Dr. Merrick stepped out of the curtained area as Jake returned.
“How is she, doc?”
“Ms. Jones passed the cognitive and neurological exams with flying colors. But we still need to schedule a CT scan, so we’re going to keep her a few more hours.”
How in the hell did I get into this mess? “Thanks for taking care of my . . . of Charlotte.”
The doctor clapped his back. “My pleasure. Oh, and my dad is a huge fan. Would you mind signing this?” Dr. Merrick patted his shirt and pant pocket and then pulled out a small piece of white paper.
“Sure.” Jake obliged and handed the signed paper and pen back to the doctor.
“Thanks again, Jake. I’ll stop by again to check on her. See you later.”
Jake waved and then took a deep breath as he gripped the curtain. Here goes nothing. “Charlotte, it’s Jake. Can I come in?”
“Come in.”
He swung open the off-white screen. She was propped against a pillow, and her bed was now L-shaped.
“How are you feeling?” He returned to his seat by the bed.
She ran her hands through her long, dark tresses. “I feel like I cracked my skull open and scrambled some things around. Other than that, I’m all right.” She shrugged and chuckled. “Definitely not one of my finest moments.”
“Seemed like more than a moment.” He leaned forward. “You’re not taking care of yourself.”
“I—”
“I don’t understand why you’re killing yourself to lose weight.” He shook his head. He would never understand why women tortured themselves to look a certain way.
Her mouth dropped open, and then her eyes narrowed. Turning her head, she mumbled something under her breath.
“What was that?” he asked.
She turned her head to look at him. Her sweet face morphed into a confused frown. “I said you’re one to talk. All you date are rail-thin supermodels.”
“No, I—”
“Yes, you do. Your past four or five women you’ve been seen with more than once have been models. Oh, and one actress. Well, she was a model turned actress, so . . . yeah.”
Irritation buzzed like mosquitos. He was tired of explaining his lifestyle and he damn sure wasn’t in the mood to have the conversation again. “Apparently I had a fling with a flight attendant and barista,” he said, recalling the women Gina had mentioned earlier.
“Both were aspiring models, and they snagged pretty good contracts after they name-dropped you.” She cocked her head and squinted her eyes. “Don’t you talk to the women you date?”
“I don’t date. I fuck.”
Charlotte clutched her collarbone and gasped better than a scandalized eighteenth century society lady.
You need her to agree to this, not hate you. “Look. It’s not about me. It’s about you. Take care of yourself. If you want to lose weight and keep it off, you need to do it the right way.”
“Like you would understand.”
“I do, Charlotte. I was overweight well into my teens. My parents encouraged me to play a sport, and I chose baseball. Seemed like less running, especially as a pitcher.”
A lifetime ago, he was the nerdy, overweight, awkward kid hosting Magic: The Gathering tournaments and reading comic books. But he also remembered the looks of concern from his well-meaning parents, grandparents, aunts, and uncles about his weight . . . The taunts from neighborhood kid and classmates . . . The dread in the pit of his stomach when gym class involved running a timed mile, and he knew he would never finish.
The flashback jarred his confidence, pulling him back to a time when he was quite the unassuming wallflower. A time when neither the girls nor the cool kids would give him the time of day. A time when he was the fat, stuttering kid with thick, coke bottle glasses.
Jake broke through the murky surface of his mind’s eye and took a deep breath. Relaxing his tense body, he pushed his chair closer to the bed. He didn’t know her story, but if she’d grown up overweight, poking at her mistakes wouldn’t help.
“Look, I’m sorry. I’m not trying to lecture you. I just know from experience . . . this takes time. Losing weight is a process. Be kind and patient with your body, and you’ll hit your goal.”
Charlotte nodded. “It’s okay. And thank you for, you know . . . taking care of me. Why are you here, by the way? Why did Dr. Merrick call you my boyfriend?”
“I kind of lied to one of the EMTs. I wanted to make sure you were okay, and I knew they wouldn’t let me stay with you if I told them the truth.”
Charlotte’s brown cheeks splashed pink. “Well, thanks again. I owe you one.”
Jake’s heart sped at the perfect opening. “Well, there is a way you can pay me back. That is, if you’re willing to help me.”
“Anything, Jake.” Her pretty brown eyes glittered, seeming eager to please.
“Right. The thing is, when I told the EMT you were my girlfriend, someone must have spilled the beans to the media. Now there’s a rumor going on that we’re an item.” He swallowed, waiting for her to digest the first bit of news.
“Oh, okay.” She looked down at her clasped hands. “So you want me to go on record and say we aren’t together?” Her voice was tender and shaky, and it moved something in his heart.
He sighed. “The opposite, actually. I need you to tell them we’re together.”
“What?” Her eyes and mouth popped open.
“I need you to pretend you’re my girlfriend. You see, I have this rep of being a player—”
“No kidding.” Her mouth twisted into a mischievous smile.
Jake laughed. “Totally unfounded.”
“Totally,” she agreed.
“Yeah, well, I have a major deal on the line with Threx. Their brand is family-focused, and they’re really particular about who represents them. If I screw up in the press again, then they aren’t going to sign the deal . . . a multimillion-dollar deal.”
She whistled. “That’s nothing to sneeze at.”
“No, it’s not.” He shook his head. “So would you be willing to help me? I know it’s an inconvenience, but I’ll compensate you for your time.”
Her nose scrunched. “I don’t know . . . ” She looked down at her lap. “I don’t want to be the butt of anyone’s joke,” she whispered.
“Joke? Why would people joke about us?”
“Take a wild guess, Jake, but I think we covered it. You just got caught with your junk out next to a model and actress. And I’m . . . just me.”
Is she insane? Does she not realize that every guy drools after her at the center?
“Charlotte, I know I have a rep, and it’s well-earned, but . . . you’ve got to know you’re gorgeous.”
She rolled her eyes. “You don’t have to lie or kiss my butt to get me to agree to help you. I know I’m not butt ugly, but compared to those women . . . ” She sighed. “I just don’t know. I don’t want people to stare and judge and compare me to the others.”
“Charlotte, I don’t know what to say . . . all I can tell you is to look in a freaking mirror. Haven’t other men given you compliments?”
“Cat-calling on the street.” She shrugged. “I don’t date much. I’m busy between the center and my volunteer work at church.”
“Well, on behalf of mankind, I apologize. You really are something else, and I’m not blowing smoke up your ass. It’s just that . . . ” He stopped himself. Now wasn’t the time to give advice or have heart-to-hearts.
“What is it?” She leaned closer as if he held the key to her lack of dates.
“You . . . okay, don’t get me wrong, but you give off this vibe that you want a husband, three-point-five kids, and a nice house with a white picket fence.”
She jerked and leaned away. “Yeah. And?” Her tone was defensive. “Most people want that.”
Jake bobbed his head. “Yeah, but you seem to want it right away. Any guy that steps to you knows that he has to have his shit together. And spoiler alert, a lot of men, especially in their twenties, don’t have their shit together.”
She shook her head. “Not true. I just want to date around, get to know someone, and yes, I’d like to date a guy who knows what he wants and doesn’t play games.” She sighed. “Is . . . is that really what you thought when you met me? We barely discussed anything outside of your career.”
Yes. “I plead the fifth.”
“Whatever.” She crossed her arms across her chest. “It’s not like you know me anyway.”
“You’re right, I don’t, and I apologize for being judgmental. But you do seem like a nice woman, and I could really use your help.”
Charlotte nibbled her lip and sighed. “I’ll help you, Jake. But I don’t want your money. It makes me feel like I’m prostituting myself.”
“I’m not trying to buy you, Charlotte. But dealing with the paparazzi can be tough. It’s not like the nice media you deal with at Refurbished Dreams. You’ll be under a microscope, and then you’ll have to spend a lot of time with me to convince everyone we’re together.” He squeezed her hand. “C’mon, there has to be something I can do.”
Charlotte shook her head, her eyes resolved. “There’s nothing I need. I have a great job. Great friends. I’m not rich, but I’m comfortable. I would tell you to give money to Refurbished Dreams, but we both know you’re already donating a large sum this year.”
Jake sighed. He didn’t like owing someone. There had to be something she wanted. I can help her with fitness.
“I’ve got it! I’ll help you lose weight . . . the right way.”
Charlotte shook her head. “That doesn’t seem like a good idea at all.”
“Why not?” he quickly fired back. “Off-season is in a few months, and I’ve got the time. I know all about health and fitness, and I can teach you how to cook—”
“Look at me.” She waved her hands over her body. “I know how to cook.”
“I was going to say cook healthy and delicious meals, not boring cabbage soup and plain kale salads. Just . . . just let me do this. I can guarantee you’ll hit your goal.” He clapped his hand on his thighs, excited about the idea. This would count as payback for her “girlfriend” time. “What is your goal weight?”
“I don’t know.”
“Yes, you do. I’m your trainer. You have to tell me the truth about this stuff.”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “I didn’t agree to you being my trainer.”
“You’re gonna say yes. Now, how much?”
“Fifty?” Her voice squeaked.
He scanned her body. She could stand to lose twenty-five, maybe thirty. Fifty pounds would put her in the same category as the rail-thin models she’d accused him of dating. It would be a crying shame if she lost all those luscious curves.
He nodded. He knew women well enough to know that he couldn’t argue about weight loss. He’d just make damn sure to stop her at twenty-five pounds.
“All right. We’ll start next Monday. I’ll come by your place, take a look at your fridge, and figure out what supplies we’ll need. Seems like you have the cardio thing down pat, but we’ll need to add weights.”
“I don’t want to lift weights and get bulky.”
“You won’t. Trust me, if you add weights to your routine, you’ll drop the weight and keep your muscles.”
Charlotte nodded as if she were hyping herself up. “Fine. We have a deal. I’ll be your . . . your girlfriend, and you’ll be my trainer. But . . . I have one request.”
“Anything.” He cleared his throat. “I mean, you’re helping me after all.”
She nodded. “While we’re together, I mean for pretend, of course, I want you to be faithful. I don’t want you to embarrass me if you decide to have sex with another woman.”
“Of course. I’d never embarrass you like that. I have a request too.”
She waved her hand. “Ask.”
“Let’s keep this to ourselves. No telling friends or family. People mean well, but I don’t want this to leak. Oh, and no falling for each other.”
Charlotte snorted. “I’ve had my experience with a bad boy, and I’m not looking for another broken heart. So . . . deal.”
Was that the dude that didn’t give her an orgasm? Not your business, Ross. Jake offered his hand to seal the deal.
Her small, warm hand clasped his. “Okay, then I guess we can be officially fake boyfriend and girlfriend then.” Her soft voice caressed his skin.
“Charlotte!” Melanie and Damien rushed in, followed by Nathan and Tiana. The Get Well Soon balloon in Melanie’s hand scraped the ceiling.
“Girl, you scared us half to death!” Melanie wrapped the balloon around a chair.
Tiana rushed to her other side. “We brought your phone and purse from the center.”
“Thanks, Tiana.” Charlotte smiled at her friend, fluffing the pillow behind her head.
“Well . . . don’t thank us yet,” Melanie sat in the empty chair on the opposite side of Jake.
“Someone may have called your mom and told her what happened.”
“What?” Charlotte yelled and immediately winced, grabbing her head.
Damien squared his shoulders. “Yes. I did it. As your boss, it’s my responsibility to contact your next of kin in the case of an emergency. You cracking your skull against the floor is deemed as such. She wants you to call her back ASAP.”
• • •
Charlotte stared at the phone screen. Do it. Call Mama. The last time she’d spoken to her mother . . . Charlotte sighed. Harsh words had been exchanged at Big Mama’s funeral. When a well-wisher from their old church had dropped off a pecan pie and offered Charlotte a slice, her mother had interrupted.
“Charlotte doesn’t need all that sugar.” Her mother grabbed the plate from Charlotte’s hands.
She handed the plate to Charlotte’s sister. “Put that up for me, Prissy.”
Prissy grabbed the plate and whispered to Charlotte, “Slow down, sis.” She had the audacity to look concerned before she flounced away in her size zero black dress.
Irritated and embarrassed, Charlotte pulled her mother to the side. “Why did you have to do that? You took the pie away like I have some weird addiction to food.”
Her mother looked confused. “I’m scared for you, baby. Big Mama just died because she couldn’t control her sugar and food portions. She struggled, sweetie. And you’ve been eating all weekend—”
“What?” Charlotte interrupted. “No, I haven’t.” She had, embarrassingly so, but she was heartbroken.
“Yes, you have. Charlie, we’re all upset about Big Mama, but you don’t need to process your feelings through food.” Her mom gave her a pitying look. “Big Mama wouldn’t want that from you. She’d want you to be healthy.”
“Don’t you dare put words into Big Mama’s mouth. She’d want me to be happy, and she darn sure wouldn’t snatch anything from me like I’m a toddler who doesn’t know how to care for themselves. I’m sick to death of you and Prissy and Daddy always getting on my back about my weight. Yes, I may be eating a bit more, but Big Mama just died!”
“Charlie, baby—”
“I’m out of here.” She hurried to her room and grabbed her already packed bag.
Since the funeral, Mama and Prissy had called more than a dozen times. Prissy had sent the last message, calling her selfish and a coward. Whatever. She’s the queen of being selfish.
Prissy was three years older, and had pretended Charlotte hadn’t existed while they were in school. She’d always kicked her out of her room, calling her a pathetic nerd.
Charlotte swallowed down her bitter memories and called her mom.
Her mother answered after one ring. “Charlotte! Are you okay? Your boss told me you cracked your head wide open.”
She exhaled at the exaggeration. She was sure her boss hadn’t said those words. “I’m fine, Mama. Just hit my head, no concussion or anything. I’m in perfect health.”
“Are you now?” Her mother’s voice ended on a high pitch. “Maybe you should come home, since you’re so healthy and all.”
“Well I have work . . . things are busy. And plus, I have a boyfriend and—”
“A boyfriend? Vance! Charlotte has a boyfriend,” her mother yelled at her father.
“Yes, Mama. Is that such a big deal?”
“You’ve never brought a young man home. So yes, it’s a big deal. But anyway, tell us about him.”
“Well . . . he’s famous.”
“F-famous?” she squeaked in an excited voice. “Who is he?”
“Jake Ross.”
“That ball player?” Her voice dripped with disdain. “The man caught on camera having sex with those two women?”
“Yes, the one and only.” Charlotte kept her voice light. “But he’s changed. Under all that . . . bluster, he’s a good man.”
“Honey, do you think being in a relationship with someone like him is a good idea?”
“Why not?”
“I mean, is it a good match? You’re not his usual type of . . . of woman.”
Thin, gorgeous. Got it. “So you think I’m not good enough for him? Wow, thanks, Mom.”
“Now wait a minute, Charlotte. I didn’t mean it like that. I’d . . . I’d like to meet him. Get to know him to make sure. I mean you guys really don’t seem to match well; you’re different.”
“Different?” Charlotte sighed. “You know what, I knew this was a bad idea. I’ll talk to you later.”
“Charlotte, listen to me, baby. H-he just seems like the type of man that—”
“Jake and I are together. I know that doesn’t match up in your ideal world of perfection, b-but we care about each other.” She usually hated to lie, but for some reason, she wanted to pretend. To pretend Jake liked the way she looked, that he’d looked across the room and saw her, and she took his breath away. That she was the woman of his dreams.
“If anyone calls to ask about Jake or me say ‘no comment.’ And please don’t tell them about how I’m such a disappointment to you. Bye, Mama.” She clicked off before her mother broke her heart again.