Chapter 27 Charlie
Chapter twenty-seven
Charlie
The fire crackles in the pit, sending embers dancing into the star-studded Colorado night.
We've formed an awkward semicircle on the deck—Ethan and Olivia sitting stiffly together, Emily sprawled in an Adirondack chair, Bash beside me with his arm casually draped behind my shoulders, and Sarah completing our circle.
"I still can't believe they destroyed us in trivia," Emily says loudly, taking a sip of her spiked hot chocolate and looking directly at Ethan.
Ethan forces a smile. "The categories were clearly biased. Who knows about 80s power ballads anymore?"
"Apparently Charlie does," Sarah chimes in, raising her mug in my direction. "And that classical literature round? She was unstoppable."
I feel Bash's fingers squeeze my shoulder. Pride radiates from him, and I can't help but lean into his touch.
"Well, we did win the scavenger hunt," Olivia points out, her voice honeyed but with an edge sharp enough to cut glass.
"By cheating," Emily mumbles into her mug.
"What was that?" Olivia asks, though we all heard perfectly well.
The tension thickens. I drain the last of my hot chocolate, grateful for the warmth of the alcohol flowing through my veins.
"I'm getting a refill," I announce, standing. "Anyone else need one?"
"I'm good," Bash says, brushing his hand against mine as I take his mug.
"I'd love a refill." Sarah hands me her mug.
"Me too!" Emily says with a smile.
"I'll help," Olivia says, surprising everyone as she stands.
"No need—" I begin.
"I insist." Her smile doesn't reach her eyes.
Great. Just what I need.
In the kitchen, I set the mugs down harder than necessary, splash in some schnapps, and top them with hot chocolate from the pot still warming on the stove. Olivia leans against the counter, watching me with calculated casualness.
"You two seem... cozy," she says finally.
"We are." I don't elaborate.
"How long have you been dating again?"
"Four months."
"That's so... quick. After you and Ethan, I mean."
I focus on stirring my drink. "Not that quick apparently."
"Yeah, you're right." Olivia's voice drips with false niceties. "Time flies when you're in love, I suppose."
Something in her tone makes me pause. I look up to find her studying me, a small, satisfied smile playing at the corners of her mouth.
"Ethan and I are so happy," she continues, twisting her enormous engagement ring. "Sometimes the heart just wants what it wants, you know? We didn't mean to fall in love, but when it's right..." She trails off with a delicate shrug.
My stomach clenches. There's something calculated in her words—the practiced innocence, the way she's watching for my reaction.
"When did you two start dating?" I ask, striving for casualness.
"Oh, you know..." She waves her hand vaguely.
"Actually, I don't. Ethan never mentioned you before we broke up. I mean, I'd seen you at his company parties but outside of that…nothing."
Olivia reaches for a marshmallow from the bowl on the counter. "Well, we knew each other through work, as you know. He was so... conflicted. About your relationship." She pops the marshmallow in her mouth, chewing delicately. "He just wasn't happy, Charlie. Surely you felt that?"
The rage building inside me is so sudden and fierce that for a moment, I can't speak. My hands grip the counter edge.
"When. Olivia." My voice is quiet but steady. "When did you start seeing each other?"
She hesitates, and I see calculation behind her eyes. Then she smiles—a slow, victorious smile. "If you must know... we had been talking for a while. Months, really."
"Before or after he broke things off with me?"
She examines her manicure. "A bit before. But don't take it personally. He just realized I was more... compatible with his goals."
My blood boils so hot I'm surprised steam isn't coming out of my ears. six months ago, I was devastated when Ethan abruptly ended our relationship, claiming he "wasn't ready" and needed to "find himself." Then two weeks ago, there he was on Instagram, proposing to someone else in Paris.
And now I know why.
"So you were sleeping with my fiancé while we were still together." It's not a question.
Her eyes widen in mock innocence. "I wouldn't put it so crudely. We had a connection that transcended—"
"Just say yes or no."
She sighs dramatically. "Yes, okay? But Charlie, these things happen. He wasn't happy with you. He is with me."
Something shifts inside me. The hurt and rage I expected are there, but alongside them is a strange, almost pitying clarity.
"I'm sorry," I say suddenly.
She blinks, clearly thrown off. "What?"
"I'm sorry for you, Olivia."
"Excuse me?" Her perfectly shaped eyebrows arch high.
"If Ethan was willing to cheat on me with you, what makes you think he won't cheat on you with someone else?"
The color drains from her face, replaced by an angry flush. "That's different. We're engaged. We're getting married and he says he loves me."
I lean forward, dropping my voice. "So were we, almost. He said the same things to me and then suddenly he 'wasn't ready.' And now here you are, with a rock on your finger thinking you're special."
"You don't know what you're talking about," she hisses.
"Don't I? The problem wasn't that Ethan wasn't ready for marriage, Olivia. The problem was that he wasn't ready to marry me. And maybe one day he'll decide he's not ready to be married to you, either."
Her face contorts with fury. "You're just jealous. He chose me. He loves me."
"Maybe he does." I shrug, surprised at how little I care. "But love didn't stop him from cheating on me with you, did it?"
Her eyes fill with tears. "You're a bitch."
"No, I'm honest. And genuinely sorry for what's coming your way." I feel a strange, venomous compassion as I add, "At least I found out before the wedding."
She grabs her mug so hard I'm surprised the liquid doesn't spill out. "You don't know anything about our relationship."
"I know enough, and I grew up with him. I know how fickle he can be, it all makes sense now."
She storms out of the kitchen, and I hear her shrill voice from the deck. "Ethan, it's time to go. Now."
I stand there, hands shaking slightly, as I process what just happened. Confirmation that he did cheat on me. The story I'd constructed, that he'd broken up with me and then met someone new, was a lie. He'd been unfaithful, for months, before he finally worked up the courage to end things.
And strangely... I'm okay with it.
The pain is there—the betrayal still stings—but it's distant, like an old injury that only aches when the weather changes.
What I feel most prominently is relief. Relief that I found out, relief that I'm not married to someone capable of such deception, and relief that, for the first time since our breakup, I truly don't want him back.
I take a deep breath, pick up the three mugs, and return to the deck just in time to see Ethan and Olivia hurrying down the deck's stairs towards the Harpers home.
"What happened in there?" Bash asks quietly as I settle back beside him. His eyes are concerned, searching mine.
"A revelation," I murmur, curling into his side. "Apparently Ethan and Olivia were seeing each other before he broke up with me."
Emily gasps. "That rat bastard! I knew it!"
Sarah's expression hardens. "Men can be trash. Present company excluded," she adds with a nod to her brother.
Bash's arm tightens around me. "Are you okay?" His voice is low, just for me.
I look up at him, taking in the genuine concern in his eyes, the protective set of his jaw, the way his body has shifted to shield me. And I realize something that should probably terrify me but somehow doesn't.
"Yeah," I say, surprised to find it's true. "I really am."
"What did you say to her?" Emily demands. "She looked like she was about to cry or murder someone, possibly both."
I take a sip of my hot chocolate. "I just pointed out that if Ethan cheated on me, he'll probably cheat on her too. And that I felt sorry for her."
Emily's eyes widen. "Damn, Charlie."
"That was impressively cold-blooded," Sarah says with a hint of admiration.
"It wasn't meant to be cruel," I say. "I actually do feel sorry for her. She thinks she won, but she's marrying someone who's already proven he's capable of lying to someone he claimed to love."
Bash studies me. "And how do you feel about that? About Ethan?"
It's the million-dollar question. A month ago, this revelation would have devastated me all over again. But now?
"Honestly?" I look around at the three faces watching me—my sister, Bash's sister, and Bash himself. "I feel free."
Emily raises her mug. "To freedom from cheating assholes."
"I'll drink to that," Sarah agrees.
Bash doesn't raise his mug, though. He's still looking at me, his eyes searching mine as if making sure I'm really okay. There's something so tender in his gaze that my breath catches.
"To being exactly where you're meant to be," he says finally, his eyes never leaving mine as he clinks his mug against mine.
And sitting there, with the stars above and the fire crackling, his arm warm around my shoulders, I can't help but think he might be right. Maybe this is exactly where I'm meant to be.
Even if it started as a lie, what I'm feeling now, the comfort of his touch, the warmth in his eyes, the way my heart beats faster when he looks at me, that's real.
And it scares me how much I want it to stay that way.