Seven Months Earlier
CHARLOTTE
Charlotte was lost. Again. Why did she have so much trouble navigating new places?
She should be better at it. She was only twenty-eight, for God’s sake.
And yet she bumbled around like a ‘doddering old lady.’ That’s what her ex, Ian, used to call her anyway.
A few weeks before they broke up, Charlotte had taken the wrong exit on the way to his bar admission party and rushed in twelve minutes late, apologizing while she stomped the snow off her boots onto the mat at the entrance to the pub they had rented.
He winked and said not to worry about it, then told everyone he’d expected her to be late because she couldn’t find her ass with a map and both hands.
Charlotte had been a good sport about the whole thing, her cheeks flaming while she laughed along with the rest of the law students and her boyfriend’s family.
Ha ha, isn’t Charlotte silly? At least she doesn’t take herself too seriously.
Having no sense of direction and no sense of humor would’ve been unforgivable in a girlfriend.
Now, as she hurried down the hallway of the St. Regis Hotel in New York, she hated the fact that Ian might have been right.
She passed the laundry room, feeling the heat from the industrial-sized dryers that were all churning towels and sheets, realizing she was in a staff-only area of the beautiful hotel.
She shouldn’t be there. She wasn’t staff, after all.
She was a guest. Well, sort of, but not the kind that got to relax by the pool or order people around. The kind who took orders, like a nanny.
And Charlotte could not have been happier than to come along for the ride.
It was a welcome distraction from the fact that Ian was getting married that day in St. Lucia to a fellow attorney.
They’d only been together for three months and were having a lavish beach wedding.
Oh, and his new fiancée was pregnant. He was marriage material after all, despite years of telling her he wasn’t.
He’d even sold his stupid Xbox on Facebook Marketplace the month before.
She should have been the one who was pregnant, about to say her vows with sand between her toes as gorgeous Ian smiled down at her.
And she should be the one who would never have to work again.
Well, not for money, anyway. Obviously being a stay-at-home mom was lots of work.
She knew that. But it would be work she would love doing.
She would never find another man like Ian.
He was smart and funny and handsome and he gave the best gifts—and not just for birthdays and Christmas.
Random, thoughtful gifts too. When her grandmother died, he had a star named after her, and the night of the funeral, he took her to the observatory to see it through a telescope.
That kind of love doesn’t come around more than once in a lifetime.
Even if sometimes his teasing hurt her feelings.
But it was too late. He’d dumped her and moved on.
So, as she rushed along the hallway, she let out a desperate sob.
She needed to get into that limo. Her life depended on it.
Otherwise, she’d wind up spending the night alone in her hotel room bawling and searching for posts of her dream wedding with her dream man.
And the thought of that nearly killed her.
She broke into a jog, imagining having a story to tell for the rest of her life.
Oh sure, I’ve been backstage at SNL, kids.
It was incredible. I met Natalie Portman.
When you get a little older, I’ll tell you about the after party. Now, eat your carrots.
Her cell phone rang just as she found an elevator and hit the up button. It was Ted. “I’m almost there! Please don’t leave!” she said.
“I’d never leave you behind, kiddo. Just checking to see if you’re okay.”
“I took a wrong turn. This stupid hotel is so confusing.”
“I should’ve come to your room to get you. I knew you wouldn’t be yourself this weekend.”
A lump formed in her throat. Being understood and appreciated were two of the greatest aphrodisiacs known to women.
Not that she was ever going to actually have sex with her boss.
After all, he was her boss. But moments like this certainly made her think about it.
The elevator door opened, only to reveal that the car was packed with a large group of German tourists, their luggage taking up every inch of floor space that their feet weren’t.
Feeling a sense of panic, she searched for the stairwell door. “Is Antonia pissed?”
“She’s not happy, but that’s not your fault. You know how she gets before these types of things,” he answered. “I’ve got her settled into the back of the limo with a glass of champagne. I’m coming back inside to find you.”
“I’m in the stairwell near the elevators,” she said, hurrying down them as fast as she could in her heels.
Just as she reached the main floor, the door swung open and there he was, standing there with a warm smile and all that confidence.
Charlotte threw herself into his arms, heat flooding her body as her panic faded away.
She pulled back a little a looked up at him.
“Thank God. I was so scared I’d miss everything and I just can’t be alone tonight. ”
“I’ve got you,” he answered, his eyes flicking down to her lips. They’d been doing that a lot lately. Sometimes when the two of them were having long, deep conversations in his office late in the evening, Charlotte unloading all the hurt Ian had caused, and Ted pumping up her ego.
“I believe you,” she whispered, moving her mouth closer to his.
And that was all it took. His hands slid from her back to her hips, and he gripped them with his strong hands, drawing her to him.
Their first kiss was right there in the stairwell of the St. Regis.
She felt feverish and wild and wrong as she clutched the front of his dress shirt, balling it up in her fists.
Seconds later, he had her pinned against the wall, her skirt hiked up, her thong pushed aside.
She’d undone his belt, then her fingers struggled to open the button of his jeans, and he’d moved her hand out of the way and done the rest. His pants were unzipped, his boxer briefs pushed down, and he was thrusting himself inside her with one powerful movement.
It was beyond thrilling—this frenzied, reckless, long-overdue moment.
Someone could open the door and catch them.
Maybe Antonia herself, if she came looking for them.
But she wouldn’t. That would be too much walking.
In his jacket pocket, his phone vibrated, and they both knew it was her.
His movements became more forceful now, more insistent, as their tongues moved together.
Her breath grew ragged and she felt herself coming undone, moaning and whispering his name, which finished him off.
When it was over, they both stood, clutching each other, panting and grinning. “Wow, that was…holy shit,” she said.
A few floors up, a door opened and they scrambled to get their clothes on properly. Just as the footsteps grew closer, he leaned over and kissed her hard on the mouth. “I regret nothing.”
And at that moment, neither did she. Her mind immediately jumped to some mundane day in the distant future, a little smile she’d wear when this evening popped into her mind as she scraped uneaten veggies into the garbage. She would leave out the part of the story where she had sex with her boss.
“Same here,” she said, kissing him quickly. “I’ll only regret it if it never happens again.”
Now, she sat face-to-face with Antonia, in a moment she had always known was coming.
It was inevitable, especially since she and Ted had decided they were going to try for a happily ever after together.
But that wasn’t going to happen now, was it?
Because Antonia would see to it that they’d both be ruined.
Her brain fought the gin as she tried to figure out what her next move should be.
It was a chess match, only Antonia was a grand master and Charlotte couldn’t even name all the pieces on the board.
“The first time was the night you were on SNL.”
Antonia’s face paled and Charlotte could see the pain she was doing her best to hide. “I see.”
She realized suddenly that that night had probably meant a lot to Antonia too.
They had been happy once they got to the set.
Laughing and teasing each other and chatting with the cast members while they waited to go on.
They left the after party early (well, sometime around three a.m., which was early by SNL staff-standards), holding hands.
Her memory of the hand-holding had been blocked out until that very second.
Antonia’s forehead wrinkled up even more than normal. “At the show?”
She shook her head. “In the hotel stairwell. Right before we got in the limo.”
“Oh.” The sound hadn’t been a voluntary one.
It was as if Charlotte had punched her in the stomach.
She watched as Antonia’s mask slid for a second and she transformed to what she really was—an exhausted, betrayed wife whose whole world had just been turned upside down.
She didn’t deserve this. She could be snippy and demanding, sure, but Antonia also had the weight of the world on her shoulders.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, feeling her eyes fill with tears. Oh God, why had she done any of it? Why? It was all a horrible, selfish mistake.
“No, this is…helpful. Thank you.” Her eyes lit up and she said, “That was the weekend Ian got married.”
Nodding, she said, “I was so hurt.”
“And he used your grief and all that insecurity to get what he wanted.”
She started to shake her head in denial, but stopped herself, Oliver’s words coming to mind. He doesn’t deserve you and what he’s doing to you is wrong. Maybe she was a victim? “He had been so kind, so compassionate in the weeks leading up to it. I felt…cared for.”
“And when was the next time?” Antonia asked, her voice suddenly shifting to the one she used on TV.
“The day after we got back to Seattle. He came to my apartment to talk about what happened, but I think we both knew why he was really there. He told me you two hadn’t really been like a married couple for a long time, and that it had been nearly two years since you slept together.
He said you basically had separate lives, but you kept up the facade for professional reasons. ”
“And you believed him.” Her words weren’t accusatory. They were filled with a compassion Charlotte couldn’t fathom, given the situation.
“It made sense. You two have a lot of…tension. Lots of disagreements. It was easy for him to brush off any signs of affection as being part of the show.”
“That’s a reasonable conclusion to reach. I’d probably have assumed the same thing.”
Charlotte downed the rest of her drink, then held the cold glass to her forehead, not caring how she looked. The sun was beating down on her like a bright lamp in an interrogation room.
“You’re too hot. Come sit over here,” Antonia gestured to the chair to her left, which was now in the shade.
Standing, Charlotte felt a distinct urge to run. Just move one foot in front of the other until she found Ted. Only she didn’t. She moved to the chair in the shade and plunked herself down again, ready to talk.