Page 56 of Charlie

My senses wake up slowly—first golden light on my eyelids, then the warmth of skin under my cheek. I crack open one eye to find myself nestled into Jack, his arm a band across my hips pulling me tightly to his chest.

I close my eyes again, burrowing into the safety of Jack’s body. It feels so good. I breathe deep, inhaling his scent and blowing out the demons that have plagued me for so long. My heart flutters at the possibility that I have found what I've yearned for my entire life.

Guilt twinges, reminding me that someone's missing. The person I can talk with forever about all the mundane things only we find interesting. The one that will sit and read with me, not caring if that's all we did the entire day. The one with floppy hair and cute nerdy glasses. I let myself wallow in memories before pushing them back into the box I had put him in.

"Morning, sunshine," Lach says, coming into the room with a tray in his hands.

I look up at him, at his tender smile. My heart flutters against my ribs.

"Good morning." I try to wipe the grin off my face but fail miserably.

"I hope you don't mind that we brought you up here when you passed out last night, it seemed easier than taking you to the cottage." He sets the tray down at the foot of the bed. "I scrounged up some stuff in the kitchen; I wasn't sure what you'd be in the mood for."

My mouth is watering at the smells coming from the tray: scones, eggs, bacon, croissants, and a luscious bowl of strawberries. Lach pours steaming coffee into the three mugs and hands me one. Jack groans as I sit up, stretching his full length, then sitting up next to me, pulling his hair back before pressing a kiss to my cheek. I squeeze my hands into fists to prevent myself from manhandling the miles of velvety skin so blatantly on display.

"Thank you, Lach, this is amazing." My voice comes out rusty, and I cough, trying to clear my throat. "Sorry," I laugh.

"Don't apologize. You sound fucking sexy."

I smile into my coffee.

"I think it's time," Jack says, popping a strawberry into his mouth. Lach climbs onto the bed, propping himself up on an elbow.

I raise my eyebrows. "Time for what?"

"The Talk."

"The skeletons in the closet talk?" I ask, chuckling.

Jack nods, sipping his coffee. "Are you up for it?"

"Sure." Not like there was much about me they didn't know already.

"Do you want me to start first?" Jack asks, pushing a lock of hair behind my ear.

I nod.

"I'm just going to rip off the bandaid," he begins.

My heart drops like a stone. This was it. This was the other shoe.

He leans back against the headboard and just looks at me for a couple of seconds, like he's trying to figure out how to say it.

"We need to tell you about Emily."

"Okay," I croak, taking a deep breath, trying to calm my heart

"She died eleven years ago." He looks out the window, his expression hard to read.

"I'm so sorry," I whisper, my heart breaking for him.

"She was six months pregnant when she died."

"God. I can't even imagine."

"It was a long time ago." He gives me a small smile. "It's mostly good memories left with only a little bit of sadness."

"Thank you for telling me," I murmur, sliding my hand over his.

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