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“Absolutely. Listening in on private stuff is like someone reading my text messages or diary. It’d feel so gross. Isn’t that illegal anyway? Like recording someone without their knowledge?”
Mack shifted in her seat and tucked her hands under the table. “No, not illegal.” She depleted the rest of her water and indicated to the waiter she needed more.
“It should be. Sorry! I guess you do that. I don’t mean to insult your craft or research.”
“No, totally understand.” Mack gave her a weak smile.
Oh no.Why did she do that? If they were on a reality show right now, the audience would groan at the level of awkwardness Charlie just heaved on the table. A knot formed in Charlie’s stomach. Mack had listened to her the entire night while she rattled off depressing childhood stories, and now Charlie talked crap about Mack’s work. Amateur move.
“How long does it take to write a book?” Charlie kept her voice bubbly and light to try and defuse the obvious tension.
Mack shrugged. “Depends. Some people take years. Viviane represents one author who completes four a year. I can’t even understand that level of sorcery.”
A slow fire burned in Charlie. Besides the work-insult faux pas, tonight was one of the best she had in years. Ease flowed between them, and energy simmered in her body. She didn’t want to change the dynamic, and a first date was probably not the best to talk logistics, but her heart ballooned with each passing second, and she had to address her concerns.
Charlie spun her trio of stacked rings. “When are you going back to New York?”
“I don’t know.” Mack wiped her mouth with a napkin and took a deep breath. “I first came here to escape the pressure of my publishing deadline. But I miss my apartment and space and the city.”
Of course, Mack had an entire life outside this little bubble. She had an apartment, a bed, and maybe a cat that the neighbor watched. Charlie’s face fell. No way this could be permanent.
“But I guess I’m here indefinitely.” Mack reached forward and brushed the top of Charlie’s fingers. “And right now, I don’t want to leave.”
Damn.Charlie liked this woman. A lot. The conversation. Those shoulders. Her accent and smile and quiet way about her. The feeling she got when they talked, like she was the most fascinating human in the world.
Mack paid the bill amongst Charlie’s protests. Outside, the mist had stopped, and the moon peeked out behind the clouds, joining the glowing streetlights. Charlie linked arms with Mack, and Mack pulled her closer.
“Want to come back to my place for hot chocolate?” Charlie’s raw, shaky voice gave away every internal sensation. “Or should I bring you back to your parents?”
“Hot chocolate with you or Netflix with my parents?” Mack put her mouth against Charlie’s ear. “Easiest decision of my life.”
TWENTY-ONE
CHARLIE’S DRINK SPECIAL: RAINBOW LOVE LATTE WITH EXTRA SPRINKLES
The walk up the loft stairs was slow and deliberate, every footstep filled with anticipation. A soft breeze flowed through the night air, enough to dry Charlie’s damp, trembling palms. Her throat was both arid and wet. The nerves and anticipation collided, and her insides didn’t know how to respond. She couldn’t remember ever feeling this many conflicting emotions, even with Jess.
Was she sure about all of this? No. Absolutely not. But, at this moment, everything felt right, even if the speed scared her. She fell into a relationship so quickly with Jess. An instant connection, followed by a decade of sickening, heavy codependence. But she broke free from that addiction. Just because only a few weeks had passed with Mack, this was different.Right?
When Mack toed off her shoes and set them on the mat, Charlie moved to the kitchen. “Do you take whipped cream?”
“Only non-dairy.”
“Oh God, not you, too.” Charlie giggled and turned the stove on.
Mack strolled up behind her and laid a gentle hand on her waist, and Charlie’s knee bent. An automatic reaction, like Mack’s touch rendered her limbs useless. Mack released and tossed her wallet and phone on the counter. As soon as her phone hit the granite, it buzzed. Charlie glanced at the screen, and Mack clicked it off.
“Viviane.”
“I didn’t mean to look.” Flames shot to Charlie’s face, and she grabbed the milk from the fridge to avoid Mack’s gaze. “God, that’s invasive. I don’t even know why I did.”
“The phone was just sitting there. I would’ve looked, too.”
Charlie was sure Mack could hear her loud heartbeat. What was Mack thinking? She was quiet, in her cool and unfazed way, but she didn’t look nervous. She pulled a stool next to the counter and rested her palm in her chin as she watched Charlie at the stove.
The milk bubbled, cocoa stirred, and they both took a slow sip. Charlie wrapped her hands around the mug, hoping to soothe the trembles, and pointed to the couch. She turned off all overhead lights on the way to the living room and flipped on the electric fireplace and lamp instead.
“Is it just me, or did that seem like a truth serum dinner?” Charlie fanned her dress out and crossed her legs underneath her butt. She said a lot tonight. Too much. Her insides were raw.
