“I’m not Amy,” she says.

“No. You’re not. And it took some time and some soul searching for me to realize that I was, well, intensely fucked up.” I sigh and shove my hands through my hair. “Amy came to see me.”

She cocks a brow.

“She was her usual, manipulative self, and not only did I not give a fuck about what she had to say, but it drove home for me that you are nothing like Amy. You are so kind and sweet and loving. You’re everything she isn’t, and I knew that I’d not only screwed up, but that I needed to come make it right.

“But first, I spent about a week in intense therapy, coming to terms with a lot of what happened in my life before you.”

“I’m glad,” she says softly. “I’m very happy for you, Simon, that you worked on yourself and that you’re in a better place.”

Just when my hopes rise, she turns to me and crushes them down again.

“But I just don’t know if I can trust you again.”

I nod, and feel my heart sink to my knees. I’m too late. I hurt her too badly.

I cross to her and drag my knuckles down her cheek. She doesn’t pull away this time. The feel of her soft skin is a balm to my wounded soul.

“I understand,” I say, my voice gruff. “I’m sorry for everything, Charlotte. I love you.”

Just as I’m about to pull away, she lays a hand on my chest.

“Wait.” She squeezes her eyes shut for a brief moment, then looks up at me. “I didn’t say no. I said I don’t know.”

I wait, watching her lovely face as she struggles with herself, and that makes me hurt almost as much as the idea of losing her completely. I’ve hurt her so badly.

“I want the chance to make this all up to you, love.”

“I need some time to think about all of this,” she says at last. “I can’t just jump back into this with you.”

“It’s a trust thing,” I reply with a smile and tuck her hair behind her ear. “I’ll be here for as long as you need. I’m staying at the same hotel I was at last time. You can come to me, or call, anytime, day or night.”

She nods and steps back as I open the door.

“Simon?”

“Yes, love.”

“Thank you.”

I nod and leave before I pull her into my arms and carry her upstairs to her bed.

***

“You and I need to talk,” Savannah Boudreaux says when I open the door to her knock.

“Hello to you too,” I reply and gesture for her to come inside. “Can I get you anything? I have some hot tea here.”

“No,” she replies and walks into my suite. “I love this place. I’ve always wanted to see the inside.”

“Is that why you came by?” I ask and gesture for her to have a seat on the sofa by the window.

“I’ll stand,” she replies. “I have too much energy to sit.”

“I understand.”

“No, I didn’t come here to check out the inside of this inn,” she begins. “I came to see you when I’m sober.”

“Do you girls drink a lot when you’re pissed?”

“Sometimes.” She shrugs and wanders into the bathroom. “Look at this tub!”

I grin and wait for her to return.

“So, Charly’s at work and you’re here, so I’m assuming she didn’t just jump into your waiting arms this morning.”

“You haven’t spoken to her?” I’m surprised. I figured Charly would call her sisters first thing. I know that they’re her closest friends.

“No.” She shakes her head and sits on the sofa now. Her eyes, so much like Charly’s, are worried. “That’s usual for her too. When she needs to think, or if she’s sad, she stays mostly to herself. Especially since our father died.”

She looks at me now. “I want to hear where your head is, but I also want to give you some insight into Charly. I don’t see this as speaking out of turn because she loves you, and I think you love her too.”

“More than anything.”

She smiles softly. “That’s lovely. Charly was the closest to our father. Don’t get me wrong, we all thought we were the closest one, but in hindsight, I can see that Charly and Dad had a very special relationship. They had many of the same interests. She idolized him. Losing him was hard on all of us, but I think that a piece of Charly died that day too.”

She wipes a tear away, and I sink into a squat next to her, listening to her intently.

“Our parents were married for the better part of forty years, and for all we kids knew, it was a wonderful marriage. I still believe it was good, but having been married once myself, I know that no marriage is perfect. They made sure they never fought in front of us, and Dad took care of things; the business, us kids, and our mama. He loved her so much. And he used to tell us girls that we deserved nothing less than the fairy tale of love at first sight and happily ever after.”

She smirks and some of the pieces begin to fit together in my head.

“Love at first sight and happily ever after are for fairy tales,” she says softly, “but I think Charly believed in them. That’s why she’d never been in a serious relationship. She was waiting for that instant burst of passion, that immediate recognition that she’d met the man of her dreams, all in the first five minutes. And it wasn’t until she met you that she realized that love can be a slow burn, starting low and building into something wild and passionate.

“She had that with you. She was…careful. I don’t think she understood what was happening with you at first, but once she did, well, she fell hard.”