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As always, I crept into the room. Best to have the memories not hit me all at once. The old ones and the new ones. I’d fallen asleep with him a few times during his stay. It was probably foolish to tempt fate, but I’d kept to my new rule about “sleeping” with him. But there was something about slumbering in his arms and waking up to his kisses. It’s where I belonged. A place where I had him all to myself instead of having to share him with the world. In his arms, I wasn’t cute and perky—I was desired and beautiful.
I had to give it to the man for leaving the room as meticulous as he’d found it. For someone who had more than one maid, he was good about cleaning up after himself. He’d even made the bed. And . . . left a note by the looks of it. I hoped it wasn’t another partially written one. I was hopeful, as it was neatly folded instead of crumpled.
I dashed toward the bed and plucked the note from the pillow infused with his intoxicating scent. That baby was coming downstairs with me. Might as well torture myself some more and literally cling to his scent at night.
He’d once again used some of the inn’s stationery.
I sat on the bed and carefully unfolded the note, anxious to know his thoughts.
Dear Charlotte,
I can’t sleep for missing having you in my arms. I keep telling myself to go downstairs and beg you to let me hold you, but I’m feeling all too human already. I’m afraid if I do, I’ll be yours to command. How can you love me, Charlotte? Your words and feelings are weighing heavily on me. They are challenging me to confront my past and parents. Jameson asked me to do the same before he died, to right our wrongs. Not even for him have I been able to. I’ve been too damn weak. But for you, Charlotte, I want to—because I need you. I’ve gone my entire life making sure I never needed anyone, and then came you. You have rendered me human and vulnerable. It’s infuriating, yet I can’t help but love you. Yes, I love you. I can’t say for how long, because I’ve spent so much time and energy trying to deny it. But I’m tired of fighting it—you.
I keep asking myself, how can I give you what you want? Maybe the better question is, how can I not? I don’t want a life without you and our son. Please, give me time. How much, I don’t know. I don’t think you know what you’re asking of me. It’s not just about my pride. It runs much deeper than that. What if I find out I truly am the bastard I’ve made myself out to be? Where would that leave us? I can hardly stand the thought.
All I know now is that I love you. I long for the time when there is nothing between us, both figuratively and literally. I want to feel your warm skin against mine and breathe in each breath you take. Until that time, I will relive in my mind every human moment we have had together.
All my love,
Drake
I lay back against the bed, hardly able to catch my breath after such a letter. I gripped the comforter, aching to feel him lying there next to me. To be very human together. I hoped with all that I was that he would find the strength to face his demons, knowing he didn’t have to do it alone, if only he would be vulnerable enough to let me help. Because I didn’t want a life without him in it. I was ready to fight. I had an idea of where to start—I just hoped Drake wouldn’t be too furious about it. But a girl has to do what a girl has to do.
Chapter Twenty-Six
“Hello, is this Calvin Foster?” I gripped my cell phone tightly, not believing I was actually doing this. It had taken me a couple of days to work up the courage to do it once I’d found his number. But seeing a photo of Marissa trying to grope Drake at an LA eatery was quite motivating. Drake had had a lot of explaining to do that night when he’d called. And one day very soon, I was going to make him pay for every single person who stopped me in the grocery store to offer their condolences about said photo. By pay, I meant back rubs and kisses.
“Who’s asking?” a gruff voice that sounded so very similar to Drake’s responded.
“You don’t know me, but my name is Charlotte Valentine.”
A deafening silence greeted me.
“Um, I’m your son’s—”
“I know who you are.”
“You do? How?”
He cleared his throat. “Why are you calling?” He was just as curt as Drake could be at times, and just as great at evading questions. Although, Drake was getting better.
