Chapter 27
The worst goddamn reunion in the history of this goddamn planet was winding down, at long goddamn last. Midnight had come
and gone. Bez had headed out a few minutes ago. Johnathan was off to take a quick break and fetch a final resupply of their
picked-over hors d’oeuvres, but Karl figured only a quarter of the remaining snacks might get eaten. He’d send the rest home
with Charlotte and Johnathan.
The crowds were thinning, minute by minute. From his spot behind the refreshments table, he could finally tell for damn sure:
Molly was nowhere to be found. Probably went back to the Spite House hours ago, without even telling him.
Pretty soon, she’d be gone from Harlot’s Bay too. Because apparently she didn’t see much reason to stay, and wasn’t that shitty news a power punch to the fucking gut?
He rounded the table. Inspected the setup from a partygoer’s point of view. Trays looked neat. Tablecloth wasn’t rumpled.
At least a half dozen left of each item, pending Johnathan’s restocking. Good. At least something had gone right tonight.
With a grunt, he squatted down to clean up some dropped food at the foot of the table. Also to hide his stupid smarting eyes
in kinda-privacy, since Charlotte—dutiful to the end—wouldn’t budge from her self-assigned position behind the table.
When he got a hold of himself and stood again, though, her hand under his elbow unexpectedly assisted him upright.
“Thanks,” he muttered, vaguely surprised by the gesture.
She was stronger than she looked. Good grip, too.
After letting go of his arm, she swung in a tight circle, scanning their surroundings. Then nodded to herself.
“If you keep your voice to a dull roar, no one will hear us over ‘The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald.’” Her brow creased. “Which is a truly odd song to play at a reunion, but that’s beside the point.”
Befuddled and heartsick, he heaved a loud sigh. “What damn point?”
“Tell me what happened.” When Charlotte’s stare met his, she didn’t look away. Didn’t flinch at either his scowl or his incipient
tears. “Athena and Matthew aren’t here, and you clearly need to talk. So tell me what went wrong between you and Molly, Karl.”
Startled again, he actually focused on her. Paid attention to what probably should’ve been obvious a long fucking time ago.
Her voice was hoarse with fatigue. She looked tired too, with shadowed half-moons beneath her deep blue eyes. That shit was
temporary, though. What was permanent: Those eyes didn’t belong to a na?ve teenager anymore. Didn’t shine with innocence like
they had when he’d first hired her. Instead, they were warm with sympathy and affection. Dark with concern and knowledge born
of painful experience.
At far too young an age, she’d left carefree girlhood far behind, and while he loved her children with all his damn heart,
he hated that she hadn’t had more time to believe happy, hopeful things about the world and about love. Somehow, though, she
still seemed happy. Still seemed hopeful. Still seemed to be finding her place in the world—and finding love too, if he was
reading things correctly when it came to Matthew’s nerdy, caring CPNP, Hector.
In the end, it didn’t matter whether Karl liked how it’d happened. Regardless, Charlotte had grown up. Become smart and strong and beautiful, in every way possible. Maybe because of her parents’ steadfast support. Maybe because she simply was a smart, strong, beautiful person and always had been.
Most of the newest, most popular items on Karl’s menu?
Her ideas. Because she’d researched and taught herself a crap ton about food and creative flavor combinations in her nonexistent
spare time.
Most of the items on this very table?
Her work had helped create ’em. She’d arranged the child care she’d needed and labored capably by his side without a single
complaint, after paying close attention to his instructions and soaking in anything he taught her like a damn dish sponge.
Despite his fatigue-blurred eyes, he felt like he was seeing her clearly for the first time in years. Not as a kid, not even
as a protégé or surrogate daughter, but as a colleague. As a friend, whose good will and strength he could rely upon, even
as he offered his in return.
And if he was with a reliable friend?
He could let down his damn guard. “You really want to know what happened with Molly?”
“I really want to know,” she said without a moment’s hesitation.
So he told her everything. Except the sexual shit, because she might be his friend, but he was still her boss, and he wasn’t
going to harass her. She listened silently the whole time, nodding on occasion to show she understood what he was saying.
And when he finally finished yammering, Charlotte looked straight at him and asked a simple, quiet question. “You didn’t tell
her how much you want her here?”
He fidgeted. Got blustery and defensive, because he knew where this was damn well going: the same place it’d gone with Matthew and Athena. But Charlotte just waited patiently until he was ready to admit the plain truth.
“Said please when I asked, but . . .” After scrubbing his hands over his face, he dropped them. “No. Guess I didn’t.”
“And you haven’t told her you love her?”
“She hasn’t said she loves me either,” he pointed out immediately.
Other than his mom and sisters, no woman had ever told him that. And for the longest time, that absence—the lack of those
words—had hurt him more than actual insults. More than most of his breakups ever had. At least until Molly had returned and
showed him what actual love looked and felt like, and he’d finally understood.
His exes hadn’t declared their love because those relationships weren’t love.
Molly didn’t have that excuse. Although . . . she might have others.
“Hmmm.” Stretching her back with a faint hiss, Charlotte waited while he helped a partygoer. Once they were alone again, she
asked, “Does Molly have any reason to be skittish with men?”
Apparently he and Charlotte were thinking along the same lines.
“Yeah.” Her father’s second life wasn’t his secret to share. Her divorce wasn’t particularly privileged information, though,
from what he could tell. “Together with an asshole seventeen fucking years. Marriage ended badly. Got divorced two years ago.”
Charlotte winced. “So she’s understandably wary.”
“Yeah,” he repeated, and braced for the inevitable.
“I . . .” She spoke cautiously at first, testing out each syllable before she continued. “I know you’re a sensitive soul, Karl, but—”
“Holy fuck, not this shit again.” With a heartfelt groan, he stabbed a finger in her direction. “If you compare me to a chocolate
egg, Charlotte, swear to Christ—”
“—maybe you need to be the one who leaps first, even though it’s scary,” she added more hurriedly, ignoring his interruption.
“Because you love her, and if you let her leave without telling her, we both know you’ll regret it. Maybe forever.” She laid
an encouraging hand on his shoulder. “You still have one more full day together. You’ve got time to gather your words and
your courage, then make your declaration.”
Woman wasn’t wrong. Which blew.
“Hmmph.” Tugging irritably at his bow tie, he glowered into the far distance. “I’ll think about it.”
Silence. Lips pursed into a skeptical line, Charlotte raised her brows at him.
“Wasn’t lying. Thinking about it now, actually.” His main conclusion, after a quick glance at his phone display? It was way
too late to have such an important conversation tonight. Such a goddamn shame. And now: time for a distraction. “Also thinking
I’m pretty sure Johnathan fell asleep on the toilet again.”
That kid could nod off anywhere. A real talent, assuming he didn’t have sleep apnea. Should Karl open a browser window and
get more information on that? As opposed to planning a terrifying heart-to-heart with Molly?
“Probably. If he’s not back in five minutes, we’ll check on him.” Charlotte let her hand drop from his shoulder. Didn’t step
away, though. “Hey, Karl?”
Midway through a Mayo Clinic rundown of sleep apnea symptoms, he paused. Looked up at Charlotte again. “Yeah?”
“Thank you,” she said softly.
His brows drew together. “For what?”
“You’ve never shared something so personal with me before. I didn’t . . .” Biting her lip, she took a moment before continuing.
“I didn’t realize you trusted me that much. So . . . thank you for telling me what happened with Molly, and thank you for
listening to what I said in response.”
What the hell?
“I’ve always trusted you. Just knew you had a full plate for someone so young. Didn’t want to burden you with my shit too.”
She looked shocked. “Really?”
“Yes, really.” He glared at her. “Jesus H. Christ.”
Still wide-eyed with disbelief, she spread her hands helplessly. “I know you care about me and my kids, obviously. But I guess
I assumed you thought of me as kind of a dumb kid too. Your personal albatross, until some other workplace took me off your
hands.”
Jaw dropped in absolute bewilderment, he couldn’t do anything but gape at her.
Her lips curved into a wry, faintly bitter smile. “I mean, I was a teenage mom two times over. Then I kept quitting a good
job to try to work things out with someone who clearly wasn’t ready for a family. I’m not exactly . . .” She paused for a
moment. “How might Athena put it? I’m not exactly an exemplar of great decision-making.”
How could she have possibly believed he felt that way about her?
“Charlotte.” Reaching out, he grabbed her hand. Held tight. “I never—never—thought that. Of course I never thought any of that bullshit.”
“But . . .” Lines scored her brow. “But isn’t that why you don’t want me to apprentice under you?”
“What?” They hadn’t discussed an apprenticeship. That much, he knew for damn sure. “We didn’t . . .”
Then he remembered the conversation they’d had weeks ago, in his workroom. The day he’d been agonizing over Molly’s unwillingness