18. Trust if the greatest compliment I could give you
CHAPTER 18
TRUST IF THE GREATEST COMPLIMENT I COULD GIVE YOU
EMMA
I t’s midnight the first time Charlie calls, and I’m so surprised, I answer out of pure curiosity.
“Charlie?”
All I get in return is rustling and a curse. Then a curious “Emma?”
“Am I interrupting?”
There’s a small groan. “My phone fell on my face and called you by accident.”
Laughter bubbles up through my chest like fresh fizz. The image alone is going to make me giggle for months.
“Yeah, yeah, laugh at my pain.”
It’s different like this. A little softer, his voice more like wool than steel. There’s a flicker of excitement in my chest, a side effect of the smile I can’t hold back and don’t bother trying to hide because he can’t see me.
“This is one hell of a list, sweetheart.”
Oh. Right.
Ivy gave me the idea while I was three margaritas deep into my grief over Logan ending things. Why not try some new things for myself? Like kinky user testing.
Spanking? Not interested. Blindfolds? Yes. Bondage? Yes (ties and cuffs). Pain? No. Humiliation? No. Toys? Yes, please, and thank you. Followed by a list of maybes I want to try.
I did ask him to read the list, but discussing it while I’m in bed, his voice deep and rumbling in my ear, never crossed my mind.
I kick the sheets off, suddenly too warm.
“I didn’t give you my number so you could call me in the middle of the night.”
“Would you rather I sent you a Teams message tomorrow?” He chuckles. “The guys in cyber security might have some questions.”
Was it meant to be humid tonight? A light sweat is breaking out behind my knees.
I sprawl out, desperate for relief from the fire heating me from the inside out. “No, this is fine.”
That’s a lie. It doesn’t feel fine. It feels… confusing.
Which is ridiculous. I’m the one who asked him to help me.
Music swells from the television, reminding me I was mid-movie before he called, and I quickly lower the sound.
Charlie, who notices everything and can never help himself, asks, “What are you watching?”
I curl up on my side, stuffing one hand under my pillow. “ To Catch A Thief .” It was Nana’s favorite, so it’s mine as well.
“Give me a minute, and I’ll catch up.”
Why not? Things are already strange enough. And I’m not ready to discuss the real reason he called.
“Cary wore his own wardrobe here, you know. Nan was obsessed with his style, Kelly too, of course.”
Charlie hums, the sound low and soothing.
I find myself trying to picture him. Today he was sporting a slim charcoal wool suit that I would bet money is a three-piece, even though he wasn’t wearing a waistcoat. “Your wardrobe would have impressed her.”
“Thanks, but I’m much more interested in your opinion.”
My pulse rabbits in my throat. “You already know how good I think you look.”
“I don’t, actually,” he purrs, and the air around me grows thick. “Tell me again.”
Christ.
“You’re ridiculous,” I sigh, but secretly I’m happy. With the phone cradled against my ear and the soft sheets under me, it’s easier to let go. Like we’ve pressed pause on the outside world, and now it’s only us.
“This movie is a little ridiculous,” he says. “But I can see what you like about it.”
“It’s a guilty pleasure. Nana loved the clothes. Every chance she could, she’d come over, put a movie on, and teach me everything she knew.” Suits were her favorite. She really would have loved k-dramas. “Edith Head, Eiko Ishioka, Ruth Carter. She loved costume designers. Have you ever seen Mahogany ? The clothes are gorgeous. The whole reason Nana studied fashion was to get into wardrobe. That’s how her business started.” It’s been ten years since she passed, and I miss her every single day. “Watching them now always makes me feel like she’s with me.”
Every time I finish a project at work, I hope she’d be proud of me. “If you’re looking for suits, I really love Loulou Bontemp’s work. Oh, we should watch The Untouchables . I don’t think I’ve ever seen a version of Eliot Ness I didn’t want to—” I stop.
“Want to what?” he asks, practically purring down the line.
It shouldn’t be seductive. But my body doesn’t care. Charlie’s little rumble instantly sparks a wave of goose bumps.
I clear my throat. “Why did you call?”
“I’m curious about this ex of yours,” he says without hesitation. “What’s so great that you want him back?”
“Logan is?—”
He snorts.
“What?”
“No, nothing.” But his voice is laced with humor. “Is he Logan the Second or the Third? I wouldn’t want to offend.”
“Second.”
Charlie’s low laugh skitters through the phone and down my spine.
“Shut up,” I add, but I’m smiling.
“Okay, so Sir Logan the Second makes your heart go pitter pat. Fine. What’s his deal? If he’s so amazing, why didn’t it work out?”
I take a deep breath as unease swirls in my stomach. Where do I even begin? So much of our story is wrapped up in how we grew up and what’s always been expected of us. I know exactly how Charlie feels about my last name—he’s not alone—but with Logan, I could forget all that.
“We dated for a year, and for the most part, it was great. Our parents are close, and I really wanted it to work with him. But eventually, he stopped wanting to try. I went to a doctor to find out what could be causing it, but there wasn’t anything physical stopping me. That only made me feel guiltier. He was right to leave. I can only imagine how frustrating it must have been.”
As patient as Logan was with me, I can’t blame him for wanting a partner who can satisfy him in every way. Knowing that I could have saved us, can save us, if only I could fix myself, nags at me.
“That’s complete and utter bullshit. He didn’t want to stay because he was, what? Mad he couldn’t get you there? Did he even give a shit about how you felt?”
“He tried,” I force out, pain lancing my chest with the memories. But what I really mean is I tried. And I failed.
“Not hard enough, in my opinion. If he really cared about you, don’t you think he would want you to enjoy yourself no matter the outcome? That he’d want to be with you in any way he could? He sounds like an asshole, and honestly, you deserve better.”
He sounds like Ivy.
“So that’s the sex. What else?”
“What do you mean?”
“You dated for a year, right? Relationships don’t just end because of that.”
Um.
Charlie curses down the phone.
The movie ends, and I find myself suggesting A Streetcar Named Desire next.
“If I tell you something, will you promise not to judge me?” I don’t even know why I’m asking; I know the answer before he says it.
“Of course,” he says.
I’m starting to suspect Charlie’s a hell of a lot sweeter than he’d let anyone believe.
“I really don’t like this movie. I’m only a fan of how Brando looks in that shirt and those double-pleated chinos.”
He laughs. “You’re a lecherous perv under all that glam, aren’t you?”
My cheeks are starting to hurt from smiling. “It’s my darkest secret.”
It’s not until Blanche calls Stanley a forceful Aries that Charlie brings up Logan again.
“I still don’t understand why you want this guy back. Anyone worth their salt would be able to satisfy you whether you come or not. You’re putting too much importance on it.”
“Not everyone is as enlightened as you.”
“No,” he says. “But I’ll get you there.”
I hope so.
“I have to admit, when you sent me this list, I was expecting it to come with a PowerPoint presentation and a roadmap.”
“Why? Are you worried you can’t find your way?”
He chuckles. “That’s not gonna be a problem.”
Goose bumps wash over me, and I’m suddenly aware of how little I’m wearing, as well as the reality that soon, Charlie will be seeing me in a lot less. Touching me.
I slip back under the covers. “My plans haven’t worked out so well, so I’d rather try something new.”
“You sure?”
“Yes, I’m sure. Are you going to argue with me the entire time?” I ask, although, honestly, why am I even surprised? Charlie loves to antagonize me. “Because I can find someone else.”
“Consent is a thing, you know. I’m not an asshole.”
I wince. Right, yes . “Of course, I’m sorry. Um, I need to be out of my head. Give up control. So, it’s up to you.”
“Sure thing, boss.”
“Stop calling me that,” I say, even though it thrills me to hear. I’m supposed to be taking a back seat here.
“All right, sweetheart.”
The shiver that runs through me is so strong I almost drop my phone.
There’s a rustle of sheets on his end of the phone, mingled with his steady breathing, as if he’s shifting, making himself comfortable. Suddenly, I want to know; what does someone like Charlie wear to bed? Sweats? Boxers? Nothing at all?
“All up to me, huh?” he asks, and it’s clear he’s smiling.
Giddiness kicks up in my belly. I hum, hiding my smile in my pillow. “Don’t make me regret it.”
“Or what?”
He’s a menace. “Have you always been this contrary? Your toddler years must have been on par with the Herculean labors.”
“Yeah, well,” he says, his tone gruff, “when you get tossed around the foster system from before you can talk, you learn to give back as good as you get.”
Oh.
“Charlie, I’m so s?—”
“Hey,” he says, cutting me off. “It’s late. Don’t worry about it. We should sleep. I’ll see you in the morning.”
A click, and I’m alone again, miserable because I’m starting to see just how much I’ve misjudged him.