Page 17 of Free
“Why are you being so nice to me?”
Because I’d do anything for you. Because you deserve to be taken care of. Because I’ll never stop wanting you, never stop wishing that things were different and I deserved you. Because I loved you enough to let you go, but that doesn’t mean I can watch your heart break and not step in.
“Because you’re you.”
Charlie looks unimpressed. “What kind of bullshit answer is that?”
“It’s not bullshit,” I say, recoiling. “It’s the truth.”
Her wide eyes meet mine, swimming in hurt. “Me being me wasn’t good enough for you after your accident.”
It was me who wasn’t good enough for you, I think but don’t say, instantly thrown back to those early days in the hospital. Body broken. Mind destroyed. Ignoring Charlie—her texts, her calls, her attempts to visit…
But the awful things I said to her? Denying I ever loved her in the first place?
That hurt most of all, but it was the right choice.
I did it for her.
“It wasn’t about you being good enough,” I murmur and she scoffs, turning away to stare balefully at the water. The divide between us is so big, I might as well be halfway around the world again.
“I’m sorry you went through what you went through,” Charlie finally whispers. “But you don’t have to stay broken forever.”
“I’m not sure I get much of a choice in that matter.”
“But you do. We all do. Every day, we make choices upon choices upon choices that have created our circumstances?—”
“I didn’t choose to drive over a landmine.” The words grind past gritted teeth, while I try not to let them reignite the sound of the explosion, charred metal, sharp and ragged, black smoke billowing, men screaming, me screaming… “And I didn’t choose to be taken behind enemy lines. I didn’t choose to be the only survivor. And I didn’t choose to have my future ripped out of my hands.”
“But you do have the luxury of choosing how you move forward. Like you said in the truck, I could have stayed at that church and married Davis, then tried to work out our problems through counseling. And maybe I should have?—”
“With all the love and respect in the world,” I say, the words grinding up my throat, “discovering your fiancé is a cheating asshole is on a slightly different level than what I went through.”
“Fair.” Charlie pauses. Detaches. Picks up a fry, then plonks it back into the basket with its brethren before staring at the waves crashing on the beach like they hold the answer to all our questions.
“Anyway,” I say, shifting to free my phone from my pocket. I place it on the table and slide it her way. “You ready to pull the pin on this little moment of Zen and tell your people you’re okay?”
“Pull the pin?”
I mimic biting the pin out of a grenade and tossing it over her shoulder, then mime an explosion with my hands. “It’s gonna be a lot, I think. Once everyone gets involved.”
NINE
Charlie
My friends and family arrive one by one, a blur of bridesmaids’ dresses, tuxedos, and formal suits spilling out of expensive cars. The gravel lot that had been a quiet sanctuary moments ago becomes a hive of chaos. Fred DiMarco leans out of the food truck window, shaking his head and laughing in disbelief as the crowd grows. His chuckles carry on the ocean breeze, but even his easy humor can’t keep my pulse from climbing.
They’re here. All of them. Dad with his stiff posture and clenched fists. Angela, her eyes darting between me and Nick, her lips pressed tight. My brothers exchanging furtive glances, brows knit with concern. The bubble of serenity Nick and I shared—brief, fragile—pops under the weight of their worry.
I glance at Nick, searching his face, and see the same recognition I feel. Whatever moment this was between us, it’s over. Stolen time, gone.
As my family converges on our picnic table, the sharp lines of Nick’s profile harden. His jaw clenches, his eyes distant, andI know the truth: we’re retreating back to what we were before I ran into him at the church.
Nick, a stranger who wears the face of the man who once said he loved me.
And me?
I was supposed to be Charlotte Chaplin, heading to The Brando Resort on a private island in French Polynesia. Stunning overwater villas. Pristine beaches. Snorkeling in coral gardens. Nights spent in my husband’s arms, falling asleep after giddy, joy-filled laughter and lovemaking.
