Page 67 of Second Chances

With a groan, Henry squinted up at Charlotte, making him look more like his son’s age than a man pushing sixty. “What time is it now?” Even his scratchy morning voice was unbelievably arousing.

Charlotte giggled. “It’s almost eight.” Henry had woken her early this morning, slipping his hands under her pajama top, while sucking gently on her neck. She luxuriated in his attention and the multitude of ways he showed her how important she was to him, like last night at the wedding rehearsal, when he treated her like a member of his family and not just his date. With her parents gone and her daughter a state away, she was grateful to be part of the boundless love of the Livingston family. Dinner followed the rehearsal, with food trucks lining the shores of Lake Shelley in the city park. By the time Henry and Charlotte had made it home, it was almost midnight. The one drawback to the evening was Diadema, whose frown and piercing gaze made her annoyance that Charlotte and Henry were a couple perfectly clear, and Charlotte couldn’t help but return a few of her own disapproving glances.

In her defense, every time Charlotte looked at the woman, she couldn’t help but recall the morning when Diadema had arrived, uninvited, at Henry’s house, shocked to find another woman answering his door, visibly bristling at the sight of Charlotte wearing Henry’s shirt. Attempting modesty, Charlotte had pulled the collar tightly together, too aware that she had not yet put on her bra. Diadema’s judgmental eyes had traveled from her chest down to Charlotte’s bare legs, reddened by Henry’s facial scruff. The length of his shirt covered the shorts she wore, making it appear, Charlotte knew, as if she had no pants on. With a last, contemptuous glance at toes painted a bright blue, Diadema looked past Charlotte into Henry’s living room. “I would like to speak with Henry,” she demanded, her wide mouth pulled into a frown.

Charlotte, refusing to be dismissed, responded, “Well Diadema, it’s nice to see you again.” She waited for her to return the greeting, and when none came, she asked, “What brings you by so early?”

“I checked for Henry at the shop and since he wasn’t there, I came over here. It’s almost ten.”

Charlotte explained, “He’s not working today.”

“So I was told, which is why I’m here now. I really need to speak with him.”

“Well, I’m sorry, but he’s upstairs.” The petty side of Charlotte hoped the other woman would think that meant he was still in bed, obviously completely exhausted after spending the night with her in it. “Can I take a message?” She would be damned if she would step aside and let Diadema manipulate her way into Henry’s house.

“I would rather speak to him in person, if you don’t mind. There are things going on he needs to know about.” Diadema kept her eyes trained to the inside of the house, refusing to look at Charlotte.

Beneath her icy exterior, for the briefest moment, Charlotte glimpsed a crack in the other woman’s facade and softened her tone. “Diadema…DD…you should probably just go home. Or go to your daughter’s.”

At that moment, Henry bounced down the stairs. “God, it smells so good in here. What do you say we take breakfast upstairs?” He stopped in his tracks.

Stepping back so Henry could stand in the doorway, she dipped her head in relief when his mouth grazed her forehead with a tender kiss. “What are you doing here, DD?” Charlotte noted the exasperation in his voice.

Diadema’s bottom lip quivered as she said, “It’s Burnside; Henry, we’ve just received some terrible news.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, and I hope he’ll be okay, but you need to go and see your daughter. I can’t help you.”

“I don’t want to worry Euphemie, not when it’s so close to the wedding. I need a friend…I need you.” Diadema sniffed into a tissue.

“I’m sorry, but we talked about this.” Henry’s tone was gentle but firm. “Call Nora. Go see Hamilton. Talk to Effie.”

Charlotte stepped out of sight from the doorway, believing Diadema would leave more easily if she didn’t see her. “Henry,” Charlotte heard her begin, “I just wanted⁠—”

“I understand, DD, but you’ll be alright,” he assured her. “Go see your daughter.” Henry softly closed the door.

Diadema’s appearance that day had not affected the budding relationship between Henry and Charlotte, who hadn’t spent a night apart since their first date. But she couldn’t deny the queasy sensation when she thought about the other woman.

Caressing the bunched muscles in his back, she hesitated before she said, “Henry, do you think Diadema is going to be okay today? I didn’t say anything last night, but every time I tried to talk to her, she walked away.” Henry lifted himself up on his elbow and tucked a curl behind her ear, concern making him frown. Trying to downplay it, she assured him, “It was nothing, really, but I just want everything to be perfect for Effie and Josh, and if I⁠—”

“I hope you’re not about to bail on being my date for the wedding.” Her heart swelled as his calloused hands cupped her cheeks. “Aside from the bride, you’ll be the most beautiful woman there, and I intend to dance every dance I can with you tonight. Don’t worry about today. I’m sure DD will be on her best behavior, or face the wrath of Effie. Or Nora. Or Trixie.”

“I can understand if Diadema is struggling. Effie mentioned last night that it might be difficult today, thinking about her dad and wishing he could be there. I can only imagine her mother feels the same.”

“You’re so compassionate.” Henry’s mouth brushed across hers. “Especially considering she hasn’t done much to deserve it, where you’re concerned.”

Charlotte shrugged. “I know what it’s like to lose someone you care about. I haven’t lost a great love, like Diadema did, but the death of my parents was crushing. It still is.” Fingernails drifting up and down his bicep, she reflected, “I was lucky, though, to have my parents there when I married Brady. I can’t imagine how Josh is feeling today, without his mom there. I mean, she has this amazing son here with no idea of the kind of man he’s become.” Tears filled her eyes at the losses both Effie and Josh had faced in their young lives.

Henry’s blue gaze stared down at her, solemn, as his hand rested on her belly. “I have to tell you something.”

Charlotte braced herself for whatever was to come. “What?”

He paused briefly, then said, “She does know. A little bit. Melanie. She used to call me, after Josh came back two years ago.”

“Okay.” When he didn’t continue, she wondered why he was bringing it up now.

Then he rushed on: “The thing is, she used to call my dad occasionally throughout the years, which I wasn’t aware of. When she found out that Josh had left New York City and was living here, that’s when I discovered she had been in touch with my dad, because she called me, hysterical, lecturing me, paranoid Josh was going to give up being a surgeon.”

“Instead, he found something more fulfilling—someone to share the life he was building. While still being a surgeon in South Dakota.”