Page 96 of False God

I gnaw on my bottom lip, not missing the way Charlie’s gaze narrows on my mouth. Heat unfurls in my stomach like plumes of smoke, my body reregistering that he’s really here and all that could mean.

His explanation makes sense. More than that, it sounds genuine. Forcing me to face the fact that I was more disappointed he wasn’t coming than angry about how he declined.

“Do you want me to go? I’ll leave right now.”

Yesshould come out of my mouth. Not because I want him to go, but because it’s alarming how easily my annoyance evaporated. How badly I want to kiss him. More than kiss him.

“Hello?” Chloe’s voice calls out. “Any intruders?”

I glance over one shoulder to watch them all approach. “Way to hurry in with the backup, guys. If someone were here to rob the place, I’d be dead by now.”

“I don’t know any criminals who drive Bugattis,” Hugo says. “Wicked car, Charles.”

Cal scoffs. “Do you knowanycriminals?”

“Glad you could make it,” Theo says, shaking Charlie’s hand.

I don’t know Chloe’s husband that well since they live so far away. But it’s cute how he acts around Charlie, like a younger brother looking up to an older one.

They talk back and forth for a bit; Charlie’s attention divided the whole time. He’s waiting for my decision, I realize.

“I’m going to take a shower,” I announce. “Charlie’s going to stay. He alsolovesit when other people drive his cars, if you guys want to try out the Bugatti.”

I sashay out of the kitchen before anyone can say anything.

Washing off the day’s stickiness is a relief. I empty both suitcases in my quest to find a cute outfit, settling on a Dior sundress. It’s strapless, so it doesn’t rub any healing scrapes. The scabs are itchy, just like Charlie said. I have been dabbing ointment on them, but I won’t be telling him that.

Blow-drying my hair and applying a full face of makeup takes another thirty minutes. The plan is to stay here for dinner tonight since we’ve eaten out the past few evenings.

I’m overdressed for eating on the patio and then lounging on the couch, but it feels nice to dress up. A shot of confidence I need to face Charlie.

He’s here for me.

He might be in Saint-Tropez on business, but Charlie’s here—in Chloe’s family’s house—because of me.

Because he feels bad about how our last conversation ended?

Because it happened to be a convenient stop?

Because he wanted to see me?

I shake my head as I spritz on some perfume. I don’t know why I’m obsessing over this.

Everything I told Bridget earlier is still true.

Geographically, we’re incompatible. There’s long-distance, and then there’s different continents. I’m happy for Chloe, but I’ve never understood how she was able to leave behind everything she knew to stay in London. Shelovedliving inNew York. And Charlie is tied to England in ways Theo isn’t. The way people talk, he’s practically part of the royal family. I can’t picture him walking in Central Park or standing on the observation deck of the Empire State Building. He fit on the manicured grounds of Carys Park and at the edge of the cliff he brought me to.

Then, there’s the other more important consideration—he’s a heartbreaker. Chloe warned me, and he told me the same thing himself. Charlie doesn’t have any interest in pursuing a relationship. A commitment I’m not sure I want either. We can’t both have a foot out the door, or it’ll go nowhere.

My phone buzzes with an incoming call from my mom while I’m slipping on shoes. I’ve sent her photos from the trip, but we haven’t spoken since I left Grandfather and Gigi’s house early on July 5.

I flop down on the bed to answer.

“Hey, Mom.”

“Hey, honey. How’s the trip?”

“It’s great. Saint-Tropez is beautiful. You and Dad should get a place here.”

---