Charlie worked nights the following week, but he was off on Tuesday, which was my early night at the studio. I promised to make him dinner if he helped me decorate my Christmas tree.
“You can’t just call something a Christmas tree because it’s green,” he complained, grudgingly stringing lights on it. “This isn’t a tree. It’s plastic.”
“Hush,” I said. “It’s much less messy than a real tree. I don’t like all those needles everywhere. Besides, it’s pretty.”
Giving me a dubious look, he leaned closer to it and sniffed. “For fuck’s sake. What is this, a scratch and sniff tree?”
“It’s scented.” I put my face in the branches and inhaled. “Ahh, winter trees.”
Charlie’s brow furrowed. “That is not a tree smell. That is a Made in China smell.”
“Hey. Be nice or I won’t feed you.” In my oven was a chicken and artichoke lasagna, and my house smelled divine.
He wiped the annoyed expression off his face. “For homemade lasagna, I’ll be nice.”
“Thank you. Hey, do you have to work this Saturday night? Mia and Lucas want to have dinner.”
“That sounds fun.”
“Great. After that I thought maybe we could come back here—I have a present for you, and that will be the last night I can see you before Christmas.”
“Open presents next to this fake tree?”
I stuck my hands on my hips. “If it’s so abhorrent to you, what don’t we do it at your house? I still haven’t seen where you live.”
He shrugged, turning his attention back to stringing lights. “No, my house is a mess. You’d hate it.”
“I wouldn’t judge.”
He gave me an apologetic smile over one broad shoulder. “I’ll clean it soon and then have you over. Promise.”
While we ate, I wondered if he’d stay over again, but didn’t want to ask. If it happens, it happens, I thought. And if it doesn’t, that’s fine too. We don’t need to rush things. I wouldn’t say anything about it.
When we’d finished eating and loading the dishwasher, I dried my hands on a towel, folded it precisely and hung it over the edge of the sink. I turned around to find Charlie leaning back against the island and looking at me. Only the tiny light above the range was on, putting him almost entirely in shadow. My stomach jumped. Why was I so nervous?
I gripped the counter behind me. “So.”
“So.” He glanced over his shoulder at the island. “I was just thinking about that night…the one where the power went out.”
I swallowed. “Yeah. That was…intense.”
He nodded slowly. “And I was thinking about the night of your burglary. About those handcuffs in the bathroom and how shocked I was to see them.”
I slapped my hands over my face. “Oh, God.”
He laughed. “Don’t be shy about it. It made me think there was more to you than meets the eye. Not that there’s anything wrong with what meets the eye.” He came toward me, took my wrists and pushed them down. “But I was very glad to learn that the princess enjoys being locked in the tower sometimes.”
I met his eyes. “She does. She’s just never told anyone that before.”
He kissed me, lazily, sensuously, lighting a fuse deep inside me.
“Charlie,” I said against his lips.
“Yes.”
“There are other things I’m curious about.”
“Oh?” His mouth traveled across my cheek and down my throat. “Like what?”
I lifted my shoulders. “I don’t know. Dirty little things. Things I bet a big bad wolf like you could teach a good little girl like me. Things you could show me.” I whispered in his ear. “I’ll be a good student.”
He paused, and a low rumble sounded deep in his throat. “You’re tempting me, Red.”
“Good.”
His lips found mine. “Can I stay tonight?”
I smiled. “Did you bring your handcuffs?”
“I think I can find them.”
“Then I think I’ll be upstairs.” I moved for the kitchen door and locked it with a flourish. “See what a good girl I am now, locking the door before I go up and take a shower with my vibrator?” I strolled out of the kitchen with a smile on my face, peeling my sweatshirt from my body…
#
It was just like my fantasies. I was alone in the shower, candles glowing, when I saw the shadow on the curtain.
He cuffed me to the towel bar, threatened to eat me alive, and followed through.
He used the Naughty Rabbit on me in places that made me tremble and beg, murmuring all the ways he wanted to tear me apart.
He wore a condom even when I said it was OK, I was on the Pill, and fucked me senseless against the white tile wall, hot water streaming down our bodies, my hands fisted in his hair, his fingers gripping the backs of my thighs, our mouths close but not touching, our eyes locked.
It was a good thing I couldn’t speak.
God only knows what I’d have said.
#
The following morning he invited me to have lunch with him and his grandfather on Sunday. “Really?” My heart swelled happily. We were still in bed, Charlie on his back, me tucked against his side.
“Yes. I’d like you to meet him, and he wants to meet you.”
“You told him about me?” Picking my head up, I blinked at him, surprised.
“Yes. He said he wants to see the girl who got me to go to a ballet. I told him when he sees you, he’ll understand.”
Grinning, I hopped up and straddled him. “I’m excited.”
“I can tell. Remind me to invite you to lunch more often.”
“Stop it.” I slapped at his stomach, then pitched forward to lay on his chest, burying my face into his neck. “It’s not the lunch I’m excited about, silly.”
“What is it?”
I grinned happily. “I don’t know. Everything.”
He kissed the top of my head, wrapping his arms around me. “I know exactly what you mean.”
#
The next day, I went to the mall with Mia to do some Christmas shopping. “Are you getting a gift for Charlie?” she asked, searching for a parking spot in the structure.
“I already got him a bottle of Irish whiskey and some old-fashioned glasses, but I also want to pick up some towels for him.”
“Towels?”
“Yeah, he likes these fluffy white Turkish cotton ones at my house. I got them at Restoration Hardware, so I can grab some today.”
She eyed me sideways. “He likes the towels at your house? Does this mean he’s showering there?”
I opened the car door. “It might,” I said coyly.
“Erin Marie Upton! What’s the scoop?” She jumped out and slammed the door. “Did you guys have the talk? Or are you showering but not dating?”
I laughed when she grabbed my arm and shook me. “Yes, we talked. Yes, we’re dating. And showering.”
“Eek! And?”
“And it’s good,” I said as we walked toward the entrance to Macy’s. “He’s still a little hesitant and I’m still a little paranoid, but we’re doing OK. He’s introducing me to his grandfather on Sunday. I was thinking of asking him to Christmas Eve at my mom’s house, too.”
“How sweet!” She pulled open the heavy glass door and I took it from her.
“Hey, don’t open that. It’s heavy. You need to be careful.” I held it open so she could go through first, but she rolled her eyes.
“Please. Between my mother’s visit and Lucas fawning all over me every second, I’ve barely lifted a finger to brush my own teeth this week.”
“We worry about you. How are you feeling?” I walked beside her into the warm, noisy late-December bustle of the mall.
“Pretty good. This morning, anyway. So let’s get moving before I have to barf again.”
I made a face. “Yuck. Remind me not to have kids.”
She laughed. “I’ll do no such thing. You and Charlie would have adorable babies.”
“Mia!” I elbowed her. “Don’t even.”
But for the first time—ever—my fantasy that night didn’t involve a vibrator, handcuffs, or even an orgasm. Just a real tree, Charlie and me, and four little hands tearing into their presents, blue eyes shining. I told myself to be careful. I told myself to wait. I told myself not to count on anything.
But I fell asleep smiling.
#
My mother had been pestering me to come over all week. I’d been avoiding her because I had a feeling she wanted to grill me about Charlie. It’s not that I didn’t want to tell her about us, but I felt strangely protective of what we had. I knew she was hoping one of her kids would get married soon and give her some grandchildren. My brother was twenty-five and buried in his final year of law school at Michigan, so he was out. It was too much pressure for me. But on Friday afternoon, I finally gave in and went to her house for a quick cup of coffee before work.
“When are you done teaching for Christmas break?” she asked, pouring coffee into a mug that said Blessed is a Woman of Faith. She handed that one to me, and took another cup down from the cupboard.
“Tomorrow’s the last day of classes for two weeks.” At the counter I added a teaspoon of sugar and poured in some cream from the pitcher she’d set out.
“Good. You work too much. You need some time off. You know, to get out a little more.”
“Mmhmm.” Here it comes, I thought, taking a seat at the kitchen table. Three, two,—
“So tell me about Charlie Dwyer. That was interesting to see you two together.”
I gave her my decided-upon lines. “Not much to tell beyond what you already know. He was on patrol the night of my burglary. We got reacquainted.”
“So you’re not dating then? You looked pretty cozy at the wedding.”
“We’re sort of taking it slow.”
“I would too with a man that has a daughter.”
My heart stopped for a second. I must have heard that wrong. “A what?”
“A daughter. Have you met her yet?” she asked, as casually as if she was asking if I’d met his cat.
Clink clink clink went her sugar spoon in the cup. The dishwasher hummed. The tiny television in the corner chirped with morning talk show hosts. And a jackhammer pounded inside my head. I put two fingers to my pounding temple. “Where did you hear he has a daughter?”
She carried her cup to the table and sat across from me. “Well, I ran into Shirley Munson yesterday. You remember Shirley, she goes to St. Joan and had the two sons about your age, the ones who opened that car dealership on Gratiot? The one got caught cheating on his taxes and his wife, and Shirley was so embarrassed. She had just been bragging about what good husbands and fathers they were, too. About how their wives didn’t even have to work and that’s what makes a home work—when the wives are home with the kids. I think it was a dig at me because I’m divorced.”
“Mom. Go on.” My fingernails dug into my thighs. “How did you hear about a daughter?” My mouth could barely form the words. My brain could barely fathom them. A daughter?
“Well, anyway, she evidently kept in touch with Charlie’s mom, Jane. Either that or she made it her business to know the gossip clear down in Des Moines. But when she heard me mention his name, she said Charlie dropped out of college to marry some girl that he got pregnant and even though they got divorced, he moved up here to be closer to the daughter. So you haven’t met her yet?”
Bile rose in my throat. “Uh…no.”
Whatthefuck? Whatthefuck? Whatthefuck? Charlie had a daughter? An ex-wife? Why had he kept all this hidden from me? And what the hell was I supposed to say to my mother? If I told the truth, I’d look like the biggest dope on the planet. If I played like I knew everything, she’d ask me a lot of questions I couldn’t answer. Like what’s her name?
I felt sick. My stomach churned, a whirlpool of anger, bitterness, resentment, shame, fear. I looked down at my coffee, knowing I’d vomit if I even took one sip but uncertain how to get out of staying and drinking it. But I couldn’t sit still once second longer. “Mom, I’m sorry, I just remembered something I have to do before class.” I jumped up, carrying my cup to the sink and dumping it out.
“What? You just got here.”
“I know, but I have to mail a package right now or it won’t make it in time.” I scooped up my purse from the floor and raced for the door.
“In time for what, Christmas? A package for whom? Erin, what on earth?”
But I couldn’t talk. I couldn’t think. I couldn’t breathe.
Charlie had a child.
A daughter.