by Ryan, Alison
“Trust me, Saylor. I’m not interested anymore. And this shit is why. You can be such a bitch,” Declan said, walking back toward the house. “Go fuck with some other guy that’s willing to put up with your shit. Because I’m not him anymore.”
He walked away, leaving Saylor Embers alone in his parents’ crushed oyster shell driveway. For good.
********
Charlotte and Declan formed an unlikely friendship in the following weeks. Neither were in any classes for the summer so they fell into a routine of sorts.
Charlotte had picked up more shifts at Dixie Garden. She’d work the lunch crowd and come home in the afternoon. On the weekends she worked nights and Declan would try to be around when she got back and they would sometimes watch a movie or just sit around on the porch, talking about things. Nothing heavy, just the kind of conversations you have with someone you’re trying to get to know.
They’d argue about movies, television, sometimes politics. Declan always leaned a little more to the right of things, while Charlotte was more progressive. It never got too heated and Declan liked the challenge Charlotte brought to the table. She had thoughts and opinions she could back up, and she wasn’t afraid to share them and never was one to pretend to agree with him. If anything, she enjoyed when they disagreed, which was often.
Anna DeGraff had taken notice of her son’s new friend.
“When are you going to introduce me to our new tenant?” she asked him over breakfast one morning. “You sure spend a lot of time over there these days.”
“Charlotte works a lot,” he said, taking a bite out of his eggs benedict. Declan wasn’t sure why he was hesitant to introduce Charlotte to his mother. Something stopped him each time.
“Well, have her over for dinner sometime soon,” Anna said, sipping her coffee.
“Sure,” Declan said. “I’ll do that.”
********
One day, three weeks after Charlotte moved in, Declan found her sitting on the porch with the same look on her face she’d had the day on the bridge.
He’d sauntered over to see if she wanted to go out to dinner with him that night. It was the closest he’d come to actually asking her out on a date. But instead he’d found her sitting on an Adirondack chair, her legs tucked under her, clearly having been crying.
“Charlotte?” he knelt down next to her. “What’s wrong?”
Charlotte shook her head, “Nothing. It’s too much to get into.”
“Well, it’s clearly not ‘nothing’,” he said, touching her arm. She jerked her head up at his touch. It had surprised her, but he mistook it as her wanting him to pull away, so he did.
“Sorry,” he said. “I’m here, though. We’re friends. You can tell me. Is there something I can do?”
The concern on his face about broke her heart. He was so kind to her, not like she’d suspected he’d be at all, and his compassion made her burst into tears.
“I’m just,” she sobbed. “Today is my mom’s birthday.”
Declan had to fight the urge not to wrap his arms around her. Instead he let her cry and was quiet. He listened.
“My mom would have been fifty-years-old today,” she continued. “And I miss her so much. It’s been almost six years since she died and I still can’t stop wishing she was here. I think about her every day and lately it’s been so hard.” She looked at Declan. “Sorry, this is too much to put on you.”
Declan pulled up the empty chair next to her and sat in it, his knees touching hers and he bent his tall body forward to look at her eye to eye.
“Tell me about her,” he said. “Tell me what she was like. What are the things you miss the most?”
Charlotte looked at him for a long moment. They’d never been this close together and part of her wanted to kiss him so badly for even asking about her mom.
“I miss her voice,” Charlotte said. “She liked to sing show tunes while she cleaned. Especially from A Chorus Line. It was her favorite musical. She’d be running the vacuum upstairs and I would still hear her. Dad pretended it drove him crazy, but he would always smile.” She laughed. “She was a terrible singer. I mean, really awful. But what she lacked in talent she made up for in enthusiasm.”
Charlotte sighed, “I sometimes wonder if I’ll forget what she sounded like. I used to have a voicemail from her saved on my phone, but my dad switched carriers and it somehow got deleted. It really crushed me. Having that silly little message kept her alive for me in a way.”
Declan couldn’t help it; he took her hand.
“What happened?” he asked. “Unless you don’t want to…”
Charlotte shook her head, “No, it’s okay. I can tell you. You’re being so kind. She was killed in a car accident. Out on Folly Beach. I was thirteen.”
Declan squeezed her hand, “I’m so sorry. Were you on vacation?”
Charlotte nodded, “Yep. We always came here in the summer. She went to the store, asked me to come with her. If I had agreed to go, she’d probably have missed that stoplight. The person who hit her would have hit someone else. Or just sped on through. My mom would still be alive.” Charlotte’s shoulders shook with her sobbing. “All because I was an asshole teenager who didn’t feel like going with my mom to the store.”
Declan pulled her to him, “No. It’s not your fault. Did they find the person who hit her?”
“No,” Charlotte said. “That’s the worst part. It’s what haunts me to this day. No one ever had to pay for my mom dying. They didn’t even stop to see if she was okay. How could someone do that?”
Declan didn’t know what to say.
“I don’t know,” he admitted. “It’s one of the worst things I’ve ever heard.”
Charlotte wiped her tears and stared into Declan’s eyes.
“It’s pretty terrible,” Charlotte said. “Her birthday is one of the hardest times for me. Especially this one. I sometimes wonder if I did the right thing moving here.”
They were inches from one another now. He could have leaned in and kissed her; kissed away her pain, her grief. He would have, if she’d only given him the slightest hint it’s what she wanted.
But she didn’t. She pulled away instead.
“Thank you for listening to me,” she mumbled. “I’m sorry to get all emotional on you. I’m sure you have big plans tonight.”
Declan smiled, “Nope. No plans. Unless you feel like joining me for dinner. Maybe a birthday celebration. For your mom.”
Charlotte looked up at him, surprised. “Really?”
“Yeah,” he said. “Fifty is a big one. What was her favorite kind of food?”
“She loved Mexican,” Charlotte grinned. “Fajitas. Chips with salsa and guacamole. The kind they make right at the table.”
Declan stood up and offered her his hand, “Let’s Feliz Cumpleaños the night away, Charlotte. I’d love to hear more about the woman who raised my friend.”
She was hesitant to take his hand. She felt like enjoying this day wasn’t right, that she should be in mourning.
But the look in his eyes and the swell in her heart made her think it was the right thing to do. Her mother had always said she wanted her girls to be happy. Above all else.
And nothing, at this moment, made her happier than Declan DeGraff.
Chapter Seven
Declan was relieved to see Bree Lakes leave. She was a lot of high maintenance energy that he just wasn’t in the mood for at the moment.
As soon as she’d mentioned his mother, he’d frozen. The people closest to him knew that the topic of Anna DeGraff was off limits. He’d cut people out of his life that reminded him too much of her, save for his father. Whether they liked it or not, Henry and Declan were stuck with one another, and their pain at her absence was identically acute.
It's why he’d avoided Charleston for so long. It wasn’t only because everything about this city reminded him of Charlotte and what he’d lost in letting her go. But this city was his mother. From the marshes, to King Street, to th
e Battery, to Angel Oak, to the bells chiming at St. Michael’s, all of it was her. She was a ghost Declan had never been able to deal with.
So he’d fled. Transferred out of the College of Charleston and moved clear across the country. Finished up at Stanford. Formed a start-up on his own and made billions of dollars when he sold it.
But none of it made him forget. At the end of the day, it was just a distraction.
********
Once Bree was gone, he took in his surroundings. He’d brought some furniture with him from Palo Alto, but not much. He’d need to go out to Mount Pleasant tomorrow and see about hiring an interior designer to spruce up the place. It wasn’t something he was interested in doing. He would rather just throw money at the problem and have it fixed.
He’d talked to his father’s new nurse earlier that morning. Henry DeGraff was still pissed off to be dying and Declan couldn’t blame him. It was a shitty way to go. He’d promised the nurse he’d be over later today to visit; possibly have a conversation with his father that didn’t end in an argument.
But, for now, he needed some fresh air and sunshine. The sound of the Atlantic beckoned him to come out and rest a while. Declan thought jumping in and having a swim might be a good way to start the day.
He stepped out onto the back porch to take in his surroundings. He could see a woman was already laying out on the sand. She had on a black bikini and was flipping through a magazine as she lounged on a beach towel.
Not a bad view, he thought. Not a bad view at all.
Ten Years Earlier…
Charlotte’s least favorite shift of all the shifts she had to work at Dixie Garden was definitely Sunday brunch.
Charleston’s finest came out in their Lily Pulitzer dresses, Tory Burch flats, and Chanel handbags. The women gossiped over pimento cheese sandwiches and she-crab soup that they never touched, all while demanding constant refills of water and sweet tea.
And none of them tipped for shit.
Charlotte dreaded it every week. And on this particular Sunday, she was reminded of why.
Saylor Embers and her coven of southern bitches were seated at one of her tables. As soon as they saw she was their server, the hell began.
“Oh, well, look who it is!” Saylor cooed. “It’s little Miss Ho Bag. How’s it going? Don’t you look adorable in that little apron? It really hides your flaws well!” She smiled and the girls around her chortled at her audacity.
Charlotte ignored the insult, “Good morning. What can I get y’all to drink?”
“Water. Unlike some, we don’t drink our calories. And we prefer it bottled,” Saylor said. “Who knows what you’d do to it.”
“Got it,” Charlotte said. “I’ll bring you bottled water. Did you want an appetizer?”
Saylor rolled her eyes, “No. But I wouldn’t mind a different waitress. I prefer not be served by someone who’s fucking my boyfriend.”
Charlotte’s hands started to shake, “I’m not sleeping with him. And I’m completely capable of serving you whatever you need.”
“Are you ‘capable’? How lovely. Couldn’t a trained monkey serve us sandwiches? I mean, seriously. What are you even doing here? You realize everyone thinks you’re a joke, right? And a whore? Because when you receive something like rent in exchange for sexual favors, that’s what you become. A nasty prostitute. I don’t want you touching my food. Can I see your manager? Maybe they’re not aware what kind of girl they hired. There must be plenty of other trailer trash bitches vying for a spot at this place.”
Charlotte couldn’t take it anymore. She dropped the notepad she took orders on and quickly ran from the dining area and back to the break room. She couldn’t let them see her cry.
She wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of that.
********
That night she’d thought long and hard about what she was trying to prove by staying in a town that seemed to want nothing to do with her.
Charlotte missed her little sister. She missed her friends; hell, she missed having friends. The only friend she had here in Charleston was Declan.
She even missed her father. And as much as it pained her to come crawling back, she wondered if maybe it was better that way. Charleston just didn’t seem to love her the way she loved it.
That night she’d told Declan how she felt.
“So you’re thinking of moving back home?” Declan asked. “Why?”
“It would be too hard for you to understand,” Charlotte said, trying her best not to cry in front of him. “You don’t know what it’s like.”
Declan sighed, “You could at least try me. It’s kind of presumptive of you to assume I wouldn’t know what it’s like to feel a certain way.”
Charlotte rolled her eyes, “Declan. I am living in your carriage house. The fact that your family even has a carriage house automatically precludes you from being able to relate to most people outside of your social circle.”
Declan was annoyed now, “Just because my family has money doesn’t automatically disqualify me from having pain in my life, Charlotte. And the fact that you think it does shows how little you know about the world and how it works.”
Charlotte stood, “You’re so condescending sometimes!” She started to walk away.
“Where are you going?” he asked.
“To bed. I’m tired. I’m so fucking tired,” she said, and then it couldn’t be helped. The tears came, like a wave that couldn’t be stopped, and she was suddenly crying, the kind of crying filled with gasps and sobs and wails. It was a cry from deep within her soul, one she’d been holding in since she was thirteen years old.
“Charlotte…” Declan went to her then, not caring what had been said or how it might look tomorrow. He reached out and pulled her into his arms, her sobs vibrating against his chest, her tears soaking into the front of his button down.
“I can’t take it anymore, Declan,” she cried. “This city hates me. I don’t look like anyone here, nor can I afford to. I don’t come from a family that’s lived here for 400 years, I don’t even own a decent car. I’m not in a sorority, I have to work at a place that serves the very girls that laugh at me on a daily basis, and I’m expected to do it all with a smile on my face.” She pulled back and wiped her tears from her beautiful eyes. “I’m tired of pretending to be happy. I’m tired of sticking it out just to prove I can.”
Declan stared at her, his heart breaking at the sound of her anguish and rage stirring in his heart thinking about anyone hurting her.
“I didn’t know,” he said. “Who would ever laugh at you?”
Charlotte sniffed, “If you must know… Saylor, your girlfriend. She’s one of the worst. She called me trailer trash. I’ve never even been inside of a trailer, and even if I had, does that automatically make me a terrible person?” Charlotte started crying again. “And my ex-roommate, Allyn. She comes into Dixie Garden all the time and ignores me completely. Acts like we didn’t live together for 9 months. Unless she’s alone, then she’ll acknowledge me half-heartedly.”
Declan was furious, “Charlotte, Saylor is not my girlfriend. I’d never want to be with someone who was such a heinous bitch. And Allyn Legare is a phony, she always has been.” Declan pulled Charlotte toward him again. “You’re beautiful, smart, and really funny. You’re original, and full of life, and sexier than any girl on the peninsula. They’re jealous as fuck, Charlotte. They know that they’re nothing special and that they probably never will be because they don’t have the courage to be anything other than what everyone expects them to be.” He took her chin in his hand and pointed her face up at him. “I’d feel sorry for them if they weren’t such assholes.”
Charlotte’s lips had never looked so good. God, he wanted to kiss her. He’d wanted to kiss her since the second he saw her, but seeing her like this made him want to even more, to show her she wasn’t any of the things she herself as.
For just a moment he wanted her to see herself through his eyes.
“You rea
lly think I’m beautiful?” Charlotte asked, her eyes wide now.
“I know it,” he said, and that’s when he took his moment. He kissed her gently, tasting her for the first time, the scent of her hair intoxicating, her breasts and body never so close to him as they were now.
She pulled back a moment and looked at him, “I’ve wanted you to tell me that... Since I met you, Declan. Is that strange to tell you?”
Declan shook his head, “I’ve wanted to say it. Since the day on the bridge. You looked… lost. Those eyes of yours, they haunted me. All I wanted to do was take the pain away. It was so clear then you were in a lot of it.”
Charlotte looked down, embarrassed. “So you pitied me?”
He smiled, “No. Well, maybe a little. I wondered why someone as beautiful as you would ever be alone on a bridge. And then I realized, you were there so I could find you.”
She looked up at him, “Like it was meant to be?”
“Yes,” he took her face in his hands again and kissed her harder this time, his mouth traveling from hers and down her neck, to her collar bone. Her long hair brushed against his face and he felt himself growing hard being this close to her. She sighed beneath him, and through the thin cotton of her tank top her nipples were swollen and stiff. His thumbs brushed against the material, making her moan.
“Declan,” she whispered. “Is this a good idea?”
He looked at her and said nothing for a moment.
“I’m not sure,” he admitted. “But I know I want you. I know you want me too. Let’s live with that tonight and worry about the rest tomorrow.”
“I’m not someone who can buy today and pay later,” she said, pulling away. “Especially when it comes to my heart.”
He gently pulled her by the arm back towards him, “I will never make you pay for anything, Charlotte. This isn’t like that.”