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Like now. Like with us, she wanted to say.
"No," Simon agreed, his gaze meeting hers with a warmth and understanding that sent shivers down her spine. "But that doesn't mean we can't find solace in those stories or learn from them. They remind us that we're not alone in our struggles, that others have faced similar challenges and emerged stronger for it."
"True," Charlotte said, her heart swelling with gratitude for the connection they shared. "I've always found solace in my art, too. It's a way for me to make sense of the world around me and to explore the emotions I can't quite put into words."
He nodded, handed her the book, and settled in the chair next to her. He ate slowly, punctuated with enough happy hums that she looked up from where she had begun to read several times, grinning. A short time after, he rose to take his bowl to the kitchen, and she smiled after him before returning to Wuthering Heights.
Moments later, her peace was shattered.
"Charlotte!" Simon's voice echoed through the hallway, his footsteps growing louder as he approached the living room. "I think we have a problem with the plumbing."
His rugged features were etched with concern as he re-entered the room, the flickering firelight from the fire in the hearth casting shadows across his face. Charlotte looked up from her book.
"What kind of problem?" she asked cautiously, hearing the gravity in his tone.
"Looks like a burst pipe in the kitchen," he replied, running a hand through his tousled hair. "There's water everywhere, and it's started seeping out into the middle of the floor."
A sense of urgency washed over Charlotte as she rose from her chair, her heart pounding in her chest. She had just fixed that sink! Frustration tightened her throat.
"Let me grab my tools, and we'll see what we can do," she said.
Simon nodded. Together, they ventured back to the kitchen, water lapping at their feet as they waded through the chaos. The once-dry floor was now a treacherous battleground.
"Over there," Simon pointed to a corner cabinet to the left of the sink. Charlotte wrenched the door open, where water spewed from an obviously broken pipe like an untamed geyser, drenching the surrounding area.
"We need to shut off the main valve and try to patch this up before it gets any worse," Charlotte said, raising her voice over the rush of water. She pointed to the nearby counter, where her bag of hardware supplies sat. Simon grabbed it.
Charlotte and Simon worked diligently, their hands moving in unison as they tightened clamps and taped patches onto the ruptured pipe. The cold water soaked through their clothes, but the warmth of their proximity seemed to defy the chill around them. Their eyes met occasionally, and they shared smiles of encouragement as they battled the relentless flow.
"Almost there," Charlotte grunted, her fingers straining against the stubborn valve. "Got it!" The torrent subsided, replaced by a steady drip as the main line was shut off.
"Brilliant work," Simon praised, his voice laced with gratitude and admiration. "I couldn't have done it without you. But it seems you might have been just fine without me." Again, he winked at her.
As they surveyed the wreckage, the tension from moments ago dissipated, replaced by anticipation and a shared sense of accomplishment.
“Well, you’re the wise one, remember?” she teased. “I suppose that makes me the muscle.”
He laughed. She wagged a finger at him.
“But the wise one still has to help mop up.”
“Of course,” he promised, eyes twinkling. “But only if you invite me back again for a dinner that doesn’t involve swimming. It’s getting to be a little much, even if you are a mermaid.”
This time, she winked at him. “Deal.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
The salty breeze tugged at Charlotte's hair as she stood on the harbor, the sun casting a golden glow upon the water. Seagulls danced above, their cries echoing through the air, while fishermen hauled their wares onto the docks. She could hear the creaking of the boats and the gentle lapping of waves against the wooden planks beneath her feet as she gazed out at the horizon.
It was then that Charlotte saw her—a vision of ethereal beauty making her way toward Charlotte with an effortless grace. The woman's long, wavy, blonde hair cascaded over her shoulders, framing her delicate face. Her sea-green eyes sparkled in the sunlight, and her smile held a warmth that seemed to envelop all those around her. She moved with the fluidity of water itself, each step a gentle sway, as if the very ocean had taken human form.
As Charlotte watched her approach, a mixture of admiration and envy bubbled within her chest. This was Simon's ex-wife—the woman who had once held Simon's heart, who knew his every touch and secret. She was everything Charlotte feared she could never be.
"Hello, Charlotte," the woman said, her voice as soft and melodious as the waves that lapped against the shore. "Beautiful day, isn't it?"
Charlotte couldn't help but agree, her voice barely audible above the sounds of the bustling harbor. She tried to find fault in this enchanting stranger, to convince herself that the woman wasn't as perfect as she appeared, but her efforts were futile. In her heart, she knew that this woman was a reflection of her deepest insecurities.
"Simon always loved the sea," the woman continued, her gaze fixed on the horizon. "He and I would spend hours walking along the shore, hand in hand. He used to say that the ocean was like my soul—vast, mysterious, and full of life."
