Let's Get Quizzical, page 23
I laugh. “I was surprised you’d been so enthusiastic. It’s very … caterpillar-like.”
“It made him happy, and I couldn’t see the harm in letting him have that. I’m an old woman, and it’s taken me a lot of years, but I’m finally learning.”
I frown. “I don’t understand.”
Gran shifts in her bed, and I help adjust her blankets. “Do you know what my greatest regret in life is?”
I do a quick mental scan of my life and my time with Gran. It’s seemed pretty good. “Being turned away by my grandfather?”
She shakes her head. “No. I didn’t have any control over that, and even if I did, I wouldn’t change it. Being with him brought me your mother, and you, and I wouldn’t change that for the world. But it does have to do with him. I regret not forgiving him.”
Gran, who has spent more than forty years cursing his name and devoted her life to making sure no one in her family ever acted like he did, wishes she’d forgiven him? “Why?”
“Think of all the time I wasted. I put so much energy into hating him that there was never any room to fall for anyone else. I didn’t realize how much time and energy I’d given up to hatred until I got sick. He reached out to your mother too, you know. She decided not to meet with him, and that’s her choice. She told me about it a few weeks ago, and I’ve been thinking about it ever since. I decided I’ve finally forgiven him now, but it feels like it’s too late.”
“It’s not too late. If you want to talk to him, you could.”
She chuckles, which turns into a cough. “No, sweetheart. When I say it’s too late, I don’t mean too late to see Kenny, though I don’t think I’ll do that either. We’ll see. What I mean is that I should have forgiven him a long time ago. I missed out on so much living because I was hung up on an old wrong. It’s too late to get that time back.
I try to apply what Gran is telling me to my situation. I thought I’d forgiven Eli, but I’m still clinging to the past deep down; otherwise, I’d be with him right now. I couldn’t stay, but I’m not sure I want to move on from him either. Gran knows me all too well.
“It isn’t for me to say if you belong with Eli. Maybe you do, maybe you don’t. But don’t waste your energy holding the past against him. Time is precious. From what you’re telling me about this article and his letter, he’s trying. Go to him or set him free.”
The more I think about him, the more I miss him. The more I miss him, the surer I am that he’s right for me. I just have to take that leap.
“And quit holding vigil over me like it’s my death bed. Go take a shower—you stink.” She winks.
Eli’s made his move, whether it was for me or not. Now it’s time for me to make mine.
“Thanks, Gran.”
“Off to woo your man?” she asks.
“Something like that.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
CHARLOTTE
I pull into Eli’s driveway, exit my car, and my fantasy arrival has already failed to account for a scenario in which Eli doesn’t see me arrive. No bother. Slightly less dramatic, but I’ll just have to knock on the door instead.
It really unravels when no one answers the door. Time for plan B. I have to either sit around for who knows how long and wait for him to return, or figure out where else to find him. Work is the most likely place. I pull out my phone, look up the gym, and head out.
On the way, new mental images develop in my mind. I’ll pretend to be one of his clients, and he’ll come over, ready to train someone, and then he’ll realize it’s me. His jaw will fall to the floor in surprise. “I love you too,” I’ll say, and he’ll sweep me in his arms and take me right there on the weights bench. Maybe not the last part. Fantasy-Charlotte got a little carried away. We’ll definitely hug and cry and agree to meet back at his place as soon as he’s off work, where we can talk things out and decide to move forward together.
I check that he isn’t in sight of the gym’s sign-in desk, then walk up to the employee there.
“I need to talk to Eli Collins, please. But if possible, could we pretend I’m one of his clients instead of telling him who I am?”
The teenage ponytailed employee looks at me quizzically.
“One, that sounds super sketchy,” she says.
That’s a fair assessment without further explanation.
“I’m here for my ‘you had me at hello’ moment.” I grin, confident. What woman wouldn’t be ready to help me out after that?
Except she clearly has no idea what I’m talking about.
“My grand gesture,” I clarify. “He grand-gestured me, and now I want to grand-gesture him, so if you could help me surprise him, that’d be great.”
Her nose crinkles and her brow furrows, as though I’ve handed her a page full of hieroglyphs to decipher and not spoken plain English.
“I’m living a second-chance romance with a thirteen-year time gap. We broke up, and he did something big, and then told me he loves me, and I need to tell him I love him back,” I deadpan, trying to hand her a form of Rosetta stone, having thoroughly lost all my momentum for plan B.
“Oh!” She lights up, but then her face falls again. “I wish I could help. He isn’t here.”
Could have led with that—I check her name tag—Stacy. I close my eyes and take a patience-regaining breath.
“Do you have any idea where he might be?” She shrugs, and a tall man in shorts and a muscle shirt and a name tag that reads “Dave” comes around the corner.
“Thanks, Stace, I’m back.” His eyes lock on me and widen in recognition. “You’re the girl from the show!”
“I am,” I begin, ready to go into my whole spiel again.
“He isn’t here, but we’ve got to get you to him! Holy shit, I can’t believe you came. This is just like a movie.”
I give Stacy a look. See? It’s a thing. Dave is in the know. “Do you have any idea where I might be able to find him?”
“The investigators asked him to come up to the police station for his interview.”
The police station. Are they going to charge him after all? Since he hadn’t gotten his money yet, and he’s the one who finally came forward, I thought they’d take away the prize money and leave it at that. I have to get to him. I won’t take the fall again for something I didn’t do, and I don’t think he’d want me to, but maybe I can help.
“Thank you,” I call over my shoulder.
“Sure. Go get your man. Good luck!”
* * *
Back in the car, I envision a scenario in which I race to the station and peel into the lot, park at an “it was an emergency” hurried angle, and burst through the doors, yelling, “I object!” Then I remember it’s a police station, and peeling into the lot would not be smart; and it’s an interview, not a trial, so the I object wouldn’t make a whole lot of sense and would probably win me some stares.
I really should have thought all this through better. I’m normally more organized than this.
In an entirely undramatic manner, I walk up to the counter.
“Hello. I’m looking for Eli Collins.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
ELI
My ass is numb from the metal of the folding chair. I guess that’s part of the confession strategy. Subtly make people as uncomfortable as possible so they’re anxious to talk and get out of there. I’ve been sitting in the small, stuffy room for way too long, and I’ve gone over everything that happened several times.
I’m beginning to wonder if they’re ever going to let me out of here. I lodged a formal report the day before the article ran, and I imagine the attention from the media likely caused them to expedite their investigation, which included a very long and uncomfortable interview with me.
The door opens, and one of the officers interviewing me pops his head in. “You have a visitor.”
“What?” I ask, but the door has already closed again. This doesn’t make any sense for two reasons. I’m not a prisoner, and I’m not sure why I’d be receiving visitors. Only my work knows I’m here. Somehow, I doubt there is a personal training emergency that requires my immediate attention.
When the door opens again, I must be hallucinating, because Charlie is standing here. She’s posed like Wonder Woman, there to save the day.
“Surprise?” she says. Or maybe asks. Her confidence withers as her shoulders droop, and she shifts her feet anxiously.
“Charlie?” I ask.
“Yes,” she says.
“Charlie!” I run forward, ready to lift her up and fold her in my arms and kiss her lips off, but I slide to a stop just short, suddenly fearing she’s here relevant to the case, and not me.
Before I can start toward her again, she erases any doubt and launches herself at me. I stumble backward but regain my balance when I land against the table in the middle of the room. I catch her and pull her in close.
She’s warm and smooth and smells vaguely of popcorn—perfectly Charlie. I squeeze her tight, afraid this might not be real, and if I let go, she’ll vanish.
“Surprise wasn’t what I was supposed to say,” she says against my chest.
I pull back, and she tilts her chin up, to meet my eyes.
I smile back at her. “What were you supposed to say?”
“I love you too,” she whispers, and my body lurches, after my heart does a quick shutdown and reboot, in shock and elation over hearing those words on her lips, directed at me, and not in a context where she’s saying goodbye. Whatever she sees on my face makes her small smile spread to a wide grin. “Can I have a do-over? I really wanted to get this moment right.” She pulls back and makes a move toward the door to redo her entry, but I give her arm a gentle tug, and she spins back into my arms.
Her eyes shimmer as she looks up at me.
“Please don’t go anywhere,” I say.
“Fine. I’ll have my do-over right here. I love you too, Eli.”
“One more time,” I whisper, because maybe the third time is the charm that will convince me it’s real. If I hear it once more, I’ll believe that I didn’t screw up my chance with her forever, and she still feels the same way that I feel about her.
She lifts her head up, pressing her lips to mine. I inhale a surprised breath around her, then lean into it, kissing her back. She lets out a little giggle, and then her hand slides up my chest, and I completely forget where we are, losing myself in the moment and her. My tongue tangles with hers, and my pulse quickens. She whimpers and presses her palm harder into my chest. All I see is stars. The kiss convinces me as much as the words would have, if not more.
Then, one or both of us pulls back, and I’m so dazed I’m not even sure who, but one of us realizes that an interview room at the police department is not the best place to get it on, and we need to stop before things go any further. Not that my dick is getting the message.
“I love you,” she repeats, “in case it wasn’t clear.”
I laugh. “I got the message that time.”
A knock sounds at the door before a detective pops his head in.
“I think they’re done for the day. You’re good to go,” he says.
I take Charlie’s hand in mine, and her smooth, thin fingers curled around mine is a slice of heaven, that, as much as I’d hoped, I never thought I’d get to have again. It still feels like we have a lot to work out between us, but she came back. We can talk about it and figure it out.
We get to the lot, and my face falls. Now that she’s here, I don’t want to leave her side for even a moment, but we’ve got separate cars.
“Well, that sucks,” she says, apparently realizing the same thing as me.
I squeeze her hand a little tighter. I know I’ll see her again in all of five minutes, but after being so afraid I’d lost her forever, it feels like I need to absorb enough of this to hold me over for that five-minute drive. A little flame of Charlie that can keep me whole until we get there.
“Meet me at my house?” I ask.
“See you there.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
CHARLOTTE
Eli lets us into the house, and we wind up side by side on the couch. I’m probably more on top of him than by his side, if we’re being specific.
Eli’s fingers dance up and down my back, gently rubbing it and teasing my spine. I’m tempted to swing a leg over him, skip all preamble and settle myself on his lap.
“We should talk first,” he says.
“Must we?” I ask, even though I know he’s right.
He just gives me a look.
I sigh. “Okay.”
“I fucked up,” he says.
“Yep,” I agree. “But you were in an impossible position, and you made it right. I forgive you. Just don’t do it again.”
“I won’t.”
“I was hard on you,” I say. “I see that now. My whole family has been living in the past, holding onto old grudges and coming down on anyone that even hinted at opening those wounds. I cemented it so hard in my brain, I didn’t know how to react any other way. Even though I said I did, I never really let go of what happened in high school. When I thought I saw the same thing happening again, I bolted.”
He nods, his brows drawn together worriedly. “That all makes sense, but what’s changed?”
“Us.” I shrug. “The circumstances weren’t as similar as I was making them out to be in my head. You didn’t blow me off; you tried to apologize and explain from the start. It took me some time, but I realized that you are different. I had a little help from Gran.”
“Oh?”
“I was holding her grudges for her, and as it turns out, failing to forgive is her biggest regret.” I lie on his shoulder, and he rests his chin on my head, clasping me in his arms. “I almost called you before she told me that. Gran got worse. I went to meet my grandfather, and I told her about it, and the next thing I knew she was in the hospital again. It felt like my fault. It still kind of does. I really needed someone to talk to, and the person my heart was aching to call was you.”
“Is she okay?” His eyes flick to mine, concerned, and my heart flutters.
“She’s going to be. She’s been at the hospital for a few days. She had to have surgery, and didn’t wake up until this morning, but she’s back to being Gran.”
“I’m glad she’s doing better, but I’m so sorry I wasn’t there for you,” he says. “I wish I could have held your hand through it.”
“I was being stubborn. In a way, it was like you were. I knew that if I needed you, you’d be there.”
He gently nudges my chin, and I turn and look at him. He presses a soft kiss to my lips. “I would have. How did it go with your grandfather?”
I shrug. “That one is a work in progress. I think I’ll see him again, but we’re taking it slowly, and I don’t think the rest of my family has an interest in getting to know him, which is fine with me. How have you been with everything that’s been going on?” The article may have only come out today, but if they had time to find and interview other sources, and he was able to get it to me ahead of time by snail mail, he must have been working on this since the day we left.
“Honestly, it hasn’t been great,” he admits, and I wince. It sounds like he could have used someone to talk to as well.
“I’m so sorry. Your dad?”
He looks away and down at the floor, no longer meeting my eyes. “I’m trying to figure out how to get him out of there. I’ve been trying to track down Lucky, the guy he got in trouble for being around, to get him to admit he was there against Dad’s wishes, but haven’t been able to yet. It’s just our word against Clint’s at this point. I’m hoping it won’t hold.”
My stomach lurches like I’m going to throw up. It’s my fault. I’m the one who made us lose. I was following the rules and being honest, trying to do what I thought was right, but it may have cost Eli his family.
“It’s my fault,” he says, and I can’t help but let out an exasperated laugh at the similarity in our thoughts. “He was doing so well, and now he’s back in there because of me.”
“Don’t beat yourself up over this. You tried. I’m the one who distracted you into forgetting the answer. We lost because of me.”
He smiles and shakes his head. “Maybe we should both stop taking the blame for things that we shouldn’t. Clint is the only one to blame here, and we were both just doing the best we could.”
“I’m beginning to realize there’s a lot more gray area in the world than I’d ever thought.”
“Agreed.”
“What do we do?” I ask.
His thumbs, which had taken to slowly running back and forth over my knuckles, grow still.
“What do you mean?” he says.
“What do we do to help him?” I ask.
“Charlie, this isn’t your responsibility; you don’t have to do anything.”
“When I said, ‘I love you,’ I meant it. We’re a team, and not just for a TV show. I want to help.”
“I forced you into taking the fall for me once. I’m not going to ask you to again,” he says. I appreciate so much that he wants to do this on his own and doesn’t jump right to involving me.
“I know. And thank you. But you aren’t asking. I’m offering. Tell me what you need.”
He kisses the top of my head, trailing his hands over my body. “I’ve talked to the reporters, the formal report is filed, and I’ve talked to the police about Dad’s situation. All there’s left to do now is hope for the best. But thank you. If anything does come up, I appreciate the offer. But for now …” He leaves that sentence unfinished and adjusts himself underneath me.
“For now?” I ask innocently, knowing full well where he’s going with this.
“I have been miserable, wondering if I was ever going to see you again. Now that I am, I want to see all of you and take my time memorizing every inch of you.”
