I dust my hands like a movie gangster. “That’s all, boys. Have a nice day.”
We leave the way we came. “You got it, right?” I ask on the sidewalk.
“I got it. Let me drive? You can see.”
“Sure.” Duff and I climb into the rental car, but this time he drives. He hands me his phone at the first red light.
I edit the video to delete the part where I’m threatening them. And then I send it to myself and my new personal lawyer.
Then I call Charli. “Hey, baby. What are you doing?”
“Just finished a shift at the diner. Sal was happy to see me.”
“I bet.” I break out in a huge grin. If Charli’s working, it means she’s feeling better. “Sorry I couldn’t make it in there today, but I had a piece of business to take care of.”
“What kind of business?”
“Well, I’m about to send you a video. You don’t have to watch it if the sight of your cousins is triggering. But if you did watch it, you’d see both of them promise never to contact you or share that photo or video.”
There is a silence on the phone for a second, and I worry. But then she says, “Really?” in a happy gasp. “Seriously? That’s incredible. Show me!”
“Okay, I’m going to hang up and hit send. Call me back after you watch it.”
The wait to hear from her again is just three minutes. When I answer her call, the first thing she says is: “I’ve waited my whole life for someone to put them in their place. And you… This is…” She sucks in a breath. “Wow. I don’t even know what to say.”
“Say you’re free for dinner after practice. That’s all I need from you, my love.”
Another beat of silence. “I love you,” Charli says.
“I know, baby. Turkish? Chinese? Sushi?”
“I love you.”
“And I love you, doll.” Yeah, I had to throw that in there just for old time’s sake. I wait for her to yell.
But nope. “I love you! Thank you for being in my corner.”
“Aw.” I grab my heart, even though she can’t see me. “You’re welcome. Thank you for being in mine.”
“Always,” she says. “You pick the restaurant. Just text me a location. I’ll wear a low-cut shirt and smoky eyes.”
“You really do love me,” I murmur.
She finally laughs.
FORTY-THREE
EPILOGUE
LAKE COMO, ITALY
Late July
Neil
It’s a beautiful evening about a half hour before sunset, and I’m carrying a tray through our family home on the lake. It’s loaded down with servings of gelato in brightly decorated cups. “Are you coming outside, guys?” I call to my teammate in the living room and the woman he’s arguing with. “You don’t want to miss dessert. The flavor of the day is rosemary and olive oil.”
Crikey’s head turns in my direction. “Did you say olive oil? In ice cream? Gross.”
“I think it sounds amazing,” snaps Vera, who is on this jaunt with us as Charli’s guest. Vera and Crikey have been squabbling like children since the minute we all arrived. “Can I have one?”
“Of course.” I meet her in the center of the airy room, and she helps herself to a cup and a spoon.
“Thanks.” She spins around and she and Crikey go right back to arguing, as if they’d never even stopped. “You should never wear Chuck T’s with a suit,” she says. “That looks childish.”
“Nah, it looks hip,” he argues. “You’re the one who said that hipness is nothing but whimsy.”
“The right kind of whimsy,” she argues. “Sneakers with a suit just looks like you forgot to pack your shoes.”
“Why do you get to decide which is the right kind of whimsy? Because you went to some kind of expensive design school? Kinda snobby of you, no?”
Vera lets out a little shriek of rage, and I hurry toward the veranda, so I don’t have to listen. Outside, nobody is arguing. Several of our friends are stretched out on deck chairs, while Charli and Fiona drink flutes of prosecco in the hot tub together.
“Gelato delivery,” I announce, and two of my teammates pop up out of their chairs and come running. “Olive oil and rosemary.”
“That sounds really fucking weird,” Castro says. “But I’m in.” He takes two—one for him and one for Heidi Jo.
“Sounds amazing,” Anton mutters. “I’m gonna weigh twice as much when we get on the plane to go home.”
“Not my problem,” I say, carrying the tray to the hot tub. “Ladies?”
They both look up with joy on their faces. “Dessert in the hot tub? I’m in heaven,” Fiona declares. “I knew this place would be magical.” She hands a cup to Charli before reaching for her own. “Just admit it,” Fiona says. “I was right when I said you’d end up here with Neil.”
“Nobody likes to hear an I told you so,” Charli says, rising out of the water to set her glass down in a safe spot.
I get a full-on view of Charli in a tiny red bikini. “Damn, wifey. Love the new bathing suit. It’s… boobalicious.”
Fiona snorts. “Subtle, Drake.”
Who needs subtlety? I have the serious urge to kiss all the places those tiny straps touch her skin and then remove it with my teeth.
“The suit is Vera’s work, as usual,” she says, with a glance down at her amazing rack. “That girl is dangerous to my pocketbook. But at least I get the corporate discount now.”
To Sal’s dismay, Charli finally quit the diner this spring. Now she works a few mornings a week on Vera’s new personal-styling venture. Charli is the cosmetics guru. She helps Vera’s clients find the right products and does makeup for special events.
“Vera’s clients interpret the idea of a special event very broadly,” Charli had laughingly told me right after she’d started. “We’re not talking weddings, here. Today’s client had me do all her makeup for an afternoon tea she was attending.”
“Maybe the queen was gonna be there?” I’d guessed.
Charli had just shaken her head. She loves her new job. “I can’t believe I am paid to play with makeup,” she says. “It feels like cheating.”
She and Vera have been brainstorming a line of cosmetics, but the whole thing is still new.
As for us, we’re still new, too, I guess. But our connection doesn’t feel tentative to me anymore. We’re enjoying every moment. Charli has fully moved into my apartment and has a closet of her own and her own drawers in the bathroom. Her makeup case isn’t shoved against the bathroom wall anymore—the products are spread end-to-end on the counter now.
Whatever. I need Charli far more than I need countertop space.
I give myself a little insulin boost and then take the last gelato cup for myself. I slide into the hot tub next to my girl, and she immediately captures my feet with hers.
“It’s poker night,” she says. “Get ready to cry.”