“I can’t explain it, Mom. She just seems different than the other women I’ve met.”
“Marriage material,” his mother said softly.
“I don’t know. I don’t know. It’s way too soon to know.” Everett sighed. “But I’ve never thought that I ever wanted to marry. And now, I have this feeling that, if I found the right person...”
“You would find the space in your heart,” his mother finished the sentence for him.
“Exactly.” He said, pointing his fork at her.
His mother reached across the table and gripped his hand. They studied one another for a long time.
“I hope you find a way to love her—or whoever you end up with—as much as your father loved me,” she said. “If so, she will have the greatest happiness.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Charlotte was full-on freaking out.
Everett had formally invited her to California that Saturday, a whole week after the wedding.
She stood over her empty suitcase on Thursday evening, her hands on her hips, while Claire, Rachel, Abby, and Gail hovered behind her. They planned to help her pack and to help her decide what to wear in this city of sunshine. Slowly, Claire helped her pick through her summer dresses, choosing the ones that Charlotte didn’t have any overly intense memories in and splaying them on the bed.
“Oh yeah. You look hot in that one, Mom,” Rachel said, pointing to the bright red one Claire held in her arms.
“Hot? At forty-one?” Charlotte said, eyeing her daughter.
Rachel, Abby, and Gail nodded, bug-eyed.
“Are you kidding?” Gail demanded. “All the Sheridan and Montgomery girls are hotter after forty, it seems like.”
“We’re blessed with good genes,” Abby affirmed.
Claire folded the dresses, skirts, and shirts they had chosen, while Charlotte was assigned to go through her underwear collection to pick out something appropriate. Her cheeks burned.
“I don’t know. Maybe we’re just going to be friends?” she said sheepishly.
“Right. And I’m the next Queen of England,” Claire declared.
Charlotte pressed her lips together anxiously. “Then I think we’re going to have to go shopping. Everything in this drawer is the kind of thing I wore as a married woman.”
Claire marched over to investigate. After she clucked her tongue, she said, “Yep. This is basically what my drawer looks like, too. Lots and lots of holes and granny panties. Maybe I’ll come with you? Spruce up my lingerie?”
“It’ll be a bonding experience,” Charlotte joked.
CHARLOTTE HAD NEVER been off the island without her husband, one of her friends, cousins, or siblings, or one of her parents. Now, at age forty-one, she hugged her daughter goodbye and walked onto the ferry with her chin held high. She had always believed that you had to pretend you were confident; the rest came later.
All of life was a little bit like an act, anyway.
At the airport, she bought a cup of coffee and sat watching the planes as they ducked down then eased back into the bright blue sky. It was early December, and the airport was decorated with cheery tinsel, Christmas trees, Santa Clauses, and ornaments hanging from the ceilings.
The plane to LA took three hours.
During the last hour, she had to convince herself to keep breathing.
The woman seated beside her asked if she needed any water or a snack since she looked pale.
Charlotte didn’t want to look anything but her best when she met Everett.
A little panicked, she rushed to the bathroom, smeared extra lipstick across both her lips and her upper cheeks, and pleaded with herself to act normal.
You went across the entire continent to meet a man you hardly know.
What makes you think this is the right thing to do?
Still, she needed it. Right?
She deserved it.
She had been through so much.
And Jason would have wanted her to move on.
When the plane landed, she closed her eyes and cupped her elbows and tried her best to talk to Jason, wherever he was.
I love you. You know I’ll always love you. You know that every decision I make is for our daughter, Rachel.
I hope you know that no matter what new experiences I build with someone new, you’ll still be a part of me.
I will never let you go. Not completely.
Charlotte waited for her luggage at the carousel and headed toward the pick-up zone. Outside the door, early December Los Angeles heat was a welcome feeling, like cozying into a nice sweater. She inhaled the strange air and then turned her head to find Everett, standing next to a little red car with his arm extended.
He was so handsome. His black hair was curled wildly, and his blue eyes reflected the gorgeous California sun. He looked at her like she was the only woman in the world.
She walked toward him. The walk felt like it took forever. All her thoughts seemed to be one large mess in her head.
When she stood before him, she heaved a sigh, dropped her suitcase to the side, and placed her hands on her hips.
“I came all this way,” she finally said, as he studied her face. “Aren’t you going to say hello?”
He didn’t speak.
His hands extended over her cheeks as he kissed her.
Their eyes closed.
In the sky, planes flew toward the airstrip and back into the sky above.
Still, they kissed.
Charlotte’s heart lifted into her throat.
She felt that they, too, could have flown away.
When their kiss broke, she gripped his hands and pressed her teeth into her lower lip.
Behind them, some guy who waited for Everett’s car to get out of the way leaped out of the driver’s side and hollered, “All right. That’s enough! Some of us want to get home to see our families.”
At that, Everett finally laughed, shrugged, and said, “Welcome to LA. What else did you expect?”
As they drove out toward Silver Lake, Charlotte splayed one hand out the window, while she gripped Everett’s with her left. The radio played songs they’d always known, with lyrics they sang along to. In these moments, she wasn’t
