50. Chapter 50
Chloe’s face turned as white as the sheer top she wore to show the black lace bra underneath.
“What?” Jase turned and found Charlie, a man he’d never seen outside of Chums, standing in his kitchen. “Charlie?”
“Hey, Jase,” Charlie said with a nod. “Chloe.”
“How did you find me?” Chloe demanded.
“Stolen personnel file?” Jase suggested quietly.
“You weren’t texting me back,” Charlie said. “I put the pieces together, Chlo, and flew out as soon as I could.”
“What? Why?” Jase asked.
“She tell you about the baby?” Charlie asked.
“Yes, we were just talking about his baby,” Chloe said.
“We didn’t decide it was mine, actually,” Jase said.
“It’s not yours?” Lindsey asked, tucked in a cluster with Helen and Graham near the kitchen’s center island.
“Keep dreaming, babe.” Chloe dug a pack of cigarettes from her pocket and pulled one out with her lips. “It’s his.”
“Maybe not,” Charlie chimed in.
“Okay, hold on a second,” Jase said. “Charlie, not that it’s not good to see you, man, but what the actual fuck are you doing in my house?”
“Good question,” Chloe said. She lit the Marlboro and blew out a cloud of smoke.
“He’s chasing an anomaly,” Lindsey offered.
“You can’t smoke in here,” Graham cut in.
“You can’t smoke at all,” Charlie said. “It’s not good for the baby.”
She groaned and dropped the cigarette into one of Jase’s whiskeys. “I told you—you don’t get a say because you’re not the father.”
“We don’t know that.”
“Oh shit.” Jase widened his eyes on Charlie. “You’re the other guy?”
“You’re quick,” Helen murmured. Jase flashed her the bird and felt very mature for doing it.
Chloe grabbed Charlie’s arm. “We’ve been over this. It’s not yours. You have got to know this baby—”
“Could be mine.”
“It was one time,” she shrieked.
“Many times in one really awesome night,” Charlie clarified emphatically.
“Whatever, a few times in one night compared to literally hundreds.”
“Not hundreds,” Jase mumbled.
“Perfect,” Lindsey deadpanned.
He didn’t dare look at Lindsey, but he caught Helen flipping him off with a scowl that sent his balls shrinking for cover.
“All right, the odds are not in my favor,” Charlie said. “Chloe, let’s talk.”
“About what? I told you I’d be a few days. I got Carmen to cover my shifts. You really didn’t need to come all the way out here.”
“I don’t think he’s here about your shifts,” Helen surmised.
Charlie squeezed Chloe’s hands to keep her from backing away. “I came to talk about us.”
“There is no us. I was pissed off at Jase.”
“How long have we known each other?”
Chloe, still locked in Charlie’s grip, searched the room for help—which she wasn’t getting—or an exit—which were all blocked—and scoffed, “It’s never been romantic.”
“Not for you,” Charlie said.
“Please don’t do this. I’m pregnant and hormonal and I really don’t want to lose my shit in front of these people.”
“I flew here to keep you from making the biggest mistake of your life. He’s not good for you.” Charlie tipped his head at Jase. “No offense, man.”
“None taken,” Jase said. “I agree, by the way.”
“But I am. I’m good for you. I want to take care of this baby.”
“I already told you. It isn’t yours.”
Charlie silenced her with a finger to her dark red lips. “Shh. Doesn’t matter.”
Chloe spun and put a few feet and a kitchen chair between them. “How can you even say that?”
“Chloe.” Charlie exhaled. “I’m in love with you.”
“Jesus H. Christ,” Graham mumbled, pawing at his chest.
“Charlie,” Chloe said.
“I’m in love with you. I don’t care whose baby it is. I’m done playing around and I’m done pretending I don’t care how many times you get hurt.” Charlie tipped his head to Jase again. “No offense.”
“None taken.”
“Chloe—”
The monologue Charlie must’ve practiced on the plane was interrupted by the second chiming of “Heartbreak Hotel.”