Page 156 of With a Cherry On Top

“No, we can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because—” She looks away, eyes closing. “Because...we’ve only just met. There’s a lot you don’t know about me. And some of it may...”

Break me? Is that what she’s talking about? The thing she’ll do that will push me away? I remember that conversation, how she was so adamant about it.

“Charlotte, I don’t want you to think like that.” I cradle her face in my hands, my thumbs brushing over the wet skin beneath her eyes. “There’s nothing you can do to push me away.”

She looks down. “Aaron?—”

“I won’t leave, and that’s the end of it. It’s just not going to happen.” I bring our foreheads together. “I never wanted perfect, okay? Just someone who tries as hard as I do.”

Charlotte’s eyes shine, her lips trembling like she wants to speak, but I don’t let her. I kiss her instead. I pour everything into it, every bit of longing, every ounce of certainty, hoping she can feel what I mean.

When she pulls back, she’s shaking.

“Aaron, there’s something...something you should know. About me. And I want to tell you, but I’m so...soafraid.” Her teary gaze meets mine as I pull back slightly, and I can taste her terror.

Whatever this is, it’s big.

“Okay, let’s hear it.”

“But you have topromise?—”

The front door opens and slams closed, a thunderous echo that shatters the bubble we’ve been wrapped in. Instantly, the warmth is gone. The affection. I feel Charlotte stiffen before I even fully register the sound.

In a blink, it’s sheer, unfiltered panic.

“Charlotte?” Beatrice’s voice carries from the corridor, clipped and expectant.

Shit. Shit. Shit.What is she doing here? According to her schedule, she should be out on a Friday afternoon.

Charlotte jolts upright, scrambling to put some clothes on, her hands moving so fast they fumble with the fabric. My pulse pounds through my skull, an urgent drumbeat ofget up,get out,get the fuck out.

The handle rattles.

“Open this door, Charlotte.”

My body locks up. I take a step back, then another, as if putting distance between myself and the door will somehow erase the fact that I am very much here. In Charlotte’s bedroom. Smelling like her.

She turns to me, wide-eyed, her breath coming fast. “Just a second!” she calls out, and then she’s grabbing my wrist and tugging me toward the closet.

Seriously? Am Iseriouslyhiding in her closet?

There’s no time to argue. The handle rattles again, more insistent this time.

I’ve barely stumbled into the closet before the door is yanked shut behind me. The space is cramped, filled with the scent of her perfume, her clothes brushing against my bare skin. My heart hammers against my ribs as I listen to her footsteps hurry back across the room.

“What the hell are you doing in here?” Beatrice asks, her tone sharp as she bursts inside. Through the gap in the closet’s door, I see her enter the room and look around with a grimace.

“What? I was on the phone.”

Beatrice’s eyes narrow. “Were you recording one of yourvideos?”

Holy . . . fucking . . . shit. Is she talking about what I think?

Charlotte hesitates, lips parting. “What—videos?”

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