Charlie

“Explain this to me one more time,” I said, rubbing my eyes.

My divorce lawyer and buddy from college, Pete, watched me from the other side of his desk. “From the top?”

“From the beginning.”

He flipped through his notes and drew in a deep breath. “We filed your divorce papers—fault divorce under adultery claims—in June after she refused to answer your attempts to reach her. Two weeks later, we served her the papers at her workplace along with your settlement agreement, stating you would back-pay her for moneys paid into your home and agree to joint custody with you as the primary guardian. You were granted full temporary custody of the kids on”—he flipped the page—“August 12, and Mary didn’t answer the divorce papers. We’re still a few weeks from being able to file for a default ruling, but there’s very little she could do to change things. She’s relinquished her rights by not participating in the divorce or the hearing for temporary custody. I don’t know many judges who would believe her if she came back around at this point.”

“Do you think she knows? That we haven’t filed for the default yet?”

Pete sat back in his chair. “It’s hard to say. We haven’t had any contact from her side at all. I don’t even know if she has a lawyer. There’s a possibility that she could file a petition to set the default ruling aside and have a judge her case, but the longer she goes on, the less likely it’ll be that she can have it dismissed and actually start participating.”

I sighed, the breath drawn from somewhere deep in my lungs. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. She wants to see the kids, and I don’t know how to tell them they can’t see their mother. Don’t get me wrong; I don’t trust her, and I sure as hell think she should have come around a long time ago. But, if she’s coming around now, I probably haven’t seen the last of her. And if she’s going to push for this, I don’t know if I can say no with any just cause. I don’t want to bar her from them out of spite, but I don’t want to put them at risk either. I don’t want her to weaponize them, but not allowing them to see their mother … it’s cruel.”

“Charlie, listen, you know how this works. If you set up a precedence, if you make any kind of agreement with her on custody now while everything is in flux, it could ruin everything. You can’t give her an inch or she’ll take it all. It’s Mary we’re talking about here.”

“So keep her from them until the divorce is final?”

He nodded. “It’s the only way you can guarantee control. If you want to let her see them after that, it’s fair game.”

“This is so fucked up,” I said half to myself.

“I know. Welcome to divorce law.”

“Thanks for your help with this. I know as much about divorce law as I do about cardio surgery.” I tried to laugh, but it came out as a half-assed chuckle. “I don’t know how you do it. M&A bleeds me dry on the regular, but it’s nothing like trying to sort through people’s failed marriages.”

“Well, it helps when I work for the good guys. It’s the times when I work for the assholes that I really have a crisis of conscience.”

We both laughed at that, and I left Pete’s office, so disgusted and downtrodden and lost in my thoughts that I wandered around Midtown a while, not wanting to go back to work.

Work was the last place I’d wanted to be for days. Weeks. Maybe ever.

I tried to fortify my will by reminding myself of the day I had gone in for the temporary custody hearing. The thought of seeing her for the first time since she’d left had left me sleepless for days, and the anxiety was so real, so pure, so horrible that I wondered if I’d break down in the middle of the courtroom. She was going to come, I’d been certain. She was going to fight, I’d known.

But she hadn’t shown up at all, and that was somehow so much worse.

Now she wanted to see the kids after all this time, and I couldn’t let her. I didn’t even know if she truly wanted them or if she was just trying to manipulate me, but the image of their small faces when I’d barred them from their mother burned into my mind. It was no easier than the thought that she would hurt them, that she wasn’t stable enough to be what they needed.

It just felt wrong, everything about it. Wrong and slimy and sinister.

And there was nothing I could do about it but wait it out.

Hannah

Lysanne’s mouth hung open like a fish as Charlotte’s swing lost momentum.

I’d stopped talking for at least a full minute. “Say something.”

She blinked, her gaping mouth turning into a smile. “I didn’t think you actually had the nerve to kiss him, never mind … all that.”

I laughed and kept Maven’s swing going evenly. “Honestly? That’s all you have to say?”

“Of course not. It’s like you don’t know me at all.” She shook her head and gave Charlotte’s swing a heave. “I’m excited and nervous for you and Charlie. It’s tricky, yeah?”

“It’s only been a few days, so not yet. But I’m sure it will be. Though seeing his ex was probably a glimpse into the tricky.”

“Sticky and messy. I can’t believe she showed up like that. You said she hasn’t seen them in months?”

“Since she left them all.”

“Is she pretty?” Lysanne asked.

I nodded. “She’s beautiful, dark hair and eyes, very … I don’t know the word. Cosmopolitan. Classy. A little scary. But what was strange was that I could see them together, but as if it were a different version of him, one I don’t know.”

“Like he had an evil twin?” she asked excitedly.

“Yes, a little,” I said on a laugh. “They made sense, but they didn’t. I don’t know how to explain it other than that it was odd.” My smile faded. “She’s not fond of me; she made that quite clear. Not that I thought we might be friends. In fact, I hadn’t even really considered her. She’d been gone for a long time … so she was always … fictional, just a piece of his past without a face. But she has a face now, a face and a presence, and I can already feel the weight of it between Charlie and me.”

“I can see that. It’s real now.”

“He was with her all those years. These are his children with her. She is their mother. They’re all facts I knew perfectly well, but I don’t think I really understood them until yesterday.”

Lysanne said nothing, her brows together as she pushed Charlotte for a few seconds.

“I care for Charlie very much, and I’ve already accepted the truth of his past. It just shook me up to see her, to be confronted with her in that way.”

“And that’s understandable. How did Charlie take it?”

“Not well. He was far more upset than me, and the kids were too. Charlie has to shoulder so much.” I shook my head. “It’s why I didn’t make a fuss when I found out he’d seen her at the hospital and didn’t tell me.”

Lysanne’s eyes widened. “She was there?”

I nodded. “I didn’t see her; she didn’t want to see Maven.”

“That’s awful.”

“I want to believe she has her reasons, but it’s not easy to make excuses for her when I’ve spent so much time with the children, when I can see just how wonderful they are and how much they need her.”

“Maybe her reason is just that she’s a selfish bitch,” Lysanne said matter-of-factly.

I laughed. “Wouldn’t that be the easy answer? But nothing’s that simple. Our hearts and minds are more complicated than that, with layers on layers of reasoning and feelings and motivation. There’s always another side. There’s always a reason, even if we can’t agree on whether or not it’s a valid reason.”

“Well, I stand by my theory that she’s just a terrible person—which, in my expert opinion, is not a valid reason.”

I laughed again, and she smiled.

“I love you,” I said, shaking my head.

“I love you too. What do you think will happen with Charlie? Long-term? I mean, you live there for the foreseeable future. What if things go bad? What if his ex comes around more? What if he does something like …” Worry touched her eyes, her brow, her voice. “What if he sleeps with her? What if he—”

I stopped her. “Lysanne.” Discomfort snaked through me.

She clapped her mouth shut.

“We could worry about what-ifs all day and forever, and nothing good would come of it. I trust Charlie to tell me the truth, to be honest and open with me. It’s all I really ask of him, all I require, and I believe he’ll give that to me. In the end, if things don’t work out, I’ll go home. I don’t want to take another job here, not after all I’ve been through.”

“So you’ll run away. It’s the Hannah special.”

I gave her a flat look.

“What? I’m only saying that this is how you like to problem-solve, that’s all.”

“I just don’t want to trouble myself with worrying about things I can’t control.”

“I suppose that’s fair,” she conceded. “I’m proud of you for taking charge with Charlie though.”

I sighed. “I was tired of waiting and not knowing and … being uncertain. And, now … I feel like I belong in a way. I haven’t felt that in a long time.”

She smiled. “I know. And I’m happy for you. What are you two doing tonight?”

“Oh, I don’t know. He works so late, so much.” The words were sadder than I meant to let on. “He took the whole weekend off, so I might not see him tonight. But that’s probably good. We’ve been together for days, and a little time apart will do us good.”

“You sound so pleased about it,” she teased.

I laughed, but her face went pale as she looked past me.

“Is that … oh my God, Hannah, look.”

Quinton rounded the gate into the park, hands in his pockets, smile on his face, eyes on mine.

A surge of anxiety rushed through me, stopping my heart before it kick-started again, banging painfully against my ribs.

“Hannah,” he called as he approached. “How about that? I was just on my way back from a late lunch with a coworker and thought I saw you.”

It sounded rehearsed, pretend, like a lie.

“Hello,” was all I could offer.

“Imagine that,” he said, coming to a stop next to me. “Funny we keep running into each other.”

“Yeah, funny,” Lysanne said as she watched on, her jaw tight, still pushing Charlotte in the swing.

He briefly turned his gaze on her, hard and sharp, before looking back to me. “Can I speak to you for a second? Alone?”

Lysanne’s eyes told me not to. Quinton’s said he wouldn’t relent. We were in public during the day. If ever there were a safe time, it was probably this. So, I nodded.

“Will you watch the children for me?” I asked Lysanne.

“Yes, of course,” she answered, her words rigid.

And then I followed him to the hedges that lined the park.

He turned, smiling serpentine. “I want to believe it’s fate that we’ve seen each other twice now.”

I smiled politely. “Is there something you needed?”

Something flashed behind his eyes, something hot and forbidding. “Just for you to have coffee with me. I wanted to … explain. I mean, the least I can do is buy you a cup of coffee and offer you some understanding.”

My smile faded. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

His faded too. “Hannah, really, I only want to talk, I promise.”

“There’s nothing to discuss,” I said with a sharpness I hadn’t intended.

It set his shoulders and straightened his back, his chin rising just a touch. “I disagree. I think there’s much to discuss. But I understand. Promise me you’ll call if you change your mind.”

I took a step away, my eyes narrowed and pulse rushing in my ears. “Goodbye, Quinton.” I turned to walk over to Lysanne.

“See you around, Hannah,” he said to my back.

I could feel the place where his eyes watched me. But by the time I was at Lysanne’s side and summoned the courage to look, he was gone.

The weight of the moment left me in a breath that set my hands trembling as I lifted Maven out of the swing and held her close.

“What in God’s name did he want?” Lysanne spat, picking up Charlotte as well.

We made our way to the sandbox—I had to sit down before I had no choice in the matter. “To take me to coffee.”

“He … he what?” she sputtered. “What possible reason could he have for asking?”

“I don’t know,” I answered honestly, miserably. “Lysanne, I think I should tell Charlie.”

Her mouth popped open. “You absolutely should not tell Charlie.”

My brows knit together. “Why not?”

“Because he’ll think you do this with all your bosses.”

“Oh God,” I breathed. “Surely he would believe me. Surely he trusts me.”

“Hannah, his wife cheated on him. With his best friend. I’m sure he does trust you, but are you certain he’ll understand?”

“I … I want to believe he will.”

Lysanne’s face was tight. She took a noisy breath through her nose and let it out. “Do you think Quinton will come around again?”

I considered it. “I didn’t think I would see him at all, never mind twice. After what just happened, I think … I think maybe since I said no with some finality that it might be the end, but how can I be sure?”

“You can’t, not with him.” She watched me for a beat. “If it’s not the end, if you see him again, then tell Charlie. There’s no reason to upset the applecart for nothing, if it is nothing.”

The idea relieved me—to avoid explaining something that I didn’t want to speak of, didn’t want to think of, something that had humiliated and scared me.

And so I said, “All right,” hoping against hope that I was doing the right thing.

The rest of the afternoon was spent in the lighthearted, laughing company of Lysanne, and I found myself more thankful for her than ever. By the time we parted ways, I had all but forgotten about Quinton and the exchange and what Charlie might think of it.

I spent the evening with the children and dinner and baths and stories and bed. We were mostly alone—Katie had left before dinner to go home to her husband—and once the kids were asleep, the house was quiet. Big and empty.

Without any distractions, my thoughts wandered from Quinton—wondering over his intentions, over the truth of our coincidental meetings, over our past—to my future with Charlie.

And when I thought about Charlie, my thoughts led me to Mary, my worry keeping me from considering the good or the happy, only my fears and anxieties. I imagined her in this house, walking the stairs I found myself on, eating in the kitchen I walked into, drinking from the wine glass I sipped out of, sleeping in Charlie’s bed upstairs. No, not Charlie’s bed … their bed.

I’d never even been in his room; we were always in mine, every night. It was unspoken; neither of us wanted to share the bed upstairs and were perfectly content to stay in a space that was our own, untouched by memories of her.

I realized then, as I sat in Charlie’s kitchen in my nightgown, that I’d only thought of his house as my home ever since I walked through the door. It had been so easy to never think of the house and the people in it in terms of the past, only in the present, as if it were all as new to them as it was to me. It had felt like mine, but it wasn’t, and it never had been.

It was very likely that it never would be.

My stomach heaved at the thought—not at the possibility of not having it all for my own, but at the understanding that I’d been wishing for something without my consent or knowledge. I’d fallen into a dream in a way, and Mary’s appearance had been a rude awakening.

I took a very deep breath and moved to the cupboard in search of flour and sugar and to the refrigerator for butter and milk and eggs, and I made my hands busy, made my mind think about something other than the truth of my circumstance, the truth of my heart.

Katie had kept the pantry stocked with supplies for me, always asking what I needed or wanted, sometimes anticipating what I was low on without my having to ask, and I was particularly grateful that night. Before long, I had puff dough in the refrigerator, cakes in the oven, and a dish of apples and raisins and cinnamon in front of me.

It was automatic and comforting, quieting my busy mind and uncertain heart with every stir, with the rolling pin in my floured hands, with the brushing of melted butter and sprinkling of sugar. It was a satisfying act of love and devotion, a remembrance of my childhood and family and home, a way to give a little piece of myself to someone else. And I lost myself in the motions.

I was icing the cakes when I heard Charlie’s key in the door, and I couldn’t stop my smile or the warmth in my chest or my feet from carrying me into the entryway with surprise and joy, my worries and fears gone the second I heard that sound that meant he was home.

His face mirrored my heart.

We almost rushed each other, and in a breath, I was in his arms, the chill of the night clinging to his coat and lips and hands. But I kissed it away as best I could.

Charlie leaned back to look over my face. “Hello to you, too.”

I chuckled and kissed him again, swiftly and sweetly. “You’re home early.”

He shrugged. “Yeah, I hit my limit. I thought having a few days off might freshen me up for work, but I’m afraid it did the opposite. It’s literally the last place I want to be.” He held me closer. “Wanna know the first?”

I tilted my head and pretended to think. “Hmm, the subway?”

He shook his head. “Guess again.”

“The bath?”

That one he considered. “If you’re in it, then one hundred percent yes.” He kissed me again.

I breathed him in, feeling like I hadn’t seen him in days, not just a few hours, and he seemed to do the same, his hands and lips telling me he’d missed me, that he wanted to be there just as much as I wanted him there.

The kiss ended with a sigh.

Charlie ran the strap of my apron through his fingers. “What are you baking?”

“I’m icing oranjekoek, and I have appelflappen in the oven.”

“I have no idea what you just said, but it smells amazing.”

I laughed. “Orange cake, apple … how do you say …” I made my hand open and shut like a book. “Flip. Ah … pocket?”

“Like a turnover?”

“Yes!”

He smacked his lips. “I want to eat all of that. Lead the way.”

I threaded my fingers into his and pulled him into the kitchen. “How was your day?”

“Awful. I don’t even want to talk about it. How was yours?”

“Good. I saw Lysanne today, which is always nice. I feel … full after spending time with her. Do you know what I mean?”

“I think I do.” He pressed a kiss into my hair when we came to a stop.

I smiled up at him as he looked over the cake, layered with almond paste and topped with pink glaze.

“So this is … let me guess … the orange cake?”

“Yes, that’s right. I don’t know why it’s called orange cake though; it’s pink.”

“Does it taste like oranges?”

“A bit. It has candied orange peels in it, but the word oranje is a color. The fruit is sinaasappel,” I added with a shrug.

“So … an orange is an apple?”

I laughed. “The first we ever saw of oranges, they came from China, so the word they made for it was Chinese apple.”

He shook his head and sat at the island. “That is so weird.”

“I know.” The timer went off, and I turned for the oven. “Zo gek als een deur.” I pulled out the appelflappen and set the pan on the stove. “As crazy as a door.”

Charlie laughed from deep in his belly. “Because everyone knows doors are irrational.”

“My oma has so many funny sayings. Like, when we were little, if a joke was made we didn’t understand but we laughed, she’d say, Jij bent lachend als een boer met kiespijn. You’re laughing like a farmer with a toothache.” I demonstrated, holding my jaw like my tooth hurt and laughing awkwardly.

That earned another laugh.

“The best was when we asked about her health, and she’d tell us she was kiplekker, which translates to chicken delicious. But it just means healthy.”

“Lekker everything.”

“Lekker everything is right.”

I put an appelflap on a small plate, and he took it with hungry eyes.

“My mouth is actually watering.”

I watched his tongue wet his lips as he picked up the pastry. When he took a bite, he moaned, eyes closing.

“God, how do you do that?” he asked around a bite.

I laughed, pleased by his pleasure. “Years of practice, three or four generations of recipes, and a lot of butter.”

He ate with enthusiasm, and I picked one up to join him.

“Should I get used to you being home this early?” I asked before taking a bite.

Charlie shrugged. “You shouldn’t, but I might be past the point where I care about getting in trouble for ditching. For a minute at least. I’m still riding out Maven’s hospital visit. How awful is that? I just think I’ve hit some sort of limit, some kind of wall. I don’t know how to go in there and pretend anymore.”

My heart squeezed as it sank. “I’m a distraction.”

His brows drew together. “No, you’re saving me.”

I shook my head, setting down the pastry, no longer hungry. “No, Charlie. I’m … I don’t want to be the reason you fail. I don’t want to hurt you.”

He was off his stool and walking toward me before I could move, his eyes dark and burning, his big hands on my face, tipping it up. “Hannah, you might be one of the best things to have ever happened to me.”

My sinking heart rose again, though it still ached.

“Do you understand that I’ve been stuck? I’ve been stuck in my life and in my head for longer than I think I even realized, but you’ve shown me how much more there is, how many things I’ve missed while my head’s been down. You opened a door I hadn’t realized was closed, and now that I’ve seen what’s on the other side, I can’t go back. I can’t pretend I don’t know. I knew I wanted a change, but I didn’t realize just how badly I wanted more from life until I caught a glimpse of what more is. My kids, my family, happiness. That’s what I want. So please, don’t say that. Don’t say you’re bad for me, not when you’ve shown me everything good.”

I didn’t know what to say, my throat tight and eyes searching his.

But I didn’t need to speak. Because when he kissed me, it banished every thought from my mind.

* * *

Charlie

I kissed Hannah and told her without words that I needed her. I held her face and spoke through my fingertips, telling her she had changed me just by existing. And as she kissed me back, I knew she understood.

All day, I’d been thinking of her. Every tick of the clock had been noted in my mind as I counted down the seconds until I’d see her again.

I’d been consumed. I had far less control over my heart than I had known.

I didn’t even want it back. I’d gladly relinquished it to her.

Hannah would never hurt me. She would never betray me. It was a truth, innate and instinctive, the knowledge that she only wanted my happiness and I only wanted hers. And I would never go back again. I would never be manipulated again, would never be used, now that I knew what more there could be.

The kiss went on, deeper and deeper. She leaned into me, breathing heavy and loud, hands roaming down my chest, around my waist, up my back and down again, never pausing. Mine weren’t still either, my fingers thirsty for her skin from earlobe to breastbone and to places I couldn’t reach, not with her clothes in my way.

So I rid her of them.

Her apron was first—the one thing I was loathe to remove, reminding myself to have her wear this once with nothing else. My fingers twisted around the tie at her waist and tugged to loosen it, and I pulled it over her head. She wore a nightgown the color of a storm cloud, thin and gauzy, the fabric hanging on the peaks of her tight nipples, the curve of her warm breast soft and supple in my palm. My free hand found her bare thigh, fingertips slipping under the hem and to the swell of her ass.

And her body bent to me, giving and giving and giving, never taking. Just letting me take, letting me touch, letting me slip my fingers into her panties to touch the hot center of her, to trace the slick line and the silky bud, to slip inside her warmth, a prelude, a promise of more, a promise I would fulfill the moment my cock was free.

She moaned into my mouth, the softest, sweetest of tremors of her breath and tongue and lips against mine, and I held her against me, pressed the confined length of me to her, moaning right back.

I stepped with her to the island, and once her weight was against it, she brought her leg up and spread it, opening up, letting me in, my thumb on her clit and my fingers deep inside her until her hips rocked and breath sped and I couldn’t take it anymore.

I let her go, breaking the kiss to push her panties down her legs, the two of us panting, her hands on my chest and pupils dilated. My hands were a blur as they unfastened my belt and pants, my lips finding hers; they couldn’t stay away, couldn’t leave her alone, couldn’t stop. And then the length of me was free, one hand gripping my base, the other pushing her nightgown up her long thighs, her legs spreading again and hips angling for me. She was on the tips of her toes, and I bent my knees, looking for the connection, feeling for the heat of her, sucking in a breath through my nose when I found it, hot and wet and waiting.

I flexed and filled her up.

Her ass was propped crudely on the counter, but she didn’t care, just wrapped her legs around my waist and whispered my name, begging me. But she didn’t have to beg. I’d give her anything, everything.

With a roll of my hips, I pulled out and slipped in again, her shaking hands fumbling with the buttons of my shirt, desperate to touch me. But I didn’t stop, didn’t stop moving, didn’t stop pumping, couldn’t have stopped, not with her hips immobilized, pinned like they were. She was at my mercy, and I would give her what she wanted, what she needed. I flexed again, grinding when I couldn’t get any deeper, giving her the pressure she sought. My hand wanted skin as much as hers, sliding under her nightgown and to her breast, to her nipple.

She gasped, breaking the kiss, and I leaned back to watch her, the vision burning in my mind—the arch of Hannah’s long body, her chin up and eyes closed, neck curved, nightgown hanging on my wrist as I touched her, the creamy white skin of her stomach, the place where our bodies met, the sight of the length of me disappearing into her.

It was too much to control, too strong to contain, my hips moving faster as her brows pinched and she whispered her pleasure. She tightened around me once. I thrust harder, jolting her. She tightened around me again. I moaned her name. And she burst around me, pulsing and flexing and drawing me into her until I came with a rush, my nerves firing, eyes slamming shut as I drove into her with such force, she cried out in the sweetest gasp of ecstasy I’d ever heard.

I leaned into her, wrapping my arms around her to bury my face in her neck, my breath ragged and body still pulsing inside her. Her arms wound around my neck, fingers in my hair, breath against my skin, sending goosebumps over me. And I breathed her in, the smell of comfort and sweetness, and I knew with absolute certainty that there was never anywhere in the world I’d been so happy than in her arms.

“I missed you,” I whispered into her hair.

She kissed my neck with smiling lips. “It was only a few hours.”

“I know, but I missed you anyway.”

“I missed you too,” she whispered back. “Take me to bed, Charlie.”

I leaned back and gazed into her sleepy, sated face. “What about the kitchen? All your hard work?”

“I don’t care. I don’t care about anything but you.”

All I could do was kiss her, kiss her with an aching heart and blissful joy, and do anything she asked of me.