Page 94 of The Bad Wedding Date

“They make me who I am. You know that more than anyone.”

“You do it for me,” she said, her voice barely a whisper.

“And for myself.”

“Oh, Fraser,” she sighed. “You can’t save the world with just two hands.”

“I can try.”

“You shouldn’t want to.”

I imagined her on the other end of the phone, her shoulders sagging when she said my name. The blame she placed on her lack of actions along the way. The twinkle in those pale blue eyes long since gone, as her heavy brows dropped at the edges, and she tucked her chin to her chest as she worried the edge of her cardigan or jumper with her free hand. The very image of her wearing her worry had me rubbing my fingers over my temple and closing my eyes.

“Anyway, let’s not start that old debate,” I croaked, quickly clearing my throat. “Are you keeping well? Is Anya taking good care of you?”

“She always does.”

“Good.” I blew all the air out of my cheeks, dropped my hand to the steering wheel and looked up at Charlotte’s window again. “And you’re safe?”

“Yes.”

More silence again, as though this conversation was killing the both of us.

“I… I thought you’d come here to me last Sunday,” she eventually said. “It was so strange. I felt you. I felt you near to me, Fraser. I got excited, but then… then you were gone, and I realised I must have been mistaken. You wouldn’t come here and not see me. Not you. But that feeling… it’s thrown me off all week.”

Guilt swallowed me whole. Mum had always said she could feel me whenever I was close by like our connection went beyond the understanding of our mortal minds. Like we were tethered together by a bond so strong, it was tangible, pulling either one of us in whatever direction the other happened to be. And last Sunday, shehadfelt me. I’d been close when I’d taken Charlotte to the beach where Mum stayed not so far away.

Rather than lie to her, I said nothing. It wasn’t my place to make her question her own sanity, and I wasn’t the kind of guy to play mind games with a woman who had given up her whole life to make me strong.

“Will I see you soon?” she asked quietly.

“Yes.”

“You promise?”

“On my life.”

“How many times do I have to tell you? Bet on anything the world has to offer—anything except your life. You already give too much of yourself as it is.”

31

Charlotte

Home had always been my favourite place. The haven I’d created away from everyone else and my own little bubble of safety and self-love, where I could walk through the front door after a long day or night at work and flop onto one of my mismatching sofas without a care in the world. But after five days and nights with Fraser, diving in and out of swimming pools and climbing into crisp white sheets with damp skin, I now found my home to be missing something. And no matter how many times I walked around the living room and bedroom, pacing back and forth to find a book or a notepad or a magazine to pass my time, I knew I wouldn’t find the one thing I was really looking for.

Him.

The temptation to text him and ask if he was okay grew to be too much.

I slumped back against the sofa and threw my phone down beside me, only to see the screen come to life. My heart leapt out of my chest for just a moment until I saw the name Jonah lighting up the screen.

“You’re alive,” I answered with a smile, hoping he couldn’t hear the slight disappointment in my voice at it not being Fraser on the other end of the call. What a loser I’d become.

“Hey, babe,” Jonah said.

“Where have you been? Are you okay?”

He released a weighty sigh. “I’m great. I had to go home to see the folks.”

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