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After I save the document, I read the first few lines over, getting lost in them again.
* * *
My Everything ~
I want to say I fell in love at first sight. That would be the romantic version, but that’s not the truth. I fell in love with the woman who would become my sun, my beacon, my compass, my everything when I sat next to her at a funeral and saw the depths of sadness and true beauty for the first time.
* * *
I miss Charlie. Just three days into . . . whatever this is, and I miss her. She’s captivated me and makes me use words like “enchanted” while writing. The word “beguiled” has crossed my mind three times since I’ve known her. But dammit, men aren’t supposed to use those words, much less think them. I stand and pace, rubbing my temples to alleviate my anxiety. One glance at my watch and I know I have to see her. A plan is formed and I’m out the door within twenty minutes.
~ Charlie B. ~
“Holy sh—”
“What are you swearing about over there?” I call out to Rachel without looking up from my monitor.
“Turn around, Charlie,” she says. She giggles, and her laughter sounds like it’s directed more at me than humoring me.
I spin in my chair and gasp. “Charlie!”
“Charlie,” he says, greeting me. His voice is smooth and charming as always.
My heart races, my hand taps against my chest, and instead of greeting him like I should, all I can think about is what I look like right now. I would have worn a different outfit, put more makeup on, and spent more time styling my hair.
While he’s standing there grinning, I take a second or two to admire his great posture and his strong shoulders.
“I hope I’m not interrupting. I mean, I know I’m interrupting. Your work, for example—”
“It’s all right. I’m glad to see you. How are you?” I pretend to be all business-y, but it’s hard to act like that around him. I want to frolic and eat sweet treats in his presence, but I roll my eyes for using the word “frolic,” even if just in my own head.
“Other than a problem with speaking, I’m good. Great, in fact.”
I’m waiting for him to tell me why he’s here, but he takes a few moments to look around before his eyes land back on me. “I wanted to see if you were free for lunch?”
“Yes, she is,” Rachel shouts over the cubicle wall.
“Hi, Rachel,” he says. He chuckles quite loud, drawing some attention from nearby coworkers.
I stand and peek over the divider wall. “I thought we had plans?”
“Oh, I forgot I have tooooo, ummm . . . damn, I need a pedicure. I have to get that done.” She can’t look me in the eyes when she lies, so she stares at the monitor in front of her. “You should go to lunch with Charlie.” And just like that, I’ve been brushed off.
I turn back around to face him. I love Rachel for freeing our date, but I also hate her for being so obvious. I try to hold back my giddiness over seeing Charlie for the third day in a row by hiding my face and ridiculously big smile as I reach down and grab my purse. “It looks as if I’m suddenly available if you want me.”
His mouth quirks up in a devilish smirk. “Yeah, I guess, you’ll do,” he teases.
We walk to the elevators in quiet confidence, but I see Mr. Smith standing by the front desk. “How are you today, Ms. Barrow?”
“I’m well. Thank you, sir.” Wanting to escape but not wanting to be rude, I introduce Charlie. “Mr. Smith, this is my friend, Charlie Adams.”
“Charlie Adams.” He interrupts the introduction to ponder aloud, “You look familiar.”
They shake hands as Charlie replies, “We met at a benefit last year, sir. My aunt Grace was in charge of fundraising for the School District #8 art department. The public schools there lost most of their funding, so she organized the ball.”
“And what was the outcome?” Mr. Smith asks.
“Over four hundred thousand was raised. It compensated for more than the deficit, and eight scholarships were set up.”
“That’s good news. I bet your aunt was quite pleased.”
“Yes, sir, she was. She recently passed away, but she left this world knowing the arts wouldn’t be lost on the next generation.”
“I should hope not or we’ll be out of business, too,” he jokes, but becomes more serious. “I’m sorry for your loss. She was a very nice woman.”
“Thank you.”
Charlie and I smile. I say, “We’re going to lunch.”
“Well, I’ll let you get to that. Nice seeing you again, Mr. Adams, and I’ll see you at the meeting later this afternoon, Ms. Barrow.”
The elevator doors open, and I feel the light touch of Charlie’s hand on my back, guiding me in front of him. He drops it as soon as we enter the elevator, and I can’t stop the disappointment from the loss.
