36. Charlie
THIRTY-SIX
CHARLIE
Abigail flapped around me like a worried hen. My body ached from sleeping on the porch swing all night, and I waved her off as she asked me for the thousandth time if I was okay. I locked myself in the bathroom and stood under the spray of water for so long my skin turned red and raw, then put on the sweatpants and soft T-shirt Abigail had left out for me.
I emerged from the steamy bathroom and found my friend gnawing on her thumbnail in the hallway.
“Why didn’t you break in?” she demanded.
“To your house?”
“Yes, to my house! You could have frozen to death.”
I gave her a flat look. “Unlikely, it was sixty-five degrees outside. So where were you?”
Her eyes slid to the side. “I…got in a little trouble. But it’s nothing,” she hurried to add, grabbing my wrist to tow me to the kitchen.
She’d shown up at her house wearing her disgusting, soiled gown. I’d get the story out of her eventually—including why it was Rex Montgomery who had driven her home in his Silverado. Now, she was freshly showered, wearing athletic shorts and a tank top, but still had deep purple smudges under her eyes. It was like she’d spent the night in a difficult position. That made two of us.
Abigail wasn’t much of a cook, but she banged around, making coffee and toast for us and throwing concerned glances my way every few seconds. “You’re sure you’re okay?”
I blinked and met her gaze. “No. I feel pretty numb.”
“Even after a hot shower?
“On the inside,” I added, huffing.
“Oh. Right.” She set a plate with a golden-brown piece of toast slathered in butter in front of me, then grabbed two mugs and filled them with strong coffee. “Well. Maybe if we tell everyone about the Sinclair deal, we can stop the approval from the council. It’s not official yet, is it?”
I poured a dollop of milk into my coffee and watched its cloud dance and shift. “I could probably do that, but I’m not sure I want to.”
“What do you mean?”
I lifted my gaze to hers, a sad smile tugging at one corner of my lips. “That old theater is on its last legs, Abigail. The whole town is. We need change.”
“But—Sinclair!”
“Who else has enough money to turn this place around?”
Abigail frowned at me, then reached over and pressed her palm to my forehead. “I think you need to see a doctor.”
Brushing her off, I managed another snort that might pass as half a laugh. “I’m serious.”
“And the house?”
A lance of sharp pain speared through my chest. “The house…” I sighed. “I don’t think there’s anything I can do about the house. Maybe it’s time for me to let it go.”
Abigail scowled at her coffee. All I could think about was how to move out of my home and make sure I never had to see—or speak to—Sebastian Anderson ever again.
A week later, I sat on Abigail’s porch swing and watched the sun go down.
My insides hadn’t stopped aching since the night of the gala. I felt all twisted up. Between knowing that my home would soon be nothing but rubble and the depth of his lies, I felt like I couldn’t breathe. And I hated him for that. I hated him with every fiber of my being. But more than that, I hated that I let myself fall for him.
So it was a huge relief that he didn’t show up while I was moving my things out of the apartment. Out of my home. I had to pack up like a mad woman, and I was pretty sure a few dishes died in the process. Now all of my belongings were sitting in a storage unit. Everything except most of my closet, a few choice throw pillows, my computer, and the remaining two boxes of my favorite peach-flavored sparkling water.
I’d dug up the crumpled yellow demolition notice and sent an email to the listed address confirming that I’d moved out. The employee who answered me must’ve worked for Sebastian. They were professional and efficient, and they confirmed they’d send me the promised money in exchange for moving out early. It felt dirty and wrong to take money from him. But I’d given up. All the fight had gone out of me, and now all I could do was wallow.
For now, I was staying at Abigail’s. And I hated to admit it, but it had been nice enjoying her central air, long hot showers, and insulated roof. Plus I never had to worry if the floor would collapse beneath my feet. I would’ve loved to have added those amenities to Radcliffe House Apartments, but I guessed that was just a dream that was never meant to be.
“You still thinking about him?” Abigail asked, sitting next to me on the swing.
My attention shifted back to her. “Thinking about murdering him,” I said, but it wasn’t true.
“That’s the spirit.” She clinked her soda can against mine and took a slurp. “I’ll never understand these guys. First they make you want to scream that you love them from the rooftops, then they make you want to bury them six feet under.”
It had been three years since her divorce, and she was still picking up the pieces. “Well, at least you got the house out of it.”
Abigail frowned. “I’m sorry, Charlie.”
“Yeah, me too. I’m really going to miss it.” We sat there in the silence of my grief, which was compounded by the fact that I had no Plan B. I hadn’t seen the fall coming. I’d been so sure Anderson was going to sell me the old house. A fair and square deal. Now, I was approved to buy something, something just for me. But the idea of owning a home that didn’t light me up the way that house did felt so wrong.
“I can’t believe I’m homeless again,” I said.
“You’re not homeless. You’re here with me. It’s been kind of nice having another body in the house.”
“You mean besides the ex-husband’s you’ve been hiding under the floorboards?”
“Oh I got rid of him. He stank up the place something awful,” she replied with a laugh. “But seriously, I fought so long and hard to get this house. I poured my heart and soul into making it perfect for him and me. For our life together. And he tore that away.”
I thought back to the bitter days of her divorce, and how she never negotiated on the one thing she wanted—her home. Had I given up too quickly on mine?
She continued, “And now, I resent it.”
Shocked, I turned to face her. “You do? Why?”
“Because it reminds me every day how lonely I really am. Having a big house is only a dream if you have someone to share it with.”
I couldn’t imagine ever feeling that way about Radcliffe House. But at the same time, how would I know? There was always someone around. I thought back to Albert climbing the ladder and smiling at me in the window. The way my dad laughed when I jumped out from under the stairs to surprise him. And how I’d watch my mother bake my favorite lemon bars for Hooker’s Paradise, and how the light from the stained glass made the kitchen feel dreamy.
Maybe it wasn’t the house I was holding on to. It was the people in it.
Then I thought about him , and the way he kissed me in my bed in the morning. The way his smiles had turned tender whenever he looked at me. How he goaded and prodded me, then lit up when he got a reaction. How he’d accepted all the parts of me: the stubborn, the snippy, the determined. I hadn’t needed to try to be anyone but myself with him.
I shook the thoughts away. None of it had been real.
I took in a big breath. “I have an idea,” I said, and my friend looked up with a curious expression. “Why don’t I move in here with you? We can swear off men forever and double our shoe collection. What do you think?”
Abigail gave me a warm smile. “You can stay here as long as you want, but eventually we’ll both be ready for something more.”
Something more? That was the last thing I expected her to say. “We’ll be ready or you are ready?” I asked.
She shrugged. “Both.”
“What are you not telling me? Did you meet someone?”
“No,” she said. “I just think it would be nice to be with someone who really loves me. You know, someone who forgives my antics and knows my heart’s in the right place.”
Her words sank in. I wasn’t there yet. Not even close. But maybe with a new start eventually I could be. As long as I did a thorough background check, interviewed exes, and met the parents. You could learn a lot about someone by spending time with their family. Had I done all that with Sebastian, it would’ve saved me the heartache.
A text chimed on my phone.
MINNIE
I just got word. That bastard moved up the demo date. Radcliffe House Apartments is going down tomorrow.
My fingers went stiff, and I nearly dropped my phone. I never should have sent that email. Never should have given up.
“What is it?” Abigail asked.
I looked into her supportive brown eyes, and her face began to blur through the puddling tears in my own. “It’s over. It’s all over.”