AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Looking Charlotte in the eyes, Simon continued gently, "You're right that there's more to it. Isla didn't just show up out of the blue. We've been in contact again recently."
Charlotte inhaled sharply but remained silent, waiting for him to explain further.
"She asked to give things another try between us," Simon confessed. "But I was very clear that my heart lies with you now." He took Charlotte's hands in his own. "You have to believe me, there is nothing left between Isla and I. Seeing her here only confirmed that for me."
Charlotte searched his earnest face. She could see the truth in his words. Nodding slowly, she squeezed his hands.
"Okay," she said simply. "I believe you."
The relief on Simon's face was evident. He drew her close once more. Charlotte rested her head on his shoulder once more, but she was far from placated. Isla had come just to sign divorce papers after all this time? Her arrival seemed too coincidental, too perfectly timed, just as things between Charlotte and Simon were progressing.
Why was Isla really here?
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Charlotte stood at the window in the ballroom, gazing out at the rocky coastline bathed in morning light. The waves crashed and foamed against the cliffs, the sound both soothing and sorrowful—and the turmoil of the water mirrored her own inner tumult. She had set up her easel and paints, but she was having trouble really getting into the landscape she was painting. Charlotte started when she heard the door open behind her.
Charlotte turned to see her Amelia breeze into the room, cheeks flushed.
"Oh, hi, Mom," Amelia said. "I was looking for you. I'm heading into town to meet up with some friends."
Charlotte opened her mouth to ask who exactly these "friends" were, but stopped herself.
Nathan.
Amelia was an adult now, she reminded herself. Still, it was hard not to worry.
"Have fun," she said instead. "We'll catch up at dinner?"
"Yeah, sure thing," Amelia replied over her shoulder, already rushing out the door again.
Charlotte sighed, turning back to the window. So much change, so fast. She could only pray they were headed for brighter shores. Charlotte watched Amelia hurry down the garden path and out the front gate, her daughter's carefree spirit both enviable and concerning. She knew Amelia was exploring her newfound independence, but Charlotte wished they could share more of this journey together.
Left alone again in the vastness of the ballroom, Charlotte's gaze returned to the restless sea. She reached for her phone, scrolling through her contacts until she found Roxanne's name. She hesitated for a moment, remembering the unreturned text from the day before. With a deep breath, she tapped out a new message:
"Roxanne, can we talk? I really need my sister right now."
She hit send, hoping for a response this time, but the immediate silence from her phone was disheartening. Charlotte set the device aside, feeling a twinge of loneliness.
Her thoughts then turned to Simon. She remembered his text from earlier, saying he'd be working late. With Isla in town, Charlotte couldn't help but feel a bit uneasy. She quickly composed a message to him:
"Hope work is going well. Just checking in. Miss you."
She knew he was probably too busy to reply right away, but sending the message gave her a small sense of connection. Her phone remained quiet, adding to the growing sense of isolation.
With a heavy heart, Charlotte turned her attention back to her painting. She picked up her brush, dipped it in paint, and tried to lose herself in the strokes. The canvas before her was a landscape of the cove, but her brushstrokes were hesitant, lacking the usual passion she poured into her art. Frustrated, Charlotte set down her brush, stepping back to look at her work. The painting was a reflection of her inner state: fragmented, unresolved, a mix of vibrant hues and somber shades. She realized she was trying to paint calmness into a scene that was as turbulent as her emotions.
With a sigh, Charlotte cleaned her brushes, her mind still a whirlpool of thoughts. She decided to give herself a break, hoping that a little distance might bring clarity to both her art and her life. She turned off the lights, leaving the ballroom and its unfinished painting behind, stepping out into the bright morning light, searching for a moment of peace amidst the chaos.
***
The moment’s peace had not come until evening. After the ballroom, Charlotte had been kept so occupied by her guests that she hadn’t been able to break free until late in the evening.
Now, Charlotte clicked off the bedside lamp, enveloping her room in darkness. She slid under the cool sheets, the soft mattress molding to her weary body. She closed her eyes, yearning for the oblivion of sleep, but her mind continued to churn.
Isla. The name drifted through Charlotte's thoughts like a haunting refrain. She pictured Isla's flawless features and stylish clothes, so effortlessly elegant. Charlotte glanced down at her faded pajamas, feeling frumpy and dull in comparison.
With a sigh, she rolled over, punching her pillow in frustration. She couldn't understand what brought Isla here after all these years. Did she want Simon back? The idea made Charlotte's stomach knot.
