Chapter 14 Charlotte
FOURTEEN
CHARLOTTE
I push open the glass door of Piney Creek Diner and the scent of coffee and fried food hits me. The lunch crowd buzzes with conversation as servers weave between checkered tablecloths with steaming plates.
I scan the room, my stomach fluttering with a mix of anticipation and a slight queasiness I try to ignore. Then I see him. My dad waves from a corner booth, his face lighting up with that smile reserved just for me.
“There’s my girl,” Dad calls out as I make my way toward him.
I plaster on my brightest smile, pushing down the guilt that threatens to choke me. “Hey, Dad.”
He stands to hug me, his strong arms wrapping around me like they have a thousand times before. He smells like the same brand of aftershave that he’s worn since I was little. I breathe through my mouth, trying to calm the weird flip-flop in my stomach.
“You look great, kiddo.” Dad releases me and slides back into his side of the booth. “Tired, maybe, but great.”
I settle into the vinyl seat across from him, suddenly aware of how accurate his assessment is. Between the long hours at beauty school, and now secretly moving in with Koda, exhaustion has become my default state.
“Beauty school is kicking my butt.” I pick up the menu even though I’ve memorized it over years of father-daughter lunches. “Finals are coming up.”
Dad beams with pride. “You’re going to ace them. You’ve got your mother’s talent.”
The waitress appears with waters, saving me from responding. My mouth feels suddenly dry, so I take a long sip. The cold liquid hits my empty stomach with a jolt that makes me wince.
“You okay?” Dad’s eyes narrow with concern.
I nod quickly. “Just hungry, I think.”
Dad orders his usual burger with extra pickles and I decide to play it safe with soup and a salad. As the waitress walks away, Dad leans forward, elbows on the table.
“So tell me everything. How are classes? How’s Sarah and the apartment?”
The questions hit me rapid-fire, each one striking closer to the lie I’m living. I focus on the easiest one first.
“Classes are good. I’m specializing in color techniques this semester.” I fiddle with my silverware, arranging it perfectly parallel on the napkin. “Sarah’s good too. She got that internship at Blissful Salon for the summer.”
Dad nods, genuinely interested in the details of my life. “That’s great. She always seemed like a go-getter.”
“She is.” I sip more water, stalling. “The apartment is... you know. Small but functional.”
Not exactly a lie. The apartment is small. I just don’t mention that I no longer live there.
Dad reaches across the table and covers my hand with his. “I’m proud of you, Charlotte. So proud. After your mom died, I was afraid we’d drift apart. I was such a mess, and you were just a kid trying to deal with your own grief.”
My chest tightens painfully. “Dad...”
“No, let me say this.” He squeezes my hand. “I’m so glad that didn’t happen. That we stayed close. That you still tell me everything.”
The irony of his words feels like a physical blow. I don’t tell him everything. I don’t tell him about waking up in Koda’s arms, about the way his best friend looks at me when we’re alone, about the fact that my clothes now hang beside Koda’s in a cabin my father has visited countless times.
“I love you, Dad.” At least that much is completely true.
Our food arrives, and I stare down at my soup with growing unease. The broth looks too oily, the vegetables too bright. I take a small spoonful, feeling it slide down my throat. My stomach churns in protest.
“So,” Dad says after a long pause. “There’s actually something I wanted to talk to you about.”
Here it comes. My heart hammers against my ribs. Somehow, he knows. Someone saw us. He found out.
“I’ve been seeing someone.”
The words don’t register at first. “What?”
Dad wipes his mouth with his napkin, suddenly looking nervous. “A woman. I’ve been dating a woman. For about two months now.”
Relief washes over me so powerfully I almost laugh. This is why he wanted lunch? To tell me he’s dating?
“Her name is Rebecca,” he continues, watching me carefully. “She’s a high school counselor in Cheyenne. We met at a fundraiser for the school two months ago.”
I find my voice. “Dad, that’s great.”
“Yeah?” His face brightens instantly. “You think so?”
“Of course.” And I mean it. “Tell me about her.”
He does, words tumbling out like he’s been holding them back for ages.
Rebecca loves hiking and bakes the best apple pie he’s ever tasted.
She has a Golden Retriever named Max and a collection of vintage lunch boxes.
She reads mystery novels and does the crossword in pen.
His eyes light up when he talks about her, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth that I haven’t seen since before Mom got sick.
“I’d like you to meet her,” he says finally. “If you’re comfortable with that.”
I reach across the table to squeeze his hand. “I’d love to meet her, Dad.”
The relief on his face is palpable. “Really? I wasn’t sure how you’d react. It’s been just us for so long, and with your mom...”
“Mom would want you to be happy.” The truth of this statement rings clearly through all the other complicated emotions swirling inside me. “And so do I.”
Dad’s eyes shine suspiciously. “I decided to tell you because I hate keeping secrets from you. We’ve always been honest with each other.”
The irony of his statement makes my stomach clench, and I take a quick sip of water, willing the sudden wave of nausea to pass.
“You’re looking a little pale, sweetheart.” Dad frowns. “Are you sure you’re feeling okay?”
“Just tired.” I force myself to take a bite of my salad, though it tastes like cardboard in my mouth.
He nods sympathetically. “You’re working too hard. Maybe cut back on those weekend shifts at The Summit?”
If only he knew I’d already quit working at The Summit weeks ago. Another lie in the growing pile between us.
“Maybe,” I mutter, pushing my plate away.
We finish lunch with Dad telling me more about Rebecca, about their plans to go camping next weekend, about how nervous he is to introduce her to his friends.
I try to focus, to respond appropriately, but the diner feels increasingly warm and stuffy.
The smell of fried onions from the next table makes my stomach roll dangerously. As lunch winds down, Dad pays the bill despite my protests. Then we walk outside together, the sunshine momentarily blinding after the diner’s dim interior.
“I’ve got to get back on the road.” Dad checks his watch. “Supplier meeting in Jackson this afternoon.”
“Drive safe.” I step into his open arms for a goodbye hug.
He holds me tight, his embrace full of unconditional love. “Love you, kiddo. Call me more often, okay? I miss hearing your voice.”
Guilt crashes over me in a wave. “I will. Promise.”
Dad kisses the top of my head, then walks to his truck. I wave as he pulls away, maintaining my smile until he’s out of sight. Then I turn and rush back into the diner, making a beeline for the restrooms.
I barely make it into a stall before my lunch makes a violent reappearance. I grip the cold porcelain, my body heaving until there’s nothing left but bitter bile. When it finally stops, I slump against the stall door and wipe my mouth with toilet paper.
What is wrong with me?
I lean against the cold tile wall of the bathroom stall, my legs shaking beneath me.
The bitter taste of bile lingers in my mouth despite my attempts to rinse it away.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, cutting through the quiet of the empty bathroom.
I pull it out with trembling fingers to see Sarah’s name on the screen:
pages. July? August?
“Charlotte? You still there?”
“I’m at least four weeks late,” I whisper, the realization crawling over me like insects. “Maybe more.”
“Holy shit.” Sarah’s voice drops to match mine. “Are you serious right now? How did you not notice?”
My free hand grips the toilet paper dispenser, needing something solid to hold onto. “I’ve been so busy with school and work and Koda. My periods have never been super regular anyway, and with all the stress—”
“Okay, stop.” Sarah cuts me off. “Are you still at the diner?”
“Yeah.”
“Go to Thompson’s Pharmacy. Right now. Get a test. Two tests, actually. Different brands.”
My heart pounds against my ribs like it’s trying to escape. “Sarah, I can’t be pregnant. We’ve been careful.”
“Careful how?” Her voice is gentle but firm. “Condoms?”
“Not exactly,” I admit. “But I got the birth control shot.”
“Those shots only last about twelve weeks. You’re probably due for another one.”
My throat closes up, making it hard to breathe.
“Get the test,” Sarah says, her voice softening. “It might be nothing. Stress can mess with your cycle, too. Call me after. I love you.”
“Love you too.”
I walk to my car on autopilot, barely registering the spring sunshine or the people passing by. Pregnant with Koda’s baby. The thought simultaneously terrifies and thrills me in ways I can’t begin to process.
I start the engine and pull away from the diner, heading toward the pharmacy on the edge of town. Not the one in the center where everyone knows me. I need anonymity for this.
My knuckles turn white on the steering wheel as I drive.
Koda and I never discussed children. We’ve been so focused on the immediate challenges—hiding our relationship, figuring out how to tell Dad, building our life together.
A baby would change everything. My education, my career plans, Koda’s carefully ordered life.
The nursery room flashes in my mind—the room he’d prepared three years ago for a child that wasn’t his. A room he’d kept locked until I came into his life. What would he think about a real baby? His baby?