Chapter 17 #2
He shrugs the statement off with a grin that feels practiced, and I wonder if I’m as good at seeing through Charlie as he is at seeing through me.
But I don’t press the issue. I know firsthand how hard it is to be torn between the life you want and the career you think you should have.
And I don’t have the added complication of being heir to a grocery empire.
“Well, you can pretend for now,” I say, clinking my wine glass to his. “This would be more effective if I knew how to say ‘cheers’ in Italian,” I go on with a laugh.
Charlie smiles. “ Salute . Or you can also say, cin cin . It’s less formal.”
“Well then, cin cin ,” I repeat after him. “Wait a minute…do you speak Italian?”
He nods. “It’s a beautiful language. I studied it in college.”
I bring my palm to my forehead.
“What?” he asks with a chuckle.
“Charlie,” I say with a stone-cold serious look on my face. “You’re killing me, here.”
“Is that right?” he quips back with a playful grin.
“I saw your abs at the beach this morning,” I say with my hands on my hips. “You have, like, an eight-pack. But you love dessert.”
He laughs, the pink in his cheeks deepening. “I told you, I run.”
I shake my head. “Lots of people run. But they don’t also get to eat brownies and still look like an underwear model.”
“Okay, I might have a freakishly fast metabolism,” he admits with a sheepish shrug. “Runs on the Sutton side of the family. I know it’s unfair, so I don’t like to brag about it.”
“Fine,” I concede. “I’ll give you the fast metabolism. But you’re also devastatingly handsome, you went to an Ivy League school, you cook gourmet Moroccan meals?—”
“You have to at least taste it before you call it gourmet,” he jokes.
“You’re a talented photographer,” I continue with a laugh, “ and you speak the sexiest language on the planet?”
He’s cracking up, and it’s adorable.
“You literally couldn’t be more perfect,” I tell him.
“Well,” he says, before kissing the top of my head, “now you know how I feel about you. You’re smart, and funny, and creative?—”
I love that he listed “smart” first.
“Not to mention…” He pauses for a beat and his cheeks get rosier still. “ Sei più bella di tutte le stelle del cielo .”
“Hmm…I picked up the word pretty, but that’s about it.”
“You’re prettier than all the stars in the sky,” he tells me.
My heart swells to about ten times its size, and I have to fight the urge to cry. “That’s really sweet,” I rasp before I plant a kiss on him. “Now, let’s eat, before I swoon.”
Dinner is incredible, and easily earns the right to be called “gourmet.” We sit next to each other at his kitchen island, our knees brushing as we talk, and laugh, and flirt, and kiss between bites of perfectly spiced chicken with sweet apricots.
The meal’s so delicious, I forget to leave room for dessert, so we save the brownies for later.
Afterward, we have a second glass of wine on his couch and, because I’m feeling so calm and comfortable with him, I take the opportunity to tell Charlie about my therapy sessions. About Hunter.
I explain everything, and he listens quietly, his eyes full of compassion and even heartbreak. “I’m so sorry, Jenna,” he says with a furrowed brow before he takes my hand and kisses it.
And then, because I expect he’ll see my tattoo sometime in the near future, I tell him the story behind it. It’s something I’ve never admitted to anyone, not even Esther.
“After Hunter’s funeral, I felt guiltier than ever.
I’d convinced myself that if I hadn’t broken up with him, I’d have noticed he was sick, and he wouldn’t have died.
I saw the pain in his parents’ eyes, and I blamed myself.
So I stopped at a tattoo shop on my way home.
And I told the owner I wanted a rose, right on my hipbone. ”
A rose for every month I’ve known and loved you.
“I’d lost a lot of weight, since I was depressed and hardly eating.
And the tattoo artist told me it would hurt like hell because I was so thin.
I had to beg him to do it. He asked me to consider putting it on the softer flesh next to the bone instead, but I convinced him I had a high pain tolerance, which wasn’t true at all.
The truth is, I wanted the pain. I wanted to punish myself.
“I’ve never told anyone the meaning behind it.
But when I’m with a guy, and he tells me how sexy it is, I feel like I’m hiding something.
And I don’t want to feel that way with you.
That’s why I’m telling you the truth. I know we’re taking things slow, but when you eventually see me… I want you to see all of me.”
If I’m not mistaken, Charlie’s blinking back a tear. “Come here,” he says after a long exhale.
He pulls me into a hug, and I settle my head on his solid, supportive shoulder. “I’m sorry for dampening the mood.”
I feel him shake his head. “Are you kidding? I want to know everything about you, Jenna. It doesn’t have to be all sunshine and rainbows.”
He’s telling me that I don’t have to be bright, bubbly Jenna with him. Only if it feels genuine. And god help me, if I wasn’t already convinced that what I’m feeling is love, not lust—Charlie Sutton just sealed the deal.
But as much as I want to go all the way with him, I have to keep in mind that he told me he wanted to wait to have sex, too .
I tilt my head up to look into his eyes and thread my fingers into his hair, bringing his mouth to mine. After a sweet kiss, I pull back. “I’m going to go now. Even though I really want to stay.”
He nods and presses another kiss to the top of my head. “Let me walk you home.”
I giggle. “You sure you’re up for it?”
He just gazes at me and smiles.
A few minutes later, after he walks me to my door and gives me another chaste kiss, I’m home, on my bed, flipping through my high school journal—which I haven’t cracked open in a while. Not since before I met my boyfriend. I guess I’ve been distracted.
But now that I have met him…I see my drawings through different eyes.
And my heart stops the moment I realize what I’m looking at.
The sketches are of me and Charlie.
I mean, they’re doodles—but the man I drew has the same, gorgeous, dark eyes as Charlie, the same impossibly long lashes, and the same slight curl in his hair. He’s tall and muscular like Charlie. He even has his rosy cheeks.
In the first drawing, we’re crashing into each other—just like our meet-cute by the elevator. I even drew the sparks between us as jagged lightning bolts.
In another sketch, we’re walking on the beach with iced coffee. Check.
Admiring paintings at an art museum? You better believe it.
Now, we’re eating pancakes at an outdoor restaurant. Been there, done that .
He’s making me dinner. That tracks.
And here’s the one in Rome that I remember so clearly. This wish hasn’t come true yet…but is it only a matter of time?
Maybe it’s a coincidence. I mean, these are all fairly typical things to do on a date. Right?
Or maybe it’s fate.
Honestly, I don’t care.
Charlie Sutton is the man of my dreams, and I don’t want to waste another second taking things slow with him.
But—dammit. What if he still wants to wait?
Oh, to hell with it. I’m going over there. If he isn’t ready to take our relationship to the next level, he’ll let me know.
With tears in my eyes and a smile on my face, I slam the journal shut and leave my apartment again.
I knock on Charlie’s door.