Chapter 16 Charlie
charlie
Admittedly, I had only woken up a few hours ago after a restless night, unable to fall asleep. My mind kept spinning, wondering if Austin was thinking about me too, and what he might’ve meant about that darn question at the end of our date. It just wasn’t sitting well with me.
I grabbed my mug and sat at my desk. I’d opened the window, letting the summer breeze waft into the house. I could hear kids playing out on the beachfront area and was doing my best to relax and be present.
Intentionally, I’d turned off my phone, not wanting to be bothered by my mother or Jacob today, the latter of whom would no doubt want to know how my date went.
Instead, I opted to do some lesson planning and then intended to spend the rest of the day watching the crew of bougie yachts hook up with each other.
I opened my laptop, and my email notification chimed twice. Curious, I checked my school email, assuming it was about some event the school had planned for the weekend.
I opened the email, squinting at the unfamiliar sender. I hesitated for a second before clicking it open, and as I read the message, I burst out laughing, realizing exactly who it was from.
Subject: Taking a Shot in the Dark
Ms. Honey,
I’m hoping I guessed your email right because I had no other way to reach you. I figured if Evie’s teacher’s email was based on her name, yours might be too . . . So, if you’re reading this and it’s you (and not some random teacher wondering who the hell I am)—hi.
I had an amazing time last night, and I’d love to see you again today if you’re up for it. Since email isn’t exactly the fastest way to communicate, here’s my number.
Looking forward to hearing from you.
888-768-8899
XX
Austin
A grin stretched across my face. My heart pounded with excitement—like the kind I hadn’t felt in years. I couldn’t believe he’d gone through the trouble of guessing my email to reach out. It felt . . . sweet. Real. Like I was important enough to find.
I pulled out my phone and quickly typed in his number under the new messages tab.
I hesitated, my thumb hovering over the screen.
Was it too early to text him back? The email had come in only twenty minutes ago.
Wasn’t there some kind of unspoken rule about waiting?
I glanced up at the clock on the wall. It was already midafternoon.
Would I seem too eager if I responded right away?
I bit my lip, debating with myself, and then let out a sigh. “Fuck it,” I said, tossing aside my hesitation.
I tapped out a message, my heart racing as I tried to sound casual yet open.
Me: Hey, Austin. You guessed right—I got your email. What’re your big plans for the day?
Did that sound desperate? I was overanalyzing the entire message.
I turned, looking at the large mirror propped up against the wall, and walked over to it. My house was littered with mirrors. It was a thing.
When I was younger, I was always expected to maintain a certain image.
My mother would often criticize my appearance, making me stand in front of the mirror and list everything I could have worn better, done differently, or improved upon.
It became such an ingrained habit that I now felt the need to constantly check my reflection, analyzing my appearance, my outfit, and my actions over and over.
I scanned my reflection, and the familiar habit kicked in.
My eyes drifted to the snug fit of my yoga leggings, wondering if they were too tight, if they showed too much.
I traced the line of my hips, mentally critiquing how they flared out and how I should probably wear something looser.
I moved up to my top, a simple fitted T-shirt, and frowned.
Maybe it clung too much, maybe it was too plain.
I tugged at the hem, trying to smooth it out, though I knew it wouldn’t make a difference.
I looked at my face next, noting the dark circles under my eyes that my concealer couldn’t fully hide.
My hair, usually pulled back neatly, had a few strands escaping, and I debated whether I should redo it, make it look more polished.
My fingers automatically went to my skin, feeling for any blemishes or imperfections.
All the things I’d heard from my mother echoed in my mind—how to stand straighter, smile brighter, wear colors that suited me better. It was like she was there, whispering her criticisms, and I couldn’t help but run through them, one by one.
The only thing that pulled me from my thoughts was the familiar beep of my phone. I walked away from the mirror and grabbed it.
Austin: I’m over by the lake, figuring you lived nearby, so how about now?
Now? Right now?
I can’t go now.
Oh, shit. I could definitely go. Nothing was stopping me. It’s not like I had some big grand plan in place before all this.
I sprinted up the stairs and headed straight for my bedroom.
The space was my little haven, all whites and soft pink accents, with everything oversized and carrying that old-world charm I’d always loved.
No time to focus on any of that, though.
I threw open the drawers, hands fumbling as I grabbed a pair of jeans—the ones that always fit right—and a pink linen button-down.
I didn’t even think twice about it. I needed something casual but put together.
I slipped on the jeans, buttoned the top, and grabbed a pair of sandals from the closet.
They were simple and easy—perfect for whatever was about to happen.
I barely glanced at myself in the mirror, just enough to pull my hair into a quick, loose ponytail and make sure I didn’t look like a total mess.
With my heart pounding and my thoughts racing, I grabbed my bag, locked the door behind me, and headed out, a mix of nerves and excitement thrumming through me.
I’m on my way.
It only took me a couple blocks to get to the lake, where Austin stood, facing the lake, his hands tucked into his pockets.
The breeze tousled his blonde curls, and his tall frame looked strong yet somehow vulnerable against the open sky.
There was something magnetic about him, the way he seemed both powerful and gentle, like he was a mix of strength and fragility wrapped into one.
He wore a simple white T-shirt that clung to his chest and arms, showing off the muscles underneath, and a pair of jeans that looked comfortably broken in. My heart pounded as I finally reached him, and for a moment, I watched the way he stared out at the water.
“Hey stranger,” I murmured, and he turned around, his big blue eyes trained on me.
He leaned in and gave me a . . . hug. Oh. He gave me a hug. I shouldn’t have expected a kiss, but after last night I thought . . .
That was stupid. I thought wrong. A hug was a perfectly acceptable form of greeting for two people who barely knew each other.
“I wanted to talk to you,” Austin said and gestured to the little black metal bench.
I followed him over to it, and we sat down.
This was awkward. “I gathered since your email—”
“I think we need to not see each other anymore,” he blurted out.
Are we breaking up? I cocked my head. Could you really break up with someone you never really officially dated?
Is this real fucking life?
“Oh. Well, this is the oddest fucking thing that’s happened to me in a while,” I admitted as I crossed my arms over my chest.
Austin nodded a few times. “But I think we should also move in with each other.”
There must be a camera somewhere. There had to be a hidden camera because otherwise this conversation, which currently wasn’t making any sense, would then make complete logical sense.
I burst out laughing. “I’m not moving in with you,” I said, shaking my head. I had a beautiful house by the lake, one he’d never know about because it was too big, too flashy, and just too mine. “Also, did you just break up with me?”
He nodded as if I’d made a perfectly logical point. “Yeah, but there’s a catch.”
He reached out for my hand, but I pulled back. “You better start explaining, Austin, because I’m this close to walking away.”
“Right, right.” He fidgeted with his hands, and for a moment, I almost felt bad for putting him on the spot.
I could tell he was struggling to find the right words.
“Okay, remember yesterday when you mentioned you’d eventually have to go back to Georgia, face your mom, and marry whoever she arranged for you to keep up appearances? ”
“Yeah,” I said, narrowing my eyes as I tried to piece it all together. “That’s right, but I don’t see what that has to do with this.”
He grinned, his eyes bright. “Stick with me.”
“Alright, I’m listening.”
“Great,” he mumbled. “So, you don’t want that to happen, right?”
“You mean have my mother marry me off so I can live some dream that isn’t mine and have to fuck someone when I’d rather choke on chicken than imagine them naked?”
Austin paused as if digesting my words and then burst into laughter. “I wouldn’t want you to choke on chicken.”
“Me either,” I said very seriously and pursed my lips. I couldn’t help the smirk that followed.
“I have a proposition, then.”
“Let’s hear it.”
“I’ll marry you.”
L. Oh. L.
There was no fucking way I heard him correctly . . . Was there? He just asked me to marry him?
“No.” I stood up, feeling my patience slip away.
“I had a great time with you, and it was fun getting to know you. I thought I was out of my mind for letting a guy grab me while I was swimming . . . in my birthday suit.” I leaned in, my voice dropping.
“This? This is starting to get borderline stalker, and I’m not into that. ”
I could already imagine the girls at school having a field day with the story.
Wait—wasn’t this exactly what he did with his ex-wife? Married her fast and then divorced her?
“Are you sober?” I narrowed my eyes at him.
“What? Seriously?” He threw his hands up, looking exasperated. “Yes. I’m sober.”
“Good. Then this conversation is over. Have a nice life.” I spun on my heel to walk away, but before I could take more than a step, Austin grabbed my waist, pulling me with enough force that I was facing him again.
“Please let me explain.”
“No.” I shook my head. “I don’t need to—”
“I need medicine. I need to marry you because I need my medicine, and I need someone with health insurance to help me get it. I can’t afford it out of pocket, so I wanted to ask if you wanted to marry me and we could be roommates.
I’d help you out so that you can stay here long-term, and then as soon as I figure out a better solution for my insurance issue, we could get divorced.
” He spilled the words out as quickly as he could.
He wanted to get married for . . . benefits? That was a thing? No? That was the reason insurance companies sometimes sent out brokers to newly married couples.
“We’d have to move in together,” I said as if somehow my brain was actually trying to rationalize this idea as a good one.
“We would. It’d be easier not to get caught that way.”
“I own my house.” I stomped my foot down for effect, but again, why was I contemplating this? “Wait. This is dumb. I’m not doing this.”
I pulled away from Austin’s grip and continued to walk away from him. I wasn’t about to find myself married. I spun on my heel to face him, and almost ran right into his thick, broad chest. My hands went up on instinct to brace myself.
“Yes?”
I looked up at the smug look on Austin’s face. I wanted to swipe it off with my mouth . . . No. Fuck. Not my mouth. I wanted to erase it with my hands.
I think.
“I think this seems similar to what you told me happened with your ex-wife.”
“No. I wanted to marry her because I thought I was in love.”
“Ouch,” I bit back.
“No. No. Not like that.” He sighed. “This would be a very mutually agreed-upon arrangement between two consenting and sober adults.”
I blinked at him, turning the words over in my head. Marriage. With Austin. Not for love, but as some kind of . . . arrangement. My brain scrambled to line it up with the rules I’d been living by since I got here.
It would get both Jacob and my mom off my case about wanting to go back to Georgia. He had a valid point, but to go to an extreme like getting married? Everything in my life had been planned meticulously. This wouldn’t have fallen into anyone’s plan.
“Getting married wouldn’t happen to be on your bucket list, would it?” Austin said with a smirk.
I shook my head and huffed out a small laugh. “No. It isn’t.”
I turned and kept walking, Austin matching my stride to keep up with me. “This is an absurd idea. You have to know it.”
“Oh. It’s the weirdest.”
“But at least I understand why you asked me about health insurance after we kissed yesterday.”
“Which brings me to my initial point,” Austin said, keeping pace with me as I walked toward my house.
I still wasn’t sure if I was on board with this plan, but one thing was certain—if I agreed, he’d have to move in with me. There was no way I was giving up my new place.
“And that is?” I asked.
“We can’t date each other anymore. We’ll just be roommates—nothing more.”
That, I could get behind. If we were going to fake a marriage, mixing in real feelings would only complicate things when it inevitably ended.
“I agree,” I said.
He let out a long sigh, clearly relieved.
I mulled it over in my head. Was I really considering this?
Marrying Austin would definitely get my mom off my back.
Jacob would be absolutely livid. This was wild—so out of character for me.
This wasn’t normal, was it? I was always structured, always planning.
Everything in my life had a place and a timeline.
I had lesson plans, life plans I didn’t necessarily want, and a path back home that involved getting married the way my mom wanted.
This was everything I shouldn’t be doing.
This was everything I shouldn’t be doing.
My bucket list was my attempt to break free from the rigid control my mom had always had over my life, to try new things and release the reins a little. I’d promised myself I’d follow the list.
I glanced over at Austin, his face a mixture of nerves as we kept walking, and I realized something: For the first time, I felt excited about not knowing exactly what would happen next.
I broke the silence. “If I do this, I have one condition.”
“Name it,” he quickly responded.
We stopped in front of my house, and I held out my hand. “You’re moving in with me.”
Austin looked up, and his mouth dropped open. “Oh shit, Ms. Honey. You live here?” He walked up to the fence, pushing open the wooden gate.
“Well, I guess we live here?”