Chapter 31
31
We climb the steps to where Nan waits for us on the deck, guilty grins on our faces. Charlie insisted on coming up to “face the music,” though he was laughing as he said it.
“The pair of you,” Nan says, looking between us. “Necking like teenagers for everyone to see.”
“I’m sorry, Nan,” Charlie says. I bite my lip so I don’t snort at the puppy dog eyes he gives my grandmother. “It’s my fault. I—”
He’s silenced. “Charlie Florek, I will not listen to you apologize for something you are clearly not sorry about.”
He drops his head, and Nan winks at me.
“Come on, both of you.”
Charlie holds the door to the screened porch open for Nan, and we follow her inside. She picks up her phone and punches in a number, then sets it to speaker as it rings.
“What is this?” I ask, glancing at Charlie, who looks as confused as I feel.
“I’m staging an intervention,” Nan says.
The ringing stops, and Heather answers. “Hi, Nan. Do you have her?”
“I do.”
“What’s going on?” I say again, heart beginning to race. I have a bad feeling that whatever is happening, I don’t want Charlie here for it.
What the hell? he mouths.
I shake my head. I have no idea.
“Hi, Ali,” Heather says. “I’m just going to put you on hold while I get Dad.”
“I think you should leave,” I tell Charlie quietly.
“Are you sure?”
I nod, and he gives my shoulder a squeeze. “Text me, okay?”
“Where do you think you’re going?” Nan says.
Charlie looks at me for guidance.
“He’s going home, Nan.”
“Actually,” she says, directing her attention to him, “I’d like you to stay. You might be able to help.”
“Is he there?” Heather’s back.
“Who?” our dad asks.
“Ali’s cottage friend.”
“Charlie Florek,” Charlie says, sounding like he’s in a suit and tie and not a wet bathing suit. For a second, I picture him in another life, his real life, completely in control, not a joker but a titan.
“Oh my god,” Heather says. “I have so many questions for you, but we have a hard out in ten minutes, so I’m going to cut to the chase. Alice, you need to go to the opening.”
“This is about the show?” My entire body runs cold.
“Congratulations, Alice,” our dad says. “This is a tremendous honor, a testament to your talent, success, and hard work. I’m damn proud.”
I’m aware of Charlie’s gaze on me. I hate that he’s here right now.
“He cried when I told him,” Heather adds.
I close my eyes. She wasn’t supposed to say anything. “Thanks, Dad.”
“Charlie,” my sister says, “I’m not sure how much Ali has told you about the show.”
He looks to me, not with judgment or surprise. He looks to me so I can decide how I want to handle my sister.
“He knows the basics,” I say. My rage is an icy thing, chilling my fingers and toes.
“One of Alice’s photos is appearing in a group exhibition for a brand-new gallery,” Heather says. “It’s a very big deal. The opening is in a few weeks, but Alice doesn’t want to leave the lake to attend.”
“She thinks I’m too infirm to be left alone,” Nan adds.
“I don’t think that at all,” I say.
“And that it’s too much travel for me to come with her.”
“I don’t want you to wear yourself down.”
“Alice, help me understand where you’re coming from,” my father says. “This is a career highlight. If your fear of public speaking is stopping you, I’d be happy to hire a coach to make sure you’re prepared and comfortable. You’ll be wonderful.”
“It’s not that, Dad.” Though I do hate talking to an audience—I always freeze up. My heart rate spikes, my tongue may as well be made of concrete, and a cool, clammy perspiration chills me to the bone.
One by one, Heather and my father lay out their arguments as if they’re in court. Another, stronger person wouldn’t put up with this level of meddling. Heather certainly doesn’t allow anyone to tell her how to manage her life. But I can only look for the nearest exit.
“We only want the best for you, Turtle,” Heather says.
I’m too angry to explain myself.
“Are we done now?” My voice is barely louder than a whisper.
“What do you think, Charlie?” Nan asks.
Charlie fixes his gaze on me. “I think it’s time to end this call.” And then he walks over to the phone and hangs up on my sister and father.
I blink at him, stunned. It’s the hottest thing I’ve ever witnessed.
“Are you okay?” he asks.
I shake my head. I turn to Nan, trying to keep my voice from shaking. “Why would you do that to me? I’m a grown woman. I make my decisions.”
“I thought it would help.”
“You embarrassed me. I’m trying to respect your independence and privacy when you ask me to. I’ve been trying to give you what you need.” My voice rises in an unfamiliar way. “I’m here for you . Why can’t you be here for me, too?”
Nan flinches, and it feels awful.
“I need some space.” Without waiting, I exit the cottage and head straight for the boathouse.
Charlie gives me space for twelve minutes. When he finds me, I’m sitting on one of the beds, knees bent to my chest, crying. He doesn’t say anything, just sits beside me and pulls me into his arms. Somehow, it only makes me sob harder.
“I’m here,” he whispers into my hair. “You’ll be okay.”
Eventually the tears ebb, but Charlie keeps holding me. It’s quiet except for a light rain tapping against the roof and windows. I could stay here forever.
“Alice?”
I make a mumbling acknowledgment against his chest.
“I have an idea that might cheer you up.”
I gaze at him. He’s wearing a green T-shirt with an image of two Muskoka chairs on a dock on the front that Nan has obviously found for him.
“Want to do some bad art together?”
Make a bunch of bad art. Number seven.
We sit opposite each other at the small table in the boathouse, blank pieces of paper and pencils in front of us.
“We’re going to do blind contour portraits.” I took an introductory drawing class back when I was in school, and this was the first exercise we were given.
“The way it works is that we get five minutes to draw each other’s faces, but you can’t lift your pencil from the page, and you can’t look at what you’re doing. You have to use a single, unbreaking line to sketch my face.”
Charlie taps his bottom lip with a finger. “I just remembered that I don’t like doing things I’m not good at.”
“It’s supposed to be fun. Try not to think about it too much.”
He gives me a serious nod that has me grinning.
“I like it when you do that,” Charlie says, his eyes locked on my mouth as we begin to draw.
“Do what?” I’m starting with his left eye, slowly forming the curve of his lid.
“Smile,” he says.
Charlie’s face is scrunched in a scowl of concentration, and I can’t help but giggle.
“I’m trying to do your hair,” he says. “If this resembles anything other than overcooked spaghetti, I’ll be shocked.”
When the timer on my phone rings, we’re both in hysterics. I’ve laughed more with Charlie in the last couple of weeks than I have in the previous six months combined.
“That cackle,” he says. “It’s brutal. I love it.”
“I mean.” I hold up Charlie’s portrait. I’ve got his left eye overlapping with a giant mouth. His right eye is somewhere up on his forehead. It’s not clear what’s hair or cheek or nose.
“Wow,” he says. “I believe they call that an oral fixation.”
“Let’s see what you’ve got, then.”
Charlie slides his drawing across the table to me. I can make out two large eyes. My lips look more like a heart than a mouth and fall somewhere near where my neck should be. My hair is all loop-the-loops, my chin a sharp V.
“It’s glorious,” I say, still laughing.
“It’s terrible.”
“I’m framing it.”
The rain has begun falling harder, creating dimples in the surface of the lake. We both turn to the window for a moment.
“Do you want to talk about what happened back there?” Charlie asks, breaking the silence.
“I hate that you heard all that—the part where I yelled at Nan especially.”
“You raised your voice, Alice. You didn’t yell. But I wouldn’t give two shits if you screamed at the top of your lungs. You have every right to be upset.”
“Heather knows I don’t love the photo that’s been chosen, but she thinks I’m being fussy.”
“It’s your art. Having an opinion isn’t fussy—it’s your job.”
“The truth is I don’t want the photo in the show. But I can’t back out now, so I’d rather pretend it isn’t happening.”
“Why can’t you back out?”
“Because I’m a terrible coward.”
“Try again.”
I tell Charlie about Elyse—how much I respect her taste, how I don’t want to let her down. “I still can’t believe she wants to include me in her first show,” I say. “Heather’s right: It’s a huge honor.”
“But?”
I turn the pencil over in my fingers.
“It’s just me,” Charlie says gently. “You can talk to me.”
It takes me a second to meet his eyes. His gaze is warm. It’s as if I’m lying in a sun-dappled field in the middle of August.
“I don’t think I have a piece I’d want to display right now, not something that feels true to me. I know, technically, I’ve improved as a photographer, but I don’t feel connected to my work the way I used to.”
“How did you used to feel?”
“Alive. Excited. Like I was taking someone inside my head and showing them how I saw the world.” I watch water droplets trickle down the windowpane. “Since I’ve come back here, I’ve been remembering what it was like when I first picked up a camera. I took a lot of terrible photos, but I also captured shots that felt more personal, more alive than what I do now. I think I’ve been so caught up in building a career, in making my clients happy and working to earn my place, that I lost sight of what makes me happy. The balance is off.”
He smiles. “It sounds like it’s time to correct the balance, then.”
“Just like that?”
Charlie’s stare is relentless. “If not now, then when?”
Every year we get is precious.
I’m at a crossroads.
“Do you think I should drop out of the show?”
He leans back in his seat. “Listen, if someone wanted to show off my work and tell the world I’m awesome, I’d be a cocky bastard. I’d rub it in the face of all my colleagues.” Imagining it brings a soft smile to my lips. “But that’s me . You’re not a self-centered ass like I am.”
“I don’t think you’re a self-centered ass.”
“That’s one of your flaws,” Charlie says. “But the fact that you have integrity isn’t.”
“I’ve done some work I’m not proud of because there’s a paycheck attached to it,” I tell him.
“You have no idea how much I relate.”
“Do you like your job?”
“Most of the time, not particularly.”
“Why do you stay if you don’t enjoy it?” I ask. “Trading must be extraordinarily stressful.”
Charlie’s gaze is as direct as his answer. “I like the money, Alice. I like it a lot.”
“Is that enough?”
“Sometimes. We never had much growing up. I can remember my parents at the kitchen table, sorting through the bills, so stressed. It seemed unfair since they worked so hard. They always figured it out, but I didn’t want that for myself. I didn’t want to be devastated by a car repair.” He leans across the table. “I’m very good at what I do, and I love being good.”
I digest this. “You’ve never really explained why you’re taking a sabbatical.”
There’s a moment of deliberation before he answers. “I needed a break.”
“How come?”
He stares at me across the table, and I can see a debate waging in his eyes.
“It’s just me,” I say, repeating his words back to him. “You can talk to me.”
His focus drops to the portrait he’s drawn, and he runs a finger over the squiggles of my hair. I’m not sure he realizes he’s doing it.
When Charlie meets my eyes, his gaze is discernibly sharper, like he’s locked onto something. “I bet you’d do anything for your friends.”
“I’d do anything for the people who matter to me.” I think he would, too.
His voice is slow, serious. “Do I matter to you?”
“Of course.” I don’t have to think about my answer. Charlie matters to me in a way that would have seemed impossible weeks ago. But the look on his face makes me question whether that’s what he wanted to hear. “Is that a problem?”
“No,” he says quietly. “I’m a lucky man.” He sounds genuinely touched. “Earlier today, you said you didn’t understand why I wanted to do your bucket list with you.”
“I remember,” I say softly.
“When I was young, I took shifts at the restaurant almost every evening in the summer. I didn’t mind too much, because I liked the paycheck, and the place was my second home. Working in a kitchen is grueling, but there’s a rhythm and a rush that’s hard to find anywhere else. But I envied the cottagers having a barbecue on the deck or waterskiing just before the sun sets, when the lake is glass. Percy’s family used to do puzzles and watch movies together at night.” He smiles, but it’s bittersweet. He looks away for a moment before turning back to me. “This time with you and Nan is exactly what I imagined it would have been like for a regular family. You’ve given me the summer I’ve always wanted.”
My throat tightens. “Me too. You’ve given me what I wanted, too.”
“Boat rides and smutty books?”
“Fun,” I tell him. “That’s what I was missing. Until I met you.”
“That’s one thing I’m good for,” he says with a smirk.
Charlie may be able to read me, but I see him, too. I can tell the difference between when he’s flirting because he wants to play, and when he’s trying to keep his heart tucked somewhere safe. His gaze follows me as I stand and walk around the table to him. He pushes his chair back so I can stand between his legs.
“You are fun,” I say, setting my hands on his shoulders and giving him a gentle shake. He’s one of those flame-like people whom we all gravitate toward like moths, soaking in their warmth. “I haven’t felt this comfortable with someone in a very long time. I haven’t laughed this much since I don’t know when. I can speak my mind without being afraid you’ll judge me. It’s so freeing. So, yes, you’re fun. That’s a gift, Charlie.”
He looks up at me with something like affection. “I’ll come to your show.”
“What?”
“If you decide to do it, I’ll be there.” He holds my gaze.
I imagine a pair of clear green eyes in a sea of blurry faces. “ If I decide to do it, I’ll look at you when I give my speech. I’ll picture you naked.”
He grins. “You haven’t seen me naked.” His hands find my rib cage and run up and down my sides.
“Doesn’t mean I can’t picture it.”
He pinches my butt. I swat him on the arm, but he has the reflexes of a big cat, capturing my hand and bringing it to his mouth. He sucks on the sensitive pulse point on the inside of my wrist while his other hand sneaks under my caftan and up my thigh. Higher. His fingers pause when they reach the bottom of my bathing suit top. He gazes at me, his lips still pressed to my wrist.
“Ready for second base?”
I pull my caftan over my head. “I’m ready for a home run, bases loaded.”
Charlie chuckles, but his gaze has gone dark. “Trouble, and no.”
I give him a look of exasperation.
“You do know that I’m not going to fall in love with you if we have sex,” I say.
“You can’t guarantee that.” He flashes me a cheeky grin. “I’m very good.”
I laugh. “You’re something.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll make it worth your while. Besides, I have to keep you interested somehow.”
I wonder if there’s an ounce of truth in his words, but then his thumb brushes across the still-damp fabric of my bathing suit top, and I shiver. Lip pulled between his teeth, Charlie pinches my nipple between his fingers.
“As good as that feels,” I say, head falling back on a gasp as he rolls the tight bud between his fingers, “I’m not sure you can make it worth my while from second base.”
In response, he takes my hand and slides it down my stomach to the edge of my bathing suit bottom.
I stiffen. “I’ve never done that in front of someone else.”
Charlie looks momentarily stunned, but then he smiles. “Don’t make me do all the work, Alice Everly.”
I stand between his thighs, hesitating for a moment, before I dip my hand below the edge of my suit. Charlie watches, hunger darkening his stare. I shut my eyes, tipping my head back, concentrating on the feel of his breath against my stomach and the press of my fingers. A quiet sound escapes my throat, and it’s all it takes for Charlie to get to his feet and carry me to one of the twin beds.
“I thought you didn’t want to do all the work,” I pant as he sets me down.
“I wouldn’t want to be accused of being lazy,” he says, before replacing my fingers with his own.
After a volcano erupts behind my squeezed-shut eyelids, Charlie bundles me in his arms. I nuzzle into his chest, close my eyes, and breathe him in. Hot skin and that other luxurious, green scent that I find very relaxing.
My words jumble somewhere between my brain and my tongue. “What is the way you smell?”
A hand trails up and down my arm. “The way I smell?” I can hear him smiling.
“Yeah. I can’t figure it out. It’s expensive and plant-y.”
I feel his chuckle against my cheek. “It’s my body wash. Eucalyptus and lavender. I bought it at a hotel spa.”
I raise my head. “That’s it. You smell like a spa.”
He laughs again. “Is that a good thing?”
“Very. I might need to borrow it.”
His fingers move from my arm to my hip. “I want you to know that I don’t think you’re a turtle.”
“No?”
“No. You’re a Pegasus-unicorn, Alice Everly. You’re one of a kind.”