I fight with warring emotions inside me. A slap in the face might have had less of a sting. There is static in my ears as Vivian talks -- thanking me for coming, I think. Jack is ready with my purse, coat, and Charlie’s laptop case, eager to see me off. He is practically shoving me out the door, but Vivian doesn’t seem to notice as someone else comes up to congratulate them. I offer a quick farewell, eager to be out of the room that suddenly is too hot and has too many people in it. I wrap my arms around Vivian, congratulating her and wishing them both a Merry Christmas before I depart, alone.
I’m so confused. Why did Charlie leave? Where did he go?
I can’t focus my emotions as I ride the elevator, which was empty but then picks up more people as we make our way to the ground floor. I’m angry and hurt. I feel betrayed and alone. It’s not just Jack and his meddling, but Charlie and his reaction to Ainsley. I try to reason that I should be patient, that I should give him time to open up about her, but I’m shaken by his reaction to her. Was that desire? Longing? Lust in his eyes?
I brace myself, stepping out into the cold street air. An errant taxi lays on its horn as a pedestrian takes their life in their hands by jaywalking against the light, taking their sweet ass time as they do it. The pedestrian doesn’t look up but, instead, flips the bird at the taxi as they continue to walk their way. I aspire to this level of unbothered; I need that level of unbothered right now. Pacing under the awning of the building is Charlie, running his hand through his hair. His eyes light up when he sees me and he hurries to my side.
“Oh, good, there you are!” he says as if I’m the one who has been missing this entire time. I chalk this up to Jack delivering the wrong message intentionally and let out a ragged breath. The devil works hard but Jack works harder. I resolve to not push it with Jack. If he wants to be a dick, fine, but I’m done trying if these are his tactics.
“Yeah, sorry, it’s hard to pee in this thing. You left.” There is a hint of accusation in my tone that I can’t keep out. Charlie glances up from ordering the PickMeUp!. I remain silent, hoping this will encourage him to talk. It’s almost midnight on Christmas Eve and I don’t know where we stand.
“I’m sorry,” he starts. “I’m sorry. I was so thrown off by Ainsley that I wasn’t thinking straight. I shouldn’t have left, but Jack said you were in the bathroom and it was too hot in there all of a sudden. So many people in that space, I mean. It had to break fire codes or something.” He brings his fingers up to his mouth, as if to take a drag from a cigarette, but nothing is there. I wonder if he used to smoke, adding it to the list of things I don’t know about him.
I open my mouth to say something when the car pulls up and we climb in. We’re silent in the car. This is not the place to have this conversation, to talk about seeing his ex-fiancée after his father said I’m not wife material.
I pick a mantra and repeat it in my head:You are smart and you are powerful and you have weathered worse storms. You are smart and you are powerful and you have weathered worse storms.
I repeat this over and over in my head as we slowly creep along, the traffic unbearable just to go through Central Park. We drive the transverse that our accident happened on and Charlie reaches for me, squeezing my hand. It’s obvious that his own memories of that night are surging up. We keep up the silence, even once we reach our building and ride the elevator to our floor. This silence is torture. I’m sure my face looks grim, no secrets hiding there. Catching sight of me in the mirrored wall of the elevator, Charlie runs his hands through his hair, leaving it in disarray. Once the apartment door is closed, I pause.
“What did you two talk about?”
His eyes fall on me. There is a level of exhaustion I haven’t seen on his face as he casts aside his laptop case and jacket. I wait anxiously for an answer. He toes his shoes off, leaving them on the rack. I do the same, taking off my jacket, leaving my purse on the island haphazardly.
“I honestly didn’t hear a word she said. I was too surprised to even really register her presence and then I left. I told Jack and Vivian that I had to leave and I did. It was just jarring to see her there.”
“Jack didn’t warn you?” I gather my dress in my hands, walking into the bedroom.
“Warn me?” he asks, pulling his tie loose.
Vivian’s warning echoes in my head; she was specific in saying that hedidn’tknow. But I feel like her tone, her wording, made it seem like he should have known before that party.
“That Ainsley was coming.” I set about getting ready for bed, a headache starting to form at the base of my neck. I shift my hair aside, stretching my shoulder to its limits while reaching for the zipper.
Charlie comes up behind me, his fingers brushing mine aside to take over. His lips brush the top of my spine as he slowly pulls the zipper down. Goosebumps break out on my arms as his hands follow my shoulder blades, pushing the dress off my shoulders so it slides off my body, pooling on the floor.
Under the dress, I had on a black lace teddy with an equally plunging neckline. He kisses the back of my neck, his hand tracing the inside edges of the teddy from my shoulder down to my breast. He pauses there, rubbing his thumb over my hard nipple, breathing heavily against my hair. I arch my back into him, desperate for him to continue. This is easier, connecting on a physical level rather than actually talking about anything.
“We’re not done talking about this,” I gasp out.
His hand finishes the trail to just below my navel, where he slides his finger in between the material and my skin. I should stop him, tell him we need to talk, but a gasp escapes my lips when he finds my clit, alternating circling and applying pressure. I lean my head back, resting against his collarbone as my breath starts coming out in quick, short bursts, matching the tempo of his fingers.
I spin around, kissing him passionately, my body primed for him. My nipples chafe against the rough lace and his body. He lifts me easily and I wrap my legs around him, still wearing my heels from the party. He carries me to bed, his hands gripping my thighs as he lowers me onto the pillows.
“I am not interested in Ainsley. I am not interested in talking to her. All I want, all I need, is right in front of me. If you think there is more to talk about, then we can talk about it, but right now, I want to focus on doing all the things I’ve thought about doing to you since I saw you tonight.” He unbuttons his shirt as he says this.
Stopping is not an option. Do we have things we still need to talk about, like his meddling best friend? Yes. Am I going to let that interfere in our relationship any more than it already has? Absolutely not.
I undo his belt, pulling it out, keeping my eyes locked on his. My fingers fumble as if these are the first pants I’ve ever undone and it makes me want to laugh and scream all at the same time. I roll over as he starts to pull his pants off.
“Going somewhere?” he asks, reaching for me. There is a hesitation in his voice, worried that he’s reading the conversation wrong, that maybe I do want to stop and talk about this. It’s been hot and heavy between us, physical and full of need. I keep my hips raised, my ass in the air for him to ogle. Thongs are probably the worst invention ever, as I have never found a pair of more uncomfortable underwear, but knowing that I have Charlie’s full attention on my ass makes it at least somewhat worth it.
I reach for the bottom drawer of my nightstand, grabbing some of the toys I bought. I pop back up with a riding crop and a strap that matches one I have already attached to the bed. When I turn, Charlie is in his boxers with an eyebrow raised.
“I didn’t realize you wanted to ‘Fifty Shades’ it.”
I smack him gently on the chest for that comment. “I don’t want to go all red room, unless that’s the other shoe that’s still got to drop. I thought it could be fun. That’s the best part of a new partner, right? Exploring what turns them on and what doesn’t. Merry Christmas,” I say as I grab the other strap from the opposite side of the bed.
“Merry Christmas, indeed.” He smirks, letting me push him down on the bed.