressed twentysomethings get out of a car. Two women in high heels and a lone man.
One of the women locks eyes on Charlotte.
Not surprising. She’s gorgeous.
But the woman’s gaze lingers. She nudges her friend, and they both giggle.
“Hi,” one of them says to us. She’s dark-blonde with eyes rimmed with black make-up.
Charlotte is tense beside me, and I keep my hand on her waist. “Hello,” I say.
“I’m so sorry to bother you both,” the blonde continues. “But you look a lot like… Are you Charlotte? From The Gamble ?”
Chaos is silent for a long beat. The two women exchange a look, and one of them giggles again. “Yes,” Charlotte finally says.
“Oh my god, that’s so cool. It’s been years! What are you up to now?” She smiles like they’re friends.
The other woman doesn’t wait for Charlotte to reply. “No way. That song you made up, the ‘Sugar Puff’ one? We played it that whole summer. It’s still on our nostalgia playlist”
“I didn’t make up that song.” Charlotte’s voice is small.
The blonde pulls out her phone. “Do you mind if we take a selfie together? I have to tell my sister I met you. We were obsessed with your season! Like, watch-party-level obsessed.”
“Do you like, get paid when your meme is used?” the guy behind the women asks. “No, right? Because that’s wild.”
Charlotte takes a small step back, into the curve of my body. I wrap my arm more firmly around her.
“We’re just heading out.” I make my voice deep and unfriendly. It’s worked wonders with journalists over the years. “Enjoy the rest of your night.”
They blink at me. “Oh. Right.”
“If you’ll excuse us,” I say and lead us past them. Charlotte’s steps are quick beside mine.
“That hasn’t happened in… a while,” she says once we’re in the car.
“Are you okay?”
She nods and looks out the window. But I can sense her withdrawing into herself, pulling away from me. Tightening the hatches and bracing for a storm.
I don’t want her pulling away.
Her hand rests on her lap. I reach out and thread our fingers together without saying a word. Her breath hitches, and her hand squeezes mine.
Once we’re back home, she walks ahead of me into the house. Still silent.
Damn it. This wasn’t the ending to the night I’d hoped for. I wanted a break from the panic attack, from Jeff and Blake, and the story she doesn’t want to tell.
I shut the door behind us. “Charlotte.”
She shakes her head softly and walks with quick steps toward the kitchen. I follow her at a slower pace, shoving my hands into my pockets.
They ache to reach for her.
“That hasn’t happened in a while,” she says again, dejection in her voice. She pours herself a glass of water and leans against the kitchen counter, hands gripping the glass to her chest.
“I’m sorry about that.”
She shakes her head again. Her eyes look glossy, and fuck , are those unshed tears? My chest tightens with shame—potent and thick—that I’ve been a part of causing her this anguish.
I never wanted this.
“I’m sorry you had to see that.” Her voice is thin, her hand tight around the glass of water.
“Don’t apologize to me. Please.”
She takes a deep breath, and her eyes move from mine to the window. It’s the Charlotte I saw in the parking lot. The woman who’s reeling from something she thought she’d conquered long ago.
“That was embarrassing. It doesn’t usually… well. It happens. God, I’m so ashamed.”
I take a step closer. The distance between us feels ocean-wide. “Chaos, stop.”
Her shoulders lift in a shrug. “Mistakes truly do live forever. Especially if they’re online.”
“You didn’t make a mistake.”
“You haven’t seen it yet,” she whispers. “When you do, you’ll know. And you’ll never look at me the same way again.”