12. Twelve

twelve

Charlotte

"I'm so happy you let me in and let me hang out for a while," Blaire said later that night, giggling on my couch as she brought what had to be her twentieth glass of wine in the last three hours up to her mouth and sucked it down.

"You're welcome," I said sweetly, giving her a smile that didn't quite reach my slowly tightening eyes.

Jesus, fuck.

Blaire was so trashed; she was seconds away from shattering the wine glass just by simply trying to put it on my center table.

"I'm happy to have you. Would you—uh, like some water, Blaire?"

Finally, she got the glass on the table, and then offered me a shy, embarrassed frown as she tilted back and sank sideways onto the corner cushion.

"I'm sorry. It's just been so long since we've got to hang out outside of work, and you know, with Karl's arraignment, I figured you could use a little emotional support."

"You're not bothering me, Blaire. I was only asking because you still have to drive home tonight and you just said it yourself, you are hitting the booze pretty hard."

"Good thing we don't have kids then," she said in a slow, drunken chuckle. "This couch is so comfortable I could just crash right here. But yes, to answer your question, I'd love some water."

"I'll go grab us a pitcher."

I wasn't trying to sound like or be a bitch. I truly meant well, and typically I was fabulous company to be around, but sometimes words had this nasty habit of coming out and sounding so much harsher than they did when I first envisioned them in my head. I held nothing personal against Blaire. She was my coworker, my friend, and I really enjoyed getting together to have a few drinks when I could. Today was actually the perfect day for it. My emotions had more or less spiraled this morning after Karl's arraignment, and after finally gaining the courage to speak privately with Harley, she ordered me to take a few personal days off and promised she'd call if there were any major breaks in Delilah's case. I refused it at first because I just wanted the day, not two or even three, but it wasn't like I could tell the woman I was fighting so hard to be her assistant wingman to shove those personal days up her ass, so, I reluctantly took the time off. Since this morning, I'd gone home and taken a shower, napped for a while, and then texted Peter asking him to come over later tonight after he got off work. Blaire showed up not long after that with about ten different boxes of Chinese food and two cases of wine. All we'd been doing for the last three to four hours was binge drink wine, eat, and watch bullshit love stories on Lifetime.

I didn't mind it though. Blaire was right. It had been a while—months, in fact, since we"d gotten any girl time to gossip or focus on anything else other than work. That was also part of the reason I asked Peter to come over. He and I still had a lot we had to sort through with Karl.

I finished filling the water pitcher and like a thoughtful host, brought it with two empty glasses balanced in my other hand inside the living room. Blaire's eyes were glued to some random Cinderella retelling that had just started playing on the TV. I poured her water and gave it to her and then plopped back down beside her.

"How are things coming with the Hamilton case?"

Okay, okay, fine. You caughtme. Conversing about cases and clients to others was not only completely inappropriate but strictly forbidden given the attorney-client privilege. But let's just be real here, it happens quite often than many are led to believe, especially amongst other lawyers who just so happen to be close friends.

"Don't even get me started," she scoffed. "You've handled all the actual work aspect of it, but now what I'm basically doing is sitting around in a cold conference room, listening to my very guilty client rant and rage over how the accident wasn't his fault, and over how I need to get off my ass and do something to help him. Like dude, you were the one who put that bottle to your lips and chose to drive. There's no way in fucking hell I can guarantee you a reprimand when your BAC is three times the legal drinking limit."

I tried not to chuckle but honestly couldn't help it. I knew exactly how she felt. Mr. Hamilton was an absolute nightmare to deal with and was the sole reason I'd originally taken that case off Blaire's hands. My fuse was quite a bit bigger than hers when it came to the more challenging, or in Mr. Hamilton's case, temperamental, rich clients of Seaview Pines. I felt bad I had to throw all of that madness back on her shoulders, but it was too late now and there was nothing I could do about it.

"What about you?" she asked, sipping her water. "How's it going with your case?"

"Honestly," I started with a deep sigh, "I really don't know. We've been making some progress, but the problem is we really don't have shit aside from DNA, and no, there wasn't a match in CODIS. Whoever committed this crime doesn't appear to have a record, but he's definitely done his homework and seems to know what he's doing."

It was ridiculous. I'd spent hours on the computer, ingested health concerning amounts of coffee, and painfully expelled what had to be gallons upon gallons of caffeinated piss in my toilet just to come up fucking emptier than a pauper's purse. I hoped the detectives were having better luck because as much as it internally butchered me to say it, I had a horrible feeling this case was falling downhill faster than a knife fight in a phone booth.

"That's rough," Blaire said with a pout. "I'm sorry. And hey, no offense, but I really don't want to talk about work. I want to talk about you and how you're doing now that Karl's arraignment is over."

I sighed. I may as well. I mean, it wasn't like I'd been trying to avoid the conversation since she got here.

"I guess I'm doing okay." I shrugged, because I knew there wasn't shit else I could do except to take each day as it comes. It was no different than what I'd been doing for the last soon to be eight months now. "It hurts. Things should've never turned out this way."

"What happens now that he has to wear an ankle monitor?"

I curled into the nearest cushion, making myself comfortable. "Well, as long as he doesn't attempt to remove it or violates the restraining order by coming within a hundred feet or less of wherever I am, then nothing will happen. If he does, then, I guess I'll have to do what I probably should've done this morning and throw his ass in jail."

"Those restraining orders are a bullshit asset to our legal system and do absolutely no fucking good. You know just as well as I do that Karl can still stalk you right outside your house, or anywhere really, just so long as he doesn't ‘fuck up' by getting too close. You know guns are a thing, right, Charlotte? You don't have to be standing a hundred feet away in order to shoot and kill somebody."

"I'm aware." I turned away and allowed the tears building under my lids to slip out and fall freely. "Thanks, Blaire."

"I'm not trying to upset you, Char. I guess what I'm saying is that maybe it would help if I understood the real reason why you changed your mind after everything he's done. I know you don't like talking about it, but could you at least try for me? Please?"

"Everyone looks at Karl now and sees a monster, but what everyone also refuses to understand is that I was married to him for over ten years. That's a long time, Blaire. Karl has always been a good man to me since the first day I met him, and the only reason any of this happened is because he cheated on me with a fucking nineteen-year-old, whom I never would've known a goddamn thing about if it weren't for him running a red light and hitting another car."

I paused, needing a minute to breathe so I wouldn't completely combust into tears.

"Well, as you know, she died on impact. And then Karl lost his promotion and got booted back down to street traffic duty with the rookies. I filed for divorce. I quit speaking to not only him but to my parents as well. During the divorce they were trying to do or say any little thing they could to make me take every dime of money Karl had to his name and leave him slap broke with nothing but the clothes he had on his back. There's more, but those are just some out of the many reasons why I dropped the charges."

I looked at Blaire and found her gaping back at me like she still didn't fully understand.

"I told you, I'm not a monster. Aside from Karl hitting me that one time and of course, the cheating, he's never physically hurt me. I know I should want him to hurt and that I should want to ruin him like everyone has been telling me to, but it's just not that simple when it comes to someone you've loved and spent a good chunk of your life with. The reason Karl has been so hostile lately is because he wants to talk to me, I guess to reconcile just like he did all the other times he"s claimed he wanted to talk, and I've been telling him to fuck off and leave me alone. I'm hurting, yes, but the sad truth is, he's lost a lot more than I have recently, and I'm not about to purposely ruin his life all because he cheated and broke my heart. I want to give him a chance to move on and let me go the right way, not only out of respect for him but because of the simple fact that I really don't want to put his ass in jail if I don't have to. If he doesn't listen, then well, I guess I'll do what I have to do. I just don't want it to result to that. I really don't."

Blaire sprung forward and wrapped me in a tight embrace. "When you put it that way, it makes a lot more sense now. I'm sorry, Charlotte, I-I really am. You're a good person."

"I try to be." I chuckled, reaching up to knuckle the tears under my eyes away before I pulled back, giving her the best smile I could muster.

"Forgive me for asking, but it's been how long since you two split?"

"Coming up on eight months now."

"Have you… You know…" She waggled her brows at me. "Gotten any during the separation?"

"Oh." Heat scorched against my cheeks like someone had just snatched my head and tugged it over a freshly lit grill. "I love you, Blaire, you know that, but I don't see how that's any of your business."

She sat up straighter and had the audacity to scoff at me. "Bitch, you're thirty-three and I'm thirty-five. We're grown, this is juicy shit, and you know my husband is deployed in Iraq and won't be home for another six to eight months. All I have to keep me company is my book boyfriends and sex toys. If you're fucking someone, just say you're fucking someone… And then give me all the dirty details."

"Blaire."

"It's just sex, Charlotte. Everyone has it, does it, experiences it, whatever. Come on. Loosen the hell up a little and just talk to me."

"Fine." I shook my head, knowing she wouldn't let it go until I gave her something. "No. I haven't slept with anyone."

"Bullshit," she coughed with her curled fist under her mouth, straining not to grin at me in her drunken state.

"You're drunk, Blaire."

"I am drunk, that is true, and you're a liar. You're fucking someone and I want to know who it is."

"Only thing touching this pussy are these three girls here." I raised my hand up and wiggled my middle, ring finger, and thumb around.

"Bull. Shit." She grinned at me, still not buying it despite how good I was doing at almost having her convinced. "Tell me his name. Just tell me his name and I swear I'll leave you alone."

"Who said it's one guy?"

"Bitch." She put her water down and grabbed ahold of my shoulders, shaking me with her eyes blown wide with sheer excitement. "Tell me everything."

"You're so fucking gullible."

I wiped another round of tears out of my eyes and shook my head at her, cackling so hard I snorted.

"What the fuck ever. If you don't want to tell me, then fine. Just because everyone is entitled to their privacy doesn't mean others won't find it interesting or maybe a little on the sexy side."

Blaire fell silent for a moment, then looked up and locked eyes with me like I was some random rodent she'd just caught pissing all over her brand-new tire.

"It's Peter. You've been secretly screwing Peter all this time, haven't you?"

"You're not serious." I scoffed, blinking at her in total disbelief. "Have you lost your mind?"

She snorted and shook her head at me like I was an idiot. "He likes you, Charlotte, and I see how you two are around each other when he comes by the office. I just don't understand why you won't—"

"Because Peter and I are friends and will always and only be friends."

I wasn't sure what ever it was she may or may not have seen that had given her the impression I was interested in Peter, or him with me, but she was far off because in my eyes, Peter was nothing more than a massively overprotective brother who severely pissed me off on occasion.

"Okay, fine," Blaire whined. "So, you mean to tell me you aren't interested in anybody? I mean, I know shit's been rough, but eight months is a long time to self-soothe an aching appetite only a dick can cure. Trust me, I'd know."

I sighed, and instead of answering right away, I leaned over to the center table and filled my empty glass with water, sipping it for a minute. I wished I could tell her about Spike and Phoenix and all about this new wild and exciting ride I'd been experiencing, but I'd learned the hard way months ago about spilling any specifics to her about my personal life.

As much as I loved Blaire, she had quite a ridiculous and annoyingly nasty habit of spreading anyone and everyone's personal business around the firm. When I'd finally convinced myself to file for divorce, aside from Peter, Blaire was the only person I'd told at the time. Come the next day, everyone knew my marriage had fallen to shit. If I told her about Spike, Phoenix, The Flirty Sanctum, and that I'd done the most stupid shit ever by giving them my phone number last night, then my career, my reputation, and everything I'd ever worked so fucking hard for would be over.

I'd be ruined.

"I don't know what you want me to say, Blaire. Eventually, I'll get back out there but for now, I just want to focus on my career. You know Harley still hasn't hired anyone to fill that ADA position yet."

She widened her eyes at me. "I know. You're gunning for it, right?"

I nodded despite my frown. "Trying to, yeah. I hope we manage to catch a huge break in this case. If we do, and this shit makes it to trial…"

I closed my eyes and blew out a sharp breath.

"I want this, Blaire. I want this more than I've ever wanted anything in my entire life. It's my dream. Unfortunately, I don't think I'll get it. More than likely she'll offer it to you or Perry."

Blaire laughed like I'd just told the most comedic joke she'd ever heard. "I don't want that shit. I barely get enough sleep as it is. Besides, once Carter comes home from deployment, more than likely we'll be moving again. But Perry?"

She raised her brows like it was her way of asking if I was being serious.

"No, honey, Perry won't land that promotion over you. He may be a good lawyer and is a tad bit better at handling heavier workloads than the rest of us, but you've been at the company longer, have far more experience, and there's still the exam you have to consider. Plus, it wasn't Perry Harley trusted to work the rape case. It was you, and I think she did it for a reason."

"You mean like a test?" My heart jumped to my throat at the prospect.

"It's possible, yeah," she nodded. "Think about it. There's a reason Harley keeps putting off hiring someone to fill that spot. It's been open for months now, so she's either in no rush whatsoever to bring in fresh meat, or she already has her sights set on someone. I mean, don't take this to heart because we both know I could be wrong, but it's very possible that person is you, Charlotte. You may not have any control over what happens during cases but what matters the most is how you do your job and how you present yourself amongst the court. You're amazing, Charlotte. You're damn good at your job and Harley knows it. She'd be a fucking idiot not to offer you that position."

"Thanks, Blaire. That really means a lot." I scooted in and hugged her, holding on for barely a minute when my doorbell rang, and three heavy knocks pounded against my front door.

Shit.

"That's Peter," I told Blaire as I got up and made way for the door, punching in the code on the alarm. "I texted him earlier and told him to come over so we could talk about Karl."

"Do you need me to go?" she asked.

"You need to drink about twenty more glasses of water before I consider letting you go anywhere."

"Okay, Mom," she hooted. "Whatever you say."

I hid my smile and then opened the door.

That same smile fell as I took in the disappointment thronged along Peter's face when he saw Blaire on the couch.

I guess he must not have read the other text I sent him telling him she was here.

"Are you okay?" I asked him.

"Yeah," he answered, his gaze softening when his pupils met mine. "Just tired. It's been a long day. Do you want to do this another time?"

I shook my head and opened the door wider. "Not at all. Come on in."

"Do me a favor, will you?" he asked, hissing slightly as he walked inside and handed over his leather briefcase. "Open that up and grab my—"

"Oh my God, Peter," I squealed, my eyes widening in horror as I took in the damage just under his glove and on his wrist.

I met his gaze again, my lips parted.

"My lotion," he softly demanded. "I need it. It's bad."

"Another flare?"

I took the briefcase and rushed inside the kitchen, pushing some of the Chinese food boxes on the island aside and depositing the case on top. I opened it up and immediately found the medicated lotion, grabbing it as Peter hissed more as he struggled taking off his black gloves.

"Here, let me help."

I put the lotion down, then gasped when I pulled the first glove off and found every crevasse of his hand red, swollen, cracked, and on the verge of bleeding. His other hand was worse, so as fast as fucking possible, I squirted the lotion on both his palms and got to work massaging the medicine in on all the uglier spots first.

"More like constant flares," he said, sighing in relief the more I massaged the lotion into his hands. "You seriously have no idea how painful this shit can be at times."

"I'm sorry. Is this helping any?"

"The lotion takes time to work, but yeah, you're helping me in more ways than I have enough thanks to express."

Sometimes I had no idea how he got through the days. Peter had the worst case of eczema I'd ever seen. Not only did his skin severely itch, but sometimes it was completely incapable of retaining moisture and would dry out, crack, bleed, you name it. Occasionally his flares would affect his face and nose, but it was always his hands that got the shit end of the stick.

"The point of the lotion is to use it consistently," I kind of snapped at him. "Which I assume you haven't been doing given how bad your hands are."

"Let me remind you that our healthcare system is shit and that money doesn't grow on trees. That lotion costs a pretty penny even with my insurance, which is damn good, by the way."

"But are you doing it consistently? Are you using it when you really need it the most?"

He looked away from me.

"God damnit, Peter!"

"It's not like I can just keep caking the shit on my skin, Char. I've been portioning to make it last as long as I can. Unless you're willing to rob countless pharmacies or can miraculously produce the money to keep me stocked long-term, then there's nothing I can do. I wish the doctor would just prescribe me a year supply instead of forcing me to do this month-by-month bullshit."

A faint sound met the air, almost like a snore. Peter and I both whipped around to the living room to find Blaire passed out on the couch, her head on the arm rest and her mouth open wide.

Well, shit. That was fast.

"Damnit, Blaire," I muttered.

"Problem?"

"No, not really, I guess. I just wasn't planning on having her stay overnight."

"Are you sure you don't want to wait and do this another time? I mean, you pretty much know what to expect and what'll happen if he violates the restraining order. There's nothing really more I can tell you that you don't already know."

"I'd like to go over it one last time, just so I know exactly what my options are, and what to do just in case Karl decides to do something stupid again. I'm not saying he will. I have a feeling he'll listen this time around, especially now that he has to walk around with a computerized tracker locked around his ankle. I'd rather be safe than sorry, that's all."

"Okay," Peter nodded, offering me a kind smile. "We can do that." Without touching the bags, he shifted his head forward and kind of eyed around what he could see of the contents, licking his lips. "I'm so sorry to ask, but is there any way I could maybe have some of whatever that is? I skipped lunch today and I'm starving."

I chuckled and walked over to the cabinet, grabbing a plate for him. "I'll make you something while the lotion dries. Blaire didn't exactly know what I liked Chinese wise, so she kind of went a little crazy. Hell, if you want, you can take some of it home with you. There's no way I'll be able to eat all of it, and I doubt Blaire will either."

"Yeah, I'll take some home with me."

"Good." It took me a few minutes but once I was done, I moved his briefcase off the island and sat his food down in front of him. "Dinner is served, my friend."