Chapter 27
Chapter twenty-seven
Let’s Call This What It Is
Since being unemployed, I haven’t let myself be bound by time.
Every minute of every hour has been tied to my cellphone, chronically glued to my ear, mirroring the same habits I unknowingly picked up from Chris.
Every styling suite and press coverage company has been filling up my call log for the past three days.
All in my fancy office where my desk is my bed and my uniform is my pajamas from the night before. A black satin top with a white trim collar and matching pants—probably could pass as business casual if you squint.
With caffeine not far away from my bed, I begin to draft my first email of the day.
To: tips@
Subject: Photo Inquiry – Holden Strauss
As promised, please find the photo of Mr. Strauss at the acting studio in Burbank with Mr. Lafayette.
We would like the photo published today, emphasizing his dedication to the craft. If this runs as expected, I can assure you exclusive photos will be provided moving forward.
CT, Public Relations
Circling back and forth between my full name and my initials, I land on the ambiguous signature “CT” in case anyone does simple math. Within seconds, Lenz and Vine replies back, delighted at the new partnership. Not even questioning if I am a legitimate person.
A small part of me hopes this will be traced back to Blackburn instead of me.
Fixating on the photo for a few moments longer, I scan every detail—his black leather jacket, stubble around his chin, crinkle in his eyes, fully immersed in the scene.
I wish I always saw this version of him that exists deep down between the smoldering stares and witty comments. Holden Strauss actually cares about something.
He would hate to see it documented.
Closing my laptop, I head to the kitchen to start my next plan—baking.
My baked goods have always snuck into the good graces of people.
My friend, Sarah, an assistant at a large casting agency, is always keeping me up-to-date on the latest newsworthy casting sessions.
Through the pipeline, I’ve heard talks of Mr. Eclaire set to direct the movie Ageless in January.
A script that Holden was holding on to at his house the first time I visited, which he never got the chance to show me.
With the promise of my chocolate-chip cookies being delivered, Sarah forwarded me a brief on the movie.
A period piece set in the 1950s that follows a woman in her sixties determined to find a doctor who will make her young again after she falls in love with a man thirty years her junior. Desperate for more time and to live her romance freely, she tries everything to make their love last.
Everything about this screamed blockbuster.
Biting my lower lip, I could see Holden’s future clearly.
I was dangerously close to getting him everything he wanted since our first meeting.
Just a few baked goods, a few more photo ops, the premiere and the podcast were all we needed to cast him where he needed to be.
I place the tray of cookies in the oven and pull out my phone, hovering over his name—
Charlotte: Wanna get food before our appointment? Let’s say Brightside Bistro at 3?
Holden: Need energy to hang out with me?
Charlotte: Never. I just need sustenance to live.
Holden: Sounds good.
Just when I think our text exchange is over—
Holden: Any excuse to see my girlfriend more.
Butterflies circle my stomach. Everything inside me buzzes—absolutely giddy from his text. An abrupt knock pulls me back to reality.
Wearing an idiotic grin on my face, I skip to the door. My apartment is filled with the sweet-smelling aroma of melted chocolate.
For the first time in days, I feel relief. Swinging the door open, I find myself toe-to-toe with his blonde hair and disheveled appearance—khakis and an untucked polo.
“Can I come in for a minute?”
Aidan steps forward and I don’t say a word, only opening the door a little wider to let him through. Everything about his face looks haggard, as if he were in the middle of a sleep study and shooting to stay up for a solid forty-eight hours.
He doesn’t wait for a few awkward greetings. No, he jumps right into it.
“I’ve been thinking about what happened a lot,” he says.
“Me too.” My whole body shivers.
“Why did you kiss him? I knew we were off, but I didn’t think we were that bad?”
Everything has culminated to this moment and there is no avoiding every thought I’ve had since the garden party.
“Take a seat, Aidan.” I gesture to my stained couch, covered in cushions and giant throw blankets.
“Aidan, I—” I reach my hand out to his jittery leg, which is uncontrollably shaking, to stop it in place as we sit down.
“Before you say anything, I wanted to give you this—”
A small navy-blue velvet box is placed in my hands.
“I’ve been thinking a lot since the garden party and I was mad at first. Really mad at you…” His eyes are glossy and his voice actually sounds choked up. An unfamiliar look on him.
“I’m willing to get past these past few months. I just need to know you still love me?”
“I loved you for a long time, Aidan,” I say, pushing the box back in the folds of his fingertips, wrapping his hand over it.
He just stares at the box for a long time.
“Have you been with him this whole time? Since he has been a client?”
He doesn’t look angry—just worried, with his eyebrows furrowed. I am suddenly unsure where to put my hands or my feet. Relief rushes through me when I hear a sharp repetitive beeping sound come from my kitchen, quickly cutting the tension in half.
“No, I wasn’t with him,” I say flatly, leaping off the couch to grab the cookies that are ready to be taken out. They look perfect sitting in the middle rack, the gooey chocolate pouring out of the dough.
“Fucking idiot!” I yell, realizing too late that I forgot to put on an oven mitt as the tray brands my skin. I throw the pan haphazardly onto the stovetop. The singe of my own burning flesh hits me all at once.
“UGHH, this really fucking hurts!” I gasp, clutching my burned hand.
“What just happened?” He yells from the other room before darting into the kitchen where I am standing.
All I can focus on is his question he asked me before.
“I don’t think this is about Holden. I think it’s about the fact that we can’t even make time for each other.”
“Charlotte, let me get you some ice.”
“No, stay there.” I wince as I run over to my sink, letting the cool water wash over the throbbing ache in my hand.
“How long have you felt this way?”
I don’t dare turn around. I feel his presence right behind me, watching me closely—I just can’t.
“Since you stopped…” I wince again, feeling the sting come back again.
“Let’s put ice on it,” he demands.
“No, it’s fine. Just let me get through this.”
“Okay,” he mumbles.
“I’m not sure when it stopped, but one day you stopped caring enough to ask. I can’t even remember the last time you held my door.”
I can hear him opening my freezer and pulling out an ice pack.
“I can hold the door for you again!”
“That’s not the point, Aidan.”
Just like that, something in my chest cracks wide open. I know this will hurt more than my own burning flesh.
“We’ve been together for so long that I thought our routine was status quo. We just faded when everything in our lives got louder. If we were supposed to move in together, it would’ve happened by now. And not because you saw a photo of me with another guy.”
“Of course I want to move in with you. Even before you started working with Holden. I never stopped caring.”
“Maybe. But somewhere along the way, I forgot to remove the pickles off your burger and you forgot what kind of coffee I like.”
My breathing is becoming more erratic as it takes everything inside of me to admit this to him—or more or less myself—out loud.
“Baby. Please don’t do this. I love you.” Aidan is pleading, on the verge of getting down on his hands and knees.
“Stop making this harder.” A small tear ripples down my face faster than I can stop it. A full-blown sob bursts out of me as if it’s been sitting in my chest waiting to be let out.
“Don’t cry, Charlotte.” He swipes the tear from my chin, passing me an ice pack already in his hand.
“Too late.” I stop the faucet, only hearing droplets fall slowly.
“I just don’t want to lose you. You are my best friend.”
Truth is, he already did. Bit by bit—the dropped phone calls, the forgotten hand signals…
Maybe before I could justify how things were, but now?
Too much has happened for me to be okay with it. We have a moment of silence where he is pacing and I am clutching an ice pack. The only thing between us is air.
Until he breaks it with, “You must have plans today. You look nice.” He darts his eyes from the tray to the calendar hanging on my fridge.
“Yeah, I have an event. I was going to finish getting ready after I was done baking…”
“With Holden?”
I nod at the gray, stained carpet I am now standing on. The pain is not stopping in my hand.
We could stand here for hours while I explain every moment that upsets me, but I don’t have the energy.
In less than an hour, I have to get ready to meet Holden. I just can’t do this again.
“Guess that’s it then? No chance of winning you back?” His eyes soften as he takes another step forward, toward me. I shake my head no.
I whisper, “Just because we weren’t right for each other right now doesn’t mean that was always the case.” I move closer, feeling his breaths against my skin.
“I know. Just not anymore,” he murmurs, leaning in for one kiss. My body swivels away from him and his lips land on my cheek.
The tears don’t come until he slips out the door.
Saying goodbye for the last time.