CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
(Charlotte)
Poetic. Not realistic.
I looked over at the man asleep beside me, his words running laps in my head.
Words that he hadn’t even thought about. He’d tossed them off casually. Like it was common sense: no one would walk away from money, for love.
If he would walk away from his money for you, you’d think he was being ridiculous. I couldn’t argue with myself on that point. If he told me tomorrow that he’d given up everything to be with me, I’d tell him to enjoy the sidewalk, because I wasn’t about to sign up for a life of impulsive, reckless decisions.
At least, not coming from the side of this relationship who was supposed to be older and wiser. I was the one who was supposed to be impulsive and reckless.
I hugged my knees to my chest and looked around the dark bedroom, at the big, terrifying windows that showed a city of impossible humanity below. I was sitting in a literal ivory tower with a man who’d dismissed the idea of sacrificing money for love.
Weirdly, one of the things I liked about Matt was his ability to make a remark like that. He said things other people wouldn’t admit to. I never thought one of those things would be that he valued money over love.
Or maybe I was naive.
I’d never considered myself a romantic. If someone asked me three weeks ago, “Would you give up a billion dollars for love?” I would have laughed in their faces and asked for my check.
Now, I was in love. And I would give up everything for him.
And he didn’t feel that way about me.
Maybe I was overreacting. Maybe he wouldn’t feel that way about anyone.
Or he couldn’t.
The people that I’d met over the weekend had seemed like a whole different species. The lavish parties, the vast manor, all of it was impossibly bizarre to me. He hated it and wanted to be “normal.”
My vision blurred and I blinked back tears. This cavernous room with extra tall ceilings and a satellite view of Manhattan was his version of normal.
He rolled to his side, a dark curl falling over his forehead. He was so goddamn beautiful, my heart ached. But how long could he be mine? Would he run at the first sign that our relationship might ask for sacrifice?
So far, I’d done all the sacrificing. I had taken a leave from my brand-new job that I enjoyed. I’d run off for weeks, had barely spoken to my parents or friends aside from the occasional text. His life had fully consumed mine.
And maybe I would have been fine with that, if not for what he’d said tonight.
He opened one eye, and I jumped.
“I had the strangest feeling that someone was staring at me,” he said, his voice sleep-rough.
“Sorry. I couldn’t sleep.”
I couldn’t sleep because I was possibly hyper-fixating on a single thing that you said. A thing I can’t even ask you about and know the truth, because anyone would choose the answer that wouldn’t make them sound like a dick.
He blinked and yawned and rolled over to get his phone off the nightstand. “It’s four-thirty. My alarm is going to go off in a half hour.”
“I’m sorry.” I couldn’t think of anything else to say.
“Don’t apologize. This gives me an extra half hour with you.” He pushed himself up. “Unless you want to work out with me? My trainer is awesome, and I’m sure he wouldn’t mind working with you too.”
“A five a.m. workout? Tempting, but I’ll pass.” My voice was light, but my heart was still heavy.
“Okay.” He grinned at me. “We can do some cardio here.”
He pounced on me with a playful growl. I squealed and pretended to wriggle away, but I didn’t want to. All those bad feelings I’d been alone with in the dark vanished the moment his big, hard body covered mine.
And that was dangerous too. His closeness intoxicated me. Hypnotized me into ignoring my gut instincts and complicated emotions. That was infatuation. It wouldn’t last forever.
But I let it take me over, one last time.
And maybe it wasn’t fair, as he kissed his way down my body and spread my thighs, to let him think that this wasn’t the last time—at least, for now. Maybe I should have stopped him before he pushed into my body, before he pinned my hands to the mattress and drove into me so deep, I knew no one else would ever compare. When I came, guilt consumed me. When he flopped back on the pillows, still breathing hard, I stared up at the ceiling, totally numb.
“I’m going back to California.”
“Hmm?” He opened his eyes in the dim gray of the lightening room. “Tying up loose ends?”
“Something like that.” Fuck, there were the tears. I tried as hard as I could to disguise them. “I think we need to…not take a break but…”
He sat up. “Charlotte?”
“I’m sorry.” I swung my legs over the side of the bed and found my nightgown on the floor. The silky white chemise felt like armor when I put it on. I needed that space between our skin, a barrier for when he inevitably tried to hold me, or my resolve would crumble.
I wished I had a parka or a wet suit or something.
“Wait, wait.” He got up, too, dragging the sheet with him and holding it closed at his waist with the hand he used to lean on his cane. “What’s happening here?”
“We moved really fast.” There was no denying that, no matter how much I’d tried.
“We’ve been talking for months, we—”
“Talking. But we weren’t dating. It’s barely been a week since we decided to try this out,” I reminded him. “Matt, we went at this thing on warp speed.” Fuck, the nerd was rubbing off on me. “I think we need some space.”
“Space.” He nodded and rubbed his stubbled chin. “All right. Space but… You’re not breaking up with me, are you?”
“No. Not yet.” Why did I phrase it that way? “This was a test run of what our life would be like together. I know I said it didn’t bother me to come here and completely abandon my life, but I think—I know—that I need to make sure.”
His sigh of relief cut into my heart. He believed I would be back. I wanted to believe it too. But I couldn’t guarantee that I would be, and I wasn’t sure he realized it.
“Is this why you’ve been up all night?” he asked, moving toward me. “You were afraid I was going to be angry or something?”
“No. I was afraid I was going to hurt you.” I put my hand on his chest to stop him from getting too near. “And I had some things I needed to think about.”
“Which is hard to do when we’re always together. And always fucking.” He gave me a sad little chuckle. “You’re not my prisoner, Charlotte. And you don’t owe me anything. If you need time to think about us, about how you want this relationship to work, I’d rather you take it than let us both burn this thing we have out.”
“But what if I go and I don’t want to come back?”
He swallowed, then rasped, “Well. Then we deal with that when you make that decision. But it’s your decision to make. I can’t force you to be with me.”
“You’re taking this much better than I thought you would,” I said.
“It’s killing me.” His eyes shone and he looked down. “I don’t want to lose you. That’s why I can let you go. Don’t think that it’s easy or that I don’t care.”
I took his free hand and squeezed it. “Don’t think that about me, either, okay?”
“I don’t. When are you wanting to leave?” There was a little flicker of hope in his words that I didn’t want to snuff out.
I had to, though. “Today. Yeah. I think it would be better if I left today.”
“I don’t want to try to change your mind, but I have to know. Did I do something or say something—”
“No.” I lied. Because I was a liar. And a coward. “It’s just something I need to do.”
“Okay.” He nodded, lost in thought for a moment. “Okay, we can get you a plane ticket. Let me call my assistant.”
“Thanks.” I held his hand as he walked away, letting my touch linger. I watched him leave, then sat on the bed. The sky had changed, flooding the bedroom with bright golden light. Everything around me was so soft and clean and easy and beautiful.
Who would ever give this up?
Who would give it up for me?
* * * *
I didn’t want Matt to go with me to the airport. It would be too difficult. Instead, we said goodbye in the foyer.
“I wish you would take more with you,” he said, nudging the bag beside me. “All of those clothes are yours.”
“I know, but what’s the point in packing them all up if I end up coming right back?” I forced a smile. Something awful, deep in my heart, warned me that I wouldn’t be coming back. That this would be the last time, barring Scott having another wedding, that Matt and I would be together.
And it was such a silly way to feel. Nothing was forcing me to break up with Matt.
“Do you see yourself coming right back?” He asked.
I could barely see myself walking out the door.
“You… You want to be with me, right?” I blurted, never intending to ask the question.
Matt pulled me into his arms, practically crushing me with his embrace. “Are you kidding? Of course I want to be with you. The thought of coming back to this apartment tonight and you being all the way across the country is… Well, it’s not doing anything to me at the moment, because I’m trying not to think about it.”
I let out a shaky breath. “Good. I’m just making sure.”
“I can call you, right?” He asked, kissing the top of my head. “Is that a boundary?”
We were still dating. I hadn’t broken up with him, despite what our parting felt like. “I planned to call you tonight when I got in. And yeah, I expect you to call me. You’re my boyfriend.”
“Good. Because I was worried for a minute there.” He released me and held me at arm’s length. “We’ve been long distance before. We can do it again.”
“Exactly. But maybe don’t call me while you’re fucking someone else.” My stomach soured. I hadn’t even considered the effect our open sexual agreement might have on our relationship when we weren’t physically together.
“Please don’t do that to me either,” he said. “I’m trying not to be insecure here, but it doesn’t feel like it would be fun, in this context.”
I was glad we were on the same page. Otherwise, I’d sit at home worried that he was going to bring home someone more beautiful, more appropriate to his way of life, and they would click, and I would be a complication that had to be dealt with. I didn’t need whoever that ended up being haunting my memory with their ecstatic moans for the rest of my regretful life.
Thoughts like those proved how much I needed to get away and clear my head. My fear that he would somehow forget me or move on because I went back to California would override the common sense telling me to take time and sort things out. Staying to protect my claim on him would be disastrous. And even though I was leaving with the fear that a breakup would be inevitable, if I stayed because of that fear, I’d be sabotaging the relationship.
Poetic. Not realistic. Being realistic sucked.
“Would you agree that for now, while we’re apart, we don’t have sex with other people?” He winced. “God, that sounds so needy.”
I almost wept with relief. “No, it doesn’t. At all. I wanted that. I was afraid to ask but—Oh, that shouldn’t apply to your circle jerk. You need that. For stress.”
“We don’t have sex with each other, anyway,” he assured me. “There are a lot of straight guys there and you know how they get.”
“Right.” I laughed nervously. “This isn’t forever.”
“I hope it’s not.” His eyes roamed over my face, like he was trying to scan a perfect 3D image of me. “I love you, Charlotte. I know you think that’s impossible. But I love you. Whatever you need from me, you can always ask.”
“Thanks.”
His phone chimed. He took it from his pocket and glanced at it. “The car is here.”
I took a breath that sounded more like a gasp. “This is it, then.”
“Don’t say it like that,” he said softly. “Please don’t. Even if you’re lying to me right now and you have no intention of seeing me again, let me pretend it’s see you later and not goodbye.”
Somehow, I managed to smile at him. I put my hand on his cheek—the impulse to throw my arms around him and apologize for even considering leaving was so strong—and said, “It is see you later. I’m going to have to come back and visit my clothes.”
“Right.” He laughed and put his hands in his pockets. “Well… I want to kiss you, but I’m afraid if I do, I’ll drag you back to the bedroom and exhaust you until you’re physically unable to leave.”
I looped my arms around his neck and said, “Don’t say that or I might let you,” before rising up on the balls of my feet to bring our mouths together.
There was nothing soft or romantic about our kiss. It was desperate, clinging. Mournful. He kissed me like he was about to put me on the last available lifeboat. Like he knew, deep down, that it was the very last time.
It can’t be, I told myself firmly. I cannot run this time. Please, don’t run this time.
I pulled back and didn’t try to disguise my tears. “I’m not going to screw this up for us.”
“I know you’re not,” he whispered. “That’s why you’re going.”
“Thank you for understanding.”
“I will do anything for you,” he swore. “Anything you need me to do to make this work, I’ll do it. For as long as it will take.”
“I know.”
But I didn’t. And that’s why I had to leave.
I pushed the button to open the elevator and stepped on. “I’ll call you when I get in.”
“I love you,” he said as the doors began to close.
“I love you, too.”
It’s not final. You can press that button right there and call it all off. That’s all it takes. A press of that “open doors” button.
No. There had to be a moment where there was no turning back, and this one was as good as any. I held in my tears until the doors completely closed, then let them fall.