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"Charlotte, are you sure you're all right?" Simon asked again, his blue eyes searching hers for any sign of distress. “It wouldn’t bother me if you spoke to him. He’s not even in the country, luv.” Simon winked.
She hesitated, taking a deep breath before responding, her gaze flitting toward her silenced phone resting on the table. "I wonder if I should call him back, but I don't want anything to interrupt this beautiful evening we're sharing."
Simon studied her intently. "I understand," he said softly, reaching out to gently touch her hand. "I'll be here, regardless of your decision."
In the quiet space between them, the weight of her choice seemed to grow heavier. As she looked into Simon's eyes, she realized how deeply she had come to care for him, quickly, and how much she wanted to continue exploring whatever they shared. Her heart ached at the thought of cutting their evening short, of allowing Daniel's presence to encroach upon the time they had together. She glanced down at her phone once more, then turned it over, screen-down, on the table.
"I'm choosing to be present in this moment, with you. Whatever Daniel needs can wait."
A slow smile spread across Simon's face, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he squeezed her hand in return. "I'm glad," he said simply, raising his wine glass in a silent toast. "To us."
"To us," she echoed, clinking her glass against his and taking a sip of the rich, velvety wine.
A moment of silence passed between them before Simon cleared his throat, set his empty bowl down, and sat back down, his gaze drifting toward the window where the night sky stretched out like a blanket of stars above the coastline. "There's something I've been meaning to tell you..."
Charlotte held her breath, her stomach knotting with anticipation. “Yes?”
"My marriage... When it ended a few years ago," Simon confessed, "It wasn't easy, but looking back, I can see that it was for the best."
Charlotte blinked, taking a moment to process the revelation that Simon had once been married. She hadn’t known. Her mind raced, trying to reconcile the image of the strong, self-reliant man before her with the vulnerability he had just shared. She hesitated, unsure of how to respond, but then found the courage to ask, "What happened?"
Simon sighed, his shoulders sagging ever so slightly. "We grew apart, Charlotte. We married young, both changed, and eventually, our paths diverged too far from one another. My ex-wife and I, we tried to make it work, but in the end... we had to let go."
"Simon, I'm so sorry." Charlotte squeezed his hand, her eyes welling with tears of empathy. She knew all too well the pain that accompanied such a loss, the sense of failure that gnawed at the edges of one's heart.
His eyes met hers once more. "Honestly, I think it was a necessary journey for both of us. It made me realize what I truly value in life—the simple things, like family, community, and the love of someone who truly understands you."
In that moment, as the candlelight flickered and danced around them, Charlotte knew that she could trust Simon, that he would be there for her no matter what the future held. And for the first time in a long while, she allowed herself to believe in the possibility of happiness again. But would it be with Simon, or was his talk about love just an ephemerous “someday?” Their hands remained intertwined, but as the silence between them stretched on, Charlotte couldn't help but feel her heart race with uncertainty.
"Simon," Charlotte began, her voice barely above a whisper. "I... I appreciate your honesty about your past. It means so much to me that you trust me enough to share that with me."
Simon smiled, his thumb gently stroking the back of her hand. "I feel like I can be completely open with you, Charlotte. And, well, I hope you feel the same way."
She nodded, even though she knew there was a part of her that still held back, afraid of revealing too much. As much as she wanted to bask in the warmth of their attraction, Charlotte couldn't escape the nagging thought that they were both damaged goods, each carrying the weight of a failed marriage.
"Simon," she said hesitantly, trying to find the right words. "Do you ever worry that our... histories might make it difficult for us to truly move forward?"
He paused, his eyes searching hers for a moment before he replied, "I think it's only natural to have those concerns. We've both been through a lot, and it's left its mark on us. But I believe that we can learn from our pasts and use that knowledge to build something stronger."
He had said stronger—but not together. Had that been intentional?
Charlotte found comfort in his words, but her insecurities continued to gnaw at her. An unsettling question lingered in her mind—what if, despite their growing bond, she was destined to repeat the same mistakes that had led to her divorce?
The sudden, soft patter of raindrops on the windowpane disrupted Charlotte's thoughts.
“How about a fire in the formal living room?” she asked. “I have one laid. I can light it if you’d like to get more stew.”
Simon let go of her hand—reluctantly, she thought—and nodded. As he went into the kitchen, she stood and went to light the fire.
Soon, she had the fire crackling in the hearth, casting flickering shadows across the worn wallpaper and antique furniture. Simon joined her with his second bowl in hand, and she glanced over as he entered, perusing a dusty book from one of the many shelves lining the walls. The quiet intimacy of the moment was something she hadn't experienced in a long time, and she found herself simultaneously comforted and disquieted by it.
"Have you ever read this?" Simon asked, breaking the silence. He held up a well-worn copy of Wuthering Heights. "It's one of my favorites."
"Actually, I haven't," Charlotte admitted, a sheepish smile playing on her lips. "I've always meant to, but somehow never got around to it."
Simon chuckled softly. "Well, I highly recommend it. It's a tale of love and loss, of passion and heartbreak. Quite fitting for a place like this, don't you think?"
Charlotte looked around the room, absorbing the faded grandeur of The Crown Inn and the memories that seemed to linger in every corner. "Yes, I suppose it is." She paused, searching for the words to express the turmoil of emotions churning within her. "But life isn't always as simple as the stories we read, is it? Sometimes it's messy and complicated, and there are no easy answers."
