Revel (Second Chance Romance #1) (8 page)

Charlotte looked down at her cell. She thought about calling Vanessa to ask her what she should do, but she knew even if Vanessa told her to talk to him, she wouldn’t. She couldn’t.

I keep saying that
, she thought.
Fuck. I’m supposed to be relaxing. Now I feel nauseated.

She stood up and walked over to the kitchen. The wine was still on the counter and she took a long swig from the bottle. She peeked through the blinds over the kitchen sink. He was sitting on the beach now, on her towel. Was he waiting for her? Did he really think she was coming back out there?

She looked around. Why hadn’t she gone to the store before showing up here? It meant she’d eventually have to leave the house today, unless she planned on not eating. Which didn’t matter at the moment, since she wasn’t the least bit hungry.

“I’ll just order food,” she said out loud, pacing the floor. “Then I don’t have to leave the house. And he’ll eventually have to go away. If he’s staying at his dad’s, then it’s a good 30 minutes from here.”

She took a couple of deep breaths. Her heart was still pounding.

********

Declan had been sitting for a while. He was beginning to feel pretty warm and in dire need of some water. He glanced back over at Charlotte’s cottage. She hadn’t come back out, no one had. Was she in there talking to her husband? Was he about to get his ass kicked?

He sighed and stood up.

Might as well go in
, he thought.
Hopefully the liquor cabinet is stocked. I’m going to need it.

As he walked toward his mansion, he couldn’t help but wonder what he should do next. Was she only there this week? For the summer? Did she live there? He’d looked her up before, out of curiosity. She’d been an OB in Nashville, doing well for herself. Not married then, but everything could be different now. She’d seemed happy, which made him happy.

It had to be just for a vacation. She had her own practice, and after what happened between them, he knew she’d never want to come back here. Charleston was the death of them, the death of her mother. The death of his…

No. He couldn’t think about that. There wasn’t enough bourbon in the world for him to handle that kind of trip down memory lane.

They’d become inseparable after that night. When Charlotte wasn’t working, she was with Declan. And when Charlotte was working, Declan was in the carriage house, waiting for her to come home.

“What if,” he said one day, “You became my assistant and quit the Dixie Garden? I could pay you to ‘assist’ me with things.”

Charlotte rolled her eyes, “First of all, what do you need an assistant for? Second of all, that sounds a little too close to prostitution for my liking. And third? I like working. I like making my own money and not depending on anyone else.”

Declan wrapped his arm around her as they sat on the loveseat in her small living room, “My independent lady. I get it. I just miss you when you’re gone. I sound pretty clingy, huh?”

She laughed and kissed him, “If it were anyone else, yes. But I miss you, too. I think about you my whole shift.”

“Yeah?” he said. “I think about you your whole shift, too.”

They kissed, long and deep, like they couldn’t get close enough to the other.

He pulled away first, “As much as I want to keep going… and going. And going… I have to ask you something.”

“Sure,” Charlotte said, suddenly anxious. “What’s up?”

“Well,” he said slowly. “My parents have been bugging me about meeting you. I mean, they don’t know we’re together, but they’re curious about the girl that lives in the carriage house. And they’re not stupid, I’m sure they can figure out you’re not just some random College of Charleston chick shacking up for cheap rent. I think they sense something else is happening.”

“We’re together?” she teased. “Like, officially?”

Declan looked up at her, his eyes wide with surprise, “I mean… I assumed we were. Are. Right?”

She wrapped her slender arms around his neck, pulling him in for a long kiss, “Yes. Of course.”

When she finally pulled away, he continued, “Wow. That was good. Okay, so yeah. My parents want to meet you, and they’ve invited you to dinner tomorrow night. It will be here; Antonia is going to make a Lowcountry boil so it’s nothing fancy. Very casual. They just want to make sure you’re not a psychopath. But…” He smiled, taking her hand. “I think I want to also tell them you’re my girlfriend.”

Charlotte shifted nervously next to him, “I mean, won’t they think it’s kind of strange that your girlfriend now technically lives with you?”

“You’re in separate quarters,” he pointed out. “Is it too soon to tell them?”

Charlotte shook her head, “No. Definitely not. But I guess I should maybe think of living somewhere else. So it’s not too weird.”

Declan nodded, “I mean, I don’t care. But usually we only rent out the carriage house for the summer anyway. Which I should have probably mentioned. But don’t worry! I’ll help you find a place; I know everyone in this town. And if worse comes to worse, you stay with me for a bit.”

“At a frat house?” she asked. “No thanks!”

He laughed, “Okay, I get it. But no worries, I know I can find you a new place, with a much nicer roommate than Allyn Legare ever was.”

“I wish I could afford to live without a roommate,” Charlotte sighed, laying down on the couch, her head in Declan’s lap. “I can’t wait until the day I can truly be on my own.”

He ran his fingers through her hair, “Why so eager to be a loner?”

Charlotte looked up at him, “I don’t know. I guess I like the thought of being beholden to no one but myself. I want to revel in the freedom of living how I want and where I want. That’s what money is at the end of the day. Freedom. To make any choice you want.”

“Money isn’t always freedom,” he replied. “It can come with a lot of strings.”

“Well, not the kind of money I want,” she said. “Money that comes from my own hard work doesn’t come with strings attached to it. Which is why I can’t quit Dixie Garden. I’ve learned in the last few years that it’s always best to count on just yourself. Other people can let you down.”

Declan stood up, gently lifting Charlotte off of him as he did.

“Not everyone will let you down, Charlotte,” he said. “I never would.”

She smiled at him sympathetically, “You wouldn’t mean to. I don’t think you would ever purposefully hurt me. But there might come a time where you don’t have a choice. And if it happens, I always want to be prepared.”

Declan shook his head, angry now, “How can you say that? I’m telling you I wouldn’t. I love you, Charlotte.”

Silence. The sentence hung in the air, a sentence thick with meaning. She never would have expected him to say it.

“Declan…” she said. “I can’t…”

“It’s fine,” he said, coldly. “You don’t have to say it back.”

“I want to say it back,” she explained. “I’m just not- “

“I said its fine,” he replied. He looked at her with a sadness she’d never seen in his eyes. “I’ve never said that to anyone before. And maybe it’s fast. Maybe you don’t feel the same way. But it doesn’t change it. I do love you. And I would never let you down. I hope one day you’ll finally realize that.”

He walked over to the front door, “I’m going to take a shower and maybe sleep over at the main house tonight. If it’s okay.”

Charlotte was crestfallen, “If that’s what you want.”

“Just for tonight,” he walked back over to her and kissed her quickly on the lips. “But tomorrow night, we’ll make it fun. My parents aren’t so bad. They’ll like you. You’ll probably like them. But as long as you at least like me, I can live with that.” He smiled, something she was glad to see.

“Goodnight, Declan.”

“Goodnight, Charlotte.”

Charlotte watched from the window as Declan started walking across the sand toward the house next door.

She was relieved to see he wasn’t coming to her door. Or was she relieved? Part of her wanted to talk to him, to show him she was beyond what he did to her, beyond the heart break of losing him. She would tell him about her successful practice, that she had graduated from Vanderbilt at the top of her class, that she had been at the top of her class in med school as well.

She’d pretend to be confident. She’d stand tall with her shoulders back, her hair no longer a wild mop of curls and waves. She was sleek now, more chic than she was back in the days when they were together. She longed to be aloof with him, to show him she barely thought of him anymore.

It would be a lie, but it would feel good to tell it.

But no, it was better that he hadn’t come to her door. She wasn’t the best at pretending she felt a way that she didn’t. She had no poker face.

What would really happen if Declan came to her door- she’d feel nauseated. She’d cry. She’d scream at him for killing her heart, for making it so that she could never love again. Men had approached her over the years, good men, with good intentions. But she was constantly rebuffing, constantly (but gently) declining dates. She stopped even the most innocent flirtations in the guise of wanting to stay professional. But really it was just her staying guarded. She never wanted to go through a break up again. She’d rather just never love at all.

And anyway, it looked like he had a wife now. The older blonde that had left his house earlier. Or maybe she was a friend. Either way, it wasn’t her business.

Charlotte sighed and looked at the clock. It was afternoon. The stress of everything that had happened in her life recently was taking a toll. She was tired. It was time for a nap.

Maybe when she woke up she’d find out she’d only dreamt of him. Again.

********

Declan took a long shower. He most often had his best ideas in the shower and he hoped the incredible water pressure of his new home would help him decide what he should do about Charlotte. But it didn’t. He stood under the water until it turned cold and he still didn’t know what the hell to do.

“This is ridiculous,” he said out loud to himself. “I should just go over there and acknowledge her. See what her husband looks like. Try to break the ice and cut through the awkward.”

But she’d run away! Fled from him without shoes on her feet. He’d watched her perfect ass trudge through the sand so she could get away from him. So, clearly, just going over to her house and saying hello wasn’t an option.

Maybe he’d write her a letter. Put it on her door. It was passive-aggressive, which was completely not his style, but he couldn’t get the look on her face out of his mind.

Yet he couldn’t
not
contact her. Especially if they were neighbors.

He pulled on a pair of shorts and pulled out a notepad from his computer bag.

Charlotte
…

********

Charlotte woke up a couple hours later, her head heavy from only having had wine today, and her stomach rumbling from hunger.

I need to order some food
, she thought.
I’ll go to the store tomorrow
.

She padded into the kitchen. The sun was beginning to set. She could hear the waves lapping against the shore. She glanced outside to see who was on the beach. It was empty.

She walked over to the window in the dining room that faced Declan’s house. There was one light on downstairs, the rest of the massive house was dark.

In the kitchen, she went through drawers to see if there were any take out menus. A pizza place was the first one she found.

“Pizza it is,” she decided.

Thirty-five minutes later there was a knock on her door. She was sitting on the couch, her knees tucked under her while she absent-mindedly watched a reality show featuring squawking housewives.

She jumped when she heard the knock and then slowly walked to the front door.

She was relieved to see it was just a young man with floppy hair and a greasy cardboard pizza box in his arms.

“Hello,” he grumbled. “It’ll be fifteen oh seven.”

“Sure,” she said, handing him a twenty. “Keep the change.”

This elicited a broad smile from the young man, “Hey thanks! Oh, by the way, this envelope was stuck to your door. It fell off when I knocked, sorry.”

Charlotte’s stomach dropped. She took the pizza and the envelope, which said
Charlotte
on the front of it.

“Thanks,” she whispered. “Have a good night.”

“You too, ma’am!” he said, stumbling down the steps and back to his Honda Civic hatchback.

Charlotte closed the door behind her and walked slowly back to the kitchen. She placed the pizza on the counter, suddenly not so hungry.

She knew instinctively it was from him.

She tore open the envelope and pulled out a folded piece of yellow paper, the kind torn from a notepad. It shook in her hand as she read his slanted and still sloppy handwriting.

Charlotte…

You ran away before I could say anything, not that I would have known what to say. Seeing you here was one of the biggest shocks of my life, and clearly it was for you too. It’s been so long… I can’t pretend the thought of you hasn’t crossed my mind a time or two hundred. This wasn’t how I would have wanted to run into you. Is it possible we can run into one another again? Catch up a bit? I would love to talk to you, though I know I don’t deserve any sort of conversation with you. But I also didn’t want to just show up and upset you. So I will leave the ball in your court. I live here now… It’s a long story, but I’m here for now. I don’t know how long you’ll be here, but if it’s for a while, it’s probably best we talk so neither of us has to feel awkward. All I want is for you to be happy. I hope you are.

-Declan

Charlotte could barely read his signature by the end. Everything was a blur through the tears.