“Damn it, Charlie, can’t you see I’m busy?” I say, grabbing the paper towels to clean up the mess.
She stands silent, and I glance sideways. The look on her face kills me. “I just need a moment, Charlie.”
“You know what, yeah, it's fine. Actually, I'm just gonna go,” she says, her voice an octave higher, as she drops a bag on the floor and her shoes squeak on the floor.
“Goddamnit, Charlie come back here,” I call after her, bending down and picking up the plastic bag. “What is this?” Opening it and walking after her, I stop. She brought me lunch.
“It’s a chicken salad,” she says, pausing at the door.
“You made me chicken salad?” I stare, dumbfounded.
“And brownies,” she sniffs, looking away from me, her face flushing with color.
“You didn’t have to,” I say and feel my heart sink in my chest. This is the opposite of what we need right now.
“I wanted to.” She looks back at me and her eyes glisten with tears. I didn’t want to make her cry.
“Charlie, the thing is.”
“There’s a thing?” She frowns.
“Yeah, there is,” I sigh, lowering the bag. “You and I… we can’t do this,” I say gesturing between us.
“Why not?” she asks.
“It’s not going to work. It can’t work.”
“We haven’t really tried,” she whispers, her lip trembling.
“Char―“
“Spare me the bull shit,” she snips, cutting me off before I can argue.
Closing my eyes, I pinch the bridge of my nose, standing in silence. “I need time to think.” Looking back up, I see her blonde hair flying behind her as she crosses the room and closes the shop door.
“Charlie!” I yell, jogging through the waiting room and dodging customers. “Charlie, wait.” I open the door and watch as she drives away.
Chapter Twenty
Noah
I screwed up. I know I did. Closing my eyes and pinching the bridge of my nose, I think back on some of our last moments together. I need to apologize, but apologies are hard for me. No one likes to be wrong― me, least of all. If I'm being honest with myself, I'm scared. I was scared of losing her, scared when I finally had her, and I’m scared now that I've pushed her away.
I've got to make it up to her somehow. Tell her I'm sorry. Turning down a street and into the neighborhood of Kenton and Lucy I groan as I see Kenton's voice cruiser is in the driveway.
Lucy called me last night and read me the riot act.
“She cries all the time. And when she's not crying, she sits quietly and looks out the window like some blonde Kristen Stewart, longing after Edward Cullen.”
“What?” I asked, confused.
“She's devastated. How could you do this to her; my best friend? The woman that you love?”
“What? I'm not in love with her, Lucy.”
“Yes you are. And don't bother lying to me. You are a terrible liar.”
I felt my stomach tighten as I closed my eyes, trying to remain calm. I don't like when Lucy talks to me that way.
“Dad, you were an idiot. You had something amazing and you threw it aside. Because we...You know what? I don't even know why you did it. All I know is that she's hurt, and you have to fix this.”
“Lucy,” I started. How do I find the words to tell her that I don't deserve Charlie? That she can do better than me? Find someone her own age who can make her happy?
“I feel like it's a family trait,” she interrupts me.
“What is?” I asked slowly.
“The inability to admit one's wrong. Abbie has an issue with it. God knows I do. So the question is do we get it from you or do we get it from mom?” she muses. “You need to go there, and you need to talk to her. You have to fix this or I'm never going to forgive you,” she says.
I leaned my head back against the sofa, willing myself not to put my head through the wall.
“Lucy.”
“I mean it, Dad. You broke it. Now you need to fix it. Otherwise, you're going to throw away the best thing that ever happened to you.”
That conversation is how I found myself here in the road, staring at Kenton's police cruiser. This is going to be even more difficult than I thought it would be because now we will have an audience.
Walking up the steps. I raise my hand and hesitate. Maybe I shouldn't do this. I should just let her go. She'll heal in time. Lowering my hand and telling myself I’m not a coward, I turn away from the steps and I freeze.
In the yard behind me having just returned from a winter jog, stands Charlie in her running shoes, light jacket, and yoga pants. Her hair is in a long ponytail that glistens as the sun hits it.
“Charlie,” I say, and the silence between us is tangible.
“What are you doing here?” she whispers.
“I came here to see you,” I admit, feeling lame.
“You didn't knock,” she says, walking past me to the front door and turning the handle.
“Yeah, I…” God, am I gonna tell her I chickened out? “Did you go for a run?” I ask changing the subject.
She looks down at her running shoes and back at me again. “Yeah, I went for a run.” She shrugs, turning her back on me and walking into the house, leaving the door open behind her.
Feeling no choice but to follow her, I tuck my hands in my pockets and scrape the snow from my shoes.
“Charlie,” I call after her. I feel my heart sink as Kenton rounds the corner. I can't catch a fucking break.
“Noah.” He nods.
“Kenton,” I say, feeling awkward. He stares at me for a moment, then nods his head and walks away.
While I wouldn't describe us as mortal enemies from childhood, he's definitely one of my least favorite people. However, after all that we've been through in the last year together, I think he and I have come to a mutual understanding. We lead very different lives. While we will never hang out socially, we can understand the joy the other person brings to the two girls that bind us.
I have been able to resolve my anger with him over his relationship with Lucy and it seems as though, for the time being, he can accept mine with Charlie. Personal growth, I think, and walk back through the house looking for the prettiest girl in the world.
“Charlie,” I call and walk smack into Lucy.
“Hey Dad.” She grins.
“Hey,” I mumble, looking around.
“Charlie's in the kitchen.” She smiles, then follows me. “Charlie, look who's here.” I cringe. Charlie knows exactly where I've been and she doesn't look up at me, just continues drinking coffee.
“Hey sweetie,” Kenton calls, walking into the kitchen and wrapping his arm around Lucy’s waist. “Remember that thing that I wanted to show you earlier?”
“Thing?” she asks, frowning at him.
“Yeah, the thing in the room.”
“Huh?” she asks, confused.
I close my eyes, utterly embarrassed.
“Just come on,” Kenton says, tugging her and taking her away.
Thank God for peace and quiet. Now I can deal with the real issue in front of me― the girl whose heart I broke.
“Charlie,” I start, walking toward her with my hands out as a sign of peace. “Charlie, I need to talk to you.”
“So talk,” she sasses, with a lift of her shoulder. She isn't going to make this easy for me. I can't really blame her.
“Charlie, I don't know how to start.” I swallow hard, placing my hands in my pockets and turning away from her, pacing the kitchen floor.
“You are so good,” I laugh, looking out the window at the falling snow. “Just innately kind and gentle. You're so different from me,” I say, lowering my head. “I don't feel good enough for you. How can I ever be good enough for you when we're so different,” I whisper, not sure if she's listening. “I spend so much time trying not to think about you because of our age difference and all the people in our lives. I think of Lucy and Kenton, th
en all I can think about is you. How wonderful you are. How you make every second of every day bearable. I feel tainted, deeply flawed,” I try to explain, pulling my hands out of my pockets and looking down at my palms. “These hands have done so much damage,” I admit, not looking at her. “These are the hands that almost killed the man that organized a major crime syndicate.”
“You didn’t kill him though,” she says.
“No. I could have though. I have a lot of issues, Charlie. I'm someone who was raised to believe that they would never be good enough or have any value. And while I know my dad is a miserable asshole, it still doesn't take away the years of abuse that still rattles around in my thick skull. When I'm with you, I see my own inadequacies.”
“So, you’re here to blame me for your insecurities,” she says, and my head whips up to look at her.
“No,” I protest a little offended. “I don't blame you for anything. Aren't you listening, I think you're incredible. If there is a God, he created the most perfect thing on earth. He sent me an angel to love,” I say, looking away from her and down on my hands again. “Love. That's a word I haven't said in a long time, Charlie. To anyone but my daughters. I haven't loved anyone since I lost their mother,” I admit, looking back out the window. “I never thought I could love again.”
“Noah,” she whispers. I look up at her and she has tears in her eyes. I have to look away. I can't see myself hurting her.
“I love you, Charlie. I love you so much more than I thought myself capable of. And when I'm with you, I feel whole. That is until I remember who I am and who you are.”
“Who I am,” she laughs, shaking her head and turning away from me to face the window over the sink. “Who I am is a woman in love with a man bent on thinking he's the scum of the earth. You have no idea how great you are.” She shakes her head, her voice sad. “I don't think you know how much you mean to me. I didn't want this either, Noah,” she admits glancing over her shoulder at me, and then looking away. “I tried to fight my feelings for you. I knew so many stories from my dad. And then the news, with your incarceration. But then when I was with you, you were so much different than what everyone said. I found myself remembering moments with you from my childhood. You’re not a bad man, Noah. You have a good heart. One just buried deep beneath this concrete exterior. I’m not asking you to change, Noah. I love you the way you are,” she whispers.
I feel my heart stutter. Did she say she loves me?
“I love you, too. And I think that’s a good thing,” she says turning quickly, her eyes filled with hot tears. “I’m not afraid that we will fail. I’m not afraid of anything when I’m with you except losing you.”
“Charlie,” I say, taking a step toward her. My hands reach as if they have a mind of their own and want to pull her close.
“You broke my heart,” she says first. “I never thought you would leave me.”
“Believe me, I didn't want to leave you,” I say, my voice choking as I'm overcome with deep emotion. “I never wanted that. I just didn't want to hurt you, so I pushed you away thinking it was for the best. But I know now that I'm wrong. We belong together, Charlie,” I say, moving closer and resting my hands on her hips. “We belong to each other. Forgive me, Charlie,” I whisper, my eyes searching her lovely face. “Forgive me and come home with me. Let me love you and do my best to deserve you,” I say, sliding my arm around her waist and pulling her closer, our bodies pressing together.
“Noah,” she whispers, sliding her hands around my neck. “Are you sure this is what you want? Because if we do this and you push me away again, it’ll kill me.”
“Yes, I'm sure. This is what I want. I want you forever. Always,” I say, sliding my hand up and resting at the back of her neck. I pull her close, pressing my lips against hers. My body immediately relaxes, and I realize this is all I need. I need her and she needs me too.
“I love you, Charlie,” I whisper, pulling myself back. “I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”
“Do you promise?” she asks, choking on tears that fall freely down her lovely cheeks.
“Yes, I promise.” Lowering my head and resting my forehead to hers. “More than that,” I let out a shaky breath, “I promise to love you until I die, and if there is life after this, I will love you then too,”
“Does this mean you’ll marry me?” she asks, her eyes searching my face.
“I don’t know. Do I have to ask Kenton his permission? He might say, ‘no,’” I tease, looking behind me to the living room where I know they are listening.
“He won’t,” she smiles brightly.
“Alright, I’ll ask him. But if he says no, then we’re running away to Vegas.”
“Deal.”
Epilogue
Charlie
I don't know that I've ever seen Lucy happier than she is right now. God, look at her, every bit the lovely bride in her A-line dress with her long dark hair pinned neatly in an elegant French twist. She turns to look at me.
“What do you think? Do I look okay?” she asks, and for the first time that I can remember, she looks nervous. She's always been so sure of herself.
“Lucy, you look incredible,” I say. My throat is tight with emotion. “I can't believe I'm saying this, but my dad is the luckiest man in the world.”
“Do you really think so?” Lucy asks, running her hands up and down her dress, looking back in the mirror.
“Yes, I do. And I know that you will be a great stepmom.”
“Oh my god,” she laughs. “Don't even say that. Can you imagine the look on your mom's face if she heard you call me mom?”
“Yeah,” rolling my eyes, “she's not taking the whole thing too well. But it doesn't matter what she thinks. What matters is what you and my dad think. I'm happy for you.” I reach over and arrange the train of the gown.
Looking around the room, I see Abbie walking through the bathroom door in her soft blue bridesmaid dress. She looks radiant.
“Look at us,” Abbie squeals, sliding her arm around our waists, turning to examine us in the mirror. “Can you believe that we're grown? Two of the three of us are married. Well, almost winging it.” She winks at Lucy.
“I know, it seems like yesterday we were running wild through the woods, playing kiss-marry-kill. It goes by so fast.” Lucy smiles.
“Remember when Charlie chose 'kiss,' for dad?” Abbie teases. “To think it was prophetic.”
“I know, I was so grossed out. Like, the obvious choice was to kill him,” Lucy replies.
“Oh, God, I forgot all about that,” I say, smiling at our reflection.
We make quite the picture with the three of us side by side in elegant gowns and the bouquets that Lucy insisted we all have. It reminds me of my future, walking down the aisle to Noah.
Looking down at the small diamond on my left hand, I sigh as Lucy and Abbie talk about their honeymoon. In a few short months, it'll be my turn; and I'll become Charlotte Knight. I like that.
“So, what kind of dress are you going to wear?” Abbie asks me.
“Um,” I say, looking down at the soft blue bridesmaid's dress. “I'm not really sure. I don't know that I'll go in white. No offense,” I say back to Lucy, who shrugs, not offended. “Maybe an off-white blush, I think.” Turning in a circle I examine myself.
“I like that. I think blush would go well with your blonde hair and freckles.” Lucy nods. “And instead of an A-line, I feel like you could pull off a mermaid,”
“A mermaid?” I say with a frown.
“Yeah, you're tall and slim, and let's face it, you don't have much in the way of curves. So I think that it would fit you very nicely. So keep that in mind.”
“Lucy, you shouldn't have said that,” Abbie whispers, “now she's going to make you wear something horrid like puce.”
“Is that really a color?” Lucy wonders. “I've never actually seen the color puce.”
“That's because it's so awful. No one uses it,” Abbie mumbles, reaching dow
n and picking up a small box on the dresser. “I have something for you,” she says, glancing up at Lucy.
“What is it?” Lucy ask.
“Something borrowed, something blue.” She smiles, and Lucy frowns.
“What is it?” see repeats opening the box.
I step closer to get a better view— a small blue butterfly comb.
“Abbie,” Lucy gasps, covering her mouth in her hands.
“It was moms. I don't know if you remember that. It's something she would wear on special occasions. Dad got it for her when they were eighteen.”
“That's really sweet,” I say, taking a step closer and reaching down, and carefully taking the blue comb.
“It doesn't bother you, does it?” Lucy asks, looking at me.
“Why would it bother me?” I ask, lifting the comb to hold it in a light, admiring the shimmering blue and silver dots.
“Well we are talking about our mom so much, and about how dad loved her, or how he kept this from when they were young…” Lucy trails off.
“No,” I say, full of surprise. “Why would I be upset by that?”
“I don't know; I just know that sometimes people struggle with hearing and talking about past loves, or their children talking about their mom,” Lucy shrugs.
I laugh, shaking my head. “No, I am one-hundred-percent okay with the memory of your mother being treasured; she was terrific. I remember her,” I say, handing the blue comb back to Abbie. “I think she would be so happy for you. She would be proud of you all.
“Proud of us,” Abbie corrects, looking in the mirror.
“I think so too,” Lucy says, smiling at Abbie, who slides the blue butterfly clip into Lucy's hair.
“Oh, god, Lucy. You look so pretty.”
“Thank you.” Lucy smiles, reaching for a tissue and blowing her nose. “Okay, That's enough of that,” Lucy says. “I can't have red eyes and a puffy nose on my wedding day.”
A knock at the door pulls my attention from my best friends. Turning, I call, “It's open!”
“Oh good,” my favorite voice replies, and I feel my heart skip a beat as Noah walks in. God, he looks fantastic, in that suit tailored to fit perfectly over his lean body. The gray pinstripe is accentuating the silver in his eyes.
CONVICT Page 14