by Max Monroe
Sure, his feelings had been valid. But it still didn’t change the fact that his bitter words had left a pretty nasty slash in my heart.
God, this was a fucking mess.
I startled out of my incessant, warring thoughts when my phone vibrated in my hands.
Nick: Char? Are you there?
Another text. Shit. I had to answer him at some point or else he’d end up at my apartment. And honestly, I wasn’t so sure I was ready for that conversation.
I walked into the living room and sat down on the sofa. My teeth worried along my lip as I contemplated what was the best route of message response.
Me: I’m here. Sorry. I was in the bathroom. I have diarrhea.
That’s a bit gross, Char, I thought to myself, and instead of hitting send, I deleted it and tried again.
Me: I know your ex. And her brother. Remy was the man I left at the altar. Everything is completely fucked and doomed, isn’t it?
Jesus. Even the diarrhea text was better than that rambling diatribe of nonsense.
I deleted that one too and settled on something a little less crazy.
Me: Sorry, my phone was on silent. I’m still on the mend, but doing okay.
Technically, I wasn’t lying. My phone was on silent, and I had rewatched the entire first season of GoT. Well, yesterday, but that’s just minor details, right?
Nick: I’m glad you’re feeling better. I was starting to worry.
Nick: I miss you. When can I see you?
I miss you. Tears swallowed my eyes, and my heart ached at his words.
Fuck, I missed him, too.
I dropped my phone onto the empty cushion beside me and buried my head in my hands.
I couldn’t stop the tears after that. Like a faucet, the liquid emotion rolled down my cheeks in a big, fat stream. I was a mess, and worst of all, I had a feeling that soon, I’d always be missing him.
It’d been the longest weekend with Lexi of my life.
Not because I didn’t like the time I’d spent with her or because she’d been any less amusing in every aspect of her day, but because I’d texted Charlotte what felt like forty-five times and only gotten five in return—quite brusque in nature, at that—and every time I’d attempted to call, she’d declined to answer.
So, as soon as I’d dropped Lexi off, I’d gone right to Moon Grill and gotten the biggest tub of chicken noodle soup they sold, and then come straight to Chinatown to the shitty apartment Charlotte was still living in, thanks to Harry and Doreen. She’d yet to work up the courage to kick them out.
I didn’t blame her. They were about the nicest people on the planet, and if I owned the house, I’d probably just wait them out until they died. Unless they made a bid to become the oldest people on the planet, it’d be within a decade.
“Charlotte,” I called, knocking on the door for the second time since I’d arrived. I could hear her moving around inside, but she’d yet to say anything—or make her way to the door—and I was officially starting to worry.
“Come on, Char. Open up, please.”
When she finally opened the door thirty seconds later, my whole world collapsed.
Tearstained and mottled red, her skin looked like she hadn’t slept in days. Her eyes were swollen, their sea-blue color a muddy lake water color, and she couldn’t even look me in the eye.
“Jesus Christ,” I whispered, rushing inside and taking her back with me until the sound of the door slamming rang out behind me. “What happened, baby? Are you okay?”
She bit her lip, and her crying renewed, two fresh tears cutting edgy tracks down her tortured skin.
“Sweet Jesus, Char. Calm down. Tell me what I can do. Are you just sick?”
She shook her head and collapsed to the couch, so I set the soup recklessly on the coffee table and followed her down, framing her jaw with my hands until her wet eyes met mine again.
“I just…I can’t believe this is happening. Three days to think it through, and I still can’t believe this is happening.”
“This? What is this? Help me out here, sweetheart.”
She took a deep, shaky breath and shrugged my hands off her jaw. Her energy was palpable as she jumped up from the couch again and started to pace like a lion in the zoo. I followed her every move as she worked up the courage to get started.
“Oh God. I can’t believe this. I just can’t—”
“Charlotte,” I said her name in an attempt to redirect her. She was all over the place, and I really needed clear, concise answers. My mind was beginning to get the best of me, and only worst-case scenarios were filling my thoughts.
“Okay,” she proclaimed, clenching her fists and turning toward me, her every facet an absolute mess. “You know how I told you about leaving a guy at the altar?”
My eyebrows pulled together, and she snapped, “At trivia night!”
“I know,” I consoled. “I’m just confused about the direction of this conversation. But I’m sorry, go on.”
“Well, apparently, you know him. Apparently, you know him well.”
“I know him?” I asked, mystified. “I don’t even have any friends outside of my daughter and work.” I chuckled. “How could I know him?”
“Because it’s Remy.”
“What’s Remy?” I asked like an idiot, completely unwilling to entertain any logical possibility.
She nearly crumpled, her eyes closing as fresh tears ran down her face and her body curling into itself shakily. “The guy. The guy I left the night before our wedding when I was twenty-two years old. The guy who’s your daughter’s uncle. The guy who hates me more than anyone has ever hated me and would never, ever be okay with me dating you.”
Words had left me, shock taking root at my throat and making speech impossible.
Once nausea replaced the shock, I jumped from the couch, feeling sickness climb the column of my throat so convincingly, I ran for the bathroom. I was hunched over the toilet when Charlotte made it to the door.
Seeing me like that only made it worse.
“I’m sorry. God, Nick, I had no idea. I didn’t know Lexi’s mom was Winnie until you said it Friday night, and even then, I hoped I was wrong. But when you said you had to pick her up from Remy’s, I couldn’t pretend it was all a big coincidence anymore. And I couldn’t face you.”
She sobbed, big and body-racking. “I couldn’t meet Lexi knowing what I knew then.”
Convinced no actual vomit was going to make it out of my mouth, I fell back from my position over the toilet, lifted my knees, and put my back to the wall.
Charlotte sank to her knees in front of me.
“I can’t believe this is happening. Thirty-four fucking years of my life, and I’m finally happy, like fucking deliriously happy, and my biggest mistake comes back to haunt me.”
I heard her talking, saw the tears as they ran down her cheeks, but I could only think of a single word.
Lexi.
The center of my world and one of the smartest girls on the planet—and the most important factor, an uncle-worshiping niece. She loved Remy to her core, and he loved her the very same.
He wasn’t a member of the family we saw on occasion or the kind of guy who forgave and forgot without pause. He was a stubborn staple of our lives, and he’d had his heart broken twelve years ago by the woman I was now in love with.
I didn’t think that was something people got over, looked past—learned to love. Especially not for a guy they only tolerated to begin with.
Because that was the impossible reality I really wanted, right? To have Charlotte be a part of our mixed lives. Dinner dates with Winnie and Wes, and family barbeques where Lexi could be immersed in a world with all the people she loved.
Three words distorted my pleasant visualization, and they weren’t distorted at all: Not fucking likely.
“Char…”
“You’re breaking up with me, aren’t you?” she whispered, her voice a tortured shell of itself.
It felt like glass had
shattered in my throat as I forced the words out. “I left when Winnie was pregnant with Lexi. I sent money, worked my ass off to provide them financial stability, and I called on occasion, but I was a shitty fucking father. Winnie decides when I see Lexi and when I don’t, and Remy already strongly dislikes me at best. I can’t…”
She nodded, sinking to her own ass and putting her face in her hands.
I moved to her slowly, carefully, and lifted her up to settle her ass into my lap. She turned her face into my throat and sobbed. I hugged her tight, tighter than I ever had before and forced myself to say the words even though I didn’t want to. “I can’t risk it.”
The only problem, my subconscious whispered, is that, thanks to the cameras, you probably already have.
Fucking fuuuuck.
I wasn’t even sure how much time had passed since Nick had broken up with me. A few weeks? A month? A year? It could have been any of those options at this point. Every day felt longer than the last, and the incessant pain of missing him hadn’t waned.
There was nothing worse than missing someone. Especially when that someone would never be yours again. It was a constant battle between your head and your heart. You knew you should move on, your head reminded you of that every day, but your heart, well, it wouldn’t let go. It seemed content in misery, giving off the impression that you’d never be able to get over that person.
I’d spent the past week and a half distracting my mind with work. I’d go into the office early, and if I was working from home, I generally worked through the late-evening hours for lack of anything better to do.
The money I’d made in commission and bonuses in that span of time was nearly double what I’d earned in the previous month. I guessed I could have treated myself, spent a few hours shopping Fifth Avenue, but what was money, or material things for that matter, if you weren’t happy?
Nothing. It meant nothing and did nothing to soothe the constant ache stemming from the bottomless pit of heartbreak.
And the realization that made it even worse? I’d understood why Nick had ended things. I hadn’t blamed him for not taking any chances when it came to his daughter. Which meant I didn’t even have anger to fall back on.
If anything, I loved the fucker more.
It was a real fucking bitch.
My phone pinged loudly in my small, loft apartment, and I already knew who it was before I snagged my phone off the coffee table to look at the message. My best friends had been trying their damnedest to get me out of the apartment—so far, to no avail.
Ivy: Just come out tonight. It’ll make you feel better.
Harper: Ivy’s right, dude. A girls’ night out with wine solves everything.
I called bullshit. The only thing that would solve my problems was if my connection to Remy magically didn’t exist and Nick and I were still together.
Me: Believe me, you don’t want me around. I’m a complete sad sack. We’re talking armpit hair and complete lack of personal hygiene. I’m just going to hang out here tonight. Read a book. Take a bath. Binge-watch GoT.
My phone rang a minute later, and I sighed when I saw, Incoming Call Harper, flashing across the screen.
Cripes. They wouldn’t let this go. I appreciated their concern, but it was unwarranted. I just needed some time to lick my wounds and get my thoughts in order.
I warred with the idea of sending the call to voice mail, but because friendship and shit like that, I ended up muting Game of Thrones and accepting the call by the fourth ring.
“Seriously,” I said by way of greeting. “Couldn’t we keep the eventual interrogation about my breakup to the group text?”
“Nope,” Harper responded, popping her p loudly. “We wanted to hear your voice. Are you sure you’re okay? Aside from the days old pussy smell you have going, of course.”
“We?”
“Ivy’s on, too. Consider it a three-way.”
“Hi, Char. How are you holding up, sweetie?” Ivy asked, her voice soft with concern.
Jesus. Their sympathy was nearly my undoing.
What was it about that emotion that urged tears to form in your eyes? Like, even when you thought you had it together, that you’d cried all you could cry, one tiny inkling of sympathy and concern in a loved one’s voice and bam! The dam burst, and you were back to square one all over again.
I swallowed hard against the building pressure in my throat. “I’m fine, guys. Seriously. I just need some alone time.”
“Bullshit,” Harper muttered. “We all know you’re not fine.”
“It’s okay to say you’re not fine, Char,” Ivy chimed in. “I know I wouldn’t be feeling too good after a breakup.”
“Okay. Okay.” I sighed heavily into the receiver. “I’m in a real rough place right now, and honestly, your sympathy and concern are much appreciated, but it’s too overwhelming for me at the moment. I just need some time to be alone with my thoughts and process it all.”
“What exactly happened?” Harper asked. “I mean, you never really explained why you and Nick ended things…”
“God, it’s a big, fat fucking mess to be honest,” I muttered. “You know he has a daughter, right?”
“Yeah,” they both answered simultaneously.
“Well, his daughter’s mother is Winnie.”
“Who is Winnie?”
“You know, Winnie,” I repeated.
A few seconds of silence passed over this, until it all clicked into place for them.
“Oh, fuck!” Harper shouted. “You mean, Remy’s sister, Winnie?”
“Yep.”
“Jesus,” Ivy muttered on a long exhale. “What are the fucking odds?”
“Probably so slim I should have bought a lottery ticket the day I met Nick Raines.”
“I’m so sorry, Char,” Ivy said, and Harper added, “Me too, Char. That’s a fucking bitch of a problem. I understand the braids under your arms now.”
I rolled my eyes at their jokes, but I was too sad to laugh. “Yeah, it really a hell of an issue.”
“Is there anything we can do?”
“Not right now,” I answered honestly. “I just need some time. But, I promise that if I do need anything, you will be the first ones I call. Love you guys. Thanks for being such awesome friends.”
“Love you too,” they responded, and shortly after that, we ended the call.
But before I could go back to my binge-watching, my phone pinged with another message.
Harper: Oh! One more thing! When do we get to see the new Brooklyn digs???
Ivy: Oh my gosh! I almost forgot about that! Invite us over soon, Char? Pretty, pretty please?
Well, unless they wanted to hang out with Doreen and Harry, it would most likely be a while until I could invite my friends over to my house. Hell, it’d be a while until I could invite myself over to my house. I still hadn’t found the strength to start the process of evicting them.
I knew I could tell Harper and Ivy the truth—I could tell them anything—but I couldn’t do it without going a few rounds of mocking. And I wasn’t in the mood.
Me: Soon. :) Once I’m all moved in.
Fingers crossed that milestone actually occurred.
Ivy: Don’t forget to send us pictures of the new place!
I wasn’t sure how that worked. Should I send them the barely there shots I’d downloaded off the auction site or just take some candid shots with Doreen and Harry milling about in the background?
Me: Will do. :)
After I sent my response, I chose to put my phone on silent. And then, I thought better of it and just turned the damn thing off. Surely, I could use a good twenty-four hours without any human contact or the temptation of sending messages to someone I just needed to let go.
Nick. God, I missed him.
I’d sent him all of two messages since he’d broken up with me. Variations of “how are you,” both very vague in nature, and a hard-left turn from our normal witty repartee. Not only were they painful to send, it was e
ven worse when I got his equally vague responses.
But he’d made his decision, and even though it hurt like a motherfucker, I’d understood where he was coming from.
He’d worked too hard to make things right with his daughter, and now, with their relationship stronger than ever, I wouldn’t want him to risk anything related to her either.
Don’t go there, Char. Think about something else. Find a distraction.
I grabbed the remote off of the coffee table and turned up the volume, loud enough to drown out my thoughts, but not too loud that the other tenants in my building would start banging down my door for the disturbance.
It worked for all of fifteen minutes. And then, my mind started to race. Dissect. Relive. But most of all, wish things were different.
I just wanted to go back to that happy space where Nick and I had all the time in the world and nothing standing in our way.
Eventually, I gave up, switched off the television, and slipped on a pair of Converse to head downstairs and check my mailbox. Generally, I wasn’t a fan of mail. I hated that I had to check a box every day, only to receive a stack of bills, coupons, or credit card approvals. But today, I was in need of the monotony. Surely, there would be something inside there that would take my mind off things.
With one turn of my key, I came face-to-face with a single envelope. I broke the seal with my index finger and unfolded the sheet of paper that was inside.
It was the deed to my house.
A house I absolutely adored and one that I wasn’t currently living in.
I had to stop dragging my feet and find an amicable way to get Doreen and Harry the fuck out of there.
Obviously, in a way that meant they didn’t end up homeless. Or didn’t cause them to be angry with me. Or feel sad.