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Charlie: I assume you found the keys. Me: And a family of raccoons. Charlie: I was expecting a thank you for my hard work and kindness. Me: Thank you. Charlie: Say it like you mean it. Me: Are you always this infuriating? Charlie: No. Charlie: Usually I’m worse.
“It’s nothing personal. You’re just not my type.” He puts a hand on his chest, as if offended. “I’m everyone’s type.”
“Are you?” “No.” His gaze darkens as his fingers continue trailing along my arm. “Even though I can’t stop thinking about all the ways I could make you scream my name.”
“What can I get you to drink?” I pause and look up at Charlie. “And why are you smiling like that?” he says. Because for once in my life, I don’t feel like I’m on the sidelines. For once, I’m in the photo.
“Tell me what you saw in the photos, Charlie,” I say. His gaze sweeps across my face, and when his eyes find mine, there’s something new there. A solid, unrelenting focus that roots me in place. “I saw a man who couldn’t keep his eyes off you. A man who hasn’t looked so happy in a very long time. I saw a man who finally found the kind of person he always wanted for himself. A best friend. A smart-ass. A brilliant, talented, caring woman, who deserves so much more than me.”
“I saw something else in those photos,” Charlie says. And then he goes for it. “I saw myself falling in love with you.”
His smile grows. It’s sunshine shimmering over the water. It’s permanent summer.
