Chapter 49
CHARLIE
“Charlie darling!”
One moment, I’m toeing out of my shoes in the tiled entry of Aunt Holly and Uncle Thomas’s house, the next, I’m wrapped in the strangling embrace of five and a half feet of (today) pink haired, nearly suffocating enthusiasm.
Grinning so wide it makes my cheeks ache, I return Gemma’s hug. It’s been over a month since I’ve seen her and, totally happy as I’ve been to stay in Riverside with Myles, I’ve missed her like crazy.
“I’m adding this to your list of crimes, you know.
” Gemma disentangles herself from me enough to point and scowl over my shoulder where, I look back to see, Myles is standing, nervously shifting from foot to foot as his hand works over the back of his neck.
“Keeping Charlie too busy to come and see me.” She shakes her head disapprovingly.
A moment later though, she’s giving me a light shove, ducking out of my arms and half tackling a startled Myles back against the wall in a hug every bit as suffocating as the one I’ve just escaped.
Myles’s eyebrows disappear into his curls, and I dissolve into laughter as he stares at me with a helpless expression before, totally obviously baffled by my cousin’s quintessentially untrackable behavior, reaching up to return the hug.
“Do you ever start being able to guess what she’s going to say or do next?”
A soft, low voice I recognize from over the phone makes me turn around to come face to face with a woman I instantly know has to be Rosa. Gemma’s described her enough times, I’d recognize her anywhere. And, just like Gem’s said, she’s absolutely stunning.
Rosa has long waves of purply-auburn-dyed hair and warm, cinnamon colored skin that makes her dark eyes and rose-colored lips stand out gorgeously. Her smile is open and bright and friendly, totally at odds with the almost shy sounding quiet of her voice.
“Nope.” I shake my head with a grin. “I mean, not really. There are patterns, but…” I trail off, gesturing toward where Gemma is now chatting away with Myles like the two of them are old friends.
Myles at least doesn’t look terrified anymore, and when our eyes meet, the happy, relieved smile he flashes me makes my heart skip.
I love this. I love that he’s finally seen what I’d never realized he didn’t know; that my family loves him and that he’s a part of all of us.
I love that Gemma seems, once and for all, ready to bury the hatchet and not only forgive him, but embrace him as a part of our little duo that’s suddenly just doubled with the additions of him and Rosa.
Speaking of… I turn my attention back to Rosa, only to see her watching Gemma with an expression that’s so completely the same as how I know I was just looking at Myles that it makes my heart give another (totally different but no less happy) skip.
There’s a sound of more feet on the porch outside, making the four of us realize we’re blocking the entry way.
Myles’s hand slips into mine as he steps forward to make room for whoever’s just arrived, and that already skipping beat of my heart doubles, warming and thrilling until it’s all I can process.
His grip on my hand is relaxed. Easy. Just as natural as his smile as he turns his attention to Rosa as Gemma introduces the two of them.
The door opens as we’re about to step into the already crowded living room, and in burst two purple coat clad, preschool-aged girls, perfect copies of each other with their wild heads of black curls.
One stops short when she sees us, backing cautiously up until she collides with Gemma’s sister Ellie, who’s just hurried through the door after the pair, while the other darts around us, making straight for Gemma’s mom with a squeal of “Gwammie!”
Ellie’s just stooping to scoop up her daughter when the door opens again, letting in three men.
First comes Ellie’s husband Alex, broadly smiling and balancing a large bakery box (presumably containing tonight’s birthday cake) in his arms. He’s followed closely by his friend Jesse, a tall, kind-faced man wearing, as always, the worst possible color of sweater for his blonde, rosy complexion.
Ever since his boyfriend died six years ago, my aunt and uncle pretty much adopted him, making him a permanent fixture at our family gatherings.
The last one through the door has to be Jesse’s new boyfriend, who, I’ve got to admit, I’ve been super curious to meet ever since Gemma mentioned him. Jesse’s a sweetheart, but he’s just about the shyest, most awkward man ever, and, as far as I know, he’s been totally alone for over half a decade.
Before I really get a chance to even process a thought about the guy, beyond noticing that he’s short and slim, not to mention extremely good looking, with black hair and what look like tattoos sneaking up from his collar (surprising, considering how straight-laced and frankly nerdy Jesse is), whichever of Gemma’s nieces Ellie’s holding starts squirming in her mom’s arms, reaching for the newcomer with a demand of, “Give me to Twistan!”
Gemma pokes me in the ribs, grinning as I turn to her in surprise, watching out of the corner of my eye as Ellie passes her obviously thrilled daughter to “Twistan,” whose waist Jesse now has an almost possessively protective looking arm wrapped around.
“Told you Tristan’s the best!” Gemma looks positively gleeful.
I know we’ve all been (relatively) secretly worried about Jesse, and, considering the fact that, over the years, Gemma’s gotten to know him fairly well, she’s been even more concerned than I have.
Both Gemma’s nieces are chatty, enthusiastic little balls of energy, but I only know this from watching them with Gemma or Jesse or the other small circle of adults they really know.
Seeing them a few times a year is definitely not enough to make me count as a member of this elite group.
So the fact that either of the twins have so quickly warmed up to Jesse’s new boyfriend like this?
Then add in the totally adoring expression on Jesse’s face and the equally smitten look Tristan casts him in return, and I can totally see why Gemma is so thrilled.
A good hour into circulating—wishing Uncle Thomas a happy birthday, telling Aunt Holly how gorgeous her garden that she always works so hard on is looking, hearing the latest about how the twins are doing from Ellie and Alex as the four of us watch Jesse and Tristan escorting them back from collecting the slices of cake the girls had tried to get for themselves, filling countless people in on how my life as a small-town teacher is going, and introducing Myles about a dozen times—Myles and I ended up in the kitchen with a giggling Gemma and Rosa shoving a drink into each of our hands.
“I only put half a shot in yours,” Gemma assures me before I even have a chance to ask. “Believe me, babe, I know better than to give you a grownup drink.” She rolls her eyes good naturedly as she turns to pass an identical looking drink to Myles, whose lip is twitching in amusement.
“Why can’t Charlie have a real drink?”
The traitor’s actually laughing now. Not to mention talking about me like I’m not even here.
And of course, he only laughs more when I smack him on the shoulder for his disloyalty. I really can’t be too put out though because, next thing I know, he’s wrapping an arm around my waist and pulling me in for a lingering, sweet kiss on my cheek.
Before I have a chance to get over how soft and warm his lips are, paired with the silky prickle of his scruff against my skin, I’ve lost my chance to point out that I could answer the question for myself, thank you very much, because Gemma’s already explaining what a total lightweight I am.
“One big boy drink, and Charlie’s done. Which is why he never drinks.” Gemma grins at Myles as I shake my head.
Not that what she’s saying isn’t totally true…
When I take a cautious sip of the drink, something bright pink that tastes way more like lemonade than alcohol, I’m reassured that Gemma’s been sufficiently careful with the portion of whatever kind of liquor she’s added.
The embarrassing thing is that every word of what Gemma said really is entirely true.
By the time I’m to the bottom of my glass, even that half a shot is making my head feel a bit spinney, and I’m having to work extra hard to filter; like how ridiculously difficult it is not to giggle at literally everything Myles says, because really, isn’t he just the cutest ever?
And oooh, don’t even get me started on how much effort it’s taking to keep my hands to myself.
Or…at least to myself enough to pass for family-gathering appropriate.
Okay, fine. So maybe I’m not doing quite as good of a job as I’d thought, because I do have to admit that I’d maybe gotten just a teensy bit carried away, stroking my fingers up and down Myles’s chest, totally loving how I could feel the texture of his chest hair and the hard buds of his nipples through his lightweight shirt.
(But ohmigod, can you really blame me? He has the sexiest pecs…)
When I give one of those delicious pecs just the tiniest squeeze, Myles flashes me a halfway amused, halfway startled look before politely excusing us from our conversation about plans to meet downtown tomorrow for an afternoon of shopping with an even more amused looking Gemma and Rosa.
Taking me by the hand, he leads from the kitchen, straight out through the French doors onto the back deck.
The weather this spring has been unpredictable, and even though it was warm only a couple days ago, it’s turned cold with a light, misty rain again, so we have the space to ourselves.
“So, what are we doing out here?” I swear I really didn’t mean the question to come out quite as suggestively as it did.
“I think you could use a little air,” he grins, tugging me around the corner and out of sight from the windows—a choice I wholeheartedly approve of.
“Please tell me that’s code for you loved me touching you, and now you just have to make out with me?” I grab hold of his waist and push him back against the wall of the house.
His head falls back as he lets out a quiet groan when I press my hips up and into his, but a second later, like he’s pulling himself together, he laughs, shaking his head.
“It’s code for, yeah, I loved you touching me, but I didn’t think your whole extended family needed to see exactly how much I was loving it. ”
“Is that what this is about?” I arch a little closer against the unmistakable bulge in his jeans, and he groans again.
“Don’t pretend like you didn’t already know.
Seriously though,” he lifts his head with an almost pained expression on his face.
“I don’t think I can handle tipsy Charlie if he’s going to do things like that to me.
At least, not with your family around. Gorgeously sexy, makeup and leggings-wearing Charlie is bad enough. ”
“I thought you liked what I was wearing.”
He laughs at my pouty expression, winding his arms around my neck and tugging me closer.
“I love what you’re wearing.” He presses a soft, way too short kiss to my lips.
“I love it too much, is the problem. And then there’s the fact that I get to touch you.
Sort of. I thought this would be easier than when we’re at work, but it’s worse.
You look hot as hell and you keep touching me, and I swear to god, Charlie, I just can’t—”
I cut him off with a kiss that he instantly lets me deepen, tilting his head and parting his lips as I suck the lower one between my own. His hands are just slipping up the back of my sweater when a sharp scoff makes both our eyes fly open.