Page 40 of Point of No Return

“Now and forever.”

I’m staring at the bandage still tightly wrapped around my palm when I hear Charlotte moving around inside. She’s quiet as a mouse, but this place is old and unforgiving. The creaking floorboards give her away, but I’m still surprised when the back door opens and she steps outside.

Though I’ve forgone a shirt in favor of the cool morning air, she’s wrapped herself in a duster cardigan. With nothing but a nod in greeting, she quietly shuts the door behind her. The bandage around her own palm is still stark white, and I notice she tucks her hands in her pockets as she shivers, looking out over the water.

“Coffee?” My voice comes out dark and gravelly from sleep, but she says nothing of it as I motion toward my mug.

Her eyes hone in on it, and I extend it toward her in silent invitation. She stares for a moment, green eyes vivid as hell, before accepting. She takes a careful whiff. Her lips taste the coffee first- the same spot mine had been. She stifles a cringe. My mouth twitches upwards as she immediately hands it back.

“That’s awful,” she says, pulling her cardigan close. “You drink it like that every morning?”

It’s not a question as much as it is one of those careful observations of hers. One that- since Josie told me she’d practically been found out- I’ve been keen to take note of. “Bit of a morning ritual, “ I tell her, draining the last few sips before toying with the rim with my thumb.

She nods, clearing her throat as she drinks in the sight of the sunrise again. It’s a sleepy sort of orange now, combined with the dark blue of dusk.

“What’s the itinerary?” she says finally.

I watch her carefully. She looks just as tired as I feel, and for half a moment, I wonder if I’m not the only one who had trouble sleeping last night.

Stop. I force myself to look away, shaking the thought.

“Our parents are joining us Thursday. That’s the only thing planned.”

“They insisted?” I nod my response. She’s quiet again, and if it weren’t for the door to give her away, I would think she’s left. “I can’t say I’m surprised.”

I raise a brow. “Would you rather I ask them to join us before then? I’m sure they’ll be enthused.”

“I wasn’t complaining,” her tone is even, but I can tell she’s doing her best to ignore my sarcasm. “Just making sure my obligations are tended to.” With that, the door creaks back open and she wordlessly steps inside.

End of conversation.

Most of the week is much of the same. We hardly see each other save for in passing. I start most of my mornings with a swim in the river. I remember swimming most summers as a kid. I worked my muscles against the current from light until dark… and the next day, I’d do it all over again. As a boy, I loved it. I never remembered how much.

By day four, we’ve fallen into the same routine of waking around six. From what the maids tell me, I’m usually gone before Charlotte emerges from her room. She eats a small breakfast and usually walks through the gardens before finding something to do that conveniently avoids me.

When I’m not swimming, I’m either lounging on the dock or puzzling away at the rundown boat in the slipway. It was my grandfather’s- and thankfully- it’s one of the few things left that my father’s money hasn’t touched.

It’s old enough that putting it back together is a challenge when most of the parts aren’t made anymore.

On Wednesday, the sun is beating down, hot as hell, when I hear Charlotte’s footsteps approach on the dock. My legs dangle over the side, an arm thrown over my eyes to ward off the sun, but I see a long, white sundress at the top of my vision.

The dress barely covers the strappy lavender bikini she has on, and I do my best not to imagine what that smooth, tanned skin looks like underneath. She isn’t looking at me. Instead, her attention is solely on the water floating beneath the wooden planks.

“Finally decided to take a dip?” I tease, resting my head back on my palm and letting the sun warm my skin.

She shucks the dress over her head and drops into a lounger at the end of the dock, and it’s a challenge not to watch her. A chunky yellow hat covers half of her face and a giant pair of dark glasses blocks the sun from her eyes.

“Could use the tan,” she replies, settling down and angling herself so the light hits her skin perfectly. The long line of her arms rest over the sides of the chair, and I catch a glimpse of her taut stomach as I sit up and rub a hand over my eyes.

God, the heat is getting to me.

“Aleks is bringing a couple of friends tomorrow,” I say toward the river. A distraction. Filler.

A hum floats out from under her hat as I stand and toss the towel I’ve been laying on at her head. I dive into the river before she can throw it back. When I come back up for air, it’s impossible for me not to look back at her.

I force myself to do laps back and forth between the dock and the riverside fifty yards across. I burn every bit of energy I have, forcing myself to tire that restless ache building in my chest.

By the time I pull myself out of the water, Charlotte has flipped onto her stomach and untied the colorful straps of her bikini, leaving the expanse of her back bare.

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