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But she gives me a look like she needs to hear it, so I drop my voice, just between us even though there’s nothing but the waves of the lake bumping into the boat.
“I’ve wanted you every day since I first saw you, Charlie. I don’t see that suddenly changing.”
“I’ve wanted you too. I’ve felt so guilty for so long—”
I cut her off with a gentle kiss. “No, guilt, baby. Now that it’s happening, I know we were destined. Meant to be.”
She flashes a relieved smile and checks her phone before sobering. “I need to deal with this, and I have a few people I need to say goodbye to.”
I tug her into me again. “Meet me after.”
“Twenty minutes,” she says. “At the big ass tree out front.”
I nod, and then she laughs, and it makes me smile so much I have to kiss her again.
“Big ass tree in twenty,” I mumble against her mouth. “Then, you.” Kiss. “Are.” Another but deeper. “Mine.”
Charlie huffs out a breath when I pull away, and I walk backward, not wanting to lose sight of her.
“I think I was always yours, Benji,” she says.
I grab my chest over my heart, completely gone for this woman. “But now you’re all mine.”
She gives me another smile and then her head drops to tap out a message. I never would have guessed I’d end the night with a broken phone and a broken heart.
CHAPTER 1
CHARLIE
It all started with a car crash. A broken leg. A call to the first name on the list of The Smile Operation alternates. And just like that, the life I thought I’d moved to Pittsburgh to begin a few months ago was upended. Now the life I’ll start is in Ecuador. On the opposite side of an invisible line separating the world in half.
Even though I’ve finished packing, all I can do is keep staring at my clothes in the closet, wondering what to do with all the cute winter coats, mittens, and scarves for the next two years while I’m in South America.
If I’m honest with myself, which my therapist insists I should be, the true issue of moving has nothing to do with whether I store my clothes or donate them. The problem lies in leaving my entire life behind to follow my boyfriend abroad while he follows his dreams.
“Are you sure no one will think I’m that kind of girl?” I ask when I feel him step behind me. I rest my head back on his shoulder, and his arms wrap around me in a calming hug.
“The only thing anyone will think of you is how amazing you are for being a part of this once in a lifetime opportunity. Not only for us, but for the children who will smile extra big after we’re done with them.”
Turning my head to see him, I look up into the steel-blue gaze I’ve memorized over the past year.
“Easy to say when you’re the one making them smile.”
I love Archer. The pure joy in his eyes when he shows me pictures of the children he’ll be helping smile with the procedures he’ll conduct is unrivaled.
The doubts invading my gut as rocks are from me realizing I have nothing in my life that could even begin to compare. Once upon a time, it would have been painting—owning a gallery with my prints on every wall. My heart on canvas surrounding me every single day. Not that a dream like that pays the bills for ninety-five percent of us dreamers.
It sounds silly to fight to stay at a job I only have because of my tits. As much as I’d love to think the private gallery owner who hired me as a curator has a passion for art, his eyes spend more time on my chest than any piece of work I show him.
But a part of me wants to ride this wave to see where it could take me. Maybe one day I’d make enough to find a little studio. A hole in the wall where I could lose myself until a tiny ding of the bell over the door drags me back to reality when someone enters my little slice of paradise.
“You’re just nervous for the change.” Archer releases me and pulls me around until I’m facing him. He tucks his fingers under my chin and lifts so I’m looking at him. “Just think about it. Two years with no nosey parents”—he gives me a wink, knowing I’ve been dodging their calls again—“no more dealing with the art prick—”
“Mr. McCade,” I remind him, but he already knows and answers, “Art prick.”
He rubs my shoulders as I loosen up and smile.
“No social media.”
