Two months earlier
Charlie
The first thing I noticed when I came to the morning after the spring concert was the splitting headache.
My ears rang, loud and shrill, and I creaked one eye open first before the other. When I tried to sit up, a sledgehammer smacked me back down. I groaned, massaging my temples as I laid back into the pillow.
The reality of what had happened the night before filtered in slowly through the waves of my headache, seeping in like frigid ice to my veins. I pressed into my temples, and then I saw a flash of Reese in the closet at school. I pinched the bridge of my nose, and then I saw Cameron’s glossed eyes as he begged me to stay.
It was a nightmare, one I’d agreed to subject myself to for two more months.
I was giving Cameron the chance to keep me, but it was Reese who held my heart now.
“Hey.”
I opened my eyes again, finding Cameron standing in the doorway of our bedroom. He was already fully dressed for work, his jaw clean shaven, tie fastened at his neck and dark hair styled neat. He balanced a steaming cup of tea on a tiny saucer plate, and when he crossed to sit on the edge of the bed next to me, I saw two small pills next to the mug.
“Ibuprofen,” he said, handing me those first. “Figured you might need these.”
My eyes were heavy from crying, heart heavy from fighting, and I pushed to sit up as slowly as I could before tossing the coated pills in my mouth. I swallowed, shaking my head when Cameron offered me the tea to help wash them down. He set the mug on our nightstand, exactly where the cup he’d brought me the night before had gone cold.
“How are you feeling?”
Cameron’s hand reached forward for mine, cupping over my fingers, and I stared at that point of contact as another sharp pain ripped through my head.
“Tired,” I answered. It was the best word I had to wrap up everything I felt. I was exhausted — from the night, from the past couple of months, from the last five years. I wanted to sleep until my nightmare was over. I wanted to cry at just the thought of what I had yet to endure, at the fact that I couldn’t just wake up to a new, brighter day where life was simple again.
Cameron squeezed my hand.
“Maybe you should stay home today.”
I shook my head before he’d even finished his sentence, throwing the covers back. “No. I want to go.”
“I think everyone would understand after last night if you—“
“I want to go, Cameron.”
I said the words with finality, and his brows bent together. He knew why I wanted to go, or rather, whom I wanted to go to. But he didn’t let me see his heart break as that truth settled in.
“Okay,” he said with a slight nod.
He stood first, holding out his hand to help me up. I wobbled a little, my head swimming, but Cameron held onto me and kept me steady. When the dizziness passed, I opened my eyes and took him in. My husband. The man I’d promised forever to.
The promise I wasn’t sure I could keep anymore.
Cameron pulled his phone from his pocket, tapping a few buttons on the screen before setting it gently beside my tea on the nightstand. A soft, slow melody filled the room, a song I wasn’t familiar with, and Cameron pulled me into his arms just as the first verse began.
He swayed me gently, but I was stiff in his arms, my eyes catching on the clock. I needed to get ready.
“I should get dressed,” I said, but Cameron still swayed, his hand on the small of my back rubbing gently.
“Just one dance.”
“You’re going to be late for work.”
“They’ll live.”
I looked at him then, just as the chorus swept over us, and I tried to remember the last time he put me before work. When was the last time he said work could wait, and I was priority number one?
I couldn’t remember.
And now, it only felt like he was doing so because he knew he’d lost me.
It was too late, and only now was he waking up.
“Cameron, about last night…”
He shook his head firmly, pulling me closer until my head rested on his chest. He wrapped me up tighter, like that embrace would make me stay, like he could be the anchor that would keep me home.
“We don’t need to talk about that right now,” he whispered. “I know it was a lot of me to ask, and a lot for you to give. And I know it doesn’t mean anything will change.” Cameron swallowed then, stopping our dance long enough to pull back and look me in the eyes. “But I won’t waste this chance, Charlie. I won’t let you go without doing everything in my power to make you want to stay.”
He looked younger then, in that morning light. Like the man I fell in love with.
“All I’m asking is that you try, that you let me in again. Just… give me this time with your heart before you decide to give it all to him.”
The pain that had reverberated in my head all morning zipped down through my chest, and my next breath was haggard and harsh. I didn’t know what to say, didn’t know how to feel about the fact that he wanted me.
It wasn’t long ago that I would have fallen into his arms overwhelmed with joy at his proclamation. I would have sobbed, would have sighed with relief at him finally coming back to me.
But now, I only felt pain — and anger.
Because it wasn’t until he’d lost me, until I’d found comfort in Reese’s arms that Cameron had noticed me again.
Cameron pulled me back into him, resting his chin on my head as we swayed, my left hand in his right, my ear to his chest. I closed my eyes, listening to his heart beat, and the longer the song played, the more I felt him. My breaths came a little lighter, the pain in my chest receding, and I sighed.
I still loved him.
I knew that last night. I knew it all weekend, even when I was with Reese, even when I knew I would leave Cameron I also knew I still loved him. I wasn’t sure that would ever change, no matter what happened next.
He was the father of my children, the stealer of my heart, the comforter of my soul. He was my family. He was my home.
I just didn’t know if that was enough.
As the song ended, Cameron hugged me tight to him, and I blinked away the tears threatening to fall.
“I need to get ready,” I said after a moment, my voice low.
It must have killed him, to hear those words when I was in his arms, to know I would get dressed and go to another man. But Cameron just nodded, kissing my forehead before letting me go.
“Okay. Can I make you something for breakfast?”
I shook my head. “The tea is fine.”
Cameron’s gaze swept over our nightstand.
“I promise I’ll drink it,” I added, hoping to ease at least that part of his worry. “And I’ll eat at lunch. I just need to let my stomach stabilize a little.”
He forced a smile, but it fell quickly, and he straightened his tie with a look of resignation. “Okay. I’ll see you tonight?”
I forced a smile back. “Mm-hmm.”
“Okay.” He nodded, hands sliding in the pockets of his slacks. He looked around like he didn’t know what to do next before leaning in for a kiss.
My lips met his briefly, just a peck, and then I skirted behind him to our closet.
A few minutes later, I heard the front door close.
I ripped the first blouse I saw from the hanger, throwing it on haphazardly before pairing it with a simple navy skirt. My hair was back in a bun in the next breath, and I didn’t even check the mirror to assess my tired eyes. I knew they were puffy and underlined with deep purple skin, but it didn’t matter.
I needed to get to Reese.
As tough as the night had been for me, I knew it must have been torturous for him. He had no idea what happened when I got home, no idea what I was thinking, or feeling, or what would happen next.
He would be angry when he found out, that much I knew. He’d be hurt. I’d promised Cameron a chance. I’d given him my word that, at least for the next two months, I’d stay.
And where did that leave Reese?
That was the question he’d have for me, and I only had the ten-minute drive to school to figure out the answer.
Reese
Blake sat at my kitchen bar, one foot propped under her on the stool while the other hung below her. Her bright blonde hair was piled in a messy bun on top of her head, a few strands hanging down to frame her face. That same hair had been sprawled over my chest when we woke that morning, and all I could think when my eyes opened and I saw it there was that it was the wrong color.
She shoved another bite of cereal in her mouth, her eyes on the fort in the living room.
“Do you mind if I clean that up today?” she asked, nodding to where the sheets hung from the fort Charlie and I had built. “I’ll wash all those sheets and get this place looking somewhat decent. I figured you hadn’t hung a single thing on the wall,” she added with a chuckle. “I’ll spend the day making a plan and I can start shopping tomorrow, start making this place feel more like a home.”
“That’s fine,” I answered, though my fists curled at the thought of her touching the fort. Still, I knew she needed something to do, something to fix. That was who she was. And I was one of her favorite projects.
“Great. I was thinking plum, white, and gray for the bedroom. Just a dash of plum, though. Nothing too dark. And for the living room, I’ll get some throw pillows to brighten up that dark couch. What do you think of mint?”
She kept talking, but I couldn’t register a single word. I just nodded along, giving her permission she wasn’t really even asking for. I needed a cigarette like I needed blood in my veins, but I’d promised Charlie I’d try to quit. That was when she was still in my home, in our fort, in my arms.
Now, she was gone, and Blake was in her place.
I still couldn’t believe she was here, in Pennsylvania, in the house I’d had Charlie in just hours before Blake had shown up on my front porch.
She was New York. She was bright city lights and lonely broken nights. She was a chapter I’d already read, one I’d turned the page on when I left the city. It didn’t feel right that she was here, in a place she never existed to me.
But I couldn’t be mad she’d shown up. Not really.
Because we’d never technically ended our relationship when I left.
I met Blake a couple of years before my family died. I was piss ass drunk at a dive bar on the lower east side, causing trouble with one of my buddies from Juilliard.
It was a normal night for me — play piano at the restaurant all night for rich people who didn’t hear me anyway, meet up with Ben at his place, hammer down some whiskey and stumble into the first bar we found. Crashing karaoke bars was our favorite, because we could make fun of other drunk assholes and feel a little better about the fact that we were thirty years old and still partying like we were twenty-one.
Neither of us were in a relationship, neither of us had kids, and neither of us had plans. We were the perfect pair.
But on that particular Friday night, Blake had stumbled into the same bar with a group of her girlfriends. She’d gone on stage solo and sang the most beautiful version of Fleetwood Mac’s Dreams I’d ever heard in my life, and I’d declared on a stomach full of whiskey that I’d marry her one day.
We went on our first date a week later.
Blake had never really been my girlfriend. She was more of a friend who liked to get naked as much as I did. We’d meet up every now and then, sometimes going months between seeing each other, and every time we got together, we lost ourselves in each other. There were long nights spent in my apartment, smoking cigarettes and making out between stories. She’d always be gone the next morning before I woke up, and I never really knew when I’d see her again. I just knew that I would.
But when my family died, everything changed.
Blake had been there for me. She was the only one. She’d helped me with everything — the funeral, the will, the reporters, my bills, my job. There was so much to do, to handle, and I could barely get out of bed in the morning. In fact, on most days, I didn’t. But Blake was there, handling all of it. She’d even tried to save me from myself when I was blowing through my inheritance, begging me for a small portion of it to invest.
That was all that was left of it now.
She hadn’t just been there to handle the paperwork, either. She’d been there on the long, torturous nights where I’d break down into tears and drink myself stupid trying to mourn my loss. It was in that time that I realized those nights we’d slept together, the nights she’d shared my bed, we’d also shared a deeper part of ourselves.
She loved me. She loved me enough to be there for me in one of the darkest times of my life. And in that time, I realized I loved her, too.
Blake moved in with me a few weeks after my family passed just to make sure I wouldn’t hurt myself. She took care of me like a mother, like a sister, like a friend, and like a wife.
So, I made her my girlfriend.
But when it came to moving, I hadn’t thought twice about her. It was shitty, and I hated to admit it out loud. But that was just the way we were. She had never told me she loved me, and I never told her. She was there when I needed her, and I was there when she needed me. But she was busy with her own life just as I was with mine, and though we lived together, it was almost more as roommates than anything.
Sure, we had the title, but it didn’t feel like anything had changed between us. We were still the same boy and girl who slept together and didn’t talk for months at a time, except now we still shared a bed.
So, when I left, I didn’t even consider the fact that she might want more.
I just thought that was where it ended. We had a few conversations about keeping in touch, about seeing each other when I came back into town, but we never said we would stay together. We never said we would do the long-distance thing, or that she would move, or I would come back.
Then again, we never said we were done, either.
And so, I couldn’t really be mad that she’s surprised me, probably thinking it’d make me happy to see her. And in a way, I was. Blake was perhaps my only true friend I had anymore.
But I had no idea how to explain her to Charlie, or vice versa.
And I had no idea what her being here meant.
“I need to get going,” I said after she’d run off a list of all the things she wanted to accomplish that day. I dumped what was left of my coffee in the sink and swiped my coat off the counter. “I’ll leave the spare house keys hanging on the hook by the door, and just text me if you need anything.”
“Okay,” she said with a bright smile. “I’ll make dinner tonight, too. What time do you think you’ll be home?”
“Not sure.” My mind shot to Charlie. “But I’ll let you know.”
Blake smiled, hopping off the barstool and skipping around the kitchen island until she was in my arms. I had no choice but to catch her, to pull her into me, and when she leaned up to press a kiss to my lips, I kissed her back.
And I felt like absolute scum.
By the time I made it to school, it was only ten minutes before the first bell. It was the latest I’d been since I started, and I knew without a second guess that it was too late to talk to Charlie before the day began.
Still, I bolted to her classroom, and when I saw her standing at her whiteboard with her teacher’s aide, I didn’t know whether to sigh with relief or crumble from the pain. Her eyes flicked to mine as she ran over the day’s plan with Robin, and they didn’t give anything away before they were gone again. I watched her intently, waiting, watching the clock behind her, knowing there wasn’t time to hear all I hoped to.
When Robin nodded and began distributing workbooks to each table, Charlie walked slowly and calmly over to where I stood in her doorway.
“Mr. Walker,” she said, loud enough for Robin to hear. “Good morning. How are you?”
“Very well,” I answered automatically. “Wanted to come check on you after last night. Feeling okay?”
“Yes, I’m okay. Thank you for asking. It was a wonderful spring concert, by the way. I’m sure Mr. Henderson is very proud of all your hard work.”
I forced a smile, but my stomach turned as I searched her face for a sign of something — anything — to let me know how she was truly feeling.
I found nothing.
“I was wondering if you have plans for lunch. I wanted to go over the concert with you, talk about ways to improve for next semester.”
“Oh,” Charlie said, and she glanced briefly over her shoulder at Robin, who seemed oblivious to our conversation, anyway. “Sure. I’ll see you in the café then?”
“Perfect.”
I stood rooted to that spot, my hands in my pockets wrapped into tight fists to keep from reaching for her. I wanted to kiss her so badly I felt the pain of it like a thorn in my heart. Her hair was in a bun at the nape of her neck, her eyes tired and dark, her expression weary. I wanted to pull her into me, to play her any song she wanted to hear and then make love to her in our fort.
In our fort that Blake was currently taking down.
My stomach rolled again. I knew I had to tell Charlie about Blake, and I felt that Charlie had something to tell me, too. I had no idea what happened after she fainted at the concert last night. Did they fight? Did she tell him she was leaving? Did he make her cry?
I searched her eyes with my own, begging her to give me some kind of sign.
And then, slowly, purposefully — she smiled.
It was just a small smile, but it was a real one, one that told me we would talk later. I didn’t know what that conversation would hold, but that smile gave me hope — it gave me something to hold onto.
I sighed with the relief it brought, offering her a smile of my own.
She was still mine. She was still with me. There was hope.
“Have a good morning, Mr. Walker,” she said, and her eyes softened, her own hand twitching forward for me before she clasped it over her opposite wrist, instead.
“You too, Mrs.… Pierce.” I swallowed, lips flattening. “See you at lunch.”
When I was clear of her, I took a full breath, letting it out like a frustrated bull.
Four hours. I had to wait four hours to talk to her.
I watched the clock all morning.
Charlie was late to lunch.
I’d already piled up a plate with a hot sandwich that was rapidly turning cold as I sat at the table in the far back corner of the teachers’ café, waiting for Charlie to show. I checked my phone for a text from her, but there was nothing.
There were several texts from Blake about the house, and dinner, and movie options for after dinner. But I couldn’t think about her — not yet, not before I talked to Charlie.
She finally rushed in twenty minutes after I’d already been there, and I threw my hand up to wave her back. She blew out a sigh, shoving her phone into her pocket like she’d just ended a call.
“Sorry,” she said on a breath as she slid her bag into one of the empty chairs at the table I’d claimed.
I waited for her to tell me who was on the phone, but she didn’t offer anything past the apology.
“It’s okay,” I said, but my eyes drifted to her pocket, wondering if it was Cameron who had called. “Grab a plate and we can talk?” I suggested.
She looked at the bar of food like eating was the last thing she wanted to do, but she nodded. “Yeah, I should probably try to eat. Let me just grab a bowl of soup.”
I couldn’t take my eyes off her as she moved through the line of teachers, and I kept them there as she took the seat across from me, the steam from her soup drifting up to her nose.
“Hi,” she said once she seated.
“Hi.”
She smiled.
I smiled.
Then, her brows bent together, her hand sliding up to rest flat on the table.
“I missed you last night,” she whispered.
I laughed, blowing out a breath. “To say I missed you, too, would be the understatement of the century.” I shifted. “What happened, Charlie?”
Her face broke a little more, and she glanced around us. There were only a few other teachers still in the café, most had already eaten and made their way back to their classrooms.
“I don’t know,” she said with a sigh, running a hand up to smooth over her hair. “We talked. He took care of me after I fainted.”
“I would have, too.”
“I know,” she said. “That’s not what I meant. I just mean he took me home, made me some tea. And we talked.” She swallowed. “I told him I wanted a divorce.”
My heart stopped, kicking to life again with a newfound hope. It was unbelievable, that she’d told him about us, that she’d told him she was done. So much so that I questioned if I’d imagined hearing her say it, at all.
But there she was, sitting across from me, telling me she would leave her husband and be with me.
It was real. She wanted me.
Charlie Reid was finally mine.
My hand slid up onto the table to mirror hers, and I pushed it forward. There were still at least twelve inches between our fingertips, but I felt the charge between them like we were holding hands. I wished so desperately to pull her into me, to kiss her, to tell her she was making the right decision.
That I would love her better.
“What did he say?” I asked once my heart had settled.
Charlie looked down at her soup.
“He asked me for two months.”
And just like that, all the hope drained.
Those words hung between us like smoke, and my gaze dropped to Charlie’s soup, too. I couldn’t look at her when I asked the next question.
“What does that mean?”
Where does that leave me?
Charlie’s eyes stayed on the soup.
“He said you’d been back in my life for two months,” she said. “He said he wanted the same amount of time to show me I should stay.”
“Bullshit.”
Charlie reddened. “Reese…”
“No, it’s bullshit. He’s had years, Charlie. Years.” I shook my head.
The logical side of me echoed my thoughts with of course he asked for more time, he loves her and doesn’t want to lose her, dumb ass. But the side of me that had tasted Charlie, the side that had felt what it was like to own her — that side said bullshit.
He didn’t deserve her. He’d naïvely believed he could treat her the way he had for five years and she’d just stay. He thought she’d never leave. And then when she finally told him she was going, he begged for more time.
Bullshit.
“Why should he get another two months?” I asked.
I was fuming, nostrils flaring as Charlie slipped her hand back from where it rested in front of mine and picked up her soup spoon, instead. I felt the loss of that energy between us, and I reached my hand forward, begging her to keep the connection.
“I don’t know, because he wants a chance, I guess,” she said with a shrug. “He wants more time.”
“And what do you want?”
She closed her eyes on a breath.
“I don’t know, Reese. I’m just… I’m confused. I love him, too.” Her eyes opened again, the pain in them mirroring mine. “I’m sorry, but I do. This is all… it’s so much.”
She dropped her soup spoon before even attempting to take a bite, sitting back in her chair.
My hand inched forward again, and she watched the movement, her eyes stuck on my fingertips before they found me again. I needed to touch her. I needed to hold her, to remind her what it felt like when she was in my arms this weekend.
Watching her sitting there so close to me, yet so far away, it was almost as torturous as the night she left me in the fort we’d built. And with the next words she spoke, the same longing ache I’d felt that night ripped through me like a knife.
“I told him yes.”
Her voice was just a whisper, but it might as well have been a train.
“I gave him two months.”
I closed my eyes, pushing a breath through my nose as I tried to hold onto what hope was still left.
I wanted to scream, to flip tables and demand for her to leave him tonight. The rational side of me didn’t exist when it came to Charlie. There was only the mad man inside me, the one who had wanted her for so long — too long — and now that he’d had her, there was no satiating him.
She had to be mine. That was the only answer.
But I knew I couldn’t have her if I didn’t give her the time she needed, the space to make the decision on her own.
She had to choose me, too.
After a moment, I leaned back in my own chair, my hand still flat on the table, though there was too much distance between us now. “I understand,” I finally said.
“You do?”
“I do.”
Charlie sighed, leaning forward, her hand on the table again. She spread her fingers over the cool surface, her eyes on mine.
“Thank you,” she said, fingers inching forward.
We watched each other, and I asked her without words what this meant for me — for us. When her hand reached just far enough for her middle finger to touch the tip of mine, my heart squeezed.
It didn’t change anything for us. That small touch told me so.
Hope trickled back in.
“There’s something I need to tell you, too,” I said, and I swept my hand over hers.
But before I could say another word, Mr. Henderson swung into the café, his eyes lighting up when he spotted us in the corner.
I pulled my hand from Charlie quickly, running it back through my hair and forcing a smile as he approached. Charlie arched a questioning brow, but when Mr. Henderson came into her view, she sat up straighter, finally taking the first bite of her soup.
“Afternoon, Mr. Walker,” he said, greeting me first before nodding at Charlie. “Mrs. Pierce. I’m so glad I found you two together. I have great news.”
Charie’s cheeks were tinged a deep pink, and she only smiled up at Mr. Henderson briefly before taking another bite of her soup.
“What news is that?” I asked.
He clapped his hands together excitedly, his eyes doubling in size. “Well, I just received confirmation that we have two seats at the Star Schools Conference again this year. Are you familiar?”
He didn’t wait for me to answer before he continued.
“It’s a high-end conference for teachers at model schools, mostly private, some public. Incredible speakers and break-out sessions, one of the best conferences in the nation. This year they’re in Miami, and, well…” Mr. Henderson gave us both a toothy smile. “I hope you two like the beach!”
Charlie and I exchanged a look.
“Are you saying that you’re sending us?” Charlie asked.
“I am! How could I not send two of my award-nominated teachers?” he said.
That earned him more blank looks from us.
“I’m so happy to be the one to tell you that you have both been nominated for awards at our annual Westchester Year End Gala. Reese, you have been nominated for our Bright Beginning award, which is reserved for teachers who have joined us in the last eighteen months. And Charlie,” he said, turning to her with the most prideful smile I’d ever seen him wear. “You, my dear, have been nominated for Teacher of the Year.” He chuckled. “And if it counts for anything at all, you’ve already got my vote.”
Charlie covered her mouth with the fingertips I’d just touched, her eyes finding mine before they drifted back up to Mr. Henderson. “Me?”
“Yes, you.” Mr. Henderson extended his hand for hers. “Congratulations.”
She shook his hand deftly, shock still painting her face. “I’m… honored. Thank you.”
“You’re quite welcome, I’m so happy I had the pleasure of telling you. Now,” he said once he had finished shaking Charlie’s hand. “The conference is in less than three weeks. I’ll work on finding substitutes for your classrooms, as it takes place on a Thursday, Friday, Saturday. You’ll fly back Sunday. Mrs. Trumane at the front office will email you all the details, as well as your travel information.”
Charlie still couldn’t speak, so I thanked Mr. Henderson for us, and after swiping a cupcake from the bar, he was gone.
“Congratulations, Charlie,” I said, reaching forward for her hand. This time I took it greedily, squeezing it in my own, wishing I could do so much more. “I’m so happy for you.”
“Thank you,” she whispered, shaking her head. “I just… I can’t believe it.” Then, her eyes caught mine. “And we’re going to a conference.”
“We are.”
“Just the two of us.”
I smirked. “Indeed.”
The first bell rang, signaling the end of the lunch hour, and Charlie’s attention snapped to the clock on the wall before she jumped up.
“I didn’t realize how late it was. I have to get back.”
“Wait,” I said, standing with her. I stepped a little closer, lowering my voice.
“I have to run. We can talk more at dinner tomorrow night?”
“Dinner?”
She smiled. “I figured they hadn’t told you. Pretend to be surprised, please? My parents invited Cameron and I to come watch you play at the restaurant.”
A flurry of thoughts and feelings assaulted me at her surprise — happiness that her parents wanted to see me play, relief that I’d get to see Charlie outside of school, anger that Cameron would be there with her, and complete dread at the fact that I likely wouldn’t be able to keep Blake away.
“Can we have lunch again tomorrow?”
Charlie was already rushing toward the door, her bag slung over her shoulder. “I can’t, meeting with Robin to discuss a few lesson plans. I’ll need to make a plan for when we’re out for the conference now, too.”
Something had shifted in Charlie since the beginning of lunch, likely due to her award nomination. She smiled so brightly, her cheeks rosy pink, hazelnut eyes wide and light.
I hated that I had to share her.
She seemed to read that emotion on my face, because she checked over her shoulder that we were alone, then she stepped into me, lifting up onto her toes to press a kiss to my lips.
I stiffened, eyes still open and searching behind her, but the other teachers had gone already. So, I melted into her, pulling her flush against me and sucking her bottom lip between my teeth. She grinned against my lips, sealing the kiss with one last peck, and then she pulled back, flushed.
“For the record,” I said, sweeping a fallen strand of her hair behind her ear. “I hate that you’re going home to him tonight.”
Her face crumpled. “Please… I need you to understand.”
“I do,” I assured her. “But it doesn’t make me hate it any less.”
She squeezed my hand in understanding, and I held that hand as she walked away, only letting it drop once she’d reached the doorway of the café. I watched her go, leaning against the doorframe until she disappeared around the corner of the hallway, and then I finally made my way back to my classroom.
Two months.
I shook my head, disappointed in myself that I’d thought Cameron would let her go so easily. I hated him for asking her for anything, most of all more time, but I couldn’t blame him. He was playing his last cards, whatever ones he had left.
I would have done the same.
I would have done anything to keep her.
Still, I didn’t know how I would get her alone now, how I would remind her of the way it felt to be together this weekend. Something happened in my house, in that fort, at that piano — it was like traveling back in time, but as the people we are now. I wanted to share all of my scars with her, and I wanted to heal all of hers in return.
That would be harder to do with Cameron holding on so tight.
The realization that Blake was in the picture now, too, made me curl my fists in the pockets of my slacks. I didn’t know where to start with explaining her to Charlie, and I didn’t know how to cut Blake out of the picture, either.
The truth was, I loved her, too. I didn’t want to hurt her.
But I didn’t want to be with her, either.
I sighed, running a frustrated hand through my hair. The truth would have to come out — to Charlie first, and eventually, to Blake. Would Charlie hate me? Would she understand?
Would this work in Cameron’s favor?
I didn’t have any of the answers, but I knew one thing for sure.
I had to get Charlie alone before tomorrow night.