Page 132 of Just Like Home

He shrugged. “I might’ve.”

“It’s so perfect,” she said.

“Just wait till the sun sets,” he said. “You’ll never find a better view of the stars.”

They ate and kissed and danced under the light of the moon. Charlotte was so authentic, so genuine, it had taken meeting her to realize his life with Gemma had always been built on make-believe.

As the evening wound down, they lay on a blanket in the grass, her head on his chest, and he whispered a silent prayer of thanks to a God who’d likely given up on ever hearing from him again.

In Charlotte, he had everything he’d been praying for, and because of her, he’d even let go of his anger toward Gemma and Max. Truth be told, he felt sorry for his ex-wife, because she didn’t have something real to hold on to, because she’d settled for less than she deserved because she believed it was all she was worth.

He kissed the top of Charlotte’s head.

She turned on her stomach, resting her arms on his chest and her chin on her hands. “This was a better first date than I could’ve imagined.” She inched upward and kissed him.

His hand stroked the back of her arm. “Even better than the drive-in movie theater and a shared box of popcorn?”

She frowned.

He glanced down at her. “Your dream first date.”

Now she sat up. “What are you talking about?”

He reached in his back pocket and pulled out a teal envelope with fifteen-year-old Charlotte’s handwriting on it.

She gasped. “Where did you get that?”

“I have a whole box for you,” he said.

She crisscrossed her legs and opened the envelope, pulling the letter from inside. She read, one hand over her mouth, as if she couldn’t believe this trip back in time.

“I read a couple of them,” he confessed. “And I found this.” He reached into his other pocket and pulled out a small photo—Charlotte and Julianna, wearing matching smiles and matching ballet costumes.

As she took the photo, tears filled her eyes. “Oh, my goodness.”

“You meant the world to her,” Cole said.

“She meant the world to me.” Charlotte folded the letter and stuck it back in the envelope. “What do you think she’d say if she knew about the two of us?”

He propped himself up on his elbow and drank in the sight of her, lit from behind by a full moon. “I think she’d say, ‘Finally, two of the most important people in my life are happy. All is right with the world.’”

She smiled. “I hope she would’ve approved.”

He took her hand. “She would’ve. She does. She loved us both, why wouldn’t she approve?”

Charlotte went completely still then, placing a kiss to the inside of his palm. “You’re more than I could’ve hoped for.”

He gave her a tug and she fell on him, their faces only inches apart, and as he kissed her, a familiar, unfamiliar phrase tossed around in his mind.

I love you, Charlotte.

Because as much as he’d fought against it, he couldn’t deny it was how he felt. He’d been blindsided in the very best way, and now that he knew her, he was certain he wouldn’t be able to spend a single day without her.

42

“Ididn’t tell you, but you gave me an idea the other day.”

Charlotte smiled. They sat on the dock behind his house, staring across the water—a calming ritual she’d come to love.

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