Chapter 17

Chapter Seventeen

Bess

C harlie opened the cabin door for me and I stepped in on shaky legs. I didn’t even know if I was shivering from the cold or something else. Everything felt messed up. Upside down. What was I supposed to do now? He’d made it past my every layer of defense and awakened my body, reminding me of everything I lived without. The heavy weight I lived under had lifted for a moment, only to come back down even heavier than before. In my endless daily struggle, I hadn’t thought much about all that I’d lost. Like sex. And now the unfairness of that had punched me in the lungs. I missed it so much. So much that I’d only needed one giant glass of wine to climb on the one guy who was strictly off limits.

“I’m going to need a shower,” Charlie announced, traipsing towards the bathroom. “A long shower.” He cast me a guilty smile over his shoulder.

Why couldn’t I be like that , I wondered. I collapsed into an armchair, staring at the half-empty wine bottle Charlie had left on the coffee table. If I’d only kept drinking, I might have dulled my prefrontal cortex for long enough to sleep with Charlie. But that much alcohol would have dulled my other senses, too, making the sex kind of pointless. Aging was a hoot. All that awareness, stealing the fun from bad decisions.

With or without wine, I felt too wired to go to sleep. I thought about my trusty vibrator, currently sitting at the bottom of my backpack, buried under everything else. How could I use it?

Resigning myself to a night of unfulfilled desires, I settled into the remarkably cozy chair, rested my head against the soft headrest, and closed my eyes. It was like riding a slowly rotating carousel.

At home, this moment would have been so fleeting. Within five seconds, Celia would climb into my lap, needing something, talking incessantly. She had a lot to say, and I tried to humor her, even when I didn’t fully understand. The girl could recount full episodes of her favorite cartoons and sometimes dreams, which often sounded similar. I was so used to being interrupted and needed that my body automatically tensed at the sound of the bathroom door.

With the wine still blurring my thoughts, it took me a moment to realize nobody would pounce on me. It was just Charlie, taking a shower. I heard the water running. What did he mean by a long shower? How long could it take?

Finally, my addled brain put together two and two. I sat up, my heart pounding. Could it be possible? Was Charlie taking care of himself in a see-through bathroom, a few feet away from me? I listened to the sound of running water, thinking of the way he’d smiled at me. The way he’d elongated the word ‘long’. Our previous activities.

Of course. Charlie wasn’t shy. If he wanted something, he went for it. Why would this be any different?

Sure, this was partly my fault. I’d climbed on his lap and rocked against that hard-on. Could I really blame him for masturbating in the shower? Somehow, having that three-quarter frosted glass as a bathroom wall made things so much more awkward. I couldn’t exactly pretend I didn’t know what was happening. If I stood up, I’d see his head behind the two sheets of glass, right above the edge of the privacy screen.

I wasn’t stupid enough to stand up, was I? The alcohol in my bloodstream loudly disagreed and I pushed myself up from the chair.

There he was, clear as day. Eyes closed, head tilted back, mouth ajar, with water running down his well-formed chest. The blurry image forming behind the privacy sticker gave my imagination everything it needed. Gasping for breath, I stumbled over to the kitchenette, turning on the coffee machine.

I didn’t drink coffee at night. I rarely ate, either, to avoid the pain of not burping, but I had to distract myself. I wasn’t embarrassed, I insisted. There was nothing embarrassing about pleasure, but the way he embraced it, like he embraced every good thing in life, made me sad for myself.

Why couldn’t I kick back and enjoy? Why did I have to be drunk to the point that words escaped me, to act on an impulse? And as soon as the effect of alcohol wore off, my brain turned on, keeping those impulses well and truly in check.

My phone pinged and I lunged for it, desperate for distraction.

Teresa: How’s it going over there? There’s a weird vibe at the office. No sign of Broken Arrow. Guess he’s not turning up at all anymore. Trevor is acting odd. Call me!

I stared at the phone, contemplating on what to say. I couldn’t risk calling. Charlie could hear me. And if Teresa found out Charlie was here with me, there was a chance rumors would start circulating. Could I trust her?

Bess: All good. Rubie Ridge is beautiful. Food is divine. Lots of art exercises and rich people in expensive clothes having a leisurely time. I miss Celia, though.

Teresa: I think George had a conference up there. Sounds like his kind of crowd. Try to enjoy!

My insides twisted. I needed a confidante, and Teresa was the closest thing to a friend I had. I couldn’t keep her completely in the dark.

Bess: Can you keep a secret?

Teresa: Cross my heart and hope to die.

Bess: Charlie is here. We’re sharing a cabin because it was the only one available.

I hit ‘send’ and stopped breathing, watching the three dots dancing on the screen.

Teresa: Whaaaaaat??? CALL ME NOW!

Bess: I can’t. He’s in the shower. It’s open plan, he’ll hear everything.

Teresa: Open plan? You’re sleeping in the same room? SAME BED?

Bess: I’m in the loft.

Teresa: Why is he there? Is he putting the moves on you? Are you okay?

Bess: I’m fine. It’s a bit weird. I’ll tell you later.

Teresa: I have so many questions. Call me as soon as you can, okay? Until then, I’ll be on tenterhooks, unable to eat or sleep. So, make it soon.

I could only hope she was exaggerating. Teresa had a flair for drama.

Bess: I promise.

My mind going around in circles, I turned on the coffeemaker. It resembled the one in the office, and my hands worked on autopilot, making a batch of coffee for the entire production team. Oops.

Well, it had a thermos pot so maybe it would keep for a while. I’d drink the rest cold the next morning, I decided. I counted three complimentary coffee bags. Could I swipe one for home? It’d last me at least a week.

When had I turned into this desperate person with a scarcity mindset? I’d learned about these things. I’d become poor later in life, after being educated, working, and earning decent money. With Jack still working for a shipping company and me freelancing, with no kids to feed, we’d been doing fine. Buying what we wanted. Traveling. Upgrading our phones.

Now, I couldn’t stop my thoughts from running down that track. The fear of falling off that metaphorical cliff kept me moving and dictated my decisions. Somehow, along the way, I’d stopped enjoying things, even when they were free. Instead, I grasped at everything in desperation. I wanted to try every food they served at this place, or better yet, store it in my cheeks like a chipmunk. My mind screamed, ‘Take it! Store it!’ but did I enjoy it? I was too worried about running out, being back in that place of panic.

I was protecting myself and my daughter. It made sense. Yet, I could see joy slipping through my fingers. I couldn’t hold onto it. I couldn’t be spontaneous or brave. That was the old me, the one who’d had the freedom and the safety net. And most importantly, a husband who was full of faith and optimism. And idealism. Until he wasn’t. Charlie reminded me of Jack, and that scared me the most.

Charlie wasn’t a safe option. He wasn’t an option at all. I needed my job, and getting involved with the boss’s perpetual bachelor son was the absolute worst idea. I’d lose the respect of my colleagues. And what happened after, when Charlie got tired of me? Granted, he might tire of me during this week so it would all be over by the time we returned to the office. That was probably the best-case scenario.

No. The best scenario was that we both stuck to our agreement to pretend the hot tub incident never happened and went back to being colleagues. Maybe some sort of awkward friends.

What else could we ever be? Charlie didn’t commit. Teresa had told me he didn’t even bring a date to any event. He arrived by himself and took his pick, each time leaving with someone new.

I took my fresh coffee and tiptoed upstairs, carefully listening to the sound of running water. Charlie was delivering on his promise of a long shower. Had he already orgasmed and was now shampooing his hair? I really needed to stop picturing it.

As I sat on the edge of the sofa bed, the sound of water cut off and the door creaked.

“Do you need a shower?” He called from downstairs.

I was still in my damp swimsuit, wrapped up in the bulky bathrobe. That spa pool probably wasn’t the cleanest. “Um… maybe. Sure.” I returned downstairs with my coffee and fetched my towel. “I made coffee if you want some.”

“Thanks.” Charlie stood in front of me, a towel wrapped around his waist.

My eyes dipped to his crotch without my permission, taking in the slight bulge. Did he still have a hard-on? How was it possible?

I left my coffee on its namesake table and hurried to the bathroom, throwing one quick glance over my shoulder. I wasn’t even sure why, maybe to memorize the sight of him in a towel, but he took it as hesitation.

“Don’t worry. I rinsed the tiles.”

Heat engulfed my cheeks like a sudden flame. “Oh, my God Charlie! You don’t have to be that graphic.”

He raised his brows, the picture of innocence. “I mean there shouldn’t be any hair or soap or anything. I know it’s awkward to share a bathroom with a guy.”

“Ah, okay. Thanks,” I said in a strangled voice, hoping the bathroom door would lead me to an alternate dimension, free of all the Charlies of the world.

But before I could step through the portal, he wedged himself between me and the door. “I’m just messing with you, Bess. I came all over that shower cubicle,” he whispered, “thinking of you.”

His hot breath mixed with mine, creating a whirlpool of confusion. I so wanted to be someone else, someone who seized the moment and ripped that towel off his sculpted body.

“I’m glad I could help,” I whispered back. “But didn’t we agree to pretend nothing happened?”

He raised his right hand like swearing an oath. “Nothing happened between us. But I can still be turned on by you, right? I can’t rip out my eyes. Every new thing I learn about you… I can’t help it, Bess. You’re an enigma. A sexy enigma.”

I felt so warm all over that I could barely stand. I didn’t have to, though. My body had already mastered gravity and was floating an inch off the floor. My hands twitched in their frantic need to touch him. To be touched. But as I launched into a movement, he stepped away, a sparkling smile on his face. “Enjoy the shower.”

I stepped into the bathroom, heaving in deep breaths. I’d never be able to resist Charlie. I was doomed.