Page 82 of If My Wishes Came True
The dejected look on Charlie’s face makes my heart ache.
“I don’t want to break up,” I tell him, “but I need time to think. This is a lot to process.”
Even if Vanessa somehow happens to be okay with me and Charlie dating…what if talking to her confirms my fears about him? Maybe she ended things because she got tired of hearing him swear he’d change. Maybe she decided he never will. And what if she’s right?
Charlie’s eyes narrow, like he’s reading the ambivalence in my gaze.
But he nods, regardless. “I understand.”
“You do?”
“Some time apart will be good for me, too,” he says with a sigh. “Because if I’m going to prove that I can be the man you deserve…I have a hell of a lot of work to do.”
He’s Nico.
It’s the first thought in my head when I wake up in the morning—even three days later.
I must have really pissed someone off in a past life for karma to come back and bite me like this.
I thought Charlie Sutton was the one. I was sure the stars were aligning for me. Now I have no idea if we’re meant to be together. It certainly felt like it.
I want, so badly, to believe that fate tied me to Charlie long before we ever met. I can’t ignore the magnetic pull I feel toward him. It can’t just be a coincidence that I ran into him by the elevator that night. I’ve been running my entire adult life—Runaway Jenna, always moving from one place to the next—but maybe I wasn’t running away. Maybe this whole time, I’ve been running toward something. Toward Charlie.
And now the universe goes and pulls a stunt like this. Right when I get to the point in my life where I’m done settling, Imeet a man who settles for everything. Who almost married the first real female friend I’ve had in years.
It feels like a cruel joke.
And, god, do I miss him. I know I asked for space, but every day I hope to see a note under my door—a photo to let me know he’s thinking of me. But there’s been nothing. He’s playing by the rules I set, again, like a true gentleman. Or maybe he’s taking the path of least resistance, which I hate to say, wouldn’t be unlike him.
Or, worse still, maybe he’s having second thoughts about me.
Needless to say, I’m a wreck. Luckily I’ve been keeping myself busy working on the portrait of Nadine’s mother. She’s beautiful. Like a raven-haired Grace Kelly. And she has the same sparkle in her eye that her daughter has. It’s fun to paint someone so vibrant and full of life.
It’s comforting to know that, no matter what happens from here on out, I will always have joy and passion at my fingertips, with a blank canvas and a fresh palette.
But I want Charlie too, dammit.
I want him more than anything. I want him to figure out a way to extract himself from his miserable job without tearing apart his family. I want him to know how good it feels to shake off what doesn’t feel authentic, and pursue what brings you joy. I want him to be by my side when I travel outside the country for the first time. I want to see art with him, and make art with him, and make love to him, over and over for the rest of my life.
But what if he doesn’t change? What then?
That’s as far as I let myself go when I’m spiraling. Well, it’s asfar as Esther recommends I go, and this time I’m following her advice to the letter. My tender heart can’t afford not to.
Yup, therapy’s been a lot of fun this week. Poor Esther. She’s abandoned her chair a few times to sit with me on the couch. But I’m so grateful to have her to lean on. I should probably reimburse her for all the tissues and tea I’ve consumed while crying to her about Charlie’s alter ego.
I’m trying not to think about him now, as I’m on my way to Tati Marie’s painting class, but it feels impossible. Vanessa won’t be there today, thankfully. She and her sister, Denise, rebooked their flight home from Barcelona so they could stop in Miami to see their parents. But they’ll be back tomorrow, and Vanessa and I have plans to meet. I told her I’d come over with a bottle of wine, and we could catch up.
She has no idea just how much catching up we have to do.
“Jenna, dear?”
“Oh! Hi, Marie,” I say with a start.
When I walked into the classroom, she’d been busy talking to another student, so I went straight to my easel and started painting. I have no idea how long she’s been standing next to me, because I was stuck in my head, worrying about breaking her niece’s heart.
“You’re jumpy,” she says with an eyebrow raised. “Everything okay?”
“Oh my gosh, yes!” I say with my fake, bright smile. “Of course. Totally.”
