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“Do I need to sign anything?” Drake croaked, as if he hadn’t spoken much this morning.
“No. I reversed the charges on your card, so you’re all set,” I said stoically, while begging myself not to ask him to stay. To try.
“What?” Izzy was aghast.
I should have given her a heads-up, but I didn’t want her to talk me out of it. As much as I wanted the chandelier, I wasn’t going to let Drake pay for it. Money was the last thing I ever wanted from him.
Izzy wasn’t the only one unhappy about my decision, given Drake’s narrowed eyes and furrowed brow.
“Can I speak to you privately?” He was obviously displeased.
I bit my lip. I kind of thought we had said all we needed to say to each other last night. And I didn’t want to be alone with him. He made me feel things I shouldn’t. He’d made his choice a long time ago and it wasn’t me. And worse, he wasn’t choosing Jameson. Again, I knew I had sprung that one on him, but I’d hoped some dad gene would kick in and he’d get all paternal.
“Please,” Drake added.
“Okay,” I sighed. I turned to Izzy and handed her the flash cards. “Can you do these with Jameson, please?”
She nodded and gave me a be-very-very-careful-with-him look. She liked how things had turned out. No guilt for me and Drake stays out of our lives. It was a good theory. And I understood why Izzy had her misgivings about Drake. She’d always thought he’d taken advantage of me, but believe me, it was a mutual seduction fest that weekend. I was a full participant in every event. Then there was the fact that she had been co-parenting Jameson with me.
Poor Izzy could never have any of her own babies, and oh, how she wanted them. She and her ex, Jared, had tried everything but adoption, which he was adamantly against. It was a huge contention point in their marriage. So, when Jameson came along, she’d poured all of her mothering into him. She was amazing and I was so grateful for her. I understood being afraid of having to share Jameson with Drake. But no one would ever replace Izzy in Jameson’s life. She was Jameson’s ‘Iz’.
The thing is, being in Drake’s presence again didn’t have me thanking my lucky stars it hadn’t worked out between us. I wish I could say that was the case. It would hurt a whole lot less than feeling the way I did now. As if my soul were screaming that it was at home with him. I had felt like that since the first moment we met, during the interview process. Something just clicked. My heart told me that day that we were meant to be in each other’s lives. I’d laughed at myself for thinking such a thing, but the more I got to know him, the more I knew it was true. We were like a set that should have never been sold separately, but somehow, we’d made it back to each other.
Izzy never understood that. She thought it was purely physical. There was nothing further from the truth. But I get why she never believed me. Drake hadn’t exactly treated me as if I were his soul mate. I mean, he was getting ready to walk out the door for the rest of my life, just like he had so easily let me leave over six years ago. It was ridiculous to think there was anything between us worth holding on to.
With that sobering thought, I motioned for him to follow me to the office across the hall. All while I promised myself I wouldn’t be foolish. The writing was on the wall—Drake didn’t want me or my son. He dropped his luggage in the hall and followed me.
Once inside, I closed the French doors and stood as far away from him as possible—against the back wall near the record player George had wanted to keep here. He’d said Daisy would want it that way. I played her favorite Dean Martin albums often.
I folded my arms across my body, trying to comfort myself. “What do you want?” I spoke in hushed tones.
“Why would you cancel my payment?” Drake spoke quietly as well, to make sure our conversation was kept private.
“That’s all you want to know? You could have asked me that out there.” I rolled my eyes. “Bye, Drake.” I pushed off the wall with the intent of heading back to my kiddo.
On my way out, he gently grabbed my arm. “Charlotte, please.” He sounded tired and exasperated.
“Please, what?” I looked up into his worn and restless eyes, wondering if he ever missed me. Did he ever wake up in the middle of the night and reach for me, the way I had done so many times, only to be left feeling empty? Did he ever hear my voice, the way I would hear him sometimes whisper in the dark, “Charlotte, I wish we could stay like this forever”?
