I will find a way to be the man she needs, my heart promises, not giving my head a chance to argue.
The sun is so bright as it streaks across the horizon and I want to chase it - that stretch of light. I want to chase it with her.
I realize then, that unshed tears burn my eyes. Not just tears for all this loss, but for the life I want. The life I want with her. That’s what this girl does to me. Makes me hope, and wish, and dream. I saw how much her parents loved each other. They may not have had a lot, but they had each other, and that was enough.
I get it.
Because Charlie is my enough.
We get to the Kensington and I wrap my arm around her shoulders as we pass through the lobby, silently leading her to my room. I notice Tatum’s door across from mine. I know she never told him goodbye this afternoon. For a fleeting moment I wonder if I should remind her to call him, text, but then we are in my room and she is in my arms and her mouth is on my lips and I will give her anything. Everything she wants.
Still, I ask, “Are you sure?”
“I need you inside me,” she whimpers. “I need to feel something besides this ache.”
“I’ll give you anything, Charlie. Anything you need. But—”
“Then take me away from this moment.” Her eyes are pleading, and she whispers, “Please.”
So I do. I give her exactly what she wants, what she needs.
I undress her slowly, so slowly my cock begs to be released. So slowly she is weeping with want. So slowly that there is nothing between us but unsatiated desire. Her dress. Her stockings. Her panties. Her bra. She is naked and bare before me, my clothes are shed and my hands run over her skin. I hold so much raw beauty in my fingers that it fucking slays me.
She is a treasure, a princess, a miracle.
“I need you to fuck me,” she breathes, the words so uncharacteristic, so ragged and rough, that my mouth crashes against hers.
I want her to know she can be soft with me too. That this can be about more than sex. That it can be about forever.
But right now she is blinded with pain and I can do her the honor of taking her away from it for one night.
My fingers run over her wet pussy, leading her to bed. God, how I’ve missed her body, her sweet lips, her round tits, and her skin so fucking soft I could bruise it.
But I won’t. I’ll be gentle with her until she begs me to be rough.
Her body opens up to me like it hasn’t been a month since we’ve been together. Like it hasn’t been dozens of sleepless nights when I jacked off to the memory of her creamy slit, of my tongue running over her as her knees buckled and her back arched.
Her knees part and I run my hand over her wet pussy, my fingers pressing against her throbbing clit and then move deeper inside her. She needs this. Me.
And so do I.
She wraps her hand around my cock, and I groan - unable to restrain myself. Not wanting to. She can have as much of me as she wants. God, how I wish she wanted it all.
“You’re so hard,” she moans as I kiss her neck, leaning over her. I send a trail of kisses down her sternum, sucking her tight nipples, kissing her until I know I’ll leave marks. Wanting to claim her any way I can.
She screams my name as I begin to fill her tight pussy, my cock moving deeper as she pants for breath. I kiss her to silence her but also to inhale her. I want her all, I’ll take what I can. It’s only one night but goddammit how I wish it were forever.
She cries as I fuck her the way she demands. Tears streak her cheek as I make her pussy drip, and I release deep inside her, my hot cum filling her up the way we both need.
Completely.
Sitting up, I cross my legs, pulling her onto my lap, and she wraps her legs around me. Her arms wind around my neck, and I wrap mine around her - pulling one another close - our bodies become one as she sinks against me. Our eyes lock as we move together in a tight and desperate rhythm. Every inch of our skin connects and it’s intimate in a way we’ve never been before.
She comes against me, her body slick with sweat and hot with desire and her eyes search mine and I don’t know what she is hoping to find.
I want to tell her I love her because I do - but she’s here with me to disappear, not be brought back to the present.
So instead of words, I make love to her. Offering her everything I can give, knowing there may be nothing in return.
But deep down I know I already have more than I deserve.
I have this. This.
11
Charlie
Warmth and heaviness surround me as I stretch, blinking when a stream of morning sunlight fills the room, and I realize that it’s Spencer’s body that’s draped over mine.
I fell asleep in his arms last night, and every time I woke up, a sob in my throat, he was there to comfort me with words and kisses and more. I know I just complicated things by asking him to have sex with me. We’re broken up and one night doesn’t change that.
But it was what I needed.
To lose myself in him.
To forget.
And for a few moments, I did.
I wish I could stay here, in his arms. It doesn’t take the pain away completely, but it makes it somewhat bearable. And yet I know there are so many things I still have to do. My dad still needs me, and my uncles and aunts will be expecting me back at the house this afternoon.
When I roll over, Spencer’s face is only inches from mine, his eyes closed, long lashes casting shadows over his cheeks, his dirty blond hair disheveled, and dark scruff coating his chiseled jaw.
My heart speeds up, filled with so much love for the man. God, I wish things could be different. But nothing has changed. He’s still my Princeton Charming.
No, I remind myself. He’s not mine anymore. As much as I wish he was.
I place my palm on his face and his eyes flutter open.
“Hey, beautiful,” he murmurs sleepily, pulling me tighter against his chest. Eyes locked, we share a silent moment. Just him and me. No grief. No world outside this room. Just us.
But then there’s a loud knock at the door and he’s sighing, rolling out of bed, grabbing his pants and putting them on.
After I grab Spencer’s shirt and pull it on, I check my phone which has been on mute since we left the funeral parlor.
There are a dozen texts from Tatum, and I realize that I never said goodbye to him before we left. I’m mid-texting him back when I hear his voice behind me.
“She’s not texting me back. I’m worried that—” Tatum freezes when our eyes meet.
Spencer leans against the open door, still shirtless, hair tousled, and it’s obvious what we were doing all night.
“I just got your texts now,” I say, walking toward them.
Tatum’s gaze is hard and his jaw bounces as his gaze skim down my body, taking in the oversized button-down and bare legs, then back up to my face. And I know he’s hurt.
What can I say to him? That it’s not what it seems? Because it is. And he has no claim over me, despite the anger and jealousy that tugs at his expression.
“I was just texting you back.” I give him a small smile, but he doesn’t return it.
Nostrils flaring, Tatum swallows hard and his gaze turns to Spencer. “I was wrong, you really are a douchebag. Taking advantage of her when she just lost her mom.”
“Careful Madden,” Spencer warns, moving slightly so that he’s in between Tatum and me.
“I asked him to bring me here,” I say, moving between them, which you think I would have learned my lesson from.
The right side of Tatum’s face twitches and he looks down at me. I can see all the things he wants to say, the harsh words, the lecture, but he just shakes his head.
“I’m heading back to school this afternoon. I just wanted to let you know.”
I glance back at Spencer and give him a look, telling him to give us a moment. He does, walking into the bathroom and shutting the door. A few seconds later I hear the shower tu
rn on.
Wrapping my arms around myself, I lean where Spencer was a moment before. “Thank you for coming.”
He rubs the back of his neck and glances up at the ceiling before saying, “I’m trying here, Charlotte. Really fucking hard. I don’t know what you want from me.”
“I want you to be my friend.”
“I don’t know if I can do that.” He scrubs his hands over his face, looking completely miserable. “I’ll always be here for you, but I don’t know if I can...can’t watch you with him again.”
“I’m not with Spencer. It was just one night. But if I was, it’s not fair to ask me not to see him.”
“Not fair?” He chuckles, but the sound is hollow. His fist presses against his forehead and he closes his eyes. “You’re grieving, I get that. You needed someone to lean on. Just wish...wish it was me.”
I hug him, and his arms wrap around me. Tatum is one of my best friends. I don’t want to lose him.
“I love you, Tatum,” I mutter against his chest.
“Yeah,” he says, cupping my jaw so I look at him. “I know.” He gives me a sad smile. “But you love him more.”
I pull my bottom lip between my teeth and look up at him. “It’s just different.”
He sighs and drops his hands, then takes a step back. “I’ll see you back at school, Charlotte. Call me if you need anything, and...” He starts to walk away, then says over his shoulder. “Tell the douchebag thanks for the plane ticket.”
I shut the door and press my forehead against it, wondering why everything has to be so complicated.
“You okay?” Spencer asks. A towel is wrapped around his waist and his skin is still damp.
“No,” I admit, falling into his arms when he opens them to me. “But I will be.”
* * *
The house feels empty, it’s no longer home without Mom here. I’ve spent the morning sorting through Mom’s record collection, debating what to put in a storage unit until after I finish school and have my own place.
“You need to go back to school.” My father is in the kitchen, packing Mom’s china and silverware into boxes for storage. “I’m going to stay with Freddy and Lydia. I’ll be fine.”
I can see Spencer through the large front window, shoveling snow with my uncles, his face red, and he laughs at something they say. It warms my heart, him here with me, but I know things are going to change when we go back to school.
I’m starting to realize that everything changes. Nothing is constant. Not life, or relationships, or homes.
“But the house.” I sit on the couch, knees pressed against my chest, feeling like I’m twelve years old again with absolutely no control over what happens. I’m glad my dad has my uncle and aunt to help him through his grief, but my heart aches that he’s already contacted a real estate agent and plans to have the house listed next week.
“As much as I want to keep this place...” He chokes on the words, back hunched over. He has moments of quiet strength, and then grief consumes him. I feel it too. “I wish I could keep the place for you, for your mom’s memory...”
I stand and wrap my arms around him. “I know.”
And I do. But the small profit he’d make on the house will pay off some of the debt he acquired over the years. It’s not an easy decision for him, and me acting like a spoiled child isn’t helping.
“It’s okay. I understand.”
He pats my back, then wipes the tears from his eyes, turning back to packing. “Is Tatum coming over today?”
“No, he went back to school.” I’m still not happy with the way we left things.
“I know I’m not your mom...” My dad rubs his neck, looking awkward. “But if you need to talk...about...boys...”
“Thanks,” I say, glancing back out the window at Spencer. But there are some things that daughters and dads don’t talk about. Some things a girl needs her mom for. I suck in a shaky breath as it hits me fresh all the things I’ll never be able to share with her.
I’m glad my dad doesn’t press me about Spencer and my relationship, because honestly, I’m not even sure where we go after what happened last night. He’s still here, shoveling my driveway, making stupid jokes with my uncles...that has to mean something, right?
“What is it, Charlie?” Dad asks, setting down the dishes in his hand. “What aren’t you saying?”
I bite my bottom lip. “How did you know Mom was the one? I mean, I know you met in high school, but...how did you know you loved her?”
Dad lifts his eyebrows, looking out the window at Spencer. “Corny as it sounds, she was my match. My equal. With her, life made sense.”
“I know, but like, what was it? Specifically?”
Dad sits down next to me on the couch. “It was a hundred things and it was nothing. It was the fact that she was there, always. My constant. My best friend.” Dad chokes on his words. “I’m guessing you’re asking about Spencer, that you’re falling in love with him?”
“I don’t know if the way I’m feeling is the kind of love that is lasting or if it’s something else.”
Is it grief that has my heart spun up so tight? Is it lust? How do you know if the way you feel is enough? Last time it didn’t work between us. What has really changed now?
“Your mom was the person I thought of when I went to bed, when I woke up each day. Do you feel that way?”
He looks out the window, Spencer is clapping my uncle Freddy on the back, laughing. The winter air making his features more crisp, more clear. He takes my breath away. Is that enough?
“What will you do now, Dad?” I ask, looking up at the man who shaped me in so many ways.
“Charlie, I have twenty-five years of your mother’s love in my heart. I’m going to be okay.” He squeezes my hand. “And you have all that love she gave you in your heart. It means you’ll be okay too.”
“I love you, Daddy.”
He kisses my forehead. “Maybe it’s time that chip on your shoulder melted.”
I frown. “Why?”
“Because you can’t fall in love, completely, if your edges are too sharp.”
“You think I should become a teddy bear like you?” I smile.
“No, I think you should be you. Don’t pretend to be someone else to fit in another person’s world.”
I smile, not used to hearing my dad talk like this. “When did you become such an expert at love?”
He wipes his eyes, and even in the midst of so much sorrow, in this moment, all I see is joy. “Your mother was a good teacher.”
I swallow, a sense of peace blossoming inside me for the first time in days. When I leave for Princeton, I know my dad is going to be okay.
And I’ll be okay too.
12
Spencer
“You are in so much trouble,” my sister says as she walks through the door of my place, cheeks flushed pink, her blonde hair still perfectly coiffed despite the wind that whips and whistles outside.
Like our mom, she has that same way about her that always looks put together. But as she takes off her jacket, making herself at home, she has an impish grin, and I can tell whatever trouble I’m in she’s going to enjoy seeing me squirm.
“What are you talking about?” I shut my laptop and stretch out on the couch, legs crossed on the coffee table in front of me. “And how did you get a key?”
She rolls her eyes and goes to the liquor cabinet, pouring herself a scotch. “I took your spare off your keychain during orientation week.” Her nose scrunches when she takes a deep swallow of the gold liquid.
“A little early for that, don’t you think?”
“You’ll want one too when I tell you who’s going to be here in...” She checks her phone. “Um, twenty minutes.”
My back teeth clench, and even though I have an idea who my impromptu guest is, I ask, “Who?”
“Mom. Apparently she heard about your little” —Ava makes air quotes while holding the crystal glass in one hand and her phone in the other— “dona
tion.”
“Shit.” I check my own phone, but there aren’t any messages from her, which is worse than if there was, because now I’m about to receive her full wrath in person.
I knew she’d find out eventually. The million dollar donation to the MS Society that I made in Heather Hayes’ name came from the Beckett family fund, which my mom oversees. I just didn’t expect her to come all the way to Jersey to confront me about it.
“So how is Charlie?” Ava asks, sitting across from me.
“As good as can be expected,” I say, even though I haven’t spoken with her since we’ve been back.
I’m here if she needs me, but I also don’t want to push her.
“So are you two, like back together?”
“No.” I drag my hands over my face, then back through my hair, that familiar feeling of frustration and agitation building.
“But you totally hooked up again, right?” She smirks at me knowingly.
I give her a hard look. “Not discussing my sex life with my little sister.”
She laughs, but then her expression turns serious. “I actually need to talk to you about something.”
“If it’s about your sex life, I really don’t want to hear it,” I tease. But when she frowns at me, I realize that’s exactly what it’s about. I sit up, taking my legs off the coffee table and leaning forward. “If someone hurt you, give me their name and I’ll—”
“It’s not like that.” She fidgets with her glass before pouring herself another three fingers of the thirty-year-old malt.
I stand and walk toward her, knowing I’m not going to like whatever she’s about to tell me.
“What’s it like then?” I ask, towering over her, my big brother instincts on high alert.
“I just want you to promise me you won’t get mad.”
I take the scotch from her and drain it. “Can’t promise that until I know what you’ve got yourself mixed up in.”
She sighs. “I’m not mixed up in anything. I’m just...dating someone.”
“Who?” I narrow my eyes at her, because even though I know my little sister is far from innocent, I can see her trepidation in telling me.
Losing Princeton Charming Page 6