by Holly Rayner
“You are the woman from my dreams,” he said then.
They pressed their naked bodies together, teasing each other, before retiring to the bed upstairs. They made love deep into the night, entrapped in the other’s body, relishing in the feel of their skin touching, their unity. Then, they fell asleep in each other’s arms, completely content and utterly spent.
The following morning, Charlotte awoke in Sean’s arms, her cheek against his shoulder. She gazed at his nakedness before her, noting that they fit perfectly together, that their bodies seemed made for each other—they were two pieces of a stunning puzzle. And she longed for him not to wake up, so that this moment, this image, could last forever. She breathed easily, daydreaming, remembering herself as a eighteen-year-old girl once more. She wished she could go back and inform that girl of the beauty of the future.
“You’ll have a wonderful law career,” she would tell the girl, her voice warm. “And you’ll meet a man who will change everything, even though you can’t keep him. He cannot be yours. But the brevity of your time together doesn’t mean it isn’t important. Treasure your feelings. Listen to your heart. And fight for what you believe in, always.”
As Charlotte daydreamed, Sean stretched awake, turning his dark eyes toward her. He gave her that mischievous grin before reaching toward the floor and grasping the comforter. He swung it over them, so that they could no longer see their nakedness, so that they could drift apart on the mattress.
Charlotte felt oddly sad as they became two separate entities, but she didn’t allow it to show on her face. She gave him a friendly grin and felt a question bubble to her lips. “Do you want to eat breakfast? I’m starving.”
Sean laughed. He reached for his watch on the nightstand and checked it, noting the time. “I actually can’t, even though it’s Saturday; I have a meeting at noon. And it’s already 10:30? Oh, man.” He shrugged his shoulders. “I wish I could, though.” He kissed her lips lightly, without the tension of the evening before.
Charlotte lifted herself to a seated position, calculating how far away her home was. She needed to find her way back to the office, grab her bicycle, and ride hard and fast back to her place so that she could start to forget her feelings. “Well. This was fun, thank you,” she said. Her voice had the formality of a seasoned lawyer once again. She’d practiced this voice. And now, she kind of hated using it.
“Yes. Don’t think I’m not glad we did this, because I am. It was one of the best nights I’ve had in a long time,” Sean said. He turned away, grabbing a towel and moving towards the bathroom. He would no longer smell like her, soon.
“For the sake of your career and mine, we should definitely make this a one-time thing,” Charlotte said, hating how cold the words sounded after everything they’d shared the previous night.
She couldn’t read Sean’s reaction as he stepped into the bathroom and closed the door.
In that moment, Charlotte leaped from the bed and down the steps, toward the couch, where she found her pencil skirt and her lace shirt. She donned them quickly, pulling her fingers through her hair to try to look presentable again, not pausing to say goodbye before stabbing the elevator button.
She tipped her weight on first one heel, then the other, hoping Sean wouldn’t leave the bathroom before her escape. He was still in there when the elevator doors closed.
Outside, Charlotte marched toward her office building, still smelling of the billionaire. She could still taste his tongue in her mouth.
Finding her trusty bike, she stabbed her feet over her pedals and bound herself toward home. In many ways, she wished she had just gone home the previous evening. Now, she’d have to live with this memory, just as she’d carried the memory of Sean throughout the previous ten years. Now, she had to know that, in another world, in another life, they might have been meant for each other. They could have been together.
But because she’d been able to meet him, because she’d been hired as his attorney, she was forced to remain alone.
Her apartment welcomed her without judgement. She fell into the arms of her couch and flicked around on the television, not bothering with the news or any of her normal channels of interest. She felt like a kid who’d been stood up at the dance, but she didn’t know why.
She was a grown adult, and she needed to refute her feelings for Sean. She would throw herself voraciously back into her work. Maybe, she thought, she’d make an online dating profile, to figure out if anyone in this world could ever compare to Sean.
She highly doubted it.
Chapter 9
Two Months Later
Charlotte sat in her office, wrapped in a gray sweater, gazing out at the rain that had begun to patter across Seattle. Long gone were the gorgeous, sun-drenched days of summer, and autumn was revving toward them all like a semi-truck. She couldn’t do anything to stop it.
She pushed her phone to her ear, listening to it ring and ring. Finally, she heard the familiar voicemail recording.
“Hello, this is Sean of Lawson Technologies. I am unable to receive your call at this time. Go ahead and leave a message and I’ll get back to you soon.”
Charlotte groaned inwardly as it beeped. But when she spoke, her voice was smooth, cordial.
“Hi, Sean,” she began. “It’s Charlotte Waters. Again. I know I keep calling you, but we need to go over the details of this case. Things are ramping up on our end, and Evan Greene is growing rowdy. His attorneys are all over us.”
She swallowed, hating that she longed to end the message with something like “I think about you often.”
She hung up after a quick goodbye, and went back to staring out the window, thinking about the passage of time and how it always seemed to stomp on her heart, no matter how hard she worked to escape it.
Out of nowhere, there came a knock at her door, breaking Charlotte’s reverie. Thinking it was probably Katrina, who’d been a constant annoyance in her life recently, she spewed a disgruntled: “Come in.”
Charlotte didn’t spin around as she heard the clacking of heels. But the moment the familiar, playful voice said her name, her muscles lost their tension, and her smile stretched from ear to ear.
“Chelsea,” she whispered, turning round.
She ran toward her friend, wrapping her arms around her and smooching her on the cheek like a cartoon character. Chelsea had been in Europe for the previous two weeks, on business, and she’d hardly been able to call—the nine-hour time difference was killer. “Oh my God, I hate to say how much I’ve missed you. But it nearly killed me not to see you for so long.”
Chelsea giggled. “Girl, you should have gone with me! Called in sick to this place. How many hours have you been putting in recently?”
Charlotte thought for a moment, adding the numbers in her head; once she got to 60, she quit counting. “You know, I don’t want to think about it,” she smiled. “Too many, or not enough. It’s one or the other.”
Chelsea sat at the seat across from her, slipping her fingers into her bag and grasping what looked to be a chocolate bar. She handed it to Charlotte, grinning. “Look. I got you some Swiss chocolate to take your troubles away.”
“From Zurich?” Charlotte squealed, taking it. She yearned to eat the entire thing in one bite. “Thank you so much. I’m going to make it last. Well. At least, till the end of the day.” She winked at her friend.
“Eat it however you please,” Chelsea laughed. “Seriously. I gained like five pounds in Europe.”
“But you look better than ever. You’ve got the travel glow,” Charlotte affirmed. She paused for a moment, trying to think of a single update on her life.
“You haven’t heard from him lately, have you?” Chelsea guessed, tilting her head. “You seem down, honey, your face has sadness in it.”
“Sadness ages you,” Charlotte said sternly, rubbing her eyes. “And so does Katrina. Ugh.”
Chelsea laughed. “Well, I think you deserve a night out with me. Drinks next week? I have loads of w
ork to get caught up on, but we both need to cut loose. What do you say?”
“I say absolutely,” Charlotte agreed. “And you need to help me get over this dumb Sean thing. I need to meet people. I need to put myself out there. It’s finally time.”
“I’m glad you’re feeling up to it, really,” Chelsea said, eyeing her. “But I can tell you’re not really over that guy. You fell for him hard, didn’t you?”
Charlotte opened her mouth, feeling her breath come in staggers, just from the mention of Sean. She began to tell Chelsea that she really didn’t want to talk about it—that she’d really rather leave it alone, when someone rapped at the door. The knock was impatient, angry.
“That’ll be Katrina,” Charlotte sighed, rising to her feet. “She’s been in and out of here all morning. She has a million ideas about the Sean Lawson case—none of which align with what I actually practice, with regards to law.” She rolled her eyes. “Of course, Lyle’s humming and hawing, wanting to side with her because of her father.” She paused for a moment, sighing. “Anyway. Maybe we can catch up properly soon? I’m sorry you came all the way over here.”
“I’m just playing hooky, love,” Chelsea said, kissing her friend on the cheek. “Good luck with the monster.”
Chelsea whirled past Katrina as Charlotte opened the door, giving her a once-over.
Katrina eyed her icily before passing her gaze to Charlotte. “Do you have a moment?” she asked, trotting in on her Louboutins without waiting for a response.
Charlotte sat in her chair, her hands in her lap. She waited as Katrina fluffed her hair, gazing around the room. The door was closed behind them, and Charlotte had half a mind to run and retrieve Lyle, if only to keep things friendly, but she didn’t move toward the door.
“Have you heard from Sean recently?” Katrina asked her, her eyes dark. “Because he called me just now. Said he wouldn’t be back from New York for another two weeks.”
Charlotte frowned, feeling her insides fold into themselves. He’d called Katrina? Why hadn’t he returned her phone call? She worked hard to push down her hurt feelings.
“A great guy, really,” Katrina said, her eyes flashing. “You can tell he truly cares about his business. That he wouldn’t do anything to run its name through the muck.”
“Sure,” Charlotte said. She didn’t know where this was going. She sensed something menacing in Katrina’s words, but reminded herself that nobody knew about her night with Sean. Nobody in the world, apart from the two of them.
“Which is why I really think we should follow my strategy for the case,” Katrina said. “Your plan—no offense, but it’s too risky. If we lose, it would tell the world that Sean is a liar, that he uses people. But with my plan, they won’t think poorly of him. They’ll only think highly of Evan Greene—which is a chance we’ll have to take. It’s better this way.”
Charlotte scoffed. She longed to ask Katrina if she’d ever spent a single day in law school. The route she’d planned didn’t even take the massive selection of documents that Sean had sent them into account. But Charlotte had to play cool.
She leaned back, nodding. “I’ll have to talk to Lyle a bit more. But it definitely could work.”
Nope, she said in the back of her mind. She most certainly would not do that. Her career was on the line, and if she lost this, she’d be mortified.
“Well,” Charlotte said, tapping her hands on her legs. “I think I’m going to head to lunch, if you think we’re done here. I really don’t see anything else we can cover.”
“Lunch?” Katrina scoffed, looking Charlotte’s body up and down. “Be careful, Charlotte. We don’t want to be seen as sloppy here.”
Charlotte’s eyes grew wide as the insult smacked her in the face. She stared at Katrina, deadpan, wishing her to leave.
“I’m just saying. Try to lay off the bagels, if you can,” Katrina smirked. She tapped from the office, her small, perfect butt swaying behind her.
As soon as the door closed, Charlotte burst from her seat, staring down at her stomach. Sure, she’d felt a little bloated recently—but fat?
She touched at the slight bulge in her pencil skirt, aware that it had been a great deal easier to zip up a few weeks before. But she had hardly changed her diet. Sure, the stress fallout from her night with Sean had caused her to order takeout a few more times than normal, but that didn’t warrant this much weight gain. She still went running every morning. She still worked hard, and ensured she didn’t overdo it on carbohydrates.
What was it, then? She studied her hands, conscious that she was approaching 30. Perhaps the rules had changed for her. Perhaps she couldn’t even look at a piece of pizza without the weight stockpiling on her stomach, on her thighs. She forced herself to create a plan, then and there, writing out the words on her notepad: ‘zucchini, chicken, NO BREAD, buy a scale!’ hating herself for listening to Katrina.
But she couldn’t help it; she wasn’t immune to that wretched woman. And now that Sean had been ignoring her—and was, apparently, contacting Katrina for information about the case—her self-esteem was at an all-time low.
Charlotte skipped lunch and worked deep into the night; her tongue sandy from lack of eating, her body seeming to creak with fatigue. As long as she was building a solid strategy for the Lawson vs. Greene case, she felt she didn’t need sustenance.
When she arrived back at her Capitol Hill apartment that night and curled up on her couch, she was exhausted. She didn’t even look in the refrigerator. She longed to waste away. How would she meet the man of her dreams—the one somewhere out there that wasn’t the billionaire heartthrob she was working with—if she wasn’t a slim, beautiful blonde anymore?
Chapter 10
Over the next week, Charlotte monitored her eating habits and ramped up her morning runs. Between her decreased carbohydrate count, intense exercise regime, and her long hours at the office, she felt wiped out all the time.
And yet, it seemed, that little bulge wouldn’t go away.
One morning, at the coffee machine, Katrina leaned toward her and gestured at her stomach, asking her when she was due. Charlotte felt panicked and angry, but lent her a smile.“Gotta lay off the donuts,” she said, all the while knowing she hadn’t eaten a donut in months. God, this was getting old.
Charlotte sighed as she splayed out in her office chair, her legs outstretched. A knock at the door was followed by Lyle, who still had the crumbs of morning breakfast in his beard.
She jolted upward, not wanting to be caught in this dull and dead state. “Morning, Lyle!” she said perkily, yearning to rub her eyes. “How are you?”
“Just fine, Charlotte,” he said. He rested his hand on the empty chair. “Mind if I sit?”
“Of course not,” she said, tilting her head, curious. “What’s going on?”
Lyle shut the door and sat with his chin pressed against his right palm. “I’m not sure how to say this. But we need to incorporate some of Katrina’s ideas into the case plan.”
Charlotte’s heart sank in her chest, but the expression on Lyle’s face told her that there was no point arguing—Katrina would always win, no matter what.
“And why is that?” she finally asked.
“Well. I know some of her ideas are…not tactful,” he said quietly.
“That’s one way to put it,” Charlotte scoffed. “It’s almost like she never went to law school. There’s no reason she should have this position in the firm, Lyle. And you know that.” She felt the harshness in her voice, and she brought her hand over her mouth, suddenly anxious; despite her frustration, she didn’t want to be rude. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s quite all right,” Lyle said, nodding. “She’s a good lawyer, Katrina, even though she doesn’t understand the craft quite like you do. But because of her father’s position—”
“Say no more,” Charlotte sighed, dipping her head into her hands. “I know. I’ll pick and choose from her suggestions and fit them into the strategy.”
“Thank you, Charlotte,” Lyle said. He looked embarrassed, his cheeks flushing red beneath his beard. “I’ll make it up to you somehow.”
Charlotte looked beyond him, to the door, as he continued to speak. Something within her had changed. She felt a sudden pang of nausea rip through her, and her stomach flipped over. She stretched her fingers over her belly, shooting up to stand vertical.
“Is there something wrong? You’re green, Charlotte—”
But Charlotte couldn’t answer him; she burst past Lyle and toward the ladies’ room, her heart pounding. She ran into the first stall, leaned over, and began to vomit the black coffee from her stomach.
Something about the nausea seemed ominous. She stood, swiping a Kleenex over her lips, her stomach still rolling. She hadn’t been sick like this in years—not since a brutal hangover on her 26th birthday, and even that hadn’t been as bad as this. As she turned back toward the door, ready to explain herself to Lyle, the attack seized her once more, and she found herself diving toward the toilet, shuddering.
When she returned to her office, Charlotte was shaking. Lyle had left a note on her desk, telling her to get well soon, and to head home if she felt the need. She lifted her purse and coat from the coat rack, and ducked out from the office building, stricken.
She felt her legs lead her not to the first drug store, but to the second one—the one a bit further away from work. The aisle of pregnancy tests glinted beneath the false light. She felt so alone in front of them, and couldn’t shake the feeling that everyone she passed by was staring at her, at the bump.
She chose the most expensive pregnancy test, so she could be sure about the result, and paid with cash, ensuring she didn’t have to spend an extra moment longer at the checkout counter. And then, Charlotte got onto the first bus that passed by, taking her all the way back to Capitol Hill. She’d abandoned her bike, not wanting to rush through traffic, through the rain and the chill. Not when she was going home to take a pregnancy test.