You're to Blame(53)

“Why don’t you seem upset about whatever this is with Charlotte?” I call out to her.

She spins, assessing me. What she sees is a man on the verge of exploding from all these new, uncertain feelings. What she sees is someone being honest with himself for the first time, and maybe, just maybe this time, he may have been wrong about letting people in.

“Why don’t you tell me what this is, and I’ll give you an answer.” Her mischievous smile says it all. She’s rooting for me.

From the moment, Charlotte curled her lip at me at the bar until now, everything has tilted on its axis. I don’t know what I’m doing, and I know it’s not ideal, but when we are together, it’s right. When she touches me, it’s damn near perfection and something I’m not willing to let go of yet.

Rachel unlocks her doors and glances at me over her shoulder.

I call out to her, “I won’t apologize for feeling the way I do.”

“One thing you don’t know is how badly Charlotte needs someone to unapologetically adore her.”

“What about Jacob?” His name feels like a million needles poking at my spine.

She raises an eyebrow and waves. “Like I said, unapologetically.”

Rachel gets behind the wheel, pulls out of her space, and drives away, leaving me with a complete mind fuck from her words.

*****

“Just a little bit further.” I encourage Charlotte, placing a hand on her back as we make our way up the last large hill. “Not much farther.”

“Why did you take me up hills? I told you I don’t run, Duke,” she pants. “Are you trying to kill me?”

I slow my pace, and Charlotte adjusts her strides to match mine. When I come to a complete stop, she nearly collides into me. Sweat beads on her forehead, and her hair is in complete disarray, but damn, she’s beautiful.

“This is why.” I push the overgrown trees to the side, revealing what was my favorite view until I saw Charlotte quivering beneath me last night.

Charlotte’s jaw goes slack. A twinkle appears in her irises and grows brighter with every step she takes inside my sanctuary. This is my hideaway when I need a minute to myself, my quiet space when the rest of the world is too loud, and now, I’m sharing it with her. I’m sharing it with her. The reality isn’t lost on me.

“What is this?” Charlotte runs her fingers along the cement walls. They’re splattered with what the rest of the world knows as graffiti, but I appreciate as art.

“I suppose it used to be a skate park, of some sort. No one uses it for that, except maybe some kids every once in a while. Most days it’s empty, so I can only assume whoever does this” —I trace the words scrolled in front of us— “does it at night.”

“And then the wind brushed through her hair and blew away our memories,” Charlotte reads the words written in bright pink spray paint. Shock riddles her face. “Why do you come here? I mean of all the places to run, why here?” Charlotte’s hands spread wide in question.

“These words are delicately chosen. You can sense their truth and, perhaps, their lies, but something never fades away. The beauty of someone else’s observation of the world.” She runs her hand over the large letters spelling out L-O-V-E as I speak. “The way they see it is different than anyone else.”

“You aren’t who you pretend to be.” Charlotte steps to me. “This version of you standing in front of me is nothing like the guy everyone else knows.”

“I don’t know.” I gulp down breaths to stay quiet. She’s so sure of who she thinks I am, I can’t imagine disappointing her.

Charlotte’s excited expression takes in every word spray painted in front of us. Minutes pass as she soaks it all in. “Which one is your favorite?” She’s genuine and refreshing as hell. I’ve never known anyone worthy of sharing this place until her.

I smile at her question and wave to the far corner. Charlotte walks behind me, but as I stop, she comes to my side.

“Dr. Seuss?” Charlotte giggles, tucking her arm through mine and resting that beautiful face of hers against my bicep. She moves around me like we’re old friends, familiar and genuine.

“It’s the only book I ever remember my mom reading to me.” I back away and catch Charlotte’s eyes dancing from the quote to me. Maybe she’s right. I am different with her than I am with everyone else. I want her to savor me and come back for seconds. I’m desperate for her approval and understanding.

“This is your contribution to this beautiful mess.” Charlotte doesn’t say anything else. A simple acknowledgement of what I’ve written is enough for both of us. A tingle dances down my arm. Her hand finds mine, and we silently walk back. Everything is too heavy on my shoulders to run.





Chapter Fifteen





Charlotte


“Hi, I’m here to see Mr. St. James,” I say to the front desk attendant. She’s friendly and stylish, something I immediately noticed of every employee when I walked through the glass doors.

“Yes, you must be Ms. Novak.” The receptionist stands and circles to the front of the desk. “Please, come this way.” I follow her up the floating steps to the top level, admiring the floor-to-ceiling glass panels. “You can wait right here.” She gestures to a leather couch and leaves me to make myself comfortable.