Page 46 of Counterpoint and Harmony

She lets out her breath in a huff. “You told me you needed time, but then refused to talk to me even after we got back to Spokane.”

“You didn’t even show up for the flight home!” The words explode out of me without thought.

Taking a step back, she blinks up at me in surprise. “You didn’t want to see me. So I went straight to the airport, called my old assistant, and had them send the plane for me. There didn’t seem to be a point in waiting around till the next day.” She swallows and looks away. “And by the next day my picture was everywhere. It would’ve been a disaster if I’d shown up for our flight, even if things between us hadn’t been so … broken.”

She’s quiet for a moment, examining me. I stuff my hands in my pockets. She lifts a hand in my direction, but lets it drop before actually making contact. “I had no idea you would be upset by that,” she says softly.

It’s my turn for an unconvincing shrug. “I didn’t …” I look around, unwilling to meet her gaze. “I expected you to be there. Figured it would force us to talk. But then you bailed. And then all the media attention. I decided it was easier if we just left things as they were. So I didn’t answer your calls or texts. Even when Lauren chased me down and told me you were moving back to California. I thought …” I stop and swallow. “Well, it seemed like my best chance of moving on would be to just let you go. You’d be gone. I wouldn’t see you again. Eventually I’d find a way to get over you.”

“And now?” The question is soft, her voice breaking on the second word.

When I bring my gaze back to hers, her eyes are bright with tears, but steady despite the raw emotion laid bare for me. Reaching for her, I wrap my arms around her again, and she buries her face in my chest. “And now I’ve finally realized that I don’t think I could get over you no matter how hard I tried. Even if I never saw you again, you’d always own me.”

At my words, she presses up on her toes, lifting her face to mine, capturing my mouth in a kiss, her lips salty with her tears.

When she drops back down on flat feet, I follow, kissing her again. And again. Then leading her to my bed, where I wrap my arms around her and kiss her some more. Soft, gentle kisses. No tongue. All sweetness and connection, each one an unspoken promise between us.

We don’t talk anymore, the kissing giving way to simple cuddling. Eventually Charlie’s breathing evens out, and she falls asleep in my arms.

Just like the first time she slept in my arms, I watch her, cataloguing the way her face relaxes in sleep, her soft pink lips, her lashes fanning over her cheekbones. Only this time, the circles under her eyes are darker, the way she drifts to sleep so quickly giving away how tired she really is. I know she’s up late a lot, but I always assumed she slept in later. But now I’m not so sure.

Is she taking care of herself? Maybe it’s just from traveling. Or maybe she’s getting caught in the same trap she was in before, where she’s running herself into the ground. I know her mom’s not in charge of her schedule anymore, but if that’s the way she’s always done things, it would be easy to fall back into that mode of operation.

Which makes me want to take care of her. Be there for her. Be with her. Because she needs someone who’s not on her payroll to make sure she eats and sleeps and stays healthy.

Apparently I’ve just appointed myself to that position.

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