Chapter 22
22
“Does this mean we have to go skinny-dipping together?”
I convinced Charlie to stop working and go for a swim. Now we’re floating, Charlie on his Pegasus-unicorn, me on the moose. I’m getting so good at boarding the thing that I can wear my straw hat and caftan without worrying about falling off or being ravaged by the sun.
Charlie doesn’t reply. His hands are joined behind his head, his legs spread on either side of the golden tail, feet dangling in the water. “Nah,” he says after a moment. He looks like a deity of sunlight and water. It’s an effort not to stare. “You can find someone else to kiss and get naked with.” Charlie tilts his head to me, and I feel a spark of disappointment that I immediately smother. “Harry, for example.”
“That’s not going to happen.”
“Why not? He too good-looking and kind for you?”
“I’m not interested in dating anyone right now.”
Charlie smirks at that. “Just fucking, then?”
“What? No!”
“You’re bright red, Alice.”
“Shut up.” I narrow my eyes at Charlie. “What about you?”
“What about me?”
“You mentioned your last relationship the other day. Was it a bad breakup?”
“Not really. I never imagined it going anywhere. It was fun for a while.” Charlie’s eyes are fastened to mine. “Yours was rough?”
I can do this. I can talk about Trevor without crying. “Brutal. You heard what Nan said. We were together for four years. We lived together. I didn’t see it coming.”
“Is that why you’re immune to Harrison’s charm—you’re not over your ex?”
“No, that’s not it.” And as I say it, I realize it’s true. If Trevor wanted a second chance, I wouldn’t give it a split second of consideration. “I’m not sure I can invest in another relationship.”
Charlie turns, propping himself on an elbow. “What happened?” His voice is so gentle. And because I haven’t been able to confide in anyone without bursting into tears, and because he’s easy to talk to, I do.
I tell Charlie all the ways we were compatible. We were homebodies. Serious about our work. Always reliable. We each ran our own businesses. We bonded over being both creative and organized. Two peas in a tidy pod.
“I grew up in a chaotic household,” I say to Charlie. “There was a lot of love, but it was loud and messy—like living in a monsoon. With Trevor, things were calm. Quiet.”
“Sounds dull,” Charlie says, eyeing me while he drags his hand back and forth in the water in lazy strokes.
“No.”
He raises his eyebrows like, Really?
“Maybe a little predictable,” I concede. “Our friends called us the perfect couple. And I loved it.”
What I don’t tell Charlie is how much being a flawless girlfriend required. I’d try on outfit after outfit before our dates, straightening my hair to a shine, making myself sleek and effortless looking. I started listening to classical music because Trevor loved it. I made gourmet meals in our gourmet condo, and we’d eat on our designer chairs, drinking red wine and discussing art and work and Steve Reich. I loved all the things he loved. At least, that’s what I thought until the end.
I don’t know how to make you happy, Alice. Do you?
“Why?” Charlie asks.
“Why what?”
I slant my head and find him studying me with a frown of concentration.
“You said you loved being called a perfect couple. Why?”
“Because it’s exactly who I wanted to be.”
“There’s no such thing as perfect.”
“In theory.”
“And if there were, it would be boring.” He flicks his hand in the water, sending a gentle arc of water over my toes. “And you, Alice Everly, are anything but boring.”
The compliment washes over me like a warm breeze.
“Trevor got engaged just two months after he dumped me,” I say after a moment. “It felt like a second betrayal—I put so much effort into his business, so much effort into us.”
“I think you dodged a bullet,” Charlie says. “He sounds like an ass who didn’t know when he had a good thing.”
My lips part in surprise. “Thanks,” I whisper.
“It makes sense,” he says.
“What does?”
“You’re acts of service.”
My stare is blank.
“It’s your love language.”
“I’m sorry, are you citing romance self-help to me?”
“Not with that attitude.”
I stifle my smile. “My apologies. Please, do go on.”
“My mom had a copy of The 5 Love Languages in our house growing up.”
“Which you read because…”
“Girls,” he says.
“Naturally.”
“Anyway, people often show love the way they want to receive it. You’re acts of service. You show love by performing thoughtful acts, like helping your ex with his business and bringing Nan to the lake. But those gestures can go unnoticed or unappreciated.”
It’s like a gear locking into place in my brain. That is me.
He shifts onto his back, lacing both hands behind his head, and my gaze briefly catches on the flex of bicep as his elbows splay on either side of his temples.
“But the thing about love languages,” Charlie says, “is it’s not just about how we express love, but how we receive love. You need someone to do something for you that makes you feel loved. Someone to help you.”
I shake my head. “I hate asking for help.”
“That’s because deep down, you want someone to see what you need before you have to ask.”
“You’re full of surprises, Charlie Florek.”
A gust of wind has us spinning away from each other, but Charlie tugs on the rope that tethers us together so that he’s facing me, his head near my feet. He wraps a hand around my ankle so we don’t drift apart, and I hold on to his. It’s tactical, but my body doesn’t know that. My skin sizzles beneath his palm, sending a hot bolt up my calf.
“What’s your love language?” I ask. “I assume teasing isn’t included in the book.”
The corner of Charlie’s mouth lifts into a seductive smirk, and I’m certain his grip tightens on me. “Physical touch.”
Heat ripples through me once more, settling between my legs. “Oh.”
“Which brings us back to you.”
“Me?” It comes out breathless.
The smirk grows. “You’ve back-burnered relationships, but what about sex?”
My cheeks flush again, but this time, I answer honestly. “I haven’t got that sorted out yet. I know it sounds prudish, but I can’t get my head around sleeping with someone I don’t care about.”
Charlie stares at me, no hint of the joker anymore. I like this about him—he has an instinct for when it’s okay to play and when it’s better to listen. He sees what people need the way I do.
“Anyway…” I smile. “Let’s just say I’ve appreciated page 179 of Ruling the Rogue more than once.”
Charlie’s laugh bounces around the bay. “Good for you.”
We look at each other, grinning.
“I used to think I’d settle down with someone,” he says. “House. Backyard. Kids. A big, slobbery dog.” He gazes at the shore, and the smile on his face makes me ache. I can see his fantasy as clear as a photograph. “I used to think I’d have all of it.”
“Past tense?”
“Yeah.” He seems to choose his words carefully. “I’ve realized I’m not built for something long-term.”
“Resigned bachelor?”
“Something like that. The relationship my parents had, that my brother has—that cosmic, soulmate thing—it’s not in the cards for me.”
“Because you don’t want it?”
There’s a deep sadness in his gaze. “I can’t want it.”
I chew on my lip before I speak. I don’t want to overstep. But Charlie’s having none of it.
“Say whatever’s on your mind, Alice.”
“The way you looked at Sam and Percy the other day. You seemed…unhappy?”
“Do all your friends undergo such thorough scrutiny?” Charlie says, locking his eyes onto mine. “Or am I special?”
“I’m sorry. I just…Forget it.” I let go of his leg and reach for the rope so I can pull myself toward the dock, but then Charlie speaks.
“They remind me of my parents.”
I turn back to him.
“The way they look at each other,” he says. “The way they touch each other constantly. How they whisper to each other. Even the way they make fun of one another. It’s so much like my mom and dad.”
“That must hurt.”
“Sometimes,” he admits. Creases form at the corners of his eyes when he smiles. “And sometimes it’s really nice.”
We watch each other in silence. The only sounds come from the lake. Water lapping against the shore, the distant hum of a boat circling the bay, the occasional soft splash of a pine cone falling into the water.
Charlie’s expression turns as serious as I’ve seen on him.
“What?”
“You should give Harrison a shot,” he says. “I think you’d get along.”
I get along with you .
“You have more in common than you think,” Charlie says. “He’s just getting out of a relationship, too.”
I’ve been under the impression that Charlie is something of a playboy, someone who wouldn’t turn me down for an innocent kiss if asked. It stings that he’s trying to set me up with his friend. And not just a little. It stings enough to tell me I’m heading in a dangerous direction, straight toward a crush. It’s trademark Alice Everly. Crush fast. Crush hard. Get my heart ripped out of my chest. I need to step away before it’s too late.
“You’re right,” I tell Charlie with a grin that pulls my cheeks too tight. “I should go out with Harrison. A night on the town would be nice.”
He blinks like I’ve surprised him. “Good.”
“Great,” I add. “I can’t wait.”
A muscle twitches in Charlie’s jaw, and he looks out at the water.
Number five, here I come.