chapter 1 #2
to her; apparently, they’d decided they’d rather remain friends with him. She didn’t even know if she’d have the emotional
wherewithal to finish the second book on her contract, so her career might go the same way as her marriage. The manuscript
was due in just three short months, and because she’d been so intimidated by the success of her first book, so scared she
wouldn’t be able to top it, she’d started five different stories only to abandon them all.
Now the fear was worse than ever—overwhelming, paralyzing, suffocating.
The fact that Cliff was responsible for so much of the word of mouth she’d received when Playing for Keeps was released made her feel like an imposter, as if she hadn’t deserved what she’d received in the first place, and her second
book would reveal just how inept a writer she really was.
She pulled the blankets over her head to block out the light. Her mother had come in an hour or so earlier and put up the
shades. Penny was making lunch—or dinner; Charlotte couldn’t keep track. She just knew that her mother wanted her to come
down to eat.
But she had no desire for food. She’d been in bed since she came home and still couldn’t summon the strength to get up. Everything
she’d built since she’d left this room eleven years ago had been leveled—or soon would be.
She heard someone at the door but didn’t pull the blankets down so she could see who it was. Her father, a hedge fund manager,
didn’t usually get home until six, and it was somewhere in the middle of the afternoon, somewhere in the middle of the week,
so she was fairly certain he was still gone. It had to be her mother, who’d been a tennis instructor at the local club before
her health had started to deteriorate. The longer Charlotte stayed in bed, the more Penny began to hover. She said encouraging
things, offered to take Charlotte shopping or to lunch. She’d even mentioned getting her a good therapist. Her family was
wealthy, so they could afford that kind of help. But right now, even those baby steps seemed too daunting.
“You’re not coming?” her mother said.
“I’m not hungry,” she replied.
The bed dipped as Penny sat beside her and tugged the covers down. “That can’t be true,” she said as she smoothed the hair
out of Charlotte’s face. “You’ve hardly eaten for days.”
“I’d rather sleep.”
Her mother’s eyebrows shot up. “That’s all you’ve been doing!”
“I must be catching up,” she muttered.
Penny’s cool, gentle hand cupped her face. “What about your book, honey?”
Just the mention of her book caused fear to burn like acid in Charlotte’s stomach. “What about it?”
“Isn’t it due soon? Don’t you need to write?”
“I’ve got time,” she lied.
Her mother studied her with concern. “I’m so worried about you.”
Charlotte curved her lips into as close an approximation of a smile as she could manage. “I’ll be okay.”
“I can’t believe Clifford would do this to you,” she responded. “You . . . you haven’t heard from him, have you?”
The first few days after she’d moved back in with her parents, Charlotte had checked her phone religiously. She couldn’t help
hoping Cliff would change his mind, feel some regret. She hadn’t done anything wrong; she’d been a loving, devoted wife. Surely, he’d realize he was tossing away someone
who was important to him, someone he missed and needed in his life.
But no . . . She winced as she remembered how torturous it’d become as the days passed and she received no calls from him—no
messages, either. The Lakers had managed to beat the Knicks, and he’d scored over thirty points. She’d been hoping he’d do
well because that usually made him eager to celebrate with her. But he still didn’t call.
Then she’d made the mistake of googling his name to see what was going on in his life—or what the press was reporting about
it, anyway—and came across a headline that’d nearly made her throw up: “Clifford Jackson Seen in Vegas with Model Marija Vidmar.”
There’d been a picture to corroborate the brief sighting—of her husband holding hands with the tallest, most beautiful woman
she’d ever seen—and she hadn’t picked up her phone since. For all she knew, the battery was as dead as her marriage.
“I haven’t heard from him,” she mumbled.
“Then you need to let him go.”
“I know that.” Instant annoyance had caused her to speak too sharply, but if it was that easy to get over Cliff, she would’ve done it already.
“Time heals all wounds,” her mother said, attempting to soothe her, but it was difficult to believe anything could help. Charlotte
could barely open her eyes they were so red and swollen from the crying jags that would hit her out of nowhere.
Her mother stood, then bent over to gather the balls of tissue that’d avalanched onto the carpet from the nightstand. “You
have to keep up your strength. Come on down and at least try to eat something.”
Charlotte allowed her heavy eyelids to close. “Not tonight.”
“But I have a surprise for you.” Penny was clearly disappointed. “Something guaranteed to cheer you up.”
She forced her eyes open again. Unless her mother could put her marriage back together, nothing would cheer her up. “Mac and cheese won’t do it this time, Mom,” she said. “But I appreciate the effort.”
“It’s Julian,” Penny said.
Charlotte shoved herself into a sitting position. “Davis?”
Lines of confusion creased her mother’s forehead. “Do you know another Julian?”
She didn’t, but she hadn’t heard from her best friend’s twin brother in years.
He’d hung out with them a lot in high school.
But when they graduated, they all went off to different colleges.
He’d gone to a school on the East Coast to play lacrosse, found a girlfriend and gotten busy.
She’d only remained in contact with Sloane.
The last she’d heard about Julian, which was a couple of years ago, he’d become a landscape photographer who traveled extensively for work but was now based out of Moab, Utah, where he’d opened his own gallery, and he’d become engaged to some woman who worked for one of the travel magazines that featured his photographs.
She probably would’ve heard more about him, but Cliff hadn’t liked Sloane, and Sloane hadn’t liked Cliff, so even her relationship with Julian’s sister had been mostly nonexistent in recent years, especially once Sloane got married and moved to Seattle just after telling Charlotte about Julian’s engagement.
“What does he want?” she asked her mother.
“Didn’t say. He just came to the door to see if you were home, and I invited him to join us for dinner.”
She groaned. “You didn’t . . .”
“Why wouldn’t I?” her mother replied. “You’ve always loved Julian. I’ve always loved Julian. I was happy to see him, especially because I thought . . . Well, I thought he might be able to help
me pull you out of this . . . funk.”
Her sinuses were plugged, making her voice sound nasal. “I’m going through a divorce. It’s not a funk. Anyway, look at me.”
She grabbed a tissue and held it up before blowing her nose, which she’d wiped so often in the past week she could’ve played
Rudolph in a Christmas show. “I haven’t showered for three days. I don’t want him or anyone else to see me like this.”
“Then take a few minutes to clean up,” she said. “You’ll find us in the kitchen when you’re done.”
“I can’t face getting ready! Tell him I don’t feel well,” she said to her mother’s retreating form and flopped back down on
the pillows.
Penny turned at the door. “Charlotte, please. Staying in bed isn’t doing you any good.”
It was better than allowing others to witness the depth of her devastation.
That was probably what Julian had come to see; it was what everyone on the internet was speculating about.
Millions of strangers were talking about her online, probably dying to catch a glimpse of her.
If someone happened to take a snapshot and post it on the internet, she could only imagine the number of views it would get . . .
The world was no longer safe. “I’ll eat later,” she said.
“You’ve been putting me off for days.” Her mother gestured at the rumpled bed. “I can’t see you like this anymore. If you
won’t come down, I’ll call him up.”
Panic gripped Charlotte, causing her to bolt back into a sitting position. “No!”
Her mother didn’t even hesitate. “Come on up, Julian!” she yelled in a fatalistic voice.
The sudden movement had made Charlotte’s head swim. She put a hand to her right temple. “Mom!” she said, her voice a harsh
whisper.
Penny winced as she glanced back, but she was far more determined than Charlotte had expected. When Julian came, she merely
turned to the side to make room for him to get past her in the doorway before she left.
“You look good,” he said sarcastically.
All too aware of her greasy hair, swollen eyes, red nose and blotchy face, Charlotte sniffed. “That’s the first thing you’re
going to say to me?”
“Pretty hard to ignore the obvious.”
Unfortunately, he looked incredible. Of course that would be the case. These days, everything seemed to be engineered to make her feel bad.
No longer the scrawny late bloomer he’d been in high school, with terrible acne and braces on his teeth, he had a clear, unblemished
complexion, broad shoulders and well-defined biceps. And the white cotton of his T-shirt contrasted nicely with his dark tan
and cornflower-blue eyes. Those long, golden eyelashes matched the lighter streaks in his hair and had always been attractive,
but now they were positively dreamy.
She preferred the tall, lanky physique of her husband—soon-to-be ex-husband—she told herself. She’d always liked basketball players. But she could see how some women would find Julian’s stockier frame appealing. He looked incredibly strong.
“You don’t feel even the least bit sorry for me?” she said.
“Looks like you’ve got that covered.” A crooked smile coupled with a wink softened his words, but she took exception to them
all the same.