The Charlotte Chronicles (Jackson Boys 1)

“And now, after all these years you’re ready to be a couple?” I finally say.

“I want us to try, Charlotte baby, to be what it was we were born for.”

“I can’t. I’ve already been stupid for nine years. I don’t want to be this stupid again. I couldn’t even look myself in the mirror this morning. You hurt me so much, Nathan. I can’t even begin to tell you how painful it was, particularly toward the end. I deserve better than what I got from you, and I don’t believe you are the man who can deliver that better for me. Not anymore.”

My quietly spoken words stagger him. I feel him stumble and then right himself. “You don’t mean that,” he insists.

“I don’t think I can trust you.”

“Will you let me try to change your mind?”

31

Charlotte

“You had sex with him, didn’t you?” Reese says with utter disgust. I should have never Skyped him when I got to my new hotel room.

“How can you tell?”

“You have that relaxed post-coital look to you. I can recognize it anywhere. Even strangers. It’s my gift.”

“I don’t feel relaxed,” I complain. “I feel awful and super tense.”

“Was it bad? Sometimes those good-looking guys are bad in bed. They hook up and never return for feedback, so they live in this blissful cloud of ignorance.” He waves a finger in a wide circle around his head which, I guess, is supposed to indicate a hovering cloud.

“I wish. It was so good. Too good.” I groan.

“Shit.”

Exactly. “He said he hadn’t slept with another woman in nine years.”

“Holy fuck. Nine years?” Reese’s eyes are wide doughnuts. Disbelief drips from every word.

“I know. I couldn’t turn him down after he said that.”

He nods in agreement. “Do you believe him?”

“I don’t know.” I want to believe him, but I’m afraid as well. If he has been true for all these years, pushing him away might be a mistake. I don’t tell Reese that Nate was insatiable and that he didn’t let me sleep more than an hour at a time before waking me with his fingers or his mouth somewhere on my body. “What do I do now? Can it be this good with someone else? I mean, I wish it had been awful. Then I could pat him on the back and say, ‘Gosh, I’m sorry you didn’t write to me for nine years, but hey I’m glad we’re friends again.’ Instead, it’s as if I’ve eaten the best thing ever and I need refills right away or I might die.”

“You’re not going to die, honey. Here’s the problem: you care about him, which is affecting how you feel in the sack. I’m going to take back my prescriptions of meaningless sex. I think that will only make you feel worse. You need to start dating, and by that I mean, sign up on a website and start searching for guys that hit every mark you’ve ever wanted. Someone who is close to their family. Someone who is busy with their own career so that they don’t mind the time you spend on yours but also someone who wants to build a future with you. Someone who makes you laugh and can communicate with you.”

“Like you only not gay.”

“Right, although we all know that I really can’t stand my family. What about your LA guy? Who is he anyway?”

“Colin Matthews.”

He sucks in a breath and follows this with a yell, “You know Colin fucking Matthews?”

I’m glad Reese is in his condo, although it’s possible that everyone in his complex heard him. I wait until he settles down before admitting, “We’ve been friends for years.”

“Charlotte Randolph, you have been holding out on me. How do you know all these fine specimens?”

“We were at the same treatment clinic in Switzerland as teenagers.”

He looks at me with chagrin, and I shrug because that part of my life is over. I used to take a cocktail of drugs daily, but I’ve been declared clean of the malignant cells since I was sixteen. I have checkups every three months, but they’ve become so perfunctory that I almost forget the reason why I have them. Check my blood. Check my urine. Make sure my shunt is still draining properly.

“I had forgotten he had cancer. Yes, go do him. He sounds perfect. And he looks perfect.” Reese’s eyes get a faraway look as if he’s imagining how perfect Colin Matthews might look without his clothes on. I’ve seen Colin in a swimsuit, and his abs are movie star perfect.

“He’s pretty gorgeous and a super guy,” I admit.

Reese shakes his head. “Why aren’t you on the phone with him right now? I’m disconnecting because you’re wasting time talking to me.” He blows me a kiss, and the screen goes blank.

Dumbfounded, I stare at the black tablet screen. I can’t call Colin up and beg him to start dating me. I don’t even think I can ask him for a date. But I can call him and tell him I’ve fucked up. Later, though. I’m not ready for that conversation.