Chapter 22
Charlotte
As soon as my head hit the pillow, I was down for the count. I haven’t napped in forever, but apparently, my body just said enough.
My mind is as exhausted as my physical body. Dr. Thitters suggested I take up some sort of physical exercise to blow off steam and clear my thoughts—a metaphorical bleaching of my gray matter.
No matter how much bleach I use, I can’t seem to clean the sordid filth that clings to the walls of my mind. It’s more like hastily surface cleaning up before guests arrive, stuffing everything out of sight into closets and under beds. Despite these efforts, the tainted mess remains, just like the thoughts and emotions crowding my brain.
Much like when you shove those items in random locations, often, I forget about some deep, dark memory I’ve placed in a box in the back of my mind until I’m clearing things out and accidentally stumble upon it. And I deal with it like any rational adult would. I kick that fucking box until it falls under a mountain of other boxes, and I can walk away pretending I never saw it in the first place. May not be the healthiest way to deal with it, but it’s what I’m working with right now.
Last week’s family counseling session is still weighing heavily on me. It was the first time I let my dad come into the room with me to talk with Dr. T. We’ve each seen her on multiple occasions over the last two months. It still seems weird to refer to him as “dad” again. He’s been such a non-familial presence in my thoughts for so long .
I still haven’t forgiven him for everything, but I did agree to hear his version of events. I had to hand it to him. He stood in the face of my full rage and loathing and laid his truth bare before me.
I was eight when he started working with Alexis. She was a bouncy twenty-something, eager to learn all she could from such a distinguished businessman– my words, not his. He spared me a lot of the nitty-gritty details and basically said they spent a lot of time together. What started as a professional working relationship developed into a friendship and turned into a crush, and when it was reciprocated, a “one-time” mistake happened.
He had Alexis transferred to another department, but eventually, they made their way back to each other, and a long-term affair ensued.
My mom found out when she went to his office one night when he was working late. He had missed one of his favorite meals– corned beef and potatoes – I was staying at Savvy’s, so she decided, the doting wife she was, to take him his favorite meal.
She walked in and saw them in a “romantic position”. Like the true queen she was, Amelia Johnson simply placed the to-go container in front of them on his desk and left without a word. She didn’t scream, cry, or beg.
As much as it killed me to listen to him detail his betrayal, I couldn’t help but feel my chest swell with pride that my mother was such a fucking amazing woman. He didn’t deserve her. My only two regrets for her are that she dealt with that all alone and that she never found her own happiness.
Dr. T brought up a valid point that got me thinking. My mom forgave my dad. She was the one who was wronged, and she forgave him. They had a great friendship and co-parenting relationship. That wasn’t faked. It couldn’t have been. So if she saw something redeemable in him, maybe I should give him a second chance.
I’m just having a hard time not feeling like a traitor for wanting to forgive him, but Savvy was right. At my mom’s funeral, she reminded me that he’s all I have left.
I made no promises about our future relationship but agreed to try. If I learned anything from Mom’s death and my dip in the River Styx, it was that life is fleeting .
I’m not angry at my dad for finding a love that wasn’t my mom. I’m well aware that you can love more than one person in your lifetime, and I fully believe you can have more than one soul tie. I’m pissed at the sneaking and hiding. Divorce was invented for a reason.
He and Tuscaloosa Barbie have decided to postpone their wedding indefinitely. I should probably care about that and want only his happiness but also fuck her. I don’t forgive her. She knew he was married and pursued him anyway. She made my mom feel like shit in her last days, and I don’t know if I can ever forgive her for that.
I roll over on my back and stare at the ceiling, a small smile lifting my lips at the “W” and the pot with the handle stretched along the surface in glow-in-the-dark stars.
The big dipper for me—obviously—and Cassiopeia for Savs. When we learned about constellations in fifth grade, and Savvy heard about the queen with unrivaled beauty, she came home and begged Mary to buy a set of stick-on stars.
Since then, whenever we want, we have been invited to a nightly private showing of celestial splendor, regardless of the sky’s temperament.
I think I’ve finally convinced her to keep her ass in Florida. She has threatened several times to come back home to be with me. Well, more like to babysit me. I let many people down with my selfish actions, and I think Savvy was probably the person who was hurt the most. Not that she was judging me for what happened, but that I didn’t feel I could talk to her about what was happening.
Sure, she saw the bruises, and I came home high too many times to dismiss, but I hid the worst of it from her. I made excuses. I outright lied. To my best fucking friend. She has every right to be hurt about it and make me earn back her trust.
I have no desire to be in that position again. The pull of the drugs is strong sometimes. Occasionally, something happens to trigger the craving for numbness, and I have to work through it. “Pull out one of the tools in my toolbox,” as my sponsor, Tina, would say.
I’ve been working hard on my sobriety and my mental health since I was released from Starry North. I’m finding the two often go hand in hand.
A soft knock raps on the door before it opens, just enough for Mary’s head to poke in. “Hey, sweetie, I hope I didn’t wake you. You have a visitor,” a sly smile spreads on her face, and she cocks an eyebrow up, “Should I send him in?”
Him ?
I’m about to ask the question aloud, but before I can, she quickly steps back. Several emotions hit me at once, the top being pure and utter belonging.
“There she is,” he drawls with that one-sided smile I love. He barely makes it into the room before I’m on my feet, running across the top of the bed. I leap into his open arms and wrap my legs tightly around his waist, burying my face in his neck. His hands latch right to my ass, holding my weight up.
God, I forgot how fucking good he smells. I take a long whiff, delighting in his familiar scent.
Fresh laundry.
Citrus. And… I press my nose harder against his neck. Where’s the smoke?
Like he read my mind, “I quit, darlin’. Five weeks ago.” I pull back and look at him in shock. Five weeks ago… “My birthday?” I question.
He answers with a nod, the smirk I love firmly attached to his beautiful, tan face. I slam my lips against his.
Our mouths devour each other, whispering all the love and longing between each connection of skin. It’s been so long—too long.
I thrust my tongue against his lips, too impatient to wait for him to take the lead. His deep chuckle rumbles against my core, and immediately heat floods my body. He complies and opens his mouth for me. My hands thrust into his sandy locks, holding his head right where I want him as my tongue explores his mouth like a discoverer of a new world.
Our bodies fit perfectly against one another—his large and hard, mine small and soft. This is how we should always be—slotted perfectly together as a whole. My soul’s mate, home where he belongs.
Home.
Wait.
I jerk my head back, his eyes slowly open. A drunken haze of lust coats his verdant stare. “How are you here right now?” I ask.
“Well, you see, darlin’, there are these big ol’ tin cans that hold lots of folks and shoot across the sky from one place to another. Ow!” He pouts at me, and I rub a gentle circle around the spot where I hit him.
“I know what a plane is, dick. I mean, what are you doing here? What about school?”
He presses his forehead to mine and places a gentle kiss on my lips. “I’m only here ‘til Monday. Coach is cool, and missin’ two days of classes ain’t goin’ to hurt me none. Besides, I missed my girl,” he punctuates that last bit by using his hands to grind my crotch against him. “Speakin’ of,” he gently sets me back on my feet and pats my ass, “Grab a bag and throw in whatever shit you need for the night. I’m takin’ you out, my love.”
I grin at him and do as he asks. I shove a change of clothes, a cute matching bra, and panties into a bag before heading to the bathroom. I grab my toothbrush, toothpaste, and hair tie and shove those in, too.
Walking out of the bathroom, I thrust my bag at Zach’s chest. He catches it easily with a chuckle. “Alright, Price Charming, I’m ready for my princess treatment,” I inform him with a haughty stare and wave of my hand. He catches my hand and brings it to his lips, placing a hot kiss against the top. The kiss radiates want through my veins, and a fire burns between my thighs.
“You are a fuckin’ queen, Little Bit,” he tips his eyes up to meet mine with his lips still ghosting against my hand, “And I plan to spend the next twelve hours servin’ my queen. From noon until night, when her legs can’t hold her up no more, and her voice goes missin’ from screamin’ my name.”
My mouth waters and I can’t find the right words to respond, so I nod frantically, “Yes. Yes. God, yes, please. Let’s do that.”