Chapter Twenty-two

Charlie

The door to the conference room opens behind me. I whirl around, blinking back my emotions. I’ve been out here waiting to come in and be briefed on the case. Jack Richards, our client, is old and sexist and “didn’t trust a woman” to do his legal work. Being old and sexist is exactly why he’s a regular client.

“I need to go,” I tell Owen. Closing my fingers around the key, I walk forward trying to block Owen from my dad’s point of view.

“Owen Dawson,” Dad says, and I know I’m too late. “I haven’t seen you in years. How have you been?”

Gritting my teeth, I step into the conference room and let go of everything else around me so I can focus on the client and case at hand. In New York, I specialized in real estate law. Here, I’ll be more of a Jack-of-all-trades when it comes to counseling clients, and right now I want to tell Jack Richards he’s a big bag of dicks and deserves to be sued for firing a flat-chested cashier from his store after telling her she should consider getting breast implants. But I also like to win, and I know that my strong desire to win every case comes from a subconscious need for control.

There is no controlling Owen Dawson, and that freaks me out enough on its own.

I know you can’t control another person. Hell, I wouldn’t want to have that sort of control. It’d be wrong and weird and would go to my head. But knowing what’s going to happen—to an extent—it’s always been my safety net.

Going back to Owen’s place tonight…I have no idea what that will bring. He says he’s changed and after last night I’m starting to see it.

“Are we going to get started or what, sweetheart?” Jack grumbles.

Narrowing my eyes, I look down at him. “I am not your sweetheart. I will be your lawyer once Timothy retires, and you will treat me with respect. Yes, I’m a woman, and yes, I am younger than you, but I graduated with honors and spent the last few years representing some of New York’s biggest real estate moguls in court. And my record? It’s impressive. Very impressive. I’ll show you the numbers if you so desire to see them, but trust me when I say I’m good. I like to win.” I put my hands on the table and lean forward.

“We both know you are guilty as hell. What you did to those women makes you a grade-A scumbag. But like I said, I like to win and I hardly ever lose.” I hold Jack’s gaze for another second.

“Then what’s the problem?” he asks, getting a little flustered.

“The problem is that there are two sides to every lawsuit. Two teams, if you will. I haven’t signed onto anything yet.” I push off the table and straighten up, crossing my arms. “I am just a silly woman. Maybe I’m better suited to go and represent the other party?”

Jack’s face pales and he leans back in the chair, swallowing hard. The door opens again, and my dad walks in. He warned me that Jack was a crotchety old coot.

“How are things going in here?” Dad asks.

I tear my eyes away from Jack and look at Dad, smiling. “Perfect. We’re ready to start.”

*

The key sits on my desk, shining in the sunlight like some sort of demonic beacon. If I pick it up, the Devil himself will be summoned. Biting my lip, I reach for it, snatching my hand back at the last second.

I don’t want to summon him.

Don’t want to get the offerings ready.

But if anyone can make you bend your will, it’s the Devil himself.

“Charlie?”

Blinking rapidly, I grab a pen from my desk and put it to my notebook, pretending to be writing notes. All that comes out is the letter “O” followed by a “W”.

Dammit.

“Hey, Dad! What’s going on?”

“I wanted to see how you’re doing after talking to Jack Richards.”

“Really?” My brows go up. “Dad, I told you, I’m used to worse people than that.”

“Fine,” Dad sighs, relenting much easier than I thought. “I wanted to know why Owen Dawson was here this afternoon.”

“Tulip is staying at his house,” I blurt the first thing that comes to mind. “So the dogs don’t get after her.”

Dad’s head moves up and down slowly, and I fear his judgment. I’m an adult yet I still crave his approval.

“Okay,” he says and doesn’t press. “So should I tell Mom to set your place at dinner tonight?”

“Yes,” I insist. “I’ll be home for dinner.”

“Just dinner?” Dad smirks. “Spoken like a true lawyer. Just be careful, honey.”

“I am being careful,” I promise, and Dad just smiles once more before closing the office door. My eyes fall shut and I let out a deep breath. I feel like I almost got caught.

But why?

My phone buzzes before I can dive in to my own head too deep. Pushing my hair back, I grab my phone from my desk and see a text.

Marcus: Hey, hun. Haven’t heard from you in a while. Everything okay?

Me: I think so. Maybe?

Marcus: You don’t sound so sure. What’s going on?

Me: Owen. That’s what’s going on. And also, what’s not going on.

Marcus: Did you sleep with him?

Me: Not yet.

I hit send without thinking and immediately wince.

Me: I mean no. I won’t. I can’t.

Marcus: Sounds like you want to. I stalked him on I***a. Just do him.

He sends a slew of fire, eggplant, and heart-eye emojis after that and I set my phone back down. I push the chair away from my desk and spin it around, blowing out a slow breath. I’m bored here and I wish I could distract myself with work and not get stuck on memory lane, remembering all the good times with Owen.

Planting my hands on my desk, I close my eyes. I’m tired and want a nap, and I’m definitely not going back to Owen’s for the night. Because his body against mine when he came into the office this morning didn’t feel good.

And I certainly didn’t react to his touch.

Or crave more of it.

Getting up, I go into the break room and get some coffee. Then I spend the rest of the morning going through case files and updating my dad’s computer. I take my lunch right at noon, and since I didn’t have a chance to make anything this morning, I head downstairs to go into town and find something to eat.

“Hey, Charlotte,” Amy, the firm’s secretary says as I pass by.

“Hey! How are you?”

“Good. So how do you know Owen Dawson?”

“We’re, uh, friends.” I adjust my purse over my shoulder.

“Friends, huh? We were friends before too.” She gives me a wink.

“No, it’s not like that.”

“I won’t tell if you don’t tell.”

Shaking my head, I move closer to her desk. “How long ago were you two, uh…”

“Friendly?”

“Yeah.”

She shrugs. “A couple of months ago.” Biting her lip, she drags one finger over her collarbone. “Best night of my life.”

I do my best not to shudder. “I’m sure it was.”

“Oh, it was. I mean, have you seen the guy?” she laughs.

I laugh too and then turn to leave. I knew Owen had gotten quite the reputation around Eastwood, but I didn’t think it would bother me. Because things can only bother you when you care about them.

*

“Where were you last night?” Carly looks up from the Barbie house and narrows her eyes.

“With a friend.”

“You have friends?”

“Hah.” I sit on the floor and take off my heels. “I might have one or two left in this town.”

Libby hands me a doll. “Play birthday party with me!”

“For a few minutes,” I tell her, taking the Barbie.

“Was this friend tall, handsome, and has a name rhyming with Smowen?”

“Smowen? Really?”

“That’s not a word, Mommy,” Libby says pointedly. “Did you have a sleepover with that man with the ducks?”

Carly snorts a laugh. “Ducks, right. That’s what you were doing wasn’t it, sis. Looking at his ducks.”

“They are geese and yes, I did stay there. But mostly so Tulip could get some peace and quiet and also because it was storming and you know how I’m still scared of storms.”

“You don’t have to be scared of storms.” Libby pats my hand. “Thunder is just God bowling.”

“Right.” I smile and nod. “I’ll remember that next time.”

“Honey, do you want a snack?” Carly asks Libby, who nods. Waving me into the kitchen, Carly grabs my arm and pulls me around the fridge. “You slept with Owen! What? I mean, not that I blame you, but what?”

“I didn’t sleep with him,” I press. “He invited me over for dinner and by the time I went to leave, it was pretty late and storming. He offered up the guest room for me, and I was more or less alone the whole night.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“It means, he came in and sat with me when the storm was at its worst. He knows I’m scared of storms.”

“And he didn’t try to make a move?”

“Nope. He was a perfect gentleman.” My heart swells a little when I say the words out loud.

“That’s pretty sweet, actually.”

“I suppose.”

“It’s irrefutable evidence or whatever you lawyers would call it. Are you going back tonight?”

“Tulip is there, so I am, but I’ll probably come back home.”

“Wait, he’s babysitting your cat too?”

“Yeah. He doesn’t have any pets and said it’s not a big deal.”

“Sounds like he’s really trying.” She opens the fridge and takes out a bowl of grapes.

“He tried before.” I pick a grape off of the bunch and pop it in my mouth. “Do you remember how I barely survived our breakup?”

“I do. You kind of went all Bella Swan and didn’t eat or sleep or shower.”

“I was not that bad, but I’ll admit, I felt like my heart had been literally ripped out of my chest. But what hurt even worse was coming home later that year, still just barely surviving, and hearing about how Owen had slept with half of Eastwood.”

“I remember that too. You drank all the wine I’d been saving for Easter dinner.”

“I still don’t like Merlot because of that.” Letting out a deep breath, I break off a few more grapes, watching Carly cut a few in half to give to Libby. “That hurt cut deep, though, knowing how easily he was able to move on. I didn’t so much as look at another guy for over a year.”

“Did you ever think that was his coping mechanism?”

I look at my sister incredulously. “You’re defending him?”

“No, not at all, and if it was his coping mechanism, it’s kind of piggish, but that was a long time ago.”

“People don’t change.”

“No, not really. But they grow. Just look at you.”

“I’m pretty much the same person I was in high school.”

Carly laughs. “Physically, you really haven’t aged much, which is totally unfair. I mean, look at how perky your boobs are and you have no stretch marks.”

“I haven’t had three kids, either.”

“But what I’m saying is, look at how far you’ve come. You moved to New York, Char. That’s huge!”

“But now I’m back.”

“Right, because you were mature enough to put your pride aside and admit the city life wasn’t what you wanted. I know how hard quitting your job and coming back home was. And we both know you could have moved to a new part of the city, gotten another fancy job, and lived your life fairly confident you’d never run into Todd again.”

What she’s saying is true. You can blend in like the best of them in the city, and I’d already been approached by another firm about joining them.

“All I’m saying,” she goes on, “is that I like having you back in Eastwood, and part of me wants you to get back together with Owen so you have a reason to stay. And I want you to be happy too. He made you happy once.”

He did. But he also broke my heart into a million tiny pieces.