What the hell was I thinking?

I toss under the covers and listen to the neighbors fight, running over that fateful lunch hour again and again.

What the hell was my problem?

Charlie Cash appeared out of nowhere, ready to be my white knight, and what did I do? I took an extended lunch and left him with my number. My number. He took me to lunch in a hotel with at least one vacant room, and I left with fifteen minutes to spare so I could get back to the office on time.

My skin is still glowing everywhere he touched me, and my bottom lip is slightly swollen from when I practically tackled him on the street. In the privacy of my own semi-dark apartment, I let myself run my fingertips over it, savoring how sensitive it is. 

I could have gone with him.

He would have taken the rest of the day off to be with me. I saw it in his eyes.

How could I be so stupid?

I’m not being stupid. That’s the answer. I’m not being stupid, because I’m following through on the promise I made myself on the way to Emerald Shores, and again when I got back to the city. I promised myself I would get my life together. For the first time in years, I’m on track. I have a job. I’m good at my job. I work hard every single day, and it’s paying off.

It’s nothing without Charlie. It’s hollow.

He’s all I want, but all my progress keeps me anchored. I can’t go running off on a vacation with him every second. It’s not realistic if I want to stay grounded. And I do. I have to stay grounded. Beatrice never got the chance to grow up. She never got the chance to bitch about her job to her coworkers. She never got the chance to complain about finals in college. She never got the chance to do most of the things that I’ve done. I owe it to her to make a life for myself.

I squeeze my eyes shut and try to block out the shouting. Where’s it coming from? The floor above or the floor below? I try to visualize the sound as being contained by the walls of their apartment.

It doesn’t work. No surprises there.

I shouldn’t message Charlie at two in the morning, even if having his phone number is like having hope distilled into a diamond and hung around my neck. But the shouting only intensifies, and I can’t sleep.

I disconnect my phone from its charger and flick on the screen, then scroll down through my contacts until I reach his. One message won’t hurt anything. He’s the kind of person who’s responsible. Who sleeps at night. Who probably keeps his phone on silent at this hour.

The shouting suddenly drops off. There are a few moments of glorious, glorious quiet. I relax back onto the pillows.

A moment later, the silence is broken by a moan.

Cool.

I snatch my phone off my chest.

I missed you every single day. And I still want you, very much. That was always real.

Three seconds later my phone is ringing, the screen lit up. My face burns hot, even in the dark, at the sight of Charlie’s name. Before I lose my nerve I swipe across the screen and answer the call.

“Hello?”

“Very naughty, thinking about me at two in the morning.” I’m wet at the sound of him.

“I think the naughty part was sending the message,” I counter.

“What are you doing awake?”

“Thinking about you. Obviously.”

“Obviously,” he repeats, with a low chuckle. He sounds close, like he could be lying right next to me, but my bed is painfully empty.

There’s nothing for a heartbeat but the soft sound of his breathing over the line.

“I meant what I said,” I venture.

“I want you, too.” There’s a thoughtful pause. “But I know how hard you’ve been working. I could see it on your face today. I don’t want to take you away from that.”

There’s a rush of tears to my eyes that I fight back. No. Not over this. “I want you to take me away from that. I want you to take me away from all of this.”

“Are you sure?”

“No!” I can’t help laughing. “No. My apartment is shitty. There’s people who have been fighting all night, and they just started screwing. I can’t sleep. But I also can’t let you bail me out, as much as I want you to. I have to—”

“Do this for yourself.”

“Yes.” I turn over on my side, pressing the phone to my ear to block out the rocking of the bed against the not-far-off wall somewhere in this building. “For myself. And for Bea.”

“I get that about you.”

I smile against my pillow until I have to come up for air.

“Can I admit something else?”

“You can admit anything, sweetheart.” It sends a rush of warmth through every inch of me.

“I’m terrified that—” I force the words out. “That this won’t be enough for you. I don’t know how to do this when I’m not on a tropical island with all the time in the world.”

“Let’s start this way,” he says, and his quiet confidence erases most of my worry in one fell swoop. “Meet me at the Carlyle, Friday at eight. Do you know it?”

“I’m insulted,” I say with a laugh. “Of course I know it. I live in the city, too.” The thumping amps up another few decibels.

“Let me make it up to you.” It makes me even hotter when he speaks at this register, and he knows it. “Let me make everything up to you, Josie.”

“One more chance,” I tease.

“One more chance, and then a hundred more?”

“Yes,” I say.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Wait!”

There’s a rustling on the other end of the line. “What?”

“What should I wear?”

“Remember what you were wearing on the plane to Emerald Shores?”

“Yoga pants?”

“I love those on you,” Charlie says with a low chuckle. “But don’t wear those. I think you’ll want to be dressed up.”

“Are we not talking about a date anymore? It seems like we’re not talking about a date.”

“Who said anything about a date?” Charlie laughs, once more. “Get some sleep, Josie.”

He’s gone before I can say another word.