Chapter 13 – Annabelle
Chapter Thirteen
ANNABELLE
Atingle on the palm of my hand where he’d kissed lingers.
All through our meal we talked, and I learned more about him.
Charles is easy to talk to, and I can’t help but be rather smitten when he gives me compliments, and I believe him.
I can see the sincerity in his eyes, the way the softness is at the edges.
“You don’t have to do that,” I tell him as he starts to clean up the kitchen. “Leave it in the sink. I’ll get it later.”
“It’s fine. You cooked, I’ll clean.”
“You helped,” I remind him. “And a cleaner comes in.”
“And you clean before they get here.” I do. “Don’t you? Admit it.”
“You got me.” I laugh. It’s strange having my husband send people to clean.
Not because there is anything wrong with that.
People need to make a living; hell, I’ve cleaned buildings before.
The pay isn’t terrible, and you can listen to audiobooks while you do it.
It’s strange because I’m one of the staff.
I’m being paid to be here. Plus, there’s really not much to clean up with it only being me.
“It will only take a few seconds. I’ll pop them in the dishwasher.”
“There isn’t—” I cut off when a magical door next to the sink opens. I run around to see it for myself. “Has that really been here the whole time?” I laugh at myself. This place is way too high-tech for me.
“You didn’t know?”
“It blends in so well. How did you open it?” I’m laughing, but Charles doesn’t appear amused. “I promise I’m not that obtuse. I’m just new around here.”
“Mr. Rise should have told you.”
“I’m not asking him that. Then I’ll really feel stupid.” Again, he is not amused by this. “Charlie.” I smack his arm. “It’s kind of funny.”
“It is a little cute that you couldn’t find it.” His face grows soft for me again. I could get used to the way he looks at me. Stop it, Annabelle. You’re married. And he works for your husband, I remind myself for the umpteenth time.
“Are there any other things in this kitchen I should know about?” I joke while he finishes loading the dishwasher, and it dawns on me that when he’s done, he’ll be leaving.
A sadness fills me that I’ll once again be all alone in this big space.
It’s been nice having someone to talk to and share things with.
“You know about the ice maker, right?” I nod. Charlie closes the dishwasher and starts it. “The button to flip it open is under here.” He shows me.
“Thanks.” I shift on my feet.
“What’s wrong?” I worry my bottom lip between my teeth. Charlie's hand comes up to grip my chin between his forefinger and thumb to remove it. “Talk to me.”
“Maybe you could show me how to work that fireplace, and I think there might be a television hidden in the wall.” I never hang out in the living room, but I’m stalling now, not wanting him to go.
“I can do that, but that’s not the reason for your mood change.”
“Am I that obvious?”
“You went from laughing to becoming closed off.”
“It’s nothing.”
“It’s not nothing, Belle, please. I can’t fix it if you don’t tell me.”
“Well, now I can’t tell you because then you’ll do it because I asked and not because you want to.” My cheeks start to warm, and he moves closer.
“I’ll camp out here until you tell me.”
“Really?” I laugh. “Mr. Wick wouldn’t care?”
“No, he wants you taken care of. I want to take care of you.”
“I was getting sad you were about to leave. It’s been nice having you here, and you’re so easy to talk to.”
“Who said I was leaving? I need to find the television so we can watch a movie.” This time, I turn my head and kiss the palm of his hand. I hear him inhale a deep breath, his broad chest widening.
“You have to light a fire too. Well, I think it’s electric, but you have to find the button.”
“It’s on the pad.” He tucks a piece of my hair behind my ear before his hand falls away. The slightest touch from him stokes a reaction from my body. I want to grab his hand back, but I’m not that bold, and it’s probably not allowed.
I’m to present as being married, but Charlie knows it’s not real, and no one else is here. Would it be terrible if—I cut my thoughts off. I don’t want to put Charlie in a bad spot. I’m being selfish.
His hand wraps around my wrist, tugging me out of the kitchen and into the living room. I watch as he easily starts a fire on the fancy tablet, and then the pictures over it turn into a television screen.
“Okay, that was kinda cool,” I admit.
“I’ll see about having an automated voice system put in.”
“You don't have to do that.”
“Upgrades are great for resale, and it should be updated.”
With Charlie in the space, nothing is as cold anymore. The colors are warmer and brighter. Hell, the couch even appears more inviting.
“Do you know how to use the tablet for the office or bedroom?”
“Oh, I only use it to open and close the blind thingies in the bedroom, and I don't use any other rooms. My little laptop and I don't need a whole office.”
“You don’t want to use the corner fireplace in there?”
“That might be nice.” Charlie motions for me to lead the way, following me into the bedroom. He shows me a few more tricks on the pad. “Thanks.”
“Don’t thank me. I should have made sure you knew how everything worked.” I shrug.
“It’s not a big deal.” Charlie glances past my shoulder, and I turn to follow his line of sight into the closet.
“All of your things are still in boxes.” A flash of disappointment crosses his face momentarily. He walks past me and inside. “I’ll help you unpack, and then we’ll watch a movie.”
“Okay,” I find myself agreeing, the rest of the year no longer looking drab, not with Charlie around.