Chapter 18 #2
After a beat, she leans back, frowning up at me. “No, you’re not. What’s wrong? This is more than nachos. Bea’s showering before we start episode four. We have time to talk.”
I nod, chewing my bottom lip as I decide how much to tell her, but Charlotte is too sharp to let me get away with that.
“Uh-un,” she says, stepping away with a wag of her finger. “Don’t lie. That’s rule number one. We both agreed.”
“I’m not lying,” I say, sighing as I admit, “I was…editing.”
She shakes her head. “Nope. Not okay. No editing. I need to know the truth and nothing but the truth. If I don’t know what’s really wrong, how can I help?”
It’s so close to what I texted Blue that I have no choice but to pull her deeper into the bedroom, close the door, and spill it all.
When I’m done, she’s pacing the same path I was wearing in the carpet in front of the bed ten minutes before, shaking her head and muttering beneath her breath. “I don’t know why I’m even a little surprised. Men are the fucking worst! No offense.”
“None taken,” I say, meaning it. I’ve truly never understood why so many men see women as something less than fully human, something it’s acceptable for them to treat like animals. Or worse. “But yeah, he’s even more of a monster than I thought. We can’t let her go to Mobile now, right?”
She spins to face me, her hands propped on her hips. “That isn’t our decision to make, Nix. Beatrice isn’t a kid. She’s twenty-eight and fully capable of making her own decisions.”
I wince, hating the thought of telling Bea, even as a part of me admits that Charlotte’s right. “But won’t something like this make it harder for her to trust herself in the future? That’s what Blue said, and he’s no dummy.”
Charlotte’s forehead furrows. “Oh, honey, it’s already going to be almost impossible.
Even without this. The man who betrayed me fucked my assistant.
After we were broken up.” She breaks off with a deeper humming sound.
“At least I assumed it started after we broke up. Though now that I think about it…”
She trails off with a shake of her head.
“Anyway! It doesn’t matter. He fucked my much younger assistant.
Tale as old as time, betrayal as old as rhyme, not all that surprising or terrible in the scheme of things.
But it still made it hard for me to trust myself.
I was so busy coming up with reasons I shouldn’t bother trying that I almost missed out on meeting a very nice man. ”
I gather her into my arms, chest warming as she comes without a hint of resistance. She just twines around me like a vine, the way she does now that she’s stopped fighting this. Fighting us. “Oh yeah? Do I know this guy? This very nice man?”
She lifts her chin with a laugh. “Yes, I think you might.”
“But I’m not really all that nice, Char,” I add, smile fading. “I certainly don’t feel like being ‘nice’ right now.”
“Which is understandable,” she agrees. “And ‘nice’ was the wrong word. You’re not always nice, but you’re kind. And fair. And a good person who I, for one, would like to keep from behind bars.”
“Because you like fucking me so much?” I shift a hand down to squeeze her ass through her silky-soft cashmere pants.
God, these pants…
They are so soft, so sexy, and I so can’t wait to get them off her as soon as we head to bed. She’s staying over for the first time tonight. I washed my sheets this morning in honor of the momentous occasion and bought mangos to make fresh mango crepes for her in the morning before we head to work.
“Yes.” She shifts her hips forward, nudging against the erection she’s already inspired.
“But also, because we need men like you on the outside.” She shrugs.
“You would be way too popular in prison. I’d never stand a chance of hanging on to you.
You’d find a hot prison boyfriend and forget all about me. ”
I arch a brow. “Pretty sure I’m straight.”
“That’s what they all say. Until they’re in prison.
Or until women are too hard to get to. My girlfriend grew up in Saudi Arabia, and she swears, all the young men there have parties where they just go at each other all night.
The cultural segregation of men and women is so intensely enforced, it’s just easier to have fun with other guys. ”
“Isn’t that illegal there, though?” I ask. “Don’t they…kill people for being gay?”
Charlotte nods. “Yeah, but not for the past decade or so, I guess? And you know men. If they’re young and horny, they’re probably not thinking about the consequences of their actions. Not in the heat of the moment anyway.”
I grunt. “Wow.”
“Yeah,” she agrees.
“This took a conversational turn I wasn’t expecting.”
Her lips curve. “You’re welcome.”
I laugh. “But I liked what you said earlier.”
“About trusting Beatrice to know what’s best?”
“About wanting to hang onto me, but yeah, that, too. And I just heard the shower turn off, so…” I sigh, forcing myself to pull away from her curvy, cashmere-cuddly-and-sexy body. “Guess we should head back to the living room and talk about it.”
Charlotte nods sympathetically. “Yeah, we should. I’m sorry. I really wish neither of you had to deal with this bullshit.”
I sigh again, more heavily this time. “Yeah, me, too. I would much rather be focusing on figuring out if it’s okay to tie you to my bed with these pants.”
“Damage my cashmere, and I’ll damage you,” she says pleasantly as we head back down the hall. But she winks at me over her shoulder as she adds, “We can use some scarves at my place next week. When you’re back from your trip. You can take my being-tied-up virginity.”
My eyes widen. “Really? You’ve never…”
She shakes her head. “Nope, but I’m open to trying new things. And I trust you.”
I take her hand, giving it a grateful squeeze. I trust her, too. Maybe more than I’ve ever trusted anyone. Blue and I have been friends longer, but if Charlotte says we need to be honest with Beatrice, then that’s what we’ll do.
An hour later, after Beatrice has cycled through several of the stages of grief—anger, denial, back to anger, sadness, acceptance, and back to anger again—I know it was the right call.
Then she says, “That’s it, then. I can’t do the last two shows. I hate to let down the fans or the rest of the band, but it isn’t worth the risk,” and my shoulders finally drop away from my ears.
My chest loosens, ribs trembling as I pull in my first deep breath since Blue texted earlier. “You have no idea how relieved I am to hear you say that.”
Bea’s lips twitch as she glances my way.
“Of course, I do. I know how protective you are, Bay. I mean, that’s a big part of the reason I came here.
I knew you would have my safety top-of-mind.
” She sags lower in the couch cushions as she adds, “And you always saw him so much more clearly than I did. You hated him from the start, even more than Mom and Dad.”
“I didn’t hate him,” I say, earning a hard look from the corner of Bea’s tired eyes. “Okay, maybe I hated him,” I amend. “But only because I loved you and wanted the best for you. Way better than some jerk who worked so hard to keep you small.”
She winces. “Yeah. I…” She plucks at one of the giant buttons on her pajamas. “I can’t believe it took me so long to see that about him. Guess I’m not as smart as everyone thought I was back in school.”
Charlotte pipes up from the other couch, where she’s been keeping a low profile, letting us do most of the talking.
“Stop that. You’re very smart, and you didn’t do anything wrong.
You gave a man who seemed to care about you your trust, and he abused it and took advantage of your sweet, trusting heart.
There’s nothing to be ashamed of about any of that. ”
Bea casts a grateful glance Charlotte’s way.
“Thanks.” She sits up, bracing her hands on her knees with a sigh.
“But I’m not young or sweet or trusting anymore.
I’m going to go write my publicist right now, let her know that I won’t be going back to finish the last two tour dates, after all, and get her advice on next steps.
As much as I want to tell Kai to go to hell, it might be better to pretend I’m just too sick or something.
I want out with the least amount of resistance possible. ”
I nod. “I agree. There will be time to tell him to go to hell later.”
Charlotte grins. “Yeah, maybe in a revenge song or two.”
Beatrice laughs, a dark, ominous laugh that lifts the hairs on my arms as she says, “Oh, girl, I’m well on my way to an entire album. I’m going to drag his reputation down to the underworld and leave it there to rot.”
“I’m so proud,” Charlotte says.
“Me, too. Even if the way you said that was a little scary,” I say, grinning at Beatrice as she pops to her feet with a far less chilling giggle.
“I think I might be entering my scary era,” she says, collecting her water glass from the coffee table. “Better to be the thing hiding in the dark than the girl wandering through the haunted house with no idea there are monsters in the basement, right?”
“Maybe?” I say after a beat, not really sure why the idea doesn’t sit well with me.
Before I can figure it out, Charlotte adds, “Better to be the girl living her best life in the sunshine, and I have no doubt you’re going to get there.
” She shrugs with a wicked smile of her own.
“After you drag him to the underworld and teach him a thing or two about all the reasons even monsters should be afraid.”
Beatrice’s eyes go wide. “Oh my God, I love that! All the reasons monsters should be afraid…” She backs toward the hall, energy visibly vibrating in her frame. “I have to go write that down. Right now. And some other stuff. I feel a song coming on.”
“Go! Write!” I shoo her away as Charlotte adds, “Yes! Right now. But I want to hear it as soon as it’s ready!”
“You will,” Beatrice promises, blowing us both kisses. “I’ll dedicate it to you both. Good night, family. Thanks for all the help. I really appreciate it.”
After she leaves, Charlotte and I sit in easy silence for a beat.
I’m thinking about family.
About how much I like the thought of the word applying to Charlotte.
About how much I like the thought of her being one of my people.
For keeps.
I’m not sure what she’s thinking about until she whispers, “I always thought I’d love having a little sister.”
I glance her way, my smile faltering at the worry in her gaze. “What’s wrong? Bea adores you. I think you two are getting along great, right?”
Charlotte nods, the skin around her eyes tightening. “Yeah, I do. But what happens if you and I break up? Do I still get to keep being her friend? Or will she have to choose sides?”
I stand, knowing the best way to answer her.
Without a word, I plop down beside her, pull her into my lap, and hug her tight, waiting until she relaxes into me before I whisper against the top of her head, “She will never have to choose sides. I would never stand in the way of two people who care about each other, especially if those people are people I care about, too.”
She pulls back, holding my gaze. “Will you? Still care? Even if it ends badly?”
“It won’t end badly, we both have too much integrity for that,” I tell her, meaning it.
Believing it. “I might disappoint you someday, but I’ll never betray you, Char.
Not now, not ever. If I’m ever being interviewed by a cheesy lifestyle magazine before my wedding to another woman, I will only have wonderful, respectful things to say about you. ”
“Or you could just say nothing, that’s fine, too,” she says with a soft grin. “And you won’t marry my much younger assistant? You won’t even fuck her and make sure I know about it through a friend of a friend?”
“I’ll cut my own dick off first.”
She laughs.
“What?” I cuddle her closer, doing my best to keep my hands off her ass until we’re done with the “meaningful conversation” portion of the evening. “I was serious.”
“I know you were,” she says, still laughing, but it fades as she adds, “weirdo,” in a tender way that makes me feel as treasured as any compliment.
Maybe even more treasured. Because it makes me feel seen and like the person doing the seeing likes me, even when I’m a weirdo.
Maybe even more than likes me…
We’re falling in love. Both of us. I’m not alone in this.
I can feel it in the way she kisses me, the way she takes my hand, leading me to my room where we do our best to keep things quieter than usual, out of respect for my sister down the hall.
I know that’s probably why it feels so much more intimate, more careful and connected than it has before, but still…
As we curl together after, catching our breath, the thought that I finally know what it’s like to “make love” drifts through my head.
And it doesn’t seem cheesy or embarrassing, the way I would have assumed it would. It just seems right.
Good.
So right and good, I should have known to keep an eye out for the other shoe about to drop.
I really, really should have…