Page 26 of Shadowing Charlotte
Please talk to me.
Charlotte
When my last text bubble turned green, I knew I was fucked—utterly and completely—fucked. I pulled open our Facebook messages.You are not friends with Charlotte Emmerson on Facebook.
"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!" I hit the steering wheel over and over again, the phone falling to the floor beneath my seat. She'd fucking blocked me on her phone. She'd removed me from her Facebook. Worse, she'd made her profile private, leaving me with no way to see what was happening in her life—a life she was making painfully clear that I was no longer a part of.
I pushed the seat back, digging blindly for my phone, cutting my finger on the broken screen. It needed to be replaced, but I found myself staring at the shattered glass, wondering if it was the only thing I had left to prove that Charlotte and I had been together, that it had been real.
Nearly two months, Miguel. She hasn't been anywhere out of the norm. Either she knows you'd hired someone, or you're just fucking paranoid.
Maybe if you paid attention to your wife, she wouldn't feel the need to get her hair done every fucking week.
I knew as soon as I sent the text, I was going to be fired from the job. Still, I couldn't help myself. Mr. Guzman was convinced his wife was sleeping around, and yet, he'd never once bothered to change his schedule; to come home and spend time with her.
He was an asshole. And so was I.
I didn't bother to answer his call, or the three consecutive texts that chimed on my phone. Instead, I drove straight to Hewart Press and parked on the adjacent corner. For nearly five hours, I sat there, barely moving, draining the vape she'd given me until it tasted like nothing but burnt coils. Burnt and empty, exactly like I felt.
Just before six, Charlotte pushed through the glass doors and stepped out onto the sidewalk. I was back in the Camaro; I knew she saw me. Still, she didn't offer a second glance my way, her long ponytail bouncing as she rounded the corner toward the parking garage. She looked beautiful, a contented smile on her lips as she walked, looking completely unbothered.
I pulled open our Facebook messages.
Charlotte
Baby, please. Give me a chance to fix this.
I watched as she pulled the phone from her pocket, glanced at the screen, and dropped it into her purse. She wasn't even going to bother to reply. Invisible hands dug into my chest again, tearing it open and squeezing my heart until I felt like I was going to faint against the steering wheel.
She was nearly at her car when I gunned the engine and skidded to a stop on front of her. "Charlotte, damn it! Let me talk to you!" I pleaded as I jumped out, leaving the engine running. The smile she'd worn previously was gone, replaced with that cold, unfeeling look she'd given me the night before, like she had a switch inside her that she could flick on and off at will.
"I don't want to talk to you," she replied in a whisper, her words barely audible over the breaking of my heart. "Leave me alone." She stepped around me, but I latched on to the sleeve of her shirt.
"Charlotte, don't do this…" I begged, completely uncaring of how pathetic I sounded.
She yanked her arm out of my hold, glaring up at me. "I'm not doing anything. All of this was a mistake; I've just been too stupid to realize what we were doing."
"Don't say that, princess—"
"I want you to leave me alone, Alexander. For good… If I see you parked on my street, I'll call the cops, like I should have years ago." Without another word, she turned and walked away from me, leaving me standing there with a gaping hole in my chest.
Chapter twenty-one
Charlotte
Walking away from Alexander was the hardest thing I'd ever had to do. The pain and betrayal Adam had put me through couldn't compare to the ache growing in my heart. Alexander might as well have ripped my chest open with his bare hands and let me bleed out.
I had to be strong, had to battle against the overwhelming desire to throw myself into his arms and make him promise to never hurt me again. Instead, I walked calmly back to my rental, put the car in drive, and tossed the vape he'd gotten me out the window. I didn't want to have any more reminders of him, no matter how small.
When I got home, I threw the bottle of bourbon into the trash, along with the dead roses and the tiny cards he'd left me. Our "relationship" had never been healthy, not from the start. I should have known that it would end in disaster. It was both agonizing and relieving to throw the trash bag into the garbage bin and haul it out to the curb.
Changing into leggings and a t-shirt, I redid my hair and put on my running shoes. I needed to do something with my spare time. Something that didn't revolve around Lex. Sticking in my ear buds, I locked the door and began to run, following the turns of the neighborhood as music blasted in my ears. I wrapped around the block multiple times, running until my chest burned and my mouth had gone dry.
The Camaro was sitting across the street when I reached the corner. I glared pointedly at him.Fucking take a hint!
But Lex wasn't watching me; he was staring at the house. I followed his gaze, a lump forming in my throat and my pulse quickening.
SLUThad been spraypainted across the garage door—and both sides of my rental. I was reacting before I'd thought it through, dialing the number I'd remembered by heart months ago.
