AllFreeNovel
Share Us
On the nights I can’t be with her, I drift off to sleep in my lonely studio apartment dreaming of her. Charlotte in the shower house, Charlotte in the grass late at night, Charlotte in that cramped twin bed in her room, my hand pressed against her mouth to muffle the sweet, sexy sounds she makes. Making love to Charlotte is like nothing I’ve ever experienced, because the absolute best moments are when she’s lying in my arms right afterwards. It’s then that I feel like maybe, just maybe, my life is going to turn out better than I ever dared to imagine.
I can’t get enough of her.
Charlotte wants me, I’m confident of that, but there are certain areas of our relationship where she still insists on applying the brakes. I don’t like it, but I understand her logic. She doesn’t want to change the way Ethan sees us together just yet, wants it to be something he sees happening gradually, wants it to be natural. So in front of him we’ll hug hello and goodbye, hold hands now and then, but nothing more. One day I’ll be able to wrap her in my arms and greet her with a kiss in the morning in front of our son, and he’ll be able to scramble up into the bed his parents share if he wakes up in the middle of the night scared. And even though some days it’s all I can do to keep from pulling her onto my lap or dragging her in close just to breathe in her scent, I know all good things come to those who wait. I can be a patient man when I have to be.
I see my life now, with more clarity than ever before.
She sags against me when she comes, and I hold her up, finishing a moment later. “You feel so good,” I tell her, but what I want to say is:You’re mine, you’ll always be mine.
* * *
Charlotte
“You expecting company?”
“No.” I turn to see Lawrence’s attention fixed out the front window.
“Maybe it’s a lady selling Avon or something.”
I chuckle. “Up here?”
“If she didn’t look so much like Faith Hill, I’d venture a guess she’s a car thief.”
He lets the curtain drop as he makes his way towards the front door.
“No, Lawrence, I’ve got this.”
I get to the door first, opening it to see Simon’s girlfriend—I mean ex—standing next my car, peering down to look in the back window. “Can I help you?”
She doesn’t even have the courtesy to act embarrassed or startled. “You must be the baby mama.”
Lawrence steps forward but I turn to him, gesture for him to go back into the house. “It’s all right, I can handle it.” He looks between us, taking a moment before going back inside. I notice he takes a seat in the rocking chair right by the front window. I don’t think I need protection from this woman, but it’s good to know Lawrence has my back all the same.
“So I guess you already know who I am.” When I don’t answer, she continues to make her way around my car, closer to me. “Cadillac XT5, huh? So you’re not some pauper from the backwoods like I thought you were.”
The fancy car is another reminder of Janelle. She continued to drive the same F-150 she’d been driving for the last decade, but after Ethan was born, she insisted on buying us a “city” car with heated seats, four-wheel drive and every conceivable safety feature. Not one year later, she traded it in for the this, the latest model, just a month before she died.
Shaking off the sting, I look over to this girl’s shiny little Audi coupe. “We buy American around here.”
“I certainly know Simon didn’t buy that car for you. He’s flat broke.”
“Why are you here?”
“I guess I just had to see you for myself.”
She looks me up and down, and while she’s trying to hang on to this air of superiority-act she’s got going on, I can see the cracks in her armor. Her hair and skin are flawless, for sure, and to put together a casual-chic outfit like that I’d need a personal shopper, but there are bags under her eyes and her nails are bitten down to the quick.
She crosses her arms over her chest. “Simon is letting you ruin his life, ruin everything he’s worked for. I get that he wants to take care of his son, but do you realize what he’s giving up?” She doesn’t wait for me to answer, not that I have any words to offer this slightly hysterical looking person. “Transferring means he loses his scholarship. Transferring means he loses an all but guaranteed job offer from one of the top law firms in Chicago. Transferring means—”
“It means he’s walking away from you.”
“This isn’t about me, it’s about Simon.”
I roll my eyes. I was feeling sorry for this chick until about a second ago. “This?” I gesture between the two of us. “This is all about you.”
She smirks. “You think you’ve won, don’t you? How do you think Simon’s going to feel when he has to sign for the, what, the forty-thousand or so he’s going to need to get through this year alone? And another forty next year?”
I can’t help but wince at that, even though she’s exaggerating. I’ve researched that angle too. It will be thirty-two thousand in tuition for this year, and next year he’ll be able to qualify for in-state tuition, which is closer to twenty-two. But she knows she’s hit a nerve. If you know Simon, you know finances are always front and center in his mind. He’s proud, doesn’t like to owe anyone.
