Chapter 20 Charlie
charlie
Austin hauled his bags inside, his face still flushed from the laughter and the food we’d all shared. We’d eaten so much I felt like I was going to burst.
“So,” he said, a playful grin on his face, “are you gonna tell me which room in this giant house is mine, or do I get to choose?”
I laughed, shrugging as I started toward the staircase. “You can choose.”
He followed me up the steps, glancing around at the hallway lined with doors. “Alright, then,” he said, pointing toward the far end, as distant from my room as possible. “I’m taking that one.”
“Cool,” I replied, trying to sound casual, but deep down, I felt a small pang of disappointment. Part of me had hoped he’d choose the room next to mine.
He dropped his bags, and I noticed there weren’t many—just a couple of duffels filled with work clothes and his hockey gear. “My stuff’s being delivered next week from my apartment, so for now, this is all I’ve got.”
I nodded, trying to push aside the disappointment. “Make yourself at home.”
He smiled, his eyes meeting mine, and for a moment, I thought something flickered in them. “Thanks, roomie.”
“The bathroom is in the hall, but I have my own in the primary.”
“Great. I’ll pay rent on the first?”
I nodded.
Austin had insisted on paying rent, even though I’d told him the house was already paid off.
He said I could use it to cover maintenance or any other costs, and I hadn’t felt like arguing during the ride here, so I’d agreed.
It felt practical, but somehow the gesture also felt distant—like he was determined to keep things strictly business, which hurt after his vows and the kiss earlier.
“Okay, well . . . I’m going to shower and head to bed, then . . .”
I wasn’t sure what I wanted, but a hollow feeling settled in my chest. This was technically my wedding night, and yet, the reality of it felt so far from anything romantic.
“Same. I’m exhausted.”
“Oh . . . yeah.”
He headed off to the bathroom, and I stood there for a moment, listening to his footsteps echo down the hall. As I walked toward my own room, the loneliness was louder than I’d expected.
“If you need anything, I’ll be in here.”
Stupid. What a fucking stupid thing to say.
I ran inside my room, shut the door behind me, and dropped to the floor. This was going to be so fucking awkward for the next however long it would be until we figured all this shit out.
I leaned against the wall and closed my eyes, trying to push away the ache settling in my chest. Shifting, I pulled my phone from my pocket and typed out a quick thank-you to Jennie for derailing her Saturday plans to stand up in my wedding for me. I hit send and stared at the screen.
Even though Austin was just down the hall, it felt like there were miles between us. I pushed off the wall and stood up, deciding that maybe a bath would help. A bath would fix everything—or at least, I hoped it would.
A bath did not fix anything. I sat in bed, staring at the ceiling until the clock read past midnight and it was the wee hours of the morning.
I hadn’t heard a sound since Austin’s door closed a few hours ago, so I figured he was probably fast asleep by now. If I went downstairs and made myself a cup of my sleepy-time tea, I’d have a better chance of calming my restless thoughts and actually getting some sleep.
I quietly slipped out of my room and made my way toward the kitchen. I tiptoed down the hallway, moonlight filtering in through the windows. As I reached the kitchen, I pushed open the door, only to scream as I saw a figure standing by the counter, their hood up, face obscured in shadows.
“Who the fuck are you?” I hollered and looked around to see if I could find the closest pointy object.
The figure spun around, and I caught my breath when I realized it was Austin.
He pulled down the hood, revealing his sweaty face. “It’s me,” he said, a faint smile tugging at his lips.
“Did you just get back? I didn’t hear the door open or close.”
“Yeah. I used the back door and went to the beach,” he replied, casually wiping the sweat from his forehead.
“At this hour?” I blurted, a mix of surprise and worry in my voice.
He laughed softly. “Yeah, don’t worry. I didn’t have to rescue anyone naked in the water this time.”
I laughed along with him, but a pang of jealousy twisted in my chest. What if he’d gone with someone? Another girl? I guess this is what I meant when I told him to keep his side conquests discreet. I was going to have to live with that.
He gestured to the kettle on the stove, already heating up. “Is this what you came down for?”
I blinked, surprised. “How did you know?”
“My mom is the same way. She makes tea when she can’t sleep. My second guess was a midnight snack.”
“Like chocolate pecan cookies,” I practically moaned. I could taste the salty and sweet combination in my mouth and needed them desperately.
“You know how to bake?”
“Do I know how to bake?” I scoffed. “I’m an expert.”
“Let’s bake them then. Show me how it’s done . . . wifey.”
He laughed and walked over toward me, giving my hand a squeeze.
I needed a distraction. Fast.
I grabbed the ingredients from the pantry and set them on the kitchen island. I started by setting up the mixer and measuring the sugar.
”Your tea,” Austin said, handing me a warm mug.
I gave a quick nod, setting it aside on the counter as I kept moving through the motions. Butter next. I liked the methodical nature of baking; if you followed the recipe to a T, the results were predictable. No surprises.
“Why are you up?” he asked, but I focused on the mixer, unsure how to respond.
“Can you soften this in the microwave for thirty seconds?” I handed him a mug with a stick of butter inside, choosing to sidestep his question.
The corner of his mouth lifted into a smirk. “Sure can, Chef.”
I shook my head and focused on the mixer in front of me. “Why are you up?” I shot back at him. “And running around the lake at the ass crack of dawn.”
He laughed and handed me the mug with now softened butter. “I didn’t realize dawn had an ass crack.”
I grabbed the towel and smacked him with it as he held up his hands. “I’m innocent.”
He came around the island so he was standing next to me. Just as I turned around to grab the vanilla, he snaked his hands around my waist and leaned down. “I was thinking about you, Mrs. Honey.”
His mouth was right against my ear, and his warmth wrapped around me. My traitorous body melted into him.
“Truth or lie?” he murmured in my ear. I turned so I was facing him. His eyes were dark and hooded.
“W-What?”
All of this was so confusing because we were supposed to be roommates. It would be far less complicated that way.
“Do you want the truth or do you want me to lie?”
“The truth. Always,” I replied without hesitation.
The truth, no matter how raw or unsettling, was always better than a pretty lie.
His eyes darkened. “I stroked myself in the shower, thinking of you, but it wasn’t enough. When I tried to sleep, all I could hear was that little sound you made when I kissed you today. So I fucked my hand again, but it didn’t help—because somehow, you’ve embedded yourself in my mind.”
I swallowed hard, closing my eyes. His breath was so close, his hands grazed my skin, igniting it immediately.
“I, uh, well, I’m glad the fresh cold air helped then.”
That was silly. Why did I say that? No, what I really wanted to say was that I couldn’t stop thinking about him. I, too, couldn’t sleep because all that was on my mind was the way he consumed the space in my house.
He frowned as I pressed a bag of pecans and a rolling pin against his chest. “Could you crush these for me?”
“Sure,” he replied, shaking his head slightly as he moved to the other side of the island, laying the pecans out and beginning to roll the pin over them.
“I . . .”
“Yeah?”
“I thought we agreed to be roommates. Getting . . . physical would definitely blur that line.”
He nodded, eyes focused on the task as he continued to smash the pecans.
I turned to the mixer, adding baking powder, salt, vanilla, and flour before flicking it on, trying to keep my focus on the recipe.
“It would blur the line,” Austin murmured, pausing his movements. “But what if I told you I had an idea?”
I switched off the mixer and met his gaze. “Then I’d say I’m open to hearing it.”
He set down the rolling pin and walked over to me, opening the bag of crushed pecans and dumping them into the bowl.
He grabbed the bag of chocolate chips, reaching across me to pour them in, and suddenly, I was pinned between his body and the granite, my chest smashed against his.
I expected him to pull back, but instead, he leaned down, his breath warm against my ear.
“I think I have a way to fix the problem we’re having.”
My pulse quickened. “What problem?”
“The one where I want so badly to worship every step you take . . . if you’d let me.”
I tried to laugh, but it came out rougher than I intended, betraying the effect he had on me.
“We’re married. We aren’t seeing anyone else.”
“Mhmm.” It was all I could muster as he turned on the mixer, and I watched as the dough came together.
“We’re two adults with needs,” Austin murmured. “I can keep things separate—physical and emotional. Friends . . . with benefits.”
“Friends with benefits?”
The idea was foreign, thrilling; I’d never had a one-night stand, never crossed that line.
“There has to be something like this on your list. Tell me.”
I closed my eyes, feeling the warmth of him so close. The sixth list item flashed in my mind. “I wanted to have a one-night stand with someone,” I whispered.
“Well, Mrs. Honey,” he purred, fingers tracing my jaw, “it might not be just one night, but I promise—I can keep the physical separate from the emotional.”
“You swear?” I whispered, almost pleading. “It can’t get messy. It’s already starting to—”