This Is Not How It Ends(28)

“It’s fine,” I said, to neither one of them. “I’ll be fine. I’ve pulled a few recipes. I have cookbooks. The Food Network. There’s no shortage of information on the web.” I found Philip’s eyes and coaxed them not to look away. “I want to learn to cook for you. Don’t you want me to do that for you?”

Ben was caught in our silent standoff. “I’m happy to share some recipes with you,” he said. “Come by the kitchen, and I’ll have them printed out.”

“What a wonderful idea, Charley! You can get a cooking lesson out of Goose here.”

Ben straightened. “Philip, I can provide the recipes and some tips, but—”

“He’s busy,” I added. It was true. His wife was away, and it couldn’t be easy overseeing multiple restaurants and taking care of Jimmy. “Recipes are plenty, Ben . . . Goose . . . whatever your name is. Please don’t make more work for yourself. I’d hate to put you out.”

“It’s no trouble,” he replied. “If there’s something on the menu you’d like to try at home, let me know. Just don’t tempt Philip here to stop coming in.”

Philip snickered. “Impossible.”

I didn’t know if I should be insulted or chalk it up to Philip’s love for Morada Bay. I was sure it was the latter, though I was feeling cross, unmoored. Sunny stood on all fours and paced the beach around us. He felt my restlessness, and my eyes pleaded with Philip to go home, but he didn’t notice.

Resigning myself to play witness to their reunion, I remained silent, fading as the men discussed Philip’s upcoming trip and the restaurants Ben suggested he try. After several yawns, Philip finally suggested we leave. Standing up, he pulled Ben toward him with a kiss to both cheeks.

“Are you okay, Charlotte?” Ben asked.

I shrugged it off. “I’m just feeling tired.”



It was a warm night, and the ocean breeze gusted around us. The road home was less than a mile, and I was stuck in my head. We crossed US 1 and turned onto Old Highway. The Hurricane Memorial was lit up, and I was reminded of the story Liberty had told me, the poor souls who’d lost their lives in 1935.

Philip’s arm came around me. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.”

“Charley.”

“Philip.”

“Strong-minded women. Say what’s on yours, Charley.”

A storm was brewing inside. I didn’t immediately respond.

“Which part are you mad about?” he asked. “Natasha? The wedding? Or something else?”

Sunny pulled me, but Philip’s arm held on tighter. “I won’t let you go. You know that.”

His insistence felt good and made it harder to fight back.

“Charley,” he said again, with the lavish enunciation.

When I spoke, my voice cracked. “It’s hard here without you, Philip. I thought I would be okay with it. I was okay with it. It’s why we worked, why I let you in.”

“I’m sure there were other reasons . . .”

My body tightened. “I’m serious, Philip. It’s not funny. And when you’re here, you seem preoccupied . . . cut off . . . and then you pawn me off on some chef like good food is some consolation prize.”

“That chef is world-renowned . . .”

A tear slid down my face. I gave up trying to conceal it. I was a stranger to these emotions. I didn’t understand the neediness in me. “Is this why you bought me Sunny? I thought it was because I was losing my mom, but maybe it was because you knew . . . you knew I’d be alone. Is that it? Isn’t it hard for you, too?”

“Darling.” He stopped walking and forced me to look at him. Sunny obediently sat, but he was pissed at Philip. I knew this because he wedged himself between us. We were face-to-face, with Sunny panting between our legs. Philip pressed his lips to my forehead and swiped at the tears that lined my cheeks. I breathed him in and let his nearness mollify me. “I love you. And no matter how much I say it, I always love you more than that. And I miss you terribly when we’re apart.” He took my hands into his and kissed them. He left his mark, he always did, and it was useless to battle.

He pulled me into his arms as Sunny began to growl. “Things are tense at work, Charley. I’ve been . . . preoccupied, I know, but there’s reasons. Reasons you’d be fantastically bored with. If I’ve made you unhappy, it was never my intention. This isn’t one of those silly love stories you watch on the telly. This is real life, not merely some thesis we’re trying to prove.” I smiled against him, glad that he remembered. “We can’t be the fairy tale, but might we be something better?”

I nodded and dried my eyes against his shirt. I smelled him in the breeze and wanted to hold the scent in my hands while he was gone. If only it weren’t so fleeting. If only it weren’t so impossible to catch.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t nice to your friend.”

He dropped his arms, and we walked hand in hand.

“Ben Hearst,” he said. “That old chap is going to become your best friend, Charley. You’ll see. Let him teach you things I can’t. And I’ll be the lucky man to reap the rewards.”

I’d already told Ben too much, and I tried to block it out. “What does his wife do?”