chapter 23
Julian waited to come home until he was sure Charlotte would be in bed. She typically didn’t stay up late. That made it too
hard for her to write the following morning. So he was shocked when he got back to see that the rest of the house was quiet
and dark, but she was sitting at the table on the deck with her computer.
“Are you writing?” he asked.
The sea kept an even hush below as she closed the laptop and shook her head.
“Then . . . what’s wrong? Why are you out here all alone?”
“I’ve been waiting for you.”
He felt his stomach sink. He’d planned to muddle through this trip until he could get back to his normal life, whatever that
was going to be like now that he was dealing with a debilitating disease. He didn’t want to get in her way or make anything
worse for her. But he could tell she wasn’t going to let him skirt past her too easily. “What for?”
“Sloane and I had an argument tonight.”
That happened occasionally. Sloane was a passionate, animated person. Charlotte was usually a bit more levelheaded, but she stood her ground, especially when Sloane went too far. “About what?”
“I told her I think she’s crazy for even considering leaving Ben. And she told me that Cliff is a total asshole, and I’d be
a stupid idiot to go back to him.”
Julian wanted to say that both of those things were true. But he bit his tongue.
“I didn’t hear you,” Charlotte said.
He spread out his hands. “I didn’t say anything.”
“Exactly. If you were being the you I know, you would have. You had plenty to say the night you dragged me out of bed for dinner right after Cliff dumped me.”
That was before he’d realized his feelings had shifted. “Yeah, well, I haven’t changed my mind about Cliff. I think you already
know that. And you seem to be back on your feet now.”
She jumped up. “I do? Because I feel like I’m drowning, Jules. And you just . . . disappeared on me. Is it about that kiss?
One kiss? Are you kidding me? God, was it that terrible?”
It hadn’t been terrible at all. It’d been revealing—too revealing. It’d felt as if their childhood had set them up for a lifetime of love and happiness—except for the part where
she wouldn’t want him because he was about to fall apart. Even if she did want him, he’d hate for her to accept anything less
than what she deserved.
“That kiss had nothing to do with it.” Other than show him what he’d be missing. As if he’d needed that.
“I don’t believe you. You haven’t even been willing to look at me since. I wouldn’t have done it if I’d known how you were
going to react. I’m sorry.”
“You don’t have to apologize,” he said gruffly. “It wasn’t just you. We both know that.”
She stepped closer, wearing a confused and hurt expression. “Then why are you avoiding me? What have I done? One kiss makes
me poisonous?”
The disappointment he’d been feeling since his diagnosis cut even deeper than usual. “I’m trying to stay away from you, okay?”
Her eyes widened, and she blinked. “Why? That’s what I’m trying to find out!”
“Because I want you too badly, damn it!” He gripped the chair back until his knuckles turned white. He’d said too much. But
he’d been drinking again and had lost his usual restraint. After he’d finished photographing the harbor and daily life in
Sorrento, he’d taken the bus back to Praiano, but there’d been nothing better to do while he waited for everyone to go to
bed at the villa—so that he wouldn’t run into Charlotte again—than to relax with a beer and then another and another.
Her mouth fell open. “That can’t be the problem. You . . . you view me as a sister or something. When I kissed you, it gave
you the ick factor, and now you won’t even look at me.”
“I wish that were the case,” he muttered, too low for her to hear.
“What’d you say?” She stepped up to him, challenging him.
He moved back. He couldn’t see this going anywhere it should. “Nothing.”
“I enjoyed that kiss. I wanted more, but you . . . you weren’t interested.”
“You’re thinking about going back to your husband, remember?” It was an excuse, something he wasn’t nearly as afraid of as
the truth. But at least she’d find his response believable.
“So you don’t think of me like a sister . . .”
Apparently, he’d done a better job of hiding his attraction to her than he’d thought. “Look, I’ve had too much to drink. Again.” The bite of beer lingered on his tongue. “And I’m tired. I’m heading to bed before— I’m heading to bed,” he said, cutting
off his prior sentence so he wouldn’t get himself into even more trouble.
“Julian . . .”
He told himself to ignore the plea in her voice and go inside. But he cared too much about her. He turned back.
“You don’t think . . . You don’t think you and I could ever . . . that we’d ever . . . you know, have a chance at something
more than . . . what we’ve had in the past?”
He could tell it’d been a hard question for her to ask. They’d labeled their relationship as “friends” for so long it was
difficult to take that next step and feel sure about it. But the fact that she seemed interested in him romantically was as
crushing as it was remarkable. He’d never dreamed she’d be able to imagine them together, especially while she was still trying
to break away from Cliff.
But plenty of people struggled to know who and what they really wanted when they were on the rebound, he reminded himself.
“Maybe if circumstances were different,” he said. “But they’re not.”
Sloane had tried calling Ben last night—several times—but she’d been unable to reach him, which she found a little odd. He
was usually good about responding. Because she didn’t hear from him, she’d tossed and turned, imagining that he was hanging
out with his new coworker, mowing her yard, fixing a leaky faucet or teaching her boy how to play ball. It would be just like
him to offer his help. He’d see no point in remaining home alone. Since she’d been gone, he’d attended trivia night with his
friends, played in his weekly softball league game and visited a sports bar a couple of times to watch playoff basketball,
and she didn’t mind. He, too, had the right to have fun. She just didn’t want that fun to include Adele—not when she felt
her marriage was so fragile.
She must’ve worried herself ragged because when she finally dropped off, she slept like the dead. It was several hours later when the sun came through the cracks in the shutters and woke her the next morning.
“Shit,” she said as all her worries—and the memory of her argument with Charlotte—came crashing down on her.
She felt around for her phone. She hadn’t let it go—even to charge it—so it had vanished into the blankets.
She found it under one of the pillows. There were several messages from Ben. But no missed calls. That seemed significant
and gave her the impression he hadn’t been all that anxious to talk to her.
What’s going on?
Is everything okay?
Sorry I wasn’t able to respond. I was playing poker at Tony’s.
Tony was a coworker. He managed the store in which the pharmacy leased space. Ben hung out with him occasionally. They both
liked to mountain bike. But the fact that Tony was also associated with the pharmacy made Sloane wonder if other coworkers
were invited—like Adele.
Was the new girl there?
She held the words on the screen a full three seconds, then deleted them. She didn’t want to come off as a jealous shrew,
even though she currently was a jealous shrew.
A knock sounded at the door.
“I’m up,” she called out.
Charlotte came in wearing a sheepish expression. “Morning.”
Sloane slid up and combed her fingers through her tangled hair. “Morning,” she said, feeling contrite about how she’d behaved last night.
“I just wanted to say . . . I’m sorry.”
“So am I,” Sloane mumbled and set her phone on the nightstand. “I was . . . worked up. You’re going through a lot, and I should’ve
taken that into account.”
“We overreacted. We’re both struggling, and we both have difficult decisions to make.”
“Who could’ve guessed our lives would come to such a turning point? Maybe we’ll both wind up single,” she added with a humorless
laugh.
Sloane assumed Charlotte would make some wise crack about becoming roommates and growing old together. Something with a sentiment
akin to “at least we have each other.” But she didn’t. She became even more serious and reflective. “Here’s the thing, Sloane.
I don’t think you have to wind up single.”
Because Ben was such a good husband. But he’d been a good husband all along. That didn’t solve the problem of whether she
wanted to have children. “You’re saying you do plan to end your marriage?” She was interested in Charlotte’s answer, but she
also wanted to keep the focus off herself.
Charlotte crossed the floor, threw open the shutters and stood in a pool of sunlight as she stared out the window. “Yeah.”
“You really mean it this time?” Sloane had heard a note of commitment in Charlotte’s voice that hadn’t been there before.
“Do you mean that?” she pressed when Charlotte didn’t immediately respond.
“I do. Letting go all at once was a big step. A lot has happened in a short time, so it took me a minute to get my bearings.
But I’m there now.”
Sloane got up and walked over. “You don’t need him, Char. You’ve got us.”
“I appreciate that.” She smiled. “So . . . what are you going to do?”
Sloane wished she could say she’d also come to a decision, but she hadn’t. “I don’t know.”
“Fortunately, you don’t have to make up your mind this minute. Why don’t we take the day to go see the Emerald Grotto?”
“But . . . you haven’t sent in your pages yet.”
“I’m close. I need the support of my friends today. And Lilly. I’ll send them late tonight.”
“Okay. I’ll buy the tickets and you and Jules can Venmo me.”
Lilly had been enjoying herself as much as she could, considering she had no idea what would happen when their stay in Italy
came to an end. But today felt special, like a holiday, so she wasn’t going to let anything sad or worrisome intrude.