This Is Not How It Ends(62)

I forgot that I was engaged to someone else.

I forgot that I was a cheater.

I forgot everything else but this person who completed me and made me less alone.

Tomorrow, tomorrow I was telling Philip we were over.





CHAPTER 27

September 2018

I woke up in a state of groggy confusion. My arm hurt, and when I rolled over, I saw Ben there beside me, and everything became clear. His face in peaceful sleep relieved me of any doubt. I remembered how he loved me, the way his body had moved into mine, and how two halves had become whole.

Tickling his lips, then his chin and cheeks, I touched him until he stirred awake, and we faced each other. His palm stroked my skin, and I felt myself coming alive. The pervasive quiet meant the storm had passed. The only sounds were his breaths letting me know what it meant to be beside me.

Settling me in his arms, he kissed the top of my head. Sunny popped up, hoping to join us on the bed. His tail wagged, and I wondered if he understood.

A dusty gold rippled off the water. The light slowly crept across the room, and I caught Ben’s face. There was a calmness that wasn’t there the day before, as though a door had opened, and warmth flooded in.

“What are you thinking?” I asked.

“I’m thinking about you. I’m thinking about Philip. I’m thinking about what this will do to all of us.”

Explaining how those words made me feel was impossible. I tried not to compare the two men I thought I loved, but their differences were striking. I could blame Philip for not slowing down, for closing me out, but it was me who had changed. I must’ve looked troubled, because Ben asked, “Are you sorry?”

“I’m not. I love him. For all the reasons we first fell for each other, but we haven’t been on the same page in a while. I always thought we wanted similar things, but I’m not sure we do.” It was hard to believe I was discussing Philip’s and my relationship like this. “Are you?” I asked. “Are you sorry?”

“I never meant to hurt either one of them,” he said, referring to both Philip and Claudia.

“It’s not your fault,” I said, wiping leftover sleep from his eyes. “Last night was my doing.”

“I had a hand in it . . . or two . . .”

I felt strangely free even though I had a well to dig through. This would crush Philip. I was contemplating our issues, and there were big ones: the subject of kids, his emotional absence. Even though he’d promised he’d slow down, would he grow to resent me? Was it really what he wanted? I hated that I would cause him pain, but he hadn’t thought of mine.

Ben rubbed his hands over my belly and teased me with his lips.

I reached for my phone and turned it on. Immediately it rang, and the sound startled me. Ben backed down. Beautiful Ben. His body was magical. His eyes a spell I fell quickly under.

“Hello?” It was a number I didn’t recognize.

“Is this Mrs. Stafford?”

I cleared my throat. “This is Charlotte Myers.”

“Philip Stafford’s wife?”

I sat up. “I’m his girlfriend . . . his fiancée . . .” A surge of fear snaked down my body. “Who is this?” I glanced at my phone, and a dozen messages lit the screen.

“My name is Regina Watson. I’m calling from Mount Sinai Medical Center. We’ve been trying to reach you, but it seems there are outages from the storm in your area. Your fiancé was brought in last night.”

Philip was here. In Miami?

The room began to spin, and when I reached for something to steady me, it was Ben’s arm, which made the stirring worse. I was sucked into a vortex of impending doom—something worse than any hurricane.

The fear rose in my throat and came out as a croak. “I don’t understand. Philip’s in Houston . . . What’s happened to Philip?”





CHAPTER 28

September 2018

I distanced myself from Ben and tossed the phone aside. Sheets tangled my legs, and it was an effort to disengage. He tugged at the twisted fabric and kicked it to the floor. His body was bare and beautiful; I couldn’t look.

“Charley, what’s wrong with Philip?”

I was leaning over the bed, reaching with my good arm for my underwear, my T-shirt, my sweats. My fingers trembled, one by one, as I tried to get dressed. My chest was heavy with worry, sinking in self-loathing. I thought I might throw up. “Charley?”

“I don’t know.” My voice was low and broken. He was watching me as I threw his clothes at him, all the feelings left to puddle around us. “Please, please get dressed.”

“Tell me what’s going on,” he said, his voice echoing my worry.

It occurred to me that I was miles from the hospital. I had no idea of the condition of the roads, or how Philip had made it in last night. I told him not to take a chance. I told him to stay put.

“Charley . . .”

My voice wavered, and tears flooded my eyes. Once I started, I couldn’t stop. “He flew here last night. I didn’t know this because my father . . . Oh God . . . I shut my phone off so I didn’t have to . . . They were trying to reach me . . .” My hands covered my face, and I hid my shame. “We were together while Philip was collapsing on the tarmac.”

The ringing of the phone dispelled the painful admission, and I saw it was Elise. “Charlotte, Meghan and I have been trying to reach you for hours. Did you know Philip flew in last night? They chartered a plane. They got lucky . . .” Lucky.