The Redemption (Charlotte Bloom Book 2) Read online

  Harry’s door opened.

  “Hey, Charlotte. Come in.”

  “Thanks,” I said politely, as I closed the door behind me.

  I looked around as I stepped into his new house. It was the first time I’d seen it. “It looks nice,” I mumbled, shocked to see that it was already decorated and lived-in. My small apartment was still totally bare. I hadn’t even unpacked the kitchen. My pots and pans were still being stored in worn-out boxes. It wasn't that I didn’t have the money to rent a house like Harry’s. Our divorce had been amicable, and we’d split and sold most of our assets. The profits from the house sale went straight into a retirement account for me, per a suggestion from my retired father. The rest was sitting in savings, padded by my measly paychecks. It was just that I had wanted something… cozier. Admittedly, I had needed something temporary. A house seemed too big for me right now.

  “Look, thanks for coming. I know it’s probably weird being here,” he said, with his hands in his pockets. I stared at him for a minute. I couldn’t believe that this man had been my number one.

  “It’s fine.”

  “You look… well, you’ve looked better.” He came over and sat me down on the new leather couch. I hated leather couches.

  I ran my fingers through my curly, red hair. Normally, it was long and sleek. Today, or the last few months, rather, I’d given up. I wasn’t wearing any makeup, which was pretty unusual for me. I never wore a face full of makeup or anything, but I always put on mascara, blush, and lip gloss. My pale skin had only gotten paler, and I was wearing baggy jeans and an old t-shirt. I was a skeleton of what I’d previously been. I had dark circles under my eyes, which seemed much more prominent set as they were against my paler-than-pale skin. My hazel eyes were lifeless and unsmiling most of the time. I didn’t recognize myself.

  “It’s been a hard transition.”

  “What, the divorce? Or… Alec?”

  I cringed. I’d told Harry everything the day I’d returned. He had met me at Amara’s apartment and I had spilled the beans to both of them.

  The story went like this: Harry had left me at Amara’s wedding, and I had flipped out. I’d gone to Lainey’s to demand a solution, but she hadn't been there. I’d gone to Bloomingdales and gotten enough clothes for a week abroad. On the advice of Amara’s cousin, I’d decided I needed to find my happiness again. When I arrived at LAX I had told myself I’d book the first flight out to Europe, which had happened to be Swansea, in Wales. That had in turn led me to Parc-Le-Bouveret, due to a lucky encounter with Tommy, the cab driver. To sum up a very long and detailed story: I met and fell in love with Alec Baxter, the groom at Parc-Le-Bouveret. I think that had been the hardest part for Harry to hear.

  “If you’re going to be like that, I’m going to leave.”

  “I’m sorry. I guess it just hurts to know that I'm over here mourning our almost-seven-year marriage, while you’re mourning some guy you met the day after we decided to separate.”

  “I told you. Nothing happened until my last day.”

  It was true. I had spent the first few weeks in Wales alone. Yes, I’d gotten to know Alec, but nothing had happened until the last two nights: the night he’d kissed me, and the night we’d made love.

  “It still hurts,” Harry said. His soulful eyes darkened with sadness. I guess we were both sad for different reasons.

  “Don’t think I didn’t love you. I loved you with such ferocity that I was willing to do anything to save our marriage. I tried, Harry. It didn’t work. You even said so. Complacency took the place of happiness a long time ago. We’re better off.”

  “I know.”

  “So… why did you want to see me?”

  “I want you to know that you have my blessing.”

  “What?”

  “I said before that it hurts to see you so saddened by some guy you knew for six weeks, but if he makes you happy, you have my blessing.”

  “Oh.”

  “I overheard Sam talking to Amara the other day, about setting you up with that guy. Charlie.”

  “Right. Charlie. The actor.”

  Was I really discussing my potential dating prospects with my ex-husband?

  “I just wanted to sit you down and tell you that it’s OK if you want to start dating. Don’t worry about me.”

  “Well, thank you.”

  To be honest—and maybe this made me a horrible person—I hadn’t even considered Harry’s feelings.

  “Do you think you’ll go back?”

  “Where?”

  “Wales. Do you think you’ll go back to Alec?”

  “I honestly don’t know. It was kind of like the first time you taste a really good meal. It’s so delicious. Your mouth waters with every bite. But when you try and recreate it at home, it’s not the same. I’m afraid of that. I’m afraid I ruined everything by leaving.”

  “I’m sorry I demanded that you come home. I didn’t… I didn’t realize he made you so happy.”

  “Well, what’s done is done.”

  “You should go back, Charlotte.”

  I stood up, enraged. He of all people had the audacity to pretend to know how I felt, how much it hurt to think about going back.

  “Why does everyone keep saying that? I’m punishing myself all day, every day over here. I know I should go back. But do you know what? Why should I? My life there was exactly what I needed at the time. It was this perfect slice of heaven. I’ve never been happier. And I’d rather have that forever than possibly something less than perfect, something I could ruin by going back. We hardly even know each other. Alec and I… it was just a vacation fling. I’d prefer to keep it perfect in my head forever.”

  “Your reasoning makes no sense. You’re scared to go back because… it might not be the same?”

  “I don’t deserve him, Harry. Not after I ignored him for three months. He’s been nothing but wonderful, even though he hasn’t spoken to me directly since I left. I’m an awful person.”

  “So you’re just going to wallow in your misery, then?”

  “I guess so,” I said defiantly. “It’s easier than admitting the truth,” I said, tears leaking out of the corners of my eyes.

  “Which is?”

  “I miss him. I miss him so fucking much,” I whispered, collapsing onto the floor.

  I put my hands up to my face and cried. I felt Harry rub my back.

  “I still love you, you know. We may not be in love anymore, but I will always care about you.

  “I know. I love you too, Harry. I’m sorry for everything.”

  ***

  The next morning, I walked over to the red suitcase, the one I hadn’t opened since returning from Wales. I knelt down in front of it, my bare knees on the frigid, tiled kitchen floor, and unzipped it. Maybe it was my imagination but, I swear, the minute I opened it I could smell Alec all over again: his cedary, soapy smell that didn’t come from any kind of artificial fragrance. It was his natural scent... and it drove me crazy. On top of my clothes was a bouquet of lilies. They sat there, smashed and dried out.

  Alec hadn’t taken his eyes off of me since he'd walked in. I walked over to him and he dropped the lilies on the ground before turning to leave. I panicked.

  “Alec, wait!” I grabbed his arm and he spun around, his eyes angry.

  “So, you’re leaving? Why?”

  “It’s complicated,” I said, bending down to pick the lilies up off of the floor. “How did you know lilies were my favorite flower?”

  “I didn’t. They just reminded me of you.”

  I took the dried lilies and walked over to an old picture in a frame. It was something completely insignificant now; something Harry had gotten me on a date at one point. It was a generic picture of the Oregon coastline, and as much as I loved what it signified (where I had grown up and gone to college), it didn’t mean as much as these lilies now meant to me. I slowly removed the glass from the frame, slid out the picture, and laid the lilies flat, smashing them against the glass
as I closed it. I turned it over and looked at it. Perfect. The black cardboard was a nice backdrop for the cream and now-browned lilies. I grabbed a nail and hammer from my small toolbox under the sink. I leaned against the side of my bed and placed the nail above my bed, right in the center. I hung the framed lilies. There.

  Now I had some art.

  ***

  I emailed Katie back the next day at work. I didn’t know how to respondto her and, inevitably, Alec that no, I would not be coming for the Christmas party. I’d thought about it all night. Money wasn’t the issue; I had plenty of it for the first time in my life, because of the divorce. It wasn’t that I would have to take time off of work. This job was more of a means to an end—a way to pay my bills until I found my dream job.

  There was only one job I'd ever felt passionate about, and that job was in Wales, and it technically no longer existed. Even if I did go back, it wasn’t like I could just resume where I’d left off. Helen and George were fine without me, and if something did come up, they could always email or call me with any questions. That was the beauty of PR. It was fairly easy to do remotely.

  The thought of going back to Wales and facing Alec after I had left him standing against the door of Parc-Le-Bouveret, after we’d made love twice, after we’d said “I love you”, was too much to bear. I’d broken his heart. He’d said so. His perfect mouth had crumpled into a sob, and that beast of a man had broken down and slumped into me, crying. I was a heartless, soulless bitch. I’d chosen my life here over him, and I’d proven that when I had gotten into the taxi and left. I’d proven it with every swipe of my finger as I deleted his messages, every flick of my wrists as I tossed his letters in the trash. I had promised him that I would be back. It was too late now. He had to know that I was never coming back.

  I composed myself and wrote the most honest email I’d ever written. I felt like I was writing a diary entry.

  Dear Katie,

  Thank you so much for the invitation to the Christmas party. I really wanted to write this email and say, “Yes! Count me in! I’ll be there!” Life would be so easy if I could write that, huh? But life doesn’t work like that. I won’t be coming. And not for the various reasons people usually throw at these things—if I was set on going, I would get there somehow, some way. I’m fully aware that I’m holding myself back from something great. We both know what I’m talking about. Alec.

  I’ve thought about this a lot, especially more recently as I’ve realized it has been almost three(!) months since I left. I feel like I was there just yesterday. Anyways, I can’t come back. It would be too painful for myself, for Alec, if things didn’t work out. I yearn for my life in Wales with every ounce of my being.

  Life has been miserable here since my return. I’ve skirted over it in previous emails as an act of self-preservation but in reality, I think of Alec every day, every minute, and every second. I hate myself for what I did, and how I just… left. I abandoned the very best thing that had ever happened to me. I’m still dealing with the aftermath. Usually, this means ordering takeout every night, ignoring my friends, and watching a lot of bad TV.

  I’m sad. I don’t know what to do. I just know that I can’t show up now, after having been gone for so long. I was given a second chance at love. It was a helluva second chance. I won’t be getting a third chance. Life doesn’t work like that. I need to move on with my life now. I’ve done enough moping around. Of course I’ll always love Alec, but it’s not like I can go back now with my tail between my legs. It’s best if we both move on. It was a fleeting romance. Nothing more. It can never be anything more than that.

  Anyways, I’m sorry. I love you—all of you. I want you to know that you are welcome in L.A. any time. Please keep me updated on everything. You are one of my nearest and dearest friends, and I hope you know that that will never change. Please give my love to everyone, especially Alec.

  Xox,

  Charlotte

  I sent it immediately. I didn’t want to overthink it, and what I said had to be said. It felt good to be honest for once. I felt instantly relieved. I needed what I had written to sink in. I needed to move on.

  I hadn’t been totally honest with everyone since my return. I didn’t even know if they knew Alec had been trying to contact me. It didn’t matter at this point. I knew I was right in sending the email. I had to move on. I couldn’t keep living my life like this. I wasn’t taking care of myself. I needed to figure everything out on my own.

  ***

  The next day, Amara took me shopping for a dress for my date with Charlie.

  “You should try this one,” Amara suggested, shoving a short, revealing black dress at me. “I bet you could fit into a size 2 now anyways. You’ve turned into a tiny bag of bones,” she joked. “We need to fatten you up. But… after you wear this dress.”

  I looked it over. It was totally not my style. I was more of a classic clothing type of person. I liked cardigans, jeans, t-shirts… I’d never even worn a strapless dress. On top of that, it had the shortest hemline I’d ever seen on a dress meant for an adult woman.

  “I don’t know, Mar. It seems kind of slutty.”

  “And?”

  “I’m not slutty. I couldn’t be slutty if I tried.”

  “I beg to differ.”

  “I agreed to go on this date with Charlie mostly as a favor to you. I’d rather not come across as slutty.”

  “Suit yourself. I’m going to try it on, even though I doubt it’ll fit me.”

  It was true. Amara was tall and Portuguese, and she had an envious, curvalicious body.

  I browsed more of the dress selections. I was looking for something a little less revealing—something simple. I went to the sale rack. As I slid the hangers from one side to the other, I came upon a red dress with maroon velvet paisley all over it. My heart stopped. I owned this dress. I’d worn it in Wales. It was the dress I had been wearing when Alec and I had revealed our feelings for each other, the night everything had changed.

  I kept going, pushing the red dress out of view. I had to move on. After a long and tiring search, I gave in to the short, tight black dress. Amara would not stop hounding me about it, so I had to concede. I would definitely need Spanx for this dress. Amara had described Charlie as a “good guy with an edge”. I had no idea how to dress for a guy like that, but I decided I would top the look off with a leather jacket. That way, the top portion wouldn’t be too revealing. I kept pushing the same thought out of my head: with Alec, I never had to think about what I was going to wear.

  Or what I wouldn’t wear.

  As I looked up, Alec took his shirt off. Holy mother of god. I tried to avert my eyes. The smell of the room, and Alec standing there shirtless was almost too much to take. I almost swooned. Like, literally, swooned and fainted. I clutched the door frame as he turned around and walked into his closet. His back was broad and tanned, and it was very muscular. I imagined working with the horses every day was very active. He turned back around with a new white shirt, and I looked down. I didn’t want him to catch me looking.

  “You have a nice room,” I said quietly. My voice came out mouse-like and meek.

  “It does the trick.”

  I dared to look up again, and my heart stopped as I realized he was staring at me, looking at me from head to toe. I guess he hadn’t gotten a good look before in the dark kitchen or hallway. He kept eye contact while he buttoned his shirt up, which was some sort of cruel, sick joke in my eyes. It should be the other way around—he should be unbuttoning it. I looked down. I had to. This was driving me crazy. So what, he had a nice body. I could admire that as a friend. It was like the times I went to the beach with Amara and admired her perfect, tanned, svelte Portuguese body. Except that I didn’t want to jump on Amara and have sex with her on this bed, in this room.

  ***

  I spent the majority of my afternoon primping myself for Charlie. On the one hand, I was still totally and completely hung up on Alec, and I couldn’t deny feeling that
way. On the other hand, I was ready to move on with my life. Yes, it was sad that we never really had a chance. Yes, I still thought about him every second of every day. Yes, he was probably the love of my life. But I couldn’t continue living this sad, dull existence. Alec wasn’t going to move to L.A., and I had no plans to move to Wales. As much as I loved him, it wouldn’t work. It couldn’t work.

  I straightened my hair, leaving it long and sleek against the tight black dress, under which I’d thrown on a pair of Spanx. I topped the look off with sheer black tights and black pumps. I kept my makeup simple, only adding a hint of a smoky eye, peach blush, and some nude lipgloss. I had no intention of sleeping with Charlie. I hadn’t even tidied my apartment, thinking it would serve as a good, natural deterrent. I wasn’t worried about it. I wasn’t that kind of girl, but… if everything Amara had said was true, it might be hard to fight him off. He seemed like a really nice guy. I liked nice guys.

  “You know… I’m beginning to think that I don’t like you,” I said boldly.

  He stood, and I followed suit. He was so much taller than me. I was leaning against the railing of the porch. He put one hand on the railing, blocking me in, pinning me against the hard wood. I liked it, but he couldn’t know that. I stood up straight to prove that his gesture wasn't bothering me. He couldn't intimidate me.