Cut Free (The Sublime Book 4)

by Julia Wolf

  At work, I happened to look out the window at the exact time he was walking out of his shop. Our eyes met for the briefest moment, and my heart ached, so I looked away. If I couldn’t be with him, I didn’t want to see him.

  I scrubbed the salon from top to bottom after the last client left. Rachel was sitting at the front desk doing payroll while I mopped.

  “Any presents from Charlie this morning?” she asked.

  “No. I don’t need presents. The notes, though…” I shook my head.

  “That good?”

  “Charlie gives good note. He left me one after that first day in the music shop. I have a whole collection from him.”

  “That’s so sweet. One might even say romantic.” Rachel waggled her eyebrows at me, making me laugh.

  “There’s no doubt he’s romantic. And it doesn’t even feel like he’s trying to be romantic, he just is, you know?”

  She nodded. “He’s one of the good ones, E. He’s definitely no Edward.”

  I sighed. “I know. But what he did...it reminded me so much of Edward and my parents. It triggered a lot of feelings I hadn’t faced. That I didn’t want to face.”

  “Losing your parents?”

  I looked down at my mop. “Yeah.”

  Rachel came around the desk and wrapped me in her arms. “Joe and I will always be your family. It’s a permanent thing, no conditions. I know it’s not the same as having your parents, but you’ll never be alone. Got it?”

  I nodded against her shoulder. “Got it. It’s not the same—it’s so much better.”

  Rachel and I left the salon together, and when we got to my building, we both saw the brown paper bag sitting on my steps.

  Rachel gasped. “Oh! What’s in it?”

  I pulled the bag open and peeked inside, a delicious smell wafting up. “He left me dinner!”

  She clutched her chest. “I’m not going to say anything, but do you hear that sound? It’s my heart going pitter-patter.”

  I swatted at her. “Get out of here, you!”

  Laughing and running away, she called, “See you tomorrow!”

  I took my bag into the kitchen and removed the take-out container. Inside was a grilled chicken breast on a bed of brown fried rice. It looked healthy, yet more delicious than anything I’d make myself.

  At the bottom of the bag was a note.

  Dear Eliza,

  Did it hurt to look at me today? It hurt me when you looked away. Will I have you again? I know you said to give you a week, but will I get to have you when the week’s over? I love you.

  Remember at the race track, when you asked me to say something in Japanese?

  Mitame yori naimen no hō ga zutto suteki desu. It means your inside is even more beautiful than your outside. I hardly knew you then, but I could see it. And now that I know your story, I’m even more blown away by you. That you were able to stay optimistic and open-hearted after everything you’ve been through says a lot about you.

  You’re strong, Eliza. Stronger than anyone I know. And that’s why I pushed, because you are so strong. I didn’t see that the spot I was pushing was your tender underbelly, the part that isn’t protected. I get it now. I see you.

  Enjoy your dinner. It’s the healthy shit you love!

  Hya-kko no hāto demo, kimi o aishite iru to iu no wa hyōgen shi tsukusenai. (A hundred hearts would be too few to carry my love for you.)

  Love,

  Charlie Hamada

  Three more days, and I could go to him and try to fix this. But there was a long, twenty-six-mile road ahead of me. One I’d have to travel alone. Once I did that, conquered it, then I’d be brave enough to take another chance with my heart.

  Twenty-Eight

  Two days until the marathon. Five days without Charlie.

  A pounding on my door woke me up. I’d been having the best dream involving Charlie, a yellow convertible, and a deserted parking lot. Now, I was both groggy and turned on, shuffling to my door.

  A man in a delivery uniform, holding a clipboard, was standing on my landing.

  “Yes?”

  He cleared his throat. “You Eliza Goldberg?”

  I nodded.

  “I’ve got a delivery for you.”

  “Okay.”

  He pushed the clipboard at me. “Read over this and sign. Me and the guys will bring it up.”

  He ran down my steps, and I looked at the paper he’d handed me. He was from a...piano delivery company? Had Charlie done this? My stomach dropped. This was way too much.

  It was on the tip of my tongue to deny the delivery, but when the four men started carrying the piano up my stairs, I choked back a sob. It was my piano. The one I’d left at Edward’s house.

  “Where do you want it?” the man asked.

  I looked around my tiny apartment. There really wasn’t any room, but I’d squish furniture together to make a spot for my piano.

  The guys helped me push my couch against a wall and the piano just fit. It was crowded, but my gorgeous piano looked perfect there.

  I picked up the clipboard again to sign for the delivery. I’d been so distracted before by the name of the company, I hadn’t noticed who’d paid for the delivery. When I saw the name, I almost dropped the clipboard.

  Edward.

  Obviously, it was Edward. It really couldn’t have been anyone other than him. For some reason, it hadn’t occurred to me he’d been the one to send it, though. Why would he do that after all this time?

  Before I could talk myself out of it, I picked up my phone and dialed his number.

  “Eliza,” he answered.

  “Hi, Eddie.”

  “Did you get the delivery?”

  “The movers just left. Thank you. You don’t know how grateful I am to have my piano back.”

  He huffed. “Well, it’s yours. I had no use for it. And I do remember how much you loved that thing.”

  “It means a lot. I thought you would have sold it or something.”

  It was strange talking to him again. But at the same time, it wasn’t. We’d been together for so long, the small part of me that had once loved him sometimes missed hearing his voice.

  “Why would I do that? It wasn’t mine to sell.”

  Instead of answering his question, I asked, “How are you?”

  He was quiet for a while, but I could hear him taking long, deep breaths. “I’m okay. Actually, I’m really good now. But it took a long time to get there. What happened?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, one day you were there, and the next day, this huge guy is coming to take you away. You never said you wanted to break up or you were unhappy. After six years, you were just gone.”

  Tears burned at the back of my eyes. “I wasn’t happy, Eddie. I tried so hard to be who you wanted, but that wasn’t me.”

  “You changed.”

  “I did. And you tried to get me to stay how I was when we met. I was stifled. I couldn’t breathe.”

  “You never said anything.” His voice was gruff, full of emotion.

  “It wouldn’t have mattered. You wanted a girl you could take to the club, a girl your parents approved of. I’m not that. I should have talked to you, tried to explain, but in the end, I was so panicked, I had to get out and cut every tie.”

  “I was a piece of shit to you those last couple years. We had good times, though, didn’t we?” he asked.

  “Of course we did. And I really did love you. And I know you felt the same pressure I did. It was wearing. I couldn’t do it anymore.”

  He let out a long sigh. “I couldn’t either.”

  “You couldn’t?”

  “No. I started seeing someone not on the club-approved list. You actually know her.”

  My eyebrows shot up. I hadn’t expected that. “Who?”

  “Victoria.”

  I laughed. I should have known when she kept mentioning Edward the last time I cut her hair.

  “She’s lovely. Not Jewish, though.”


  He chuckled. “No, not at all. I don’t really care, though. She’s worth everything.”

  “She knows I can’t cut her hair anymore, right?”

  “Oh, she knows. She made it abundantly clear what a sacrifice she was making for me.”

  I smiled to myself. “Good. You need a woman who will make you work. I’m happy for you.”

  “It was good to talk to you.”

  “You too. We’re not going to be friends or anything, though.”

  He scoffed. “No shit.”

  “Bye, Eddie.”

  “See ya around, Eliza.”

  That was unexpected, but also freeing. I’d carried guilt for how I’d ended things with Edward, just cutting him out without any explanation. At the time, I didn’t think I needed to explain myself, but looking back, I realized I’d hidden a lot of my unhappiness from him. He’d wanted to get married and I’d wanted to run away.

  I sat down at my piano and ran my hands across the cool keys. Edward hadn’t treated me well, there was no debating that, but I’d played a part in the breakdown of our relationship too, and I was just coming to terms with it.

  The only way I could be happy with someone else, with Charlie, was if I was able to be honest about who I was. I wanted that with Charlie. We were still working on it, but we could get there. Frannie was right. She got me, but she’d known me for years. I sometimes forgot how new Charlie and I were because I’d fallen so deeply in love with him. But just because we were in love didn’t mean we didn’t have work to do.

  I played my piano for a while, and when I dragged myself away to get ready for work, I felt more centered than I had in a long time. I had my piano and I’d gotten closure with Edward. It was going to be okay.

  When I got home from work, there was a note waiting for me.

  Dear Eliza,

  It’s hard to compete with a piano.

  I love you. I miss you. I’m counting the seconds.

  Love,

  Charlie Hamada

  I sat down on my step, holding the note. Oh, Charlie. I would never want to hurt him on purpose, no matter what our relationship status was. And this note was him hurting. I could almost feel it in the paper.

  Searching in my purse, I found a little notebook and pen and scribbled a note for him.

  Dear Charlie,

  There’s no competition.

  I love you too. I miss you too. We’ll talk after the race.

  Love,

  Eliza Goldberg

  I ran across the street and shoved my note through his mail slot, hoping he’d see it tonight. I wanted him to know he wasn’t alone in this, that I ached for him too.

  One day until the marathon. Six days without Charlie.

  After work, I ran home to pack a bag since I was spending the night at Frannie’s. The start of the race was close to her condo and it started bright and early, so it only made sense. Plus, she was my back-up plan if the alarms on my phone and Fitbit and portable clock didn’t go off.

  I was nervous. So nervous. But a little tiny bit excited too.

  There was a package leaning against my door. I laid it down on the kitchen counter and backed up a step. From the feel of it, I knew it was a painting. From the messy scrawl on the attached note, I knew it was from Charlie. My throat was tight with emotion and I hadn’t even opened it yet.

  I read his note first.

  Dear Eliza,

  I wish more than anything I was running with you tomorrow. But I’m going to be there, every step of the way, cheering you on. You are going to rock that race. You’ve run 20 miles, what’s 6.2 more? Nothin’. You got this!

  Blink once if you believe you can do it. You blinked, right? I’m blinking like crazy over here because I know you can do it!

  The first time I painted you was the first time you slept in my bed. I haven’t stopped painting you since. I’m giving you the painting I did of you this week. This is how I see you.

  I love you.

  Love,

  Charlie Hamada

  He painted me. My beautiful, insanely talented man painted me. I didn’t know how to process that.

  Unable to wait a second longer, I ripped open the packaging and there it was. There I was. There were swirls of black and purple behind me, with bold slashes of red and blue. In the center of it all was my face, bare, and with an expression so fierce, I almost didn’t recognize it as me. I looked like a strong warrior ready for battle. And the black was behind me, my past.

  He saw me. Charlie really saw me. He recognized a quality in me that I was only just discovering, and he’d turned it into a beautiful painting.

  How could I not go to him?

  I scribbled two sentences on a piece of paper and I’d barely taken a breath before I was across the street, knocking at his door.

  When he opened it, I almost forgot the paper I was holding. I hadn’t seen him up close for a week and he looked tired, pained. But when he saw it was me standing there, the smile that spread across his face broke my heart and put me back together.

  “Eli—”

  I put my finger to his lips and handed him the note I was holding. He looked from me to the note and then back to me. I watched him process what I’d written, my body buzzing with the need I felt for him.

  Finally, he looked up and held his arms out. I breathed a long sigh of relief and walked into them, nestling into my favorite part of his chest while he wrapped me in a tight hug.

  The note said:

  I don’t want to talk tonight, but I love you so much, I can’t stand not being in your arms for one more second.

  Can you hold me, just for a little bit?

  I wasn’t sure how long we stood there, but it was a long while. We held each other, not speaking with words, but with the beating of our hearts and our slow, steady breaths. None of what happened the week before seemed important right then. Only these minutes and Charlie’s warm arms around my body meant anything.

  I pulled back just enough so I could look up at him. He gazed down at me, his eyes full of everything I wasn’t letting him say. I heard it just the same.

  “I’m going to spend the night with Frannie. I got the painting, and I just—”

  He rested his forehead on mine. “It’s okay, this is enough.”

  His shoulders curled forward, a deep sigh shuddering through his chest.

  “I love you, Charlie. I won’t ever stop.”

  He pulled me into his chest again and nodded into my hair.

  “I love you too, Eliza. I only—I need you. That’s it.”

  I didn’t know what to say, so I held him even tighter and listened to the beating of his heart. He ran his hands over my back and shoulders, then slid them through my short hair.

  “I like this,” he whispered.

  When I smiled up at him and he booped my nose, I knew everything would be all right. We were Eliza and Charlie, Charlie and Eliza. Ours was a love based on friendship and laughter. Our love was lighthearted and liberating. The past week had been heavy, but it was an aberration, one I hoped we would learn from and leave in the past.

  “I really have to go,” I said, but my arms had a mind of their own and they weren’t letting go.

  Charlie cupped my cheeks. “You’re going to destroy that marathon. You know that, right?”

  I nodded, because the way he said it, I believed him.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow?” I asked.

  He squeezed both of my hands. “Break my bones and you still won’t keep me away.”

  I winced and looked down at his casted foot. “Are you okay?”

  He chuckled. “I’m a fuckin’ idiot, but I’m fine. It’ll heal.”

  “And you’ll be running with me again?”

  “Hell yes I will. You think I’d miss a chance to see you in those leggings?”

  A surprised laugh burst out of me. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Charlie.”

  “I’ll see you tomorrow, Eliza.”

  I tore myself away then. Not because I want
ed to. No, I wanted nothing more than to stay with him, to fall in bed and make love for days. And I hoped that would happen soon, but not tonight.

  First, I had to slay this mountain of miles, and then I would have my reward—my Charlie.

  Twenty-Nine

  My alarms went off. All three of them, plus Frannie jumping on top of me, yelling, “Get your ass out of bed!”

  I had laid all my clothes out the night before, with my race number already pinned to my shirt, so I was dressed and at the starting line early. I’d read everything I could about marathons, because over-planning was just who I was, so I was as prepared as humanly possible. I hoped.

  The day was beautiful—crisp and clear—and it was hard not to stop and appreciate my surroundings. I was warming up with four thousand other runners outside of Baltimore’s iconic baseball stadium, Camden Yards, waiting to run together through the city. I wished Charlie was with me, but I didn’t feel alone. There was a buzz of camaraderie in the air, as if we were all in this together.

  And then, before I knew it, we were running. I pushed my sunglasses down over my eyes and popped in my earbuds. I had my podcasts cued up to entertain me over the next four and a half hours while I pushed my body past all its limits.

  I started slow. Much slower than I usually ran. My legs were protesting, screaming to move faster, but I didn’t listen. The plan was to steadily build up steam, not lose it way too soon.

  The first ten miles were bliss. I was full of adrenaline and the course was fun. We ran through the Maryland Zoo, right past the penguins. In my mind, I imagined Charlie saying they dressed up for the occasion, waddling around in tiny tuxedos.