42. Always an Exception
42
ALWAYS AN EXCEPTION
DAISY
Right beside me, seated in the back seat of his car, Charles keeps patting the pocket of his sweats as if to ensure the flash drive that holds multiple images of our baby is safe.
Yes, that’s right, in his sweatpants!
My order-obsessed husband who would not leave his house if his socks didn’t match his tie and shirt is right now dressed in black sweats and a matching T-shirt that stretches over his chest. It would have been a social media story in itself if he hadn’t threatened everyone.
“Are you really going to take their jobs?” I ask, catching Charles once again checking his pocket.
His gaze drops from my face to my hands resting on my belly, and he lets out a shaky breath. “I can’t let this go so easily, Daisy. Especially now, when there’s so much at stake.”
“But you know this will happen again. Maybe not tomorrow, but these people consider keeping up with your personal life their job.”
An icy grip of terror squeezes my heart as I remember the moment when, all of a sudden, I was surrounded by the sea of loud questions and flashing camera lights. I thought I’d never escape. But then, once again, Charles was there for me. And he’s still here.
“My main job is to protect my wife and my kid. So they can try all they want.”
My breath hitches as his lips press into a thin line, trembling as if in effort to contain the bulk of his emotions.
Like he can physically see the emotions swirling inside me, Charles leans forward. “ Come home , Daisy, where I can keep you both safe.”
My eyes close, more because he’s making it so hard to deny him. But his place was never my home . It was a temporary stay, a fact I was foolish enough to forget.
“I can’t do this, Charles. Leaving your home once was difficult enough, so walking out again would be so, so hard.” Tears burn the backs of my eyes, threatening to spill over any second.
“Who said you ever have to leave? Come back to our home to stay forever. You, me, and our blip.”
My eyes open, those tears finally skating down my cheeks, but this time they’re made of unexpected hope and not despair.
“It’s the first time we’ve spoken about the baby,” I whisper.
“That’s not true. We talk about our blip every day, don’t we?” The smile that pulls on his lips goes straight to my heart. And then his eyes descend from my face to my belly, covered behind a billowy dress that shows only a little bit, but I guess it’s enough to bring all his emotions home.
“I wasn’t sure you were aware that I knew about Dave’s phone,” I whisper.
Yes, we’ve talked in the last few weeks, but there’s a difference in watching different emotions take over his entire face one second after another than just imagining how he’s reacting to my voice.
“Your breath hitched when you opened the bag the first evening. I knew you’d seen the unicorn napkins. I’m aware of Mrs. K’s food presentation skills, butterfly. I’m not that dense. And I also saw how she made sure all the food that went to you looked simple and plain, leaving no doubt in your mind that she wasn’t the one who’d prepared it. I knew you’d connect the dots, and then your voice changed to that tone it only ever takes with me. I fucking loved every second of it, knowing your every word was for me.” His hand covers mine, effectively making contact with our blip through the fabric of my dress.
Charles gulps before bringing those beautiful blue eyes from my belly to my face. “May I?”
I slowly nod, and after a few heart-attack-inducing seconds, his palm flattens and he once again continues in a soft voice.
“But now I worry our blip will start to associate Dave’s voice as his dad’s. And if that happens, Dave will have to leave, not just the town but the damn country.”
Oh my God!
Did he really just say our blip and his dad?
“I’d hate to let go of a such a good bodyguard, Daisy.”
I can’t help that my lips curl upward. “Our blip is very lucky to have so many people who care about him. But most of all, to have you as his dad, Charles.” I twine my fingers with his, still splayed over my belly. “But you don’t have to change yourself for this. You can be in Blip’s life as much as you want, even without us getting back together. Me and Blip are not a package deal.”
“That’s what you don’t understand. You are important not because of Blip but because you are you, my dear wife.”
Hearing those three words tightens my throat. “Those are the words of a man who wants to do everything right, Charles. But soon you’ll itch to have that quiet normalcy in your life.”
My words halt when the car comes to a stop, and I look out the window, scanning the all-too-familiar parking space. “Why are we at the office?”
“Because I had a feeling our conversation would go this way. Come with me. I have to show you something.” He steps out as Dave opens his door, while I remain seated.
“Charles, I’m not signing any new papers.”
Damn, if he came up with a new proposition or contract to keep us tied to him…
“Good, because I’m not asking you to.” Charles throws me a grin and steps into the elevator, waiting for me.
And a few beats later, I’m standing next to him as the elevator doors close. How can I not?
I, too, want all that Charles is offering, but I also don’t want him to do so out of fear.
And that’s how, with a hope-filled heart, I ride the elevator with him.
The temp assistant rises from his seat, a flash of surprise in his gaze. I’m sure it’s because of Charles’ uncharacteristic attire. I give him a small wave while my husband’s hands are safely tucked inside his pockets until we enter his office.
His first task is to unlock the top drawer of his desk, the only part in this office, and possibly in his life, that has been off-limits to me. My feet won’t take me inside as I watch Charles safely retrieving the flash drive from his pocket and placing it in there. To my surprise, he doesn’t shut the drawer, but with a forced tug, pulls it out completely.
“Can you come here?” There’s an unusual trepidation in his face, which makes me nervous but also curious.
I take a few steps, looking down, not knowing that I’ll never be able to unsee this ever again.
“W-what is all this, Charles?” My heart skips a beat before racing wildly.
Why? Because my boss, my husband, has a drawer full of things that I purchased to annoy the crap out of him? But that’s not it. The wooden drawer is filled up to the top with colorful Post-its with my handwriting .
I grab one of the notes and realize it’s about a project we did almost three years ago.
“These are the to-do notes I stick on the wall.” If my shock could convert into a physical being, it would consume the whole room.
“Every single one of them from the last four years,” he confirms.
“But I—”
“You remove the old ones every morning and throw them into the trash can.” Charles’ grin is still in place as he points toward the tiny plastic bin that magically appeared in his office four years ago exclusively for my paper waste.
“And you’re saving them like some sort of homage to me?” A shock-laced tingling sensation spreads from my core to my fingertips.
What does this even fucking mean?
“Among other things,” Charles replies casually—a bit too casually—once again dropping his gaze to the open drawer, and I catch sight of the coffee mugs I’ve given him on various holidays, each one with a crazy drawing and a crazier phrase.
I pick up the one that was the start of this tradition.
Not today, Satan! I mean, yes, boss…
There’s a bat-like figure complete with wings and a tail dressed in a suit, breathing fire.
“So what does this mean? Did you have a crush on me, Charles?” I ask carefully.
All these years?
While my hands fly to my chest, Charles’ cheeks turn red.
Oh my freaking God!
I know cute is the last word one would use for Charles, but dear Lord, he has never looked cuter than right now.
And before I can roast him further, because it’s been so long that I’ve talked to him like this, said whatever is on my mind, Charles takes a step in my direction.
“I don’t know why I started storing them. Maybe because I thought someday you’d need a reminder of how hard you’ve worked. Or maybe it was just impossible to throw away something created by you, even if it was just a Post-it.” He’s right before me now. “What I’m saying is, you’ve always been an exception. The one anomaly, the one burst of color I’ve always wanted, always craved, in my otherwise perfect, orderly, and bland life.”
He holds my face between his hands, and I look up at him like a girl with stars in her eyes.
“I have something more powerful than just a crush on you, my dear wife. If you’re not convinced even now, give me a chance and I’ll prove to you that you and Blip are all I need. Not just for a few months, but for my entire lifetime.”
As much as I want to jump up and down and grab everything I’ve dreamed of—real love, a real family—there’s something between Charles and me that’s still keeping it from being real.
“But what about the contract? There’s something legal on paper that says this marriage isn’t real.”
Charles grabs the back of his neck before I hear him mutter under his breath. “This can be the biggest romantic moment, or she might hurl the glass paperweight at you, Hawthorne.”
“What did you just say?”
“What if it isn’t?” he asks in return.
“What isn’t what?”
The way Charles avoids my gaze makes me nervous. This man makes others uncomfortable. He is always perfectly composed.
“What if the marriage contract was never notarized? What if the only legal document binding us together is our marriage license?” he finally says.
“But…”
What is he saying? That my marriage was a real one, after all?
“It wasn’t how I’d planned, Daisy. I swear. After the marriage ceremony, the contract papers were supposed to go to my lawyer. But then you came to my home, and I liked you in my space, in my bed, more than I thought I would. I’m not saying I did the right thing, but even though we were imperfect on paper, it felt like I’d found my perfect match. And it seemed you felt the same.”
“This is so…” My brain struggles to find the right words.
“Romantic?” Charles supplies with a hesitant smile.
“Not the first thought in my mind, Mr. Hawthorne.” I cross my arms over my chest. “You could have at least told me.”
“I tried. Not once, but many times. And later, I started to worry that you might not see it the way I did.”
My brain wants to be upset with him, at least for a short while, for keeping me in the dark and for making me constantly worry about that word— contract —but my heart is too busy interpreting what this really freaking means.
“So what was your plan? Keep this from me forever?”
“Not forever.” Charles places his hands in his pockets, and that act pushes his broad chest forward. Before I can get distracted by that, his slow smile captures my attention. “I was thinking I’d give the contract papers to you on our fiftieth anniversary and we could make paper lanterns with our kids and grandkids.”
Kids? Grandkids?
Am I in a weird, crazy dream?
“Fifty years! You would wait fifty years?”
“I’d take secrets to my deathbed if it means keeping you in my life, Daisy.”
Charles’ lips hover over mine, as if silently asking if we’re good, not just for now, but really, for forever.
“Are you sure? Because my dream is a big, happy family, Charles.” My voice shakes, but his lips curl into a heart-stopping smile
“I can’t wait to give Blip a brother or a sister in a few years.”
“You’re killing me, Hawthorne.” I rise on my toes, pressing my lips to his. I clutch the front of his T-shirt, only to drop it the next second as I take a step back.
“Holy crap! Blip kicked! Blip freaking kicked for the first time, Charles!”
And then, it happens again.
I bring Charles’ hand under mine, flattening it against my stomach, and a second later I feel a tremor pass through him.
“That’s…a solid kick.” He’s in awe.
“Talk about picking favorites, Blip. You don’t let me eat until your daddy is doing the cooking, and now this.” My gaze swings to Charles. “I’ve been asking Blip every day to give me a reaction, but no, nada. You were worried you might not love your kid, but I don’t think our blip will stop until she has all your love, Charles.”
“She?” He still hasn’t come out of the shock.
“Chloe can be very convincing.” I bite my lip as Charles shakes his head.
“I would love my bratty sister to be right once again.”