At least I choose to believe he does, because if he doesn’t, what does it say about me?
“Let’s have a toast,” he says, raising his glass.
“To what?” Mom asks, blinking rapidly. As if images of Ethan are flashing through her mind’s eye.
“To family,” my father says, his distinct voice sending a ripple through the room. A current we don’t often express. Love.
I lift my glass to meet his, Ava’s eyes glistening with tears. We may be a fucked up family, with our priorities all out of order, but sometimes - on rare occasions - we let our guards fall and truth is revealed.
We may be Becketts, but we’re also human, after all.
* * *
On the train back to Princeton, Ava is quiet, reading a science textbook until she dozes off. I pull out my phone, needing to touch base with the guys Prescott had put me in touch with after the incident ages ago with the rock through Charlie’s dorm room window.
“Malcom there?” I ask.
“It’s me. What’s up, Spencer?”
“Just wanting to check in on everything. Is there an update on the surveillance? I usually receive a report at the week’s end, but haven’t gotten anything yet.”
“Fuck, sorry, yeah, I’ve got it ready, just wanted to add last night's data.”
Most of the reports consist of basic information. Who she was seen with coming and going from her dorm. If there was any suspicious activity at night. Nothing has been flagged as potentially dangerous. Thank fucking god.
But even though he was able to retrieve the video of Charlie and me in the library, it had been a burner phone, nothing to tie it to any individual.
“Was there something out of the ordinary?” I ask, rubbing my temple.
“No, she was just with that guy. The football player?”
The words make my skin bristle. Trying to sound nonchalant, I ask, “What were they doing that needs to be added to the report?”
“Uh, gimme a sec, I’ll pull it up and send the footage to you. My guy was on it and I haven’t even looked at the feed.”
I grunt, wondering exactly what I’m paying him ten grand a month for if he doesn’t even bother to make sure Charlie is safe around the clock.
“After you look at it, let me know if you want us to check on anything else, honestly, because there haven’t been any red flags since we started.”
“Understood,” I say, ending the call. A moment later my phone chimes and I pull open the grainy video. A streetlight shines down on Tatum and Charlie as they run across the quad toward her dorm building. She reaches to the ground and grabs a handful of snow before pelting Tatum with it. He returns the blow with a snowball of his own, before running toward her and tossing her over his shoulder.
Her face is bright, even through the black and white recording. I can practically hear her laughter, feel her joy.
My heart goes cold. That love I felt as my family and I sat around the dining room table, leaves my body. She is happy. Without me.
I close the video and open the text thread. I quickly type a message to Malcom. Thanks for the help, but we can close down the recon. Charlie isn’t in need of my help anymore.
It’s the truth - and it slays me to type it. But I press send anyway. Charlie never asks for full-time surveillance and am no longer the man in her life.
Ava stirs, sitting up and running a hand through her hair. “You okay?” she asks, her voice still sleepy.
“I’m fine.” Which is a big fucking lie.
She pushes out her bottom lip. “You miss her?”
I lean my head back against the chair and breathe out, “Yeah.”
She reaches in her bag and hands me a bag of chocolate covered pretzels. “Here. These make everything better.”
A second later my phone chimes again.
“Who is it?” Ava asks.
“Prescott.” I turn it to silent. I knew he’d be calling, asking about why I just ended things with his buddy Malcolm, but I don’t want to get into it. Not tonight.
“You should take it,” Ava insists. “He’s your best friend.”
“Oldest friend,” I clarify. “There’s a massive difference.”
She shrugs and looks out the train window. “He isn’t so bad.”
I smirk. “Tell that to the two juniors he had at his place last night.”
Her gaze jerks back to me. “He had people over at his place last night?”
I roll my eyes. “Yeah, that fucker knows how to brag about his threesomes, I’ll give him that. He’s trying to remind me there are more women in the world, more fun to be had.”
“I see,” Ava says curtly. “Then maybe you were right. Maybe Prescott isn’t worth talking too.” She excuses herself to use the restroom.
I shake my head at her moodiness. I’m not blind, I’ve seen the way she’s fawned over Prescott since she was a kid. But the douchebag is smart enough to keep his hands and other body parts to himself.
With Ava gone, I text Prescott instead of calling. Truth is, I need his honest opinion in my life. I miss it - his blunt edge, his no-nonsense desire to make something of himself. I need that drive. And I know pushing him away isn’t going to help me get where I want to. My father may be an asshole, but he has friends that have always had his back. Prescott is my wingman as much as I’m his.
I’m done holding grudges. It’s time I fucking moved on.
God knows Charlie has.
Me: I ended things with Malcom because I’m trying to move on.
Prescott: Does this mean Princeton Charming is officially back on the market?
Me: IDK. Was thinking politics, not pussy.
Prescott: You know, you can have both.
Me: No thx. But I want to talk about this summer.
I see three dots, then silence.
Several minutes pass and I wonder where Ava went off to. Eventually my phone chimes again.
Prescott: Sorry. Girl problems.
Me: You break someone's heart?
Prescott: More like talking a girl off the ledge.
I smirk. Same old guy.
Me: Maybe we can help one another after all. Politically.
Prescott: So I’m no longer banned to the bad boy’s corner?
Me: No guarantees.
Prescott: Will you be such a ball buster when we get to D.C.?
Me: Depends on if we go together or not. You in?
Prescott: You know it motherfucker.
When we pull up to the station, a car is waiting for Ava.
“Who’s that?” I ask.
“Just an Uber. I’m good from here.” She pulls me into a quick hug before heading off to the town car. “Love you, Spence. And hey, maybe give Prescott a break. I think he means well.”
“I think he does too.”
I see a shadow of someone in the backseat, and her smile broadens as she opens the door. I watch her go, hoping she is better at picking boyfriends than I am at being one.
Charlie deserves to be happy, and so does Ava.
7
Charlie
I never check my phone while I’m in class. I know plenty of students do, but I am here with one aim: to graduate with honors. And I know that won’t happen if I’m texting - or like the girl sitting next to me in Advanced Environmental Science - sexting. I’ve accidentally glanced her way one too many times when she’s been sending a full frontal shot. Not my thing. At all.
So when we’re in the middle of a lecture and my phone starts ringing, I instinctually freeze. That can’t be me causing my professor to pause and then groan while looking for the culprit.
When he sees it’s me, his gaze softens. Maybe it’s because I’ve been consistently contributing to class discussions, but I’m guessing it’s because as my hands wrap around my phone, I start to panic. Tears in my eyes, shaking. Fear.
The only reason I could get a call while my phone is on silent is if my parents try to call me three times in a row.
It could only be one t
hing: an emergency.
“Dad?” I ask as my father’s muffled sobs break through the line. I’m standing with my bag on my shoulder, pushing my way past the sexter, eyes brimming with tears as my Professor nods understandingly. In the hall I ask - no, I implore, “What happened?”
“Charlie, it’s your mom. She...” His voice shakes and my hands do too. “She’s gone. She...passed away sweetheart.”
No.
No.
No.
I can’t take a breath and I feel like I’m drowning. But when air finally hits my lungs, it comes back out in a guttural cry that shakes through me. My sobs echo through the long and prestigious corridor of the lecture hall. The ceilings are cavernous, high and hollow and my heart is undone. He says words I try to absorb. But it’s impossible to take anything in when the pain is so ragged, so raw - so absolutely unexpected.
Complications from her MS. Heart attack. Unexpected. Emergency room. Tried to save her. Gone.
I try to listen, to focus but all I see is a world without my mother and it’s a world I don’t want to live in. A doctor calls to him and he has to go. “I love you, Charlie,” he manages, his heartache palpable.
“I love you, Daddy,” I say, but the words are muffled by my cries.
Blurry-eyed and hysterical, I wind my way out of the hall, needing a plane. Now. Needing to fly to my father so I can wrap my arms around him, be his strong-hold, be his shield. He can’t be alone right now. How will he live without her?
She was his rock, his world. His everything. Now he’s alone in a sterile hospital, making decisions he wasn’t prepared to make.
I reach for the handrail as I walk outside, stumbling as I crash into the bright sunlight. It shouldn’t be sunny today. It should be a dense fog, hanging low, it should be slashing rain and smoldering thunder. It should be dark. So dark.
How can you miss someone so deeply when they’ve only been gone a matter of minutes?
“Charlie?” Spencer’s voice reaches me from somewhere I can’t see. The tears are swallowing me up whole. “Charlie, woah, there, hey, I got you. I got you now,” he is saying, his arms wrapping around me as I fall against his chest.
I breathe him in. Sandalwood and leather and promises we couldn't keep. I miss him.
“Charlie, what happened?” he asks, his arms tight around me, his hand smoothing my hair. I burrow closer to his chest, his thick wool sweater catching my tears and my body goes limp against him. Terrified of a world without my mother.
I can’t talk and he must sense that. He picks me up off the ground and he whispers that everything will be alright and maybe for him, it will. He has his family and money and a life all mapped out and mine just got pulled out from under me. What is the point of any of this if you don’t have the ones you love with you at the end of the day?
Time escapes me when I’m in his arms and then as if by magic we are in my dorm. He’s found my keys in my bag and the room is empty, just like my heart and he sets me on the bed and gets me a glass of water, but I can’t drink. Can’t breathe. Can’t think.
“She’s gone.” My shoulders heave and my stomach turns, and I need my dad.
“Who’s gone?” he asks, kneeling before me on the floor. Perfect Spencer Beckett. With his thick hair and bright eyes and heart-melting smile. He cups my face and our eyes lock and in that moment, he holds my sorrow.
It’s just long enough for me to collect myself.
Not to put myself together, no - just enough for me to take a deep breath. To exhale with the words I prayed I’d never have to say, “My mother just died.”
He doesn’t ask a single question. What is there to know? In my eyes, he saw it all plain enough. The life I had before is not the same as the life I have now. My mother is gone, and I wasn’t with her when she took her last breath. I wrack my mind for what we spoke about on our last conversation and all I remember is a text thread about the afghan she was knitting.
How can that be the last thing we talked about?
I cry against Spencer because he is here, but also because he knows me in ways no one else on earth does. When we were together, our bodies entwined, he gave me the greatest nights of my life. And now we are sharing my lowest low.
When my shoulders stop shaking, when I finally have the strength to reach for the glass of water, after I gulp it down all at once, he asks, “Did she suffer?”
“It was a heart attack,” I say. “Which, after everything, all the surgeries, treatments...all of it...it seems like the cruelest way to go.”
Spencer nods. “I’m so sorry, Charlie. It’s not fair.”
“How could her heart fail her? She had the purest heart of anyone I’ve ever known.”
“I don’t know,” he says and the fact that he doesn’t try to have all the answers brings on a fresh flood of tears. I’m so glad he’s here with me right now. I don’t want to imagine being in this room right now, alone.
“You need to get home.”
“I know. I need to get a ticket.” My head starts spinning with things I need to do and I don’t want to do any of them. All I want is to give my dad the biggest hug in the world and never, ever let go.
“Shhh, shh, Charlie, breathe,” he says, and he pulls out his phone. “I’ll get you home tonight, I promise.”
I swallow, grateful that he’s here, believing that his swift and steady decisions will get me back to Michigan faster than anyone else on the planet could.
“Will you come too?” I ask as he begins to speak with a travel agent.
He pauses his phone call, steps toward me, and squeezes my hand. “I’ll be with you as long as you need me.”
8
Spencer
It’s a Thursday afternoon and thankfully the flights aren’t full. I book us first class tickets for a flight leaving in two and a half hours. It’s tight, but we will make it. We don’t plan farther than one foot in front of the other. I just need to get Charlie home.
When Charlie is in the bathroom washing her face so we can go, I make a few necessary calls. She packs quickly and I call Prescott, he lives a block away from my townhouse.
“It’s an emergency,” I tell him. “I need a bag packed. Black suit. I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”
“Fuck, who died.”
I run a hand over my jaw. “Charlie’s mother.”
Prescott knows enough to discreetly end the call and promises to have my bag ready for when we swing by.
Then I get us a car and help Charlie into her coat. She’s shaking, in shock, and my heart fucking breaks for her. It’s wrong, every last thing about it. Heather was young, generous, a fighter. And now she’s gone.
My chest tightens as I try to imagine Charlie's father, Daniel, right now. A salt of the earth man, with tears falling down his cheeks. All too fucking much to bear. This kind of pain can crack a person in two. And it might be years before they start piecing themselves together.
I know it all too well.
We get to the airport quickly, and when we get to the gate, Charlie’s shoulders fall all over again as she sees who’s here, waiting for her.
She crumbles as Tatum wraps her in his arms.
“How did you get here?” she asks. “How did you know?”
He kisses her forehead, his eyes glassy, same as mine. “Spencer called. Got me a ticket. Made sure I was here. For you. God, Charlie.” He wraps her in his arms again, and this time I have to look away.
I bought him a ticket, knowing he is Charlie’s best friend. Maybe more than that for all I fucking know.
And I’m glad he’s here, she needs him here. Wants him here.
But God, it fucking slays me.
When it’s time to board the plane, I’m grateful that the tickets are printed with our seating arrangement. I don’t want to decide where Charlie sits. With whom. Not at a time like this.
“We can board now,” I say, doing my best to hide the jealousy that tightens my throat. She wanted me with her, that says something, right? A
nd even if it’s just as friends, I can accept that, just to be with her, to support her. It’s better than nothing.
Tatum’s hand never leaves Charlie’s back as we board the plane and I see him frown when we get to our seats. It’s probably the first time he’s flown first class, but I know that’s not what bothers him, it’s the fact that Charlie is seated next to me.
I return his hard look when he takes his seat, because in all fairness I could have put more distance between them than a fucking aisle. And the only reason he’s even here at all is for Charlie.
“Thank you for doing this, Spencer.” Charlie’s fingers twine with my own and she rests her head on my shoulder.
I can feel her strength slipping. I know what comes next, the emotional and physical crash as the adrenaline wears off. The next few days will be a vicious rollercoaster of emotions.
“You should try to get some sleep,” I say, pressing my lips against the top of her head.
“I don’t think I can.” She yawns as she says it, and I can already feel her body sinking into the leather chair beside me, her head becoming heavier on my shoulder.
“Just try.”
It’s not long after we’re in the air that I know she’s out, her hand still in mine. Tatum glances over at us, not hiding his disapproval, but smart enough to keep his mouth shut.
Without disturbing Charlie, I pull out my phone and scroll through the missed calls and texts. Nothing urgent, but I respond to Ava, who somehow already knows about Charlie’s mom.
Brat: Prescott told me. Is there anything I can do?
There’s a niggling at the back of my head questioning why Prescott is talking to my sister, but I push it aside. He wouldn’t touch her, not unless he wanted to lose his balls.
Me: Yeah, I need you to go to the Montgomery Fundraiser in my place tomorrow night.
Brat: Sure. No problem. Give Charlie a big hug for me.
Me: I will.
Losing Princeton Charming Page 4