Page 26 of Spiteful Lies

I keep telling myself it’s what Astrid wants. Well, maybe not the way I intend to do it, but she’s worried about Charlotte. And well, I am too. Her offering to testify for money was the last straw.

I thought about talking to Howland and demanding that he treat her better than this. Charlotte was devoted to him, whether she was blood or not. But what good will it do? He’s dying. But to do something so brutal to someone? So what if she’s not his?

“This is a nice surprise.” Charlotte looks at The Inn at Portsmouth as we drive up. “And a little weird.”

My jaw clenches, and I can barely speak. “What do you mean?”

She laughs. “It feels like a date.” She looks at me oddly. “But it can’t be that, right?”

“I want to talk to you in private.” I smile as wide as hers. “Let’s spend some time and money together while we enjoy life for a change.”

Charlotte nods. “Definitely, because life has been sucking real shit lately. Thanks, Bryce.” She pecks me on the cheek as we sit in the car parked in the lot.

“Charlotte, you know I really care about you.” She stares into my eyes, and I should feel happy, but instead I feel dread. Am I about to ruin both our lives?

Astrid will understand. I climb out of the car and look at the façade of the building. The night we spent there—the memory of it hits me in the gut, and I swear I can smell Astrid’s scent on the breeze.

I open the car door for her, and Charlotte swings her feet out daintily and steps out of the car. She looks stunning. Her long blonde hair shines in the setting sun as her skirt wraps around her amazing legs. I wish I felt more than friendship for her, but maybe that will change someday. Our relationship may have turned into something more, but not now, not after I fell hard for Astrid.

“You’re miles away,” Charlotte giggles as we walk into the Inn, “but we’re in the best spot. And thank you for the second Thanksgiving. Dr. Rawlins’ was okay, but this is special.”

She touches my hand as we walk toward the main dining room, and I hesitate before taking her hand in mine.

“So, how was it at Dr. Rawlins’? Did you have to get dressed up?” We walk into the dining room, and every head turns. Charlotte has that effect on people. A man’s fork stops in midair before his mouth as he watches her walk. Charlotte remains oblivious to his existence. So why don’t I want her?

“Good evening,” the waitress smiles. “I see you’re back.” Her smile falters when she sees Charlotte in Astrid’s place. Charlotte doesn’t seem to notice the change in attitude as she takes the menu from the woman’s hand.

“Have you been here before, Bryce?” Charlotte giggles as her eyes scan the menu.

The waitress’s expression stiffens as she quickly takes our drink order then leaves the table. If she understood what’s going on, she’d lose the judgy attitude.

“I’m glad there’s no turkey on the menu,” Charlotte says, looking over the top with those big blue eyes.

“Order whatever you want,” I smile. “Order champagne if you want. I want you to forget Stonehaven for a while.”

Charlotte grins softly, her eyes sparkling. “Thank you, Bryce. You know what I need.”

I must be crazy not to be in love with her. By the time we finish our alternative Thanksgiving, I’ve built up enough liquid courage to do what I intend. I grab my wineglass and take a long sip. “I got a room for tonight, so we don’t have to drive back.”

Charlotte’s lips part as if she’s shocked by my blunt request.

“We’ll just hang out,” I reassure her.

Her face relaxes, but her giggle isn’t real. “Of course. Because we’re friends.”

I nod. “Because we’re friends,” I echo her words, pouring another glass.

Ignoring the chill, we follow behind the owner to our room for the evening. She hardly looks at me, and ordinarily, it wouldn’t bother me, but it does now. I’d never do anything to hurt Astrid. I’m doing this for Astrid. I know she’s worried about Charlotte. I am too.

“Your room.” The owner unlocks the door then walks away without another word. She must remember Astrid.

Astrid is hard to forget, and I know I won’t forget her. I wonder if she’ll think about me when she’s with Wyatt or Pierce. The door bangs when I shut it. My hand grips the knob, and my knuckles turn white as I rehearse the words in my head.

Charlotte looks at me with genuine concern. “Bryce, are you okay?”

I nod, tossing my coat onto a chair. “It’s a nice room,” I quickly deflect.

Thankfully, it’s not the same room I shared with Astrid. It’s smaller, with the king bed situated right in the middle, taking up most of the space. The eyelet duvet is ruffled and fluffy, and I can’t keep my gaze off the bed. Women like that kind of frilly shit stuff, and I’m hoping it will put Charlotte in the mood.

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