Page 63 of Second Chances

Henry’s stomach dropped. He’d support his son’s decision no matter what, but would not look forward to seeing his ex-wife at the wedding. The risk that she could ruin it in some way, or at least dampen the happy day, was too high. Plus, he had no interest in knowing where she was, and the last thing he wanted was an address. “And you’ve decided…?”

“I want our wedding day to be all about love. And when I think about Mom, that’s not what I feel. So no.”

Effie held up her hands. “Okay, I just wanted to check one last time. And with your dad here, in case he had an opinion.”

“I will support whatever Josh wants.” Henry suspected that his son’s stubborn streak would make it impossible for Melanie to be invited, and he hoped that held true.

Their food arrived, and once everyone had their entrée, Charlotte cut into her filet Oscar. “And how are the alterations on your dress coming along?” Effie had mentioned that her gown had been a size too small when it arrived, but with the date of the wedding so close, she had chosen a seamstress in town to do the work.

Between bites of her trout almandine, Effie brought out her phone to show Charlotte pictures of her wedding dress, warning Josh, “No peeking!”

Josh raised his eyebrows. “As if I would ever. I fully respect your wish to knock me off my feet on our wedding day.” He brought Effie’s hand to his mouth to kiss the top. “Like you do every day.”

“Oh, babe.” With her other hand on the back of Josh’s neck, Effie pulled his head to hers. Henry’s heart warmed with the easy affection his son shared with Effie.

Charlotte scrolled through several photos of Effie wearing her altered gown, and tears caught in her throat. “Oh, Effie, it is stunning. I can’t wait to see you in it in person.” Nor could she wait to be on the arm of the man sitting next to her, and she tingled as his hand stroked up her knee to the inside of her thigh.

Their server, Nevaeh, came around to ask about dessert, and Effie yawned. “Yes, but can we get ours to go? I’ve had a long day. The girls had cross-country practice at five this morning, so this early bird needs her nest.”

“No problem,” Neveah responded. “My sister woke me up this morning when she left for it, so I get it. Everyone for takeout dessert then?” Charlotte nodded after confirming with Henry.

With their desserts between them in the front seat, Charlotte studied Henry behind the wheel of her Tempest, excruciatingly attractive. Moving the food to the back, she leaned over the expanse of the front seat and ran her hand down his arm. “Do you know how sexy you are, Henry?”

He shook his head, chuckling as he slipped the key into the ignition. “Is it the shirt? Effie said you’d like it.”

Sliding closer to him, Charlotte pressed her lips to his ear, “Oh, it’s the shirt, but mostly it’s the man in the shirt.” Powerless to keep her hands off him, she hooked one leg over his lap, thankful that both the design of her classic car and the cut of her skirt allowed her enough room to sit astride his lap. Henry had mindfully parked the car at the far end of the lot, telling her that it was well away from anyone who might ding one of the doors, and at this moment, Charlotte appreciated his carefulness even more. Cupping his aroused face in her hands, she kissed him, softly at first, until one of them deepened it. Charlotte tore her lips from his. “I’ve wanted you all night.” Her hand slid down the front of his chest, popping the snaps, until she reached his waistband.

“Charlotte,” Henry growled, “all I could think of during dinner was how the candlelight twinkling in your hair made me want to see your curls around your bare shoulders, like this.” He gently tugged the shoulders of her dress down. “Because then I could tip your head back, and do this.” His tongue tasted her neck, sucking at the base, before his lips moved down, pulling on the neck of her dress even more until he exposed the lacy cups of her bra. “And then I’d remember how your thighs are so warm…so soft…and all I wanted was to be between them.” She gripped his shoulders as she cried into his mouth.

Forgetting about his car at Charlotte’s, they ended up at Henry’s house because it was closer to the restaurant. In his bed, he drew a circle on Charlotte’s stomach with his thumb, unable to remember a time of greater contentment.

Brushing her own fingers through his silky chest hair, Charlotte waited breathlessly for his hand to make its way lower. “Henry.” She hungered for more as his fingers fluttered across her hip. He had a way of holding her hips and using his thumbs to apply just the right amount of pressure. “There,” she told him, and he swallowed the sounds of her pleasure. Wearing his shirt, Charlotte urged Henry onto his back. With her dark hair falling around her shoulders and her brown eyes hooded with desire, her voice was husky when she commanded him, “I’m going to need you to be really still while I do this.”

Mindless, he could only nod, having lost his ability to speak, but he couldn’t have made a sound even if he wanted to. All he cared about was the sight of her, the weight of her, and the smell of her, and how insanely erotic she was, with his shirt hanging open, allowing him free access to stroke every inch of her ripe, velvety skin.

Leaning back on her heels while Henry gripped her hips, Charlotte kept her eyes on him, his expression nearly undoing her, with passion and need that mirrored her own. Bending slightly toward him, every thought fled as he bucked beneath her.

Waking later in his arms, Charlotte surveyed his chiseled face, awed at how serene he looked while sleeping. Carefully, she smoothed his hair back from his forehead, wondering how the man who performed such devilish acts on her body managed to look so angelic. Her stomach grumbled, and she realized it was after eleven in the morning. Their desserts had been forgotten in the car last night, their only focus on getting to his bedroom. Gently extricating herself from his arms, she snapped up his shirt and slipped on a pair of comfy shorts she had brought with her a couple of nights ago. Sliding her feet into her flip-flops, Charlotte padded out of the room after a last wistful glance at his sleeping form. Bouncing down the stairs, she went straight for his refrigerator to see what he had inside, inspired to make Henry a hearty breakfast. Although this was the first time Charlotte could put Henry’s kitchen to use, wanting to cook for Henry had been at the top of her mind all week, but they’d each been busy. The night before last, she had a staff meeting that ran until late in the evening, so they had met up at Betsy’s diner for malts, then walked around the pond in the town square before making their way back to his house on foot. The night before that, they’d gone to Steiner Cinema to see a campy musical version of The Big Lebowski called When the Dude Abides, and both of them had laughed until they each had tears streaming from their eyes. Humming, she extricated eggs, sausage, and milk from the fridge.

Upstairs, Henry rolled over to find the other side of the bed disappointingly empty and unappealingly cold. Wondering where Charlotte had gone, he was ready to swing his legs from under the covers when a voice rose from the ground level. Smiling, he listened as she sang along to Reba. Was that bacon he smelled? And sausage? If not for his open eyes, he would believe he must be dreaming until a buzz from the bedside table made him reach for his phone, turning everything into a nightmare. Not now, he thought with a grimace, regretting his decision to unblock his ex. He’d only done so to stop the strange phone calls to the shop from continuing, most of which came in well before the shop was open, as if the caller somehow knew Henry would be the only one there to answer the phone. Except for a sharp intake of breath when he picked up the call, followed by a few seconds of light breathing, the person on the other end remained silent until they hung up. At first, he’d demanded Melanie to say something, but after a few calls, he stopped, uninterested in playing her games. Hoping she would stop pestering him on his work phone, he had unblocked her on his cell yesterday. Now she texted:

Well, well, well. Look who misses me.

I won’t pretend I wasn’t hurt when you blocked me. Now that you’ve changed it, I assume you’re ready to communicate with me?

Henry, please, I’ll explain everything. Call me?

The three texts she’d sent minutes apart. And then:

Please, Henry, I know I pushed too much

I promise I’m not playing games.

We need to talk, ASAP.

Running his hands over his face, he knew the last thing he wanted was Melanie ruining his time with Charlotte, so he deleted the messages. Reaching back to the table to disconnect his phone from the charger, Henry looked down at his chest at the red marks Charlotte had scored with her nails. Tracing his fingers over them, he shivered as he replayed the image of her on his lap in the Tempest. She’d been insatiable, they both had, and if he tilted his head just so, he could still hear her gasping cries in his ear. Unfolding his tall frame from the bed, Henry grabbed a pair of shorts from his dresser and from the chair next to the mirror, the ancient Rolling Stones T-shirt Charlotte had worn a week ago, the first time they’d spent the night together. His body responded to the memory of her in the shirt, and her light sent still clung to the material.

Once he had brushed his teeth and combed his hair into some semblance of order, Henry made his way down the stairs, relishing the cool wood floor under his bare feet. A few years after moving into the house, he and Josh had torn up the carpet, exposing the beautiful hardwood underneath. That same winter, he, Josh, George, and all three nephews (Liam, Daniel, and Felix) spent weekends sanding and staining the old floorboards until they gleamed. His niece, Cait, had supervised with her keen eyes, pointing out when someone missed a spot.