CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
(Matthew)
My apartment had never seemed empty before. Not like it did now that Charlotte had left.
I called the office and said I wouldn’t be coming to work. It was okay, since I owned the company, but I felt like a jackass going back for a single day after my long absence, only to stay at home with a broken heart right away.
And it was foolish for my heart to even be broken in the first place. She hadn’t left me. She’d gone home. There had never been any understanding between us that she would stay past the week we’d agreed to. So what if she’d cut things three days short?
This isn’t an indication that she doesn’t want to be with you, I tried to convince myself. It’s normal to not move in with someone the instant you start dating.
All of my past relationships had moved fast. Too fast, considering their duration. And Charlotte had left because she wanted to protect us from making the same mistakes. I should have been thrilled that my girlfriend was willing to pump the brakes for our own good, when I clearly wasn’t able to.
But Charlotte also had a history of running. Scott had said so. Fuck, she had said so. And the way she’d come to this decision so suddenly, in the middle of the night, put my nerves on high alert.
Everything had been fine, until she overheard her brother and my sister. Then, something had sent everything into what felt like a downward spiral.
I couldn’t put my finger on what.
Though I’d canceled with my trainer that morning, I spent way too long in my gym and expended way more physical energy than I should have. My arms were spaghetti noodles, and my leg screamed in pain with every step I took after my marathon session on the recumbent bike. Worse, all that exercise hadn’t quelled my nervous energy.
I’d gotten out of the shower when I noticed my phone screen illuminated with a text notification.
Scott.
I flicked the screen and read his message: I can’t get ahold of Charlotte. Can you see if she wants to do lunch today?
I looked at the message for a long time. I could tell him that the reason he couldn’t reach his sister was because she got up in the middle of the night and decided to run away.
And that it hadn’t escaped my notice that this event coincided with our discussion about him fucking my sister.
“Ah, fuck it.” I picked up my phone and tapped out, I’ve got the day off. Come on over.
“Yeah, come on over,” I muttered to myself. “Come over and answer for your crimes, dickwad.”
He answered almost immediately. OMW.
I went to my closet to get dressed. I didn’t even look toward Charlotte’s. She’ll be back. She’ll be back.
She hadn’t been gone for a full two hours, and I was already a mess. So, it was probably good that she’d left. If she could see the inside of my head right now, she’d never set foot on the entire East Coast ever again.
I gave my head of staff a quick call to let him know that Scott was on the way and to let him come straight up, and I advised the kitchen that I’d have another guest for lunch.
Then, I sat down and considered what the hell I was going to say to him. It had been easier to be chill about the whole thing before I’d put two and two together: it wasn’t a coincidence that Charlotte chose to leave right after our conversation about Scott and Catherine. Something had spooked her. I didn’t know what.
By the time Scott arrived, I’d decided to get everything out in the open, as quickly as possible.
He met me in the formal living room, where I sat in the low, sturdy armchair directly facing the doors.
“Hey, man. Where’s Charlotte?”
“Charlotte is on a flight back to California,” I said. “She left this morning.”
He looked over his shoulder in confusion, then back to me. “Wait, why?”
“Because she found out that you were fucking my sister, got freaked out, and left.” I gave myself a moment of mean satisfaction at the shock on his face before continuing. “Yeah, as it turns out, the whole time you were worried that me fucking your sister would mess things up for you and me, it was you fucking my sister that caused the problem.”
“Hey,” he snapped. “Don’t talk about them like that.”
“I’m sorry, was there some other way to describe what you were doing with my sister? Were you two dating? Were you in love?” I asked.
“Come on—”
“Because from what Charlotte overheard, you were taking the breakup pretty hard. You didn’t realize that while Catherine was cheating on her husband with you, she was also cheating on you with someone else?” I waited for something. A response, maybe. Or a punch.
Scott offered neither. He sighed heavily and walked like a man in lead boots all the way to the sofa. “I was going to tell you.”
“I’m sure you were. Were you having a difficult time trying to figure out a way to do that while simultaneously justifying your hypocrisy?” God, I hoped he felt as squirmy and sleazy as I had when he’d confronted me about Charlotte and I. “How did it even happen? When?”
“After your blood clot.” He gestured to my leg. “When you were basically comatose. I came to see you, and Catherine was there.”
“Did you think, great, I’ll get payback now for him sleeping with my sister?” It was unfair to attribute that motive to him; Scott was a good person. He wouldn’t do anything that shitty.
“No.” He shook his head firmly. “It never crossed my mind.”
“Then how did it happen? Because I know it wasn’t her sparkling personality that attracted you to her.”
“Don’t talk about her like that,” he snapped. He pushed his hand through his hair. “We thought you were going to die. She was inconsolable, and one thing led to another.”
“I’m sorry, Catherine was inconsolable about the fact that I might have died?” That was a little too far-fetched.
“Yes. She doesn’t like you, but you’re still her brother. And she was worried about the effect it would have on your mom and— You know what? I don’t have to fix your family problems. If you want to know how she felt about you almost dying, go ask her yourself.” He stood up and stalked toward the door.
“You don’t have an obligation to fix my family problems, but if you walk out now, we’re going to have an unfixable friendship,” I warned him, getting to my feet. The deathly calm of my voice startled me.
He turned. “I didn’t do anything to our friendship that you didn’t do too.”
“You did it first.” That sounded so childish. I tried again. “You knew you’d slept with my sister, and you’d had enough of a relationship with her that you thought you loved her. But when I fell in love with your sister—who is now running away from me as fast as a commercial airliner can fly—you acted like I’d set fire to your dog!”
“Yeah, maybe I didn’t react correctly when I was left at the altar while my best friend was being attacked by a grizzly bear, and he chose that exact moment to disclose that he had sex with my much younger sister. But this is exactly what I was worried was going to happen. She’s going to run off and break both of your hearts.”
“She’s coming back!”
“She doesn’t come back!”
I wished he would have just punched me.
“Look,” he began, the rasp in his voice an apology, “I don’t know what happened that sent her running. But she seemed happy with you. Happier than I’ve seen her in a long time. Did you have an argument or something?”
“No. She was a little distant after she overheard you and Catherine.” I’d been over and over the conversation in my mind. “We didn’t argue about it at all.”
“Maybe you said something in anger about me?” Scott suggested.
“Nice try.”
“I’m not asking so I can be pissed off at you. Charlotte feels responsible for me because she feels like she failed me when she was born.” The words must taste like gasoline to him, judging by his expression. “If you said something she interpreted as unfair to me, even if it was a random comment that you made in anger, that could have been enough to get into her head.”
“I don’t remember saying anything about you that she didn’t agree with. She was more angry at you than I was.” I wish I had a transcript of the conversation. Words rose murkily to the surface of my mind. She’d cried. What had I said right before I noticed that she’d started crying?
Poetic, but not realistic. Did you say something like that?
“She told me about a comment you made to Catherine; that you would have given up billions to be with her.”
Scott squinted a little. “And?”
“I thought it was ridiculous,” I admitted. “You wouldn’t. I don’t know anyone who would.”
“You didn’t say that way, did you?”
Had I? “No. Something about it being…poetic and unrealistic? Do you think that’s what bothered her?”
Scott’s eyes opened wide. “Are you kidding me? Do I think that’s what— fucking, yes! Obviously, bro!”
“Why? I mean, would you really give up billions to be with my sister?” I asked.
“At one time, yes. I would have. Not now. But I would have. But when you said that? I guarantee she didn’t hear you saying that about me.” He shook his head. “How can you be so smart and so stupid at the same time?”
Fuck. “She thought I was saying that I wouldn’t give up billions for her?”
“Would you?” Scott asked.
“I—” It would be foolish, wouldn’t it? To give up everything I worked for, everything my father and my grandfather had worked for? I would hate to lose Charlotte, but the question would never even come up. How was I supposed to take that hypothetical seriously?
Scott apparently expected me to. “This should be an easy question to answer. You’ve been engaged like seven times—”
“Five times!”
“—and you never felt like you would give up the world for them?” he finished, throwing his arms up in frustration.
“No. Never.” Was that how I was supposed to have felt?
Scott went quiet. Finally, he asked, “How much money do you have?”
“Like, my family or—”
“How much money do you, Matthew Ashe, have in your checking account right now?” he demanded.
I cringed. “Are you gonna be mad if I say I don’t know?”
“Are you kidding me?” His face flushed and sweat popped out on his brow. “Then give me an estimate.”
I thought it over. “I don’t know. Thirty billion?”
“Jesus Christ.” Scott had never asked me how much I was worth. We didn’t talk about money. I just knew I had more.
“Is that a lot?” I asked, and quickly amended, “I mean, I know it’s a lot to some people—”
“It’s a fucking lot!” he shouted. Then, taking a calming breath, he said, “Okay. I’m sorry. I had a moment. Dude, do you not know how much money you have?”
I shrugged.
“Look, if you want Charlotte back—I know, you haven’t broken up, but trust me, it’s coming—if you want her back, write me a check for thirty billion dollars.”
I tilted my head. “Are you trying to sell me your sister right now?”
“No, because that would be human trafficking.” Scott scrubbed a hand over his face. “Go, find your checkbook, write me a check for thirty billion dollars.”
I had more than one bank account, some not even in the United States, but the one I could think of off the top of my head…
I had no idea where I would find the checkbook. I bought everything with cards. But I knew who would be able to find it. I went to the intercom. “Jason, can you bring me a checkbook?”
“A checkbook? You don’t even know which account—” Scott stopped himself again. “It doesn’t matter. But this? This is why you’re not ever going to be ‘normal,’ friend. No matter how many baseball caps you buy, no matter how often you complain about the fancy house you grew up in, you’re never going to be able to understand the world ninety-nine percent of everyone else lives in. And it is infuriating to see you pretend otherwise.”
“Wow.” That took me down a peg. “How long have you been feeling like this?”
He stared at me like a guy who’d finished putting together a thousand-piece puzzle only to find the last piece missing. “Literally ten minutes after we met.”
“Well, why did you become friends with me, then, if you didn’t like me?”
“Because I did like you!” He made an exasperated noise. “I do like you. We have a lot in common and that’s why we’re friends. I could ignore your weird poverty cosplay. Until—”
“Until it involved your sister.”
He folded his arms over his chest and nodded resolutely.
Jason came in with the checkbook and a pen, handed it over, and left.
“Okay, thirty billion?” I leaned over the coffee table and wrote it out, hesitating only at the signature. I didn’t think my friend planned to rob me… Nah, I trusted him. I tore the check free and handed it over.
“Cool.” He took out his wallet and tucked the slip of paper inside. “Break up with my sister, or I’ll cash it.”
I laughed.
“I’m serious. Break up with my sister, or I will cash that check.”
I shook my head. “You know you can’t just walk into the bank—”
“Doesn’t matter. I’ll wait for the funds to clear. I know you’re good for it.” He put his wallet back into his pocket. “Call my sister right now, break it off, and you can void the check.”
“I could call the—”
“All you have to do is break up with my sister.” He held my stare, not a single flicker of humor there. No indication that he would back down or declare it all a prank.
He was forcing me into a decision.
He was forcing me to realize…
I loved Charlotte more than I loved a single thing I possessed.
Well, I would miss my apartment, my resorts, and my bespoke suits, but I could live without them.
“No. Enjoy the money. I can hand you the keys to this apartment, too, if you want them. But there’s no way in hell that I’m breaking up with Charlotte.”
Scott stood in front of me, waiting for me to change my answer.
He could wait forever.
I didn’t say anything. I wasn’t going to defend myself or my decision. And I certainly wouldn’t change my mind.
With a deep breath, he took the check from his pocket and unlocked his phone.
“What are you doing?” I asked. “Mobile deposit?”
The corner of his mouth quirked up, but he didn’t fully smile. “Don’t panic, I’m covering the routing and account numbers with my thumb.”
The phone made a camera clicking sound. He checked the picture, put his phone away, and ripped the check in half.
“I’m so lost right now,” I said, watching the torn paper drift to the floor.
“You better burn that,” he advised. “Writing ‘void’ or shredding it? Someone will put it back together for thirty billion.”
“What just happened?” I went to the sofa and flopped down on it.
“What just happened is that you proved that you were willing to give up billions for my sister. That should put her mind at ease when I tell her.” He tucked his wallet into his pocket.
“Shouldn’t I be the one who tells her?” I could get on a plane, show up at her house, declare my love in the rain, weather permitting.
“Nope,” Scott says firmly. “Don’t talk to her until I get a chance to. Trust me. If you want her to come back to you, take my advice and wait for her to make the next move.”
It would be difficult. It felt impossible. But Scott knew his sister better than I did, so I trusted him to fix this. “Fine. But you’re staying for lunch. We still have things we need to discuss.”
Like how the hell anyone could fall for my sister.