41. Charlie
FORTY-ONE
CHARLIE
I hunkered down at Abigail’s for the next two weeks, even worked remotely from her guest bed. She hovered, of course, and Sophie stopped by nearly every night with leftover baked goods from the Magnolia Café. They watched me with worry-filled eyes and spoke to me in careful tones, like I was some half-feral animal that needed gentle handling.
I wallowed. There was no other word for it. After I’d emptied myself of grief at my parents’ graves, I’d come back to Abigail’s and lain hollow and aching on her guest bed. And then I’d work to take my mind off things. To ignore the fresh wound that Sebastian had inflicted by destroying my home.
I could buy another house. I would, eventually. But I didn’t know if I could heal from this. The woven memories in that place had been torn as easily as a dusty cobweb, and I wasn’t sure what was left now that it was gone. The warp and weft of my very soul had been damaged. I wasn’t sure if I even belonged in New Elwood anymore, because I’d been uprooted and tossed aside.
I couldn’t even walk through town, because everything led back to the house. All the routes I’d gotten used to walking and driving were etched into my brain, so much so that walking to and from Abigail’s house felt foreign and wrong.
That house had been part of me. Part of my history the way the Monticello had been part of New Elwood. I’d lost something more than a home, and I wasn’t sure how to cope.
I needed therapy, probably. Definitely.
A knock on the door tore my gaze away from my laptop screen. Abigail stood in the opening, watching me with the frown that had become permanently etched on her brow. “Can I come in?”
I glanced at the permit application on my screen, then let out a sigh and closed the laptop’s lid. “Sure.”
She perched herself on the edge of the bed and gave me a smile that looked false. “How are you doing?”
“I’m fine,” I lied. “It’s easy to be productive here. No distractions.”
“Okay,” she said. “You want to go out for dinner? Sophie and I were thinking pizza.”
“No. You go on without me. I’ll rustle something up here.”
Abigail nodded, then seemed to gather herself. She met my gaze, her brown irises soft with love. “I want to talk to you about the house.”
I flinched and tried to hide it by scratching behind my ear. “Have I been leaving dishes in the sink?”
“Not my house,” she said. “Yours.”
My chest tightened at her words. “I don’t have a house. It’s gone, remember?”
Her lips curled in a half smile. “But what if it wasn’t?”
Everything inside me went still. “What are you talking about?”
“Radcliffe House. It’s still standing. I mean, the sign is down and it’s got all that scaffolding around it, but it’s there.”
“How?” I asked, hardly able to take in any air.
“I don’t know, but the rumor is the demo’s been called off.”
“What?”
“Yeah, some drama the morning the demolition was supposed to begin,” she started. Every time she said the word “demo” or “demolition,” I felt a sharp pain in my chest. “No one is a hundred percent sure what happened, but Mary from the bookstore swore she saw Sinclair driving down Main Street with a black eye.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, and the demolition guys took their machine away a few days ago. So something happened, but no one really knows what. I heard Anderson’s been staying at a hotel, but he hasn’t told anyone anything about what’s going on.”
“I…” My lungs were made of lead. That was the only explanation for why it was so hard to pull in a breath. “When did you find all this out?”
“About a week ago. I’ve been keeping an eye on things,” Abigail admitted. “But I didn’t want to tell you anything and get your hopes up in case…”
“So why tell me now?”
“Well, Vinnie Sanders came into the Magnolia Café this morning, and Sophie overheard him talking on the phone about the demolition contractor throwing a fit. And he said Anderson would pay him for his time, but he doubted the contractor would ever do business with him again. Obviously she only heard one side of the conversation, but she said it sounded like the demo was off. Like, completely.”
My hands had gone cold. I tried to move my fingers, but they reacted slowly, like I’d been caught in a snowstorm and was minutes away from hypothermia. A weight pressed down on my chest, to the point that I worried my chair would collapse out from under me.
“I need to get over there.” I stood so fast I needed to lean on the desk until creeping blackness cleared from my vision.
“Want me to come? Me and Sophie? Moral support?”
“No.” I shook my head, sending my hair trembling against my shoulders. If I fell apart at the sight of Radcliffe House, I wanted to do it alone.
“Okay,” Abigail said quietly as she stood. “Sophie and I will pick up pizza and come back here just in case. Call us if you need anything, Charlie. Anything. I mean it.”
She hugged me, and a small piece of my heart knitted itself back together. My friendship with Abigail and Sophie was like one tiny root that had survived the violent storm I’d just endured. Wrapping my arms around one of my two best friends, I reminded myself that I still belonged here, no matter what had happened to the house I’d once called home.
My palms were clammy as I started my car. I had to blink to clear my vision as I prepared to drive, taking long, slow breaths to calm myself. Nothing was certain. The rumors were just rumors. Maybe there’d been a problem on site, and this was just some hiccup. There were other demolition contractors in Virginia. Sebastian most likely hadn’t changed his mind. The house might still have been on death row. I needed to be prepared for that.
Despite my best intentions, hope burrowed deep into my heart and made a home there. Shallow breaths panted in and out of me as I drove across town, down those familiar streets that would lead me home.
The sun was setting when I arrived. It painted the sky in a wash of pastels and caused the neat rows of the vineyard beyond the house to glow under warm gold light. If I’d still lived in the house, I would have sat in the bathtub, rested my head on its rolled edge, and watched the light fade over the vines until my skin puckered.
But I didn’t live there. I had to remind myself of it. I lived nowhere—not until I found somewhere new.
Still, as I parked Ted on the street and looked at the scaffold and shade cloth obscuring my view of the Second Empire beauty, my throat tightened. It was still there, behind its funeral shroud.
And Sebastian’s car was here too.
With an erratic pulse, I climbed out of my car and stood on the sidewalk, tracing what I could see of the house with my gaze. It didn’t mean he’d changed his mind. Every inch of territory I allowed this silly hope to gain would only hurt that much more when it proved to be false.
And yet. And yet.
My footsteps were hesitant as I made my way up the same path that I’d tread on thousands of times. A patch of dirt marred the grass where the Radcliffe House Apartments sign used to stand, and I tried not to let my mind spin out about what that meant, the fact that he’d removed it.
The front door was unlocked. Its hinges creaked as I pushed it open, and I stood in the lobby of the grand old home, a heavy weight sloughing off my shoulders. He hadn’t torn it down. He hadn’t destroyed this tired old gem, this precious, neglected jewel on the outskirts of New Elwood.
I couldn’t help entering with trepidation. Was this some sort of trick, a lie, a ruse? More deception to break my already broken heart?
The thought stiffened my muscles and made a ripple of tension pass through my body. Swallowing thickly, I stepped forward. The floorboards creaked and groaned under my weight, and I paused to listen to the sounds of the house.
A tap turned on, then off. My gaze lifted to Sebastian’s door.
I could run away. I could turn around, get back in my car, go back to the guest room in Abigail’s house, and I could leave whatever horrible truth he’d tell me for another time when I was stronger and braver and ready.
But the house let out another soft groan, and I found myself touching the wrinkled, stained wallpaper that lined the hallway like I could ease the building’s pain.
And I walked on.
My knuckles made a hollow noise as they rapped on his door. Time became sticky and slow, then, as I waited for him to answer. My palms were clammy and fine tremors shook through my legs and arms and stomach.
The door opened.
His eyes widened but his face was weathered with exhaustion, hair sticking up at odd angles, jaw covered in scruff. His T-shirt collar was stretched out, his jeans were stained above the knee, and his feet were bare.
“Charlie,” he breathed. My name sounded like a prayer from his lips.
“Hello, Sebastian.”
His eyes roamed over my face like he wanted to memorize me. “What are you doing here?”
“Abigail told me the house was still standing. I wanted to see it for myself.”
His fingers twitched like he wanted to reach for me, but he just dipped his chin in a jerky movement and stepped back. I entered his apartment and followed him to the kitchen. Papers were strewn over the table where he’d saved me from splinterdom, along with an opened can of the peach fizzy water I liked.
I picked it up. Mostly empty. “I thought you hated this stuff.”
“It’s growing on me,” he said as he gathered the papers and darted quick glances in my direction.
We faced each other.
Now that I was here, I felt stronger. He wasn’t a monster; he was only a man. And really, he looked terrible. That made me feel a little better.
I straightened. “So?” I asked. “I heard Sinclair had a black eye. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”
That wasn’t what I’d meant to ask, but as soon as it came out, redness flushed over Sebastian’s cheeks, and his gaze slid to the side.
“Maybe,” he admitted.
“Maybe?”
“Okay, yes. He was being an asshole.”
“Breaking news: Theo Sinclair is an asshole,” I deadpanned.
He huffed, stealing another glance at me. His fingers drummed on the table, and then he seemed to brace himself. “You have every right to hate me. You should hate me for how I acted, Charlie. I never told you the whole truth, and I should have. That was wrong, and I’m sorry. I know an apology won’t make up for it, but I had to tell you that I know what I did was wrong. I’ll never deny that.”
Sincerity drenched his words, but I’d been fooled by him before. “Thank you,” I said, my guard solidly up.
“I thought my reasons were valid, but I know now they were misguided.”
“So what was it all about?”
“This business deal.” He waved a hand at the space, lips flattening in a grimace. “An old mentor of mine approached me with an offer to buy his company. It was my dream, but I didn’t have the money. The banks didn’t offer me enough collateral on my properties to fund the initial investment, so I had to find another way. Shortly thereafter, I got the news that I would be inheriting all of Lydia Radcliffe’s properties here in New Elwood, but I wasn’t the only one who knew about the inheritance.”
“You mean Theo Sinclair.”
“Yeah. He offered me more than market value as long as I got the Monticello hotel approvals and I finished the demolition here. It would’ve been enough to buy the company.”
“‘Would’ve been?’”
“Business deals tend to fall apart when you punch someone in the face.”
A laugh fell out of me despite myself. “Right. I’ll keep that in mind.”
He drank in my reaction with avid eyes, then swallowed and said, “I wanted to give the shares to my parents. To give them back what they lost. Especially for my mother.”
I thought of what he’d told me about his grandmother, and I finally understood the choice Sebastian had made. He’d chosen his family.
I probably would have done the same.
“I see,” I said softly.
Sebastian took a deep breath. Turned to his paperwork. Shuffled through it. “I know you’ll never forgive me, Charlie, and that’s not what I’m asking. But I did want to make amends. I think… I think I did to you exactly what Lydia did to us. And I couldn’t make that right for my mom, but I’d like to make it right with you.” He pulled a stack of paper out and handed it to me.
“Contract of sale,” I read, then jerked. “Wait, what?”
“I’ve written it so that I’m responsible for bringing the plumbing and electrics up to code, and the repairs to the back wall.”
“What repairs?” I arched an eyebrow.
Sebastian rubbed the back of his neck. “There was some, uh, damage when the demo guys were here.”
“That’s what happens when you play with demo toys,” I said.
“Yeah, I’m sorry about that too.” His gaze fell to the floor. “I’ve also started gathering some quotes from restoration specialists, but I don’t know if you wanted to handle that all yourself… After all, the house will be yours.”
Mine? The house would be mine? The ground was suddenly unsteady under my feet. I dragged in a harsh breath.
And then I saw the price.
My gaze snapped up to Sebastian’s. “You’re selling it to me for a dollar ?”
The look he gave me made everything inside me go warm and soft. “Yeah,” he said.
“But— why ?”
Sebastian’s lips parted. He let out a sigh, then spread his arms. “Because I’m in love with you, Charlie.”
“You’re what?” My voice was a bare whisper. I blinked at him, the light in the room seeming glittery and strange.
Sebastian reached for me, eyes desperate, and kneeled in front of me with a devoted smile that made my head spin. “I love you,” he repeated.
His hands moved to my knees as I sat there, stunned. I could feel the heat of his touch through my jeans, but I couldn’t move. “I love everything about you. I love that your middle name is Washington. I love that you give as good as you get. I love that you care about things like history and houses and principles and family. Really care about them, down to your core. I love that you’re loyal. I love you so much that when I realized I hurt you, it felt like I’d stabbed myself in the gut and tore myself to shreds.”
“So you’re selling me the house for a dollar because you love me?” I asked, breathless.
“And because I’m sorry. I can never make up for what I’ve done, and I’m not trying to win you over. I swear, Charlie, I just want to do this for you because it’s the right thing to do. I want you to have this house because it belongs to you. It always has. I just want to make sure no one can ever take that away from you again. Not even an idiot like me.” He began to pull his hands away with a small, sad curve on his lips.
The guard I’d so carefully erected as I walked in the door just—shattered. “You have been an idiot. A sorry, handsome, infuriating, wonderful idiot.” I grabbed fistfuls of his shirt, dragged him toward me, and kissed him with all my might. Our lips melted into one another, his hands cupped my cheeks, and my knees spread, allowing him to come closer. I wrapped my arms around his neck, and his kiss turned savage.
Then Sebastian pulled away. His hair was all over the place and his eyes were green, green, green and wild. “Does this mean you forgive me?”
I let out a strangled laugh and clawed at his shirt until he lifted his arms and let me take it off. “It means I love you too, Sebastian.”
His head popped out of the shirt’s collar, shock written on his features. “You do?”
I tossed the shirt aside, then pointed my index finger at him. “You hurt me. A lot. It was horrible.”
“I’m sorry,” he said, taking me into his arms.
“I know, but I still love you.” I ran my fingers over his stubbled cheek, staring at the flecks of amber in his eyes. “Maybe that makes me an idiot too, but I can’t help it. It’s been hell without you,” I admitted.
Because in my weeks of wallowing, I knew it wasn’t just the house I was missing. It was Sebastian’s cocky grin. It was the way he made me feel like anything was possible. The way he listened to me like all my ideas were valuable. The way he paid attention to me nerding out about historical features even though I knew he didn’t really care.
The way he kissed me and touched me like he’d never been given such a precious gift as the chance to simply be next to me.
His hands were warm as they dipped under the hem of my shirt to touch my waist. “So we have a deal?”
“Yes, as long as you promise to stay here with me,” I whispered, hands coasting over his shoulders, heart thudding against my ribs. “We can fix it up together. And it can be ours.”
Sebastian’s face split into a wide grin and he picked me up off the chair and cradled me against his chest. I yelped with all the happiness in the world. Somehow, all that was wrong was right again. Better even.
Circling my arms around his neck, I smiled like a loon and let him walk me to his bedroom. He set me down on the bed and kissed my neck, my shoulder, my jaw. His hand slid up to clasp my breast, and I let out a shuddering breath.
I was home. Not just in this house, but home with him.
Sighing, I opened my eyes. And froze.
Sebastian must have felt me stiffen, because he paused his ministrations and backed away enough to look at my face. “You okay?”
“What is that?”
Following my gaze to the far wall, Sebastian let out a little puff of breath. “Oh. Right. It’s a gift I commissioned from a stained glass artisan. For you. I figured the house should have more than one.”
Crawling off the bed, I walked over and picked up the small window as a lump grew in my throat. A kaleidoscope pattern of blue, gold, purple, and white stained glass in a regal picture of George Washington. It was the ribbon on top of an already amazing gift. Sebastian got me down to my very core.
“Do you…like it?” he asked.
Turning, I took in his uncertain, almost shy expression. I set the jeweled glass down where it had been as my heart crowded out my lungs. Then I straddled his lap and rested my forearms on his shoulders.
“I love it so much,” I told him, touching my nose to his. “Almost as much as I love you.”
His shoulders softened as he stroked my sides and leaned in to kiss me. Then we forgot about stained glass, old houses, and everything else for a while.