Page 56 of The Awful Truth

“What was that awful banging noise?”

“My hands.”

“Doing what?” Miguel asked, now filled with regret for overreacting. Winslow would be humiliated on top of everything else.

“I slapped the wall. I don’t recommend it. It still hurts.”

11:52 A.M.

TED

Ted woke to the sound of someone shouting outside his door. He had been dead to the world and was disoriented in that way one is when they sleep too long during the day. Instead of getting up to investigate what was going on outside his room, he lay still, blinking for solid minute as he tried to determine if the yelling was real or was part of a dream. He could hear the faint beat of a familiar rock song but couldn’t quite place it.

The shouting—if it was real—had stopped. Then he heard the sounds of footsteps pounding in the hallway, stopping somewhere nearby. And more yelling, but it didn’t sound angry. It was authoritative. What the hell was going on? Was it a fight or an emergency? Sniffing, he sat up and grabbed his phone off the night table. God, he had really overslept. He’d only meant to have a short nap, but here it was nearly noon.

He smiled to himself as the reason he’d needed such a big sleep came to mind. His night with Char had been incredible. They’d never made love quite like that before. It had always been amazing, but last night it was nothing short of magical. Women seemed to go the extra mile when the word forever was dangled. Not that he didn’t mean it. Because he did. Well, sort of. It would be complicated as all hell to make that happen. But the way she looked at him last night would make it all worth it.

He had set the alarm on his phone so that Charlotte could drift off to sleep in his arms (because she deserved to fall asleep in his arms for once). His last thoughts were of Antonia somehow evaporating into thin air so he could lie naked with Charlotte every night and wake up next to her, their bodies tangled together every morning. It was so easy with her. She wasn’t demanding or judgmental. She made him feel smarter, stronger, wittier. She looked up to him, which is something Antonia had never done, even in the beginning.

He knew he shouldn’t want a woman to look up to him. It was unhealthy, even a little perverse, and the therapist in him had once questioned whether his attraction to Charlotte was a reaction to Quinn leaving the nest. Not because he was attracted to his daughter. That would be sick. But because Quinn looked up to him as if he was the smartest, strongest, bravest man in the world. It was addictive, that feeling. Being the man who could solve any problem, handle any situation. He hadn’t realized how addictive it would be when they had children. But it was. Xavier didn’t look up to his father in that same way. It was as if their son had somehow clocked that Ted was full of shit a lot of the time. But not Quinn. Quinn thought her father was the very best man on the planet.

And as soon as she left for Paris, there was a gaping hole in his ego his daughter used to fill. It was shortly after she moved that Ted had started to pay more attention to Charlotte, who had just been dumped by a total jerkwad. The young idiot couldn’t see the remarkable woman in front of him. She was licking her wounds and had all but given up on men when Ted swooped in. It was all so innocent at first. Ted was a shoulder to cry on—a wise, older man who could offer perspective and wisdom. He complimented her. Carefully. Nothing about her body (which was incredible). Only her mind. He told her how smart she was. How funny and kind. He told her she was the one of the loveliest women he’d ever met. Only a total ass wouldn’t see what he had before him and know how lucky he was. He told her she was rare, like a flawless diamond. She especially seemed to love that.

It grew from there, and within a few months, he was doing something he never thought he would do. Kissing her deeply in the stairwell of the St. Regis, fingertips gripping her hips as he pulled her to him. And now, here he was, in love, with no way to separate himself from his wife without giving up his career, soiling his reputation, and devastating his children.

The second the alarm had gone off in the middle of the night, he silenced it, not wanting to wake her. When he pulled his arm out from under her, she let out a pouty little moan and turned over onto her stomach. God, she was beautiful. It was all he could do not to slide his hand down the length of her naked body and wake her up again for another round. Although, round two after age fifty-four seemed more like a pipe dream than a reality. So he dressed quickly and slipped out, smiling at the fact that he could still smell her on his skin. Then he showered and got into bed with his cold, harpy wife. His life would be so much easier if she just evaporated, like she had in his dream the night before.

Charlotte was right when she said his kids would hate her if he left Antonia for her. Especially Quinn. Xavier wouldn’t be happy about it, but he didn’t care enough about his parents to get worked up about what they did. He’d likely tell Ted he was a dickhead, then he’d change his tune the next time he needed money. But Quinn, his little girl, would be distraught to learn he wasn’t the flawless man she believed him to be. If only there was some way to have his cake and eat it too.

By the time he had gotten up and gone pee, all the ruckus had died down. He grabbed his phone and sent Charlotte a quick text.

Was just dreaming of all the things I’d like to do to you. Can’t wait for tonight.

When he didn’t get a response, he decided to go for a stroll around the yacht, hoping he’d run into her before his wife spotted him. But that wasn’t likely, was it? The woman had eyes like a hawk.

12:11 P.M.

CHARLOTTE

Charlotte was in the wrong part of the yacht—clearly meant for staff only, and her mind immediately flashed to passing by the laundry room at the St. Regis. The desperation she felt that night was nothing compared to now. She’d taken a tiny spiral staircase with utilitarian gray walls so she could avoid the other guests on the way to her room. Every bit of emotion—the horrible shock, the anger, fear, and deep regret—that she had tried to hide during her conversation with Antonia had come spilling out the moment she was alone. Just get to your room. You can stay there until this awful trip is over.

She could fake a migraine, or better yet, a stomach bug. That would keep Ted from trying to sneak in. Charlotte hurried along the narrow hallway past the laundry room, the kitchen, and the engine room. She glanced through the open door of the engine room, only to lock eyes with Oliver, who was working on some big machine. He was in a t-shirt and some shorts and looked sweaty and tired. His expression went from pleasantly surprised to worried in an instant, and Charlotte carried on, hoping he was too busy to talk. But a second later she felt his hand on her bare shoulder.

“Whoa, whoa! Charlotte, what’s wrong?”

Swiping her cheeks of the tears, she turned around and tried to look nonchalant. “Nothing. I…I’m a little lost. I got all turned around on the way back to my room.”

Oliver narrowed his eyes at her answer. “No. I’m not buying it. What happened?”

Suddenly desperate to have someone to talk to, she glanced around to make sure they were alone, then whispered, “She found out.”

“Oh shit. Come on.” Taking her hand, he led her into the engine room and shut the door. “I won’t ask if you’re okay, because clearly you’re not. Did she fire you?”

She shook her head. “No, she was…nice about it.” Her voice cracked, as the memory of Antonia’s hand on hers came to mind. You’re as much a victim as me. “I don’t know what to do. Ted doesn’t know that she knows and she’s making all sorts of moves to protect herself—and me—from the fallout. She was talking about Monica Lewinsky and the media and oh my God, I can’t become the next Monica Lewinsky. The world hated her. She was a joke. But Antonia said they were pinning the blame on the wrong person and really the pathetic middle-aged man who used his power to seduce her is the one who should be the joke. And she’s right,” Charlotte said, nodding. “She’s right about that. But then she said just because that was the way it should go doesn’t mean that’s the way it would go, and the wrong person would probably take the blame this time too.” She took a shaky breath, then went on. “I don’t know what to do. She wants me to pretend everything is fine, and to not…be alone with Ted again. She said I can’t tell him anything either because she’s trying to save us both from this. I don’t know if I can believe her. I mean, how can she not be furious with me? I knew better. I’m not some naive teenager. I knew what I was doing. And I’ve been lying to her and betraying her for months. I don’t think I can trust her.” She looked into Oliver’s eyes. They were so filled with concern that it made her keep talking, even though she knew she probably shouldn’t. “What should I do? Would you trust her?” The walkie-talkie sitting on the toolbox at his feet crackled, then the captain’s voice sounded. “Oliver, it’s getting quite warm up here. What’s happening with the AC?”

Oliver reached down and spoke into the radio. “I’m still working on it, but it’s not looking good.” He returned his attention to her. “I absolutely would not trust her, but I’d trust him even less.”

She nodded quickly. “Yeah, that makes sense. Only…she offered to pay for a lawyer for me. She said I can choose the person myself because I need to be protected. Would she really say that if she didn’t care about me?”