Chapter 29 #2
She circles her arms around me. “You’ll find the one you’re meant to be with. And so will I. We’ll go on double dates, and celebrate our engagements, and be in each other’s weddings. It’ll be a new chapter for both of us, and it’s going to be the best one yet.”
“Yes, it is,” I say with a heavy, but hopeful, heart. It’s a relief to be able to feel both of those things at once.
For so long, I wouldn’t let myself wish anymore. I wouldn’t let myself believe in happy endings. But now I do. Even if this isn’t my happy ending, I can hold out hope that mine is still coming.
And that means I’ve come a long way.
“I’m going to hit up the ladies’ room before we leave,” I tell Christy.
“I’ll wait for you outside,” she says.
I walk to the far side of the gallery, then down a long hallway to find the restroom. I don’t really have to use it, so much as I wanted a moment to myself before going home for the night. There’s so much on my mind. My excitement over the success of the show. My disappointment over Charlie.
I stand in front of the mirror, and I let myself feel sad.
I let my eyes tear up. I let my heart ache.
I let myself unravel a little bit, knowing I’ll be okay.
I remind myself, again, that I have art, and Esther, and my sister, and Vanessa and Sam.
And maybe even my mom, eventually. And every time a wave of grief washes over me from the loss of Charlie, I’ll remember how much I’ve gained.
I take one deep breath before I head back to my sister, then open the door to the hallway.
But as soon as I turn right, someone crashes into me.
“Oh my gosh, I’m sorry!”
It’s an automatic reaction to the impact. But even as the words are coming out of my mouth—even before I step back so my eyes can meet his—I know in my soul, it’s Charlie.
It’s not the first time we’ve crashed into each other, after all.
This time he isn’t gazing at me with stunned surprise, though. He looks exhausted. And disheveled. His hair is mussed up like I’ve never seen it before. He’s in the sweatpants he sleeps in, and his t-shirt has a hole in it. I’m pretty sure there’s a smudge of dirt on his cheek.
“I saw your sister standing outside—I recognized her from the portrait you painted,” he says, breathlessly. “She just left. She said she had your spare keys and wanted to give us time to talk. I put her in a cab, I hope that’s okay.”
“Of course it is…thank you.” I want to reach out for him, but he looks so serious. “Charlie, what’s wrong?”
He drags a hand over his face. “Jenna, I just had the worst two weeks of my life.” He pauses for several seconds, maybe trying to figure out where to begin. Whatever happened, I’m guessing it’s a long story.
“See…when I left for Denver,” he finally goes on, “I had a plan. I was going to interview candidates to replace me at Sutton’s.
I was going to find additional support staff, and when I quit my job, I was going to hand my dad a stack of resumes and tell him not to worry, because I took care of everything.
And then I was going to fly back to Chicago and surprise you here tonight with a grand, romantic gesture.
I was going to be here when you walked into the gallery, not looking like I got run over by a truck—which nearly happened by the way?—”
I gasp.
“And everything was going to be perfect .” He laughs, but his smile is more ironic than amused. “But the universe had other plans. And you know why?”
I shake my head.
“Because I learned nothing from our argument, that’s why.
You said you didn’t need me to be perfect, and my first thought was that I needed to come up with the perfect exit plan to please my dad, and the perfect grand gesture to convince you I’m worthy of you.
And I did. I had it all figured out—but then everything went to hell. ”
He pauses to catch his breath.
“The candidate I liked best to replace me ended up accepting an offer somewhere else an hour before I was going to give my dad her resume. I’d come so close to pulling off the perfect escape from Sutton’s…and when my plan fell apart, I was beside myself.”
My hopes are dashed. I think I see where this is going. There’s no way Charlie would leave his dad in the lurch.
“I cried, Jenna,” he admits. “That’s when I realized how miserable I’d been, and I knew I had to quit. So, that’s what I did.”
“Wait—really?” I ask, unable to believe my ears.
He nods, but his expression is still somber. “Since I didn’t have a vetted replacement to offer my dad, I told him I’d stay on a few more months to help find the right candidate and assist with the transition. As long as it didn’t interfere with my job offer in Italy this summer.”
“Oh my gosh,” I say, my heart fluttering with excitement. “You’re going?”
When he nods, a smile forms on my lips, but Charlie doesn’t notice because his eyes are squeezed shut. He pinches the bridge of his nose before telling me the rest of his story.
“My dad was livid that I was quitting—especially to pursue photography. And he went off on me. Normally I’d just sit there and take it…
but I was so fucking tired. I hadn’t slept the entire time I was in Denver, because I was doing the work of three people, while also conducting interviews—and missing the hell out of you, if I’m being honest. So I just broke.
I gave my father a piece of my mind and, let me tell you, it was a long time coming. ”
He heaves a sigh and looks at me.
“Will you and your dad be okay? Or…do you even want to be?”
Charlie shrugs. “To tell you the truth…I think my father respects me more now than he ever did. He’s still not my biggest fan at the moment. That’s okay, though. I guess this is what it took for me to realize I’d rather have his respect than his approval.”
My eyes fill with tears, I’m so happy for him. But he’s on a roll, and I can’t get a word in before he continues.
“But while I was arguing with my dad, I lost track of time, and I missed my flight to Chicago. And the only other flight that would get me here on time was booked. So I rented a car.”
“You drove here from Denver?” I ask, incredulous. “How many hours is that?”
“Fourteen. Which would have been fine, if there hadn’t been a torrential downpour in Denver that slowed traffic to a screeching halt. Then, I got a flat tire in the middle of Nebraska?—”
My eyes go wide. “Oh no…”
“Yeah, it wasn’t ideal. I’d only changed a tire once before in my life.
But I had my phone and access to YouTube, so that helped.
I hit a few snags, and even ripped my shirt, but eventually I did it.
And I was just about to get in my car when I saw a semi coming at me at full speed.
I moved out of the way as fast as I could, and I must have dropped my phone, because the next thing I knew, it was smashed to pieces right where the truck had driven over it. ”
“Oh, Charlie,” I sigh. I feel so awful for him, I want to throw my arms around his neck and kiss him all over his dirt-smudged face.
“I’m so sorry I missed the show, Jenna. But at least the night’s not a total wash,” he says, his expression softening. “I still have a surprise for you—if you want it.”
My eyes light up. “Of course I want it.”
Charlie smiles for the first time tonight, then reaches for my hand.
We walk down the hall together, back to the artwork on display.
The gallery’s mostly empty now, except for a few stragglers and the staff members, who are busy chatting with patrons as they leave.
It’s the perfect setting for a romantic surprise.
The dim lights, the flowers and candles, the music playing over the speakers.
Charlie stops when we get to the center of the room. “Stay right there,” he says, his eyes glimmering.
I watch as he continues toward the wall opposite my painting. To the odd modern art piece I noticed before. The canvas covered in bubble wrap.
It’s Charlie’s surprise for me.
I shake my head, laughing at myself. I can’t believe I thought it was modern art .
Charlie tugs at the wrapping to unveil what’s underneath, and I bite my lip in anticipation.
But nothing happens. The bubble wrap won’t budge.
“Wow. They did a pretty thorough job covering this up,” he tells me. “I’d asked them to use a sheet—the way you’d hidden the portrait of me in your studio—but I guess they didn’t have one.”
Charlie tries again, with more force this time. He’s unsuccessful.
“So much for a dramatic reveal,” he jokes.
“Let me help you with that.” Odette—Tati Marie’s friend, and the owner of the gallery—rushes over with a pair of scissors and begins cutting into the plastic covering. “Marie told me you wanted it hidden under a sheet, but this was the best I could come up with.”
My heart swells over the fact that Vanessa’s aunt helped Charlie set up my surprise.
“I appreciate you letting me add a piece to the show,” my boyfriend tells Odette. “And I’m so sorry I was late. Thank you for keeping this wrapped until I got here.”
“It’s no problem at all,” she says. “Most people thought it was a commentary on pop culture. I even got some offers on it, which I was sorry to turn down.”
I stifle a laugh, feeling vindicated.
A minute later, Odette is still cutting off strips of bubble wrap with a very determined look on her face. Charlie offers to help, but she promises she’s nearly got it.
He chuckles in my direction. “This surprise isn’t quite going as planned.”
I giggle. “Seems pretty on brand for you today. ”
“I shouldn’t have used so much tape,” Odette reflects, still hard at work. “I’m sorry, Charlie—the sheet would have made your surprise much more dramatic.”
“It’s fine,” he says, smiling at me.
My heart swells. I’m thrilled he’s taking this all in stride.
“There we go,” Odette says with a satisfied sigh.
The plastic covering drops to the floor slowly, and rather anticlimactically. When I look up, Odette’s still standing in front of the piece, so I have no clue what it is yet.
“Thanks again,” Charlie tells her.
And when she turns to walk away?—
I’m looking at myself.
It’s one of the pictures Charlie took of me at Olive Park, during our mini photoshoot. He showed me some of the photographs afterward, but never this one.
It’s cropped the same way I paint my portraits—with the focus on my eyes. And the way I’m looking at him…
“It’s the exact same way I’m looking at you,” he says, nodding toward his portrait, behind me. I look back and forth between my painting and his photograph, both smack dab in the center of opposite walls. Jenna and Charlie, gazing into each other’s eyes from across the room—lovestruck.
My lip quivers. “This is the most romantic thing anyone’s ever done for me.”
“Jenna, this is our love story. You’re the woman of my dreams. And I’m the man of your…doodles.”
I giggle and wipe a tear from my cheek.
“And I would love for you to come to Italy with me this summer,” he says. “So we can make all your drawings come true.”
My hand flies to my heart.
“I would love that, too,” I say, right before I start sobbing.
Charlie walks to meet me in the center of the room. But as soon as he takes me in his arms, the fluorescent overhead lights turn on.
“So much for mood lighting,” Charlie says, squinting as his eyes struggle to adjust.
“Sorry, kiddos!” Odette yells from the front of the gallery, over the bossa nova still playing in the background. “You’re welcome to stay, but we need the overheads on to clean up.”
“We’ll be out of your hair in a minute,” Charlie says with a grin, then turns back to me.
I heave a sigh, smiling ear-to-ear. All I can think about is how much I want to kiss him, and run my hands through that adorably mussed-up hair.
“I’ll try to make this quick, while we still have mood music,” he goes on with a chuckle.
“Jenna, when I realized I was going to miss your show, my instinct was to beat myself up for disappointing you. And that’s what I did—for hours, driving through Nebraska.
Even after I’d just stood up to my father.
You know what they say about old habits… ”
He purses his lips.
“But somewhere just outside of Omaha, I forgave myself. And that’s progress.
Because normally I’d ruminate over something like this until I had the chance to fix it.
The need to please is so ingrained in me, Jenna—I can tell you right now, I’m not going to change overnight.
But I’m working on it. Two weeks ago, I never would have shown up here looking this way. ”
He glances down at the hole in his shirt and pulls at it.
“ This is me trying,” he goes on. “This is my grand gesture. It’s not what I originally planned. And it’s not perfect. But it’s me.”
If this were a romantic comedy, the music would swell, and the camera would orbit around me and Charlie Sutton as we locked lips, undisturbed, until the credits rolled.
Instead, the bossa nova cuts out, and someone starts vacuuming up front.
But that doesn’t stop me from kissing him.
And afterward, when his loving gaze meets mine, I say, “It’s better than perfect, Charlie. It’s all I ever wished for.”