You're to Blame(73)

It’s nearly dusk when I get back to the apartment. The living room is dark, and the only source of light comes from my bedroom. Rachel’s room is empty.

Gathering my pajamas, I head into the bathroom and flick on the lights. Surprised, I take a step back and scan the room like I’m not alone, but I am. Unless I count the beautiful dress hanging from the curtain rod.

Come to Murphy’s. Before you talk yourself out of this, remember the way he made you feel.

-Rachel

Dammit.

I trail my fingers over the black lace, while my mind runs through different scenarios I could be walking into. Knowing Rachel, she’s up to something. My heart quickens at the thought Duke could be a part of this.

Instead of thinking too hard, I get ready. For what is the question.

I manage to find a parking space in the packed lot. I adjust the length of my dress and walk through the entrance. Rachel stands just inside, and the entire bar stands still, silent in their places, as I scan the space. My mind blurs as I try to figure out what is happening.

“Care to explain?” I question.

Rachel’s smile is filled with relief. Maybe she didn’t think I would show up.

“You’re still you, and he’s still him. Go be those people together, Charlotte.” Her hand rests on my back, and with her light push, I move forward.





Chapter Twenty





Duke


“Are you sure about this?” Lydia leans against the bar, nursing the same beer she opened an hour ago. She’s been worried for me ever since I crawled to her apartment with my tail tucked between my legs, ready to hear an ‘I told you so’ that never came.

Instead, she got me unnecessarily drunk, made me spill my heart to her and Randy, and cooked me breakfast the next morning when I could hardly lift my head, let alone comprehend how I was going to fix things with Charlotte.

“Quit giving him shit, baby.” Randy kisses Lydia’s temple as he walks by.

“Yeah, baby, quit giving me shit,” I tease, nudging my elbow into hers. “You going to explain when you two shacked up or not?”

“We aren’t shacking up.” Lydia grabs a bottle of rum and two shot glasses. One of the newer bartenders’ eyes her as she pours the drinks. We cheer and swallow the liquid. “I’m in love with him,” she whispers into the glass.

“Oh, I know you are. Just wanted to hear you say it. And just so we’re clear, I’ve never been more positive about anything in my life than I am about Charlotte.” I glance at Rachel standing at the front entrance, waiting to give me a signal.

“What changed it all for you?” Lydia’s eyes soften at the sight of Randy talking with Derks near the stage. “What got you here at the bar, ready to embarrass the shit out of yourself?”

Not quite the encouragement I’m looking for, but I’ll take it.

“A lot of small things got me here, but mostly because, when I’m with her, just in the same room, I’m a better person.”

“I can see the difference in you.” She nods, a distant expression on her face, until she’s pulled back to reality. “The harshness is gone.”

“I’m still me, Lyd.” I smile over my shoulder and turn back to Rachel for my cue.

“Just better.” She moves in front of me. “Don’t fuck this up, okay? She deserves a little bit of honesty and love.”

“Who said anything about love?”

“If I can admit it, then so can you.” Her eyebrow perks up. She’s begging me to challenge her, and when I stay silent, she leaves me alone.

How did I get here? The true answer is I’m not exactly sure, but I’ve never been more at peace in my mind and secure in who I am.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Rachel frantically wave and nod to the stage. That girl is going to have a heart attack if she doesn’t calm down. When I told her my plan, she tried to discourage me. I didn’t heed her warning because, quite frankly, I don’t give a shit what anyone says or thinks about how I feel or what I do to prove it.

As if they know I have business to attend to, the crowd opens a path to the stage.

“Wish me luck.” I place my liquid courage on the table next to Lydia.

“You don’t need it.” She turns in Randy’s arm, and they wait for the show.

The crowd is packed, of course. Why wouldn’t it be one of the busier Tuesdays on record? Did Derks send out a newsletter, for fuck’s sake? I push through the last line of bodies, reminding myself to take deep breaths to control the anxiety brewing inside me.

“I know it’s not Karaoke Thursday,” Derks says, and the crowd roars with excitement. “But we have a special treat for you all tonight. This asshole is going to embarrass himself for a girl.”

I face the crowd and see a mixture of responses. The guys look unamused, while every female looks at me with lust-filled eyes, secretly wishing it was their men doing what I am.

The only one who matters steps through the door in all her beautiful glory. She and Rachel speak for a short moment, and my eyes track Charlotte’s long legs as she works her way through the horde of bodies. On command, she spins on her heels when the music starts to play through the speakers.

Our eyes lock, and the entire world disappears. This should be no surprise. It’s how it’s always been for me when it comes to Charlotte. A girl like her has this way of making the impossible seem easy.