Chapter Seventeen
When she inhaled half of it in one long draught, he was glad he’d left earlier than usual to get it. It looked like she needed the caffeine hit almost as much as he did.
Sleeping in his own bed once again should have guaranteed he’d fall asleep fast and stay that way all night, especially since he hadn’t had more than two or three hours a night since the flight back from Aruba.
But it hadn’t. The minute his head hit the pillow and his eyes closed, Charity’s face popped to the front of his mind and would not leave.
God, he’d been so happy to see her.
The bad mood he’d woken yesterday morning with, caused by arguing with both his mother and the psych doctor in charge of her care the evening before, had taken a lot out of him.
Frustration, when mixed with exhaustion and anger, was a cocktail made to ensure a surly attitude.
Coupled with his mother’s continued harangue and protests to be released from the facility on her own recognizance whenever he visited, had also taken an emotional toll.
She’d never been this bad for this long.
In the past, once she was back on her meds, within twenty-four to thirty-six hours, she had her thoughts, emotions, and movements under control again.
Not this time.
One week in and she was still rambling, fighting, and exhibiting signs of paranoia the likes of which he’d never seen from her before.
It was no wonder he’d lost weight. The knots in his stomach grew larger and tighter every time he visited or spoke with the psychiatrist assigned to his mother. He couldn’t eat, fearful it would just come back up.
But the moment he saw Charity walking toward him in the parking lot, for the first time in the days since he’d seen her last, he was able to take a full breath and quiet his mind of the chaos blowing through it.
It had taken most of the day to shed his truculent mood, but when he walked into her apartment, his entire body grew lighter.
And lighter and lighter as the all-too-brief dinner went on.
Her confession about what she wanted in her life, for her future, how she wanted to be loved, touched him in ways he couldn’t understand.
He’d told her she deserved everything and more, and she did.
Somewhere during her revelations, he’d wondered if she’d ever see him as a man who could give all those things to her.
The thought had his stomach clenching as if he’d been sucker-punched.
That he wanted to give her all those things was astounding. Kolby never intended to be someone’s forever love. He could be honest with himself and say he was too scared to consider a future like that. The reason was easy and centered on his mother.
No woman would want to take on the burden of a mentally ill mother-in-law. Coupled with that was the fear that one day he’d start to exhibit the same illness that afflicted her, even though he knew the window for it happening for the first time was now pretty much closed.
At thirty-six he’d never once had any kind of an episode like his mother had from the time he’d been a boy.
Kolby was mostly assured his mental status was unafflicted.
But mostly wasn’t 100% and he wouldn’t inflict any woman he cared about with the thought it could still surface.
Charity’s revelations about her conflicted feelings for Tom – and yes, he called him the wrong name on purpose, just like she’d accused him of doing – were telling, and in the back of his mind he felt hopeful.
If he were a commitment kind of man, if he’d let himself be, he knew he could give her everything she wanted, including the reason he smiled when he thought about her.
That one he already did.
He’d called her the best friend he’d ever had, realizing the moment the words were spoken how true they were.
With Charity, he could be himself, something he found fascinating.
She obviously preferred the real him to the swaggering, flirtatious mien he’d adopted over the years to hide all his anxiety about his mother and his childhood.
Being with her was equal parts relaxing and enervating.
Comfortable and familiar. It was also sexually frustrating because every time she lapsed into her natural voice and cadence, all he could think about was hauling her into his arms, stripping them both bare and making love to her for as long as the two of them lasted before passing out from sexual exhaustion.
And if he tried to do that, he imagined the well-aimed dropkick to his balls she’d use to emasculate him mentally and damage him physically.
Calling her a friend had been his truth. But he’d left out the other part of that truth, not certain he could reveal it. Now, or ever.
He was falling for Charity, had been for months. In fact, he told himself when he went through the drive-thru to pick up their coffees, he’d already fallen.
Working in the same space every day, he’d come to know all her habits, all her little tics and tells.
And yet, he’d discovered so much more about her in the past few weeks.
Her fear of flying; her reasons and motivation for being in control of herself and everything around her.
The unwavering love and loyalty she had for her family.
He was enthralled to discover she was witty.
Initially, he’d thought she was a stuck-up little thing, with a female Napoleon complex due to her lack of height.
Someone who never cracked a smile until it was necessary.
He’d thought her cold and even a bit conceited because she was always done up to perfection, makeup in place and fresh, hair shining and falling just right, like she was an ad model and contracted to never have a split end.
Now? Every one of those preconceptions had burned to ash.
Charity Quinlan was neither cold nor conceited nor calculating.
She was a spitfire, for sure, with a quick temper that he just adored igniting. But she was also warm and caring, willing to drop everything to help a friend, even one she felt some animosity toward.
Charity was the first woman in his adult life he could envision saying aloud the words he’d never spoken to any woman, never felt for any woman. To say he was terrified of that was an understatement.
She grinned when her appreciative sigh slipped past her lips.
“Thank you,” she said.
“Figured you could use the jolt. It’s gonna be a long day and the weather report said it’s heading into the scorcher zone.” He flicked his gaze over her thin-strapped sundress and high ponytail and kitten-heel sandals. She was dressed for it.
“Let’s hope the bride and groom want a lot of inside pictures.”
“Doubtful, since it’s at the inn. The gazebo and grounds make for pretty photos, you know that.”
Another sigh, then a sip of the coffee and a head nod. “Yeah, I do.”
They were silent on the drive to Inn Heaven, where the bridal party was staying. They’d be taken to the Pearly Gates church at nine-thirty for the ten a.m. ceremony then back to the inn for the reception.
“I’m certainly seeing a lot of you two lately,” Maureen said with a smile when she greeted them at the front door.
“Thank your sister for that.” Charity pecked her cheek. “She talks this place up to every couple she contracts with.”
“And you’ll hear no complaints from me.”
“How is she doing?” Charity asked. “I’ve been meaning to check in, but,” she lifted her hands in a what-can-I-say move.
Maureen smiled and shook her head. “You know Colleen. One minute she’s sweetness and light, the next she’s scowling.
Pregnancy jumbles her emotions. Thank goodness Slade is the patient type because he’s the only one who can talk her off a ledge when she gets going.
But her due date is around the corner, and her doc thinks she’ll go on time like she did with the first kidlets, so there’s some light at the end of her bad mood tunnel. ”
“I can’t wait for her to come back to work,” Charity said, making Kolby stare down at her. For someone who liked being in charge and in control, that was surprising to hear.
“She’s so good at smoothing things over with clients when emotions are running high or problems arise.”
“That’s the control freak in her. Cathy calls it Colleen’s true alpha coming out.”
He laughed because...truth.
“Come on,” Maureen said, guiding them into the kitchen. “Coffee’s fresh and hot and I made muffins last night. Help yourself.”
“I never pass up the offer of anything you bake.” Kolby grabbed a muffin from the plate and ate half of it in one bite.
Charity refilled the coffee mug.
“You should eat something,” he told her. “Long day.”
She pouted. “I know, but Maureen’s muffins are deadly. One is never enough.”
“This is a new recipe,” she told them from the stove. “And you know everything’s organic in them.”
“I do, but still. Everything you bake is like a potato chip.”
“What?” he asked around another mouthful of muffin.
“It’s impossible to stop at just one.”
Since he already had another in his hand, he couldn’t argue with her.
“Here." Maureen handed her a plate. “Breakfast is laid for the guests. Have some egg whites. Fresh fruit is in the breakfast room, too, if you want any.”
“I adore you,” Charity said, her smile beaming as she took the plate and utensils.
The quick jab to his abdominal muscles had him wishing for a day she’d look at him with the same reverence in her eyes.
If only wishes came true.
***
“Okay, Maureen’s going to bring the cake out after the band finishes this set,” Charity told him many hours later.
The ceremony had gone off without a hitch, and he’d gotten some great shots, especially of the four-year-old ring bearer and the twin three-year-old flower girls all dissolving into giggles on the altar.