"Charlotte, you know what I'm getting at," Nick said in a soothing tone. "I like that you're in Detroit now. I think that the city has a different vibe for you that's coming out on the page in a wonderful way. But even I know about your relationship with Jordan King, and based on the chapters you sent me, I'm assuming things aren't going well."
"That would be a correct assumption," she mumbled.
"I just need you to find a way to push it out of your mind," he said. "Regardless of what is going on in your life, you shouldn't punish Harper for your struggles."
She always loved hearing Nick refer to her characters as if they were real people that she was punishing or befriending or rooting for when they really didn't exist. It was something that made her realize he was the right editor for her.
"I'll try to make it work," she said.
"With Harper or Jordan?" Nick asked, a teasing tone in his voice.
Charlotte smiled. "Harper is much easier to figure out."
One of the side effects of Charlotte's fight with Jordan was that she wasn't going to games regularly anymore. It was the right decision for now, and she was glad she didn't have to see Jordan play or hear fans who were complete strangers ask her about her love life. On the other hand, she hadn't seen her friends as often either. She was missing the Wards and figured she should at least try to see them outside of the arena if she wanted to see them at all. Today, it was a much needed lunch with Rachel.
Charlotte sat down in her living room with some stale coffee she had brewed the day before — another thing she had to do on her own again now that Jordan wasn't at her apartment. She turned on the afternoon news expecting the weather report but landed right at the end of a sports segment.
"Wow, Jordan King has had quite a bit of bad luck, hasn't he?" bantered the news anchor with the big hair.
"He definitely seems to have had his scoring streak knocked out of him since the night he fought Declan Reed in New York."
"And now this injury against Washington last night."
Charlotte sat up and stared at the screen in disbelief. An injury?
"Hopefully, we'll find out later today how bad it is."
The woman behind the anchor desk grimaced. "Let's hope he can get his love life worked out or we won't make it out of the first round of the playoffs, will we?"
The anchors had a friendly chuckle between the two of them before the woman with the big hair teased some stupid story about a flower show this weekend and they broke to a commercial. Charlotte, meanwhile, was running to her computer to start up her web browser. All she had to do was type "Jordan King" into the search bar to get a long list of news stories about the captain of the Pirates, who had been injured the night before in a playoff game during their first round against Washington. Of course, the team was sticking to its typical "upper-body injury," making it impossible to know what was actually wrong with him or how bad it was. Some fan sites speculated that he had bruised his ribs and reporters had confirmed with "team insiders" (whoever they were) that it was something to do with his ribcage.
Charlotte instinctively reached for the cell phone lying next to her computer and almost dialed his number. Then she stopped, once again doubting herself when it came to how to best approach Jordan. Besides, maybe he was sleeping or in pain and why would he want to talk to her like that? Maybe he thought she was only calling because he was hurt and not because she actually wanted to talk to him.
So instead, Charlotte quietly set the phone down and purposely walked through her secret door into her closet. She passed the shelves and racks of dresses and fancy clothes before settling on a gray hoodie with a black tank top underneath and a pair of jeans. Some days she didn't mind dressing up, but she had invited Rachel over for a relaxing lunch and she was going to be relaxed.
She was about to grab more coffee when the doorman buzzed to let Rachel up, then cracked the door open and headed back to the counter, pouring herself another cup.
"Charlotte?" Rachel asked as she poked her head in the door.
"Hey!" She walked over and gave the woman a hug, making sure not to spill her mug.
"Smells like coffee," Rachel said as she walked over to the kitchen counter to put down a big take-out bag.
"It is."
Rachel gave her a little smirk. "Little late for that, don't you think?"
"It's been a long day already."
Rachel began pulling out the Styrofoam containers from the bag. "Lamb souvlaki. I promise you this is from the best Greek place in the area, and you know there are a lot of choices around here."
"Oh, I know," she said, grabbing two forks from the kitchen. "That's been one of the down sides of moving here."
"What are the other down sides?" Rachel asked, grabbing her food and heading to the table.
"The Polish food, the Faygo, the Lafayette Coney Island."
Rachel smiled as she sat down at the kitchen table. "I'm so glad you've seen it my way." She gave Charlotte a determined smile. "Maybe there's also something else?"
