Chapter7
Charlotte
“So what are you wearing?” Penelope asks as I put on the final coat of my mascara. My phone is lying on the bathroom counter while I have her on speakerphone as I do my makeup.
“A little black dress. I figured I couldn’t go wrong with that.”
“Okay…but are we talking something you would wear to work, a funeral, or something you would wear to the club?”
I stick the wand back in the tube. “A little bit in the middle, I guess. It has spaghetti straps and a small cut in the front to give me some cleavage, but it’s not too short or revealing.”
“Okay. That sounds appropriate. I was gonna say, don’t go into this thing dressed like a nun. A guy like Damien wouldn’t be with a girl who hides everything her momma gave her, you know what I mean?”
Snorting, I reach for my curling iron and pick up a piece of hair that’s lost some of its life. “Newsflash, my momma didn’t give me these curves. You’ve seen her. She works out six days a week and counts calories like a psycho. No, my curves come from years of emotional eating and an addiction to chips.”
“Girl, you are gorgeous, and there are women who would kill for your curves. I don’t know why you let your mother get you down about it.”
I sigh. “I know. I don’t know either. I guess deep down every person secretly seeks out approval from their parents, and when we fall short in areas they deem important, it makes us feel less than.” I think back to instances in my childhood that spark a heaviness in my chest. “My mom was always talking about how she needed to lose weight, or was counting calories, or would beat herself up for having a slice of cake or a scoop of ice cream. I used to think that that was how it was supposed to be, that having that kind of relationship with food is just what you had to battle being a woman. And in college especially, I struggled as I started to put on weight. That spiral is not a place I ever want to end up again.”
“I remember that. That night when you passed out on the way to that party is something I’ll never forget,” Penelope says quietly, thinking about the very instance that was prevalent in my mind. “We’d only known each other for one semester at the time, but I was freaking terrified, Charlotte.”
“I know. I hadn’t eaten for two days because I’d seen my mom a few days before that, and she made a comment about my weight, Pen. I let it get to me. It took talking to a counselor at school and meeting with a dietician for months for me to get past that, and I still catch myself struggling from time to time.”
“I remember, Charlotte, which is why I wish you could see what I see about you. You are headstrong and dedicated, hardworking and loyal. You set your mind to something, and you accomplish it. None of those qualities has to do with your pant size, waist size, or your love life.”
“Thank you,” I whisper, fighting back the tears threatening to ruin my makeup.
“I mean it. And I know you’re going along with this thing for Damien and to appease your mom, but if she can’t be proud of the woman you are on the inside, then maybe it’s time to put some hard boundaries in place with mother-dearest.”
Sniffling, I reach for a tissue to dab under my eyes. “I agree. I just need to make it past Hawaii, and then things are gonna be different.”
“You know I’m here for you no matter what,” she adds. “And I know there is a man out there that will be lucky to have you as his wife one day. And even if you never get married, my offer to ruffle feathers at the retirement center or nursing home later in life still stands.”
I laugh through my tears. “I’m down.”
“But you need to talk to your mom at some point and tell her what her bullshit does to you. She may think she’s being helpful, but she has no clue the chaos her words create in your mind.”
“I know. You’re right.” So much easier said than done though.
“Good. Now fluff your hair, put on your sexy dress, and help your nemesis kiss ass at his work dinner.”
“Ha. You know what’s funny? We actually had a normal conversation last night.”
“Well, I assumed everything went well since I didn’t get a phone call to bail you out of jail.”
“Yeah…he ordered us dinner and after we got through our initial little banter, it was…fun.” I shrug, checking my hair for more pieces that need a touch-up.
Penelope goes silent and then I hear her tapping something through the phone. “I’m sorry. I didn’t hear that. Can you say that again?”
“Oh, Jesus, Pen. Don’t make this a bigger deal than it needs to be.” I reach for the curling iron again and fix one more strand of hair.
“Forgive me, but you just said you had fun with a man I’m pretty sure you’ve had dreams about murdering.” Little does she know that’s not the only dream I’ve had about Damien lately.
Last night after I got home from his apartment, I tossed and turned in bed for an hour as I replayed our conversation and the things I learned about him. And when he took me by the chin and told me that my mom was wrong after the Facetime conversation—well, let’s just say my imagination took that scene further and there was kissing involved.
Yeah, kissing and a lot of P in V action.
“You’re not wrong, but we’re trying to get along now. We’ll see how long it lasts.”
“Just make sure to use protection, Charlotte. I’m too young to be the fun aunt just yet.”
All I can do is shake my head. “Thank you for your pearls of wisdom and selfish investment in my love life, Pen. Now, if I don’t get off the phone soon and get dressed, Damien is going to show up and I’ll still be in my robe.”
Penelope hollers. “That might not be a bad thing, girl.”
“Jesus. I have to go. I love you.”
“Love you too, lady. Good luck tonight.”
“Thank you.” I end the call and then give my hair one more spritz of hairspray, fluffing it up for extra volume. I’ll tell you one thing my mother did give me—good hair genes.
Once I slip into my dress and put on a dainty silver necklace, the buzzer for my apartment rings, alerting me that Damien is here. As he requested, I texted him my address so he could pick me up for this dinner, and surprisingly he’s right on time.
Nerves run through me as I run my hands down the front of my dress, wondering why my palms sweat so bad. It’s embarrassing really, but I can’t be the only woman that has this issue, right?
I answer the door, inhaling deeply before I pull it open and come face to face with Damien. His eyes go wide and then he mutters something behind his hand. “Fuck.”
“Uh, hello to you too.”
Shaking off the look of intensity and wonder on his face, he clears his throat and then straightens his spine. “I’m sorry. Hello. You look…” I watch his eyes dance up and down my body, leaving goosebumps in their wake.
“I hope the end of that thought is good.”
His throat bobs up and down as he swallows and then shoves his hands in his pockets. “It is. You look perfect.”
I can feel the heat traveling across my cheeks. “A compliment from Damien Shaw?”
That comment finally has him smirking. “Don’t get used to it. Although, if we survive this dinner tonight, you might become my new favorite person.”
“From rival enemy to favorite person...that’s quite the step up in your world.”
“Well, things can change pretty quickly in life—something I’ve learned throughout the years.”
“I feel like you’re trying to sound like you’ve gained some wisdom, but all you’ve done is remind me that you’re old now,” I tease.
“Hey, you’re not too far behind me, woman.”
“You’ll always be older than me though which helps me sleep better at night.”
Damien shakes his head, smiling the entire time. “Okay then. Are you ready to go?”
“Yes. Just let me grab my purse really quickly. You can come in if you want,” I call over my shoulder as I walk into the living room to grab my purse from the couch.
“Nice place, by the way,” he says as his eyes scope out my apartment. This two bedroom, two bathroom apartment was a huge step up from the studio I was living in for years. With an updated kitchen featuring white and gray granite and cupboards, a nice sized living room that fits a dark grey sectional couch that I had to have when I saw it, and my love for art displayed proudly on the walls, it feels more and more like home with each passing day. Of course, I’d love to live in a house one day with a husband and kids, but I try not to dwell on that.