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I try my best to dive into our Monday morning meeting and distract myself with work, but that dream keeps replaying in my mind. After lunch, I cave and text him. I know he’ll be on the plane, so I don’t expect an instant response, but when his text finally comes through, my heart jumps around like a lovesick moron.
The rest of the day, we text back and forth until he asks me if I miss him. I want to call him and tell him about my dream, how the thought of it becoming a reality sends shivers throughout me but in a good way. Still, I don’t know exactly what type of relationship he wants, and so the guard stays up. The one that reminds me every day to be cautious, not to get hurt because if that were to happen again, there’s no way I’ll ever recover.
After a
long day, I head home and fall into bed tossing and turning the entire night, not sure if I actually fell asleep or not. I grab my phone and do what I’m desperate to do—I answer his question and tell him I miss him.
The next few days drag on, but I keep myself as busy as possible. Spending time with Will brightens my mood.
Shopping with Eric proves to be a stress reliever right up until we enter Victoria’s Secret with Eric’s intention of buying stuff for Lex to see on me.
“Charlie, seriously, you would rock this.” He holds up a fluorescent pink thong which actually is just a piece of string.
“Eric, what do you think is the purpose of that?”
“I don’t know… to floss the folds?”
I burst out laughing unable to control myself. Eric joins me. He seriously has no clue about women or what goes on down there.
“How about this?” He holds up some lacy number.
“Let’s get out of here,” I tell him, grabbing the panties and taking them to the counter.
As the days pass, I’m amazed at how much work I achieve. Tate finally closes the Vandercamp case and, of course, Mrs. Vandercamp is elated. Turns out Mr. Vandercamp’s mistress left him as well, so she’s celebrating for two reasons. I normally don’t mix business with pleasure, but when she invites me out for a celebratory drink, I don’t hesitate.
It’s probably my first weekend in God knows how long where I spend it by myself. Apart from Saturday morning attending Will’s ball game, I spend most of the day doing boring stuff. The usual laundry, cleaning the apartment, and so on. By late Saturday afternoon, I’m feeling restless and text Adriana asking her if I can come over.
Dressed in a pair of jeans and my leather jacket, I grab my helmet and make my way downstairs to the garage. I still remember the day when Rocky and Nikki scolded me for purchasing a motorcycle, an impulse buy a year ago when I sold some shares which I had invested in years ago.
During my high school years, I’d jumped on the back of Finn’s bike and loved the adrenalin rush. It had always been on my bucket list to own a bike, and I promised Nikki I’d take lessons.
The instructor was smokin’ hot, and yes, he was one of my five. It lasted three minutes. Three minutes of my life I’d never get back.
As I rev the bike, the adrenalin runs through me. With my helmet on, I ride out of my garage and through the city then over the Williamsburg Bridge. The thrill of the ride is exactly what I need. I don’t know why I don’t do it more often—lack of time, I guess.
I park the bike and yank my helmet off, letting my hair loose. Securing the bike, I make my way up the steps, then press the buzzer on the brownstone building to be greeted by Adriana.
“Char, that was quick. How on earth did you… no freaking way!” She races down the steps to my bike. “OMG, I love it! It’s so Dylan McKay back in the 90210 days.”
She sits on the bike, pretending to ride it. “Take me for a ride, pretty please?”
“I didn’t bring my other helmet. Actually, it’s permanently in Rocky’s closet now. He rides the bike more than me.”
Adriana pouts before peeling herself off. Disappointed, she takes me upstairs.
Elijah is on the couch playing some Xbox game. He stops to hug me, then resumes his battle with some ax-wielding lunatic. Adriana leads me to her guest room. Upon entering, I’m not surprised it has been turned into wedding central.
“Okay, so I’ve narrowed it down to the pale pink or lilac dress. Can you please try them on?”
I don’t mind, happy Adriana will finally get her fairy-tale wedding. In true Adriana style, this will be one extravagant event. Every tiny detail is written, drawn, or pictured on her drawing board.
“Where’s your dress, Adriana?”
I have been waiting a lifetime to see this. She has been picking out wedding dresses since we were eight, but I can only assume her taste has changed a lot since then.
“Ahh, yes, all will be revealed. I want you, Eric, and Nikki at the final fitting.”
