Charlotte Michaels took a deep breath before walking into the office after her three week “vacation.” If she acted like her time off was no big deal, maybe everyone else would, too. Technically, some of it had been a vacation. She did go to Paris as planned—by herself, of course. Then she called in to work asking for another week of personal time. And then one more. But three weeks wasn’t enough time to get over her divorce even if she was moved out of Sean’s apartment and into her own new place.
Maybe no one knew they’d split up. Maybe Jillian kept the news to herself like Charlotte had asked. Right. A stranded baby dolphin had a better chance at survival in the office fish tank than a secret. It was probably as secret as Joy and Tom’s fling had been.
After standing in the hallway for a few moments wondering where her courage had gone, she mumbled, “Screw it,” and went inside.
Half the office was huddled around the semi-circular reception desk watching something online. They all looked up when she walked in, like a pack of cats following a red dot on the wall. There was a good chance that’s what they were watching. The new receptionist, Lizzy, loved her kitten videos and often dragged people over to share in the joy. It didn’t take much to amuse her co-workers—or pull them away from their work. Although it was more likely someone had uploaded the latest office prank onto the web and they were checking the comments on YouTube. One of their videos had hit over one million views. It was a mock-ad of a frightening stuffed bear that had been uploaded by mistake. At first the clients had been horrified, but then it went viral and people were buying the toy as a joke for their friends, not for their kids. What was the slogan again? “Dandy Bear. For the kid you don’t like best.”
“Charlotte! Welcome back.” Jenny hurried from behind the desk to hug her.
Charlotte returned the hug and detected the slightest pause from Jenny; she was probably weighing her next words. “Did you enjoy zee French fries in France? Were zay better zare?” Jenny asked.
That got a good laugh from everybody. Leave it to Jenny to lighten the mood.. Charlotte was grateful. A joke was better than pity.
“Couldn’t find any. I had a lot of cheese, though.”
And then dead silence from the rest of them. Which was uncomfortable but better than the next question from Shelby. “If a honeymoon is a trip for the beginning of the marriage, was this a trip for the end of it? Is that a thing? If not, you should claim it and name it. A bittermoon? A bummermoon? You could start a blog and become an expert for women who get married and divorced in less than a year. I don’t think anyone has branded that market yet. Maybe you could get a book deal.” She nodded encouragingly, as if she were being helpful.
Shelby was born without the filter that kept most people from saying what everybody else was thinking. It was hard to be mad at her, because she wasn’t being mean-spirited. She just couldn’t help herself.
“Shelby!” their boss, Jillian scolded. “None of us knows why Charlotte got divorced. Could be gambling or hidden debt. A secret baby. Ooh, a pornography addiction?” she whispered. “Did he go on a sex vacation without you?”
Charlotte stood frozen. Then she noticed the goldfish floating belly up in the tank across from the reception desk. Fitting, she thought.
Jillian frowned when she didn’t get a response. “Or maybe not. Maybe she thinks the divorce was a good thing, not a bummer. All three of my splits were great news.” Jillian smiled and paused as if waiting on an explanation for Charlotte’s quick divorce. “But truly, branding yourself as a divorce expert is a fabulous idea. You could hire us to help with the campaign.”
“That’s an idea,” Charlotte said, because she hoped to be reminded for the rest of her life what a failure she was at love. Her eyes stung, but she would not cry at work. She would not cry over Sean. Even though now she knew he’d cheated on her even before they were married, she wasn’t sad. She was mad—mad that she married the wrong guy in the first place when Mr. Right was here in the office.
She tried not to look at Tristan, but she caught a glimpse of him standing with the group. It was hard to miss his bright blond hair and smirky smile. The man looked like he was always brewing a joke in his head. He was rarely part of the office prank patrol, although he always seemed to be amused by the jokes, and as the head of IT often cleaned up their messes when their pranks involved computers.
Charlotte glanced around at everyone staring at her and gulped. “I feel like I should’ve brought croissants or something. I’m sorry.”
“You could still bring them in tomorrow,” Shelby said. “With some strawberry jam, please. Oh, and since everyone was talking about it before you came in, I’ll go ahead and ask. Are couples obligated to return wedding gifts if they don’t make it through the first year?”
That brought on a round of groans. A few paper balls sailed toward Shelby. “What? I got her a very nice blender we could use here during in-house happy hours.”
People stopped grumbling, no doubt evaluating the potential for that addition to the office kitchen.
“And I will take my Waterford decanter right off your hands if it brings back bad memories,” Jillian said soothingly. “Maybe I could regift it to my cousin when she gets around to marrying Tristan.”
So they’re still together. As if that would’ve changed in three weeks. Charlotte had to hold her breath to keep back the tears—or a scream. One or the other was on its way out. Luckily, a fake smile came easy to her and she grinned politely. “I’ll see what I have when I unpack the moving boxes. I was in a bit of a rush at the time.”
“Will you be returning monetary gifts?” someone asked, followed by a painful sounding, “Ow!”
She wanted desperately to get to her desk, but everyone had crowded around her, faces screwed into expressions that told her they wanted to say something but didn’t know the right words to use. They were probably debating whether to be kind, to be funny like Jenny had been, or better yet, to just keep quiet.
“I suppose you all had a pool going on determining how soon we’d get divorced,” Charlotte said, hoping to break the tension with some humor of her own.
A bunch of people said things like, “No way,” and “Of course not.”
“That would’ve been a good idea,” Shelby said. “But most of us placed bets the week before your wedding on whether or not it was going to be called off. I won ten bucks. I had faith in you once I saw the dress you’d chosen. I knew there was no way you were going to let that gorgeous thing go to waste.”
Jenny grabbed Shelby by the arm. “Don’t you have to stuff a bag of marshmallows in your mouth or something?” She pulled away a protesting Shelby, while the rest of the group returned to their desks. Lizzy hurried to the phone, undoubtedly to get someone to replace the goldfish before Jillian realized her beloved pet was dead, leaving Charlotte alone with Tristan.
The sight of him hit her in the gut. He’d been hers once. And she’d been so devastated by their breakup, she ran into the arms of the wrong guy.
“You okay?” he asked quietly, his soft blue eyes fixed on hers.
She forced a big smile. “Oh, sure. I’ll be fine.”
They stared at each other for a few moments. Her fingers itched, remembering the feel of his skin, the curve of his muscles. He was a tall, lean guy, but very well built. She could remember the way she’d disappear into his hugs feeling safe and warm. She gulped and bit her bottom lip to keep it from retracing the memory of a kiss. Tristan had been an excellent kisser—his scruffy little beard had always left her skin tingling afterward.
But he’d also been kind and funny, and so devoted to her. They’d spent almost all their time together. After only five months, she’d thought he might be the one. But there must’ve been something missing between them, because he told her he wanted to take a break.
Which is nice-guy speak for “I don’t want to see you anymore.”
“Let’s talk,” Tristan said.
“Okay.” She followed him into his office, grateful for the moment of privacy she wouldn’t have at her cubicle. Sitting down, her eyes went right to a picture of Tristan and his girlfriend, Monique, at the beach. She’d probably insisted on having that picture taken to show off her perfect body in her tiny white bikini. She probably even printed the damn thing out and insisted he keep it on his desk.
Charlotte wanted to ask how things were with Monique, but that seemed way too pathetic and obvious. Besides, Tristan had broken up with Charlotte two years ago. Why would he want her now?
***
Charlotte sat across from Tristan in his office. He thought about closing the door, but that would only get people talking more. He’d heard people speculating whether or not they’d get back together. Probably a few bets had been made, too. His chest was tight as he watched Charlotte doing her best to hold herself together. He wanted to reach out and squeeze her hand, hold her tightly in his arms. She was so beautiful, so wonderful. She didn’t deserve the agony she was clearly feeling. He wanted to make her sadness go away.
He could’ve prevented this. He should’ve told her how he felt before she married someone else. Breaking up with her had been a mistake, but by the time he was ready to admit that, she was with someone else. And when he finally had the courage to say something, it was too late. If not for that damn traffic jam, he would’ve made it to the church earlier and begged her to call it off. Instead, he arrived just in time to watch the groom kiss the bride, so he snagged a seat in back. She never knew he’d been moments away from shouting, “Stop the wedding!”
Would it even have mattered?
Now here they were, inches apart, but their hearts miles away. It wasn’t supposed to have turned out this way. Back when he’d told her they should take a break for a while, he’d meant it. He needed time for his mother in the wake of his father’s death. She’d been depressed and required his full attention. She wasn’t cooking for herself, and sometimes she didn’t get out of bed until Tristan pleaded with her that Dad wouldn’t want to see her like that. At the time, he didn’t know if he could pull her out of her funk. He’d even considered placing her in a mental health facility.
Tristan hadn’t wanted to embroil Charlotte in all that. It was too soon in their relationship. And he didn’t want to betray his mother’s privacy as she worked her way through her own personal hell. His plan all along was to get back together with Charlotte once she could be his priority.
He’d never imagined that six months later she’d agree to marry some other guy. Stupidly, he’d assumed she’d still be available. But maybe Tristan hadn’t meant that much to Charlotte after all.
“I’m very sorry things didn’t work out with you and Sean,” he said.
“You are?” Her face was pale against her long, chestnut hair. She blinked at him, looking like a sad doll.
He felt like saying, “Hell, no, I’m happy because maybe I’ll have another shot with you.” But he was sorry she’d gone through so much pain. So he nodded. “At least you found out sooner than later.”
“True. I only wasted two years of my life with him.” She looked up at the ceiling. “I feel so foolish. So stupid. I knew it was a mistake to marry him, but I did it anyway.”
“You did?” He wasn’t expecting that.
“Yeah. It’s very easy to get caught up in all the wedding details and forget about the marriage itself and whether it’s really what you want. There had been so many clues he’d been cheating on me, but I ignored them all. And I suppose he was just happy to find someone willing to overlook all his flaws.”
“If you knew it was a mistake, why did you say yes?” he couldn’t resist asking.
She rubbed the spot on her finger where her wedding ring had been. “That’s a question I haven’t been able to answer.”
They sat together in a silence that felt as if it could swallow them whole. “It’ll be better next time. You’ll know what to look for. You’ll find the right guy for the job.” Tristan’s heart pounded.
She rolled her eyes. “I’m not looking to hire. I doubt there will be a second time.”
“Oh.” That sounded like a strong hint to back off.
She picked up the picture of him and Monique. “And how are you two doing?”
He paused because he wasn’t sure what the truth was. He wasn’t crazy about Monique, but he did care about her. While she was fun, he certainly didn’t see himself marrying her. He didn’t think Monique wanted that either. Jillian did, but probably only because she wanted to plan a wedding. So why are you still with her? Because she’s your boss’s cousin? He shuddered to think of what Jillian would do if he dumped Monique. It was easier to stay with her than to end things. If he was being honest, Monique had been a way to divert attention from his broken heart. He didn’t love her. “We’re okay,” he told Charlotte.
“I’m glad to hear it.”
They sat there quietly, Tristan desperate for the right words to tell Charlotte he still loved her. The thought stunned him, but it was true, wasn’t it? He’d never stopped loving her. But that was too much too soon. She was hurting and needed time to heal. He wouldn’t want her to rush back to him thinking he could mend her heart. He wanted her to be with him because she loved him, too, not because she needed a distraction. Like Monique was his distraction. But who knew if Charlotte even wanted him back?
He noticed Charlotte staring at the heart-shaped rock on his desk that they’d found during a trip to the Cape. One sunny summer’s day she’d spotted it as the retreating tide sucked away the sand from the bright white stone. She’d scooped it up, held it in her palm for a moment, and then given it to him without a word.
“I still have your heart,” he said, watching her.
She looked up. “You do.”
Neither of them said anything else. Charlotte stood. “I feel better. Thanks for giving me a moment in here.”
“Anytime,” Tristan said. “If you need anything, let me know.”
He watched her walk to her desk and he swallowed hard. Charlotte’s divorce could change everything in his world. But it was up to him to make the next move. And he wasn’t sure what that should be.
***
Charlotte sat at her desk and listened to the dozens of voice mails that had been left while she was gone. She had a hard time concentrating and had to listen to them twice. She’d probably spend the rest of the day catching up on correspondence. Getting back to the office was a good idea, though. She could lose herself in her work and eventually return to her old life. No, that wasn’t quite true. But she’d find a new life for herself. Some day.
She declined several invitations to lunch, explaining she had too much catching up to do. But it was true. The day flew by and before she knew it, it was five o’clock. The office cleared out like there’d been a fire drill, and she packed up her things.
Tristan leaned against the wall to her cubicle. “Tomorrow will be easier.”
She smiled, and it was one of the few genuine ones she’d had all day. “I think you’re right. Thanks.”
“Can I walk you to the subway? Unless you drove. Where are you living now?”
“I took the T from my new place in Quincy.” She looked away from him. Tristan lived in Quincy. “I always liked it there.” She told him her new address.
“Nice street. Let me drive you home.” She heard the smile in his voice.
She followed him to his car in the parking ramp. “You still have the Trans-Am.” It was nice to see not everything had changed in their time apart.
“I’m lucky to have it. Monique hates it.”
“What’s to hate about a Trans-Am?”
Tristan laughed. “That’s what I said.”
She loved his boisterous laugh and how it made him sound like a rebellious teen getting away with something. “Are you guys living together?”
His laugh disappeared. “No. We’ve been together over a year now, so she’s mentioned it a few times, but that’s a big step.”
They slipped into the soft leather seats, and Tristan pulled out of the ramp and headed down the busy city street. After an uncomfortable moment of silence, he said, “I never pegged you for a Paris girl.”
She’d spent several weekends on the Cape with Tristan, and a glorious week in the Bahamas. “Yeah, I’m a beach girl. Sean booked the trip before we broke up. Since he’d bought insurance, he cancelled his tickets, but I thought, ‘Screw it. I want to see the Eiffel tower.’” She shrugged. “Wasn’t as exciting as I’d thought it would be.”
She told him about the great food she’d eaten, and the five pounds she’d gained.
“It looks good on you. You’d lost quite a bit of weight since the wedding. I was worried you were sick,” Tristan said.
She looked out the window. Darkness was settling over the city on the gray December day. That’s how she felt inside—gray and cold and quiet. “No, I’m not sick. Some people eat when they’re stressed. I get nauseous. It’s been a rough year. We were married six months when I filed for divorce, and it took a few months to finalize. I’ve been sick to my stomach for a while.”
“So it was basically bad from the beginning,” Tristan said.
“Yeah,” she said quietly. “One night during our honeymoon he went out by himself after I’d gone to bed. Said he couldn’t sleep. He didn’t get back until four. At the time I figured he was just out drinking. But thinking about it now, I bet he found something more.”
Tristan’s fingers turned white as he gripped the steering wheel. “I wish I could beat the crap out of him for you.”
“My brother already offered, but thanks. Really. For your kindness and for the ride home.” Leave it to Tristan to be super thoughtful and nice when he could be gloating about her bad decision.
He pulled up in front of her apartment, and they both sat quietly for a moment. It wasn’t the easy silence they used to share while reading magazines together, or driving to the Cape lost in their thoughts. Regret, loss, and a wisp of wonder over what might have been hung in the air between them now.
“Do you want me to walk you in?” he asked.
“No. I’m fine. Thanks so much for the ride.”
“Anything for you, Charlotte.”
Her heart melted a little, and she flashed him a smile as she got out of the car. She scurried up the flight of stairs to her upper apartment. Looking out the window, she watched his taillights disappear as he drove away. Was he on his way to Monique’s?
She headed for the kitchen, winding her way around the moving boxes. She wasn’t hungry, so she sat down to unpack, facing the daunting task of deciding what would stay and what would go. She’d had movers pack most of her stuff when she left, knowing she’d have to sort through it all later. Going through her things, she realized she didn’t want to keep any gifts from the showers or wedding. With each memory she unwrapped, she shaved a little piece of sadness off the hard part of her heart. It’ll be okay, she kept telling herself. It’ll be okay.
***
The next day, she set boxes of wedding gifts on the conference table. They were things that she’d never used, or were opened but still usable. It wasn’t about giving the presents back it was about making a fresh start. She noticed that Shelby was watching her.
“Can you spread the word that I brought some gifts back?” Charlotte said. “I used the blender a few times. You still want it?”
“I most certainly do.” Shelby scooped up her blender. “Are the croissants coming later?”
Charlotte closed her eyes and smiled. “There are no croissants.”
“That’s okay. I know you’re overwhelmed finding yourself the center of gossip upon your return, all the while wondering, ‘What if?’ about your ex-boyfriend who’s dating a bombshell who doesn’t seem to love or appreciate him like you once did.” Shelby shrugged. “I’ll make a smoothie instead.” Shelby clutched the blender and patted its bottom like it was a snuggly baby happy to be back in its mama’s arms.
“Um…okay,” Charlotte said.
Soon, people were swarming the table snatching up gifts. Charlotte went to her desk, surprised to see Tristan there.
She motioned to the conference table. “Your gift might be over there. Want to grab it?”
“I sent you a card with money after the big day. I didn’t make it to the reception.”
She nodded and sat. “That’s right. And you showed up to the ceremony late. I remember looking up and seeing you right after…” She looked down, her smile falling. “Right after we said our vows.”
“What timing, right?”
“I thought maybe you weren’t coming. I didn’t see you in the church. It’s hard to miss your hair, you know.” It was a reddish-blond, like burnished gold. She adored it.
“You have no idea how sorry I am that I was late.”
She set her hand on his. “It’s okay.”
He wrapped his fingers around hers and squeezed.
“I’ll just come late to your wedding.” She forced a laugh.
He shook his head with a shy little smile. “There is no wedding in my future, thank you very much.”
Not even the luscious creamy Havarti in Paris had made her this happy—and she’d eaten half a pound of it in one sitting.
***
Tristan spent the next few days looking online for advice on how soon was too soon to tell a recently divorced woman you loved her, but he couldn’t find anything. Don’t advice columnists dole out that kind of guidance every day? He certainly wasn’t going to ask his friends about it. Definitely not anyone in the office. Someone would probably announce the news on a giant banner or hire a marching band to come in or choreograph a flash mob routine to spread the word. No, he’d have to figure this one out by himself. Of course, he had the Monique problem to deal with first. And that was no easy thing to resolve.
As the week rolled on, it was so hard not to pull up a chair next to Charlotte’s and chat. Or invite her to lunch. She needed space that was for sure. And he needed to end things with the woman who never should’ve been his girlfriend in the first place. Monique had seemed like a good consolation when Charlotte had gotten engaged. How he regretted their relationship now.
By the time Friday arrived, he couldn’t resist offering Charlotte another ride home. He needed to be close to her in a small space so he could smell her lavender shampoo. Thank God she hadn’t changed that. He wanted to watch her lips move as she sang along to the radio and see her fingers flutter to the beat. He’d be happy just to watch her sleep, as disturbing as that sounded. He just wanted to be alone with her.
Charlotte looked relieved by the invitation. “I’d love a ride. Thanks, your car is much more comfortable than the subway.”
“And there’s no chance of me flashing you or asking for spare change.”
She laughed as they climbed into his car.
“Are you feeling better?” he asked.
“I’m getting fewer sympathy stares at work, so that’s nice. I feel like I should send out a memo telling people I’m not upset about the divorce, I’m just mad that I married the fool in the first place. It’s not like I’m heartbroken. I’m embarrassed and upset by my bad judgment.”
“We’ve all made bad decisions. Maybe your memo would inspire someone else to avoid a bad decision.” He pursed his lips. “Or fix one they’ve made.”
He could tell she was holding her breath. “Do you think they can always be fixed?” she asked.
“I certainly hope so. I’ve got a few to fix myself.”
She turned to look at him, then smiled. “Me, too. A big one. Once I catch my breath. I hope it’s not too late.”
“It’s not,” he said, the words barely making it out of his mouth.
She reached over and squeezed his hand, and he held it until he dropped her off at her apartment.
“Have a good weekend,” she said.
“I will.” And he would, because Charlotte had just cracked open the window for a second chance.
***
Charlotte spent the rest of the night wondering if she was a horrible person. Tristan had a girlfriend. And Charlotte had just made it pretty clear she wanted another shot with him. Still, who knew if he was going to take that shot? Even though they didn’t seem to be in love, Monique was beautiful and rich. He might not want to leave her.
She grabbed a can of soda, and settled in the middle of the floor next to a tower of unpacked boxes. Bubble wrap and flattened boxes were stacked against the wall. Piles of CDs and DVDs lay on the floor waiting to be put away.
She pulled a heavy box down and started emptying it. As she finished unpacking the novels and scrapbooks, she thought about her first date with Tristan more than two years ago. She cracked open one of the albums she’d made when they first started seeing each other. The Valentine’s Day card he’d given her almost three years ago was on the first page.
She laughed. It was a kid’s valentine like you’d pass out at school. There was a picture of an owl sitting on a branch that said, “Guess whoooo wants to be your valentine?” Tristan’s just-barely-legible signature was at the bottom. She had to sneak into his office to compare the handwriting to be sure. Then she’d cornered Jenny to make certain this wasn’t some sort of office prank.
Jenny had assured her she’d had nothing to do with it, but her lips were zipped about the water cooler full of pink champagne in the break room. Charlotte had been thrilled the valentine was legit. She and Tristan had been flirting since she’d started working there two months earlier. So she’d dashed out during lunch, and found a box of school valentine’s with the perfect reply. She’d giggled as she signed her name. Then she left it on his desk before he got back from lunch.
Half an hour later, Tristan came to her desk, smiling. “Owl be your valentine? Are you sure?” He held the little card with a plump pink owl sitting on a branch, winking.
“If you’ll have me,” she teased.
“Want to go out to dinner tonight?”
“I imagine most places will be booked,” Charlotte said.
“Not everywhere.” And they went out for the most romantic dinner Pizza Hut had probably ever seen.
Charlotte sat there holding the scrapbook, tears running down her face. “How did I screw this up so badly?”
***
On Monday, Tristan took her to lunch at their favorite Chinese restaurant. Afterward, he called her desk every half hour and told her knock-knock jokes. After the fourth time, she asked, “Why are you doing this?”
“Because I want to see you smile more.”
She stood with the phone still pressed to her ear and leaned back so she could see into his office. She gave him a big grin.
“That’s what I’m talking about.”
Thanks to Tristan, this week was better than the last, but she was disappointed she didn’t hear any rumors about him dumping Monique.
Was Tristan just being nice to her? Had she misinterpreted their conversation in the car that night?
***
On Friday, Tristan insisted Charlotte join everyone from work for happy hour. He sat in the chair at the empty desk in her cubicle and rolled next to her. “You need to hit happy hour with us tonight.” His leg brushed hers. He was pleased to see she didn’t move it away.
“I don’t know. It’s been a long week.”
“Exactly.”
“I’m not sure I can slap on a happy face and talk about Kardashians and Real Housewives or whatever people are chattering about these days.”
“You can hang out with me in a chatter-free zone. I couldn’t pick the Kardashians out of a line-up and I don’t know one housewife. Plus, I refuse to drive you home. I’ll make you ride the subway. The flashers are out in full force on Fridays, you know.”
She laughed. “What about Monique?”
Tristan paused. “She won’t be there.”
It was almost imperceptible, but Charlotte blew out a breath. “Okay, but I can’t promise I’ll stay long. Or that I won’t get messy drunk.”
“I’ll make sure you get home safely.”
It was a blustery winter evening as they walked down the block to The Bar None. “I haven’t come out to happy hour in a long time,” she said.
“Not since we were dating.” Lord, how he wanted to reach for her hand.
Charlotte looked pained by his words.
“I’d say it’s time to start that again,” he said, knowing his words were cryptic.
Her lips parted and a puff of steam escaped her lips. It was probably warm and sweet. He could almost feel her breath whispering in his ear, or mingling with his in a kiss.
What would happen if he just took her by the shoulders and kissed her? Would she kiss back? Slap him? He couldn’t risk wrecking his chances with her. And oh yeah, there was the Monique problem. He’d never cheated on a woman, and he wasn’t about to start. But he wanted the woman beside him. He was willing to wait as long as necessary. They arrived at the bar, and he held open the door for her.
Please don’t let it be a long wait.
***
The co-workers who had been searching for a way to share their condolences for Charlotte found a solution during happy hour in the form of buying her lots and lots of drinks. Champagne to celebrate her new freedom. Wine to combat any whining. Hard liquor for hard times. Charlotte knew she wasn’t a lightweight and certainly enjoyed a good drink, but by seven-thirty and too many drinks to count, she was ready to leave.
“Tristan, can you help me get a cab?” She hiccupped.
He placed his arm around her waist to steady her, and she leaned into him. “I’ll take you home,” he said.
“You can’t, you have a girlfriend.” Her words were slurred.
“I’m just going to get you home, not take you home.”
“Oh. Darn.”
She was aware of people watching and whispering as the two of them left together, but no matter. “I don’t care!” she shouted when they went outside. Her declaration was a wispy plume dissipating in the dark. She reached up like she could catch her words.
Once they came to Tristan’s car, she fully reclined the front seat.
“Whoa. You okay there?” he asked.
“Sure. This is comfortable. Like I’m in fancy first class where you get a bed. They had that on my plane to Paris. I didn’t sit there, but I saw it.”
“Only fancy first class for you in my car, darlin’.”
Darlin’. The word curled up with a happy sigh in her heart.
She reached over for his hand and he laced his fingers between hers. “Don’t laugh, but when we were dating I thought we’d get married. Then you dumped me.”
Tristan said nothing.
She reached up in the air again to grab the words and put them back. “I’m sorry. I’m drunk. This is why I don’t get drunk. I say stupid things.”
“That wasn’t a stupid thing. It was a sad thing, because I thought the same thing. I thought we’d get married some day. I hoped so, anyway.”
Charlotte sat up, then plopped back down again without the support of a seatback. “Don’t say that. You can’t say that.” Her throat was thick with tears. “You broke up with me. Why would you break up with me if you thought that?” She flung an arm over her eyes and groaned. “Don’t tell me this.”
“I have to. I have to explain. I was going through some incredibly hard, private stuff with my Mom. I really did need a break to handle it all. I thought we could pick things up again.”
Tears streamed down Charlotte’s cheeks. “Why didn’t you let me help you? Why didn’t you tell me what you were going through?”
“I don’t know. My mother was really depressed after my father died. I didn’t want to betray her trust, especially if you and I did end up together. She’d be mortified if her future daughter-in-law knew how desperately depressed she had been. Add to that my stress from work, and I figured it would be too much for you. I needed a break. I never said I was breaking it off for good. And I never thought you’d go off and marry someone else.” Pain laced his voice. “That was one of the worst days of my life, watching you walk out of the church married to another man.”
Charlotte lowered her arm from her face. “You should have told me how you felt.”
“I know.”
Journey’s “Don’t Stop Believin’” played on the radio as they drove along. She reached up and flicked it off, annoyed at the irony.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “The day of your wedding, I decided I was going to tell you. I drove to the church, but I hit traffic, and by the time I got there to make a fool of myself and stop the wedding, you were already married. So I sat down and did my best not to throw up.”
Charlotte slapped a hand across her mouth, thinking she might be the one to vomit. She took a few deep breaths and said, “You mean when I looked up and saw you walk in, you were planning to run up the aisle?”
“Something like that. I wasn’t sure if I should shout it from the back, or walk up to the altar and quietly explain. I didn’t know the proper protocol. I was really nervous.”
Charlotte laughed softly. “I bet.” She stared out the window and watched the streetlights go by. “I didn’t see you at the reception.”
“I didn’t go. I was too upset.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah.”
She groaned. “And now you’re with Monique. The boss’s cousin.”
He pulled in front of her apartment and parked, letting the engine run and the heat blast. “I’m going to end things with her. But first, I’ve been trying to see who’s hiring because I don’t think Jillian’s going to take it well. I’d like to have something lined up before I’m let go.”
She curled up on her side and looked at him. “So you’re really breaking up with Monique?”
He nodded. “Whether or not you’ll ever give me another shot, it’s not fair to be with Monique when I love someone else.”
Charlotte struggled to swallow. “You still love me?”
“I do. Always have.”
Drunk and sloppy, she unbuckled her belt and crawled into his arms. “Owl always love you, too, Tristan.” Tears pricked her eyes and she smiled.
“Whooo’s the luckiest guy ever?” he asked in a thick voice.
They stared at each other and he tucked his hand around her neck and pulled her into a kiss.
She sighed as their lips met, like so much time hadn’t passed since they last did this.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
“For what?”
“For running when I got scared. I should’ve fought for you when you wanted a break. I should have trusted you.”
“And I shouldn’t have waited until it was too late to fight for you. I’d call it even.” He grabbed her hand. “Let’s get you inside.”
He hopped out of the car and opened her door, leading her into the apartment. She stumbled to her bedroom and fell on the bed, fully clothed. He slipped off her shoes and covered her with a quilt.
“Stay with me,” she said.
He pressed his lips together. “I’ll stay, but nothing can happen between us until I break up with Monique.”
“So call her now.” Charlotte giggled.
He kicked off his shoes and crawled into bed, taking her into his arms. “That’s a conversation I need to have in person.” He brushed her hair off her face, and Charlotte fell asleep, smiling.
***
Tristan lay next to Charlotte, smoothing her hair and planting soft kisses on her cheek. Getting a second chance like this made him the luckiest man in the world. He fell asleep with her in his arms, and woke that way, too.
He slipped out of bed and made her breakfast. Eggs and toast should help the wicked hangover she was sure to have. He frowned. She’d been drunk last night. Had she meant everything she said?
Spotting the extensive collection of owl magnets on her fridge, he laughed. He remembered getting her some of those when they were dating.
He walked into her bedroom with a plate of food, and she sat on the edge of the bed with her head in her hands, groaning.
“I made you breakfast,” he said.
She looked up at him and smiled. “I didn’t dream that you told me you’re leaving Monique, did I?”
He sat next to her. “No. It’s true. And please tell me you remember everything you said?”
“Of course I do. This is the best morning I’ve had in years.” Then she ran to the bathroom and slammed the door. He heard her throw up.
“Love you, too, honey,” he called after her, laughing. He heard something slam against the door and wondered what she’d thrown.
***
Monday morning, everyone stopped talking when he walked into the office.
“Have a good weekend?” Chuck asked.
“Because we saw you leave with Charlotte Friday and now we have a pool going on when you two get back together,” Shelby explained. “Oh, and whether or not Jillian fires you.”
Chuck gave her a look, then said, “I think four weeks from now would be a fine time for you two to give things another shot.”
“No, it’ll be sooner than that,” Shelby said. “Won’t it? Please?”
Shaking his head, Tristan walked toward Jillian’s office. “She’ll be out of the office for the next week,” Shelby said. “She’s getting ready for the holiday party.”
Tristan closed his office door behind him and picked up the phone. He should have broken things off with Monique a long time ago. He would’ve eventually ended their relationship even without Charlotte’s divorce. But still, he felt sick knowing what he was going to have to tell Monique.
She answered and he cleared his throat. “Monique, can you meet me for lunch?”
“No.”
“Why not?” he asked, surprised and a little annoyed.
“Jillian and I are in New York making some last minute purchases for the holiday party.”
“Our holiday party? The one we always have at the hotel ballroom with the shrimp tree and the ice sculpture of Jillian? What’s to decide?”
“It’s going to be very special this year.”
Monique called herself a publicist, but from what he could see, she did very little work. A trust fund from her grandfather kept her in Gucci and Armani and out of the office she rented. He had no idea why she’d been happy to settle for him. His family wasn’t wealthy or well connected.
“I really need to talk to you?”
Monique paused. “You do?”
“It’s important.”
“It’s going to have to wait. I don’t think I’ll be able to see you for even a moment this week.”
“Seriously? I have to see you.”
“Awww, so sweet.”
“No, Monique—”
She cut him off. “You’re just going to have to be patient.” And she hung up on him.
Tristan swore.
There was a knock on his door. “Who is it?”
“Charlotte.”
“Come in.”
“What’s wrong? I heard you swearing.”
“Monique is going to be out of town all week. And I don’t want to break up with her over the phone.”
Charlotte came inside and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. “I can wait. And you said you could, too.”
“I lied.”
She laughed. “Come over tonight, and we’ll talk about how much we wish we were in bed together.”
He raised an eyebrow.
“Yes, just talking,” she said. “Sean cheated on me and I won’t do that to someone else.”
***
Tristan had said he wasn’t sure whether or not he’d see Monique before the party to break things off, so Charlotte went to the hotel solo. She walked into the ballroom and whistled. A string quartet played Christmas carols in one corner. Huge bouquets of white flowers were arranged in crystal vases. Their previous parties had never been this elaborate. “Fancy,” she said, looking around. She spotted Jenny with her boyfriend, Nolan, and went over to them.
“Jillian went all out this year,” Jenny said. “Is she trying to land an account with the hotel or something?”
“I don’t know,” Charlotte said. White gauzy fabric covered each table making them appear to be dripping with snow. Spotlights shone intricate snowflakes on the walls. White twinkle lights dangled from the ceiling and miniature white Christmas trees sat on each table. “She should be an event planner. This is nicer than my wedding was.” Charlotte laughed, and Jenny rubbed her back.
“If you can joke about it, you’re getting over it,” Jenny said.
Hooking up with my ex has done wonders, Charlotte thought. It had only been a kiss, but still. She wanted Tristan back, but would it cost him his job?
Jenny and Nolan walked off, and Charlotte smoothed her slinky garnet colored dress, scanning the room for Tristan. She knew he loved her in this color and couldn’t wait to see his reaction.
She heard his voice before she saw him, and her insides fluttered. She turned to look and her smile fell. He was coming into the ballroom with Monique at his side. He must not have broken it off with her yet. She gritted her teeth.
“This place is amazing!” Monique said. She’d been poured into an icy blue dress, a glittering necklace, and tiara. Long, sparkly earrings glinted under her mane of blond hair. She reminded Charlotte of a cake with one too many rosettes.
“It really is,” Charlotte said.
Monique’s eyes widened, and she placed a silky, gloved hand over her mouth. “She got the silver bows for each chair like I asked. I have to go find Jillian and thank her.” She ran off.
“Thank her for what? What does that mean? Why does she care about our party?” Charlotte asked Tristan.
Tristan scratched his head. “I don’t know, but she’s been talking incessantly about this party and how important it is to Jillian. That’s why I decided to wait until it was over to end things with her. If I didn’t spoil her night, I thought Jillian might not be as mad.”
Charlotte’s heart fell. It’d been more than a week since Tristan told her he was going to break up with Monique. A nasty thought crept through her brain: Maybe he changed his mind.
“You look great,” he whispered.
“Thanks, so do you. I wish we were here together.”
“Me, too. I’ll tell her tonight. After the party.”
She closed her eyes and nodded. She hated that she was breaking up a couple, but she and Tristan were meant to be together. He’d admitted things were going nowhere with Monique, that it was only a matter of time before their relationship fell apart. And it certainly didn’t seem like Monique was deeply in love with Tristan. Not like Charlotte was. Like she always had been.
Jillian waved them over. “Does she want you or me?” Charlotte asked.
“Let’s go find out,” Tristan said.
The party was set up with food stations and roving waiters. Charlotte snagged a coconut shrimp from one of their trays.
“Don’t you look lovely, Charlotte,” Jillian said. “Maybe you’ll hook up tonight and get that nasty ex out of your head.” Jillian turned to Tristan and straightened his tie. “I’m so glad you wore navy tonight. It goes great with Monique’s dress.”
Tristan looked puzzled.
“Oh! The photographer’s here!” Jillian hurried to the door while Monique squealed and followed her.
“I probably shouldn’t stay by your side all night. I don’t want it to be obvious I’m the reason for your relationship ending,” Charlotte says.
“I don’t think we can avoid that. I think everyone’s expecting it.”
“Not Monique and Jillian,” Charlotte said.
“If it’s not too late, can I come by tonight after I talk with Monique?”
“Stop by no matter what time it is. Climb through my fire escape if I don’t answer the door because I fell asleep.”
“I promise.” Tristan quickly squeezed her hand, and Charlotte took a deep breath and walked away. Shelby was nursing a drink at the bar, so Charlotte took a champagne flute from a waiter and joined her.
“You must hate Monique so much,” Shelby said.
Charlotte choked on her champagne. “Why would you say that?”
“Because she’s dating your ex. And she’s gorgeous and rich—that’s why I hate her. You must really hate her since you still love Tristan.”
“Excuse me?”
“We have a pool going on guessing when you get back together. And another for when you tie the knot. Don’t do it too soon. I said eight months.” Shelby shrugged.
“Everyone thinks so? Even Jillian?”
“No, Jillian thinks Tristan and Monique are destined for each other. But what does she know? Have you ever seen her picks in the football pool? She’s never right. I think she just wants them to be together. Monique is like the little sister she never had. Her own Barbie doll come to life that she can dress and send on dates with Ken. Or Tristan.”
Charlotte set down her drink feeling too queasy to finish it. Maybe she should go home. She couldn’t handle seeing Tristan with Monique. There was no need for her to stay. Dinner was being served at stations, so there was no official table seating arrangements. She’d made her appearance. No one would miss her, and Tristan would come to her later.
As she headed for the coat check, the lights dimmed and the music stopped. Charlotte turned around.
Jillian stood on a small stage and tapped a microphone. “Good evening everyone, and welcome to a very special holiday party.” She received a light round of applause.
“I am so glad you could join us tonight, not only to celebrate the magical holidays of the winter season—Hanukah, Ramadan, Christmas and Kwanzaa I’m looking at you—but also to share in the joy of two people close to us all.”
Charlotte’s throat tightened and her palms felt sweaty.
Monique joined Jillian on stage.
“You all know my cousin Monique, and let me tell you, this is a girl who goes after what she wants.” Nervous laughter from the audience followed.
“She’s here in this beautiful setting to change her future. Monique?” Jillian handed the microphone to her cousin.
“Thank you, Jillian, and thank you for arranging all this. It’s lovely. So lovely.” Monique blinked rapidly and looked out over the crowd.
Charlotte tried to catch Tristan’s gaze across the room to see his reaction to all this, but he stared straight at the stage, rubbing his chin.
“I’m not an old-fashioned girl,” Monique said. “And I’m not one to wait around for what I want. And what I want is you, Tristan.” She crooked a finger at him, inviting him on stage with her.
At first, he froze. Then the crowd chanted, “Tristan! Tristan!” He climbed onto the stage, face pale.
Monique took his hand in hers and dropped to one knee. Charlotte heard the people beside her draw in breaths.
“Tristan, I want you to propose to me. Here. Tonight. I’ve made it easy for you. I’ve picked out my ring, all you have to do is go pick it up and pay for it. Will you make me the happiest woman in the world? Will you ask me to marry you?”
Tristan looked stunned. And when everyone was done gawking, they craned their necks around, undoubtedly searching for Charlotte to see her reaction.
So she did what she did best: she ran.
***
Tristan saw a flash of red bolt from the room. “Shit,” he said quietly. Or not so quietly. The microphone picked it up for everyone in the room to hear. “Can we talk privately, Monique?”
She stood, hands shaking. “Aww, I knew Tristan was shy. You all enjoy the party while the two of us talk. Better get used to it. This is what life with me is going to be like—full of surprises.” She set the microphone on a table and took Tristan by the hand, leading him into the lobby.
“Monique…”
She clasped her hands in front of her in a begging gesture. “You’re embarrassing me. Why didn’t you ask me to marry you? That was a proposal proposal. Jillian and I are trying to make it a thing—when a woman asks the guy to ask her to marry her. It’ll make everything so much easier for couples everywhere. It’s going to catch on and we can say we were the first to do it.”
His mouth opened and closed wordlessly.
“I’m sorry if I ruined any plans you had to propose to me. I figured that was the important thing you wanted to talk to me about this week, but I didn’t want to wreck everything we’d planned for the party. Is that why you’re upset? Because you didn’t get to do it?”
Tristan shook his head. “No, I wasn’t going to ask you to marry me this week.”
“Did you have something planned for the holidays? At the Nutcracker maybe?” She sucked in a breath. “You were going to do it on New Year’s, weren’t you?”
“Monique…” He scanned the room, trying to locate Charlotte.
She cut him off and rested her head on his shoulder. “I’m sorry. I took a chance doing this. We’ve been dating for a year and a half. I’m in my prime, and if you’re not going to marry me, I need to move on.”
He closed his eyes, hoping he was holding back his smile. “You’re an incredible girl, Monique. And some guy is going to be so lucky to have you. But that guy isn’t me.”
Monique looked down at herself. “Really? You don’t want this?” She swept her hand along her body.
“I’ve never stopped loving Charlotte.”
“All this time we were together?”
“I’m just realizing it now.”
“Tristan!” Charlotte ran up to them, breathless.
“Charlotte…” Tristan said.
“I ran from you when you needed a break and look what happened. I’m not running now. Monique, I’m sorry, but I love Tristan. I never stopped.”
She rolled her eyes. “And he loves you. Blah, blah, blah. Just heard all about it.” She groaned. “I wasted so much time with you. You know, Jillian gave me a list of guys to choose from and I can’t believe I picked you.”
Jillian walked out of the ballroom with bulging eyes and a tight smile. “People, what is going on? I have a room full of guests waiting on an answer.”
“You were right, Jilly,” Monique said.
“About what?”
“When you told me to choose someone besides Tristan from your list.” She jabbed her thumb in his direction. “He’s still in love with Charlotte.”
Jillian stared at Tristan, and he squared his shoulders. “You’re going to have a hard time replacing me.”
Jillian laughed. “No I won’t. I have a list of ten men I can call who’ll go out with Monique like that.” She snapped her fingers. “I’ll save all this crap from the party for the next time.”
“I meant replacing me at the office when you fire me for this.”
Jillian laughed. “Fire you? For this? We’ll find someone else for her. It’s hard to find a good IT guy for what we pay you.”
“What?” Tristan shook his head. “But you fired that Nelson guy when he got a new haircut.”
Jillian waved him off. “He’d been drinking on the job—my alcohol, I should add.”
“And what about Tom?” Charlotte asked. “You fired him when he started dating Joy.”
“Really, what do you think I am? Unreasonable? He quit and took the New York job. I didn’t fire him.”
“You sort of forced him out,” Charlotte said.
“Tomatoes tomahtoes,” Jillian said.
Shelby took a few steps toward the group. “Sorry to interrupt—actually, I’m not sorry. I’ve been dying to interrupt. We’ve got a bunch of people wondering if you two are back together? There’s a lot of money riding on this.”
Tristan turned and saw the entire party gathered outside the ballroom, watching.
He reached for Charlotte’s hand. “We never should’ve been apart.”
Applause broke out and Monique narrowed her eyes. “Do I still get your engagement gift, Jillian? That Waterford decanter you told me about?”
“I think so,” Charlotte said. “I gave it back to her a few weeks ago from my wedding.”
Jillian blushed and bustled Monique away from the group. “Of course you get the decanter. And let’s go to the spa tomorrow. Then we’ll take another look at that list of men.”
Tristan took Charlotte in his arms and squeezed her. “I’m not letting you go this time.”
“And I’m not running ever again.”
Shelby rubbed her hands together. “All right, we’re still placing bets on when they’re going to tie the knot. Anyone else want in?”
People lined up, pulling money out of wallets and purses, while Tristan and Charlotte snuck off and waited for the valet to get his car. “Your place or mine?” Tristan asked, snagging her hand in his.
Charlotte raised an eyebrow. “Whichever’s closer.”
He kissed her forehead and pulled her to him. “So, should we call this take two?”
“How about the last take? This time, we’re going to get it right.”
“We will. I promise.”
***