My phone buzzed as I slumped against the couch and I picked it up, trying to ignore the fact that my heart was hammering in my chest, hoping it was her. Jesus, Sean. Snap the fuck out of it.
Charlotte: Run tomorrow after work?
Sean: Who is this?
Charlotte: It’s Char
Sean: I didn’t realize you were still speaking to me.
Charlotte: Of course I am. Are we running this week or not?
Sean: Sure.
There was nothing after that. A measure of relief crept over me that she’d finally gotten in touch, but I refused to let my guard down enough to be comforted by it. Because I’d realized something today, as I’d nursed my bruised ego while nursing several beers: I’d never gotten over Charlotte.
And she’d never done anything but end up disappointing me.
CHARLOTTE
I didn’t know which was worse: being mean to Sean or missing him. They both sucked. I’d hurt him this morning—I’d seen it on his face. But I’d done it for a good reason.
Not that I could tell him, or make it any better.
My crazy ex-boyfriend Chris, aka Mr. Douchepants, had called me late last night. He’d been drunk. He’d been crying.
Worst of all, he’d made me realize some things.
After Sean had dropped me off, I checked my phone and noticed that I had nine missed calls from Chris. I was so glad I hadn’t heard the phone, as I had nothing to say to him. There were also twenty texts. The texts had gone from conversational to worse. He’d accused me of all sorts of things: moving on with someone new. Not caring about what I’d done to him. Being a whore.
It was the ‘You’re a whore’ text that prompted me to answer his call at three a.m. Because I sure as hell had something to say about that.
But I hadn’t managed to get a word in edgewise, because Mr. Douchepants was crying too hard. “I love you so much, baby. I can’t stand it,” he said in between sobs. Chris went on and on, saying how lonely he was without me, saying how is life was ruined since I left. My ego would’ve had a lovely boost if the whole thing hadn’t been so disturbing and sad…along with the fact that he’d accused me of being a whore via text.
He blathered on and I realized that I no longer cared to argue with him about any of it. “I have to go,” I finally managed to squeeze in.
“But baby, I need you—” Chris had started again, but I hung up before I had to listen to anymore. Baby, baby, baby.
Chris was the baby. His tears weren’t even about me, although I’m sure he didn’t see it that way. Chris was upset about Chris, and he was obsessing over me and blaming me for his problems because it was easier than dealing with the fact that he had issues. He wanted me to come back because he thought that I could “fix” him. I got it. I understood. That sort of magical thinking was an easy way to distract yourself from what was really going on. That you had problems. That you had issues. That it was nobody’s fault but your own.
Facing the truth about who you were sucked.
I was facing the truth about myself right now, as I laced up my sneakers and prepared to meet Sean. It did suck—in fact, it sucked big, hairy balls. I’d pulled away from Sean this morning for this very reason. I wanted nothing more than to throw myself into his arms and have him hold me and tell me that Chris’s emotional meltdown wasn’t my fault and that everything would be okay and that he would make it all go away.
But I couldn’t do that. I couldn’t let him do that.
I hadn’t dealt with my past cleanly, but I was going to. Hearing from Chris again the same night I’d gone to the party with Sean had made it clear to me. Since I’d left home, I’d only dated men who were disappointing. I’d left the one guy who’d ever been right for me behind. My judgment had been horrendous. I needed to get my head on straight before I attempted another relationship.
I wasn’t going to drag Sean into my problems. He deserved much better than that. I wouldn't go running to him; I would go running with him, we could have coffee occasionally, and that was it. Until I cleaned up my mess and my head on my own, he was going to be relegated to the friend zone.
Even though I wanted him just about everywhere else. Bad.
Sean was quiet when we met up in the park after work. “How are you?” he asked, a bit formally.
“Fine. How’re you?”
“Just great,” he said, the grumpiness rolling off of him.
We were quiet for three mile loop after that, the awkward silence punctuated only by our heavy breathing. Gypsy stopped to pee and I finally turned to Sean, my heart aching. “I'm sorry about yesterday morning.”
“What about it?” He wouldn't look at me, he just concentrated on stretching.
I sighed as we started running again. “Nothing.”
Sean didn't respond to that. He just looked straight ahead. We finally made it up the last hill and stopped to walk back through the park, which was our established routine. Without saying a word, he turned toward his truck.
“Hey!”
He stopped walking, but he didn't turn around.
“Sean…” I felt like my heart was breaking. I didn't want him leaving like this.
He turned around. “I'm listening.”
“I know we haven't been hanging out again for that long.”
He just raised his eyebrows, saying nothing, not making this any easier for me.
“But it means a lot to me. That we're…friends.”
Sean crossed his arms against his chest. “So that’s it…I'm in the Friend Zone?”
I nodded, suddenly feeling near tears. “But not because of anything you’ve done. It's not you—it's me.”
His mouth dropped open and he shook his head. “Do you even hear yourself?” The intensity in his voice knocked me back a step. “It's not you, it's me? Or you, or whatever? Do you even know what you're saying?”
“Yes,” I said, my eyes filling with tears. “No.”
He shook his head and started walking again. “I can't do this.”
“Sean!”
He stopped again.
“You don't have to do anything,” I said. “Just meet me tomorrow night and go for a run with me. Please.” I was clearly begging and I didn’t care.
But he didn't make me any promises as he climbed into his truck.
8
SEAN
I couldn't believe that I was back here. Sitting on my couch, so angry I couldn't even think straight. Over Charlotte.
Fool me once, my bad. Fool me twice—yeah, I'm an idiot.
I nursed another beer as I sat there, alternating between feeling sorry for myself and feeling angry at myself. I should get up and turn off the Christmas lights. I should get up and turn off the music.
But I couldn't. I just kept thinking about her. And me. And the Friend Zone.
The fucking Friend Zone.
I couldn't believe I'd fallen for it—for Charlotte—again. At the party, I'd thought we were back on track to rekindling our romance. I'd been so excited, I hadn't been able to sleep. I'd been so excited, I had to run all the way to see her first thing the next morning.
And she'd shut me out. Once again, Charlotte had proven herself immune to what I guess were my questionable charms. I hadn't been good enough for her ten years ago, and I wasn't good enough for her now.
In my beer-induced haze, I texted Matthew. Buster was wrong.
Buster was never wrong, he texted back immediately. What’s the problem?
I just sent him a beer emoji, got up, turned off the Christmas lights and hauled my ass to bed.
This was the last time. I told myself that over and over again as I tossed and turned, even though I wished it weren’t true. Finally giving up, I fell into a fitful sleep.
Where I promptly dreamt about her all night long.
CHARLOTTE
Sleep eluded me. I kept rolling over and looking at the clock, the hours ticking by. The last time I checked it was three a.m.; that was bad news when you had to be to work by 4
.30.
I was sitting up before the alarm even went off. I dragged myself from bed, feeling achy and miserable and knowing there was no end in sight.
“What's your problem?” Riley asked when she saw me, taking in my mussed hair and dark circles. We hadn't seen each other since the night of the party; Riley had a cold and I’d told her I could handle the bakery on my own. I needed her healthy for the holiday rush, which was now fully upon us.
“Nothing,” I said, starting the coffee.
“Man trouble?” Riley asked, getting out my favorite mug and setting it on the counter. “Sean trouble?”
I shrugged. “I really don't want to talk about it.”
Riley waited till the pot was full, then she filled my mug and slid it down the counter. “Can you please talk about it anyway? You look terrible. Let me help.”
I shook my head, my lower lip wobbling.
“Well, I'm sure the problem wasn't Sean liking your dress.”
“No…he…liked it.” My voice shook as the tears threatened to spill out.
“Aw, what’s the matter? You sleep with him and you’re feeling guilty? You shouldn’t! You already slept with him, remember? Back in the day? So it doesn’t even add to your overall number!” My sister blew her nose as she waited for her questionable logic to make me feel better.
“I didn’t sleep with him.”
Riley watched my face. “So…you’re crying because you wish you had?
“I probably should have. While I had the chance.” I wiped my eyes roughly, not wanting the tears to go down my face. “It doesn’t matter now. I totally messed up. I put him in the friend zone.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Why the hell did you do that? You’re twenty-eight. You’re too old to have a ‘friend zone!’”
“Thanks a lot,” I moaned. So much for my sister and trying to ‘help.’ I wiped my face again and then busied myself making dough. Christmas was Friday, and we had tons of orders to fill each day this week, along with keeping the shelves stocked with holiday treats for the customers who dropped in. I needed to focus on work. “Just forget it. I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine. And since we’re going to be locked up together all week, you know I’ll get it out of you eventually.” She didn’t take her eyes off me. “It’s not like I’ve got anything better to do.”
“Yes you do. You have to bake. And mind your own business,” I reminded her.
“I’ll definitely bake. But I’m not making any other promises.” Riley was quiet for a minute, mixing ingredients and organizing orders. I could tell keeping quiet was killing her. “Will you just tell me, already?” she finally blurted out. “I thought you were excited about going out with Sean. I haven’t seen you like that in a long time.”
“I know. I was excited,” I admitted. “But it’s a little more complicated than that.”
“Complicated because it’s actually complicated or complicated because you’re making it complicated?” she asked, not missing a beat.
I groaned. I knew my sister, and I knew she would just drive me crazy all week until I cracked. In order to avoid that and also in an attempt to have someone make me feel better, I decided to tell her the truth as I kneaded the dough. “Chris called me that same night. He called me a bunch of times, actually. And he sent me some nasty texts.”
Riley put her hands on her hips and l could see how angry she was. “He’s such a dick!”
I blew out a deep breath. “He called again at three a.m. and I picked up because I wanted to say the same thing…but I couldn’t get a word in edgewise. All he did was cry.”
“Am I supposed to feel sorry for him?” my sister asked, her voice sharp with incredulity.
“No, of course not. I mean…I don’t feel sorry for him.” I concentrated on cutting the dough for the lattice-work I’d be placing on top of the pies.
“Then why are you letting him come between you and a fresh start?”
I fumbled a little with the pastry knife. “I’m not.”
“Um, you friend-zoned Sean before you even really started dating him again.”
I could feel Riley watching me but I didn’t look up. I didn’t want to say what I was thinking—that after this latest bad breakup, I’d sort of given up on the idea of me ever finding someone again. I didn’t trust myself not to screw another relationship up, and I cared about Sean too much. “I guess it’s just not the right time.”
She didn’t say anything for a minute. Then, real quiet, she asked: “When’s it ever going to be the right time?”
I didn’t say anything. Because I didn’t have an answer for that, and we both knew it.
SEAN
In spite of my better judgment, I put on my running clothes and a skull cap. I looked at the clock; it was almost four. Charlotte would be closing the bakery soon and she’d said she wanted to run. I should stay away from her, but it was like rubbernecking at a car crash…I didn’t really want to see what had happened, but I just couldn’t look away.
I guess part of me didn’t believe that she meant it—that she didn’t want me. I felt something between us, something real. But didn’t you think the exact same thing when she left for college? Yeah, that was right. I figured she’d miss me so much, she’d turn around and come running back.
Instead, she’d never even sent a postcard.
My gut feelings hadn’t served me so well in life. I’d thought that Charlotte would come back sooner, I thought Megan had meant it when she’s said she’d be loyal to me forever, I’d thought, I’d thought, I’d thought.
I’d thought wrong.
Matthew was pulling through the gate as I headed out on my run. The sky was grey and the air smelled like snow. Christmas was Friday. I gave no fucks about any of these things. I just wanted to finish my run and have Charlotte take it back about the friend zone. I wanted her to say something that would make me feel better.
If that didn’t happen, at least it would be beer-o’clock when we finished our run.
Matthew rolled down his window and poked his head out at me. “What’s your problem?” he asked.
“Why do you think I have a problem?” I snapped.
“Because you drunk-texted me last night. And you mentioned my dog,” Matthew said, not missing a beat. “So spit it out.”
I just shook my head.
“Female trouble?” he asked, knowingly. “Charlotte?”
I shrugged.
“What, she didn’t want to get horizontal the other night? That’s no big deal, dude. You just might need to give it some time.”
I leaned down until I was eye level with him. “She said I was in the friend zone.”
Matthew looked appalled. “She said that?”
“Yeah.” I could see little puffs of smoke coming from my mouth. It was probably freezing out, but I was numb. I couldn’t feel it.
He scrubbed a hand across his face. “Why would she say that?”
“Because she’s not interested in me?” I guessed. “Because she doesn’t want to sleep with me, like, ever?”
“Nah,” Matthew said. “I saw the way she was dancing with you. I don’t think she was playing…and I might be sort of dumb, but I’m never wrong about this shit and you know it. But what’s her problem? Has she got issues? You know…” He spun his finger next to his temple, giving me the international sign for crazy.
I shrugged. “Just that ex-boyfriend. Otherwise, she seems good. Really good.” As soon as I said it, I realized it was true. “I think she’s grown up.”
“So maybe something happened with that dude.”
“Maybe.” I shrugged again, because I didn’t know what else to do. “It doesn’t matter.”
“You look like it matters,” he said. “Maybe you could be a grown up and ask her what gives.”
“I talked to her…that’s when she told me I was in the friend zone.” I shuddered.
“Well, do something about it. It’s almost Christmas,” Matthew said, rolling up his window and dismissi
ng me. “You need to cheer up.”
Nodding at my friend, I started to run. But not back to Charlotte. I just needed to blow off some steam, to clear my head. I thought about the past few weeks as I turned and ran down by the beach. It had been so easy for me to be around her—to feel that spark of hope in my chest that, maybe this time, things could work between us.
But I’d grown up over the past ten years. That boy I’d been, the one who’d worn his heart on his sleeve and begged her to stay…that boy was gone. Charlotte brought him out in me, though. As evidenced by the fact that I’d run all the way to her bakery right after our first date.
Stupid, stupid, stupid.
Maybe Matthew was right; maybe something had happened with the ex-boyfriend that had made Charlotte skittish. But I’d been monitoring all of his accounts so I knew he wasn’t headed up here. Charlotte was safe. No matter what happened with us, I would always make sure of that. But if she didn’t want me to be the man in her life right now, or ever, I had to respect that.
And this time, I wasn’t begging.
9
CHARLOTTE
I looked out the window. Snow was falling and the sky was a dark, ominous grey. I looked at the clock. Time to close the bakery, time to get Gypsy and go for my run.
But there was no Sean. He hadn’t shown up and I had a sinking feeling that he wasn’t going to.
Riley closed up the cash register and blew out a deep breath. “We are really busy this week!”
“I know.” Even though I was sad Sean had decided not to come, I was happy about the business. “It’s pretty awesome, huh?”
Riley nodded at me, an excited gleam in her eye. “I think this is going to work. I think that Charley’s is going to actually survive our first year. And then some.”
“I think so, too.” I smiled in spite of my heavy heart. At least something I’d done was working out.
“Thank you,” Riley said.
“For what?”
“For giving me this opportunity. I would never have tried to do this if it wasn’t for you.”
Home for the Holidays: A Contemporary Romance Anthology Page 29