Chapter 13
Charlie had no words. Standing on Emmaline and Lucas’s doorstep, she hesitated to ring the doorbell. Then someone would arrive, and she’d have to open her mouth and say something meaningful. It had been her own damn idea to approach Emmaline, but now she couldn’t seem to go through with it.
The other butler was the natural choice in a situation like this. She’d give good advice, and the right kind of advice, because she didn’t possess Sara’s British reserve or Charlie’s own practical bent.
Unlike Charlie too, Emmaline was free with her emotions and her affections. She didn’t have such a need for control.
Which last night Charlie had ceded to Ethan, without a qualm. Even now she could feel his hand on her head as he filled her mouth, and her scalp tingled thinking of the way he’d used it and her hair to steer her movements. To take him deep, deeper.
“What are you doing out here looking all flushed and dreamy?”
She blinked, coming out of her trance to realize Emmaline had opened the door.
“Did I press the bell?” she asked her friend.
“Lucas saw you from an upper window.” Grasping her hand, she pulled Charlie over the threshold.
“Ouch,” Charlie said, slipping free to rub the pink fingerprints in her skin. “What’s with you?”
“I’m impatient.” Emmaline made a wild gesture with both arms. “You dropped the mama bombshell nearly a week ago, and then basically cut off all communication.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Lucas insisted I wait for you to get in touch.” She lifted her face to glare in the direction of the second story. “Big meanie.”
“I hope he found some way to entertain you since the sad story of my life had to wait.”
In a lightning change of mood, Emmaline grinned. “Oh, he did. And I’m getting him back by buying oodles of bridal magazines and talking incessantly about cathedral-length veils and a guest list creeping into the thousands.”
Grabbing Charlie’s hand again, this time with a lighter touch, she drew her into the kitchen. There, she served her a cup of coffee and placed cookies on a plate that she then nudged her way. “Give me the details.”
It wasn’t why she’d come, but she told her friend the circumstances of Wells’ birth and then what happened after she’d told the same to Ethan, making a silent promise to give Sara the information at the first opportunity.
“So he still wants to get married,” Emmaline said, pulling a tissue from the pocket of the apron she wore. She dabbed at her eyes. “I think this is so romantic.”
Exactly why Charlie had come to her friend. “Last night…last night he told me he loves me.”
But she’d clammed up in response, unable to even say “thank you” though it might in part be due to the breathless orgasms he’d delivered next. After, while he lay dozing, she’d snuck back to her bungalow, hiding there until it was time to drop off Wells at a birthday party.
Ethan had been warm and polite when they’d crossed paths as she’d collected the wrapped gift from the butler’s pantry. But she’d avoided his gaze and gone tongue-tied, her face a red-hot mess.
Emmaline was blotting more tears. “I’m so, so happy for you. You thought you didn’t want love—”
“I didn’t say it back,” Charlie blurted out. “I couldn’t.”
“You think you don’t love him?” Emmaline stared. “Everybody’s sure you love Ethan.”
Charlie frowned. “Wait. What? Everyone—”
“Never mind about that.” Her butler friend dusted the air. “Do you love him?”
Miserable, Charlie nodded. But she’d been locking down on that emotion for years, afraid that losing her heart would mean just…losing…that she couldn’t seem to express what was inside her now. “I just don’t know how to say it.”
“You’re looking for the right words.”
She nodded again. Last night, she’d even hit the internet thinking there might be a foreign one that would encapsulate everything she felt. She’d found kummerspeck, which might come in handy if she couldn’t find her way around this problem, since it referred to emotional overeating—literal meaning, “grief bacon”—and she hoped cavoli riscaldati, or “reheated cabbage,” wouldn’t need to enter her vocabulary, as it meant trying to resuscitate a relationship gone bad. “Will you help me, Emmaline?”
Her friend considered, her head tilted, her lips pursed. Finally, she spoke. “I don’t think so, Charlie.”
“You don’t think so? What? Why not?”
Her friend was shaking her head.
Charlie beat down the panic. “Em, if you don’t tell me what to say, what will I do?”
“I’m not going to be your Cyrano, silly friend.”
“If you won’t help me, then it’s not going to happen.” Charlie was beginning to feel a little dramatic herself. She even waved her arms around, Italian Emmaline-style. “Ethan will marry me anyway, and it will be the worst marriage ever because I can’t manage to say three simple words or even a reasonable facsimile thereof.”
“I’m also not your obstacle.” Then Emmaline, getting all handsy again, pulled Charlie off her seat and towed her to the door. “Girl, go out there and find the way to unlock your heart.”
“Emmaline—”
“Then show your man what’s inside it.”
Stymied, Charlie drove up and down the Pacific Coast Highway until it was time to retrieve Wells from the birthday party. Back at the house with the boy by her side, she agreed to go down to the beach with the bucket of sand toys. Maybe a wave would wash in a bottle with the right love words inside.
She sat next to Wells on the beach, the sun like a warm bath of honey. The sound of the ocean soothed her, as did watching the boy dig and rake the golden sand. The moment seemed to stretch both forward and backward, and it was as if she’d never missed a second of this child’s life. She felt one with Michelle, his other mother, the two of them a single maternal guard and guide for this precious boy.
Something inside her loosened, and then a bubble expanded and burst in her chest, releasing a giddy feeling she recognized as pure happiness.
Grinning, she picked up one of the toys, yellow plastic shaped like a chubby screwdriver, and stepped to the flat, damp sand revealed by the outgoing tide. There, she wrote the words she’d never dared to say.
BBITG: I LOVE YOU!
She felt her son’s presence as she put the dot on the exclamation point. Breathless, she sent him a wary glance.
“Cool,” he said, then grabbed her hand. “I need help with my castle.”
It was as if her big statement was nothing new to him. She laughed to herself as she followed him to his sand palace-in-progress. Some things were hard without two hands, so they worked together to straighten the tower and dig a moat. When Charlie brought back a bucket of sea water to fill it, Wells cleared his throat.
“At the birthday party, Serafina followed me into Jenny’s playhouse in the back yard.”
“Oh?” Charlie braced for what came next. That little girl had a mean mouth on her.
“Then when nobody was looking, she kissed me.”
Oh. “On the cheek?”
Wells placed a finger on his forehead. “Right there. Yuk. Why would she do that?”
She could understand the boy’s confusion. Serafina had been less than warm to Wells from the get-go. “I think some people find it easier to show how they feel than say it.”
“No.” Wells stared at her for a long minute. “Do you think she likes me?”
Charlie shrugged. “Odds are.”
“I’ll never understand girls,” he said, clearly disgusted.
Later, as they gathered up the toys before returning to the house, she glanced at the words she’d written in the sand. The tide had reversed direction and the waves were washing higher on the shore. Soon her sentiment would be swept away.
Wells looked over his shoulder too, and it wasn’t clear if he was taking in the words she’d written or the castle that would be wiped out before long as well. “We can always do it again tomorrow.”
Meaning no opportunity was lost forever.
Though she’d missed her chance for an “I love you, too” the night before, she had another chance to tell Ethan what was in her heart…if only she could find the right way and the right words.
Restless, she took another drive when Ethan and Wells went out for a late afternoon pizza. She found herself at the elementary school, and when she discovered the gates open, she made her way to the auditorium. Its doors were propped open too, and she peeked in to see the choir club practicing on stage. The director, a parent that she recognized, waved at Charlie, and she ventured inside to check on the book fair.
All appeared undisturbed. The previous night, she’d pulled the shelves together, huddling them like a wagon train, and then lightly strung caution tape around the grouping.
Relief trickled through her. It was absurd, she recognized that, how much importance she’d assigned to the event. But it had come to represent a symbol of her potential success as a surrogate parent.
And now as a potential member of the Archer family.
If only she could find a way to say those damn three words without choking on them.
Her eye caught on a book that had slipped from the shelving and sat on the dusty floor. Ducking under the tape, she reached for it then brushed the grime off the glossy paper cover with her sleeve.
It was a picture book about a little kid attending a wedding—the remarriage of his father.
And suddenly Charlie knew how to make the big statement that was in her heart.
Some people find it easier to show how they feel than say it.
With new hope, she dug in her purse for her phone and one of her notebooks. It was time to put her organizational skills to the test…as well as her courage.
Ethan wasn’t in the mood for a round of golf. He’d been brooding since Friday night when Charlie had departed from his bed as if her fine ass was on fire. Letting her go had been difficult, but every minute since, that “difficult” ratcheted higher in the direction of “fucking frustrating.”
“I’m going to have a shit game today,” he announced from the back seat.
In the front seat, Lucas and Joaquin exchanged glances.
He didn’t even recall agreeing to this afternoon’s outing. A text from Charlie had shown up on his phone, reminding him of the time, which was followed up by one from Joaquin, informing him they’d pick him up at 4:30.
“We won’t have time to get in eighteen holes before dark,” he muttered.
“What can we do to improve your state of mind?” Joaquin asked, a thread of laughter in his voice.
Bastard. He’d run off with his lady and married her in Vegas. What would he know about dealing with a stubborn butler? Sara hadn’t hesitated to get hitched to her man at the first opportunity.
He glanced out the window, twin headaches boring holes in his temples. “What course did you say we’d play?”
“We didn’t,” Lucas said, annoyingly cheerful.
Instead of pressing for an answer, Ethan closed his eyes. Maybe he should abort this entire afternoon. “You know what? Why don’t you drop me off at the next exit? I’ll call a car service to get home.”
At the long silence, he opened his eyes. The other two men sat stony-faced.
“What’s going on?” he demanded, suddenly suspicious.
Lucas glanced at him in the rearview mirror. “If you must know, we’ve kidnapped you.”
“Kidnapped me?”
“It’s become kind of a habit, if two times makes a habit,” the other man said.
“It’s sixty-six times that makes a habit actually,” Joaquin said. “I read that anyway. So you’d have to kidnap somebody every day for more than two months before calling it a habit.”
Lucas frowned. “I don’t believe that. Is that really every day, or would it qualify if you kidnapped someone every Tuesday for two months?”
“Maybe if you worked on your kidnap plans every day but only did the deed itself on Tuesdays.” Joaquin seemed to consider. “Yeah, that sounds possible.”
Ethan stared between the two men, wondering if they’d lost their minds. “What the hell is going on?”
They shared another glance, then Joaquin looked over his seat to grimace at Ethan. “It was your friend John’s idea.”
Ethan narrowed his eyes. “What was his idea?”
“He suggested we ask you to play golf, that it would get you into the car, and then…”
“Then?” Ethan prompted. Then, oh, shit, it hit him. “John’s put together some sort of bachelor party thing?”
“That sounds about right,” Lucas said. “Some sort of bachelor thing. A party.”
“Shit.” Ethan let his head fall back to the cushioned rest. He’d told his friend right after the engagement that he hoped to marry quickly, so John just had to make sure he got in one of the raunchy events he seemed to enjoy hosting.
Now Ethan wasn’t sure there was even going to be a wedding, and he’d have to sit through some sort of tacky event with guys who smelled of beer and cigar smoke and that featured—no doubt—strippers of dubious quality.
Ethan groaned. “Tell me he didn’t get the girls from The Zoo.”
“Uh…which zoo?”
“It’s a strip club. The dancers wear ears and tails and not much else. Take my advice, don’t feed them dollar bills or anything else.”
Another wave of gloom swamped over him, and Ethan shut his eyes. “How much will it take for you to turn around and drive me home?”
“Too late,” Joaquin said. The car slowed, took a turn, and came to a stop. “We’re here.”
Sitting up, Ethan looked out the window. “Where are we?”
They’d turned off a coastal road and into a dusty parking area on the east side of it. To the west was a familiar-looking bluff.
And at the bottom of that bluff was…
He turned his baffled gaze on the men in the front seat. “What are we doing at Crescent Cove?”
“Climb out of the car and discover for yourself,” Joaquin advised, a grin on his face.
“John didn’t rent out one of the beach houses, did he?” Ethan asked, suspicious. “I’m not going to find dancers in seaweed skirts and shell pasties, am I?”
“I don’t actually know…”
Ethan stopped listening as his eye caught on movement across the road. Amongst the chaparral and other indigenous shrubs was the path that led down to the beach. Was that Wells he could see through the scraggly branches?
He jumped out of the car. Surely John wouldn’t allow Ethan’s seven-year-old to attend a bachelor party. Hurrying forward, he shouted “Wells!” over the sound of an oncoming car.
There was only one lane of road in each direction, but it could still be dicey to cross with the traffic speeding by. Heat shimmered over the black asphalt and he squinted, trying to see through the screen of foliage drying in the late summer sun.
Something white fluttered. He had to stand back for another oncoming car. Then it raced by, revealing Wells as it passed. In the wedding shirt and pants they’d recently purchased.
Next to his son, her hand holding his, stood Charlie.
Ethan’s Charlotte.
Wearing clothes in the palest ivory color. The sleeveless top was like something a ballerina might wear, scooped low over her breasts and molding her slender torso. The skirt was layers of gauze that skimmed her ankles to show sandals that looked like the thinnest straps of dark leather wrapped around her pretty toes and arched feet.
She had blue flowers in her unbound hair.
And a smile on her face.
Heart racing, not completely believing what he saw, he took a step toward his family.
The sound of a wailing automobile horn startled him. His head turned to see another oncoming car.
His dream. His fucking bad dream was happening just as his other dream, the beautiful dream, looked like it was about to come true.
Charlie, ready to marry him.
Regret slammed into him before the car, and as that feeling filled him, time slowed. Enough time for Wells to grow up, for Charlie to grow more beautiful, for both the child and the woman to grow old. His eyes would see none of that.
Oh, God.
But they would have each other. Yes. And he trusted them both to live fully and with confidence that they had his love. Forever.
His head turned to take a last look at them—
And hard hands on his elbows jerked him back. He fell to his ass on gritty dirt as the car screamed past, followed by a dusty gust that brought tears to his eyes.
He glanced up at his rescuers, Lucas and Joaquin, trying to slow his slamming heartbeat.
“Thanks aren’t adequate,” he said, clambering to his feet.
“I should say not,” Charlie cried out as she skidded to a stop. She and Wells had made it safely across, and she threw herself into the other men’s arms, peppering them with kisses.
They bore the gratitude exceedingly well, with grins that only widened when Ethan hauled her away and up against his chest.
“What about me?” he demanded.
“I lost about ten years,” she said, her gorgeous blues narrowing. “What were you thinking?”
“That I had to see you. That I had to figure out what little scheme you had going today.”
A smile curved the corners of her delicious mouth. “It’s taken all my organizational know-how.”
“She means she wouldn’t accept the word ‘no,’” Joaquin put in.
Her arms wound around Ethan’s neck. “It’s your wedding day, Mr. Archer. Surprise!”
Wells was at his elbow before he could react. “I didn’t give it away, did I, Dad?”
“No.” He gave a soft cuff to the back of his boy’s head. “Impressive.”
Charlie whispered, “I didn’t tell him until after we left the house.”
He kissed the top of her hair. “Smart thinking.” Then he looked down at Wells. “Can you give us a second, buddy? I need to talk something over with Charlie in private.”
He nodded. “I’m going down to the beach with Lucas and Joaquin, okay?”
“Sure.”
Charlie called after him. “Hold one of their hands crossing the street! Then stick close to Sara once you get there.”
He raised his good arm in acknowledgement, and then Ethan and Charlie were alone. A man and…
“My bride?” he asked, stepping a little away from her.
“If you’ll have me.” There were promises in her eyes and a little mischief, and finally, finally that serene look that had been missing. The look that told him she had faith in the family they would build together and that it would be good for all of them.
That was enough. He could forego those three little words. He surely could. It was just talk, and Charlie was showing him through action. A man could appreciate that.
He stepped close again. “So there’s really a wedding on today’s agenda?”
“There is. Now don’t get excited, since it’s the last minute it had to be small—”
“Thank God.”
“—but I rounded up an actual justice of the peace and found where you’d stashed the marriage license. As soon as you’d like, we can be man and wife.”
“Now,” he said promptly. “Right now.”
One eyebrow winged up. “In your golf clothes? Now currently dirty from your tumble to the ground?”
“I’ll happily marry you naked.”
She grinned. “C’mon. I brought your wedding gear.”
With a careful look in both directions, they crossed the road hand-in-hand. At the trailhead, Ethan paused, his gaze going toward the horizon. The Pacific stretched endlessly to meet the sun that was just beginning its slide over the edge of the world. Limitless possibility, he thought. Unlimited happiness.
They started down the path, and he took in the two-mile curve of beach below, with its funky houses nestled in tropical greenery. The site of his wedding to Charlie.
“Almost paradise,” he said, smiling at her.
At the bottom of the trail, they strolled in the direction of the last cottage. “Beach House Number 9 was still available for the afternoon,” Charlie said, glancing at him.
He stopped, turning her for a lush kiss.
“Are we getting a honeymoon?” he asked against her mouth.
“Maybe when your parents come visit? Until then, I’d like us to cement our little family unit. The three of us.”
His nose went to the flowers in her hair, and he breathed in their scent, knowing he’d recall it forever as the smell of perfect contentment. “We’ll find a way to tell Wells you’re his mother.”
“I’ll be his mother even if we never tell him,” Charlie said.
“I know. But I think he should know what a gift you gave him. Twice.”
Tears brightened her blue eyes. “I don’t want to cry on my wedding day.”
“You never want to cry. But I know you Charlie Emerson. You’ve got a soft heart as big as the ocean.”
She sniffed. “You better marry me before I melt into a puddle at your feet.”
They continued on, to the bluff that pierced the Pacific at the south end of Crescent Cove. Their intended beach house destination stood right below it, and he could see chairs on the deck now, and more flowers, and hear the strains of summer music on the breeze.
Two more steps, and then he saw it. On a flat swathe of sand between the house the water, a proclamation had been inscribed in the sand in letters four feet tall.
CHARLIE EMERSON LOVES ETHAN ARCHER
The single line was surrounded by a heart made of seaweed and decorated with sea shells and sand dollars.
“I love you,” his bride-to-be whispered as he stared at it. “I’m going to get better at saying those words, I promise.”
“Is that right?” he murmured, thinking today’s declaration would be enough. It filled him with satisfaction and delight, and he savored the joy of knowing he’d found his love for this next lifetime.
“It’s scary and untidy, and I won’t always get it right,” Charlie said, “but I’m going to forgive myself for that and keep giving you and Wells my very best.”
He pulled her tight to his side.
“I don’t want to cry on my wedding day,” he said gruffly.
“Let’s do it anyway,” she replied, pressing her face in to his shoulder. “I’ve come to realize that crying and laughing and loving are all important. Necessary. No more hiding anything away. Let’s feel all the feels.”
“Yeah.” He ran his hand down her arm, smiling into her eyes. “I think life’s best that way too. Let’s definitely feel all the feels.”
Yeah, as he’d thought before, this might turn out to be a messy kind of love with its complicated beginning and probably some chaotic future family times too. But living was that way, wasn’t it?
A good, glorious, mess.
“Let’s go.” He started walking again, looking forward to every single moment of it. “I’m more than ready to make promises to you.”