Chapter Thirty-Three
CHARLIE
Something wet and warm shoved straight up my nostril woke me out of a deep, glorious sleep.
It wasn’t exactly the way I’d imagined my morning going, especially after the night we’d had.
I’d fallen asleep with Tally curled into me, soft and spent, her leg hooked over mine, one arm flung across my chest. Her breath, slow and steady, had kept time with mine until I’d finally drifted off, high on whatever the hell kind of alchemy had happened between us.
But now? The alchemy had teeth and smelled vaguely of liver treats.
“What the—” I blinked against the pale morning light and wiped my face, groggy and disoriented. Nancy Reagan stared back at me, eyes wild, tongue still out like she hadn’t just assaulted my sinus cavity.
I groaned and rolled onto my side.
She was still there.
Curled toward the middle of the bed, one arm tucked under her cheek, the other flung across the pillow I’d abandoned.
Her curls were a tangled halo across the sheets, catching the morning light in soft brown streaks.
Lips parted. One knee hitched up like she’d been ready to bolt mid-dream.
She looked peaceful. Beautiful. But even in sleep, she carried that quiet storm with her—brewing beneath the surface, ready to tear through the room the second she opened her eyes.
I exhaled, slow and careful. Stupid how much I already missed her, even with her right there.
I sank back into the mattress for a second, trying to hold onto it all—the way she’d looked under the glow of those lights, her laugh balanced somewhere between reckless and shy, the way her fingers had curled in my hair like she never wanted to let go—the way she’d handed me her heart and trusted me not to screw it up.
And I stayed there on my knees, in front of her—my queen, in every way that mattered—vowing I’d do everything in my power not to.
Even if that meant sharing a bed with her dog, who clearly had no sense of boundaries and needed a bath in the worst possible way.
“Alright, Reagan. Message received,” I muttered, giving her a half-hearted pat. She sneezed in my face.
I was starting to drift again, hand lazily resting on the curve of Tally’s hip, when the front door swung open.
Loudly.
Nancy Reagan launched off the end of the bed like she’d been shot out of a cannon, barking so hard her front paws left the floor. Tally jolted awake with a gasp, half sitting up and dragging the sheet over her chest as I blinked toward the door in sleepy confusion.
“I swear to God, Jordan, if she broke any of my vintage crystal Baccarat ornaments, I will strangle her, pregnant or not.” Doyle’s voice boomed through the penthouse, all smug cheer and early morning audacity. “Surprise, sis! We’re home early.”
Jordan was quieter, trying to smooth things over with some sort of yoga breathing that was loud enough to hear behind closed doors. “Let’s not judge until we see all of it. Inhale peace, exhale expectation.”
“Oh, I’m inhaling something, alright,” Doyle grumbled. “What the hell is that smell? Is that spray paint?”
Tally hissed through her teeth and flopped back against the pillow. “Tell me that’s not my brother.”
“It’s your brother,” I said, resigned, throwing an arm across my eyes as footsteps echoed down the hallway.
Dig’s voice rang out a moment later, far too enthusiastic for someone who probably hadn’t slept in two days. “Helloooooo! Did Santa come early, or is that just the scent of sin and sugar cookies?”
And then the bedroom door creaked open.
I sat up as Doyle stepped inside and froze. His gaze darted from the twinkle light explosion in the living room behind him to the sight of me, shirtless in bed beside his naked, definitely-not-just-visiting sister.
There was a beat of silence—a long, painful one.
“So… the worst part is not that you two are in bed together. The worst part is that it looks like a coked-out Christmas elf blacked out in here and had a nervous breakdown with a Bedazzler.”
“You did, indeed, smell spray paint,” Jordan muttered from the hallway.
Tally let out a strangled laugh and pulled the sheet higher.
Dig, bless his heart, flopped down on the other side of her, completely unbothered by the situation or the state of undress. “Aw, you started without me.”
Nancy barked harder, leaping onto the bed and ricocheting off to pounce on Jordan and Doyle, her nails clicking wildly against the wood floors as Doyle tried his best to keep the dog off of his perfectly creased, white linen pants.
I closed my eyes, sighed, and said the only thing I could.
“Merry damn Christmas.”
***
Doyle, Jordan, and Dig had me cornered—shirtless—in the kitchen, while Tally hid in the bathroom under the guise of taking a long, hot shower. At this point, she was well past the acceptable timeline of a post-coital rinse and creeping into definite avoidance territory.
Not that I could blame her.
She wasn’t just hiding from her brother, her best friend, and her brother-in-law. She was hiding from me.
Because last night had changed everything.
The tension we’d been winding tighter between us for months had finally come undone, and it wasn’t the physical relief that had wrecked me—it was everything else.
The way her fingers threaded into my hair like she’d been waiting her whole life to hold on.
The sound of her laughing quietly in the dark when I cracked a joke that wasn’t even that funny.
The way she whispered my name like a prayer, over and over until she felt that release too—more than once. Not like I was counting or anything.
I’d felt all of it. Not only through my hands but under my skin, buried deep in a place I’d tried to keep locked up. And I couldn’t stop replaying it or wondering how the hell I was supposed to go back to pretending it hadn’t happened.
“Charlie,” Doyle snapped. “It’s one thing to screw my sister in my bed. It’s another to stand there, half naked, clearly replaying it in your head, while you drift off in my damn kitchen.”
I coughed and adjusted the waistband of my pajama pants. “Sorry. Just—uh…”
Dig laughed, arms crossed over his chest like he was trying really hard to appear tough.
“I may come off as the Betty White of the gays here, but don’t get it twisted.
I’ve been doing chorus-line squats for a month straight.
I could Rockette your ass into the next ZIP code if you so much as bruise her heart. ”
Jordan grumbled under his breath and busied himself pouring mimosas.
I leaned back a little and looked down at the only creature in the room not actively threatening me. “I would never hurt your mother, Nance,“ I murmured to the poodle, who blinked back at me with zero faith.
“It’s not you we’re worried about,” Jordan said mildly, handing me a champagne flute. “It’s Tally. You never know when she’s gonna get that look in her eye and decide she’s done here. That she needs to run. Somewhere else. Someone else.”
Dig drained his glass and topped it off with champagne only, not a drop of juice. “Honestly, I thought she’d end up back in New York with me. We could raise the baby together, have a perfect lavender marriage, and co-parent the next Broadway prodigy. It’d be fabulous.”
Doyle snorted. “I figured she’d run back to Momma by now.”
I groaned, dragging a hand down my face. “What if she stayed?”
That shut them up for exactly two seconds. And then they all laughed in unison, a joke that I wasn’t a part of rising in the kitchen and blanketing the group of us.
“Tally?” Doyle scoffed. “In Savannah? With you? A stable, responsible man who’s hardly ever left Savannah and has the organizational skills of an Eagle Scout?”
“Wild,” Jordan added.
“Bold,” Dig said, nodding.
I rolled my eyes at all of them. “This is why she is caught in a constant state of fight or flight, you guys. She doesn’t think anyone believes in her enough.”
I told them everything about our weeks together. The conversations we’d had, how she worked so diligently to find what she’d been searching for, and what had landed in her lap was so fucking perfect for her.
“She’s got an Excel spreadsheet and everything. She’s fucking smart. And fucking determined. You all should stop making her the damn punch line of every single joke.”
“The thing is, Charlie,” Doyle started, voice locked low and gaze on mine. “It’s not funny,” Doyle said, his voice low. “Not when we’ve seen her come up with grand ideas and then… poof.” He made a little explosion with his hands.
I was about to fire back when I caught movement from the corner of my eye.
A flash of hair and a shadow disappearing down the hall.