“What the hell are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about how you never once made me feel good about myself while we were together. You talk about how hard your life was…well, have you noticed mine?” I ask, waving my arms around.
“You’ve changed,” he says with a grimace, and I laugh.
“Yeah, I guess I did. Because if you think your dad is such a freak, then I am too.”
He stands in a rush with his eyes wide. “Charlie…” There’s a tone of warning in his voice. “Have you been to that club?”
“Yeah…I have, and I’m not ashamed.” It takes everything in me to hold my shoulders back and look up into Beau’s eyes proudly as I say it. He’s scrutinizing me, letting this new information sink in, like he’s literally imagining me doing whatever freaky shit he thinks happens at that club.
I wish I could tell him more, but I realize that it doesn’t matter what Beau thinks, not anymore. The Charlie four months ago would have never admitted to this, and maybe if Beau had told me about his dad while we were dating, I would have thought the same thing he does. But that was before Emerson opened my eyes. Not to the club—but to myself.
I have someone who really treasures me now, who sees something in me when he looks at me that I never saw in myself. Who makes me feel smart and sexy and perfect.
And at the end of the day, I’d rather be Emerson’s pet than Beau’s girlfriend.
“Tell me the truth right now,” he demands. “Are you sleeping with my dad?”
I scoff, shaking my head. “No,” I reply with conviction, because I’m not. But I really fucking wish I were. “Beau…” I take a deep breath, before continuing, “I love you. I’ll probably always love you because I know there’s good in there, but you and I are never going to work. I’m sorry.”
I expect him to lash out, but he doesn’t. I think he’s still reeling from the Charlie goes to a sex club information. Instead, he looks defeated. “There’s someone else, isn’t there?”
For a moment, I’m taken aback. That’s what he got from this conversation? I don’t answer, and it’s enough to confirm his suspicions. There’s sort of someone else. And it may not be a relationship—hell, it may never be a relationship—but it works for me. I watch his expression for a moment to make sure he doesn’t suspect that that someone else is his dad, but he doesn’t really say anything else. He just looks…sad.
After I broke up with Beau, I was finally alone with myself, and I realized how much I missed…me. Because I didn’t exist around him. He existed as the center of my universe, and I was his shadow.
“Let me take you home,” I say, touching his arm.
He nods solemnly.
Sophie isn’t outside when we leave, but I wish she was. I want her to see him leaving, so she knows this really isn’t what it looks like.
In the car, Beau is quiet. His mom’s house is on the opposite side of town. She lives in a quaint bungalow. I never met either of his parents before we broke up, but just the idea of meeting her, this woman who was once married to Emerson, makes my skin crawl. As we pull up to her house, he freezes in his seat.
“I think my dad will be disappointed,” he says, and I start to panic.
“Why?”
With a snicker, he adds, “He was clearly trying to get us back together, Charlotte.” He says my name like Emerson does, impersonating his father. And I’m not quite sure how that makes me feel.
Strange. It makes me feel very strange.
“Oh yeah. I got that feeling too.” A fact I’m purposefully ignoring for the time being, because it makes me too angry to think about.
“Maybe someday I’ll get my shit together enough to deserve you,” he says with his eyes on the dash, and it shatters my heart to hear him say that. All this time, I thought I wasn’t good enough for Beau, and now…everything’s changed.
Reaching across the seat, I pull him into a hug. “I’m here for you, always.”
He squeezes me back, before opening the door and walking up to the front of the house. Watching him leave has me feeling so many things for this family. They are so broken, both Emerson and Beau at war with themselves and each other. And considering the shitshow that is my family, this says a lot coming from me.
And as I pull away from the curb, I think about what he said, about Emerson clearly trying to get us back together. The more the thought cycles through my mind, the angrier I get.