Chapter 23
Chapter twenty-three
This Stage Is Called Bargaining
Holden comes through the door, staring at me in amusement.
Laying now on the bed in only a fluffy hotel robe with a panic expression on my face.
My lips seal together as I filter through several stages of grief—denial, anger, and currently bargaining.
I don’t even have a ghost whispering in my ear to reinforce that I am an insane person at this very moment.
Nope, I am here all on my own.
“How was sleeping in the tub?” he interjects.
“I don’t know. How was sleeping in thousand-thread-count sheets?” I say gripping the linen, feeling the most luxurious bedding, I’ve ever laid my hands on.
“It was wonderful,” A smirk flickers on his face as he tosses me a thick booklet of pages with our faces on the front of it. My name sprawled on the cover next to his.
Because why wouldn’t this get any worse?
Like a lightening strike, my spiral comes on suddenly without warning. Our first kiss is another thing branded forever on me from last night.
“How am I going to get home?” My hands cover my face.
“I’ll take you home,” Holden says, as if it is the most obvious answer. Nothing feels obvious right now. Another flight to Los Angeles was probably going to be another few hundred dollars.
“I don’t even have clothes. Only a bra, underwear and a giant ball gown.”
“I’m sure the flight attendants won’t mind,” he teases. It dawns on me that all my stuff is in the guest room of the Whitmore estate. A place I am probably banned from until eternity.
I try to muster a smile as Holden drops a clear plastic bag he has been shielding from me in my lap.
“I bought you some clothes.”
The bag stays in my lap for a while. I’m still fixated on the paint chipping on the wall directly in front of me.
“I won’t be able to afford my rent.”
A twenty-seven-hundred-dollar apartment that is on the second floor of Wok’ & Roll, a rundown Chinese restaurant will not be understanding if I’m late one more time with my rent. My fifteen-minute car ride to the beach will be nonexistent. Charlotte Tate will have to go back to Newark, New Jersey.
“What have I done?” I say out loud.
The thought sends a chill up my spine. I don’t feel ready to leave Los Angeles. How can you spend years of your life working toward something, only for it to completely falter in one night?
Holden takes a large sigh and zips up his jacket. “Stay with me.”
“Well, gee, you think of everything…”
I finally undo the knot on the plastic bag to pull out a new long sundress, pink cheeky underwear, and a nude bra that is two sizes too small.
“I hope I picked okay?”
He jumps off the bed, wringing his hands together, watching me.
“What? No personal shopper?”
“Nope. I did it myself.”
It was the kind of response that reassured me of all the things I liked about him. In every interview and project he had been part of, I saw how likable he naturally was. It always amazed me that the media portrayed him so differently.
He laughed at the perfect time.
His eye contact made you feel like you were the only one in the room.
The details he noticed about a person.
I couldn’t even fault him for not noticing what size bra I wore.
Pulling the dress out of the bag, it reminds me of the one hanging in my closet. A blend of blue and white flowers in a jersey material. A hand-selected dress from Mr. All or Nothing.
“I think I own a similar dress.”
“You do.”
My face goes flush when he answers, displaying shades of red. Arching my eyebrows, I sit upright. “What?”
“You wore it the first day we met when you barely said a word to me.”
“I said... words.”
I bite my fingers, trying to process in real time how this is all going to work for us. What would fake-dating Holden Strauss look like? I must be down to nubs when he rips my hand from my mouth as I shift in my seat.
“It’s going to be okay.” Holden rests his hand on my thigh, and I am not sure if I should remove it this time.
“It’s weird seeing you as an optimist.”
“I had coffee, it’s a new morning. Anything can happen.”
“I am going to book us some tickets to leave tomorrow. Just take some deep breaths.”
I try my hardest to nod as the breathing starts off slow and increases swiftly. The pendant is activating again, sparking a blue glow as if my confession triggered the necklace to come alive.
“Let me put on a movie,” he says.
The male character in this action movie has Aidan’s eyes.
I’m staring lifeless at the screen, being transported to four years ago in my mind. Going down memory lane of when I was introduced to all the Whitmores.
All I can remember is being a silent observer. Holding Aidan’s hand underneath the dinner table for the majority of the night. When I did chime in, it would be to tag along to a point Aidan made. Every time I would, one look from him would cause fluttering butterflies to enter my stomach.
“I don’t get why entrance exams are even allowed for students who can’t afford the tuition,” His brother, Jonathan says.
“People’s inability to pay their student loans isn’t my problem. They should have gotten a degree in something that actually matters, instead of wasting their time at whatever liberal arts school,” Mr. Whitmore adds.
“I don’t know, maybe it was their passion…” Aidan offers.
Mr. Whitmore knocks his head back, talking with his mouth full. “Yeah, and passion is what gets people into debt for fifty years.”
For the rest of the dinner, Aidan was a client. Conversations amalgamating from college tuition, healthcare policies at the latest election, and the laziness of our generation… all covered during a three-course dinner.
My lips were sealed during all of it. By the end of it, when everyone was ready for a nightcap, I went to my room. Slipping into my new silky red pajamas, slicking my hair back in a bun, and freshly moisturizing my face.
I was ready for Aidan to come in at any moment. We were at the six-month mark, and meeting the parents at this stage was huge.
Waiting for him to come back felt endless and tiring. Occupying myself in their guest room led to my obsession to find the floss picks I packed. A vital part of my nightly routine.
You are going to get gum disease if you don’t brush and floss every day. A common saying preached by my dad, who let everyone know he was a dentist and don’t you forget it.
With no luck searching the room and my bags, I tiptoed through the Whitmores’ house to try to find Ruth, the maid, or another bathroom that might have it.
Their house had several long corridors. Along the way, I made a wrong left turn, stopping when I overheard Jonathan, Aidan’s older brother, talking.
“You gave me time to figure out my life.”
“He has been out of college for a year. Plus, you knew you wanted to be a lawyer. Aidan doesn’t have a clue…”
“I think Charlotte can get his head on straight. She knows what it’s like to work hard for something…”
“Charlotte doesn’t understand what it takes to be successful. She just took a job getting coffee for people. I hardly call that an example for Aidan. He is irresponsible. He doesn’t know his head from his ass.” His dad reinforces.
Hearing our names in their mouths felt repulsive at the time. Aidan was only twenty-three, and they expected the world from him. They just kept talking. I just kept listening like a masochist.
The tears fell as soon I went back to the room, praying Aidan didn’t hear what I just heard. That night and many nights after that, was just composed of several gatherings where Aidan begged to look different in their eyes.
My chest deflates.
“Where did you just go?” Holden interjects. I’m sucked out of my thoughts as the car crash scene is starting to play on the TV.
“I don’t know who I am without this job.”
A small chuckle stumbles out of me. Without asking, I don’t hesitate to slip into his open arms.
He mumbles under his breath, “I’ve felt the same way for years.”
My bones ache, but his hold alleviates the pressure. I sink further into his grasp and say, “Thanks for sticking around.”