Chapter 33

Chapter Thirty-Three

Charlie

M y heart hammered, and I felt the panic tightening my chest. Time was up. She was leaving, and I hadn’t told her the truth. If she returned to work, she would hear about the restructuring. If she got her phone working, she’d probably hear about it on the drive home. And she’d instantly know I’d kept it from her.

I couldn’t let her leave.

I grabbed my phone and began searching through my contacts. I needed a favor, and there was only one guy I could trust.

“Can you turn around?” Bess asked, using the safety rail to limp her way to the toilet bowl.

I found a rain soundtrack on Spotify and maxed out the volume, making it sound like someone was showering.

“I feel like I’m peeing on a lower deck of the Titanic.”

“Did the lower decks have plumbing?” I asked, focusing my eyes on the phone screen.

Trevor was online, as usual, the three dots immediately popping up as I messaged him. The giant Scot wouldn’t leave me hanging. Thankfully, he was one of the irreplaceable ones, and not worried about the restructuring.

Charlie: Are you at work?

Trevor: Yes. People are going bonkers over here. Stay away.

Charlie: SOS. I need you to drive to Cozy Creek. Via a pharmacy.

Trevor: On my way. Send me the deets.

My shoulders dropped and typed the instructions.

I heard the tap over the rain soundtrack and turned around, holding up my phone. “There! I organized a driver to pick up the pill and meet us here. ETA two hours.”

She stared at me like I’d summoned a spirit out of the toilet bowl. “What? How?”

“Don’t worry about it. But now you don’t have to leave, right? We’re not in a hurry.” I took a tentative step closer, grasping her damp hands over the washbasin.

I wanted to lose myself in those eyes and experience even an inkling of what we’d shared in the forest. I would have taken ten percent. A few more minutes.

“What about my mom and Celia? They came all the way here.”

I’d already thought of it, and the words rushed out. “Invite them to stay! The cabin is paid for and has enough beds. I’ll clear out and book into somewhere in town. We can take Celia there tomorrow to see that Fall Festival. It looked cool. Do you think she’d like it?”

I thought about the hay bales, cute stalls, and the carousel. Kids loved that stuff, right?

“You’d do that?” She breathed the words in utter disbelief.

She had no idea what I was willing to do. No idea what an idiot I was.

“I’d rather do that than go back to our lives in Denver. Am I the only one?”

She placed her hands on my chest, her lips a breath away from mine. “No.”

Relief flooded my body. Suddenly, she was so close that everything became blurry. All I could think of was that mouth on mine, her spine curving against my arm as I pulled her flush against me. I held her slightly off the floor, making sure she didn’t place any weight on that injured leg, placing kisses down her neck and collarbone, inhaling deeply. “Bess,” I murmured. “Stay with me. Give me time. Let me show you…”

I lost my train of thought as she softly moaned under my touch.

Tears stung deep behind my eyes. I was holding on too tightly, too desperately. I feared hurting her, but at this rate, I was also going to get hurt.

Be cool, Charlie. You’re not like this.

My heart would not listen, and my arms grabbed onto her, holding even tighter.

It wasn’t only the upheaval at work I worried about. I’d seen the look in her eyes when she held her child. Despite all her challenges, her life was already full of meaning. She had a mother who loved her enough to personally show up. She was the entire world to her child. My family would send a helicopter, but I would go back to an empty apartment. Without her, I had nothing.

She wouldn’t risk even the tiny possibility of my seed growing inside of her, and that pained me more than I cared to admit. Not because I wanted a baby right now. But because it didn’t scare me like it scared her.

I knew I couldn’t make her see things from my point of view. We lived in such different realities. To her, another child equaled bankruptcy. And it was her body. But, I was desperate to hold on to what we had, now that she still responded to my touch. So, I kissed her again and again, working up a level of excitement that could only lead to frustration, enjoying every little sound from her throat, every time she relaxed a little more into my touch. Her tongue met mine in a slow game of chicken, neither of us willing to back down.

Maybe she wanted to hold on, too?

Finally, we ran out of breath and held there, her forehead pressed against mine, panting in unison.

“In different circumstances,” I said, “Would I be such a horrible candidate for a baby daddy?”

She let out a shaky laugh, pulling away to look me in the eye. “What?”

Hiding my gnawing anxiety under theatrics, I threw my arms out, eyes wide. “I’m serious! Am I such a horrible choice?”

Embarrassment reddened her cheeks. “I’m not looking for a baby daddy.”

“So… never again?” I wanted the truth. Even if it hurt.

“No, I mean… I wouldn’t want a baby daddy. Isn’t that someone you breed with who gives you money?”

I wanted to kick myself. “Fuck. I didn’t mean it like that. I meant… me, as a father. I don’t know. Maybe I’m totally delusional. It’s a lot harder than it looks, right?”

Her smile disappeared, and she looked at me for a long time, eyes narrowing and then widening again like she was having trouble reading something. I swallowed. Could she see the ball of anxiety in the pit of my stomach that reared its ugly head every time I thought about starting a family? I’d chickened out so many times, discouraged by my parents’ example. I didn’t want to breed children to heap them with money, privilege, and expectations. I didn’t want to be the father who used financial carrots to control their offspring.

“You really want a family, don’t you?” Her eyes regarded me with a sense of wonder. “But you’re scared.”

My lungs deflated. “Yeah.”

She smiled the sweetest smile I’d ever seen, one that crinkled the corners of her eyes and painted her whole face with sunshine. “Oh, Charlie! You’d be wonderful.”

“I hope so. I haven’t had the best role models. Except Gran.”

“Me, neither,” she admitted. “My father lives in Dublin with his new family. I barely see him.”

My heart squeezed. “That sucks.” I pulled her in for a hug. “Thank you for believing I could do better.”

“Easily.” She breathed deeply against my chest.

I inhaled the flowery scent of her hair, now mixed with pine and earth. I could smell the entire forest and mountains embedded in my Bess. She was my greatest adventure, and one day she’d accept it. I wanted to stay there forever, but we both knew the time was running out.

Reluctantly, I turned toward the door. “Shall we?”

She halted, looking at me for one last time. Silently acknowledging everything that had happened and that it’d be there, even when we found ourselves back in the real world, separated by work and responsibilities. At least that’s what I chose to believe.

I cracked the bathroom door, peering into the hallway. At first glance, it seemed empty. Whoever had been out there had become tired of waiting and left. But as I swung open the door, it hit something. Someone.

We rounded the door and discovered Ilme, our Estonian art teacher. She must have been running down the hallway at that exact moment, blindsided by the opening door. Her long, paint-adorned lab coat was open and her top knot had unraveled, hanging over her shoulder. Her eyes were red-rimmed, matching the color of her nose that appeared to be bleeding.

“Oh, my God! Ilme?” Bess hopped to the side to lean on the wall so I could help the teacher.

“I’m sorry!” I popped back into the bathroom to get her some tissues.

“Thank you.” She stuffed pieces into her nostrils to stop the bleeding. “It was my fault. I wasn’t looking. I’m quite upset.”

“Why? What happened?” Bess asked.

I sighed. There were only so many people whose problems I could handle at that moment. My troubled ladies’ dance card was full. But I could tell Bess had a soft spot for the Estonian teacher. And if she cared, I cared.

“I was fired.” Ilme sniffed. “I wasn’t pushing their products and catalogs. I told you guys to pick things from nature. Apparently, that’s not good for business.”

“That’s terrible,” I said lamely, lending one arm to support Bess and the other to pat Ilme on the shoulder as we made our way back to the dining hall. “I’m sure you’ll find another teaching job. There are lots of art schools.”

“So unfair!” Bess huffed. “Why would they do that? Why?”

The dining room was empty now, the buffet cleared away. Bess’s mom and Celia sat at the corner table, looking at something on a phone screen.

“Come sit with us,” Bess told her. “Let’s talk.”

Ilme nodded gratefully and joined our little table. Bess introduced her to her mom.

“Kathy,” she said, offering her hand. “Nice to meet you. I’ve never met anyone from Estonia.”

“That’s understandable. There are only 1.3 million of us.”

Kathy laughed a little, noticing her bloody nose, red eyes, and general shakiness. She exchanged a quick glance with us. Bess nodded at the same time I did, vouching for the misunderstood artist.

“I’m so glad you got back safely!” Ilme cast us a grave look. “They said it was my fault. If we’d ordered those expensive items from the catalog and never went outside, you wouldn’t be lost in the mountains and eaten by a bear.” She added a rare half-smile. “I’m being dramatic, sorry. I added the part about the bear.”

“It was definitely not your fault!” Bess’s eyes burned. “We didn’t get lost because we were collecting leaves or pinecones. We got lost because we were reckless.”

“I was,” I added, earning a sharp look from Kathy.

“But to lose your job over that... it doesn’t make sense!” Bess frowned, eyes flashing with the injustice of it. “I’d be furious.” She paused for a beat and the color drained from her face. “I’d be screwed.”

I swallowed a swelling lump. If she was this worked up over someone else’s temporary teaching job, what would she do when she found out about hers?

“It’s okay.” Ilme patted Bess’s hand, sensing she’d triggered something. “I’ll get paid. I’ll be fine, but I won’t be asked to come back. They don’t feel comfortable …” She flashed her eyes, elongating the word.

“Their loss,” Kathy said decisively. “I’ve been making art installations in public parks on a tiny budget for years. It’s so rewarding. Using nature as part of our creation… I love that! And being in a location like this, you should absolutely connect with the natural environment and use found materials. That makes so much sense.” She cast a dreamy look out the window, sighing at the scenery, and I saw my opportunity.