Page 7 of Faking it with my Off Limits Neighbor

There are a whole lot of thoughts flying through my head at this moment.

Charlotte Woods is my next-door neighbor.

Charlotte is now Charlie.

Charlie has blossomed into a beautiful young woman.

That beautiful young woman clearly wants nothing to do with me.

While the first two are shocking, the last two don’t surprise me at all. She was always beautiful in my eyes. It’s the reason I fell in love with her. But it wasn’t just her looks. It was her innocence, her easy way of looking at things, her kindness. It was just all of her.

But I messed up. When I left Cherryville, I didn’t say a word to her. I just couldn’t look her in the eye and tell her I was going. It was too painful. Being young and foolish, I convinced myself that I was doing her a favor by just leaving. I know better now.

Evidently, I hurt her badly. But at the time, I knew that already, and I didn’t need Milly to tell me. That didn’t stop her, though; three days after I landed in Paris, my little sister reprimanded me heavily over the phone.

It was the weighty guilt that forced my hand, and I told Milly what had really happened; after that, she barely mentioned Charlotte again.

In hindsight, that wonderful concept that has twenty-twenty vision, I should have written to her. She deserved an explanation. She deserved to know it wasn’t because of her. But as the weeks rolled into months, I lost my nerve. Eventually, I buried it so deep, I stopped thinking about it. It, and her.

Maybe I was kidding myself to think I could just come back here and things would be fine. In truth, I thought she would have moved on by now. She was always smart, and by her outfit this morning, she clearly has made something of herself, just like I knew she would.

I hadn’t really prepared myself to see her. I hadn’t prepared myself to see her looking like that, either. As I turn and walk into the house, I acknowledge that my younger sister has some serious explaining to do.

After another coffee and a shower, I make my way over to my parents’ house. I’m still reeling from seeing Charlie, but I’m also excited to see Mom, Dad, and Milly. It’s been ten years. We’ve FaceTimed, but it’s not quite the same, is it?

I have wanted to come back and visit them, but the culinary world in Paris never stops. Eager to improve my skills in every way possible, I spent most of my vacation days traveling to courses, and seminars and visiting world-renowned restaurants to spend time with the chefs.

“Troy!” Milly squeals at the top of her lungs.

I’ve just pulled the car to a stop in the driveway and haven’t even opened the door yet. My sister has burst out of the front door and started running toward the car with her arms flung wide and an excited energy that I have truly missed.

I can’t help but grin at her when I finally get out. Milly has a tiny frame and her brown hair, cut into a pixie style, only makes her look younger than her actual age. While I’m tall, Milly takes after our Mom and stands at five feet and four inches. Her energy certainly makes up for her lack of height, though. “Oomph,” I gasp when she launches herself at me, throwing her arms around my body. “Hey, Titch,” I say, calling her by the nickname I gave her years ago after I grew and she didn’t.

“You can tease me all you want,” she banters back. “I’m too happy right now to care.”

I wrap my arms around her and squeeze her tiny frame gently. Looking up, I catch sight of Mom and Dad, both of whom are standing at the front door with great big beaming smiles.

After plenty of manly hugs and tender kisses, we sit talking about all of our lives. It’s not like we need to be caught up too much. Like I said, we FaceTime a lot.

“Have you been able to see it yet?” Dad asks. He’s a big, burly man, still strong even for his age. I suppose he has to be, running the logging company.

I shake my head, knowing exactly what he’s talking about. “I haven’t had the chance.”

He looks at me with a steady smile on his face. “There’s a lot of potential there, son.”

Mom and Dad went with the realtor to look at the restaurant I had bought. I trust Dad. He built our house, so he knows what he’s talking about as far as construction and buildings are concerned. It would have been too much to fly back here only to discover the place wasn’t suitable. Besides, I hadn’t had the time due to my shifts.

“It needs some work, but it's structurally sound. To be honest, I was surprised, given the amount of time it’s been empty,” Dad continues.

“The poor Morrisons,” Mom laments.

The family Mom refers to owned the restaurant years ago. There were four children, and when Mr. Morrison died unexpectedly, everyone assumed that one of the kids would take the business over. Unfortunately, they all had their own plans for their lives. None of which happened to involve wanting to run a restaurant. The place was sold to some out-of-towner, but for some reason, they didn’t do anything with it. It’s been sitting there for a few years now, unoccupied and practically abandoned.

The morning rolled on, and Mom made a huge lunch. “Your Grandma is going to be so delighted that you’re home for her birthday,” Mom says, handing me a plate.

I frown in reply.

“She’s eighty this year,” Milly declares. “We’re throwing her a big party at Grandma and Grandpa’s house.”

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