13. Charlie
I’m standing and looking at myself in the bedroom mirror. The dress I’ve chosen is navy blue. It’s a bit clingy, but not immodest; with a love heart neckline; there is ruffled material gathered at the waist, and the skirt ends just below my knee. I have blue shoes to match because you just have to, right?
Am I completely mad to go to this birthday party pretending to be Troy’s girlfriend again?
Yes. Quite likely.
But after Milly mentioned Mrs. Patterson’s limited time left with us, a part of me felt I just couldn’t say no. I have no doubt that it has a lot to do with my own mother’s untimely passing. When death affects you so deeply like that, it’s difficult not to imprint it on all sorts of experiences that would not ordinarily affect someone.
If her believing that Troy and I are together makes his grandmother happy, who am I to take that away from her? Yes, it is a little white lie, but I’m not the one who told it.
No, Charlie, you’re just complicit in going along with it.
I shake my head and try to ignore my conscience. I’m bringing a smile to an old woman’s face. Surely that can’t be a bad thing. Of course, you may notice that I’m also completely ignoring how all this makes me feel.
My immediate answer to Milly was a firm no. Mainly because I was caught off guard, but more than that, I’m still not a hundred percent sure that Troy and I could make it if we tried again. But I suppose those thoughts will have to wait for another day. Taking a deep breath, I turn and leave the room.
“Wow,” Troy says, giving me a wide-eyed glance when I approach the truck. “You look…” He trails off, either because he’s lost for words, or he’s worried he might say the wrong thing. I don’t know which.
“You don’t look too bad yourself,” I say, nodding to the black suit and white shirt he’s left open at the neck.
He looks far better than my flippant compliment conveys, and I feel my stomach tighten as my eyes graze over him. He looks delicious, but there’s no way those words are leaving my mouth.
He opens the passenger door and gestures for me to climb in. “Let’s get going. We don’t want to disappoint Grandma now, do we?” He rolls his eyes, and I giggle.
We travel the short distance across town, and only then do I feel the nerves kicking in. I suppose I haven’t really thought this through. Troy’s entire family is going to be there, including his mom and dad. But surely Mr. and Mrs. Heaton know this is all a farce. That knowledge makes this circumstance even more difficult.
“How are we going to play this?” I ask when we’re about ten minutes away.
Troy throws me a glance. He doesn’t need to ask what I mean. He shrugs and says, “How do you want to play it?”
I wasn’t really expecting that reply, and I’m at a loss as to how to answer it. I suppose I wanted Troy to take the lead, given that it’s his family.
“Look,” he says. “Let’s just play it by ear, okay? Grandma thinks we’re dating. We don’t need to go crazy.”
I nod nervously. Troy shakes his head and heaves a sigh. “My sister has a lot to answer for.”
Troy drives slowly down the long driveway leading to his grandparents’ place, eventually pulling the truck up and parking next to the other cars there. Mr. and Mrs. Patterson’s house is a great old building with a lot of land around it. It was once a farm, but neither of them can run it now.
Troy jumps out and circles the truck before opening my door. “Oh, Lord,” I breathe.
He smiles, takes hold of my hand, and says, “Come on. It’ll be fine.”
He’s still holding my hand when we enter the huge house. It’s strange, feeling his skin against mine again. His hands are still as large and strong as they always were, and yet he holds me with a gentle touch. My body is reacting in all sorts of ways, and between the nerves of having to pretend in front of his entire family and the feelings his touch is evoking, my head is all over the place.
“Hey, you guys,” Milly cries as she spots us walking into the empty living room.
While there’s no one here, the room is decorated with plenty of balloons and ribbons. There’s music playing quite loudly, and for a second, I wonder where everyone is.
“We’re out in the back,” Milly says. “Come on.”
I look up at Troy, who smiles down at me. “Showtime,” he says.
We walk out into the huge back garden hand in hand, and heads begin to turn. The patio is decorated with more ribbons and balloons draped around an open wooden frame overhead.
There’s a barbecue going, surrounded by a group of men. Other small groups are gathered together and talking. Troy’s grandparents are seated on garden furniture, both immersed in conversation with family to the left and right of them. I’ll be honest, I didn’t realize Troy’s family was so vast. There must be sixty or seventy people here.
It’s only as people start greeting Troy with delight that I realize this is the first time he’s seen his family in ten years. And all of a sudden, I feel so out of place. I shouldn’t be here. This is not just his grandmother’s birthday, it’s also a family reunion. Why had that not even crossed my mind?
You couldn’t have known.
Maybe. But I should have at least considered it.
Troy acknowledges them all, and I greet them with a weak smile, while we make our way to where his grandparents are sitting.
“Oh, my darling child,” Mrs. Patterson cries, standing when we get near her. Troy lets go of my hand as she throws her arms around her grandson and hugs him tightly.
While Troy and Mrs. Patterson are in a long embrace, Mr. Patterson smiles warmly at me and nods.
“Hello, Mr. Patterson. It’s so lovely to see you again.”
“And you, my dear,” the old man says. “It’s been a while.”
“It has.”
Our conversation is brought to a halt when Troy reaches for his grandfather and hugs him, too. In fact, I’m feeling all emotional about the reunion, and I can actually sense my throat tightening. It probably has something to do with the fact that Mrs. Patterson currently has tears rolling down her cheeks.
“And, my dear Charlie,” she says, grabbing ahold of my hands and squeezing as tightly as an eighty-year-old woman can—which I will admit is tighter than you might think. “You cannot know how delighted I am that you’re here. And that you’re here with Troy. We always thought you made such a lovely couple.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Patterson,” I say, feeling the guilt rising. “It’s a pleasure to be here.”
With Mr. and Mrs. Patterson seated again, Milly brings over a couple of paper plates topped with burgers and sausages for me and Troy. “I hope you’re hungry,” she sings. “There’s plenty more where this came from.”
“Thanks, Milly,” I say.
Troy takes his plate and gives his sister a look. “Are you happy now?” he murmurs.
“It’s not about me,” Milly quips back. “It’s about Grandma.”
“Sure it is,” he says.
When everyone finishes eating, a great hubbub occurs. A second later, I hear everyone singing “Happy Birthday” as Troy’s mom brings out a beautiful cake. I join in, of course, but I still feel a little out of place. Everyone here is family. Everyone but me.
I slip inside to the bathroom a little later, and as I’m wandering through the house on my way back, I hear my name. I spin around to see Mrs. Heaton standing there with a warm smile on her face.
I’m about to apologize for the misunderstanding when she says, “I’m so glad you came, Charlie. More than that, I’m thrilled to hear the news about you and Troy.”
I’ll admit it: I’m dumbfounded. As thoughts fly through my head, it occurs to me that it was likely Mrs. Heaton who told her mother that Troy and I are back together. Something Milly did not make clear at all. Of course, Mrs. Heaton could only have heard it from one person. But I knew it had been Milly’s meddling all along. Troy was right; Milly did have a lot to answer for.
“Thank you,” I say, trying to keep my composure.
Mrs. Heaton is still smiling broadly. “You know, he never did get over you. There has never been anyone else since he left.”
And now, I’m completely floored. I had imagined that Troy enjoyed all the delights that Paris had to offer, including the beautiful women. But apparently, my imagination was way off.
“Is that right?” I murmur.
Mrs. Patterson nods with conviction. “It is. But then, he was always besotted with you, my darling.”
Someone from the backyard calls for Mrs. Heaton, and hearing her name, she smiles at me again and heads toward the back. I’m left to stand there and try and process what she’s said.
First of all, I have no idea what to do with the information. Everything I have assumed about Troy while he was living in Paris has been wrong. He was working hard to better himself; he wasn’t living it up in France’s capital city. Nor was he spending every night with a different woman at his pleasure. Well, according to Mrs. Heaton, at any rate.
He’s returned home as this mature man with a whole future planned for his success. But that’s not my main thought. I’m now wondering if everything Troy has done for me since his return has just been about showing his remorse.
“Are you okay?”
Troy’s voice catches me off guard, and I spin to look at him. He’s standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame. Just like that day when I first knew he liked me. A wave of nostalgia washes over me, and my stomach does a somersault.
“I’m fine,” I lie.
“You want me to take you home? You’ve played your part now.”
And then the strangest sensation comes over me, and I realize that I don’t want to go. I want to stay here with Troy. I want to stay here with Troy and continue pretending that we are together.
Careful, Charlie.
“No. It’s okay.”
“Are you sure?” Troy presses, clearly wanting to know if that’s what I truly want.
“I’m sure.”
He holds his hand out, and I walk across the room to take it. He gazes down at me with a look that makes my legs feel like jelly. It’s a look he gave me often when we were together for real. It’s a look of affection that takes my breath away.
I’m in trouble. Big, big trouble.