I think I know a place.

“GOOD MORNING, MR. NELSON.”

“Charlie, please. Mr. Nelson is my father.” I smile stiffly at a woman whose name I can’t remember. My mind swims as she takes me through her presentation and I struggle to pay attention. I catch so many errors, I can’t write them down fast enough. My first impulse is to take over the project and do it myself, but that isn’t my job anymore. My job is to manage my team and let them do the work. I grit my teeth as I try to give her pointers on what to improve tactfully. I was brutally honest yesterday, and that woman left my office in tears and called HR, so I’m working on toning down my kneejerk reactions.

It’s hard. I want to tear up her proposal, but I don’t.

I hate this job.

I hate my new apartment.

I hate New York City.

Mostly because Quinn isn’t here.

But then I remember, I hate Quinn, too.

Or rather, I hate what she did. How dare she think she knew what was best for me? Especially when what she thought was best for me was for her to leave me so I could find someone else to make babies with.

As if I’m in some rush to have kids.

Okay, yes, I did have thoughts of having kids with Quinn, and when I thought she was pregnant, I liked the idea, but that was before I knew she couldn’t have kids.

When I think of what she went through, having to bury her premature son, my stomach churns with sorrow. I can’t even imagine burying your child and learning you can’t have any more kids all at the same time.

And her fucking ex-husband cheated on her months later while she was depressed and grieving. I remember his offhanded comment about me not knowing the whole story. As if knowing everything that happened makes it okay for him to do what he did. What a fucking tool. I want to rip his dick off and pummel his face with it. How could he be so cold?

I touch my chest, trying to soothe the ache again, but it’s no use. I feel hollow, grumpy, and unhappy.

My phone beeps with an incoming text.

Dom: Hey, you around

Me: I’m here, what’s up?

Dom: Good news, you got an offer on your house.

Me: Is it a good one?

Dom: It’s solid, but the buyers are in a rush, they want to be in by the end of the week.

Me: I’m not due back home until next weekend, I won’t be able to pack up the rest of my stuff.

Dom: No worries, I can take care of it for you.

Me: You think I should close?

Dom: If you’re still serious about selling, this is a great offer. The bank can fax you the documents to sign by lunch.

Me: Okay, do it.

When I get the fax, I try to remember how much Quinn hurt me.

When I fax it back to the bank, I try to ignore the knots in my stomach. I can’t afford to pay rent for my new apartment plus the mortgage for my house. This is a smart decision.

“Hey man, how’s New York City treating you?” The familiar sound of Max’s voice makes my stomach ache with homesickness.

“Hey. It’s…okay.” I try to conceal how unhappy I am.

“Just okay?”

I sign. “I’m not going to lie, being a manager sucks balls.”

“That bad?”

“Yeah, I think my team is the dumbest team in the company. I just want to redo all the projects myself.”

“I’m sure you’ll like it better as you get used to it.” Max, ever the optimist.

“Maybe.”

“You never told me what happened with Quinn. You’re still grumpy as fuck, so I’m assuming you two didn’t get back together?”

I clench my jaw. “No.”

“Well that sucks. I was sure she was there to tell you she missed you.”

I lean back on my couch and squeeze my eyes shut. I debate brushing him off, but my mouth has other ideas. Before I know it, I’ve told Max the whole damn story. I know I shouldn’t have told him Quinn’s story, but I trust Max not to blab about it, and I just need to get the story out.

“Wow, that’s horrifying. I can’t believe Quinn went through that.”

“Yeah.”

“And you’re still pissed at her why?” he asks.

“Because she took my choice away from me! She lied to me! How can I ever trust her again?”

I hear him take a deep breath. “Look, I agree with you that she should have told you earlier. You shared a painful part of your past and she should have been open with you about hers.”

“Exactly.”

“But she realized she made a mistake. It seems to me like she was putting the choice back in your hands by telling you.”

“How do you figure?”

“She loves you. All of her choices have been selfless. She let you go when she thought you wanted kids, and then she apologized and told you probably the most painful thing she has ever endured in hopes that you might forgive her and see past her mistake. She was giving you the chance to look past her flaws and still choose her.”

“She hurt me.”

“I get that. Believe me, when I thought Monica cared more about her job than me, I was gutted.”

“So how did you trust her again?”

I can almost see him shrug though the phone line. “Because I couldn’t breathe without her.”

Holy fuck. That’s exactly how I feel.

“The way I figure it, we all make mistakes, but it takes guts to admit you were wrong and lay yourself bare for someone else. She gave you the power to hurt her, too.”

My heart starts to beat faster.

“Anyway, I’m sorry it didn’t work out for you two. I won’t make you keep talking about it. You still planning to come home next weekend?”

“I’ll be there.”

He goes on to tell me the agenda, but I don’t hear much. Max’s words keep echoing in my brain after we hang up.

“It seems to me like she was putting the choice back in your hands by telling you.”

“She gave you the power to hurt her, too.”

I rub my chest again. This time I don’t just feel hollow, I feel sick with regret.

I think I made the wrong choice.

 

I STARE AT THE blank canvas in front of me, trying to muster up the energy to lift my paintbrush, dunk it in some color, and drag it across the white space.

I stare at it so long, my vision blurs.

I can’t think of anything to paint. The colors look all wrong. My charcoal pencils are not that much more inspiring. After two hours of staring at different canvases around my studio, I give up. I take off my paint clothes and crawl into my bed, hugging the pillow Charlie used to use to my chest and burying my nose into it. His smell is gone, but it doesn’t stop me from hoping I might find a trace of his woodsy, spicy scent lingering somewhere.

It’s been almost two weeks since Charlie moved to New York. For some stupid reason, I still held on to a small kernel of hope that he may have just been mad at me and when he calmed down, he’d call me.

When I drove by his house in a moment of weakness and saw the sold sign in his front yard, I knew he wasn’t planning on coming back.

Monica keeps telling me that I’m strong, that I’ve survived bad shit before and I’ll survive this, but how can a heart survive so much pain? How will I face him at the wedding festivities and not fall apart? I want to tell Monica that I’m not strong enough, that I can’t be her maid of honor, but that would crush my best friend and I can’t do that.

Good thing I have five days to pull myself together before he’s due to be in town. I close my eyes and ask the universe to grant me a good dream this time, one of Charlie looking at me with love and mischief instead of hurt and anger. For once, the universe grants me my wish.

Charlie is kissing me, his tongue sweeping into my mouth to play with mine. I know it’s a dream, but I kiss him back with all I am, touching him everywhere all at once.

The sound of knocking threatens to end my dream, but I cling to him, begging him not to let me go. The knocking turns into pounding and the Charlie of my dreams fades away, slipping right through my fingers.

I wipe my face, blinking at the clock. Who would be here at 11 PM on a Monday night? Worried that it’s Monica, or worse yet, Max because something happened to Monica, I race to my front door, fastening my robe on the way.

When I open the door, I’m sure I’m still dreaming, because Charlie is on my doorstep with a suitcase at his feet. He takes me in, starting at my face then traveling down my body. I’m sure I look like a hot mess, and I tighten my robe self-consciously, trying to remember the last time I brushed my hair or washed my clothes. My eyes dart all over his face, absorbing his beautiful features. Are those circles under his eyes? His expression gives me no clues about why he’s here.

My heart pounds in my chest at his unexpected visit. What is he doing here?

“Hi,” I start tentatively.

“Can I come in?”

I open the door and step aside, trying to calm the stampede of elephants in my stomach.

He parks his suitcase next to my door then turns to face me, pinning me with his gaze. “I moved to New York.”

I nod. “I know.”

“I hate it there,” he spits out, breaths coming quicker with his irritation.

“You do?”

“I wanted to get away from you, give myself a fresh start.”

I close my eyes to shield myself, but the words still land, piercing me with pain.

“It didn’t work.” He rubs the center of his chest. “It feels like there’s something missing, some vital organ. Maybe it’s one of my lungs, because I swear I can’t breathe without you.”

My eyes fly open, not understanding. Is he saying he misses me? Or is he here to torture me?

He walks toward me, big body invading my space. He scans my face as if trying to find something. “Do you still love me?” he whispers.

I meet his gaze, those gorgeous eyes the color of the ocean. “Yes.” The elephants in my stomach are running, knocking into each other.

He closes his eyes in relief and blows out a breath. Eyes back on mine, he says, “But you thought I want to have a family so bad I’d leave you because you can’t have kids?”

“Having a family is a big deal, a deal breaker for most. I didn’t want you to settle for a childless relationship with me when you can easily find someone else.”

His eyes flare. “I don’t want anyone else!”

“You don’t?” Hope starts to burn in the pit of my stomach.

“What do you want, Quinn?”

I thought that was obvious. “I want you.”

He touches my face and I tremble at his proximity. “You hurt me.”

I nod. “I know I did. I’m so sorry. I thought I was doing the right thing.”

“You were wrong.”

A tear slips out despite my best efforts. “I know.”

He wipes my tears. “I want you, too.”

My heart stops. “What?”

“I’m in love with you, you silly woman. I want you, too.”

“But what about—”

“Kids?”

I nod. “Don’t you want to have a family?”

“I want you to be my family. The rest we can figure out. I don’t want to have a family if you’re not in it.”

Tears start falling faster now. “You say that now, but you don’t know how you’ll feel in 10 years.”

He pulls me to him, surrounding me with his strong arms. “You don’t know how you’ll feel in 10 years either. Maybe you’ll be sick of me.”

“Not possible.” I wrap my arms around his waist and hold on tight.

“I love you, Quinn Fitzpatrick.”

“I love you, Charlie Nelson.”

He steps back to look at me, his smile so wide his dimples flash at me. I laugh at the sight, touching them with my fingers.

Then he kisses me, slow and sweet at first. We breathe each other in, and I touch him everywhere, reacquainting myself with his body.

Our kisses get deeper, and all the pent-up emotion turns into fireworks. We feast on each other, he sucks my tongue into his mouth, and I bite his lower lip. He tugs my lower back toward his body, bucking his pelvis so his erection rubs my stomach. The feel of his hard dick makes me desperate to have him inside of me. I fumble with his belt buckle, unwilling to break our kiss. He helps me, unbuckling the button, unzipping his fly, and freeing his cock. We move over to the couch where I straddle him.

“Fuck, Red. I need to be inside you,” he mumbles between kisses.

“I need you inside me.”

His hands lift my pelvis just a fraction, pulling up my robe, and he rips my underwear off, the sound of the fabric tearing the hottest thing ever. Then I feel the blunt head of his cock against my pussy and I sigh in relief. He rubs it back and forth over my slit, coating himself in my wetness and arousing me with his piercing in the process.

“Now, Charlie.”

He positions himself and I sink down. The feel of him gliding inside, stretching me so full, makes us both moan. Fuck, he’s so big. I rock my pelvis back and forth, keeping him buried deep, loving the way he fills me.

“God, I missed you.” He licks his way down my neck.

“I missed you, too,” I tell him, sliding up and almost off his cock then sinking back down. Mmmm.

“I missed your pussy.” He meets me halfway, thrusting up into me.

“I missed your cock.”

He opens my robe, baring my nipples, sucking them into his mouth, pinching and pulling and biting. The sensation zings from my nipples to my clit and I angle my body toward him, giving him easier access to my tits and making my clit slide along his shaft with every thrust.

“Tell me you’re mine,” he demands.

“I’m yours.”

He clamps his mouth on the part of my neck that meets my shoulder and sucks hard. I know he’s replacing the hickey that faded away and I love it.

I feel him grow impossibly harder and he bucks into me, hands on my hips to help me ride him.

“I want to come inside of you.”

God, I want that, too. The tingling starts and I know I’m close. “I want to come on your cock.”

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck,” he chants, chasing his pleasure.

I shatter first, limbs trembling, vision blurring.

He wraps his arms around my waist, thrusts into me once more, and stills, groaning in pleasure as his cock pulses inside me.

Paralyzed and sated, I melt in a heap on top of him, and we catch our breath together. When I regain control of my limbs, I attempt to get off of him, but he just wraps his arms around me, keeping me where I am. He adjusts his position on the couch while I’m still straddling him, his cock still inside of me.

When I feel him start to soften I try to lift up again, but he just buries himself in deeper. I chuckle at this.

“Sorry, Red, but I’m not leaving your pussy for a while.”

“Fine with me.”

He smooths my hair away from my face and I lay my head in the crook of his neck.

“I love you,” he whispers.

“I love you too.”

“I have to tell you something.”

I look up, wary, but nod for him to continue.

“I quit my job and moved out of my apartment.”

I don’t know why this makes me smile, but it does. “Really?”

He smiles back at me, showing me those dimples that I love so much. “You’re smiling at the fact that I’m currently jobless and homeless?”

“Is there anything I could do to make you move back here?”

“You wouldn’t know of a place I could stay, would you?” I feel his cock harden again and he pushes his pelvis into mine.

I groan and nod, my recently sated body perking back up. “I think I know a place.”