Chapter 25
25
CHARLIE
I sit in the chair on the opposite side of Stella’s desk, my ankle resting on my knee and an entire box of cinnamon apple streusel cupcakes on my lap. Caleb brought them to me as a mood booster, though I’m not exactly sure why my mood needs boosting. I’ve been extremely pleasant to everyone this morning, starting with Nova when I woke her up with my head between her legs. I snuck over to her place after spending the rest of the festival with Stella and Luka, doing my best to seem happy that they came back early from their trip instead of slightly murderous and largely agitated.
I wanted more time.
I thought I had more time.
I shove another cupcake in my mouth and try not to feel salty about it.
Maybe I do need mood boosting.
Stella holds her hands out above her desk, hovering but not touching anything. “I’m afraid to move.”
“Why?”
“I don’t think it’s ever been so organized.”
“Not even when you bought the place?”
She shakes her head. “Luka almost wept when he dropped me off this morning.”
I let some of the tension slip from my spine. It is nice to have her back. Luka too. I missed them both, even if I happily filled the space they left behind. It’s not their fault I got used to sitting in the chair behind her desk, sipping my coffee from a mug shaped like a nutcracker. These things have always belonged to Stella. I knew that when I came here, and I knew that this morning when I woke up with Nova’s legs tangled with mine. I’ve just been borrowing them.
Stella picks up a piece of paper and frowns at it. Shit. I was hoping she’d see that when I was gone and not sitting right in front of her, but I can’t exactly reach across and rip it out of her hands. “What’s this?” she asks.
“It looks like a piece of paper.”
Her eyes narrow over the top of it. “Charlie. Did you”—she squints her eyes and tilts her head to the side—“map out an expansion? For the farm?”
“Possibly.”
She picks up another piece of paper. My poorly doodled map and the sheet right beneath it. She holds them all fanned out in her hands, a bewildered look on her face. “Did you make budget sheets too? And list out possible partners?”
I shrug. “I needed something to keep me busy.”
I thought I’d have more time to hide it before she got back. My plan was to tuck the paperwork under her recurring candy cane order invoice and play stupid when she brought it up. I think I organized everything a little too well.
She drops her hands on top of her clean desk. “Maintaining the farm and working your job in New York wasn’t enough of an activity?”
“Apparently not.”
“And hooking up with Nova Porter didn’t add enough flavor? You needed to make me a business plan too?”
I freeze with another cupcake halfway to my mouth. “Um.”
“Mm-hmm,” she continues, not looking at me. She flips another page in her stack. “I am aware of what you were up to, Charles Abraham Milford.”
“That’s not my middle name.”
“And that’s not the most important takeaway from that sentence. The phone tree has been talking about it since we left. Luka kept a close eye on the situation while we were in Italy.”
I drop my cupcake. “I knew it.”
“And if that wasn’t enough of an answer, I caught you slinking out of an alleyway with her lipstick on your neck.”
I ignore that part. “So, the phone tree is still active, then.”
“Again,” Stella drawls, “not the most important takeaway from that sentence.”
I wonder when they took me off. Was it at the wedding? Was it after that first harvest festival committee meeting? What have I missed? How do I get added back on? Is there an appeals process? Who makes these decisions?
I have so many questions.
“You know how invested I am in the phone tree.”
“I’m aware.” She reaches forward and plucks one of the cupcakes out of my box. “What’s going on with Nova, Charlie?”
I hesitate. “What does the phone tree say?”
“Well,” she takes a bite out of her cupcake and chews thoughtfully. “There was a video of you falling from her roof half naked. Luka watched it thirty-seven times. Between that and the alleyway, I can put the pieces together easily enough. But I’d like to hear it from you. Why didn’t you say anything?”
“You’ve been back in town for twelve hours.”
“And yet while I was away, you managed to share numerous selfies of yourself around the farm.”
That’s true. We texted frequently while she was in Italy. She asked how the farm was doing, and I decided to send her a photo diary in response. Me and the kittens. Me decorating a tree with mini pumpkins in the west fields. Me on top of Beckett’s tractor. Me lying on the ground next to Beckett’s tractor after he yanked me off it.
“Which one was your favorite? Mine was the one with me and Diego.” I smooshed my face next to Beckett’s cow while he had a mouthful of grass. I think we look adorable together. I might make it my Christmas card this year.
“Charlie,” Stella sighs. “Enough deflecting. Why didn’t you tell me about Nova? Why did you do all this extra work for the farm?”
“It wasn’t extra work.”
She looks down at the papers in exasperation. “You made an entire expansion plan. There’s a…festive themed bar with a sample menu. You have leads for farmers market distributors. You somehow got Beckett to sign an agreement that he’ll actually take part in a farmers market.” Under the duress of half a bottle of tequila and the promise of an adopted pig, but whatever. “This is a business plan for the next five to seven years. It’s not some little project you did when you were bored. This is a big deal.”
“It’s not a big deal.”
Her cheeks flush pink. She’s frustrated and picking up steam. She points at my face. “It is a big deal. Just like the trip to Italy was a big deal! There was a limo at the airport, Charlie! A limo!”
I blink at her. “There was supposed to be a limo. That’s what I asked for.”
“The whole trip was incredible! All of it! I ate so much pasta it’s a wonder I didn’t explode!”
I shrink back in my chair. “Why are you yelling at me?”
“Because you keep minimizing yourself and the things you do and I have no idea why!”
“That’s not…” I frown. “That’s not what I’m doing.”
I like planning trips to Italy. I like thinking up ideas for the farm. It’s a productive use of my time when my brain won’t slow down and sleep won’t come easy. It’s also better than financial spreadsheets and never-ending emails and placating my father.
“You are,” Stella seethes, one pale pink fingernail pointed in my direction. “And it stops now. No more of this”—she waves her hand in my face—“nonsense. I love you. I love you whether you send me to Italy or not. Whether you take over my job for a month or not. You don’t need to prove anything to me.”
I pick at the edge of a cupcake wrapper. This conversation is eerily similar to the one I had with Nova the night she inked my wrist. Too close to the battered pieces of my heart. “Fine,” I mumble.
Stella cups her hand around her ear. “What was that?”
“I said fine.”
“Fine, what?”
“Fine, I’ll stop”—I make a face—“minimizing myself.”
Stella relaxes. “Thank you. Was that so hard?”
“Kind of.”
She ignores me and claps her hands together. “Now let’s talk about Nova.”
I groan and let my head drop back. “Who sent you the video? Did the whole phone tree see it?”
I’d like to know how many people saw me taking a nosedive into the hydrangeas and why no one decided to say anything about it.
“No. It was a very specific branch of the phone tree.” Ah. That explains why no one asked me about it in the cheese aisle of the grocery store. The unofficial motto of the phone tree is Your Business Is Town Business. “This town isn’t that reckless.”
I stare at her over the stretch of her desk. “Do you remember during the Disney themed trivia night when someone tried to set off celebratory fireworks on the bar top? Or maybe the Easter egg hunt last year when Clint replaced all the plastic eggs with actual eggs for authenticity and the kids started pelting each other with them?”
“I forgot you were here for that.”
“I got yolk on my Armani.”
“All right,” Stella agrees. “Fair point. This town is reckless.”
I shift in my seat. It’s not that I’m uncomfortable that people know; I’m more concerned that one specific person knows. “Is Beckett on this branch of the phone tree?”
Stella shakes her head. “It was long ago decided that Beckett would not be added to any subthreads given he once launched his phone out of a moving vehicle when the phone tree called to tell him about ladies night at the bowling alley.”
“Who decided this?”
“That is not for you to know, Charles Gareth Milford.”
I drag my hand over my face. This conversation is officially off the rails. I have no idea how we got here.
Stella’s face softens, and she leans forward, resting her elbows on top of her desk. “It’s just me asking. No one else. We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. But if you do need someone to confide in, I’d like to listen.”
I scratch at a spot under my ear. Stella’s gaze drifts over my wrist. A smile tugs at her mouth when she notices my new tattoo.
It would be nice to talk to someone about it. Maybe Stella can tell me what in the hell I’m supposed to do. I have no experience in lasting relationships. I have no experience in any relationships. I want this thing with Nova to work more than anything. Maybe Stella can offer some advice.
“Nova and I are…” I look for the right way to explain how all of this started. From a proposition on a dance floor to…pizza shared on a too-small couch in a too-small house. Me with my laptop and Nova with her sketch pad, her legs tucked underneath her at her kitchen table. A single beer passed back and forth in a chipped coffee mug. Nova in just her socks and one of my sweatshirts, the material down to her knees.
Laughing and talking and fucking and driving and kissing and sharing and stealing blankets in the dead of night.
A tattoo on my wrist and my heart in my throat.
The look on her face when she told me I was her favorite.
I’ve never been anyone’s favorite.
“I think I’m in love with her” is what comes out of my mouth. I rub my hand against the middle of my chest. “And I’m terrified I’m going to fuck it up.”
Stella drops her cupcake. It lands frosting first on top of a folder. “Holy shit.”
I nod. That has more or less been the thought doing figure eights through the back of my mind since Nova told me she wanted to take me home. All those weeks ago.
“Mm-hmm.”
“I mean. Holy shit ,” Stella says again. She keeps blinking at me. I think she needs a manual reset. Maybe I should call Luka.
I slouch down in my chair. “Yep.”
“I thought you two were just messing around,” she says, voice faint. “You were flirting at the wedding and with the video of the roof, I thought—Luka and I thought the two of you were just having fun.”
“We were,” I say. “We are. Nova, she’s—” I’m having trouble finding the right words. “Being with her like this—it’s the most fun I’ve ever had.”
Stella smiles at me, eyes glassy. “Holy shit,” she says again, voice hushed.
“Are you going to cry?”
She drags her knuckles under her eye. “I don’t know. Probably.” She releases a noisy breath. “This is all very unexpected.”
“Tell me about it.”
“Does she know?”
I cross my legs at the ankle and grab another cupcake.
“No, she doesn’t.” I don’t plan on telling her either. Not before I leave. I want to see how everything settles first. It doesn’t feel right to say it right at the edge of everything changing. No, I’ll give her some time and then we’ll see.
“Does Beckett know?”
I scratch once above my eyebrow. “He doesn’t know anything about what we’ve been doing,” I answer quietly. I don’t exactly feel good about that part, but I don’t see an alternative. Beckett is notoriously protective of his sisters. At first, I didn’t tell him because it wasn’t serious, and now I’m not telling him because it is. I’m not sure what would break my heart more, Nova telling me she wants to end things between us, or Beckett telling me I’m not good enough for his sister. I guess I’m just trying to buy myself some more time. Across the board.
Stella’s face does something complicated. “You’ve been keeping it a secret this whole time?”
“Didn’t you get that impression from the roof video?”
“But if you love her—”
“I just figured that part out,” I cut Stella off. “I’ve never been in love before. I didn’t know.”
This terrible, incredible feeling. Why I can’t stop thinking about her, talking about her, looking for her whenever I’m in town. I want to tuck her in her blanket burritos, and I want to fuck her silly, and I want to hold her hand and tell her about tax forms. I want to open her window for her when she can’t manage it for herself. I want to sit next to her at her kitchen table and do absolutely nothing.
That has to be love, doesn’t it?
I really don’t know.
I glance up at my sister. “What did it feel like? When you fell in love with Luka?”
Stella smiles at me and this time she’s definitely crying. A tear falls from her lashes and lands on top of my neatly organized manila folders. “Like the most fun I’ve ever had.”
?I rap my knuckles against Nova’s front door, not taking my usual care to park in the alley behind the bookstore and walk the couple of blocks over. Since the very specific branch of the phone tree knows about us, there’s really no use army-crawling beneath the blackberry bushes in her backyard to surreptitiously knock at her door.
As fun as that is.
A light flicks on above my head. Nova’s face appears in the window. She grins when she sees me, and my heart does something ridiculous.
Love, love, love loops around my mind in time with the beat of my heart.
“Hey.” She leans against the frame with her arms crossed. She’s wearing a tight black tank top and no bra. Baggy high-waisted sweatpants. Plain black socks. Her hair is loose around her shoulders and all of her ink is on display. Soft. Comfortable. I want to put her in my pocket. I want to bend her over my knee. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” she asks.
“Wanted to see you,” I answer, the words bubbling out of me before I can think to contain them. I don’t know how to temper myself when I’m with Nova. It’s like the parts of me that I struggle to keep in check collapse every time she glances in my direction. I don’t know what’s too much and what’s too little. I don’t know how to do any of this.
But Nova smiles at me and those thoughts quiet, the strain in my neck easing. “And you’re using the front door?”
“I am.” I step over the threshold and pull her door shut behind me. I tip her chin up with my knuckles and brush a kiss over her lips. “I hope that’s okay.”
Her hands fist the front of my coat. “Of course it is.”
“I’m heading out in the morning.” I keep walking her backward until the small of her back hits the table she keeps tucked up against the wall in her hallway. Something rattles on it, and her breath releases with a sigh. “I wanted to spend tonight with you.”
Her brows collapse with a cute little furrow. “Heading out?”
“Back to New York,” I explain.
“Oh.” Her whole face falls. “So soon?”
I shouldn’t like it as much as I do, but it’s nice to know I’m not the only one who will miss this. Kissing in the front hallway before I even take off my coat, her hands slipping beneath to press flat against my chest.
I trace my thumb over her bottom lip. “I’ve been here a month, Nova girl,” I say as gently as I can, more for my own fragile feelings about it than hers. “Stella is back. There’s no need for me to stay.”
Her face collapses in a scowl. “No need, huh?”
A smile twitches at my lips. “Are you going to miss me?”
“Miss you destroying all of my landscaping? I don’t think so.” She pushes my heavy coat off my shoulders and it collapses at our feet. “I think you’ll be missing me more than I’ll be missing you.”
“Another bet?” I drop my forehead to hers, our noses brushing. “I’m going to run out of watches.”
“I’ll take payment in the form of cufflinks too.”
I laugh. “What are you going to do with my cufflinks?”
“Whatever I want,” she breathes, her hands working at the buttons of my shirt.
“What do you think I’m going to miss the most?” I ask, my hand tracing a path from her cheek to her jaw to the strong line of her throat. I flex my fingers there, and she lets out a sigh, a whine vibrating under my palm. Desire coils tight. “What do you think I’ll be thinking about, all alone in my apartment?”
“My peanut butter pretzels,” she whispers with a rasp.
I laugh and bend so I can wrap both of my arms around her, hauling her up so her face is above mine. I want her closer. I want to feel all of her against all of me. Her legs curl around my hips and her hands frame my cheeks.
“Yeah, that’s it,” I whisper. “Your peanut butter pretzels.”
Her thumbs make sweeping strokes from my temples to the curve of my jaw. I close my eyes and try to memorize the feel of her against me. Her ankles crossed at the small of my back and the weight of her in my arms. The steady thump of her heartbeat pressed tight to mine. The eager, unconscious rock of her hips.
It’s not a goodbye, but it feels like one. Tomorrow I’ll go to New York and she’ll be here. No take-out coffee cups dropped off in the morning. No stolen kisses in the back hallway of her studio.
It makes me feel desperate. Itchy to have as much of her as possible as quickly as I can. I slide one hand up her back and fist it in her hair. “How do you need me tonight?”
She nudges her nose with mine, tipping my face up to hers where she’s balanced above me. She kisses me carefully, then sinks her teeth into my bottom lip. I groan.
“You’re always giving me what I want. How about you take what you want instead,” she mutters against my mouth. Her kiss slips into something wet and deep. Slow and savoring. She pulls back with a hum and thumbs at the edge of my mouth. “For once.”
“Yeah?” I’m usually content to follow wherever Nova leads, but there’s a big part of me that desperately wants control. I want to make her remember me, stretch this time together a little more.
“Yeah,” she whispers back. She bites at the slope of my jaw and then leans back, arms draped over my shoulders. She grins at me. “I want you to tell me what you want, Charlie boy.”
I smile so wide my cheeks hurt. I untangle my hand from her hair and twist it in the butter-soft material of her tank top, tugging it over her head. I throw it in the direction of the living room, and she laughs, bright in the dark of her hallway. I bury my face between her tits, right against my favorite flower.
“I want your clothes off,” I rumble into the deep, red petals.
“I can see that.”
“And I want to take you upstairs.”
I start moving, my hands holding her steady against me. Her nails scratch through my hair and her lips ghost across my forehead, my mouth busy licking the line of her flower stem. I trail a meandering path to her nipple and catch it with my teeth. Her back arches. I suck hard and she gasps my name.
“Do you want to fuck me on the staircase?” she asks, all breathy and sweet.
Promising, but…“No. I want the bed.”
“That’s fine. That’s good,” she babbles, and I reward her with another nip of my teeth as I carry her down the hallway. I’m tempted to press her against the wall, slip my hand into her pants and feel how much she needs me, but I want her bare skin against her blankets. I want to take my time.
I drop her in the middle of her unmade bed, hair half in her face as she laughs and rolls. She holds out her hands for me and that feeling in my chest spreads everywhere else. I still can’t believe I get to have her like this, that she wants me like this.
I ignore her hands and slip my fingers beneath the waistband of her sweatpants. I tug them off with two quick jerks, surprised when I don’t find a stitch of her fancy underwear beneath. No lace. No ribbons. Just Nova and all that pretty ink.
“You ripped three pairs last week,” she explains with a grumble. “I’m going to need to go shopping.”
I laugh and thumb at the flare of her hips. “You tell me this now? When I’m about to leave?” I drop down and press a quick kiss right above her belly button. “I want to go shopping with you.”
She shrugs. “I can send pictures.”
I slip my hand around the back of her neck and tug her to me. “You better.”
I kiss her with everything that’s pressing heavy at my lungs, twisting around and around in my chest. I hold her steady and lick into her mouth, tasting the edge of her moan. I plant one knee on the bed, and her palms find my chest, pressing me back with a laugh.
“Take off your pants,” she orders, bossy even when she’s handed me control. I thumb at her chin and drift it down the line of her throat to the flower between her tits. I cup her breast with a squeeze, and her eyes slip to half-mast.
“Charlie,” she whines.
I drag my thumb over her nipple, back and forth. “What?”
“You’re teasing,” she says.
“Maybe. You said I could have whatever I want.”
“That’s not exactly what I said.”
I pinch her nipple, and she drops her head to the side, blond hair cascading over her shoulder like a river of gold.
“Charlie,” she says again, a gasp in her voice.
“What?”
Her hand slips between her thighs and my mouth goes dry. I watch her hand move, inked fingers playing over soft skin. I can hear how wet she is. How much she needs me where her fingers are.
“Okay, I was teasing you,” I tell her, swallowing hard as her hand moves faster. “I don’t want to tease anymore.”
“Good,” she breathes, eyes closed, hips chasing her touch. “Take off your pants.”
I undo my belt buckle and shrug off my unbuttoned shirt. She slows the movement of her hand between her thighs and watches me with hungry eyes, her tongue at the corner of her mouth. She’s so damn beautiful, hidden pockets of ink accentuating every curve. The flex and release of her arm as she makes herself feel good. I want to sink my teeth into her and make my own marks. Press bruises right next to the garden on her thigh and the galaxy at her hip.
I step out of my pants and kick them to a corner of her room, then curl my hands beneath her knees. I tug her flat to the very edge of the bed, a garbled squeak leaving her mouth when she goes tumbling backward.
I grab her wrist and suck her fingers into my mouth while I fumble through her nightstand for a condom. She tastes like smoke and sex and all my favorite things. My hands shake as I roll it on, thoroughly done with waiting.
“Tell me what you want,” she says, shifting beneath me. “Tell me, Charlie.”
“I want—” My cock nudges between her legs and all the air in my lungs rattles out of me. “I want you to feel me for days after I leave,” I tell her, pressing her wrist over her head and holding her there. My body is trembling with the need to have her, hold her, possess her, keep her. I’m afraid I’ll never get enough.
My other hand finds her throat, and I hold her still, fingers gentle against that fluttering, thrumming pulse. I trace up and down once with my thumb. “I want you to think about me every time you move.”
Her eyes flash in the dark of her bedroom. “Yes,” she breathes.
“I want you to take everything I give you.”
“Yes,” she says again, arching her back, hugging my sides with her knees. I press into her, and we both make deep sounds of agonized appreciation, her hips already moving against me, trying to ride me from below. My hand on her neck squeezes in warning. She stills her body and blinks up at me.
I pull from her slowly before I thrust back in hard.
The bedframe shakes beneath us.
“I want to watch you fall apart.” I release her throat to put my face there instead, sucking a hard kiss where my thumb just was. I want this to never end. I want to stay in this bed with her forever. I want to press myself into her skin like one of her tattoos. I want so much and there’s not enough time for all of it. “I want you, Nova girl. Over and over again.”
Her hand curls around my jaw. She guides my mouth to hers.
“Take everything,” she says with a smile. My favorite one. “It’s already yours.”
?I wake up to Nova perched on my lap, watching me like a little creep.
Everything is shadowed in blues and grays, Nova a brushstroke of golden sunlight spilling out overtop of me. She has all the blankets wrapped around her like a complicated wardrobe choice while I lie stark naked in the middle of the bed without a single sheet. I think it’s the first time she’s given me more than two inches at the very edge.
Progress.
I yawn and stretch my body beneath hers. Something in my ankle pops, and Nova shifts in her blankets, trying to accommodate the movement. But I don’t want her to accommodate anything. I fist my hand in the front of her toga and tug, unhappy with the space between us. She collapses back on top of me with a snort, and I arrange her until her head is nestled under my chin. I curl one arm around her back and let my eyes slip shut again.
Better.
“What time is it?” I mumble.
“Your alarm went off ten minutes ago,” she says into my neck. I drag my fingers through her messy hair, and her body relaxes on top of mine. “I was trying to figure out how to wake you up.”
“Could have let my alarm go off again.”
“Because that worked so well the first time.”
I slide my hand over her bundle and pat in the approximate location of her ass. “It’s okay, Nova girl. You can admit you were watching me sleep.”
“Watching you snore,” she corrects.
“I understand. It’s hard to look away.”
“From the drool, yes.” She wiggles around on top of me until she can tip her face to mine. I trace my fingertips over her forehead and down the slope of her nose. I’ll have to get on the road soon. I’m afraid if I wait any longer, I’ll stay clinging to the edge of Nova’s bed for the rest of forever, waiting for her to share some of her damn sheets.
“You keep doing that,” she says quietly.
I trace the shell of her ear and the ink right beneath. “What?”
“Looking at me like I’m going to disappear.”
I frown. “I’m not.”
“You are.”
I huff and shift beneath her. She goes rolling sideways until I tug her back. I didn’t realize that some of my internal panic was bleeding through. “I don’t want to leave,” I confess.
A sad smile ghosts across her face. She leans up until she can rest her chin on my chest. “When will you be back?”
I lift one shoulder in a shrug. “I don’t know yet. I’ve been away for a while. I’ll have to get some stuff sorted in the city. Is that—” I drag my hand through my hair and then rest it beneath my head, trying to get a better look at her face in the shadowed light. “Is that all right?”
She mirrors my frown. “What?”
“Is it all right that I don’t know when I’ll be back?”
She searches my face carefully. “You’ll text me right?”
I nod.
“And call?”
I nod again.
“Then, yeah. Everything will be fine.” I accept the kiss she brushes against my mouth and will myself to settle, to believe her, to trust that I can be good at this. Mine to have and mine to keep. Isn’t that what she said?
“We’ll figure it out as we go,” she says, yawning into my chin. Her hands pat at my sides. “Keep talking to me and we’ll do it together.”
She rolls out of the bed without another word, taking all the blankets with her. I watch her as she sleepily shuffles across her hardwood floor to her bathroom. The door clicks shut behind her, and I dig my thumb in the middle of my forehead.
“Together,” I repeat.
Together is exactly where I want to be, but it feels a million miles away from where I’m going.