I saw that coming of course, most people’s reaction would be the same, but who were they to judge what the two of us had? I loved him, that was what mattered. I didn’t need to justify that, not to anyone. Funny though, I had been putting off telling Mom and Dad, knowing their reaction would be th
e exact same.
“C’mon Bull’s, you’ve met him. He’s a great guy.”
“Charlie, a great guy doesn’t mean you have walk down the aisle with him. Just enjoy him for now.”
“I love him,” I shot back defensively.
“I know, but is it enough?”
Her question knocked me for six. I did not see that coming. Eric sat wide-eyed at both of us like he was watching some scene from Housewives of Beverly Hills. Bull’s stood there, arms folded, tapping her foot. Her usual glare, which normally had no effect on me whatsoever, intimidated me at this moment.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Look Charlie, all I’m saying is that yes, Julian is a fantastic guy, he is damn hot and I wouldn’t kick him out of bed for farting on clean sheets, but don’t you think you are rushing into this? It’s almost like it’s just to move on…”
Frozen by her comment, I knew her interrogation of my actions was fuelled by my resistance to settle down with any man prior to Julian. My past was unknown to her and everyone else, apart from Logan. Every so often during a drunken rant I would spill information about my history in Carmel but whenever I was pushed I would shut down immediately. It was my past therefore it should remain exactly that, in the past. I wasn’t the same Charlotte Mason, that naïve high school girl so willing to give her heart only to be chewed up and spit out.
“Eric, can I have a word with Bull’s in private?”
With a mixture of disgust and hurt on his face, he walked out the door but stopped at my desk to grab a handful of M&Ms that I kept in a large bowl. As the door closed, I focused my attention back on Bull’s.
“You are the first one to say how picky I am, that I never give any guy a chance. So here I am giving this wonderful guy a chance and you have the nerve to tell me that I’m making a mistake?”
“No, I simply said why the rush. Are you knocked up or something?”
“NO!” I blurted out.
“Then I don’t understand.”
“You don’t need to understand. All you need to do is be my friend. I love him, he loves me. Time means nothing when you know it is right.”
“And is it?”
Okay, so I felt like we were in court, she was playing lawyer and I was standing trial. I hesitated, trying to find the right words that would be good enough for her, so she would understand.
“You know what they say, ‘hesitation is a product of fear’,” she quoted.
“Or maybe I’m just trying to find the right words so you’ll stop nagging me about this.”
“Charlie, I’m not nagging. You are my best friend. I only want the best for you. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be so judgmental. Now show me this damn ring—oh hang on a sec,” she whispered, “do me a favor and open your door.”
I knew without asking why she wanted me to do that. Tip-toeing to my door I opened it quickly as a shocked Eric pummeled to the floor with a paper cup.
As Bull’s and I broke into laughter, a somewhat disheveled Eric picked himself up, wiping his perfectly pressed suit.
“Ladies, this is an Armani suit.”
“You need a glass, Eric, not a paper cup. Such a rookie mistake.”
…
I was just about to leave my office to meet Julian for lunch when Eric barged in unnoticed, skipping to my table like a five year-old-girl: all he was missing was the pigtails.
“Guess what? You are so going to love me!” he squealed. “Thursday afternoon I have Carolina, a stylist, coming to your apartment!”
“Shut the front door! But why?”