Chapter 38 Charli
THIRTY-EIGHT
Charli
The Return: The neighborhood has walked through grief together and come out the other side still standing, still moving, still whole.
I pull up to the wrought-iron gates of the Creston House just as Reeves appears from behind a massive oak tree. He waves us through, his hand guiding me toward a parking area beside the house. The gates close with a quiet hum behind us.
"Wow," Benjy breathes from the backseat. "Is that a mansion?"
The house looms above us, all weathered gray-green paint and twisted iron balconies. Spanish moss drapes from ancient oaks, and the whole place looks like something from a history book.
"It's big," I say.
I've seen it before. I just forgot, somewhere between six years of Medicaid claims and leaky faucets and choosing between Benjy's school supplies and my own car payment, that this is the world Reeves came from.
The one he ran away from.
The one he'll always be able to come back to.
I don't have a world to run back to. I built mine from scratch.
Reeves opens my door before I can reach for the handle. His fingers brush mine as I step out, sending heat up my arm.
"Welcome," he says, eyes holding mine for a beat longer than necessary.
Benjy scrambles out of his booster seat, craning his neck to take in the towering columns.
"This is where you live?"
"Not really. No one lives here, but a very famous family did once." Reeves lifts Benjy's overnight bag from the trunk. "Want to see the cool part?"
Benjy immediately grabs Reeves's hand and follows beside him through a side entrance, past rooms filled with antique furniture and paintings in heavy frames. Benjy's eyes are wide, his hand trailing along polished wood surfaces.
"Don't touch anything expensive," I whisper.
"Did the very famous people leave all of their stuff when they moved out?" Benjy asks, trying to understand why it's set up as a house but no one lives here. I tried to explain to him in the car what a tour house is, but obviously, he didn't grasp it.
Reeves stops at what looks like a bookshelf and presses a screen. The entire wall swings inward.
"No way," Benjy gasps.
"This was the old secret office. But this still isn't the coolest part. Come on." He leads him to a door that opens to a set of stairs.
Stone steps lead down into soft lighting. Benjy bolts down in front of both of us. My hand finds the rail just as Reeves's hand covers it, steadying me. The contact sends electricity straight through my entire body.
There is a large metal door that is open at the bottom.
The space opens into something I never expected. Clean lines, modern furniture, a kitchen that belongs in a magazine. Everything is pristine, expensive, beautiful.
"I forgot how cool this place is," I gawk as I take it in. "It still blows my mind you can have an underground place like this in this city."
"Completely underground. I have no idea what he did to make it happen." Reeves sets down our bags. "Benjy, this is your room."
He opens a door to reveal a bedroom with a massive bed and artwork on the walls. Benjy runs inside, bouncing on the mattress.
"I get to sleep here?"
"If that's okay with your mom." Reeves looks at me, his expression careful but hopeful.
We hadn't discussed staying, but it's almost seven, so I think he realized we aren't driving back tonight.
"Are you sure we're not imposing?"
"I want you here." His voice drops just enough that only I can hear it.
My stomach flips.
Benjy appears in the doorway, arms spread wide.
"Mom, there's a TV in there that's bigger than our whole living room!"
Reeves grins, the first completely unguarded smile I've seen from him since he's been back.
"Wait until you see the pool."
"There's a pool down here too?"
"Pool, gym, garden. Make yourselves at home. Both of you."
His hand finds the small of my back as Benjy races toward the pool area, and I let myself lean into the touch just slightly. Just enough to feel the solid warmth of him.
"Can we swim right now?" Benjy calls from the pool area.
"After dinner," I call back, following Reeves down a hallway lined with soft lighting.
He opens another door, revealing a master bedroom with a king-sized bed and floor-to-ceiling windows that somehow show a garden view despite being underground.
"Hydroponic setup," Reeves explains, noticing my confusion. "Everything grows year-round down here."
Benjy's footsteps echo from the main area, exploring every corner. Reeves steps closer, his breath warm against my ear.
"You get the master. I'll make sure my phone is charged this time so I can hit the sofa before Benjy wakes up."
Heat floods my cheeks as I remember this morning, the panic of finding Reeves still in my bed when Benjy's footsteps approached.
"Such a gentleman," I whisper back, my fingers brushing his wrist. "Always thinking ahead."
His green eyes darken, and for a moment I think he might kiss me right here.
"Mom, come see this!" Benjy's voice echoes from somewhere deeper in the bunker.
We follow the sound, finding him standing in front of a wall of screens showing different views of the property above. His mouth hangs open as he studies the feeds.
"It's like a spy movie."
"Recon. Can't let any pirates sneak up on us," Reeves says, ruffling Benjy's hair.
"Whoa," Benjy says with his jaw on the floor.
"Let me show you the gym."
The tour continues through a fully equipped workout room, a study with mahogany furniture, and finally the hydroponic garden where tomatoes and herbs grow under artificial sunlight.
"This is where the food comes from?" Benjy touches a tomato plant with careful fingers.
"Some of it. But I think we should head upstairs for dinner. There are a few places in walking distance if you're up for it."
My stomach responds with an embarrassing rumble.
"I take that as a yes," Reeves grins.
Twenty minutes later, we emerge from the house into the thick July evening. The sun hangs low, painting the Garden District in golden light, but the heat still presses against my skin like a warm blanket.
Benjy walks between us, his hand finding Reeves's without hesitation. My heart pounds watching them together, the easy way Reeves matches his stride to Benjy's shorter steps.
"There's a place called Ruby Slipper about four blocks that way," Reeves points down the tree-lined street. "Kid-friendly. Good burgers."
"Can we get milkshakes?" Benjy asks, swinging their joined hands.
Benjy turns those green eyes on me, the same shade as his father's, and I can't refuse.
"I don't see why not. No school tomorrow."
We walk slowly through the neighborhood, past wrought-iron gates and sprawling porches. Reeves's free hand brushes mine as we navigate the sidewalk, his fingers catching mine for just a moment before releasing.
"You're going to spoil him," I say as Benjy skips ahead to examine a fountain.
"I'd like to spoil both of you." Reeves stops walking, his hand finding my elbow, thumb tracing small circles against my skin.
The simple touch makes my breath catch. Everything about this feels dangerous and right at the same time.
Benjy's breathing finally slows into the deep rhythm of sleep. I wait a few more minutes, making sure he's completely out before slipping from the bed.
The sound of running water draws me toward the main area. Reeves stands at the kitchen island with his back to me, chopping something on a cutting board.
His hair is still damp from the shower, and he's changed into a white button-down with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. The fabric stretches across his broad shoulders, and I can see the edge of his tattoos peeking out where the sleeves end.
Worn blue jeans sit low on his hips.
I stop in the doorway to watch him. The overhead lights catch the definition in his forearms as he works, and something deep in my chest tightens.
This moment, this scene, it's everything I used to dream about. Him in a kitchen, comfortable and domestic. Our son sleeps safely in the next room. The three of us together are here like a real family.
Then the weight of Friday crashes over me. He leaves in four days.
Don't ruin this moment. Don't think about it.
But I can't help myself. I've been holding back for so long, protecting myself from wanting exactly this. And here it is, right in front of me, temporary as everything else with him.
I cross the space between us and slip my arms around his waist from behind, pressing my face against his back. The cotton is soft and warm, and underneath I can smell his soap, the clean and familiar scent that makes my neck ache.
"Benjy's out."
He sets down the knife and covers my hands with his, leaning back into me.
"I'm glad he's comfortable. I love watching you with him."
"Ditto."
He turns in my arms, and his hands frame my face. "I've been wanting to do this since we walked through that door."
His mouth finds mine, soft and sure, and I melt into him completely. When we break apart, he brushes a strand of hair off my cheek.
"Thank you for coming. For bringing him here."
"Thank you for thinking of it. The broken AC might have been a blessing in disguise after all."
His thumb traces my bottom lip, and I catch his hand, holding it against my cheek. "One hundred percent."
"We have to take advantage of the time we have left."
The words hang between us, heavier than I intended. His expression shifts, and I see the same awareness in his green eyes.
"Charli..."
"I know. I'm sorry. I don't want to ruin tonight, but it's gnawing at me. We need to talk about it, don't we? About what this is and what happens after Friday?"
He doesn't answer right away, but he doesn't let go of me either. His other hand stops on my hip, thumb moving in slow circles through the fabric of my dress.
"Yeah. We do."
He reaches behind him to the counter and hands me a glass. Ice clinks against crystal, and the scent of lime cuts through the air between us. The pale green liquid catches the light, familiar and perfect.