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“Does it matter?”
“It might. Damn, Wes. You are the first person to say that you need to let someone tell you the whole story before you can judge them.”
“You don’t understand,” I told him and pushed his hand away.
He laughed, “I don’t understand what it’s like to love someone and be hurt? Yeah, okay.”
I spun around on him, “Yeah, maybe you do, but Cheryl dying is not the same, Brad. Charlotte is not the woman I thought she was. How can I trust her when I find this out?”
“How can you walk away from someone that you care about without getting a full explanation. Maybe it won’t work between you two, but you should at least listen to Charlotte. Hear her out, and then see if the explanation still sits wrong with you. Jesus man, I thought you had found the woman of your dreams. In fact, I was almost jealous of you. Charlotte seemed like an incredible woman, and I think that if you don’t give her the time to explain, you’re going to lose the best thing to happen to you in a long time.”
He began to step away, but turned back, “Wait, that wasn’t what I was coming here to ask you. Don’t you know someone who is an editor, what was her name? Jersey?”
“Yeah, Bruce Mitchell’s wife. Why?”
He shrugged, “Because I have some copy I need to be proofed and I was wondering if I could hire her to do it. Text me her phone number.”
“Yeah, I will.” I pulled my phone out as he walked away and pulled Bruce’s home number and pasted it into a text for my brother. As he glanced at his phone, he turned and grinned as he shook the phone in the air.
Maybe he was right, and I owed Charlotte a few minutes to explain. Would it make a difference? As I went to set up the tables, I sighed again and figured that it wouldn’t. Better to leave sleeping dogs alone.
