Chapter 47
Sarah sat alone in the cottage, replaying the events in her mind. Who were these people she’d just witnessed? Charles has been a little overbearing and controlling. And Joan…whoa! Had she stepped in an alternate universe or something?
Linda’s words earlier that day invaded: he has an issue with control. He makes Joan do whatever he wants and what about Joan’s outbursts then? The ridiculous ideas she gets then refuses to budge on them even though they’re wrong. She’s quite the diva.
Sarah felt her forehead crinkle. She didn’t want to admit it, but it was a possibility.
There was another. Charles had commented that Joan was tired. Her own experience with older people showed her they could become cranky and unreasonable when they were fatigued.
She bit her lip. Was she just looking for an excuse because she didn’t want the former to be true? A heavy feeling descended upon her heart as intuition warned her the drama had just begun.
The sound of car wheels approaching caused Sarah’s stomach to jump to her head. Charles was back. Nerves made her stand. She paced in front of the bed. What was she going to say? What would he say? Oh God.
A car door opening drifted to her ears. He would be inside soon. Act normal. The unbidden warning sent a burst of energy to her legs. She darted to the writing desk, pulled out a chair, sat and lifted her manuscript to eye level.
When the sound of rustling keys came, Sarah forced the sudden dryness in her throat away by swallowing. A key slid into the door.
The door swung open. “Hi.”
There was clear uncertainty to the greeting.
Sarah forced her mouth to curl upwards before she faced him and stammered, “You’re back.”
***
He smiled. It was as fake as her attempt at seeming unfazed by what had happened. Still, he was thankful for the farce. He didn’t know how to explain anyway.
He stepped into the cottage and closed the door, “You ready to get back into it?”
She avoided eye contact with him when she answered, “Sure.”
He took a seat at her side and glanced over the notepad. “Okay, let’s look at your use of adverbs.”
“What about them?”
“You use a little too many.”
“How many should I use?”
“As few as possible. Though, having said that, some authors get away with using them liberally.”
He grinned. Had she caught the adverb he’d added at the end on purpose?
She flashed a polite smile and gave a curt nod.
He frowned. He couldn’t blame her for not being in the mood for humor. It was impossible to keep pretending that nothing had changed. No matter how much he wanted to.
He lowered the notepad and said, “Why don’t we get out of here?”
***
Sarah peeked up, “What?”
He spoke again, “It’s obvious you’re . . . not in the mood for this.”
She shrugged, “I’m okay.”
The look on his face showed her he knew she was lying.
He turned, and stared out the bay window. “I’m so sorry, Sarah. This is not how I wanted this to go. Sometimes Mom can be . . . unreasonable.”
“Mm.”
That was one word for it.
As if sensing her thought, his face whipped around, “That doesn’t mean she’s a diva.”
“I never said she was.”
I did think it though.
“It’s just that she’s under a lot of stress with the deadline for her book. Lots of late nights and long hours. You know how it can be? You get cranky and unreasonable.”
Well, it did make sense. She’d been cranky many times after a late-night writing session. Was that all it was?
She offered a smile. How else was she supposed to respond? Silence filled the room. God this is awkward. She looked away.
“How about it? You want to get out of here? Have an early dinner?”
Her heart whispered yes, but her mind stopped her from speaking the word. She scrutinized Charles’s features. The stoic expression he’d had when she’d first met him had slipped more each time they’d spent time together. Right now, the downcast face and the characteristic corner half-smile hinted at the vulnerability she’d detected from him before. This didn’t mesh with someone with a need for control. Vulnerable and controlling? Could a person be both?
She knew she’d taken too long to answer when Charles waved a hand, “Forget I said anything.”
Sarah felt her chest tighten. He wasn’t telling her they were going out. It was clear he was giving her a choice. Another example of noncontrolling behavior. Could Linda be wrong?
Her heart slipped the answer from her mouth, “I’d like to go out to dinner.”
He did an obvious double take then grinned, “Great.”
After he replaced the notepad in his hand back to the writing table, Sarah watched him grab his wallet and keys from the kitchen counter and a jacket from the closet beside the bed.
Finished, he aimed an expectant stare on her, “Ready?”
“Oh.” She shook her head, “Can you give me ten minutes to freshen up?”
He slumped to the bed, “Of course.”
As she made her way to the bag beside the bed, she sensed his gaze on her and masked the giddy affect it had on her. Her hand felt around for the items she needed inside the bag: make-up, hairbrush, and the black faux-leather jacket she loved.
She avoided looking at Charles as she stood, stepped inside the bathroom, and closed the door behind her. A long, soft exhale released from her as she studied her face in the mirror. Was she really doing this? Even after the warnings from Linda? She pressed her lips together. Despite herself, something in her gut told her she could trust Charles.
The decision made, she placed all the items in her hands on the empty space next to the basin. After running the brush through her hair, she applied basic make-up––powder, pink lipstick, black mascara––and was done. Shrugging on her jacket, she gathered the items and opened the door.
Charles turned. Was that a shift in his expression? His mouth was a little open and his pupils seemed larger. No. She was imagining things. Sarah stooped and packed the items into her bag. She rifled around until her hand felt the tiger-print ballet flats she’d packed. She slipped them onto her feet, stood and picked up the black vinyl bag she’d placed on the nightstand.
She paused for a second to check she had everything then focused back on Charles. “I’m ready.”
***
Controlling his libido was going to be hard if Sarah looked like that all weekend.
“Charles?”
Damn. He hadn’t responded yet.
He shook his head, “Uh, yeah, let’s go,” and jumped from the bed.
He opened the door and gestured with his hand for her to walk through first. When she did, his gaze zoomed to her ass. He chewed his bottom lip at the tight curves he could see filling out the back part of her jeans. Hmm. Did his mind really need more inspiration?