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My heart’s thumping out of my chest, my breaths barely able to escape as I desperately try to stop Charlotte from having to see any of this. I open the text message again, and it definitely is Roxy with dark brown hair, not her usual bleached blonde, one wrist handcuffed to my bed, she’s barely dressed with her legs spread open as she fingers herself.
Unknown number: You wanna taste this again, Lex? Every finger has been in my cunt. Come and get it, baby.
I hate that word, it screams ‘whore.’ I clench my phone, the grip so forceful I can feel it dig into the palm of my hand. The fucking bitch, who does she think she is, and how on earth did she get in!
The elevator is irritatingly slow, and the moment the doors open, I run up to the main bedroom. Roxy is lying on my bed with a smug look on her face as BJ is consoling Charlotte. Even as her husband, there’s no getting through to Charlotte. The pain she’s experiencing is impossible to ignore, her eyes glassy and her posture sunken. BJ holding onto her is questioning my trust, but right now I don’t have a leg to stand on. The damage of my colorful past is sitting right there on my bed.
Charlotte walks away without saying a word. I pull her to me, needing her so desperately, looking for a sign, any sign that she isn’t leaving me. She can barely look me in the eye, but then she says the words calming me the hell down—she isn’t leaving me. I breathe a huge sigh of relief until she mentions him.
It rips through me, the blades slicing me slowly. The cuts are deep, they are starting to bleed. Inside, I’m screaming, the pain so unbearable and the heat, the burning sensation is crawling throughout my skin until finally the doors close behind her, and I’m left with nothing.
All that turns into rage as I stomp back to the room. Without any words, I uncuff Roxy and drag her off the bed. She kicks and screams, calling me every dirty name possible, but I don’t care. I push her into the elevator and press the button to the lobby. When the doors open, everyone turns to look as I pull her arm and push her out of the building and onto the street. Standing there, barely dressed, she curses my name loud enough that across the street people turn, but I simply walk away.
I ride the elevator back upstairs. The first thing I need to do is change my security code and call a locksmith, but suddenly I stop, realizing this place holds nothing for me. This isn’t my home, that’s why I was so reluctant to come back here. This place is a reminder of how I was institutionalized for the last few years. How I was drowning in my own mistakes without a lifejacket to save me.
Pulling my phone out, I call Kate, briefly explaining what happened. She isn’t surprised and also gives me a lecture on my past behavior. Normally, she wouldn’t have had the balls to say shit like that to me, but more so in this moment, I need a friend rather than an employee. I give her instructions to put the penthouse on the market. I’m saying goodbye to another piece of my past.
My vision is blurred as I hear a noise. I have had several drinks trying to erase the memory of the dickhead fucking my Charlotte in what is our home in New York. I close my eyes, willing the torture to stop.
Suddenly, I feel her beside me as she sits down. The silence falls over the room, and she is quick to break it. Charlotte sounds cold, her tone stiff. I’ve grown accustom to this trait as it’s her defensive-lawyer voice. Somewhere in the middle of her words, she slowly slips, and the true Charlotte reveals herself by telling this lame story about college.
The corners of my mouth curl involuntarily, my shoulders moving as I struggle to hold in small fits of laughter bubbling to the surface. Here I am thinking Charlotte is some sex demon with a sordid past, just to be reminded that it’s so far from the truth. Her double-groping session at a drunken frat party is her closest encounter to a ménage à trois. It’s laughable, but somewhere in my insane reasoning, the images find their way back, and I blurt out the pain she caused me.
She doesn’t deny it. Do I honestly believe she is telling lies? And so, it’s done. Parts of our past are brought to the surface once again, and no matter what happens, no matter what we say, every part of me still wants every part of her.
We hit a hurdle but together, we jumped and made it to the other side.
London turns out to be a blessing and a curse. The whole Roxy thing put a massive dampener on the end leg of our so-called honeymoon. The positive being able to restructure the London office which means I will no longer need to be here.
I’m back to being a red-blooded American.
***
Life in New York is busy with Kate and me running the office. Our staff count is larger than London, and business booms. I manage to keep my hours down, wanting to spend as much alone time as possible with Charlotte before the baby comes. It means learning the art of delegation, something I’ve struggled with my whole life, but with Kate, I can trust her.
She proves to be exactly what I need and never once lets me down.
We are still living in Charlotte’s apartment much to my annoyance, however, I’m only tolerating this because bigger things are on the horizon. With life being chaotic combined with our last argument when looking at places to buy, it’s been placed on the backburner but for a very good reason.
I’d been reluctant to broach the subject with Charlotte about a possible move to the West Coast. It’s been in the pipeline for a few years, but I had recently been approached by a head executive of one of the top production companies in LA looking for an investor. But I know Charlotte loves Manhattan, her career and most importantly—her friends. Her whole life is here, and a part of me doesn’t want to cause additional stress because of the baby.
“Yay, Kate’s here. She better have brought that Chinese take-out or you’re toast, Edwards.”
Charlotte makes her way to the front door. Instead of their usual hug, Kate bends down and rubs Charlotte’s stomach. With Charlotte in her second trimester, her stomach is beginning to bulge, and her tits are fucking amazing. By far the best part of pregnancy.
“So, what are we celebrating?” Charlotte asks Kate while unscrewing the cork off a bottle of wine.
Kate glances at me, surprised I haven’t mentioned anything. “Well, I’ve been promoted.”
Charlotte immediately turns my way with a curious stare. “Congratulations! To what?”
Here we go.
Five… four… three… two… one…
“Director of the New York office…” Kate pauses, her eyes warning me now is the time to reveal the reason why.
“But wait a minute, then what will Lex do?”
