Chapter 30
T he next week melted into a productive haze peppered with meetings, wrangling utilities, and wandering around Lands with Gregory. Their walks continued to start with them checking on the progress of construction in Under the Waves and giving notes, but now they tended to end with Charlotte leading him into an out-of-the-way corner where she could bury her fingers in his soft hair and drag him close. She could no longer pretend she was going to maintain any kind of work-and-dating line. This rush of sentiment and happiness with Gregory defied logic and lists. It was worth chasing.
They’d make their new status public soon since Charlotte didn’t like keeping secrets from her family, but for now, it was only theirs and she liked it that way. It didn’t keep her from testing Gregory’s poker face during meetings when she’d sneak in an occasional knee squeeze. If she didn’t stop, her aunt and uncle were going to ask why Gregory had developed a twitch in his face. At least they could blame it on stress. Even in the brief time since they’d been back, Charlotte and Gregory had addressed one problem after another—everything from conversations with the municipality about the additional load on the power grid that Emily had mentioned, to a delayed delivery of concrete stamps Charlotte wanted to use to add a permanent scavenger hunt element to the land, to putting off giving an answer about Peak Fusion to Emily and Ian for one more day. The phone calls, pages over the walkie-talkies, and emails never ended. They closed each day exhausted, and Charlotte wished they could go back to the Dreamland bubble and never leave.
But not really. The work might be draining, but she took pride in it. Still, as she ran through her day’s list while lounging in her own bed one morning after they got back from Dreamland, Charlotte had to remind herself that adoring the work didn’t mean it should be her whole life.
To that end, she closed her list app and opened her messages.
Charlotte: Hey, want to wrap up work at a reasonable hour later today and have a picnic?
Three dots appeared immediately.
Gregory: Picnics. Eating food on the ground on purpose?
She scoffed.
Charlotte: That’s typically how it works.
Gregory: I know.
Gregory: I’m teasing. I love a picnic.
Gregory: Where did you have in mind?
Charlotte: A small clearing in the state park we hiked at.
Gregory: That we walked at.
Charlotte: Fine. WALKED at.
Charlotte: The spring ephemerals are in bloom now too.
Gregory: Charlotte.
Charlotte: Hmm?
Gregory: You cannot casually drop the words “spring ephemerals” in texts and expect me to contain myself around you later.
When they were at The Book Loft, Charlotte had gotten him a book on Ohio’s native wildflowers, and he’d been sharing fun facts with her ever since. His sincere glee over the flowers blooming right now was so sweet.
Charlotte: I learned from the best.
Gregory:
Charlotte: See you at work soon. We have the latest attendance projection numbers to review.
Gregory: I can think of a lot of things we have to review.
Madmartigan stepped onto her chest, somehow channeling every bit of his mass into two paws pressing on her sternum. He rubbed his face against her phone and pushed it out of the way. She let him settle and welcomed the excuse to stay in bed a little longer.
She headed to the office around midmorning in a leisurely mood, dropping off a cup of coffee to Owen and detouring to wind through Forgotten Beasts while she sipped a coffee of her own. The early spring air was crisp this early in the day with a light breeze rustling through the branches, so completely perfect she wished she could bottle it.
When she got to her desk, she opened her laptop, logged in, and then cracked open the nearby window. Her eyes scanned over the subjects of her still-loading emails: Under the Waves graphics, a storage bill, Dreamland Paris.
No, she thought, one of these things is not like the others. She stopped skimming and focused, opening her eyes wide enough to displace a contact lens. The beginning-of-March deadline had passed, and she hadn’t bugged Chad for fear of coming across as needy. But now? Now Chad was finally getting back to her? The timing.
She needed more coffee before she faced whatever her ex had to say about her job application.
As she dumped out the dregs of the pot someone had started earlier it the morning—her uncle, if she had to guess by the potent and bitter smell—she heard her new favorite voice.
“Thank God someone else is making the coffee,” Gregory said from behind her. “Frank is a hell of a nice guy, but his coffee-grounds-to-water ratio leaves much to be desired.”
“You’re telling me,” Charlotte said as she stood on her tiptoes to reach the filters.
Gregory reached above her and handed a filter down. “Allow me. I’ll also move them to a place that doesn’t require a step stool to access.”
“Thank you,” she said as she took it. “You know, there’s always the option of not drinking the coffee when Uncle Frank makes it.”
“Nah, I don’t want to offend him,” Gregory said. “Plus even terrible coffee is still coffee. It’s nothing a little—no, a lot—of half-and-half can’t fix. But enough coffee talk.”
“Mmmhmm.” Gregory stood in front of her and leaned toward her, placing one hand on either side of her on the counter. Charlotte looked down to each side.
“Wow, you really were turned on by me mentioning wildflowers.” she said.
He answered by dipping his head down and pressing his lips against her neck right behind her ear. The feel of his breath had Charlotte arching into the kiss and he had his hands on her bottom in a second, lifting her onto the counter. She wound her arms around his torso and pressed against him while he trailed kisses around the base of her neck and collarbone. But the line of heat igniting along her skin brought Chad’s email to the front of her mind. That could mean the end of moments like this.
She couldn’t make out with him with this on her mind. Breathless, she said, “Gregory, I support this uncharacteristically impulsive behavior, but let’s save it for later.”
He paused and nodded. “You’re right. Not here.” His voice was a growl. “Later.” He kissed her forehead.
Charlotte hoped for many laters but knew it might depend on Chad’s email. She’d once been so excited to get a reply about the possible job, but now she was afraid to open it. Afraid of the decision she’d have to make.