What the fuck was Charlie thinking, getting engaged to a guy like this?
“I disagree. And I have a feeling this friend is much better off here than in New York with you.”
“H-how do you—who are you?”
I smile pleasantly just to piss him off. I extend my hand to shake. “Hi, I’m Owen Dawson. And Charlie and I are back together.”
Todd stands up so fast the bar stool falls to the ground behind him. Then he balls his fist and tries to punch me right in the face.Chapter 33Charlie“Hey,” I say to Owen’s voicemail. “I know you’re still working, so I’ll go ahead and meet you at the restaurant so we don’t miss our reservation. If you’re going to be late because of work, no big deal. Just let me know and I’ll order an extra glass of wine and bring a book to keep myself entertained.” I walk out of the office and head toward my car. “And I feel like saying I wanted to talk this morning was more dramatic than it needed to be. I do want to talk, but not in a bad way. It’s in an ‘I want to be with you and still want what I wanted before’ way. Marriage and children—not right away,” I add quickly. “But they have to be on the horizon, and this time…this time I don’t think it’ll be an issue. I’m looking forward to seeing—and doing you—later.”
It’s an awkward as fuck voicemail, but whatever. It’s Owen. He never makes me feel awkward. Putting my phone in my purse, I pause at a crosswalk.
“Charlotte!”
I look up, not sure if someone is talking to me or someone else. Everyone here calls me Charlie, which I prefer. The only person who always called me by my full name was—
You have got to be fucking kidding me.
“Todd?”
He’s across the street, separated by the passing cars. I could turn and run back into the office, lock the door behind me, and wait until he goes away. Or I could face him now and get this over with.
“What do you want?” I ask when he crosses the street. There’s a bruise on his face and what looks like dried-up blood under his nose. Did he get into a fight?
“You,” he pants. “I want you.”
“Okay, good for you.” I shake my head and start to walk forward. He grabs my shoulder.
“Wait, Char.”
“We’re over, Todd. What you did was unforgivable, and like I said, we had our issues before. We should have ended things long before then.”
“Come back to New York.”
“Didn’t you hear anything I just said?”
“I did.” He brings his hand to his forehead and winces. There’s another bruise along his hairline. “And that’s why I need to tell you something.”
“What, Todd? What could you possibly have to tell me that’s so important?”
“It’s about Owen.”
“What about Owen?” I roll my eyes. I’ve mentioned Owen before. Todd knows we dated in the past, but he had no idea that I still had feelings for him. Hell, I didn’t even let myself acknowledge my feelings for him.
“I know you guys are together.”
“Yes, we are. Are you going to scold me for moving on or something? Get over it, Todd. You slept with someone else while we were engaged.”
“If you’re together then he’s cheating on you.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“Is it? I went to that bar, what’s it called, Getaway? He was there. With another woman. Some pretty blonde with a tight ass—”
“Seriously?”
He shakes his head. “We got to talking and it came out who I was and who he was…and then when I was leaving, I saw him in the parking lot with some other girl. I’m so sorry, Charlie. I confronted him and he hit me.”
I cross my arms, looking at Todd with disdain. “Whatever, Todd.”
“He’s no good for you, Charlie.”
“And you are?”
“No,” he says, which surprises me. “Neither of us are. If there’s a type I know, it’s assholes. Trust me, that guy is an asshole. You said it yourself about him breaking up with you in college.”
“That was a long time ago, and I’m done with this conversation, Todd. Owen and I have a date tonight, and I need to go home and get ready for it.” Without another look, I cross the street, running to avoid being hit by a car. My heart is in my throat, along with chunks of rising vomit.
I call Owen as soon as I get into my car. He doesn’t answer. I call again and get sent to voicemail after one ring. What the hell is going on?
Nothing. Nothing is going on.
Owen isn’t a playboy anymore. I didn’t freak him out by leaving a voicemail saying that I want to get married and have his babies. Because he wants it too. I know he does.
I start the car, roll down the windows, and drive to my parents’ house to get another dress to wear tonight. I might as well take all my clothes over to Owen’s at this point. Or enough to get me through the next month…when I move into my own apartment.