25. Charlie

It’s been hours since I last spoke with Marissa, and I can’t stop staring at my silent phone. She hasn’t responded to any of my messages, which is unsettling because she’s usually so punctual.

I’ve sent her texts asking what she would like for dinner, what time to expect her, and how she is doing. No responses. I’ve called her several times, but she hasn’t answered. At this point, my gut is churning with worry.

“Come on, Marissa,” I mutter under my breath as I pace by the window. “Where are you?”

I pace the hardwood floor, my sneakers tapping out a rhythm that does nothing to ease my worry. It’s not like Marissa to just ignore me like this. Something must be wrong, and every possible worst-case scenario is hammering away in my head.

As if on cue, my phone rings. My heart leaps into my throat, but when I glance down at the screen, it’s Isaac’s name staring back at me.

“Hey, Isaac,” I answer hesitantly, hoping he has some news about Marissa.

“Charlie,” he says curtly. “I’m calling to inform you that you’ll be working with a different agent from now on.”

I frown, confusion momentarily overtaking my concern for Marissa. “Wait, what? Why?”

He sighs, clearly annoyed. “It’s not up for discussion. You’ll receive more information tomorrow.”

“Wait a minute,” I say. “This has something to do with Marissa, doesn’t it?”

“Charlie, this is a business decision,” he replies, his voice cold and detached.

It doesn’t take long for the pieces to come together. Marissa warned me that Isaac wouldn’t approve if he found out our fake relationship had turned into something real.

“Isaac, I don’t understand. What happened?”

“None of your concern,” he snaps, clearly unwilling to divulge any details. “You’ll meet your new agent tomorrow. Thank you for your cooperation, Charlie.” And with that, he hangs up, leaving me with more questions than answers.

“Damn it,” I mutter, my fingers tightening around my phone.

Marissa must be in trouble, and it’s all because of me. I should have been more careful, should have listened to her concerns about keeping our relationship a secret.

The anger boils inside me, hot and relentless. I can’t let Isaac do this to us, to Marissa. My fingers tap furiously on the screen as I call him back.

“Charlie, we’ve already discussed this,” he snaps as soon as he answers.

“Listen, man. I won’t work with anyone else but Marissa,” I say firmly, my voice steady despite my racing heartbeat. “She’s the one who knows me best, who understands how to guide my career.”

Isaac scoffs. “You owe the agency a lot, you know. You think you can just make demands like this?”

“Actually, I owe Marissa,” I retort, gritting my teeth. “She’s the one who’s been by my side from the beginning, not Abernathy.”

“Fine,” Isaac spits out, venom dripping from his words. “But don’t come crawling back when things go south.” He hangs up before I can respond, leaving me staring at my phone in frustration.

I shove the phone back into my pocket and pace the room, my mind racing. The sun has set, casting long shadows across my living room floor. Dinner time has come and gone, and still no word from Marissa. My worry for her grows with each passing minute.

“Damn it, where are you?” I say, feeling powerless. My fingers hover over the screen again, hesitating before hitting the call button.

“Please, please, pick up,” I whisper, holding my breath as the phone rings and rings. But once again, there’s no answer. The cold silence of her voicemail greeting chills me to the bone.

“Marissa, please call me back,” I plead into the phone. “I need to know you’re okay. I talked to Isaac. I’m sorry about… what happened.”

As I end the call, the weight of the unknown presses down on me. Did Isaac fire her?

Grabbing my car keys, I jog out the door, every breath, every footstep pushing me forward with only one goal in mind. I have to get to Marissa’s side.

Thirty minutes later, I pull my car to a stop outside her apartment, the engine purring into silence as I take a deep breath. The worry gnawing at me all night doesn’t subside, and I can’t shake the feeling that something is horribly wrong.

“Here goes nothing,” I mutter as I step out of the car and make my way up the front steps.

With each knock on Marissa’s door, my heart pounds harder in my chest. Finally, after what feels like eons, the door creaks open.

“Charlie?” Her voice is weary, and her eyes are red-rimmed. “What are you doing here?”

“I’ve been worried sick about you,” I blurt out, my concern pouring through every word. “You haven’t been answering my calls or texts, and after talking to Isaac…”

“Isaac?” She flinches at his name, averting her gaze. “He figured it out, Charlie. He knows we’re really dating.”

My blood runs cold, and I grit my teeth. “What happened?”

“He said he was going to give you to another junior agent,” she explains, her voice cracking. “So I quit.”

“Quit?” I stare at her in shock, but instead of looking liberated or triumphant, she just seems upset.

She shrugs, avoiding my eyes. “Yep. That’s it.” Her laugh is dry. “My career is over.”

“Why would you say that?” I glance past her, into her apartment. “Can I come in?”

She ignores my second question. “Because that agency was the only chance I had. You were the only chance I had.”

“They’re not everything.”

“They might as well be,” she retorts, gripping the doorframe tightly. “Isaac holds all the cards, Charlie. He has everyone wrapped around his finger. He’s… he’s ruined everything!” Her voice breaks on the last word.

Her admission shakes me. This isn’t the Marissa I know — the girl who’d rather grit her teeth and keep fighting than admit defeat.

“Look at me,” I urge, my voice steady despite the tempest inside me. She does, and it’s like a punch to the gut. The defeat in her eyes burns worse than any physical wound.

“He hasn’t ruined everything,” I tell her flatly. I reach out to touch her arm, and she doesn’t pull away. “You’re more than this, Marissa.”

“You don’t understand,” she whispers, tears welling in her eyes. But instead of crying, she wipes them away with a fierce determination that makes my heart ache.

“I do understand,” I say, tightening my grip on her arm. “And we’ll figure this out together.”

A beat of silence settles between us, but then she looks away, saying nothing.

Something screws up tight in my chest. There’s more to this. But what is it she’s holding back?

“Your career isn’t over,” I say, trying to console her as I reach for her hand.

But she pushes me away, her eyes filling with tears. “You convinced me to go out last night, Charlie. You didn’t care about what I had to lose, and now it’s all gone!”

Her words sting but I hold my ground. “Listen to me, Marissa. I’m not going to work with any other agent. I’m staying with you, no matter what.” I try to offer her a reassuring smile, but she doesn’t seem to care.

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” She scoffs and folds her arms. “You didn’t listen to my concerns about going out together. You dismissed me, Charlie.”

“I know.” I take a deep breath. “I never meant for any of this to happen. I’m sorry.”

“Save it,” she snaps, turning away from me. “Just save it and… leave. I don’t want to see you anymore.”

Walking away from her isn’t easy. It never is. But in this moment, it feels impossible.

“Marissa…” My voice strains with the effort of holding back a thousand unspoken words.

She doesn’t even turn to look at me.

“Marissa, please,” I whisper, my heart breaking as I reach for her hand again. But she shakes her head, closing the door between us and leaving me standing alone on her doorstep, feeling more lost than ever before.

I feel like an unwelcome guest at a funeral, watching someone grieve but unable to offer any real comfort. There’s nothing else I can do for now. With one last lingering glance in her direction, I turn on my heel and drag myself out of her apartment building, fighting down the urge to run back and convince her I didn’t mean to hurt her.

In my car, I slam the door shut with too much force, shattering the silence of the night with a reverberating thud. My hands grip the steering wheel tightly, knuckles turning white under the strain.

I messed up. Big time.

Why can’t she see how sorry I am?

The moment I ask the question, I know the answer. It’s because I’m Charlie Elwood, the guy known for his screw-ups.

Never the guy known for making things right.

So why should Marissa believe I’m sorry? It’s not like I have a great track record.

Feeling like the biggest loser in the world, I start my car and drive off, leaving my heart behind in a little apartment on the edge of the city.