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Something cracks in my chest, like a dam springing a leak. Hadn’t I wanted the same thing when my life fell apart?
She’s threatening the safety of the wall I’ve built over the years—the wall that keeps emotion out.
“You deserve that, Charly.”
“So do you.” She raises her water bottle between us. “So, screw Greg the Cheater, and screw The Little bitch Mermaid you dated. We’re better off without ‘em.”
A loud laugh bursts from my chest, and I tap my bottle against hers. “Cheers to that.”
When we get back to the house later in the afternoon, Charly insists I shower first so she can write about the day in her journal. I’d love to know what she’s writing—if anything in there is about me. So much so that I’m tempted to read it when she leaves it on the island in the kitchen and heads to the bathroom when it’s her turn.
I stare down at the yellow quilted cover, and Edward cocks his head to the side.
Don’t do it, his eyes warn.
“Maybe just one page.” I flick open the cover and scan the first entry, my eyes landing on the words, ass of a grandson. I suppose she’s not wrong. I was an ass the first night she was here.
I want to keep reading. Want to know her thoughts, especially after what I shared with her today.
I glance at the hallway, and the sound of running water lets me know it’s safe to continue. My insecurities get the best of me, and I turn the pages until I get to today’s entry:
June 15th
Dear Mom,
Today was amazing. Bryce took me canoeing. It’s definitely overrated. I think my arms are going to be sore for a week. But the weather was perfect, and the water was so calm. I’m glad I didn’t take Jared up on his offer to take me. I would’ve spent the day feeling uncomfortable, and it would’ve soured the experience.
My favorite part was when Bryce surprised me with a New York-themed picnic. He’s what you would’ve called a good egg. He’s thoughtful, caring, and sweet—when he lets himself be. He’s so guarded, but when he opens up, it’s beautiful. He’s real, and genuine, and ... I don’t know. I don’t want to get ahead of myself, being that we just met, but it feels like there’s something between us. A spark. Like he gets me. Greg never got me. (I know, I know. You told me so.) It’s been so long since I’ve felt like this. I wish you were here to meet him.
I miss you, Mom.
I read Charly’s words a dozen times, over and over again, and my heart swells.
There is something between us. I feel it, and now I know she feels it too. But reading what she isn’t telling me makes me want things I shouldn’t. Her stay here is only temporary, and then she’ll be miles away. She’d chalk it up to a summer fling, and something about that doesn’t sit well with me.
So I close the book, and head to my bedroom.
This was a bad idea.
I shouldn’t have read her journal. It’s an invasion of her privacy. A violation of her trust.
I won’t do this again.
Charly
I’m lounging by the pool with my earbuds in when a huge cloud moves in front of the sun, casting a shadow over me.
“Seriously?” I pop open one eye, and gasp. “Bryce, shit. I’m going to get you a bell to put around your neck.”
He chuckles and hold out a tall glass of iced tea. “That’s no way to talk to your pool boy.”
I arch an eyebrow as I tug out the earbuds. “If you were my pool boy, you wouldn’t be wearing a shirt.”
“Are you telling me to take off my clothes?”
I lean back against the chair, and give him a nonchalant shrug. “I mean, I wouldn’t be mad about it if you were suddenly shirtless.”
He grins. “Should I fan you with a giant leaf, as well?”
