There was no doubt that something was seriously off with Charlotte since we’d returned from the Adirondacks.
For the past couple of days, she’d been avoiding me, and while I knew that was really for the best, my curiosity got to me. I scheduled her to come help me at the showing of one of the more spectacular properties of my entire career. She’d insisted on getting a car service and not driving out to the Hamptons with me, making up some sorry excuse about her schedule. But I knew it was because she was avoiding being alone with me. That should have made me happy. But I was perplexed. Was this about my rejecting her advances? I couldn’t be sure.
The Easthampton house was so close to the water it was practically sitting in the ocean. The twenty-million-dollar, European-style estate was designed with the finest imported materials from floor to ceiling and wasn’t going to stay on the market long. We had three appointments in a row, and I fully expected to be closing a deal by tomorrow once the three parties had time to mull over their competitive offers.
When the showings were over, Charlotte and I had a chance to really talk for the first time all day. She’d taken off her shoes as we strolled along in the sandy water.
“Let me ask you something, Reed.”
“I got the sense from your enthusiasm in showing this property, from the light in your eyes when you talked about its Gatsby-like, stately elegance . . . that you’re very fond of it. But would you actually live here, in this house?”
That was a no-brainer. “I absolutely would, yes.”
“What if I told you I wouldn’t live here because it’s so close to the water that I’d be afraid of what might happen if there were ever a major hurricane?”
“I’d say you were seriously crazy.”
She tilted her head. “Really? Why?”
Where was she going with this?
“Because this house is the most amazing property I’ve ever had the privilege to represent. To not want to live in it, to not experience all of its splendor on a daily basis because you’re worried about the potential of a storm, is ludicrous.”
“You don’t think that my fear should stop me from enjoying this beautiful house to its fullest—”
“No, I don’t.”
She added, “Because the storm may never come.”
“That’s right.”
“So, if this house represented life . . . then you don’t believe you should live your life based on fear.”
The serious look on her face gave me pause. I stopped walking. The ocean breeze was blowing her hair around. The way she was staring into my eyes . . . something was not right. Charlotte was asking me that question for a reason.
We weren’t really talking about the house.
Suddenly, a rush of adrenaline ran through me. Had she figured it out? Had she somehow gotten access to my medical records? Could she possibly know about my diagnosis? No. That’s impossible. I’d done everything in my power to keep all that information private.
But this was Charlotte Darling we were talking about. Anything was possible.
I had to know.
“What are you really talking about here, Charlotte?”
She wouldn’t answer me immediately. Then she simply said, “I know, Reed.”
“You know . . . what?”
“I know you have MS.”
My heart felt like it fell to my stomach. Her words were like a sucker punch to the gut. I felt simply . . . naked.
“Tell me how you found out,” I demanded.
Her face was turning crimson. “It was an accident. Please don’t be mad. I’d gone to the hospital to check on you. I was standing outside the door when you were talking to your doctor. I can’t help what I heard.”
While my instinct was to blow up at her, that wouldn’t be fair. She hadn’t pried. She hadn’t done anything wrong. And the concern in her eyes was genuine.
I placed my hand on her cheek. “Come sit with me.”
Charlotte followed me over to a large rock that overlooked the ocean.
“You’re not mad?”
Letting out a long breath, I silently shook my head no.
“Thank God. I thought you would be.”
“A part of me is relieved that you know. But I need you to understand that this doesn’t change anything, Charlotte.”
“Listen. I’ve been doing lots of research and—”
“Let me finish,” I interrupted.
“Alright.”
“I know you’ve probably scoured the internet for information that will make you feel better about this. I know you probably have a million positive spins on it. But the truth is . . . I can’t ignore what’s there. The moments where I have difficulty with mobility, the moments where my vision blurs or my legs feel numb. The times where I feel like I’m losing my mind. They’re fleeting, but they are there.”
I inhaled some of the ocean air to compose myself. “It’s all whispering to me right now, but the truth is . . . this will catch up with me someday. It’s enough as it is without having to worry about being a burden on someone. I can’t live knowing that might happen, Charlotte. The one favor Allison ever did for me was to leave me before it got to that point.”
She raised her voice. “Allison made a huge mistake in thinking a life with you wouldn’t be worth it. I will never see things the way you do, Reed. I will never understand how someone wouldn’t accept even limited quality time with the person they love over none at all. Then again, it’s not love if you could walk away from someone. Life’s not perfect. I could get hit by a bus tomorrow. In fact, I almost did this morning!”
I wasn’t supposed to laugh at that. It wasn’t funny at all, but somehow the way she’d said it made me chuckle.
Charlotte continued, “That said, I understand your fears. The one thing I can’t do is force you to see things the way I do. If this is how you truly feel, then I want you to know you’ll always have a friend in me at the very least.” She then looked down at her phone and stood up suddenly.
“I have to leave.”
“Where are you going?”
“My ride is here.”
I stood up. “I assumed you were heading back to the city with me.”
“No. I called the car service.”
My eyes moved back and forth in confusion. “Alright.”
Even though she had insisted on leaving, Charlotte was not okay.
She looked like she was on the verge of tears when she said, “Bonnie Raitt was right.” Then she just walked away, leaving me standing there by the ocean.
Bonnie Raitt was right.
What did that mean? Then it hit me. The song.
“I Can’t Make You Love Me.”
I stayed at the beach for a while, pondering Charlotte’s words. Not to mention that damn song was now in my head. I was determined not to let her sway me. Things were the way they had to be. Charlotte couldn’t consider the long-term implications of being with me because she only saw the world through rose-colored glasses. I had to be the sensible one in this equation. I was sure she was imagining the best possible outcome, not seeing me potentially restricted to a bed or confined to a wheelchair, unable to communicate or effectively eat. But the fact remained that the worst-case scenario wasn’t out of the realm of possibility.
Allison had made the decision she thought was best for herself and assumed the least risk as a result. She wouldn’t have a husband with a debilitating illness interfering with her freedom. That was what I wanted for Charlotte, to be able to live out all her fuck-it dreams without anything holding her back.
My phone rang, interrupting my thoughts. Checking the caller ID, I could see it was Josh, the private investigator.
I picked up. “This is Reed.”
“Eastwood . . . I’m checking on that Charlotte Darling investigation you gave me up in Poughkeepsie. I think I found something.”
