8. Troy
I’m still reeling from Charlie’s invitation for coffee as I sit at her breakfast bar. Since the welcome home party, she hasn’t left my mind, but never in a million years could I imagine myself actually inside her house. Not yet, at least.
My original plan has become a little more complicated. I came back to Cherryville to open my own restaurant. I’ve been here less than a week, and I already want so much more.
I’m also a realist. If I want to try and win Charlie back, I know I have to show her that I’m not the man who left. She needs to know that I can be all that I should have been when we were together the first time. She deserves my respect before I try and offer her anything else. This morning, taking her to her work was part of that. I just couldn’t have imagined the outcome.
I gaze around, noting the fact that her house is nearly the same as mine, only hers looks like someone actually lives in it. It looks like a home, not just a house. She has flowers, pictures, candles, and all of those little things that make all the difference. It has not escaped my notice that her creative flair is glaring at me from every corner of the room. Milly was right. From the little I’ve seen so far, Charlie really does know her stuff.
“Do you want decaf?” Charlie says as she flings open a cupboard.
“Who drinks decaf?” I snort derisively.
She pops her head around the cupboard door. “I do,” she replies plainly. She stares at me, challenging me to say another word about it.
Great start.
“Oh, right. Okay,” I say, flailing miserably to save myself.
“So?” she says.
“Well, you know, it’s fine. Everyone has their particular taste. I’m sure you—”
“Caffeinated then,” she says, completely interrupting my rambling and answering her own question
Heat rushes to my face, and I nod. It’s the weirdest sensation. I can’t remember the last time I felt embarrassed, but if I get any hotter, Charlie won’t need the coffee machine—I can just boil the water on my cheeks.
I watch her move around the kitchen. She’s talking away about her work. I’m listening and grunting in all the right places, but more than that, I’m watching. It’s the strangest thing. She looks different, as ten years have passed, but she still has all the same mannerisms. The same traits I always loved about her back then.
Well, almost.
“What happened to the glasses?” I ask, gesturing to my own face as she places my coffee on the counter. There is a mannerism missing—Charlie shoving her eyeglasses up her nose whenever she is nervous.
Charlie settles herself on the other side of the breakfast bar and blows on her hot coffee. I can’t help watching her mouth, but quickly catch myself and pull my eyes away. It’s a miracle I’m sitting in her kitchen; best not to push my luck.
“They didn’t suit the new me,” she says eventually.
Immediately, I know I’m in dangerous territory. I have a very strong feeling that the new Charlie arrived after I left. I also can’t help feeling that my leaving had something to do with this transformation.
“Contacts?” I say, trying to keep myself on thicker ice.
She nods. “Uh-huh.”
Since our past is off the table, I find myself at a loss as to where to go next. But then I figure it’s only our past—not everyone’s.
“How’s your Dad?” I say,
Charlie actually smiles. “He’s really good.” My frown makes her smile even wider. “Yeah, there are a few things that have changed around here.”
“I take it you guys get along far better than I remember. Your dad was pretty tough on you, especially after your mom died.” I take a sip of my coffee as I wait for her answer, remembering what a nasty drunk her father was.
“He hasn’t had a drink in five years,” Charlie says. There’s no pride in her voice, and I know why. After Charlie lost her mom, her dad slipped deeper into the bottle. He was a drinker before, but the loss of his wife pushed him over the edge, and he ended up losing his job when they caught him drinking on the job.
He and Charlie had to live on benefits after that—until Charlie got a job, that is. Then she had to pay half her wages toward the mortgage. It never sat well with me. A man should provide for his children, not the other way around.
“Things are better between us,” Charlie continues. “He’s apologized for a lot of the things he put me through. It doesn’t make it all better, but you know”—she shrugs—“there’s little else he can do now.”
“Does he still live in Cherryville?” I ask.
“Oh, yes. Dad would never move from that old house.”
I steel myself at those words, but I try to hide my expression. Charlie truly believes that, but I know better. In fact, Mr. Woods told me himself. Or rather, he threatened me himself.
My phone rings, and when I dig it out of my pocket, Milly’s name comes up. “Hey,” I say once I’ve answered.
“Where are you?” she says. “I’m at your door, but you’re not answering.”
Charlie can clearly hear every word, because she raises her eyebrows and gives me a look. It’s a look that says Milly is going to come to her own conclusions when she finds out where I am.
“I’m next door,” I say carefully.
“What?” Milly gasps in clear astonishment.
“He’s in my kitchen,” Charlie calls out, gathering the cups and taking them to the sink. “Just come over.”
A second later, the call ends.
When I look at Charlie, she’s trying not to smile.
“I’m sorry,” I say.
“What for?”
I shrug. “You know. Milly.”
Charlie is opening her mouth to reply when the front door bursts open. A second later, Milly calls out, “Are you both decent?” She laughs at her own joke as she continues into the kitchen. I, on the other hand, want to put my hands around my little sister’s neck.
“Hi, Milly,” Charlie sings condescendingly.
The women hug like they haven’t seen each other in months, and then Milly turns to me. “So, do tell.”
“Actually,” Charlie says, “Troy helped me out of a really tight spot. The darned car wouldn’t start—”
“Again?” Milly says sympathetically.
“Again,” Charlie confirms. “I had a new client to get to this morning, and your brother very kindly offered to drive me there and back.”
“Aww, isn’t he sweet?” Milly says, lacing her tone with sarcasm while giving me a knowing look.
It’s at this point that I stand. If I stay, I might not be responsible for my actions. Milly has already cut into a perfect, if unexpected, catchup. That annoys me, for starters. Now, I’m worried that her conclusions are going to spook Charlie. Whatever happens between us—if anything happens between us—has to go slow. I need to be patient, or I’ll risk losing the chance I squandered the first time.
You didn’t squander it. You would never have left if you weren’t forced.
I know that. But it’s something I can never tell Charlie. Not now. She and her dad are on far better terms. What right do I have to ruin that by bringing up a past that is long gone?
“Right, Milly. Let’s go.”
“Oh, but I just got here.”
At that same second, I catch a look from Charlie that completely knocks me off my feet. It’s a look I know well because I’ve seen it many times, particularly with regard to her father. I just can’t believe it’s what she’s feeling right now. Charlie Woods actually looks disappointed.
I could change my mind. I could relent and stay longer. If I had my way, I’d stay for as long as Charlie would have me. But I don’t want to push my luck. I can’t let one look of disappointment sway me. For all I know, she might be disappointed that Milly is leaving, and not me.
Oh, come on.
All right. I know it’s likely not the case. I could read this woman like a book ten years ago. That hasn’t changed; she still wears her heart on her sleeve. But I need to handle the situation delicately, like a souffle.
“Milly,” I say again, giving her a determined look.
“All right. All right.”
The women hug once again. I wish it was my body that Charlie’s arms were wrapped around, but I shake that thought from my mind.
“Thank you again, Troy. You saved my life today,” Charlie says.
“Well, not quite,” I laugh. “Anyway, you paid me back with a delicious cup of caffeinated coffee.” I smirk.
She bursts into laughter.
Milly gives us both a confused look, and then I grab my sister by the arm and practically drag her out of the house.