Chapter Twenty-Five
Emery
Every time I walked into the builder’s office, forty-two stories up in downtown Boston, the stress surrounding this project would thicken a little more. Today was no goddamn exception. Budgets were blown, timelines were thin, tension was mounting. The builder wanted me to offer solutions.
I had none.
We were in it. Knee deep. And we were going to have to find a way to make it all work.
But tonight, we had to back away from it all. We were going to get dressed up and break bread with the mayor.
We’d been so busy at the builder’s office, we ended up staying much longer than I’d planned and we had to leave in a rush. Charlotte didn’t have time to go back to her hotel to change and get ready for dinner. She had to do it at my house. While she was in the guest room, I was in the master, finishing up brushing my teeth.
At some point this evening, I needed to thank her. She’d done so well today. She was under a lot of pressure and hadn’t cracked. Not once and there were plenty of moments when it would have been appropriate to. She took every order, solved every problem. Everyone in that office relied on her and she delivered.
Jesse had chosen one hell of a candidate.
Several years ago when my business first started changing was when I really needed someone like Charlotte. I’d put it off for a long time, not wanting anyone in my space or to take the time to train them. Now that 3 Stuart Street had been announced and work was exploding, I needed someone competent to handle what was coming in.
Charlotte wasn’t just handling it, she was the only person holding it all together. With her help, I’d achieve everything I ever wanted.
I set my toothbrush in the holder and wiped my face with a towel, tightening the one that was wrapped around my waist as I walked over to the closet. I chose a pair of navy slacks and a striped button-down and tucked the shirt in with a belt. I looked at my option for shoes and wasn’t sure if I should go with the brown or the black. I knew nothing about fashion. I always relied on my wife to pick these things out.
The same way I would right now.
I found my phone on the dresser and called my wife. She didn’t answer and after four rings, I heard her voicemail. By the time she heard my message, I’d probably already be at the restaurant, so I hung up.
I wished she’d answered. I hadn’t spoken to her all day, and I just wanted to hear her voice.
I missed her.
Sighing, I returned to the closet, staring at both pairs of shoes, still in the same predicament. I went with the brown ones and once I finished getting ready, I headed downstairs to meet Charlotte in the kitchen. She was standing at the counter with her back to me, wearing a tight, black dress that revealed the entire outline of her body. It stopped just below her knees and ended with heels that were several inches tall.
Every man in that restaurant would be staring at her tonight, including the two we were going to be eating with.
I shook my head. “Charlotte,” I said from the entryway of the kitchen.
She slowly turned around. The front of her dress was as tight as the back, the material traveling all the way up to her neck.
Every one of her curves was on display.
Jesus Christ.
“Hey, Emery. What’s up?”
A few seconds passed before I spoke. “I’ve got to ask you something.”
“Okay.”
I pointed down. “Are the brown shoes all right or should I change to black?”
I felt like a fool asking, but this dinner was important. All the details mattered. And I had a feeling Charlotte was the kind of woman who enjoyed being asked those types of questions.
Just like my wife.
She smiled. “The brown would be my choice. You did good.” She handed me my jacket, which she must have grabbed from the coat closet.
I took it and thanked her and added, “Are you ready to go?”
She layered up at the same time, hooking her overnight bag across her shoulder. “Ready and starving. The driver is waiting for us outside. He’s going to stay at the restaurant while we eat and then he’ll take you home. I’ll hop in a taxi after dinner or something.”
I locked the front door behind us and joined her on the steps. “No way,” I said. “I’m not going to send you in a separate car and worry about you getting to the hotel. I’ll take you there myself and make sure you get there safely.”
She looked at me before we reached the SUV. “Okay.”
The driver opened the door to the backseat, taking the bag from Charlotte’s hand, before she climbed inside. I slid in after her, and we immediately merged into the road. It would take us about fifteen minutes to get to the restaurant. It was on the other side of the city and traffic was never light at this hour.
“What’s Jesse up to tonight?” Charlotte asked after there had been silence for several blocks.
I’d been looking out the window. I shifted my body toward her. “Last I heard, she wanted to stay in and cook the kids’ dinner.”
I took out my phone and saw there was a text from her on the screen. I hadn’t heard it come in, although she’d sent it two minutes ago. It was a photo of Jess and the kids with tomato sauce on their faces from the stuffed shells she made. Each of them were in a different pose, grinning.
I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen my wife smile that hard.
It had been years.
“I’m sure the kids will really enjoy that,” Charlotte replied.
Jesse needed those kids right now and she needed to be surrounded by their laughter. It was the only thing that was going to get her through this.
I looked up from the phone and said, “Not as much as Jesse will.”