One Golden Summer(98)

“I could never feel sorry for you,” I try to joke.

But Charlie steps closer, eyes darting between mine. “What if something had gone wrong? Or what if something does go wrong in the future? It’s possible. There could be complications. I may need another surgery in twenty or thirty years, and I won’t be as strong as I am now. I watched what losing my dad did to my mom.” He looks to his feet. “I’m not worth that kind of pain, Alice.”

“You can’t live in the what-ifs, Charlie. You’re here. I’m here. I wish your mom were here, too.”

His brows knit together. “Why?”

“Because I think she’d tell you how wrong you are. I think she’d tell you that all the pain and grief were worth every minute she had with your dad.” I put my hand on his cheek. “You’re worth it, Charlie. Whether you believe it or not.”



* * *





The next day, I get a phone call from a frantic-sounding Sam. “Alice? Hi. We’re on our way to the hospital.”

I jump to my feet. Charlie is being released today. “What’s happened? Is he okay?”

“Yes. Shit. Sorry. Percy’s water just broke, and her contractions are only a few minutes apart. We’re not going to Charlie’s hospital. We’re on our way to Mount Sinai.” Percy lets out a string of profanities in the background. “I’m supposed to pick Charlie up in thirty minutes,” he says, panicked.

“I’ll be there,” I say. “Don’t worry about any of it.”

“Thank you. I owe you.”

“Take a deep breath, Sam,” I tell him. “You’re going to be a dad.”

I hear him breathe. “Thanks, Alice. I’ll keep you posted.”



* * *





I find Charlie in his room. In the days he’s been here, his hair has become shaggy. He has a beard. He’s wearing the clothes I packed for him to come home in—his favorite comfy pants and a loose-fitting buttoned shirt that won’t aggravate his incision site.

“Upstaged by your niece, huh?”

He smiles—a gorgeous, golden Charlie smile. “The nerve of that girl.”

“Complete monster,” I agree.

“I was hoping she’d arrive on my birthday. I had big plans for an annual October sixteenth party.”

“I know. But you’ll only be a week apart. I’m sure you can split the difference.”

“Thank you for coming,” he says.

“I told Sam we should just put you in a cab, but he was insistent.”

Charlie laughs, and I pick up his overnight bag. “Come on. Let’s get you home.”





51


Thursday, October 9

Nine Days After Charlie’s Surgery

Charlie and I step into his stunning condo. He has a penthouse suite on the twenty-eighth floor, with an astounding panoramic view of the city. Everything is glossy black and brass, with just a few modern dashes of pale oak, and high coffered ceilings. Even the kitchen is black on black. But the space is still warm with light gleaming off the surfaces. There are soft velvet pillows and leather seating and a thick rug in front of a glass-surrounded gas fireplace in the center of the living room.

It’s photo shoot–ready, but it also felt a little lifeless, so I put flowers in the kitchen, the living room, and beside his bed. I’ve placed tiny white pumpkins down the center of his dining table. I bought a few magazines and books I thought he might like and arranged them on his coffee table. I didn’t need to clean. The place was spotless.

“Thank you for the flowers,” he says. “And the pumpkins.” Charlie opens the fridge and shakes his head. “And all of this.” His voice is thick.

“I figured it was the least I could do given everything you did for me and Nan. She’d like to come visit, by the way. When you’re ready.”

“I’d really like that.” He turns to me, eyebrows lifted. “What do you think of it?”

It’s another thing we haven’t spoken about—that I’ve spent hours in his home without him. His building is far nicer than mine. It has an art deco vibe, and the lobby looks like a five-star hotel’s. There’s an indoor pool on the second level and a lush garden with bubbling fountains on the fifth. Even the hallways are elegant, with wainscoting and sconces that cast flattering dim light.

“It looks like a high-end porn set,” I tell him. “I was surprised your bed wasn’t circular.”

He laughs, then winces at the pain.

“I’m kidding. It’s a very swanky bachelor pad. It suits you.”

Charlie studies me, frowning slightly. “It’s weird to see you here. You’re out of context.”

“You’ll get used to it, but I’ll take that as my cue. You need to rest. Call me if you need me.” I unblocked his number eight days ago.

I lean in to kiss his cheek goodbye, and just before my lips brush his skin, he turns his head. His eyes lock on mine. “Stay.”

I hesitate.

“You can sleep in the guest room. I don’t want to be alone. I don’t want you to go.”

“I don’t think so,” I whisper. I want to be a good friend, but spending the day and night together, even in separate rooms, doesn’t feel right. “I don’t think I can go that long acting like things haven’t changed.” And I want to give Charlie time to heal before we talk about us.