Page 45 of Love Me Steadfast
WILLIAM (NOW)
Charlotte slipsher hands from mine, bringing a chill to my skin. I hadn’t planned to burden her with all of what I said, especially with everything she’s dealing with right now, but maybe it’s good I did. We’ll see.
I get us both glasses of water, then pick up my plate. “We can serve up from here.”
She follows me to the stovetop, where I took out my frustrations on dinner.
“Whose recipe is this?” she asks.
“Barb’s.” I set down my plate and hand her the chef’s knife. “When I moved home, I begged her to teach it to me.”
Charlotte sinks the knife down the middle of the pie, releasing a cloud of flavorful steam. When she cuts herself a big slice, the tension in my shoulders notches back. Her bottomless appetite is just one of the many things I love about her.
“And she did instead of insisting you come visit?” Charlotte asks.
I hold the other side of the pie steady with oven mitts so she can slide her piece out. My mouth starts to water. The crust held upperfectly—despite my mistreatment of it. “She doesn’t have to insist. I’m over there at least once a week.”
Charlotte hands me the knife. Our fingertips brush, and the shift in the air between us makes me want to hit pause so I can savor the warmth crawling up my neck and her gingerbread scent and the hope that maybe I’m not delusional in thinking we could ever find our way back to each other.
“I miss them.”
She grabs the oven mitt to hold the pie dish steady for me while I scoop out my piece. Our hands brush, kicking off a pulse of bright heat inside me. “They’re just up the road.”
I risk a glance, but the soft look in her eyes is so fleeting that it’s gone before I can be sure it was real. “Right,” she says, carrying her plate to the table.
I force my eyes to stay focused on the way her long hair sways between her shoulders and not the way her jeans hug her tight curves. She’s dressed for barn chores. Did she spend all evening at Thunder Mountain? I wish she’d let me help.
We sit across from each other at the table.
“Thank you,” Charlotte says, lifting a bite to blow on it.
Moments like this are everything I’ve ever wanted from her, and it guts me that they’re temporary. She’ll fly out of here as soon as she can. Unless I can convince her otherwise.
“Sure,” I manage.
“Do you and Theo ever have days off together?” She slips the fork past her lips, and I have to force my eyes back to my plate, but not before I catch her moan of pleasure.
I force in a deep breath.
“Every other week or so, yeah.” I reply. Talking about Theo pushes old memories to the surface. He’s still my best friend, but that doesn’t mean he wouldn’t pummel me into the ground if he knew the things I’ve done to his sister and the things I regularly think about doing again. Not that I would let that stop me—if I get asecond chance with Charlotte, nothing is going to hold me back from taking it this time. Not even Theo.
“Did you play with Morgan today?” I ask while serving some salad onto my plate.
Her fork pauses mid-air. I glance up as she blinks hard and licks her lips. “No, I…I’m rehearsing.”
My tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth.
“Seattle Symphony is holding auditions next month.”
I nod because words are blowing up in my throat and I don’t want them to leak out. Getting a symphony gig is a big deal. It means security—she’ll have a steady income, health insurance, a schedule. Things every conservatory musician dreams of. Things she deserves. Knowing her, she’s probably been practicing every chance she gets.
But it means she’s prepared to make Seattle her permanent home.
I take a bite of salad but all flavor has vanished.
“What’s happening with Boxcar Doves?” When my head’s clear, I sometimes search my music app for Morgan and Charlotte’s band, curious if they’ve been discovered. As much as I resented the way music put a wedge between us, knowing Charlotte was doing what she loved softened the blow a little.
“Boxcar was more Morgan’s passion than mine,” she replies, her tone brisk.
