45. Chapter 45
Chapter 45
Aiden
‘ C an I ask you something?’ Charlotte’s soft words drew my gaze away from the socks that I was turning the right way around and towards the other side of the room. We’d had a couple of sleepovers since that first night, but weekday mornings didn’t allow the time to luxuriate in each other’s bodies. In fact, most of our mornings were frantic and frenetic, as if we were desperate to get our fill of each other before real life called us away.
‘Sure,’ I said, turning away from where Charlotte was straightening the sleeves of last night’s jumper and standing to pull on my trousers. I’d enjoyed last night… and this morning. But I needed to leave. The idea of lingering, of drawing out our goodbye, felt weird. Or rather, weird that it didn’t feel weird. And that bothered me.
‘What was your first impression of me?’
She dipped her chin as she moved to make the bed, shaking the duvet out in front of her with a practiced flick of her wrists. It was only the small stain of pink across her cheeks that hinted that she might care about my answer. Grimacing, I stepped forward to smooth out my side of the bed. No. Not “my side.”
‘That bad, huh?’ she joked when I didn’t say anything, a woodenness lying beneath the lightness of her teasing.
‘I… uh…’ I raked my fingers through my hair, mind racing. I never spoke about this. Everyone that mattered already knew about Bridget—something that had always felt like a curse until now. Picking up a throw pillow, I mirrored Charlotte’s movements and set it on the bed.
I could tell her I didn’t think anything of her when we first met. Barely even remembered her name. I frowned as I straightened one of the cushions that had fallen forward. But that was a lie. I couldn’t have forgotten Charlotte if I’d tried. Not her name and not the flicker of hurt that had glimmered in her green eyes when I took out my frustrations on her. With a resigned sigh, I sat on the edge of the freshly made bed, dropping my gaze to the patch of carpet between my feet.
‘I wasn’t in a good place that day we met.’
Charlotte didn’t say anything, but I felt the mattress dip as she took a seat beside me, waiting for me to continue.
‘To be honest, I wasn’t in a good place for a long time, and you just had the misfortune of knocking on my door while I was right in the middle of it.’ I tilted my head to one side, offering her a sheepish smile.
‘When I first moved in…’ I swallowed, my throat tightening with every word, as if my body were begging me to stop. ‘I’d just come out of a long-term relationship.’
‘With Bridget.’
My head snapped to the side as I turned to look at Charlotte. How did she know about Bridget? Louise wouldn’t have told her. I studied her face, but there was only a spark of curiosity that glimmered in the warm pools of her eyes.
‘Yeah,’ I nodded. ‘We were friends growing up and then one day we became more.’ I didn’t think I could tell her. I didn’t want to see the moment when her curiosity turned to pity. I scrubbed a hand across my jaw, speaking as if I were speaking about someone else. ‘We were together for seven years and then we weren’t.’
‘And then you came here?’
I blew out a breath, giving my head a small shake. Anyone else would have asked what happened, would have felt entitled to know more. Even for those that knew, more was never enough. But not Charlotte. She’d never asked for more than I was willing to give. Maybe that was why this worked so well.
‘Yeah, then I came here.’ I straightened my spine, the ice thawing in my chest as I raised my gaze from the floor. ‘When I first moved in… part of me didn’t think it was permanent. I reasoned with myself that this was just a rough patch, you know?’ I could see her nodding in my periphery, and the action, the implied agreement and understanding, was enough to coax out the words I’d kept to myself. ‘I completely ignored the fact that we’d divided all our belongings down to the cutlery and that I was sat in an apartment in Notting Hill without bedroom furniture while she was over in Angel on my second-hand bed my parents had given me.’
‘That doesn’t seem fair.’
I turned in time to catch Charlotte’s nose crinkle in a frown. The gesture was so fucking sweet and so at odds with the dark bitterness of memory that I couldn’t help the laugh that rumbled across my chest.
‘No.’ I shook my head in agreement. ‘No, it doesn’t. But I thought—for far longer than I should have—I thought that this,’ I said, waving my hand at nothing in particular, ‘was temporary. That I didn’t need to buy any replacements because we’d get back together, and I’d move back.’
I was an idiot.
Charlotte’s lips thinned into a hard line, and I could see the thoughts and questions whirring in her mind, but she stayed quiet. I got the impression that she would have let me change the subject if I’d wanted to. To continue to bury and ignore the betrayal that had led me here. Maybe that was what kept me going.
‘I slept on the sofa for a month,’ I admitted. An entire month of backache and poor sleep before Ed had forced me to buy a bed. Shame coloured the edges of my vision as I lowered my gaze once more. ‘It was almost three months before I finished unpacking.’
‘So when I came knocking…’ Charlotte spoke softly, breaking the silence.
‘Part of me hoped it was her,’ I replied honestly, screwing my eyes shut as the familiar buzz of bitterness ignited beneath my skin.
‘But it wasn’t,’ she murmured, her words cutting through my mental self-flagellation.
‘No,’ I exhaled. ‘It wasn’t.’
Silence blanketed us once more and when I looked up, Charlotte was sitting stiffly beside me, her eyes focused on something far away from where we were.
‘Instead.’ I swallowed, steeling myself for what came next. ‘There was this woman… all smiles, long legs, and these eyes.’
She blinked, my words bringing her back to the present, back to the bedroom, back to me.
‘When you smiled at me that day…’ I shook my head, turning my shoulders to face her. ‘I was so angry.’ I paused. ‘Angry at Bridget. Angry at myself. Angry at the world. And seeing you with that Goddamn cupcake… I wanted someone else to feel as miserable as I did.’
‘By the time I’d finally got my shit together and could admit what an ass I’d been, I felt too ashamed to say anything.’ My eyes scanned her face for any insight into what she was thinking. ‘I knew I needed to… but you were this walking reminder of my worst behaviour, and I chickened out. So, I avoided you instead.’
Something in Charlotte’s eyes softened and the corner of her lips crooked up into a small smile before she said, ‘You’re not avoiding me anymore.’
‘No.’ I blew out a laugh. ‘Definitely not.’
‘What changed?’
‘I did,’ I shrugged. It was Charlotte’s turn to cock her brow, but it was true and I said as much. ‘I had to. After a while I realised that if I wanted things to get better—for life to get better… then I couldn’t keep doing what I was doing, living how I was living.’ The wording made it sound much more eloquent and impressive than it had been. What had actually happened was that Louise had come over every single day and bullied me into doing things, buying groceries, doing laundry, and finding a therapist. She’d essentially held me hostage in my own apartment and assured me that unless I sought help, she’d move in to “take care of me.” Turns out negative reinforcement was a powerful motivator.
‘So, you unpacked the boxes.’ Charlotte said, and I could hear the smile in her voice.
‘Yup, both literally and figuratively.’ The words had come out without thinking and I grimaced at the sound of them. Turning to face her, I found her pretty lips were pursed in confusion.
‘Therapy,’ I answered the unasked question. The single word floated between us as Charlotte’s eyes widened in surprise.
‘Really?’
I nodded, stiffening my spine and bracing myself, for I didn’t know what—judgement, pity, wariness, shrieking? I forced myself to sit still. To hold my position on the tightrope of vulnerability and see what would come of it. Green eyes flitted across my face, studying me.
‘I had a therapist too,’ Charlotte said, stepping out onto the line and meeting me partway.