Southern Charmer (Charleston Heat 1)

A gas lamp flickers beside a glossy door.

The smell of the ocean permeates everything, blowing in on an easy breeze.

I could live here.

The thought’s ridiculous, I know. I’ve been in Charleston for all of a few days. This is the honeymoon period. Of course I’m going to fall in love with it when it’s so new, and so exciting, and so different.

It’s also not real life.

But today was kind of the perfect day. Biscuits and Eli in the morning. Writing in the afternoon. Good food and good wine at night. I can breathe here. Be myself.

I feel a pulse of guilt, same as I did last night at dinner. Here I am, starry-eyed, enjoying myself, while Teddy’s at home waiting for me. Yes, he agreed to a break. But for the past three years, all the traveling I’ve done has been with him. All the good meals I’ve eaten have been with him.

I almost feel like I’m doing something wrong by enjoying myself without Ted.

Then again, I wouldn’t be upset if Ted enjoyed himself without me. I hope he’s enjoying himself right now.

Does that mean something?

Have I missed being on my own? During my single days before Ted, I remember being desperate to have someone to experience things with. I felt so lonely. When he and I started dating, I dove in head first. Never coming up for air until now.

I want to miss Ted. But I don’t. Just like I want to be his perfect other half. But maybe I’m not.

Being away, writing my sex, eating alone—I kind of love it.

Maybe the fact that Ted and I were okay with taking a break—with each of us potentially sleeping with other people—means we don’t love each other enough to get married.

Shit.

Shit shit shit.

I have this creeping sense that I was wrong to think being in Charleston would make me realize how happy I am back home.

Instead, being down here is making me realize how unhappy I’ve been.

It sounds so stupid. How could I not know if I’m unhappy or not? But then I think about how inextricably linked other peoples’ happiness and my own are inside my head. I get a huge sense of pleasure from pleasing people. I love the praise I get for being a good daughter, a good employee. A good girlfriend. I feel so satisfied when I meet or exceed peoples’ expectations.

But once the rush of satisfaction fades, am I happy?

And why do those expectations matter so much to me in the first place?

I wonder if the reason why I feel so suffocated is because I constantly—to the point where it’s second nature—put everyone else’s needs and expectations above my own. Ted’s especially.

My life—my own goddamn life—doesn’t even belong to me. If it did, it would feel like this more often. I’d be able to be myself. Truthfully. Fearlessly. I’d do what I wanted without second guessing myself. Without apologizing.

Maybe, without even knowing it, I came to Charleston to take back my life. Not just as an experiment. Not just as a “reset”. But as a real, permanent choice. If that’s the case…

I squeeze my eyes shut against the burn of tears.

I don’t want to think about what that means. It’s terrifying. I don’t think I’m strong enough to pull off a stunt like that anyway.

Taking a deep breath, I keep walking. One foot in front of the other. That’s all I have to do right now.

I just have to keep going.* * *Back at the carriage house, I print out chapter two from My Enemy the Earl and head over to Eli’s. I secretly hope he’ll be home. I could use some company. I need to get out of my head a little. But the lights in his house are out. When I knock, all I get is a scratching sound on the other side of the door. Billy. I should offer to walk him for Eli. I imagine Chef Jackson keeps long hours over at The Pearl, which means Billy is here by himself all day.

I drop the pages in his mailbox and head home.

I call Julia, who picks up on the first ring. She’s eating something, smacking her lips as she talks.

“Sorry,” she says. “Late dinner. What’s up?”

I let out a breath. Then I blurt it all out.

“Do you ever get the feeling that you’re hiding who you really are to fit in? Do you ever want more? Not more stuff, but a life that’s more you, you know? I feel like a jerk saying this, because I already have so much, and I feel like a glutton for wanting someone—no, wait, something, I meant to say something—else. But this desire for more won’t go away. I want it to go away, Julia, because I think it’s keeping me from being happy with what I have. God, I really am a glutton, aren’t I?”