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Her gleaming eyes are back on me. “Do I?”
It’s a kick to the guts that she feels the need to ask. “Greg sounds like a jerk who never deserved you.”
She says nothing. Just stares back at me.
The only good thing right now is that Charlotte is furious with Max, not me. I hand the door off to him and step through. “You guys can fight among yourselves. I’ll see you later.”
I’ve barely taken two steps toward the hallway when Max calls after me. “Oh, you were right about one thing.”
The surprise at hearing the words “you were right” fall from my eldest brother’s lips brings me to a halt. “Astound me.”
“Mom’s birthday. My spa idea. Yeah. Not my best.”
I’m tempted to crow, but just his mere acceptance of the fact I was right and, more importantly, he was wrong, is enough.
Charlotte glares at him, seemingly stunned that he’s brushed aside how upset she is that he broke her confidence and has moved on to a casual chat about our mom’s birthday.
“Your idea was better,” he continues. “Let’s take her to her favorite garden center and tell her to go wild.”
“I’m happy you’ve seen the light on at least one thing today.” He’s definitely less uptight since being with Polly. And perhaps this is a sign he’s even learning it’s okay to loosen his controlling grip in some ways—if not in the ways I want right now.
As I head out, he looks at Charlotte. “Whatever it was you booked for her, cancel it.”
I’m barely around the corner to the elevators when Charlotte’s voice follows me down the hallway. “I said, I heard everything.”
If it were possible for me to spin around without reinjuring my back, I would. Instead, I slowly rotate my entire body one hundred and eighty degrees.
Charlotte wears the expression of one of those cartoon bulls that paws at the ground and blows steam from its nostrils. Except way prettier, and with much nicer legs.
Since she’s obviously mad at me too, now is probably not the best moment for me to be admiring the bare calves below her knee-length skirt, but they are so perfectly curved and taper in to the sexiest ankles I’ve ever seen. Ankles. How are ankles hot? No one has hot ankles. Except Charlotte, obviously.
I haul my focus upwards, over the tight skirt hugging her thighs and hips, over the lace bra showing slightly through her white top, and settle on her steaming-furious face. “I thought it was Max you were cross with. What have I done to upset you?”
I step forward to close the distance between us, but she holds up a palm to stop me.
“I said no, Elliot.” She whisper-shouts through gritted teeth to prevent her voice carrying into the adjacent offices. “I said that you and me can’t happen.”
“I know. But you said it was only because of the subclause thing, so I thought I’d try to get Max to?—”
“It was only about that. But now I know you’d talk to my boss about it, it’s about a whole lot more.”
I instinctively step forward again, this time ignoring the palm she raises, desperate to set her straight. A jitter of dread rises from my stomach to my chest. She’s obviously misunderstood.
“I didn’t tell Max anything,” I insist. “Nothing about what ha?—”
She slams a finger to her lips to shush me.
“Not a thing,” I whisper.
“You asked him to change the company policy, and to scrap your family agreement.” I didn’t know it was possible for such a quiet voice to be so full of hurt.
She’s disappointed in me. I have disappointed Charlotte. And that makes me more disappointed in myself than I ever imagined possible.
She might not want to be with me, but I certainly don’t want her to hate me.
My brain scrambles to salvage the situation. “Yes. But that’s all I did. I didn’t say why. I didn’t tell him anything else.” I check behind me to be sure no one’s within earshot of even my hushed voice. “I didn’t tell him anything about what happened in Plainsville.”
“I should hope not. Seeing as absolutely nothing did.” She jabs her drink toward me, almost hitting me in the chest, the ice now sounding like maracas, the straw waggling from side to side.
