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I'm not sure I'll ever see him again, not unless I call him, as he just said, which I won't. I won't be allowed to call him.
I don't know how, but we seem to be on the same page, because in a moment of desperation, we lean over and hug each other. He squeezes me to his chest, burying his face in my neck; in my hair. I wrap my arms around his waist and hold him like it's the last time, breathing in his scent; taking in the warmth of his body.
“Goodbye, Charlie.”
28
I step inside my apartment and stare at everything, frozen, remembering when Charlie said my place is incredibly clinical. It is. I've never really noticed before. The double height ceilings and the vast curving walls are gleaming white with no imperfections, cold to the eye. The arc staircase beyond the kitchen consists of smooth brushed steel, the floating steps wrapped in white veneer. The furnishings are white and ultra-modern with sharp edges. Even the air smells clinical with bleach.
It feels like forever since I've been here.
Shutting the front door, I wander around the dining table and through the kitchen area, where I put down my keys and my gun. I flinch at the sound of the keys clanging against the countertop.
It's so quiet in here.
Charlie's house is quiet too but it's so full of things... so full of personality. I miss his house already, the way it smells of him, the homely feel to it...
Stopping in my lounge area, I gaze deadpan out of the windows. The sky is dark gray and almost breaking with rain, the clouds twisting and churning to the tune of the wind. It was sunny this morning. Now, it's gloomy.
I lower onto the middle of the leather couch, holding my phone in my hands, trying to remember a time when I felt comfortable here.
I can't.
It doesn't feel like home. It never has.
Warm tears spill down my cheeks, spitting over my hands in my lap.
I cannot believe Charlie just left me here. We still have a week and he just left me?
Hunching over, I break into mute sobs, my chest aching so badly.
In one day I've discovered that my entire life might have been a lie, that Maksim might've outbid a government agency for me, but none of that bothers me. I don't give a shit about anything before Charlie anymore.
He said he loves me and that he wants me to choose to leave Maksim and go with him for myself. No one has ever given a shit about what I want. No one has even thought to give a shit about what I want.
I cry harder and louder, to the point where I can’t really breathe, hoping it'll make the pain in my chest go away. It doesn't. If anything, crying makesthisseem more real.
Why has Charlie played Devil's Advocate by forcing my hand like this? He knows me. He knows I can't make such a massive decision for myself.
A part of me wishes he’d listened to his brother and just taken me—I can't bear to think of a life without him in it, a life where only Maksim matters.
Panic rolls in my stomach as I think of Maksim and I start trembling, my mind whirling.
He might be here soon, and then... and then everything goes back to the way it was beforehim. Before Charlie.
Maksim might want to hit me—the satisfaction he derives from causing me pain might be stronger than ever before because we've never been separated for so long.
I'm scared.
I think about the first time I saw Charlie in Maksim's office, how crafty and careless he was, and how wicked he looked. He's changed so much over the past few months. He's not the man I first met.
He said he loves me.
Why does that hurt so fucking much to know?
My phone vibrates in my hand with an incoming call from Maksim and my stomach coils with dread.
I haven't spoken to him in so long that he almost feels like a stranger. I don't want to speak to him. I want to go back to Charlie, but I can't.
