The Redemption (Charlotte Bloom Book 2) (10 page)

“Doing what?”

“Trying to seduce me.”

“Why, is it working?” I wiggled my eyebrows at him.

“Listen. I meant it when I said I would take you back. I want to be together. I want to take you on nice dates, and I want to do that,” he said, pointing to me. “I just need some time. You really hurt me. I don’t bounce back that quickly. Seducing me every chance you get is unfair to me, and to you. It’s crossing a boundary I’m not willing to cross yet. What I need from you right now is for you to be my friend.”

“I understand.” And I did. I got it. “I have a ground rule for you, though.”

“You do?” He looked amused.

“Yes. No staring at my ass. I could feel you looking at it the entire time I was washing dishes.”

“I wasn’t.”

“Mmmhmm. Anyways… deal?”

“Deal. Plus all the other things we said this morning.”

“Yep.”

I looked over at him, and he was staring at me like a wolf that hadn’t eaten a proper meal in three months. His pupils were dilated, and I could tell from his clenched jaw that he, too, was exercising self-control at this very moment. The feeling of his hands on my bare hips this morning was enough to make my insides tighten in anticipation. This was going to be so fucking hard. We both cleared our throats, trying to distract ourselves.

“What book do you have?” he said, changing the subject, pointing to the book in my lap.

“
The Awakening
, by Kate Chopin.”

“That’s a good one.”

“I’ve never read it,” I said, suddenly realizing that Alec was much more well-read than I was. I felt so uneducated.

“Do you want to read it together?” He suggested, patting the place next to him on the couch opposite mine. “I could read it out loud.”

“Sure,” I said, smiling. I brought the book over and sat next to Alec, pulling my legs up to my chest and coming in close to his side as he started to read.

“A green and yellow parrot, which hung in a cage outside the door, kept repeating over and over: ‘Allez vous-en! Allez vous-en! Sapristi! That's all right!’ He could speak a little Spanish, and also a language which nobody understood, unless it was the mocking-bird that hung on the other side of the door, whistling his fluty notes out upon the breeze with maddening persistence. Mr. Pontellier, unable to read his newspaper with any degree of comfort, arose with an expression and an exclamation of disgust. He walked down the gallery and across the narrow ‘bridges' which connected the Lebrun cottages one with the other. He had been seated before the door of the main house. The parrot and the mockingbird were the property of Madame Lebrun, and they had the right to make all the noise they wished. Mr. Pontellier had the privilege of quitting their society when they ceased to be entertaining.”

We spent the majority of the day reading out loud to each other, or rather, Alec reading out loud to me. I loved hearing his accent, and the lilt of his voice on such a classic piece of literature was beautiful to listen to. His voice was deep yet emotional, and he was so good at reading out loud. He talked in different voices for each character. I was engrossed in the story. We finished shortly before dinner, and I tried to hold back tears at the ending.

“She went on and on. She remembered the night she swam far out, and recalled the terror that seized her at the fear of being unable to regain the shore. She did not look back now, but went on and on, thinking of the blue-grass meadow that she had traversed when a little child, believing that it had no beginning and no end. Her arms and legs were growing tired. She thought of Leonce and the children. They were a part of her life. But they need not have thought that they could possess her, body and soul. How Mademoiselle Reisz would have laughed, perhaps sneered, if she knew! ‘And you call yourself an artist! What pretensions, Madame! The artist must possess the courageous soul that dares and defies.’ Exhaustion was pressing upon and overpowering her. ‘Good-by—because I love you.’ He did not know; he did not understand. He would never understand. Perhaps Doctor Mandelet would have understood if she had seen him—but it was too late; the shore was far behind her, and her strength was gone. She looked into the distance, and the old terror flamed up for an instant, then sank again. Edna heard her father's voice and her sister Margaret's. She heard the barking of an old dog that was chained to the sycamore tree. The spurs of the cavalry officer clanged as he walked across the porch. There was the hum of bees, and the musky odor of pinks filled the air.”

Alec slowly closed the book, and I wiped the tears off of my cheeks. The ending was terribly sad, and I had a lump in my throat the size of a marble. I always cried after finishing a book—the finality of it being over always wracked my body with emotion.

“Next time, let’s read something happier,” I said quietly, getting up off of the couch. My legs were stiff, and I stretched my arms above my head. My stomach rumbled. We’d read through lunch. The grandfather clock by the library door said it was just before 7:00 p.m.

“I can choose something happy tomorrow,” Alec said.

“Tomorrow?” I smiled, knowingly.

“Do you have other plans?”

“No. No other plans.”

We walked downstairs and a glorious scent met my nostrils as we entered the kitchen. Ennis was pulling something out of the oven. I grabbed three plates and three sets of silverware, setting the dining room table as if this were my house too. I’d been here less than twenty-four hours and I already felt at home. Alec hugged his mother, and proceeded to steal a piece of chicken skin. She swatted him away with a dishtowel, instructing him to sit down.

“I made a roast chicken, mashed potatoes, and a salad,” Ennis said as she placed the food on the table.

“This looks delicious,” I said, my mouth watering slightly.

“What did you two get up to today?”

“We just read in the library,” I said, smiling at Alec. “It was nice. I could spend the rest of my life in that library.”

“Aedan built it for me,” Ennis explained. “I love it in there.”

“I can see why.”

“Thanks for the dinner, mum,” Alec beamed, taking his seat.

I sat down beside him and poured everyone some white wine. This was nice. I felt so relaxed, and my mind was still buzzing with the words of Kate Chopin, and the electricity between Alec and I. I didn’t have too much time to think about that last fact though, as the food was too delicious to concentrate on anything but. I didn’t care who was sitting next to me at that moment. I just cared about that chicken drumstick, creamy mashed potatoes, and yummy salad. I helped myself to seconds and relished in the feeling of being completely satisfied when I was finished eating. I certainly ate well on this side of the world.

We all chatted for a bit, mostly about Alec and Stephen and their childhood. It seemed that even though most of their childhood was spent in a time of conflict, they’d had a pretty comfortable upbringing. One thing I admired was Alec’s modesty about growing up wealthy. He didn’t act spoiled or entitled. He’d been completely financially independent since the age of sixteen. Stephen had been the same way. I hadn’t met Stephen yet, but even though he was very close with Ennis and lived only a few miles away, he’d forged his own path, like Alec. That was admirable.

Ennis excused herself to bed, and Alec and I cleaned up the dining area and kitchen, working silently and efficiently side by side. I washed and he dried, and we put everything away in its proper place. Once the kitchen was spotless, we headed upstairs. I stopped in front of my door, not sure of what to do. Ennis had mentioned that I could sleep in Alec’s room, but I wasn’t sure if he’d let me. In fact, I was sure he was going to insist that I sleep in the guest room. Before I embarrassed myself, I opened the guest bedroom door.

“Well, goodnight,” I said slowly, ready to walk into the guest room without a fight, but also ready to join Alec if he invited me in.

“Goodnight, Charlotte,” he said, opening his door. I couldn’t read his face.

It felt wrong, and cruel, but I knew it was something that had to be done. Our story had started so quickly and ended so abruptly. One day we were just friends, and the next day, lovers. And then the following day, I left Wales. We barely knew each other. Sure, we’d connected instantly, but we needed to lay the groundwork before we could start a romantic relationship again. For God’s sake, we’d never even been on a date. Deep down, I knew that taking it slow, however hard it would be for me,
for us
, was important to him. Besides, I had hurt him. He couldn’t trust me right now. He wasn’t sure if he’d wake up tomorrow without me here. I owed him some space.

We both stared at each other, and I could tell that he was thinking the same thing as me. I wasn’t going to make the first move. I wasn’t going to make any more moves until he was ready. With every ounce of willpower that I could muster up, I walked into the guest room and closed the door behind me, then slumping against it and burying my face in my hands. I was tired, and I needed a clear head for tomorrow. Jet lag was starting to kick in.

I got ready for bed and turned on the television that adorned one of the walls opposite the bed. One of my guilty pleasures was falling asleep with the television on. Settling in, I felt an empty disappointment. I ached for Alec, and all I wanted was for him to come be with me. I wanted to feel his skin against mine. That would be the ultimate comfort. I tucked myself in to the bed, hoping so hard that Alec would feel me beckoning him; finally, the TV mumbling in the background lulled me to sleep.

***

In the middle of a bad nightmare, my eyes flew open and I sat up straight, panting. The TV was still on, casting an eerie glow around the entire room. I stifled a scream when I realized Alec was standing next to my door, shutting it behind him. I blew out a large breath of air, and took my sleep shirt off because I had sweat through it. Luckily, I was wearing a camisole underneath it. I guess I knew what had woken me up.

“What are you doing here?” I whispered. “You scared the shit out of me.”

I eyed Alec, who stood before me, sleepily. He was wearing boxer briefs and a t-shirt.

He didn’t say anything. He turned the TV off, and in the pitch-black room I couldn’t see where he was going or what he was doing. I felt the edge of the bed sink, and he crawled in closer to me, pulling the covers over him. Maybe he was sleepwalking? He inched closer, wrapping one arm around me and tucking my legs in between his. I almost laughed when I realized what he was doing. Alec was spooning me. I was about to shrug it off and go to sleep, when Alec whispered in my ear.

“Just because I’m mad at you doesn’t mean I don’t want to cuddle with you at night,” he explained. “I like being close to you, even if we can’t do anything. You comfort me in ways I never knew I needed to be comforted.”

I smiled, and I felt his breathing grow slow and steady. He hadn’t even tried to make a move. As my eyelids got heavy, I relaxed back into his warm abdomen and fell fast asleep in his arms.

***

I woke up alone, and I couldn’t help but wonder if sleeping with Alec last night had been merely a dream. I stretched, and realized it was well past ten in the morning. I hadn’t slept this late in a long time. When I was in Wales the first time, I slept like a baby. My entire life I’d been a good sleeper. But when I got back to L.A., I had insomnia almost every night. I’d toss and turn in my small bed, waking roughly around six every morning, no matter what time I’d gone to sleep. I had spent the last three months with constant bags beneath my eyes. I’d forgotten how good it felt to sleep with no restraints—no alarms, no worries. I must’ve slept at least thirteen hours. I was beginning to feel like myself again. A quick glance in the mirror proved my point. The dark circles that had been haunting my eyes for the last three months had disappeared completely.

I didn’t bother changing into clothes. I was too groggy with sleep to bother. Instead, I put on a pair of wool socks and headed downstairs in my brightly-colored, matching pajama set to get some coffee. I didn’t bother fixing my hair either. It was a lost cause. I heard voices coming from the dining room. I recognized Alec’s booming voice, but there was another male voice, too—one I didn’t recognize. I hesitated just outside of the kitchen, wishing I’d put on real clothes, or at least brushed my teeth and/or hair.

As I walked in, I realized the other male voice I’d heard must’ve been Alec’s brother, Stephen. He was tall and muscular also, but his hair was slightly lighter, and he was more groomed. There was also a woman with shoulder-length blond hair. She had blue eyes and freckles. I gathered, studying the group for a bit, that she was Stephen’s wife. I slowly entered, and Ennis turned around to greet me.

“Good morning, Charlotte!” She walked to the island and produced a mug of steaming hot coffee. “I just made this for myself, but I think you need it more than I do,” she grinned, winking at me.

I felt my cheeks turn bright red. This was not how I had imagined meeting Alec’s brother and sister-in-law.