Page 135 of Never Kiss and Tell

Charlie wraps his arms around me, hugging me with a fierceness I’m not prepared for. I cling to him, wishing the world would disappear.

My chest expands, uncomfortably tight. I blink back my tears, forcing myself to pull back from him.

“Thank you—”

“Don’t.” His eyes are a pale grey, dreary like the sky on a cloudy day — nothing like the fierce storminess I’ve come to love. “We’re not doing that.”

I reach up, caressing his cheek. It’s such an intimate gesture, yet already, I feel like he’s a thousand miles away.

He places a gentle kiss to my forehead. “Let me know if you ever get tired of California.”

Then he steps back, leaving me cold and aching.

I’m tired of it now, I want to scream, but I don’t. I don’t say anything. Perfect little dolls don’t move to New Orleans to shack up with the bad boy their mothers hate. They don’t write steamy sex novels. They don’t work at a rowdy Bourbon Street bar. They marry the rich socialite with plenty of Daddy’s money, so they can spend their days drinking mimosas with the other women like them. They donate to charity, not so they can make a difference, but so they can use their good reputation as ammunition. Perfect little dolls follow the rules.

“Bye, Charlie.”

I suck in a shaky breath, averting my eyes, so he can’t see the tears finally spilling over. I grab my carry-on and hurry to my gate, not looking back. I can feel his eyes on me the entire way.

The poor lady at the gate looks at me with pity when I hand her my ticket and wipe my eyes on the back of my hand. I make it onto the plane, collapsing into my seat and shivering, even though it’s hot outside.

I should have known I would fall in love with him. Through the years, his anger toward himself, his sarcastic comments, his outward hatred for me should have turned me completely off, but it seems I can’t help myself.

I keep waiting for him to appear in the doorway of the plane, or outside, running down the tarmac like some cheesy nineties movie.

But as the doors to the plane close and there’s no sign of him anywhere, I know he’s not coming. This is officially over. Done. The deal has closed.

I silence a sob by biting my knuckle and sink back into myseat, not bothering to stop the tears rolling down my face this time.

Finally, the other shoe drops.

Charlie

I can’t tell you how long I sit at the airport outside of Bailey’s gate, waiting for her to get off that stupid plane and come back to me, but I can tell you I watched the gate agent change before I finally left.

My truck smells like her fucking perfume, something I’m pissed about. I slam the door harder than I mean to and drive home in silence, stopping to pick up a pack of cigarettes on the way. I’ve never smoked in my house, but as I lay in bed that night and try to sleep, failing miserably, I concede to watch old Buffy reruns and smoke the entire goddamn pack.

Fucking everything smells like her, even through the cigarette smoke. My pillows, the sheets, me . . . an ache forms in my chest, burning and painful. I rub the spot, absentmindedly.

My phone rings at some point jostling me awake. I clamber in the bed, finally finding it.

“Hello?” I ask, groggy from my few hours of sleep. I check the clock on the bedside table and see it’s past four in theafternoon.

“Are you coming to work today?” Dad asks, his voice calm, instead of the anger I was expecting.

I sit up and rub my fingers over my eyes.

“Fuck. Sorry. I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”

There’s a pause on the other end of the line as I start hunting my jeans.

“You sure you don’t need a day off?”

I wince. The last time Dad asked me that was when I was coming down from a three-day alcohol binge. He didn’t want me at work because I was driving away customers, spilling drinks, stumbling, being a bigger asshole than I already am.

“No. I need to work.”

“Okay,” he says quietly. “You’ll come to me if you need to talk, right?”

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