And with the looming anxiety about his mother lurking in the wings, waiting for another chance to insinuate her way into their lives, how could Charlie blame Dustin for regretting their marriage?
And well, Dustin didn’t even know about the eating disorder …
God … Charlie closed his eyes, feeling the prick of tears threatening. Maybe it was just as well he hadn’t told Dustin.
And yet, a big part of him still wanted to.
Wanted to believe that Dustin meant everything he’d said in the past four months, wanting to believe he cared about Charlie the way Charlie had begun to care about him.
An overwhelming rush of emotions washed over Charlie, leaving him shaky.
He really did care about Dustin, didn’t he? He wanted … he couldn’t even think about what he wanted, not with the doubts and worries about how Dustin felt swirling around in his head.
But Charlie knew he needed to get it together.
He’d been struggling with his eating since his mother messaged Dustin and he knew he couldn’t let this setback—or whatever it was—with his relationship with Dustin derail him.
He had to keep fighting.
Tomorrow is a new day, he reminded himself. Setbacks are not failure. They’re a reminder to keep going.
So he paused the show and settled on the floor with his meditation app, going through the self-affirmations he’d been taught.
He tried everything his therapist had taught him, including sending a text to Taylor and asking if he was up because he needed to talk.
But as the minutes ticked by with no answer and Dustin still didn’t come home, the house suddenly felt big and empty. Hollow and echoing. Unfriendly.
Frustrated and lonely, Charlie turned off the TV and navigated through the house in the dark, wanting to retreat to the safety of their bedroom where the sheets held Dustin’s scent and he could pretend Dustin still wanted him.
He stubbed his toe on a pile of flooring stacked in the hall waiting to be installed, and swore loudly.
Charlie moved more carefully up the stairs and he had reached their bedroom door when he heard a door on the first floor open.
He smiled, a little of his worry and loneliness abating. See? He’d been worried for nothing. Dustin was home after all.
Charlie ducked into the bathroom to get ready for bed, expecting to hear Dustin’s footsteps on the stairs at any time.
But they didn’t come.
By the time Charlie was ready for bed, there was still no sign of Dustin but he slipped under the sheets anyway, sure he’d be along shortly.
By now, he knew Dustin’s routine.
He usually had a quick snack, then walked quietly into the bedroom without turning on the light. He closed the bathroom door silently behind him, got ready for bed, then slipped into the bedroom without a word, doing his best to not disturb Charlie.
He was thoughtful.
Some nights he stayed up a little longer, going into his office to check emails or whatever, but he usually came straight to bed after.
But tonight the minutes ticked by and there were no quiet footfalls or nearly silent whispers of Dustin moving around the dark room.
Just silence.
When it stretched on so long that Charlie felt like his body was vibrating with waiting, he stood and crept to the bedroom door.
He cracked it open but the house was silent and dark.
He crept slowly down the stairs and through the first floor, carefully navigating around the construction materials this time.