CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
(Matt)
I found Charlotte on the terrace, clutching her phone in both hands and staring off at the gardens. When she heard me approach, she turned, her tear-streaked face ashen.
“I’m so sorry,” she whispered, her knuckles white around her phone. “I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have—”
“Don’t apologize.” I went to her side and put my arms around her, though she seemed frozen in her current position. “She’ll get over it. Or she won’t. Either way, it needed to be said.”
What kind of a boyfriend would I be if I scolded Charlotte for defending her brother, and by extension, herself? Maybe a better boyfriend would have stepped in and done it himself, but Charlotte had been on a roll.
“Honestly, I wanted to say the same thing,” I began, kissing her forehead. “But I was afraid that I’d be next in line for the guillotine if I interrupted.”
That got a sniffly laugh out of her, and her shoulders sagged in relief. “I’m sorry. To you. Not to your mom. But now you have the me of it all to deal with, too.”
I shook my head. “No. I don’t plan to address this with her. If she wants to talk about it, it can be in apology form. From her, not to her. Just... don’t hold your breath for it, okay?”
Mother could hold serious grudges.
I decided to change tactics. “Why don’t we go up to my room, change into comfortable clothes, then head down to the lake and chill out?”
Her eyes widened. “We’re still staying here? Even after—”
“Why not? It’s my home, too,” I argued. “And I want to be here if Catherine comes back. Run interference for her and all that.”
A tiny wrinkle of confusion appeared between Charlotte’s brows.
“She’s a pain in the ass, but she’s my sister,” I said, explaining before she could ask the question. “And if Elizabeth and Catherine are getting along, my life is a lot easier.”
“Ah.” She smiled in understanding and stepped back to wipe her eyes. As she did, she checked the phone screen.
“Is he calling back?” There was no doubt in my mind that she’d contacted Scott the second she’d stormed out of the house.
She gave a slight shake of her head and slipped the phone into her jacket. “I texted him, but nothing yet.”
“It’s possible that mother’s panic is rubbing off on you,” I suggested gently. “There’s no reason to assume anything is wrong. They probably turned their phones off to avoid us.”
“That doesn’t mean I don’t still want to yell at him.
” She walked ahead of me into the house and waited for me on the other side of the door.
We took the stairs together, one hand on my cane and one on the railing while she hovered close by.
I’d never figured out what she thought she was going to do if I fell; she couldn’t have caught me.
Even trying would take both of us down. But I wasn’t certain that her caution was even a conscious decision on her part or instinct.
In the room, we went through our bags and got changed into more casual clothing.
I noted the time on the clock on the mantle.
It wasn’t so late that we couldn’t reasonably get back to the city; we’d hit rush hour traffic, though the congestion was always worse leaving than entering at the end of the day.
I did want to stay, to “help,” if that was possible at all, although I didn’t know who I planned to help.
Maybe Mother, when she’d sobered up a little.
Or Catherine, if she did come back. She certainly didn’t lack the nerves required for a second confrontation.
I just didn’t want both of her children to storm out in anger on the same day.
She wasn’t right, but that didn’t mean I needed to hurt her.
And besides, Charlotte and I deserved a day off, after all of that.
I gave a low whistle as Charlotte pulled her denim cut-offs over her hips. They were long enough not to be too-short, but short enough that the pockets peeked out below the edge of the legs.
“What?” She looked down. “You told me to bring something for outside.”
“Yeah, I had a feeling we were going to end up putting as much distance between us and the house as possible.” It was too bad that the little boathouse on the lake was so far away.
I wouldn’t chance it with my leg, and it had probably fallen into disuse, anyhow.
But when I’d been a teenager, it had been a great place for hookups.
“And we need to take advantage of the weather.” Of course, Charlotte would find a positive spin to put on everything. “It’s going to start getting colder any day now.”
“That’s what I’ve been told,” I said grimly, pulling my t-shirt on. “I’ll believe it when I see it, but these days I assume we’ll never have another winter.”
“Today’s been enough of a bummer,” she said, a note of humor in her voice. “Maybe we can talk about the climate crisis at another time.”
“Okay,” I agreed, and sat down to put on my tennis shoes. “But there isn’t much more time.”
She snorted a laugh. “Okay. We can go find a relaxing, romantic spot from where we can contemplate the inevitable heat death of our planet.”
Once we were dressed, with a couple of joints safely in my t-shirt pocket, we went downstairs and out through the kitchen.
This was a shorter route and afforded us a chance to grab snacks.
The staff packed up a lunch and even provided us with a blanket, which we accepted gratefully.
Then, I flagged down a landscaper for a ride on his golf cart, and we were safely away from my mother’s palace of guilt and recrimination.
“This is weird,” Charlotte said, laughing, as she spread out the blanket on the grass. Of course, it wasn’t the white-and-red gingham dictated by tradition, but a subdued forest green and dark blue tartan, perfect for getting lost later, probably.
“Yeah, I don’t know why it’s that color scheme.” I lowered myself onto the blanket, catching myself with one hand when my leg decided to fuck out.
“Not the blanket,” she said, dropping the basket beside me. “The fact that we’re having this romantic date in the middle of a workday, right after I destroyed any hope of a peaceful relationship with my future—”
I gave her a crooked smile.
“Okay, shut up. That didn’t mean anything. It was a slip of the tongue.” She jutted her chin toward the basket. “What do we have?”
I opened the lid. “Bottle of white wine… some meat, some cheese… baguette…”
“Very provincial,” she said with a nod of approval.
We unpacked everything, including the cheese board and fine china plates, filled our delicate crystal glasses with wine, and gazed out in contented silence across the serene lake.
“This is nice,” Charlotte said, swallowing a bite. “I’m not used to being around small water. If we went to the beach, it was the ocean, and it was crowded and loud.”
“Benefit of having a private lake. Although, I wouldn’t recommend skinny dipping.” I wriggled my fingers at her. “Leeches.”
She grimaced in disgust. “Sounds like personal experience.”
“Unfortunately.”
She brushed crumbs off her shirt and leaned back on her hands. “So, do you bring everyone you date out here?”
I shrugged. “Only the important ones.”
Although, I wouldn’t have called my relationship with Charlotte “dating.” We lived together. We’d talked, albeit briefly, about marriage. “Date” didn’t seem like a serious-enough word for it.
“You know,” I began, cautious about raising the subject again. “When my mom… you know, the eventuality of death… anyway. I’ll inherit this place.”
Charlotte made a noncommittal, “hmm.”
“Which means,” I went on, “ you will also inherit it.”
Her eyes widened, then she composed her expression. “Yeah, well. Let’s hope that’s not for a long time.”
“Because you wish my mother a long and happy life?” I teased. “Or because you don’t want to move out to the middle of nowhere?”
“Both,” she said firmly.
“We could put a little cabin out here,” I mused playfully. “So we could pretend to rough it.”
“With meals delivered by the staff, of course,” she said with a roll of her eyes. “But you never know.”
Something changed in her. The tiniest shift of emotion on her face that shocked me into the realization of how well I knew her. She wasn’t a mystery to me, anymore. I wasn’t as afraid of terrifying her with talk of the future or over sharing my feelings. I knew her the way I knew my left arm.
And I couldn’t afford to lose my left arm.
“What do you mean, things change?” I asked.
“You know. Maybe in twenty years, when you do inherit this place... you won’t be with me.” She gazed off across the lake. “Maybe you’ll have found some other high society person who fits into your life better.”
I scooted closer to her and took her hands in mine. “No one will ever fit into my life better, Charlotte. Where’s this coming from?”
“The fact that I verbally bashed your mother for what felt like an hour,” she said, her cheeks going pink.
“You only said things she needed to hear.” I wouldn’t let Charlotte chase herself away with unearned guilt. I’d worked too hard to keep her. She’d worked too hard to keep us.
“Listen,” I said, shifting onto my knees despite the pain that ripped up my bum leg. “We’re both going to change. Circumstances are going to change, and they’re going to change us. That’s life. But you and me? That’s not going to change.”
“I’m doing that thing again,” she said softly. “Overthinking.”
“Then maybe...” I pushed the cheese board aside. “It’s time to clear your head.”
She lifted an eyebrow.
I gently pushed her back on the blanket and lay beside her, propped on my elbow to look down into her face.
Her pulse quickened at the base of her throat, and when I leaned down, she raised her head, meeting my mouth with her own.
I let the kiss go on and on; we had plenty of time, and no one would overhear us.
Kissing a gorgeous person beside a peaceful lake, surrounded by fall colors peeking out from some of the earliest trees. .. there were few things better.