Page 58 of If My Wishes Came True
My heart will break, yes. But now I know that, if I work hard enough, the pieces will come back together.
“I don’t want to be a mom,” I tell him, my pulse racing. “I don’t want children. Is that…a dealbreaker?”
When Charlie’s brow unfurrows, I wonder if I’m imagining things. But then, he says, “No, Jenna. It’s not.”
“It isn’t?” I have to be sure I heard him right.
He smiles. “It’s not a dealbreaker. I always thought I could go either way. If my partner wanted children, I wouldn’t have ruled it out. But lately, since I’ve become more serious about pursuingtravel photography, I can’t imagine how young kids would fit into that lifestyle. Plus, I never dreamed of becoming a father. Maybe it’s the strained relationship I have with my dad, I don’t know. But I have four nieces and three nephews I adore, and that’s enough for me.”
Yet again, he says all the right things.
I’m so relieved, I begin to cry. Charlie gives me a questioning look.
“When I fill you in on what I’ve been working on in therapy, this reaction will make sense,” I say with a little laugh through my tears. “Suffice it to say, dating is sometimes tricky for a woman who doesn’t want kids.”
Charlie moves around the table to sit next to me, then puts his arm around my shoulder. “Jenna, nothing could be a dealbreaker for me when it comes to you. Nothing.”
The intensity in his gaze leaves no room in my mind for doubt. I believe him.
This isn’t the end. This isn’t where the other shoe drops.
This very well might be where my wishes come true.
Before I leave for dinner at Charlie’s place, I spritz perfume on all my pulse points. And over my cleavage—just in case.
My freshly washed hair has the perfect amount of volume in its signature long bob. I’m wearing my favorite smoky gray eyeliner that makes my green eyes pop. And my lips are a kissable, velvety pink.
I’m in the beige bodycon dress that I was wearing in my client’s viral video. The one that perfectly hugs my curves.
I guess you could say I’m trying to tempt fate. Or, at the very least, I’m trying to tempt Charlie. After all, he was the one who took his shirt off during yoga this morning, and I haven’t been able to think straight ever since.
This dress is payback.
I grab the plate of brownies I made from scratch for dessert, and head down the hall. A smile blooms on my lips as I envision the look on Charlie’s face when he sees me dressed up for the first time.
And the reaction I get when he opens the door is every bit as satisfying as I imagined. His eyes widen, his lips part, and he takes in a quick, ragged breath.
What I didnotanticipate was the way my heart would stop the moment my gaze landed on him.
He looks like a supermodel. He’s in perfectly tailored charcoal dress pants, and a light gray button-down shirt that fits like a glove over the ripples of muscles I’ve been thinking about all day. His chestnut hair is styled to bring out the little bit of curl I love so much. And he smells so damn good, I want to rip his shirt open and?—
“Wow,” he sighs out, running a hand over his hair. “You look amazing, Jenna.”
Judging by the flush in his cheeks, I’d say my dress did its job. He’s definitely tempted.
And the feeling is mutual.
“Thanks,” I say, standing on my tiptoes and wrapping the hand that’s not holding brownies around his neck. I steal a glance into his apartment behind him, which is immaculately clean. His aesthetic is modern and minimalist, with neutral colors and framed black-and-white photographs on the wall, highlighting his passion. The vibe is sexy—just like him.
When we stopped by yesterday so he could grab his camera on our way to the park, it didn’t look like this. He hadn’t anticipated company, and he apologized profusely for the disarray, even though I’ve seen bachelor pads in way worse shape. Charlie’s mess just made him more interesting, because I got a glimpse into his real life. There were stacks of photographybooks on the couch I could tell he’d been flipping through. Travel magazines strewn on the coffee table. Weights on the floor near the windows, where he’d been working out. A Dartmouth sweatshirt thrown over a chair, and an empty cup of takeout coffee here and there. It was a relief to see this more human side of Charlie, beneath the picture-perfect exterior.
But tonight, his place is as spruced up and sparkling as he is, and I don’t mind that either. It’s sweet that he put so much effort into impressing me.
Although he didn’t need to. If there’s one thing I know for certain, it’s that Charlie Sutton is the best thing that’s happened to me in a very long time.
Maybe ever.
He takes his palm to the small of my back and presses me into him as our lips meet.
