“Like?”
“Like, I’m a new bride. I have a freaking tiara to prove it. Despite everything, Adam, I am blissfully happy. We’re together. That’s all that matters.”
“It’s the only thing that matters,” he agreed, sweeping his hand through my hair.
“I also managed to strike number eighty-one off my list of things I’ve never done. That’s exciting. Tonight, I got my very first black eye.” I said it way too proudly. “Of course, I expected it to happen during a wild pub brawl or while I was resisting arrest, so the circumstances are quite disappointing.”
“Of course. How disappointing.” He pulled me in impossibly close. “Just out of curiosity, what’s number eighty-two on the list?”
I replied without hesitation. “Getting stung by a bee.”
He pursed his lips, smiling with his eyes. “You’ve never been stung by a bee?”
“Nope.” I tilted my head. “Not for the want of trying though.”
“You’re crazy, Charlotte.”
“Like I’ve never heard that before,” I replied. It was good to hear him laugh.
20. Coup de Grâce
By the next morning, I had to concede that there wasn’t a whole lot of good in having a black eye.
I stood in the bathroom, staring at my reflection in the mirror. The bluish-black bruise extended from the top of my cheek to the corner of my eye. The graze made my cheek puffy and red. I looked like a ghoulish pirate.
Adam tried to play it cool when he saw it, promising me that it really didn’t look too horrible. I called him out on being a terrible liar and he promptly left the bathroom without further comment.
I began to worry that it might scar. I’d never been a vain person, but permanently resembling a pirate was hardly a good look. I considered consulting a plastic surgeon. No doubt Kinsey or Seraphina could hook me up. I could sue Fiona Décarie to pay for it. Ryan could represent me. I could clean her out and steal her kingdom, just as I’d stolen her youngest prince.
The sound of Adam calling my name jolted me back to reality – and put a stop to any plans I had of ending my chaotic mental rambling with an out-loud evil laugh. The urgency of his voice suggested it wasn’t the first time he’d called out to me.
“I’m here,” I said, looking at him through the mirror.
He leaned against the doorframe, frowning. “I know you’re here. Are you alright?”
“Yes, of course.”
“Good. My mother is here.” His face matched his dour tone.
“Why?”
“To make peace, I think. Please, Charli. Play nice, for me.”
“I will,” I promised. “Just give me a minute.” I waved my compact at him through the mirror, implying that I wanted time to cover my bruises.
Truthfully, I wasn’t even going to attempt it. The queen deserved to see exactly what she’d done to me in her fit of rage. As soon as Adam left, I put the compact back in the drawer, pulled my hair into a ponytail and put my game face on.
“Charlotte, darling,” crooned Fiona, the second I walked into the room.
She still had her coat on. It gave me hope that she wasn’t going to stay long.
“Hello, Mrs Décarie,” I replied, trying to sound as if I felt as sore as I looked.
I stood beside Adam and he grabbed my hand. The reassuring squeezes he gave my fingers had almost become a secret language between us. He did it a lot when we were in hostile territory.
“Call me Fiona, please. I just wanted to stop and bring you this.” She stepped forward, thrusting a poinsettia plant at me.
Adam thanked her, probably because he thought I wouldn’t.
“It’s lovely,” I said, setting the scarlet Christmassy plant down on the edge of the kitchen bench.
It was a lie. I hate poinsettias. Besides, the idea of Fiona Décarie gifting me a flower that represented purity was more than a little odd – not that she would have had a clue about its meaning.
“Your eye looks a little better this morning.”
I wondered if every word we’d ever exchange from here on in would be a whopping great lie.
Adam called her on it straight away. “No, it doesn’t.”
Fiona nodded. “It’s true. You do look terribly wounded.”
“I’ll recover.”
The smile she gave was tiny. “Well, as long as you’re okay.”
And haven’t grassed on you, I added silently.
A long few seconds of silence set in. It was Adam who got a reprieve. His phone rang and he excused himself to answer it. I was jealous. I would’ve accepted a call from the devil himself if it had brought me an excuse to leave.
“I think we should wipe the slate clean,” suggested Fiona, as soon as he was gone. “You and I should spend some time getting to know each other, Charlotte.”
“Why?”
Her eyes drifted to the floor but I got the impression it was me who was supposed to be embarrassed by my question. “Because whether we like it or not, we’re family now.”
“Wouldn’t it make more sense just to steer clear of each other?”
“This won’t be an easy process if all the effort has to come from me,” she snapped.
“Fine. What do you suggest?”
“I think we should meet for lunch next week – when your face is respectable again, of course.”
“Of course,” I said sarcastically. “You do remember why my face is bruised, don’t you?”
Fiona stepped toward me to hiss her words. “I regret it terribly, Charlotte.”
I felt no need to play nice anymore. If she were truly remorseful and genuine about starting over, she would handle it. “It’s Charli. I’m just plain, wrong-side-of-the-tracks, Charli. Calling me Charlotte doesn’t add any grandeur to who I am.”
“I’ve noticed that my son prefers to call you Charlotte.” The wretched look on her face suggested she’d just brought something awful to my attention.
“And I’ve noticed that you like to refer to Adam as your son. Is it a territorial thing or do you have trouble remembering his name?”
Fiona didn’t appear ruffled in the slightest. “In time you’ll acquire some decorum,” she said calmly. “I hope you’re a fast learner, for all our sakes.”
“At least you realise I’m not going anywhere.”
“If you’re going to maintain such a nasty attitude, it’s going to be impossible to move forward. You’re not too ignorant to realise that.”
Furiously, I shook my head.
Fiona looked past me, smiling brightly. It was a big hint that Adam was on his way back into the room.
“Darling,” she crooned.
“Mom.” His voice was void of any emotion.
“Charli and I are going to meet for lunch next week,” Fiona said, darting her eyes between the both of us.
“Seriously?” Adam sounded as worried as I’d ever heard him.
“Of course. I need to get to know my new daughter-in-law.” She didn’t even choke as she said it. “Choose the time and the place, Charli. I’ll be there.”
If Adam was sceptical of her turnaround, he didn’t let on.
It was a case of out of sight, out of mind. Once Fiona left our apartment, she wasn’t mentioned again for the rest of the day.
We lazed around all afternoon. I sat on the floor, poring over the latest few hundred photos I’d taken. Adam sprawled on the couch behind me with his head buried in some textbooks, studying as always. I loved the silence. It was comfortable and calm.
What I didn’t love was the fact I wasn’t doing anything productive. The advice Adam received from the immigration lawyer was clear and precise. Working illegally for tips while waiting for my visa to be approved wasn’t a smart idea. My new husband fired me in an instant.
It had only been a few days since my last shift at Nellie’s but I was already feeling slightly without purpose. “What am I supposed to do for the next two years, Adam?” I asked, dropping a handful of pictures on to the flo
or in front of me.
“Love me.”
“That’s it?” I turned around, grabbed the book he was reading and snapped it shut, ensuring I had his full attention. “That doesn’t sound too challenging.”
“Possibly not,” he agreed, playfully winding my ponytail around his hand.
I stared at the pile of photos in front of me. “I shall take pictures,” I announced with a touch of theatre in my voice.
Adam grinned. “That’s what you do.”
“I’ll find a gallery to display my work,” I added. “I’ll become a household name.”
Either my ridiculous words or the dramatic spin I put on them made Adam laugh. “If anyone can do that, you can.”
I got off the floor and piled on top of him, straddling his body. “World domination has always been my plan,” I teased. “How about you, Boy Wonder? What’s your plan?”
With both hands, he grabbed the hem of my T-shirt and lifted it up. I raised my arms as he yanked it off me. “You’ve always been my plan, Charlotte,” he mumbled, levering himself up to kiss me.
***
After three days, I was able to convincingly cover my bruises with makeup. As soon as I was sure that I couldn’t be mistaken for a pirate, I was making plans to escape the apartment.
I walked the short distance from the bathroom to the bedroom, rattling off options for a day out, but Adam didn’t seem to be paying attention. He sat on the edge of the bed, tapping away at his phone.
“Are you listening to me?”
“Of course,” he mumbled.
“So you would have no problem with naked skydiving today?” I asked.
He looked up, frowning. “What are you talking about, Charli?”
“It doesn’t matter,” I grumbled. “You’re not listening to me anyway.”
He reached for my hand as I passed, pulling me down on the bed.
“I am,” he lied. “But I have to tell you something.”
It was a cover-my-ears-and-sing moment. The first word out of his mouth was Whitney.
Dim Whit epitomised a woman scorned. Adam confessed that he’d been on the receiving end of a barrage of phone calls and text messages since Christmas night.
“After all you’ve done to her, she still wants you back?”
Adam shook his head, frowning like he was in pain. “No. Not exactly.”
“Well, what exactly?” I practically growled the question at him. Trying to get information out of him was like pulling teeth.
“She wants to talk to me. I can’t imagine what we have to talk about.”
The blank expression on his face led me to believe he was telling the truth.
“And they say I’m naïve,” I muttered.
“What does that mean?”
I lay back on the bed, looking up at the ceiling, unsure whether I had any business coaching him. Against my better judgment, I answered him. “Adam, don’t you think you owe her an explanation? If I were her, I’d want answers.”
He fell backward, laying his head beside mine, draping his arm across my chest. “I’d be happy just to know what the questions are.”
I couldn’t give him any more hints than I had. Adam had treated Whitney abysmally. For that reason alone, she deserved an opportunity to tear shreds off him. But besides a pound of Adam’s flesh, there were other things Whitney wanted. In one particularly angry text message, she’d demanded the return of the belongings she’d left at Adam and Ryan’s apartment.
To me it seemed perfectly reasonable. To Adam it was a petty grab for attention. “None of this stuff is important to her,” he said waving his phone in the air. “This is purely designed to aggravate.”
Doing my best to ignore his tantrum, I kept my focus on the ceiling.
“It’s working, then, isn’t it?”
His demeanour changed instantly. “You’re right. I’m sorry. None of this is anything to do with you.”
“Stop involving me then,” I grumbled. “It’s not hard to fix this, Adam. Go to Ryan’s apartment, pack up her stuff and deliver it in person. All you have to do then is let her yell and scream for a while. Let her tell you what an insensitive jerk you are and be done with it. Just fix it, please.”
Meeting with Whitney, giving her the answers she was desperately seeking and returning her possessions was the decent thing to do. The Adam I knew would have realised that from the very beginning. The Adam who’d smashed Whitney’s heart to bits took a little more convincing.
Finally, I talked him round. He texted Whitney, suggesting they meet for lunch.
Her reply came quickly – yes.
***
Accompanying Adam to Ryan’s apartment hardly seemed like a good day out, but I went anyway, tired of being cooped up at home. Adam disappeared as soon as we got there, moving quickly to pack the few trivial belongings Whitney demanded to have returned.
Ryan found the whole situation very amusing. “Is this your way of exorcising demons, Charli?”
The cheeky question was asked only once he was sure Adam was out of the room. He wasn’t usually so cautious. I could only assume it was because he knew his brother wasn’t in the mood for cheap shots.
“It’s nothing to do with me.” I shrugged, faking indifference. “She wants her stuff back, that’s all.”
“Are you sure that’s all she wants back? I’m sure she couldn’t care less about a few books and a hairbrush,” he goaded.
“Are you going to be a pig to me all day?”
“No. I’m over it now.” He pointed toward the modish lounge suite. Perhaps that was my cue to sit. I ignored him.
Adam breezed into the room a short while later, carrying a half-full overnight bag. “I should go. The sooner I get this over with, the better.” He slowed his walk as he neared me, leaning over to kiss me. “I’ll see you when I get home.” I nodded and forced a smile. He slipped out the front door and I was left alone with the evil brother – whose mood seemed more evil than usual.
I tried to find a reason for it. “Are any crazy blonde women lurking in here, Ryan?” I quizzed, looking left to right.
“Only you,” he replied, flopping onto the couch.
“I don’t count.”
I finally sat, sinking into the soft new couch like I needed the rest.
“You seem awfully calm considering your new husband has just left to rendezvous with his ex.”
Only Ryan could make it sound so sordid. I decided to fight fire with fire. If rattling cages was the main agenda for the day, it was the perfect time to mention his tangled relationship with Bente.
“Ryan, I want to ask you something.” I turned my head to look at him. Seeing him squirm didn’t happen often. “What’s the story with you and Bente?”
As predicted, he shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “There’s no story,” he insisted. “We’re just friends.”
“With benefits?” I hinted. “I know you… spent time with her.” I couldn’t think of a nicer way of describing their cloakroom romp.
Ryan shook his head, looking to the floor. “I regret getting involved with Bente,” he said, choosing his words very carefully.
“Because you don’t like her?”
He looked at me, frowning like I’d just sworn at him. “No, Charli. I regret it because I do like her.”
His less than straightforward answer made complete sense to me. Bente was different from the run-of-the-mill high-maintenance girls he was used to. And Ryan, the man who insisted that love didn’t even exist, could see it.
I smiled at him. “You’re not so despicable after all.”
“Sometimes I try not to be,” he mumbled.
There were a million more questions I wanted to ask, but a knock at the door cut our conversation short. Ryan practically jumped off the couch, groaning as soon as he opened the door. I peeked over the back of the couch to see the source of his pain. Standing there, in a gorgeous full-length red coat, was Kinsey Ballantyne.
“I’m looking for Whitney. Is she her
e?”
“Sweetheart, so nice to see you,” said Ryan. “You should have called.”
“I did call,” she spat. “You hung up on me.”
“Oh, that’s right. Perhaps that’s because I detest the air you breathe.”
Kinsey pushed past him, inviting herself in. I slunk down in the couch, hopelessly trying to hide. “The feeling is mutual. Look, I’m just trying to track Whit down.”
“And why would you think she was here?”
Her long answer bordered on hysteria. Even without seeing her, I could tell her concern was genuine.
The last she’d heard, Whitney was planning to spend Christmas with the Décaries, still hopeful that she could work things out with Adam. Kinsey had unsuccessfully been trying to contact her ever since.
“Her parents are out of town. She’s alone and I can’t find her,” she rambled. “Coming here was a last resort. I can’t think of where else she’d be.”
Better than anyone, I knew how low the pit of despair could be when you lose the one you love. Hiding away was a coping mechanism. It made me feel absolutely wretched.
“Adam doesn’t even live here anymore, Kins,” said Ryan, remarkably gently.
“What?” She sounded shocked. “Where is he living now?”
He had a chance to be truly nasty but mercifully, he took the high road.
“He has a new apartment. Actually, Adam pretty much has a new life.”
Predictably, Kinsey demanded an explanation. I couldn’t leave it up to Ryan to explain. He would either lie or tell the truth. Neither scenario was pretty. Abandoning my cowardly hiding spot, I stood up, catching Kinsey so unaware that she jumped.
“Ugh! Do you make a habit of listening in on private conversations?” She didn’t wait for an answer. She turned her attention to Ryan. “You should keep a tighter leash on your dogs.”
“You’re in my house,” reminded Ryan menacingly. “Behave.”
“Look, do you know where Whitney is or not?”
Ryan glanced at me. “Do you know what a coup de grâce is, Charli?”
“You know I don’t,” I mumbled.
His ensuing smile was positively evil. “It’s a stroke of mercy, a deathblow used when putting someone out of their misery. Please put an end to this stupid charade.”