It’s 11:17, or so Charlotte Jenson’s watch reads as she checks it for what seems like the thousandth time. Her stomach flutters, running her hands down her thighs, smoothing over the fabric of her skirt, her foot tapping nervously against the carpet. Her palms cup the warm skin of her bare knees and she wonders briefly if she should be wearing panty hose. Was it a fashion faux pas to have bare legs at a job interview? She never knew. Going into her sixth year of living in New York City, she still found herself eternally clueless to the day to day trivialities of what the definition of cool was this week.

But it’s not like she really had a choice in the matter today. Her last pair of panty hose had run as she tried to put them on and when she stepped out of her apartment building she had regretted it. The weather was unseasonably cool for the beginning of October and the walk to the subway was somewhat harsh.

She had arrived at ten till eleven, smiling brightly at the secretary who took her coat and bade Charlotte sit on one of the cream colored leather couches, her small heels sinking into the plush rug under the couch and small glass table. And there she had sat for – she checks her watch again – thirty three minutes.

Charlotte’s eyes fall on the young woman behind the French writing desk. She’s writing diligently, looking between her papers and her computer screen, long lashes seeming to lay perfectly against her cheek as she looks down and then fanning out around her eyes as she looks up again. Her long dark hair is pulled back simply, chicly and her pale skin glows in that way that makes the lack of a tan acceptable. The phone rings, stuttering Charlotte’s assessment of her.

“Amelia Domenick’s office.”

Her voice is cool and unattached but still pleasant, much like her appearance. She is the epitome of New York business chic, all pencil length skirts, cashmere sweaters, and designer shoes. Charlotte looks down at her simple black suit, a mix of polyester and rayon, her shoes, some no name brand from Macy’s. She is the exact opposite of this girl. She wonders if she even has a chance at this job.

Charlotte sighs, checking her watch again. 11:31. She’s been here for forty-one minutes now. Could she have gotten the time wrong? No, she had checked six times this morning and the post-it note on her fridge had said Amelia Domineck interview. Tuesday, 11 am. Charlotte looks around, searching the room for a clock, thinking maybe her watch is wrong, that she somehow set it forward three hours and she is insanely early. She’s just about to ask the secretary for the time when the door to the reception area swings open.

“Kaitie would you call Arthur and tell him I’ll have to meet with him tomorrow. That meeting with the investors went entirely too long.”

Charlotte’s eyes fall on the woman who has just breezed effortlessly through the door. Her eyes widen at the sheer beauty of the tall, slender woman as she shrugs off her snow white trench coat and hooks it on the rack next to Charlotte’s old wool peacoat.

“Yes, Ms. Domineck,” Kaitie replies, nodding eagerly and reaching for the phone.

“And call Justin and tell him I’m running late,” Ms. Domineck adds with a sigh and she turns, her eyes falling on Charlotte.

Charlotte’s eyes widen, completely taken off guard and she feels caught in the woman’s gaze. Should she smile? Maybe stand and offer her hand? The woman looks at her secretary, who is just ending her phone call and about to start another, and raises an eyebrow. Kaitie’s eyes fall to Charlotte before flitting back to her boss.

“Your eleven o’clock,” Kaitie replies and the woman gives a small nod before moving to the French doors just to the left of the receptionist’s desk.

“Send her in,” she casually calls over her shoulder as she passes through the door and into her office.

Kaitie gives Charlotte a smile that softens her face, making it less severe and Charlotte realizes that she can’t be any older than herself. She returns the smile, tugging on the bottom of her suit jacket as she walks into the office, with what she hopes is outstanding grace and confidence.

The room is large and airy, giving the illusion of warmth with its soft taupe walls and cream settees arranged comfortably around a small short glass table. Large windows look out over the bustling city street, sheer curtains muting the morning sun and giving the room a soft glow. Framed fashion sketches hang on the walls and more windows cast light onto the antique Louis XV writing desk and the woman who is moving behind it, giving her an ethereal glow. The sun catches her hair, making it look more like spun gold than soft blond curls.

“Forgive me for being late,” she says sighing as she shuffles through the papers on her desk and Charlotte can’t help but do as she says. “You’re here for the assistant job?”

Charlotte’s eyes are roving over her face, taking in the softness of her cheeks, the slight slant of her nose, the perfect bow of her lips. She is caught up not only in her beauty but the quiet authority she exudes. This woman holds power Charlotte can only admire. Her pale blue eyes meet Charlotte’s, lifting her eyebrow questioningly.

“Yes,” Charlotte’s says finally, fighting her blush as she holds out her hand. “Charlotte Jenson.”

“Amelia Domineck,” Amelia responds, grasping her hand firmly and giving it a slight shake. “Please sit.”

They both take their seats and Amelia eyes Charlotte appraisingly and Charlotte squirms under her penetrating gaze.

“Do you have a resume?” Amelia asks after a moment and Charlotte jumps, digging in her bag before handing her resume across the desk.

“Yes, sorry,” Charlotte replies chuckling and Amelia smiles softly before her eyes scan down the pages, her face settling into an unreadable mask.

It breaks into a pleasant expression as she reaches the bottom of the page. “You went to NYU,” her eyebrows raise. “The Stern School of Business.”

“Yes,” Charlotte says nodding, shifting in her seat.

“For finance.”

“Yes.”

“There’s no finance involved in this position,” Amelia says, tilting her head down slightly, eyeing the woman across from her.

“Yes, I know,” Charlotte responds and Amelia’s eyes narrow just slightly as she reads on.

“Bachelors in Finance, worked for Guage-Whitney,” Amelia’s eyebrows rush toward her hairline. “Impressive.”

Charlotte smiles tightly, feeling just slightly uncomfortable when Amelia’s ice cool eyes fall on her again.

“Only for eight months. What was your reason for leaving?” Amelia looks down again, flipping a page. “I see you’d been promoted from your entry level position.”

“Yes, I just…” Charlotte pauses, which causes Amelia’s eyes to return to her. “…needed a change of pace.”

“Too fast for you?” Amelia prods, her eyes boring into her and Charlotte shifts in her chair again.

“Not really, no,” Charlotte says, trying to choose her words carefully. “It wasn’t what I thought it would be.”

“Guage-Whitney is one of the foremost financial firms in Manhattan.” Amelia says, smiling somewhat suspiciously. “It says you were a financial analyst when you left.”

“Yes,” Charlotte responds, feeling herself beginning to sweat.

“Sounds fairly straight forward to me. Did they mislead you when hiring?” Amelia smiles wryly.

“No,” Charlotte says slowly, swallowing hard. “I was just going in a different direction.”

“And that led you here?” Amelia asks and Charlotte smiles.

“So it would seem.”

Amelia breaks into a smile for the first time and Charlotte is dazzled momentarily. “So it would seem.”

Amelia eyes her for a moment, taking in her plain but tidy appearance. Charlotte does her best not to squirm. They are silent, each appraising the other and Charlotte wonders if she’s completely botched this. If she has she’s quite possibly ruined her chances for an assistant job anywhere in the city. Amelia Domineck is big business, one of the most recognizable faces not only in the boardroom but in the papers as well. If word gets around that Charlotte is a bumbling idiot, any chance at a job goes flying out the window.

“Alright,” Amelia says, leaning back in her chair and smiling. “You’re hired.”

Charlotte’s jaw drops. “What?”

“I like you,” Amelia says nodding. “You’re educated, capable, fairly well dressed.” Charlotte looks down at herself. Amelia goes on. “You don’t buckle under pressure,” she smiles again, “and you have just enough cheek to keep things interesting.”

“Um,” Charlotte says, a slow grin creeping over her face, “thanks?”

Amelia nods. “The job consists mostly of errands. You’re going to be running all over the city, delivering and retrieving things for me. Not necessarily my dry cleaning but if Kaitie can’t get to it, it may come to that.”

Charlotte laughs. “I can handle that.”

“And now this is the important part,” Amelia says, her face serious and Charlotte nods. “You’ll be running things back and forth between my fiancé and I-”

Amelia’s sentence is cut off by a loud voice, masculine and deep, singing a pleasant tune.

“What’s so maybe about? What’s so maybe ABOUT? What’s so maybe about Kaaaaaaaatie!!! You heard that song, Kaitie? BareNaked Ladies. Good stuff.”

A tall handsome man strolls easily into the room, a wry smile pulling at his lips. Charlotte’s eyes rove over him, taking in his shaved head and smooth jaw and down to his lanky frame donned in a suit that must have been tailor made by God. She tries hard not to stare but it’s difficult when it seems that his presence commands every ounce of your attention effortlessly. She wonders if this was a honed skill from his performing days or if it’s just inherent.

“Hey darlin’” he drawls brightly, moving around the desk to peck Amelia on the cheek.

She purses her lips but her eyes lighten as she looks up at him, trying for a withered look that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. The man grins down at her for a moment before his eyes fall on the woman in front of the desk.

“Hello,” he says simply and Charlotte tries her best not to gape at him.

“Charlotte, this is Justin Timberlake, my fiancé. Justin this is Charlotte. My new assistant.”

“Ah,” Justin says, reaching his hand to Charlotte, holding his tie against his chest as he leans over the desk. “I’m so sorry,” he says sarcastically, shaking Charlotte’s hand and she giggles, causing him to break into a grin.

“Oh, stop,” Amelia says swatting his side and he chuckles, moving around the desk.

“You almost done? I’m starving,” Justin says, moving about the room and looking around.

“Yes, just let me finish up here,” Amelia replies, rolling her eyes before sharing a look with Charlotte who smiles. Amelia is just about to open her mouth to speak again when:

“Can we go to Scalinatella today?”

Amelia gives Justin a look that causes him to cringe, turning away from the two women and fingering the trinkets on a side table pressed against a far wall. Amelia smiles at Charlotte again.

“As I was saying,” Amelia continues, eyes flitting to Justin, who is now settling back on one of the settees, shrugging his shoulders and popping his neck. “You’ll be running things back and forth between-” she stops. “What are you doing?”

Charlotte turns in her chair and finds Justin laying across one of the settees, one of his long legs dangling over the arm. He folds his arms behind his head, frowning and reaching for one of the small pillows nestled into the corner of the couch.

“Waiting,” he replies, stuffing the pillow under his head and sighing, wiggling a little until he is seemingly comfortable.

“Will you sit up please? You’re wrinkling your suit and you know how I hate it when you put your feet on my couches,” Amelia sighs shaking her head. “I’m sorry,” she adds to Charlotte.

“No problem at all.”

“You’ll be going back and forth between Justin and I and as you can imagine privacy is of the utmost-”

Amelia stops again and Charlotte jumps a strange thumping beat wafts through the air. Both women turn their eyes to Justin again, still finding him stretched out across the settee, hips lips pursed and vibrating as he bobs his head to the beat he’s setting.

“Justin!” Amelia exclaims harshly and the beat stops abruptly as he turns his face to her wide eyed. “I swear you should not be allowed in civilized society.”

Justin gives her a condescending look and Amelia returns with a wry smile. Charlotte shakes her head, turning back to Amelia who is still watching Justin, a disapproving look on her face but a lightness in her eyes.

“As you can see we have a lot that I don’t want getting out to the press-”

“Hey!” Justin exclaims looking at her offended but his eyes dance playfully.

“Oh fine,” Amelia says, throwing her hands in the air and sighing. “Charlotte can you come in tomorrow around nine and we’ll discuss this further?”

“Tomorrow?” Charlotte asks slightly astonished. Who knew it’d be this easy?

“Yes,” Amelia says, standing from her chair. She pauses. “Is that a problem?”

“No!” Charlotte exclaims smiling. “No, its just fast.”

“Well, this is New York,” Amelia says smiling as she reaches under her desk for her purse. “We never sleep.”

“Apparently, we never eat either,” Justin deadpans and Amelia glares at him.

“I’m coming,” she replies annoyed, moving from behind her desk and Charlotte stands. “It was a pleasure meeting your Charlotte. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Yes, thank you Ms. Domineck.”

“Call me Amelia.”

Justin grins, pulling himself up and walking over to them. “Or you could call her-”

“Don’t!” Amelia exclaims, glaring at him and Justin snaps his mouth shut. “I swear you are the most impatient man.”

“I’m hungry,” he whines and Amelia rolls her eyes.

“You’re a child,” she replies and he glares at her before looking away.

“You love me.”

“You hope I do.”

“You do.”

Charlotte watches as the two of them turn to the door, Amelia walking just ahead of Justin as they bicker back and forth. She briefly wonders if this job is going to be worth it, but she shakes her head, clearing the thought from her mind. It’s just running errands. How bad could it possibly be?

Charlotte breathes a sigh of relief as she and Amelia enter the large entrance hall of the Carlyle Hotel, thankful for a respite from the frigid city streets. She doesn’t have much time to enjoy the warmth of the lobby before her boss is striding towards the restaurant entrance, her blond hair standing out among the dark color scheme of the room. Charlotte scurries after her, catching up to her just in time to hear her say:

“…and I don’t want a table next to a wall. One of the center tables. Yes.”

The host smiles tightly, bidding them to follow him as he guides them into the opulent dining room. An older, dustier crowd dominates with some young European eye candy speckled throughout and Charlotte can’t help but feel slightly out of place in the shoes she bought at Macy’s three years ago. Amelia shines like porcelain in crisp white linen and dark gray cashmere, six inch stilettos pushing her already regal height into the stratosphere.

The host seats them in an elegant room furnished with pillow-sprinkled banquets and fortuny fabric covered walls, sconces illuminating the corners while large windows belayed in heavy drapery allow the early afternoon sun to shine feebly through all the fabric.

Charlotte lowers herself cautiously onto one of the large cushioned seats set around impeccably set, cloth covered tables, fearing that the cushion may just swallow her whole. But it’s surprisingly stiff and does not yield to her weight and she finds this oddly fitting for a place of such high attitude. Amelia slides onto her own cushioned chair and settles a bit before unfolding her napkin and placing it in her lap. Charlotte follows suit as she always does when Amelia insists on having lunch out.

Since taking this job, Charlotte has accompanied Amelia to lunch only a few times, usually business lunches where she took notes while the others ate. But this was the first time she had been invited to lunch with Amelia and only Amelia. Charlotte had at first thought Amelia was talking to Kaitie when she stepped out of her office and asked her to join her for lunch. Much to her (and Kaitie’s) surprise it was Charlotte that Amelia wanted to dine with. Charlotte was terrified. Kaitie was livid.

It seemed to be Kaitie’s goal in life to be Amelia’s best friend and confidant where as Charlotte was simply content doing her job. Frankly, any situation that involved herself and Amelia in a social setting seemed utterly ludicrous to Charlotte because she would never dream of seeing the inside of VIP and Amelia wouldn’t be caught dead in the Bronx.

“So Charlotte…” Amelia says as she opens her menu. “How are you liking the job so far?”

“Um,” Charlotte responds dumbly, opening her own menu and nearly choking at the sight of the prices. 50 dollars for fish? “I like it. I really do.”

“You’re getting on okay?” Amelia asks, peering over her menu at Charlotte. “No one giving you any trouble?”

“Oh no of course not,” Charlotte says smiling while running over every tedious errand Katie has had her run over the past several weeks.

Amelia eyes her. “Good.”

The waiter steps over, setting glasses of water in front of them and is just about to open his mouth to speak but before he can get a word out Amelia snaps her menu shut and looks up at him.

“I’d like a bottle of Perrier, don’t open it I can do it myself, and a cup of coffee, real coffee not espresso, black but I would like Equal on the side, not sugar, Equal. In the blue packets,” She turns to Charlotte who is staring at her slack jawed and looks at her expectantly

Charlotte snaps her mouth shut and then stutters, “Um…coke is fine.”

“Diet?” the waiter asks eyeing her and Charlotte blinks at him.

“Did she say diet?” Amelia asks, her eyes cutting him and Charlotte swears that she can see his Adam’s apple bob.

“N-no,” he stutters and Amelia gives him a tight smile.

“Then no, she doesn’t want diet,” Amelia opens her menu again, muttering “God only knows why...” Charlotte shifts uncomfortably and the waiter looks down at Amelia, clutching his notepad nervously. Amelia glances up at him and sighs. “That’s all.”

The waiter scurries off and Amelia turns to Charlotte, her face softening into a more pleasant expression as she peruses her menu. Charlotte looks around awkwardly, taking in the posh setting and the older debutants in their finery. She meets eyes with a man about her age sitting at a table with an older lady who could quite possibly be his grandmother but with the way he’s holding her hand Charlotte is relatively sure it’s not his grandmother. She looks away quickly lest he think her judging him, taking a sip of her water and looking the other direction.

“I ran into Anderson Cripps yesterday” Amelia says and Charlotte nearly chokes at the mention of her former boss’s name.

She swallows hard. “Really?”

“Yes,” Amelia says, eyeing her from over her menu. “He had nothing but glowing things to say about you.”

Charlotte blinks. This is going somewhere she’s sure. Amelia is very good at working her way into conversations and then dropping a bomb meant to daze the other person into divulging information they hadn’t wanted to reveal. Charlotte had seen her do it to Justin on so many occasions it was almost nauseating. Amelia would ask innocuous question after innocuous question until he thought he was safe and then she’d hit him with something hard and the poor bastard would stutter and fumble through excuses while Amelia ticked off more questions until he was so confused he agreed to whatever it was she wanted. He would walk away dazed and slightly bewildered, wondering how he had gotten himself so turned around. Charlotte tried to ready herself for whatever was coming.

“You left several months ago,” Amelia says offhandedly, her eyes flitting to Charlotte from over the top of her menu.

Even though this is simply an observational statement Charlotte can hear the question in the undertones. What were you doing in between jobs?

“Yes,” Charlotte responds, doing her best to ignore the underlying question. Amelia eyes her. No one ignores Amelia’s questions, underlying or not.

“Spending time in Europe?” she questions, smiling slightly and Charlotte laughs good naturedly. Where were you when you weren’t working? Don’t make me flat out ask you.

“I wish,” she replies. “I went home for a little while.” Charlotte’s stomach clenches. Why did she mention that?

Amelia pounces. “And where is home?”

“Pennsylvania,” Charlotte responds, shifting slightly, watching Amelia’s face from the corner of her eye but she betrays nothing.

“Pittsburgh?” You seem like the poor steel worker’s daughter type.

“Close. Cannonsburg. Just a little outside of Pittsburgh,”

“And what do your parents do?” Just how poor are you?

“My father worked in the coalmines,” Charlotte says, praying that Amelia doesn’t ask…

“And your mother?”

“Homemaker,” Charlotte says, the word bitter on her tongue. Nothing is more deplorable to a woman like Amelia than a stay at home mom.

Amelia’s head snaps up but her face betrays nothing. “Well isn’t that adorable? You’re an only child?” You must be on that salary.

“No actually,” Charlotte replies, shifting awkwardly. “Youngest of three. Only girl.”

The waiter returns with their drinks and Charlotte breathes a sigh of relief as he sets them silently on the table. Charlotte snatches her drink, taking a sip, cringing as the fake sugar hits her tongue. Diet.

“Are you ready to order?” he asks as jovially as possible though his apprehension at having to take Amelia’s order is quite evident.

“I’ll have the Dover Sole, braised in champagne, the good champagne not the usual champagne you use for lunch. I would liked steamed asparagus with that and please make sure its crunchy, if its soft I’ll send it back so get it right the first time. And jasmine rice.” Amelia snaps her menu shut and holds it out to him, sighing while he frantically scribbles down her order and doesn’t take it right away.

“And for you miss?” he asks, looking at Charlotte in a way that says “please god be normal.”

“Um,” Charlotte looks down at the menu. She hadn’t even had time to make a choice, having been too busy playing 20 Questions with Amelia. “I guess…uh…I’ll…I’ll have the same.”

The waiter gives her a curt nod before taking her menu and working through the maze of tables, putting as much distance between himself and them as possible. Who could blame him?

“What made you decide on finance at NYU?” Amelia asks, picking up right where they left off.

Charlotte can feel herself beginning to sweat. “Well, there’s good money in it.”

“Especially if you’re working at Gauge-Whitney,” Amelia replies “Were you close with Anderson?” Amelia asks casually. Did you sleep with him?

And there it was. Amelia thinks she quit because of some interoffice affair. Good guess. Anderson’s reputation as a savvy market analyst was only eclipsed by his reputation as a man-whore. His wife must either be blind or stupid.

“Not really. He was just my boss,” Charlotte responds, smiling. There was something oddly freeing about leaving Amelia wanting. Probably because it rarely ever happened. Time to turn the tables. “You must be excited to be getting married.”

Amelia looks at her slightly bewildered but then gives her a small smile. Okay we’ll call this one a draw. For now. “Yes, there’s a lot to do.”

“Justin seems like a great guy,” Charlotte responds and she means it.

Amelia wasn’t kidding when she said Charlotte’s main job would be ferrying information back and forth between herself and her fiancé. Charlotte made at least four trips a day to Justin’s office, often bearing the brunt of bad news or some crazy demand of Amelia’s. But he was always the gentleman, charming and witty, quick with a joke and a smile, sometimes a wink if he was feeling particularly cheeky that day. Although she couldn’t really get past the fact that he let Amelia walk all over him, Charlotte was really beginning to see that it was impossible not to adore Justin. He was goofy and at times utterly helpless but he always managed to make her laugh which was refreshing after spending the day with Amelia who didn’t seem to find anything remotely humorous ever.

“He is,” Amelia responds coolly, stirring the sugar into her coffee slowly, watching it swirl and dissipate into the hot liquid.

Charlotte often wondered what they saw in each other. They were complete opposites. Everything about Justin seemed to annoy Amelia and Justin had to be sick of her tantrums by now. But they were getting married. There had to be some reason.

“How did the two of you meet?” Charlotte prods gently, taking another sip of her soda, cringing again when she forgets that its diet.

“Through my father,” Amelia replies, bringing her coffee cup to her lips. “I was a young, up and comer in the A&R department at Daddy’s label and Justin was doing some production work with some of our artists.”

“How long have you guys been together?” Charlotte asks carefully. She’s not exactly sure how long this glimpse into Amelia’s character will last so she’s trying to tread lightly.

“Oh good lord,” Amelia says, squinting as she looks to the ceiling, thinking. “Three? Yes about three. He was just getting off that godforsaken tour, doing movies.” Amelia opens her bottle of Perrier making a face as she adds, “Thank God he got over all of that.”

“He doesn’t do much with his own career any more huh?” Charlotte asks, thinking more to herself but Amelia responds bluntly.

“He has his career.” Amelia’s eyes cut Charlotte and she looks down chastised. “It’s just more on the business end now. He likes it.” Amelia nods assuredly.

“You two seem so…” Charlotte pauses searching for the words. “terrible for each other” are the only ones that are coming to mind.

“Different?” Amelia supplies for her with a smile. “Yeah, I’ve grown up a lot since we got together. Justin…” she pauses shaking her head and sighing. “not so much. I’m hoping he changes a little once we get married.”

“How do you mean,” Charlotte asks before she can stop herself. What’s so wrong with the way he is now?

“Just…I dunno, Amelia says sighing as she sets her coffee cup down. “He’s just such a child sometimes. He’s constantly getting himself into messes. He never takes anything seriously.” Amelia shakes her head and Charlotte can’t help but think these are things she likes about Justin. “And he’s a huge flirt.”

Charlotte is silent at this. Amelia smirks.

“Don’t think I don’t know how he is,” Amelia replies slyly, and then she leans towards Charlotte in a conspiratory way, causing Charlotte to lean in as well. “Why do you think I hired that bimbo wedding planner?”

Charlotte’s jaw drops and Amelia laughs.

“Really Charlotte! Patti is far from the best wedding planner in the city.” Amelia shakes her heard sighing. “But she’s a curvy brunette and Justin likes curvy brunettes.” Amelia smoothes a hand over her perfectly coiffed blond locks and her gaze catches on Charlotte, her eyes narrowing just slightly before grinning. “You know he probably likes you too.”

Charlotte’s eyes widen, a tremor of panic shaking through her. She doesn’t know what to say. Would “thank you” be an appropriate response? Or maybe a vehement denial?

The waiter approaches with their food, Charlotte breathing a sigh of relief at the fact that she doesn’t have to answer. She nearly jumps out of her chair when she sees that her lunch is staring back at her, the large fish braised but still containing its head and tail. She looks to Amelia who is reaching for the pepper and watches as she sprinkles her own dead fish with seasoning before digging her fork into its body, continuing on.

“But she’s got a nice ass. And if there’s one thing Justin cannot resist it’s a nice ass.”

“You’re…you’re setting him up?” Charlotte asks, slightly unbelieving and Amelia lets out a small cough of a laugh.

“It’s a simple test,” Amelia replies bringing her fork to her lips. “He’s done well so far,” she frowns. “The flirting is getting more intense but as far as I know nothing’s happened.” She sets her fork down, looking at Charlotte pointedly. “And I always know.”

“And then if it is at all possible can you get lunch reservations at Daniel for tomorrow?”

Amelia throws this over her shoulder to Charlotte as she steps in the elevator of the Pierre Hotel, Charlotte nodding and struggling to hold onto all of Amelia’s bags as she follows her inside.

“Ugh what a horrendous day,” Amelia groans with a sigh, slouching back against the railing as the elevator begins it’s ascent.

Charlotte can only agree. Four business meetings before lunch, a disaster with the florist in the early afternoon, and then some shopping therapy has left Charlotte feeling exhausted and thanking God it is Friday. She watches Amelia slowly rub her temples for a moment before turning her attention to the floor indicator.

“Who are we meeting here?” Charlotte asks offhandedly, turning her head to her shoulder, fighting back a yawn.

Amelia blinks at her. “No one. I live here.”

Charlotte looks at her, a bewildered expression covering her face. Amelia lives here? She’s surprised but still finds it completely fitting. Upon entry to the lobby Charlotte had felt instantly resized, the great round lobby with its blue sky ceiling and crushed velvet-covered chairs cozy and inviting although the patrons were not. The elevator continues to climb and Charlotte glances at the floor panel finding the penthouse button lit. Of course.

The doors finally open to a white marble floored lobby of sorts, the heavy oak doors in front of them large and somewhat foreboding. Amelia strides forward, pushing the door open and letting herself in. Charlotte follows, mouth slightly agape instantly awed by the sight that greets her.

The foyer is nothing more than a mass of black steps climbing high to a small landing where the stairs split and disappear into the ceiling. Rooms seem to hide behind the grand staircase, hallways slinking back into the recesses of the building, holding little pieces of Amelia’s life.

Charlotte finds it strange being in Amelia’s home. Amelia sleeps here, eats here, bathes here. All the normal things people do when they’re at home. In that moment, Charlotte finds herself guilty of something Amelia does everyday to her. She has forgotten that Amelia is an actual living, breathing human being. Charlotte had gotten herself so caught up in the business that is Amelia Domineck and had almost forgotten that she is first and foremost a woman just like herself.

“Good she’s still here,” Amelia mutters to herself, checking her watch. She looks up at Charlotte. “I need to talk to the maid about the mess she made of my Valentino gown.”

Okay maybe not just like herself.

“And Justin’s home,” Amelia says with a sigh, rolling her eyes and its then that Charlotte hears the soft tinkling of piano keys, the sound seeming to come from heaven. “And playing that god forsaken piano. I swear I’d get rid of it if it hadn’t been a gift from Sting.”

Amelia huffs, plucking her gloves from her long fingers, dropping them and her coat onto a small French arm chair next to the door. Charlotte shifts from one foot to the other, wiggling her fingers around the shopping bag handles, trying to alleviate some of the pressure while waiting for instructions.

“I’m going to find that maid,” Amelia says walking briskly around the staircase, her stilettos tapping smartly on the wooden floor. “Charlotte, go upstairs and tell Justin to stop with the racket please. I have a headache.”

“Um…okay,” Charlotte says uneasily as Amelia disappears into the recesses of the house.

Charlotte sets the bags on the floor, sighing in relief as she curls and uncurls her arm, her muscles screaming in protest. She takes a cautious step onto the staircase, biting her lip and eyeing the hallway Amelia just disappeared through. Was this a trick? Ever since lunch earlier that week Charlotte had been especially careful around Justin, weary that maybe Amelia was testing her as well. It was entirely possible. Justin did flirt with her, but no more than he did with anyone else. But Charlotte was relatively sure none of that mattered to Amelia, considering her boss was just interested in testing her fiancé. It didn’t really matter who the bait was.

She shook her head, trying to clear it as she climbed the stairs and if she hadn’t been out of breath already from the steep climb, the grandeur of the room would have stolen it from her lungs upon sight. Charlotte gazes around feeling almost as if she should genuflect, the twenty foot high rounded ceiling reminiscent of a cathedral, the blond oak floors gleaming like rays of light. French doors stretch from floor to ceiling overlooking the sunset on Central Park, sconce lighting and a magnificent chandelier illuminating the room.

The room is the size of a grand ballroom and Charlotte lets her mouth hang open as she takes in the quiet opulence of the space. It has the feel of a quiet French château on steroids. Her eyes travel around the room, roving over small settees and overstuffed chairs, heavy mahogany coffee tables and delicate floor lamps. She’s startled when her gaze falls on the piano, so caught up in her astonishment she had almost forgotten anyone else was there.

Justin is seated at the grand piano, his black suit jacket discarded on one of the nearby chairs, the sleeves of his sea blue dress shirt rolled up to his elbows. He sways gently to the music he’s making, his eyes closed, letting the rolling notes of the piano move his body. She thinks she recognizes the song, but she can’t quite place it, stepping forward as she tries to decipher the tune.

His eyes open and she freezes where she stands, a deer caught in the headlights. He grins widely at her, his fingers still dancing across the keys.

“Hey Charlotte!” he beams jovially and she smiles at him uncertainly. He’s always so happy to see her, or so it seems. Such a charmer

“Hi,” she replies shyly and he tugs his head back, beckoning her closer as his song changes to something slow and pulsing and Charlotte would know that melody anywhere.

“You like this song,” he asks smiling knowingly and that’s when Charlotte realizes she’s grinning like a fool as she rushes towards him.

“Yeah, its one of my favorites!” Charlotte exclaims, bobbing her head to the beat that is so engrained in her.

It reminds her of crisp autumn days, coming home from school to find her father asleep in the armchair, soot smudged across his nose and the record player spinning. It reminds her of summer nights, sitting on the front porch of their Pennsylvania farm house, listening to the crickets sing and the radio crackle out this melody. It reminds her of her brothers playing football in the yard. It reminds her of her parents dancing in the living room. It reminds her of home. A dull ache settles in her chest at the remembrance, a pang of longing for her childhood home, for the lost years of her youth.

“Remember when the days were long / And rolled beneath a deep blue sky / Didn’t have a care in the world / With mommy and daddy standing by…”

Charlotte’s breath catches in her throat as his voice rings out into the large room, his shoulders shimmying just slightly as his long fingers glide across the keys. He grins at her as he sings and he’s just genuinely happy to have someone listen. He hasn’t performed in a long time and he finds, as he always does when it happens, he’s missed it, a tension in his chest lifting and he’s never more free than he is right now at this piano with just this one person listening to him sing.

“…Offer up your best defense / But this is the eeeeeeeeeeeend / This is the eeeeeeeeeeeeeeend of the innocence.”

He stops there, just after the end of the first chorus, fearing he’ll never stop if he goes on, the piano dying away as his hands pull back. He opens his eyes to find Charlotte staring at him in awe, her green eyes dancing happily and he can’t remember the last time someone has looked at him that way. He’s performed in front of thousands, millions if you count television audiences, but none of that compares to right now and the look on Charlotte’s face.

He smiles at her and she blinks, shaking her head as if to clear it and tucks her hair behind her ear nervously, an awkward silence stretching out between them.

“Hey, have you ever heard this one?” Justin asks, swallowing hard and shaking his head, cutting the awkwardness with a slow, deep melody.

Charlotte screws up her face and listens hard. “No…I don’t think so,” she resigns after a moment and he grins.

“Hush hush, sweet Charlotte / Charlotte, don't you cry / Hush hush, sweet Charlotte / He'll love you till he dies”

Charlotte gasps at him, blushing furiously and he laughs, his voice stopping but his fingers still coax the melody out of the instrument, grinning up at her.

“I didn’t even know there was a song with my name in it,” Charlotte confesses, her cheeks burning and Justin grins, nodding.

“Hush Hush Sweet Charlotte by Patti Page...” he says sighing, “who's other numbers also include…” he trails and the tune turns jaunty and playful, “How much is that dooooooggy in the window,” He barks playfully and Charlotte has to cover her mouth to suppress her giggles, “the one with the waaaaaaggly taaaaaaaaail”

“Justin what on earth are you doing?”

Its Amelia’s voice, annoyed yet slightly amused and the music stops, Justin’s hands jumping back from the keys and he smiles at his fiancé. She crosses her arms over her chest, raising an eyebrow at him and Charlotte watches his neck redden slightly. He stands from his place at the piano and pads over to her opening his arms to engulf her in an embrace. Amelia allows him to kiss her cheek, her fingertips running down his forearms.

“Charlotte you can go now,” she says, frowning as she unrolls one of Justin’s sleeves. “I’ll see you Monday.”

“Okay, see you Monday,” Charlotte replies, heaving a small sigh of relief that her day is finally over and moving towards the staircase.

“Nice talking to you, Charlotte,” Justin adds and Charlotte looks back, finding him grinning at her and she gives him a small smile in return before disappearing down the stairs

“What do you say we stay in tonight?” Amelia asks, buttoning Justin’s cuff and he gives her a bewildered look.

“It’s Friday night,” he says, allowing her to unroll his other sleeve and button the cuff for him. “You feelin’ okay babe? You weren’t abducted by aliens were you?” His eyes grow large, his voice alarmed, “You’re not a pod person are you?”

“Oh stop,” Amelia scoffs, reaching to straighten his tie

“Quick, what’s my nickname?!” Justin exclaims grabbing onto her biceps in mock panic.

“Oh Jesus Christ,” Amelia mutters, rolling her eyes.

“Wrong!” Justin exclaims then screws up his face, pondering. “That’d be a pretty ambitious nickname.”

“Oh shut up.”

Justin grins cheekily. “You sure you’re okay?” he asks, his face softening, reaching up to hook his finger under her chin. “You always wanna go out on Friday nights.”

“And you never wanna go out on Friday nights,” Amelia snaps and Justin tenses, waiting for her to either blow up or move on “Ugh I’m just exhausted,” Amelia sighs, her eyes closing and Justin nods, pulling her against his chest, swaying her gently.

“We can stay in,” he says softly, his fingers smoothing against her hair. “Movie night?”

“That would be great,” Amelia sighs and he pulls back grinning

“Casablanca?” Justin asks bouncing excitedly. That’s just what he needs, not the fans, or the lights, or the music. Just a night with Bogey and his girl.

“Uh I was thinking The English Patient,” Amelia replies and Justin’s heart drops a little but he nods, smiling at her.

“You go change. I’ll get the movie set up,” he says, pecking her forehead and she pats his chest turning towards their bedroom. “Hey I’ll even let you wear one of my old t-shirts,” he hollers by way of suggestion and she doesn’t even turn around, just gives him a short wave of acknowledgement.

Justin sighs, trudging down the steps and snaking back around the staircase toward the entertainment room. Flicking on the lights, he grabs the remote trying to remember all the buttons it takes to turn the damn thing on. Best of the best, that’s what Amelia always has to have. God forbid it be convenient. He presses a few buttons, furrowing his brow and his head snaps up when he hears a click and the large flat-screen glows blue.

“Okay now for the DVD player,” he mutters to himself, pressing another button and the lights dim. He growls in frustration.

“Having trouble?”

Its Amelia’s voice from the doorway and he turns to find her in cream silk pajamas, a tiny polo player embroidered on the breast pocket. He frowns.

“I said you could wear one of my shirts,” he says, hoping she’ll get his hint but she merely blinks at him.

“Why on earth would I do that?” she asks taking the remote from his hands. “I have pajamas.” Justin sighs. “Go change. I’ll set up the movie.” She smirks at him.

He gives her a rueful grin before pinching her ass, receiving a yelp in return and darting out of the room before she can smack him. He returns minutes later in a thin t-shirt and pajama pants, finding Amelia curled up on one of the large couches, the previews playing. Justin bites his lip, sneaking up and then bounding over the back of the couch, Amelia screeching loudly in surprise as he plops down next to her. He dissolves into laughter and Amelia scoffs smacking his shoulder.

“You scared me to death!” she exclaims as he settles next to her, leaning against her slightly.

“As was my plan,” he replies, his arms going around her waist as he nuzzles at her neck and she squirms, reaching for the remote.

“You’re an ass,” she responds, pressing play and he grins cheekily at her, nibbling at her ear.

“You love it,” he says sighing, slouching down and resting his cheek against her bicep as the movie starts.

“I thought you were going to get rid of those pants,” Amelia says and Justin looks down at himself, brushing his hands on the balled up cotton on his thigh.

“I like these pants,” he replies.

“You have that nice silk set my mother got you for Christmas and you run around in that threadbare cotton,” Amelia sighs and Justin nuzzles her arm.

“I like these,” he says again, one large hand smoothing across her stomach and Amelia looks at him, a smirk pulling at her lips.

“Oh and you don’t like the ones my mother got you?”

Justin tenses, looking up at her and finding her eyebrow lifted, a questioning look on her face. He swallows hard.

“Um…I do! I do like them I just…like these better,” he replies, cringing slightly, waiting for her reaction.

She turns back to the television. “I like the silk ones.”

“Yes, dear,” he replies, settling against her again, struggling to get comfortable, his head resting against Amelia’s arm. “Hey babe?” he questions, his hand running down her thigh.

“Yes?” she replies, watching his hand out of the corner of her eye.

“Scratch my head,” he says, sliding all the way down so that his head lays in her lap, his feet dangling off the end of the couch.

Amelia sighs, irritated as her hand falls to his head, long nails scraping against his scalp soothingly. He sighs, eyes closing as he turns his face into her stomach.

“Your hair is getting long,” Amelia says off handedly. “You should have Felicity make you an appointment.”

“I can shave it myself, babe,” he replies, his hand coming up and letting his fingers brush the underside of her forearm as her hand moves over the short bristles of his hair

“Yes but then you get hair all over the bathroom,” Amelia chides, her fingers tugging on the short strands.

“I was thinking of letting it grow a little bit anyway,” he says, kissing her lower stomach softly and allowing his eyes to close as her nails scrape over the sweet spot on his crown.

Amelia’s hand stops. “Why? I like it short.”

Justin doesn’t open his eyes, hoping her fingers will start again. “Just something different,” he says, shrugging as he presses his lips to her stomach again.

“Do you wanna have sex?” Amelia asks suddenly and Justin’s eyes fly open, looking up at her slightly bewildered.

“Huh?”

“You’re all over me,” Amelia replies, a slight edge in her voice but her face is a mask. “I assume you wanna have sex?”

This is a dangerous question. Justin watches her for a moment but can’t discern her features. He hates when she does this to him. Poses a question that has a fifty-fifty shot of pissing her off. If he says yes then he’s an insensitive ass who only wants to get laid. If he says no, and that’s the wrong answer, then he has to sit through a forty minute conversation on why he doesn’t want to have sex. He takes a deep breath.

“I was just cuddling you, babe,” he says softly, hoping the smooth caress of his voice will calm her if need be. “You don’t wanna cuddle?” He gives her a charming smile and waits for her reaction, his stomach tight.

She stares down at him for three long seconds before cracking a smile and shaking her head. “Okay sometimes I really think you’re the woman in this relationship.”

Justin sighs in relief, chuckling slightly as he rolls so he’s facing the television, his cheek resting on Amelia’s warm thighs. Crisis averted. His stomach uncoils slightly and he fights the disappointed sound in his throat when her hand slides from his head to rest on his shoulder, feeling her settle in to watch the movie. His cheek rubs against the cool silk of her pajamas, wishing it was the smooth skin of her bare legs but he’s happy to just be here with her. Just him and her watching a movie. He loves her. He really does. Despite all she puts him through. He loves her.

Four of diamonds on five of clubs. Five of clubs on six of hearts. New card is the three of diamonds. Charlotte sighs as she clicks on the new card and drags it up onto the diamond foundation and goes through the tableau of cards on her screen, picking out the five of diamonds and then the six before she has to go to her stock pile to draw three more cards. She sighs, glancing down at the clock at the corner of the screen and seeing that she still has twenty more minutes until Kaitie gets back from lunch and Amelia returns from her meeting with Patti.

It’s relatively quiet for a Monday, no big meetings or phone conferences, no important paperwork to be ferried from here to there. Charlotte attributes it to the upcoming Christmas season, projects slowing to a halt until the start of the New Year. But even the upcoming holiday hasn’t quelled Amelia’s insane wedding schedule. Patti has been in the office nearly every day, talking about flowers, themes, table cards and flower girl dresses and Charlotte was in Justin’s office nearly every day with fabric for him to feel and ink colors for him to choose from, even though Amelia always did what she wanted whether it was Justin’s preference or not. But it was a way for Charlotte to get out of the office and sometimes the break would be just what she needed to keep her sanity. Justin would always greet her with a grin and a wave, doing that little half stand thing some guys do when women enter the room.

She’s grown quite fond of Justin, enjoying his corny jokes and rolling her eyes at his little jabs. He’s like the old uncle at every family reunion that tells dirty jokes and teases you mercilessly. You tolerate it all evening and by the end you kind of start to enjoy it. 

Charlotte stifles a yawn, checking the clock again and then glancing out the window onto the glittering street below. Fifth Avenue shines in red, green, and gold and tiny people all bundled up are hurrying to get where they’re going as a wicked chill blows its way through Central Park. The sky is a dark gray color and there’s call for snow by the end of the day. Charlotte checks the clock again. Maybe Amelia will let her go early. She still has some Christmas shopping to do and anything is better than sitting in the office waiting for the phone to ring or waiting for Amelia to find something to complain about.

She nearly jumps out of her skin as the door to the office opens and Amelia breezes in, her cheeks pink from cold, her blond hair flowing down over her shoulders in soft curls. She is a vision in charcoal gray, her alabaster skin glowing in the soft light. Charlotte immediately closes her game of Solitaire and stands, waiting to be told what to do.

“Good afternoon, Amelia,” she says after a moment, watching Amelia unwrap herself from the woolen cocoon of her cape.

“Oh it’s hardly good,” Amelia snaps and Charlotte braces herself for what’s coming. “Would you just look at these?”

Amelia drops a plain white box on the desk and Charlotte gives her a cautious look before pulling the top of the box off. Sitting in a bed of tissue paper is a small card, wrapped in brilliant white gossamer like some beautiful gift Charlotte could only dream was for her. A small square placard turned on its corner and emblazoned with beautifully scripted lettering, a small “A” and “J” with a large “T” in the middle, sits in the center of the swathed invitation, adhered to the wrapping, holding the gossamer in place. Charlotte looks up at Amelia who nods, urging her to continue. Charlotte gently tears away the tag, her fingertips brushing the soft gossamer before peeling it away. Underneath the light fabric is a small card, brilliant white and smooth like no paper Charlotte has ever felt, gate folded so that it opens from the center. On the left gate is an embossed letter “A” in beautiful script and across the opening line in the paper is a matching letter “J.” Charlotte holds her breath as she opens the card, the heavy paper resistant against her as she pulls so it unfolds gracefully, the two sides expanding into a double gate. Inside in elegant black script is the following:

Amelia

daughter of Mr. and Mrs. Preston Domineck
and
Justin Randall Timberlake
son of Mr. and Mrs. Paul Harless
request the honor of your presence

as they exchange vows of marriage

on Saturday, the twenty-fifth of June

two thousand and eleven
at six o'clock in the evening
St. Thomas Church
1 W 53rd St
New York, New York

Charlotte looks up at Amelia who is staring at her expectantly and she doesn’t know what to do. In her hands is one of the single most beautiful things she has ever seen. She couldn’t possibly fathom what’s wrong with it.

“I think they’re beautiful,” Charlotte says after a moment, feeling she might as well take her chances as opposed to trying to guess what was wrong with them.

Amelia rolls her eyes and snatches the card from Charlotte’s hands, irritated. “The typography is all wrong!” she exclaims, huffing as she charges back into her office. She’s still talking, her voice muffled by the wall separating them and Charlotte has to listen hard to catch what she’s saying, “I specifically said Citadel Script medium and this is clearly Citadel Script bold. That ninth grader they had working in sales had no clue what he was doing. Ugh I knew I should have gone with the printers I wanted instead of humoring…GET JUSTIN ON THE PHONE!”

Charlotte jumps at the sudden rise in hostility, scrambling to reach for the phone and sighing as she listens to it ring, hearing Amelia in the background all the while. “This is just horrible. I could have freehanded these better myself!”

Charlotte cringes. Felicity better answer the phone pretty damn quick because Amelia’s tone is going from annoyed to irate, babbling on about the space between the letters and the paper isn’t even really all that great and it cost a bloody fortune…

“Yeeeeeeeello.”

Charlotte’s attention is jerked back to the phone in her hand as a jovial male voice greets her. She’s slightly shocked by the informal greeting and it takes her a beat before speaking.

“Er…”

“Oh…shit…um…” she hears the voice mutter, then what sounds like the clearing of a throat and then a cool, lazy, “Justin Timberlake’s office.”

“Um…Justin?” Charlotte asks, leaning over and peering into Amelia’s office, finding her leaning over the invitation spread out over her desk, examining it with a magnifying glass, still muttering to herself.

“Charlotte! Hey girl, how are you?” he asks and she can hear the grin in his voice, causing a smile to pull at her own lips.

“Well I’m-”

“Did he just answer the phone?” Amelia asks, suddenly stopping her examination of the invitation and looking at Charlotte through narrowed eyes. Charlotte cringes turning back in her chair.

“Amelia in a bad mood?” Justin asks with a sigh and Charlotte rubs her forehead.

“When isn’t she?” Charlotte mutters and then gasps, her hand flying to her mouth and the line is quiet for a moment.

Why did she say that? What the hell was she thinking? You don’t talk about your boss that way and you sure as hell don’t do it on the phone with your boss’s fiancé. Charlotte is panicking, trying to think of anything that could possibly account for her statement. She was talking to someone else maybe? About something completely different? But it’s then that Justin’s loud laughter echoes through the phone, gasping for breath, coughing with the intensity of it.

“Oh god, tell me she heard you say that?”

“Ugh never mind,” Charlotte hears Amelia mutter from the other room and then her voice is in her ear right along with Justin’s. “What are you doing answering the phone? Where’s Felicity?”

“Well I-”

“Oh never mind, get over here. These invitations are horrendous.” A click sounds and Charlotte knows Amelia has hung up. She hears Justin sigh.

“See you in a few,” Charlotte offers meekly and Justin laughs but it fades quickly.

“Yeeeeeah.”

It takes Justin forty-five minutes to get to Amelia’s office. Forty-five agonizing minutes in which Charlotte spends going through the week’s schedule while trying to ignore her boss’s Jimmy Choo’s tapping irritatedly against the floor. Kaitie breezes back in from lunch and she and Amelia spend a good fifteen minutes examining the invitations and picking them apart while Charlotte pretends to organize the filing cabinet in the front office. She still thinks the invitations are gorgeous and knows if that’s her opinion than it isn’t welcome in there.

Charlotte is bent down under the desk when Justin finally arrives, hurrying through the door and bouncing on his toes in an effort to keep warm.

“Hey Charlotte, where’s the fire?”

Charlotte raises up quickly, cracking the back of her head against the desk and yelping in surprise, an obscenity flying from her lips. She winces, rubbing the tender spot as her eyes fall on Justin who looks slightly shocked by her outburst but chuckles none the less, stepping towards her in concern.

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” she replies weakly, rubbing the acorn sized knot raising on her crown and she can still hear Amelia going at it in the other room.

“Do you SEE the way this loop on the M touches the A....if it wasn’t bold this wouldn’t be happening…”

Charlotte shakes her head. “What’d you say?”

“Just asked where the fire was,” he grins, rubbing his hands together quickly. “So I can stand next to it…it’s cold as-.”

“THERE you are,” Amelia exclaims striding out of her office, invitation in hand, Kaitie following to stand in the doorway. “What took you so long?”

“Hey darlin’” Justin drawls, walking over to her and pecking her cheek softly, running a hand up and down her back.

“I called you forty-five minutes ago,” Amelia says and Justin sighs, stepping back from her.

“I’m sorry babe, traffic was ridiculous and it took me forever to get a cab-”

“Cab?” Amelia asks, her face screwing up in confusion. “Why on earth did you take a cab?”

Justin’s eyes widen slightly and he shifts from foot to foot. He hadn’t wanted to tell her that. “Um…”

“Is there any particular reason you took a cab as opposed to the town car service for your building?” Amelia asks, raising an eyebrow and Charlotte glances at Kaite who widens her eyes and cringes, slinking around Amelia and over to the filing cabinets.

Justin can feel himself tensing under Amelia’s severe gaze. “Um...I like cabs...”

“You like cabs?” Amelia asks, chuckling slightly and shaking her head. She trains her eyes on him. “Did Felicity get the fax I sent earlier?”

Charlotte cringes, turning to the computer and swirling the mouse around on the screen. She doesn’t want to hear this. She’s heard Amelia bait Justin on so many occasions that it’s actually almost painful to listen to at this point. Justin can try and evade her for a while but Amelia always finds a way to get whatever it is he’s hiding out of him.

“Um…I dunno,” Justin responds and Amelia sighs shaking her head.

“I told her it was time sensitive.”

“Um…well…I’m sure it’s on my desk then. I’ll look when I get back.”

“Is it really that busy over there?” Amelia asks turning to go into her office and Justin glances at Charlotte and Kaitie before steeling himself and following his fiancé.

“Well you know how it is,” he replies.

“I was just asking because you were answering the phone,” Amelia replies and Justin watches his shoes scuff the carpet. “Felicity was at lunch?”

Justin hums noncommittally. “Well you know…we’ve got that issue with Kalaya’s album. I’ve got that meeting with the accounting head tomorrow.”

“How do you think it’ll go?” Amelia asks disinterestedly, flipping through some papers and Justin sighs, leaning against the back of one of the couches.

“I dunno. We’re already over budget,” Justin rubs the back of his neck. “But she’s just now really starting to find her sound and she’s coming into some good stuff it’s just-”

“Are you sure Felicity got that fax?” Amelia interrupts, and Justin looks at her slightly bewildered. “I should call and ask…” She reaches for the phone

“She’s not there,” Justin says and then cringes. She gets him every time.

“Oh…where is she?” Amelia asks, folding her hands on her desk and looking up at him innocently.

“Um…lunch?”

“But you said she was at lunch before…that’s why you answered the phone.”

“She’s running errands,” Justin says and Amelia narrows her eyes, pulling herself from her chair and rounding the desk slowly.

“Really?” she asks, crossing her arms over her chest. “What kind of errands?”

“Um…”

“Justin…” Amelia says, warning in her voice and he sighs, giving up.

“She’s in Cabo.”

Amelia’s eyes narrow. “So you lied to me.”

“Baby,” Justin says, opening his arms to her and grinning in what he hopes is a charming way.

“Don’t you ‘baby’ me!” Amelia snaps, holding a hand out and warding him off. “And what is Felicity doing in Cabo again?”

“Oh come on, there’s nothing really going on. Let the kid have some fun,” Justin says and Amelia sighs, snatching the phone from its cradle.

“I’m calling her father.”

“Amelia,” Justin whines, rolling his head on his neck as he draws out the vowels in her name. “Come on don’t do that.”

“No, this is ridiculous. You gave her that job as a favor to Cassius because he’s a friend of the family and she just runs off whenever she wants,” she exclaims, flailing her arms and nearly sending the phone crashing off her desk.

“Amelia, come on stop okay. It’s really fine,” Justin says, his voice taking on a soothing quality. Amelia eyes him hard.

“Honestly I don’t know why you put up with it,” Amelia sighs, dropping the phone back into the cradle and crossing her arms over her chest.

Justin sighs, swaggering forward and slipping his arms around her waist. Amelia doesn’t reciprocate, not willing to give in just yet. “Come on babe. I like Felicity.”

“Oh I’m sure you do,” Amelia replies and Justin drops his arms from her waist.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asks, a slight edge in his voice and Amelia shrugs unaffectedly, sliding past him.

“Nothing. It doesn’t mean a thing,” Amelia sighs, walking around the room and fluffing the leaves on her Sansevieria plant.

Justin eyes her moodily, his brow knit. There’re a lot of things he’ll take from Amelia. He can deal with the tantrums and the perfectionist tendencies. She’s high maintenance, she’s always been that way. More so now than in the past but some of the very qualities that made him love her, her fierce drive, her perfectionism, are the same qualities he himself possesses. So he can deal with all of that. But accusations of infidelity are not something he’ll tolerate.

“Amelia, don’t-”

“Charlotte?” she hollers, poking at the soil in the pot and Justin shuts his mouth, sighing as Charlotte peeks her head into the room. From the look on her face it’s obvious this office is the last place she wants to be right now. “When was the last time we watered the plants?”

“Um-”

“They could use some water,” Amelia says, sneering at the dirt on her fingers and rubbing it away. “So what are you going to do for an assistant while Felicity is chasing cabana boys in Cabo?”

“I’ll manage,” Justin grumbles, eyeing Charlotte as she comes in with a bottle of water, going from plant to plant, tipping water into the pots.

“What? Don’t be ridiculous,” Amelia says, settling behind her desk again and Justin glares at her.

“What, you think I can’t manage my own office?” Justin asks, crossing his arms over his chest.

Amelia leans over her desk and laughs. “You staple things to your ties Justin.” She laughs again and Charlotte ducks her head in embarrassment for him.

“I can run my own office,” Justin says firmly, his ears pinkening, his eyes flitting to Charlotte nervously. It’s one thing to be berated by your fiancé. It’s another to have it done in front of an audience.

Amelia sighs. “Justin, what’s on your schedule for this afternoon?”

“What? I don’t fucking know,” he says, his face screwing up in annoyance, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Exactly! You don’t know. You need an assistant,” Amelia says, opening her day planner. She looks up adding, “And don’t curse.”

“Amel-” he starts, getting more and more perturbed by the second.

Amelia snaps. “You CAN'T go running around all week without an assistant!”

Charlotte stops biting her lip and she doesn’t turn around, not even daring to move. The door is all the way across the room and there’s no means of escape that wouldn’t draw their attention to her. She really doesn’t want to be here. She doesn’t want to hear Amelia cut Justin down inch by inch. She wants to go back out front and file or make business calls and not be in this room with them as they argue. Although she can’t help the little part inside her that cheers him on when he finally yells at her.

“I'm a grown ass man I'm pretty sure I can run my own fucking office!” Justin yells, more out of embarrassment than anger. He doesn’t want his life broadcast to everyone. Not even Amelia’s assistants.

Amelia merely blinks at him, standing from behind her desk, her eyes ablaze and Justin swallows hard. She walks around her desk, taking long punctuated steps towards him, her face a mask. Justin bites his lip, watching her carefully, barely even breathing.

“Don’t.” Amelia reaches up, straightening his tie. “Curse.” She pats his chest, giving him a tense smile that’s more of a warning than anything else before turning her back on him. “Why did you take a cab earlier, Justin?”

Justin lets his head fall back, sighing in exhaustion. “Because I felt like it.”

Amelia turns to him raising an eyebrow. “Really? Are you sure it wasn’t because you didn’t know how to call for a town car?”

“No,” Justin snaps petulantly.

“Oh really?” she asks, settling behind the desk. “What number do you call to order a car out front?”

Justin shifts “Um...well…” he bristles, clearing his throat. “I don't have it memorized.”

Amelia smirks, writing something down in her day planner. “You dial one and the front desk does it for you.” She sighs. “Just...just take Charlotte for the week.”

Charlotte is finally slinking her way out of the office when she hears her name and stops dead in her tracks. There’s no way she just heard that correctly. She turns slowly, finding Justin looking at her blankly and Amelia shuffling papers on her desk. She chuckles to herself, slightly confused.

“Um…what?” she asks, looking from Justin to Amelia and back again.

Amelia looks up from her paper work and smiles slowly, looking Charlotte up and down. “Yes... yes take Charlotte.”

Charlotte’s eyes widen, cutting to Justin again, hoping he’ll insist otherwise, hoping he’ll stand his ground just once. But all he does is smile weakly at her before bowing his head in concession. Of course, why did she ever think he would do otherwise? She glances from Justin to Amelia, watching her sign her name with a flourish and she can’t help but wonder if this is all some setup, if this is part of the elaborate mind game that Amelia is constantly playing with Justin and Charlotte is just caught in the crossfire.

“Well now that that is settled,” Amelia sighs, reaching for the invitation that’s laying across her desk. “get over here and look at these invitations, they are absolutely atrocious!”

She had made up her mind the night before that she would not become a victim of Justin’s flirtations. Amelia obviously had concerns about his fidelity. Why else would she be constantly trying to set him up? Did he have a history of this kind of thing? What about Felicity? Patti? Had he somehow propositioned them? Had he slept with one, the other, or both? Was he interested in sleeping with Charlotte, herself? All of these questions had swirled around in her mind, making it difficult for her to sleep, so waking this morning had been a treat, exhaustion mingling with her dread.

She was just going to do her job. She would be polite and helpful as she very well should be but she would remain professional. She wouldn’t fall for his flirtatious charm. As soon as he came in she would brief him on his schedule for the day. She would give him his phone messages. She would place calls he needed to return. She would ask if he would like to respond to emails. She would read him the emails and he would dictate to her his responses. No jokes, no flirtations, just business. This was her well thought out, carefully constructed plan.

She had expected him in at about 8:30, quarter to nine, so when he came strolling in at about ten after eight, it sent her well thought out, carefully constructed plan right out the window and it nearly sent her tumbling out of her desk chair.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you,” he had said as he shimmied out of his coat and hung it on the rack next to the door. “Amelia’s idea of breakfast is a bagel and coffee. I’m starving. Hey do you wanna go get something? Have you eaten? What’s my schedule like?”

She stares up at him dumbfounded, still reeling from the fact that he’s actually in front of her so it takes her a full beat before she even moves. She stutters slightly, reaching for the leather portfolio that holds his life for the next month.

“Ah who cares, come on let’s go,” he says, reaching for his coat again and Charlotte just stares at him open mouthed.

“Um…you have…phone calls you should return and-” Charlotte stutters, trying to remember the plan and his hand flies to his head as if just remembering something.

“Oh yeah I’ve gotta call Antunes about working on Grateman’s tour,” Justin says, shrugging his coat off again and checking his watch. “Shit I should do that now. How about you order breakfast. There’s a place just down the street that delivers. They make an egg sandwich like you wouldn’t believe.”

And with that he disappears into his office and Charlotte is left slightly dazed, wondering if he’s always like this. Even though Charlotte thought Amelia to be slightly insane, she had to admit that her boss’s hard-nosed nature worked well in business. She was cut throat and deathly practical and she never once deviated from the schedule. She lived and breathed by what was in her day planner and Charlotte kind of enjoyed the routine. It was the only way one could really get anything accomplished in her position. But Justin isn’t Amelia and if this is the way he works then she’ll have to get used to this, too.

After breakfast arrives and the delivery girl is paid and gone, Charlotte knocks softly on Justin’s door receiving a low “enter” from inside. She peeks her head in and finds Justin leaning back in his chair, the keyboard on his knees, and his socked feet propped up on the desk. His suit jacket has been discarded somewhere in the room, his shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows, his tie slightly loose at his collar. He grins at her, chuckling a little at his own humor before his face changes to a look of longing when he sees the bag in her hand.

“Oh thank god, I was about to chew my arm off,” he exclaims, dropping his feet to the floor and letting the keyboard fall onto the desk with a clatter.

Charlotte cringes at the sound, stepping towards his desk. He moves various papers out of the way, rubbing his hands together as Charlotte sets the bag in front of him, pulling his schedule from under her arm and consulting it.

“Um…you have a-”

“Did you get yourself something?” he asks, pawing through the bag and pulling out a massive ball of butcher paper as the smell of bacon and fried egg fills the room.

“No,” Charlotte says, shaking her head and looking down at the portfolio in her hands, clearing her throat. “Today you have a-”

“Damn girl you’re really missing out,” he says, unwrapping the biggest breakfast sandwich Charlotte has ever seen, licking his lips before trying to wrap his mouth around it.

Charlotte fights the giggle in her throat. He looks ridiculous.

“Si’ ‘own,” he says, chewing slowly and motioning to the chair across from his desk.

Charlotte bites her lip, settling stiffly across from him. This was not how she envisioned this going. She had a plan dammit.

“So what am I doing today?” he asks, between bites and she eyes him for a moment before looking down at his schedule again.

“You have a meeting with Eytan Sugarman at ten to discuss new sous-chef possibilities for your restaurant,” Charlotte pauses looking up at Justin, waiting for him to interrupt her but he just nods his head. “You have lunch with accounting and distribution to discuss the funding for Kalaya’s record. You have a meeting with a song writer at two, it doesn’t say who-”

“Probably some new guy the reps hired,” Justin sighs, rolling his eyes. “I keep telling them, you need to buy the songs not hire the song writers.”

Charlotte nods like she knows what he’s talking about. He shakes his head and is about to take another bite of his sandwich when he looks at her.

“You want a bite?” he asks, offering his sandwich out to her and Charlotte looks at it for a moment before shaking her head.

“Uh…no I’m good…thanks.”

“You sure? I swear to god this is the best thing since they invented the egg.” He goes to take another bite, grinning, waiting for Charlotte’s giggle. She smiles tightly at him.

“You have some calls you need to return and some emails to respond to. Which would you like to do first?”

Justin looks at her, his sandwich halfway to his mouth and he chuckles. “Well I wanna finish my sandwich.”

Charlotte closes her eyes, cringing at her own idiocy. “Right. Of course. Sorry.”

“Returning phone calls while eating is bad etiquette,” he says, taking a huge bite of his sandwich, working his jaw slowly for a moment, and then begins to speak, his words barely discernable through the wad of food in his mouth “’hy ‘es ‘ister ‘ank’am! I ‘ould ‘ove ‘oo ‘ave ‘unds ‘or a ‘ew ‘ecord.”

Charlotte bites her lip, forcing down a laugh. She won’t laugh at him. She won’t be charmed by him. He will NOT get in her pants. What? Charlotte’s eyes widen and she fumbles with the portfolio as she fights the urge to clasp her hand over her mouth just in case that thought was to slip out.

“Um you have a meeting with Johan Lindeberg at three to discuss the promotion for the spring line of your clothing company and you’re meeting Amelia for drinks at seven.”

Charlotte rambles this off quickly, swallowing hard at the end and he narrows his eyes at her over the last bit of his sandwich, regarding her curiously. Well, she may look like an idiot but at least she’s not sending him the wrong signal. She tucks her hair behind her ear.

“You have lots of phone calls to return and emails to respond to,” Charlotte murmurs, not meeting his eyes. “Which would you prefer to do first?”

Justin eyes her, his expression still curious, as he shoves the last piece of his sandwich in his mouth, chewing slowly before shrugging and dusting the crumbs from his hands.

“We can do emails I guess.”

“Would you like me to read them to you and you dictate back to me?” Charlotte asks when he doesn’t move from his seat. A slow grin pulls across his face.

“You just wanna sit in my comfy chair don’t you?” he jokes, spinning from side to side, a playful glint in his eyes. Charlotte almost smiles but she pushes it down.

“Well, I figured it would be easier,” she replies casually and his smile fades into that curious look again with a hint of something Charlotte can’t quite place.

He sighs, nodding. “Sure.”

They both stand and go to move around the desk but come to an impass when they nearly run smack into each other. Charlotte ducks her head moving left as Justin moves right. She ducks her head lower and goes to move right as Justin moves left. He chuckles.

“If you wanted to dance all you had to do was ask,” he says, his voice quiet and deep and Charlotte looks up her green eyes crashing into his blue orbs.

He’s smiling at her softly clearly amused and she feels her heart drop to her toes. He’s staring down at her, his body mere inches from hers, the light musk of his cologne enveloping her. Dancing. Definitely not in the plan. She clears her throat, slipping past him quickly and falling into his chair with a plop, trying to avoid his eyes. He looks back at her, narrowing his eyes, wondering what’s gotten into her.

Charlotte quickly opens his email finding a long list of unopened messages. This was going to take awhile. Justin settles in the seat she just recently occupied, slouching low and smoothing his tie down his chest. He watches her for a moment before resolving to try again.

“Charlotte,” he says, crossing one leg over the other and regarding her amusedly. She glances at him quickly but doesn’t hold his gaze.

“Yes?” she asks after a moment, clicking on an email from Amelia that’s still rallying on about the invitations. She’ll save that one for later.

“Charlotte,” he says her name again, his eyes narrowed just slightly, studying her intently, his tongue moving slowly across the inside of his lip.  “Hmmm… Charlotte.” He says again, drawing out the vowels in her name and she’s about to respond again when he breaks into a grin. “Mind if I call you Charlie?”

Her hands stop what they’re doing, freezing over the keyboard. She turns her face to him slowly, finding him smiling with child-like glee. She swallows hard. She hates when people call her Charlie.

“Um…actually…” she cringes wondering if she should be reprimanding her boss. “I kinda do yeah.”

Justin’s grin widens. “Never shoulda told me that.” He chuckles.

Charlotte sighs. He’s like a little kid. She could almost see why Amelia was so stern with him. He’s like a force of nature, bounding from one topic to the next so quickly that you’re brain gets completely turned around. Maybe this was one of his tactics... She doesn’t respond, just stares blankly at the screen, not even looking at him.

“You don’t find me funny anymore do you?”

Charlotte’s head whips to face him and she finds him looking at her curiously from across his desk, his blue eyes surveying her as if he were trying to solve a riddle. She is slightly taken aback by the intensity of his gaze, her stomach knotting. Is he flirting with her? Is he trying to get closer to her? Amelia must have her concerns for a reason. But all these questions suddenly seem ludicrous to Charlotte and she doesn’t really know why.

“Huh?” is her only response, too muddled in her own thoughts to come up with something else.

“You used to laugh at my jokes and now you don’t,” he states simply.

Charlotte merely blinks at him, her mind racing. Where could he possibly be going with this? She doesn’t laugh at his jokes. A lot of people don’t laugh at a lot of different jokes It doesn’t necessarily mean anything. Just because she used to laugh before doesn’t mean she’s willing to sleep with him. What? Charlotte swallows hard, biting her lip incase that thought should slip out.  He shakes his head suddenly as if he just realized he was staring and looks down at the foot that’s resting on his thigh, fiddling with his shoelace.

“Forget it,” he says, shaking his head as he smoothes a hand over the hem of his pants.

He sighs, settling back in his chair, looking at her blankly and it’s as if someone dimmed the lights, his usual playful nature quelled into a quiet professional air. She studies him for a moment, finding his face pleasant but lacking his usual humor. He almost looks disappointed for some reason. Possibly because she’s not responding to his flirtation? Or maybe that she’s not responding to him at all…

“How ‘bout those emails?” he asks, a small smile playing over his lips and Charlotte shakes her head hard, turning back to the screen and beginning to read, wondering all the while if her plan was really worth all this trouble.

***

It is while sliding across the warm leather seats of the town car that Charlotte first senses something amiss. Justin slips in behind her, folding his lanky frame inside and sighing as he settles next to her, running a hand over his hair restlessly. She studies him for a moment, his face blank as he watches the curb pull away and they slide easily into the midday traffic.

Charlotte shakes her head, brushing away the thought away as she flips open the portfolio that has all of the specs for the meeting they were attending. Photos are paper clipped to documents holding minute aspects of each man’s life, as well as business notes, facts and figures that could aid Justin in convincing them to give him more funding.

“You’re meeting with Johnson Brines who’s the head of distribution for Jive, he goes by John, his wife’s name is Mandy, they have no children-”

“Charlotte?” he interrupts and she looks up to find him gazing at her like she’s grown another head. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Um…” Charlotte says looking down at her carefully prepared notes. “You don’t want to be prepped?”

He narrows his eyes, confused. “Prepped?”

“Um…yeah where I give you information on-”

“Oh,” Justin says, smiling in realization. “The whole fake greeting thing.” He nods. “’How are you John, how’s Mandy, she buggin’ you for kids yet?’ That sort of thing?”

“Yeah,” Charlotte responds weakly and Justin sighs, turning back to the window.

“Yeah I don’t usually do that,” he replies simply, his voice devoid of any kind of emotion, his index finger tracing designs on the fogged window. Then he adds quietly, almost as if speaking to himself, “Amelia is so much better at schmoozing than I am.”

There’s a pang of longing in his voice that Charlotte doesn’t quite understand and she looks back down at her copious amount of notes on each of the three men Justin will be meeting with. It seems that it was all for naught.

“Keep going,” Justin sighs, turning back to her and waiting expectantly.

“Are you sure?” Charlotte asks, suddenly sensitive to the fact that she’d slipped into her role as Amelia’s assistant and all the expectations that went with that job as opposed to the one that was at hand.

“Yeah,” Justin says, smiling brightly but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yeah it can only help right?”

“Right,” Charlotte replies, returning his smile and continuing to rattle off facts as Justin repeats them in an attempt to remember.

The town car pulls up to the Chambers hotel, the large woven wood doors standing out starkly from the modern glass windows. Charlotte braces her hands on the seat, getting ready to scoot herself out after Justin but he doesn’t move, just looks out at the doors to the hotel, his face a mask.

“Hey,” Charlotte says quietly and he jumps, looking over at her and she sees just a hint of insecurity in his eyes before he smiles at her.

And now she understands. He’s nervous.

It’s slightly unsettling to her, Charlotte having never seen him anything less then confident but it was also rather endearing. She smiles warmly at him and his smile brightens, his shoulders slumping just a little.

“I hate these things,” he concedes quietly, looking out the window again, staring at the ominous wooden doors.

“You’re gonna do great,” Charlotte says, nodding encouragingly and he glances back at her quickly before returning his gaze to the doors.

“Kalaya’s album depends on me getting money from these guys,” Justin responds with a sigh. “Her career…her future…”

His stomach knots suddenly and he’s reminded once again that he’s not a businessman. So many people in his place would be anticipating this, ready for a fight. Justin wasn’t like that. He just wanted his artists to make their music, grow in their sound, find themselves as musicians. He doesn’t give a damn how much it costs. He’s an artist. He’s a musician and these guys are businessmen, more concerned with money than craft. He fears it will be like trying to talk to a wall.

“You know what needs to be done,” Charlotte says and he turns to her, finding her face set and determined. She nods confidently at him. “You know what you want and what Kalaya wants. The only thing you have to do is convince them of that.”

Justin blinks at her slowly. He hadn’t been expecting that. So often he’d heard “Justin you’re being ridiculous just go in there and get it done,” Amelia’s annoyance by his sudden lack of confidence sharp and unsympathetic. Charlotte nodded at him again, smiling uncertainly and he realized he’d been staring at her. He shook his head, smiling back at her, a silent thank you for her encouragement.

“Alright lets do this,” he says nodding, pushing the door to the car open and stepping out into the winter chill.

They bustle inside, making their way through the ultra modern lobby, towards the restaurant entrance. The host takes their heavy coats and Charlotte tells him that they’re meeting Johnson Brines for lunch. The host replies that their party is already seated as he hangs their coats on the racks. Charlotte looks into the dining room and spots the sleek dark head of Johnson Brine, his chiseled face the exact same as the one in the picture inside her portfolio. She takes a step toward the dining room and Justin reaches for her arm, his fingertips warm against the delicate skin of her inner elbow.

She turns back to him, bewildered by the sudden contact. Why is he touching her? Is this all some ploy to get in her good graces? Is he trying to get closer to her? But instead of finding him smiling at her, which she was sure he would be given her preoccupation with the fact that he was trying to sleep with her, she finds his face slightly uncertain.

”How’s my tie?” he asks, jutting out his chin and she chuckles slightly at herself.

“It’s a little crooked,” she says and he sighs, reaching up to straighten it but only succeeds in skewing it more. “Hang on,” Charlotte says, setting her portfolio on the host stand and reaching up.

He stands stock still, allowing her to adjust his tie at his throat and she smiles at him, smoothing it against his chest slightly before snatching her hands back. What is she doing? Her hands tremble slightly as she reaches for her portfolio again, awkwardness settling over her. She chances a look up at him and he smiles at her, not in a lustful way but in gratitude and Charlotte begins to wonder if she was overreacting, if Amelia’s concerns really had any validity at all.

Justin clears his throat and pushes back his shoulders, a quiet confidence washing over him and the effect is dazzling as he strides past Charlotte and into the low-lit dining room. Heads turn and quiet whispers follow him as he glides effortlessly around the small clothed tables, and it’s as if all the energy in the room is contained in him. Charlotte has to hurry to catch up.

“John!” Justin exclaims jovially, reaching for his hand and the other occupants of the table stand to greet him. “How’re you doin’? How’s Mandy?”

“I’m doing well, Justin,” John replies, smiling widely and nodding as he shakes his hand. “Mandy’s fine, just got involved with some charity so she’s never around. Gotta love that.” He chuckles at his own joke and Justin smiles courteously. “This is Jedson Sawyer, from accounting,” John says, leaning back and gesturing to a tall, lean man in his mid forties, dark hair graying at his temples.

Justin reaches for his hand. “Jed,” he says nodding. “How’s your daughter?” he screws up his face in a caricature of contemplation that has Charlotte impressed. “She’s at… Columbia yes?”

Jed smiles widely, shaking Justin’s hand heartily. “Yes indeed. Made the dean’s list this year.”

Justin’s face registers pure joy and Charlotte can hardly believe he thinks he’s bad at this. “Well how do ya like that!” Justin exclaims grinning, and his eyes fall on the last man at the table who looks to be about Charlotte’s age, his sand colored hair perfectly coiffed, his expression smug.

“Justin this is Chris Wickham,” John says, slapping the young man on the back and Chris reaches for Justin’s hand.

“Pleasure to meet you sir,” Chris says, giving Justin a dazzling smile and Justin nods, shaking his hand politely.

“Chris is learning the ropes,” John says and his smile widens as his eyes fall on Charlotte. “And who is this lovely young thing?”

Charlotte fights her blush, trying to smile as all eyes turn to her and Justin grins, motioning her forward. She steps up next to him, cringing when she feels his hand rest on the small of her back for just a moment before he pulls away at the feel of her discomfort.

“This is my assistant Charlotte,” Justin says with a small smile. “She’s here so I don’t embarrass myself horrendously.”

The men chuckle. Chris tilts his head to the side.

“Didn’t you work for Anderson Cripps at Gauge-Whitney?”

The other three men look at Charlotte, eyebrows raised and she can’t tell if they’re shocked or impressed. She shifts her feet awkwardly.

“Um…yes,” she says, nodding and smiling.

“I thought you worked for Amelia Domineck now,” Chris asks as they all move to take their seats.

All except Justin who pulls out a chair and looks at Charlotte expectantly. She looks at him perplexed for a moment before realizing he wants her to sit. She blushes, moving to settle into the seat and Justin slides it under her, a perfect gentleman to the last. He settles down beside her and Charlotte finds the men at the table regarding her curiously.

“She does,” Justin responds for her, grabbing his napkin and laying it across his lap. “I’m borrowing her for the week while my assistant is on vacation.”

The force in his voice is unfamiliar to Charlotte. It’s not unfriendly but it holds a finality that shows the subject is closed. The other men seem to sense this as well settling in their seats.

“Ah yes how is Amelia?” John asks and Justin smiles.

“She’s doing well, got her hands full with the wedding,” he responds with a sigh.

The other men chuckle in knowing acknowledgement.

“Heard she’s quite the bridezilla,” John teases and it takes everything Charlotte has to fight the laugh in her throat.

Justin brushes it away. “She just wants everything to be perfect,” he replies airily and Charlotte thinks that this is the understatement of the century

After everything is ordered and the food comes, ensuring that there will be no more interruptions, talk turns to business.

“John I’ve gotta get more funding for Kalaya’s album,” Justin says, his voice slightly earnest.

His forwardness surprises Charlotte. In every other business lunch she’d ever been to, with Amelia or otherwise, the actual business was slipped in between talk of artichoke boulangere and the Jets’ winning streak. The other men seem to be somewhat startled as well, their forks stopping halfway to their mouths, knives pausing partway through their roasted chicken. Charlotte marvels at how John’s happy-go-lucky attitude turns quickly to cool businesslike disapproval.

“It can’t be done Justin,” John says shaking his head, forking a roasted artichoke into his mouth and chewing slowly.

“She just needs more time,” Justin says as if this should be enough of a reason for anyone. When the other men blink back at him he adds, “She’s just now coming into a sound she’s comfortable with.”

“The truth is the money just isn’t there,” Jed says with a sigh. “Grateman’s tour is coming up and, as you well know, funding that is going to take up a lot of your budget.”

“Yes but it will also bring in double the budget,” Justin says and then grins. “I very well know that too.”

John narrows his eyes at Justin’s cheek. “It still doesn’t change the fact that the money isn’t there.”

“Look, I’m meeting with Apple next week to talk about sponsoring Grateman’s tour. I’m almost positive they’re gonna swing the whole thing,” Justin says and the three other men look at him dumbfounded.

“How are you going to manage that?” Chris asks, slightly astonished. “Apple hasn’t sponsored a tour in…ever?” Chris turns to John. “Have they ever?”

“Not that I’ve heard of,” John says eyeing Justin skeptically.

Justin grins. “Their new head of Media and Sponsorship likes me.”

A slow smile pulls across Chris’s face. “Isn’t that Collin Ankerman?”

Justin nods, cutting a piece of his pork chop and forking it into his mouth.

“And isn’t his daughter about twenty-four.”

Justin nods chewing slowly.

“Which would make her about thirteen or fourteen when Nsync came out.”

Justin grins widely.

“He and I have already talked about me performing at her next birthday,” Justin chuckles to himself and Charlotte gazes at him impressed.

“That doesn’t change the fact that Kalaya’s album is already about thirty thousand dollars in the hole,” John snaps, taking a sip of his iced tea and Justin looks up at him bewildered. He’d thought he’d won.

“She just needs more time,” Justin says flippantly. “She’s coming into a great sound.”

“I’m sure what she has already recorded will be wonderful,” John says placatingly as if talking to a child.

“It’s not wonderful,” Justin says and that force is back in his voice, causing the rest of the table to tense. “John you know money. It’s what you’re good at,” he says as if this is the most obvious thing in the world and John sighs, humoring him. “I know music. Its what I’m best at. And I can’t say I don’t understand where you’re coming from…” Justin trails and his nonchalance morphs effortlessly into a determination that is almost over powering and Charlotte is utterly enthralled. “But I also know that if you don’t have good music no one is gonna buy the damn album. You want sales? You want revenue? You have to put out a superior product and what she’s got in the can right now is mediocre at best. She’s coming into something great, John. She just needs more time.”

“How much are we talking?” John asks cautiously and Justin shrugs.

“Fifty grand.”

“No,” John says, laughing. “No that can’t be done.”

“Oh come on!” Justin laughs incredulously. “You spent about that much on your wardrobe.”

John bristles, stuttering slightly.

“Fifty grand, John. That’s all she needs to make something spectacular.” He pauses, setting his eyes on the older man and then adding. “And you’re going to give it to her.”

John’s eyes widen as do the rest of the men at the table. Charlotte is staring at him open mouthed, but snaps it shut as the waitress comes by to refill drinks. The silence at the table is electric and the waitress scurries away quickly from the tension. Justin’s eyes don’t leave the older man’s and his face shows that he knows he’s already won even though Charlotte isn’t sure. It’s hard to believe that this is the same man that sat with her in the car just an hour ago, the same man who lets Amelia trample him to the ground day after day.

John sighs, eyeing him slowly, sizing him up and Justin doesn’t flinch, his face still holding that confidence, that air that he’s already won. This battle is over in his mind.

“Alright,” John says finally and Charlotte releases the breath she hadn’t even realized she’d been holding.

Justin’s smile lights up the room. “You won’t regret it, John,” he says with a sigh.

“I better not,” he grumbles. “And this is the last time!” he adds, trying to regain some sense of control over the situation.

“Of course,” Justin replies airily, tucking back into his food, a small satisfied smile playing across his lips.

And in that moment Charlotte knows he’d not only earned their respect, but hers as well.

After the check is paid, the party meanders their way out into the lobby, chattering idly about golf and the weather as they shrug on their coats. Charlotte follows, talking quietly on her cell phone to their driver, asking him to meet them out front.

“Well Justin, it was a pleasure,” Jed says, patting Justin on the back and Justin smiles.

“That it was,” he nods smiling.

“I was wondering,” Jed says, his eyes turning uncertain and Justin regards him curiously. “My daughter is a huge fan…”

Justin grins. “You want me to sign something?”

Jed breathes a sigh of relief. “If you don’t mind…”

“Not at all,” Justin says and turns to Charlotte. “Charlie do you have a pen and paper I could borrow?”

Charlotte narrows her eyes at him and he grins at her, winking quickly and she cringes.

“Actually,” Jed says and Justin turns to find him pulling a CD and sharpie out if his briefcase, fumbling embarrassed. “If you could just…”

“Even better,” Justin grins, taking the CD and marker from him.

He flips open the CD case, pulling out the album booklet and he remembers when he would sit at a table in a record store and sign these for hours. He remembers how he would come back to his hotel room, exhausted, his hand cramping, his face sore from smiling. He never thought he’d miss that. But he does. He really does.

“What’s her name?” he asks, shaking off the memories, poising the sharpie over the white space just above his name and the name of the album.

His last album. He never thought it would be his last. But it was a good way to go he supposed. Three number one singles. Nine million albums sold world wide. Two Grammys. The second highest grossing tour of 2007. An emmy award winning HBO special. He certainly went out on top. But he just wished he would have known it was the last.

“Lauren,” Jed says smiling and Justin grins, writing a short message and then signing with a flourish.

“Here ya go man,” Justin says slipping the album cover carefully back into the case and handing it to him. “Tell her to stay in school.”

“Oh I will,” Jed grins as they make their way out into the winter chill. “She wants to know when you’re gonna record another album.”

Justin chuckles. “Me too,” he adds joking and the other man laughs.

“You take care,” Jed says, following John and Chris into a sleek black Lincoln and Justin waves as they pull from the curb, disappearing amid the sea of identical cars.

And now it’s just Justin and Charlotte, standing in front of the building and waiting. Charlotte checks her watch. The driver said he’d be there in five minutes. She cranes her neck, shivering as she looks down the street but it’s impossible to tell, the street full of black town cars identical to the one that’s coming for them. Justin bounces on the balls of his feet and sighs. Charlotte tenses.

“I’m sorry, I’ll call the car again,” she says, reaching into her pocket for her phone.

“Nah its fine,” Justin says casually, continuing his light bouncing. Charlotte watches him skeptically. “No sweat…” he adds and then grins, “literally. It’s cold as fuck out here.”

“I’ll call.” Charlotte says flipping open her phone and Justin sighs.

“Seriously its fine,” then he grins knowingly at her. “I’m not gonna rip your head off” They share a smile.

“Okay,” Charlotte concedes finally, placing her phone back in her pocket

“Okay then,” Justin replies nodding, still bouncing idly.

They’re quiet for a moment, each of them looking down the road and waiting. Charlotte sneaks glances at him out of the corner of her eye. She still can’t get over the fact that he did it and so effortlessly it seemed. He was stern and refused to take no for an answer. He didn’t just roll over and take it.

“You did really well in there,” Charlotte finds herself saying.

Justin’s bouncing stops and he turns his head to her slowly. She’s not looking at him, her eyes trained down the road and he’s somewhat shocked by her unprompted praise. Usually he had to fish for compliments and even when he did all he usually got was a “that’s nice, dear” and then was forced to move on to talk of cake flavors and table cards.

Just then the car pulls up and he shakes his head to clear it, grinning slightly.

“Well thank you Charlie,” He says jovially and he watches her cringe and roll her eyes. “See…never should have told me that.”

And with that he opens the car door for her, grinning cheekily at the withered look he receives from her before she slips inside and he follows, escaping the bitter cold and heading back to the office.

“We are never going to that bar again.”

Justin barely has a chance to slip through the front door before Amelia slams it shut, huffing in annoyance as she stomps towards the grand staircase.

“I dunno,” Justin grins, swaggering after her, swinging himself around the banister as he skips up the steps behind her. “I kinda liked it.”

Amelia turns to look at him, regarding him suspiciously before shaking her head and continuing her way up the stairs. Justin follows, undeterred, humming a jovial tune to himself. He’s had a good day. He secured the funding needed for one of his artists to continue recording, made progress with Apple about sponsoring another artist’s tour and has spent the last hour and a half having drinks with the woman he loves in a hip little bar where he may have discovered his next artist. And they served great drinks.There’s no possible way this day could get any better.

But as Amelia sheds her suit jacket, revealing the pink silk chiffon blouse underneath, the back dipping down below her shoulder blades, Justin thinks there’s maybe one thing that could make this day better. He licks his lips, his eyes skimming hazily over the smooth expanse of her back.

“Ugh it was the most awful day.”

He’s jarred slightly by the annoyance in her voice, watching as she trudges forward, stopping short when the spikes of her heels sink into the plush carpet of their bedroom. She growls in frustration, staring up at the ceiling and rattling on about what an idiot her temp assistant is. He slips in behind her, his arms snaking around her waist as she tries to kick off her shoes.

“Leave them on,” he whispers against her ear and she snorts, trying still to hook the heel of her Manolo pumps in the carpet to pry them off. “Amelia,” he says, his voice low and she stops, sighing. “Leave them on.”

“Justin I have been wearing these shoes all day. I knew I shouldn’t have bought them,” Amelia sighs, struggling against him slightly as she tries to pry her foot from the pumps.

“Mmm but they look so good on you,” he murmurs, his lips attaching to her neck just below her ear, his hands skimming down her hips to pull her back against him.

Amelia turns her head looking at him suspiciously. “Are you… you’re drunk!”

Justin grins at her, his nose nuzzling her cheek, chuckling softly. “Yeah maybe a little.”

Amelia scoffs, swatting his hands away as she finally kicks off her shoes and stalks into the bathroom. Justin sighs, trudging over to the bed and falling onto it, his body sinking into the plush down comforter. He misses the days when she was ready for anything, when leaving her heels on was an everyday occurrence. Back when they were first dating, the mere mention of sex had them clawing at each other, barely able to get in the door, doing it right there in the foyer. Now he was lucky if they even had sex at all. But this happens in relationships, there are dry spells and the passion dies down but he loves Amelia. Their relationship isn’t strictly based on sex, although getting it at least once a month would be nice. He shakes his head. She’s busy and so is he and their schedules don’t always mesh but he loves her. He does.

“I knew I shouldn’t have let you drink Jack Daniels,” Amelia sighs, coming out of the bathroom, sitting down at her vanity with a huff.

Justin remembers when a night of Jack Daniels meant bending her over the kitchen counter, pushing her up against the wall in the hallway, lifting her up onto the bathroom sink. Back when she actually drank whiskey with him. Now it was all Manhattans and Cosmos, just one, then maybe a glass of wine if they met one of her celebutaunt friends and were forced to stay longer. Justin watches her as she unpins her hair, the soft golden curls tumbling down over her bare shoulders, her ivory skin glowing against the soft caramel of her silk slip. He licks his lips, toeing off his shoes and then sliding off the bed.

He pads over behind her, his large hands settling on her shoulders as she opens one of the many pots of crème on her vanity. She looks at him through the mirror perplexed and his fingers knead the muscles slowly. He grins, watching her eyes slide shut and a soft growl pulls from the back of her throat, her head lolling to the side as his thumb rubs slow circles over a knot at the base of her neck. He takes the opportunity to lean down and brush the hair from her neck, kissing her skin softly, his lips smudging up the side of her neck.

“What’s gotten into you,” she asks, her voice far away and he smiles against her skin, tongue reaching out to flick against her pulse point.

“I had a great day,” he grins and he feels her body stiffen.

“Well I’m glad you did,” she pouts and he sighs, standing straight again and cursing himself for bringing it up.

But his fingers continue to work on her shoulders, pressing a little harder and she hisses, her body relaxing again. “Tough day darlin’?” he asks softly, shivering at the sound that pulls from her throat when his thumbs press against her shoulder blades.

“God yes,” she sighs and Justin can feel himself heating up and he prays to god she’ll say yes tonight. He can’t even remember the last time… “I need Charlotte.”

Justin’s attention is immediately pulled back to his fiancé who’s pouting slightly. Charlotte. He can’t help but smile, remembering the bewildered look on her face when he’d come in early that morning. He likes Charlotte. He likes the sound she makes when she tries to suppress a laugh and the look on her face when she says something she probably shouldn’t have. She’s helpful and polite, albeit a little high strung.

“How’d she do today?” Amelia asks, shrugging her shoulders and Justin realizes his hands had stopped. He begins to knead her flesh again.

“It was fine,” he says shrugging. Then his brow creases. “She seemed a little jumpy though.”

Amelia eyes him through the mirror and lets out a small “hmm” in thought. Justin shakes his head, trying to turn his thoughts back to the task at hand. He doesn’t want to think about assistants, or work or anything else. He wants her…in bed…now.

“Come on baby,” he whispers softly, his fingers brushing the thin strap of her slip from her shoulder, replacing it with a warm kiss. “Let’s not talk about that stuff now.”

Amelia eyes him through the mirror, rubbing lotion onto her hands as his lips smudge over the roundest part of her shoulder, his hands skimming down her biceps. He kisses his way back to her neck, fingers wrapping in her hair and lifting it up off her neck. He chances a look at her in the mirror and finds her face blank, continuing her nightly ritual of moisturizer and eye cream. Justin is undeterred, his mouth opening against the crook of her shoulder, massaging her scalp slowly. He barely catches the flutter of her eyelids and she sighs.

“Justin,” she whines and wiggles slightly, causing his lips to detach from her neck and his fingers to unwrap from her hair, watching it tumble down over her shoulders again.

He sighs, looking down at her as she reaches for her hairbrush and runs it through her hair, the strands shining like spun gold in the low lighting. He remembers when all he would have to do is touch her, drag his finger along her collarbone and she would pounce him, crawl into his lap, drag him closer by his tie, something.

He sighs again, loosening his tie and discarding his jacket, balling it up and tossing it into the closet. He might as well undress himself. Memories of tearing each other’s clothes off fill his mind and he has to swallow hard, fighting the familiar pull in his groin His fingers work loose the buttons of his vest, shrugging it off and balling it up, sending it flying into the closet next to his jacket His eyes flit to her, relishing in the fact that she hates when he doesn’t put his clothes in the hamper. But she’s not even watching him, her eyes focused on her face in the mirror, running her ring finger along her eyebrows before reaching for her tweezers. He sighs.

“I’m going to take a shower,” he says as he undoes his tie, thinking briefly about taking care of this himself then immediately pushing the idea aside. He’s nearly thirty, not thirteen.

“I thought you wanted to have sex,” Amelia says offhandedly, leaning close to the mirror and grabbing a stray hair with her tweezers and pulling.

Justin stops, his fingers halfway through the buttons on his shirt, staring back at her bewildered. She puts her tweezers away and reaches for her lip balm, her eyes meeting his in the mirror.

“Um…what?” he asks, wondering if his sex starved brain was fantasizing without him.

“Well that is what you were all over me for right?” Amelia asks, dipping her middle finger in the small tin and rubbing the balm over her lips slowly.

Justin watches her, his mouth slightly open and he snaps it shut when she smacks her lips, pursing them in the mirror and he shivers hard. She stands, smiling coyly at him and he grins at her as she brushes past him, reaching for the heavy comforter and pulling it back. Playing hard to get. That is definitely his girl. She looks over her shoulder at him expectantly.

“Well?” she asks, looking him up and down and he scrambles to rid himself of the rest of his clothes, his fingers fumbling over the last few buttons on his shirt.

Amelia turns her back to the bed, hopping up so she’s sitting on the edge watching as he tosses his shirt aside and then reaches for the hem of his undershirt. She smiles, crooking her finger at him and he grins widely, stepping up to her as he tosses his undershirt behind him.

He hums softly when she flattens her palms against his chest, her long nails dragging down, fingers skittering over the bumps and grooves of his abdomen. He dips his head, his lips finding hers and she tastes like mint and her lips are slick and waxy from her lip balm. He shivers as her fingers find his belt buckle, fumbling to undo it and after a few seconds she pulls back.

“What kind of belt is this?” she asks and he looks down his body, watching Amelia pry at the buckle.

He chuckles, flicking the catch on the side and the buckle opens revealing the notches beneath, the small metal piece slipped through the first hole. Amelia scoffs, tugging his belt undone and he grins at her, kissing her again, his lips smudging across her cheek and down her neck.

“Where did you get this thing anyway?” she asks tilting her head to the side to examine the buckle as Justin nibbles at the side of her neck.

“I dunno,” he replies absently, his hands smoothing down her biceps and then up again, reaching for the straps of her slip.

“Is it new?” she asks, still fiddling with it and Justin sighs.

“Amelia,” he whines and her eyes fall on his face, finding him looking at her slightly annoyed.

She chuckles to herself, smiling sheepishly and biting her bottom lip. He grins. There’s his girl. She brings her arms up, wrapping them around his neck and he sighs into her mouth as she parts her legs, allowing him to stand between them, his stomach burning in anticipation. Her hands skim down his sides, thumbs reaching to smudge under his belly button as she flicks his pants open. He sighs as she pushes them down and he kicks them impatiently from his legs, hissing as she runs a finger down the crotch of his boxers.

She pushes at his shoulders, sliding off the bed and he licks his lips, watching as the hem of her slip rises and the creamy expanse of her thighs is exposed briefly before the fabric falls back into place. She raises her arms over her head and he grins, reaching for the hem and tugging her slip up and off. His breathing becomes shallow when her breasts are revealed to him and she’s naked aside from her simple beige panties.

He kisses her hard, stealing her breath as he lifts her onto the bed, his fingers curling against her ribs, savoring the feel of her skin against his. He’s anxious, crawling over her quickly and she wiggles beneath him, trying to get comfortable. He stills over her, forcing himself to wait until she’s settled before kissing her again and he hisses as her nails drag down his chest, reaching for the waistband of his boxers. His stomach trembles as she slips her thumbs in and pushes them down, aching for her to touch him. Her hand brushes his lower stomach, causing him to shiver and hold his breath but he lets it out in a rush when she rests her hands against his waist, waiting while he kicks his underwear from his legs. His hands curl around her shoulders as he rests over her on his elbows, settling between her legs, his heart thundering in his chest. She’s still wriggling beneath him and as she brings her knee up she catches him under the ribs, his breath pulling from his lungs with a quiet “oomph.” She winces, placing a hand on his shoulder and he shakes his head, pressing his lips to hers quickly.

Amelia sighs into his mouth as he lets one large hand drag down her chest, stopping to squeeze her breast gently, the globe firm but still slightly malleable. He still can’t get used to them this way. They look the same really, just bigger. In fact if he hadn’t seen them before she had the surgery he’d never be able to tell. Well, maybe he’d be able to tell because they aren’t quite as yielding as-

“Justin,” Amelia says softly and he realizes he’s been squeezing her breast methodically as his mind wandered. She narrows her eyes at him and he ducks his head, flicking his tongue out against her nipple and her back arches, her fingernails scratching at his scalp.

He breathes a sigh of relief, his hand reaching between her legs, fingers brushing her panties teasingly. He nibbles at the valley between her breasts as his fingers press against her, wanting to feel her through the fabric and is slightly disappointed when he doesn’t. He remembers the days when she used to be ready for him in an instant… but they’re older now, they’ve been together for a while. He smirks against her skin. It’s not like he doesn’t know how to rev her up.

His lips drag down her stomach as his thumbs hook in her panties, tugging them down her legs and then flinging them off into the room somewhere. His tongue is dipping into her belly button when her nails dig into his shoulder.

“Come on, lets do this,” she says and he looks up at her perplexed.

“I thought you liked when I-”

“I do,” she says her hand wrapping around the back of his neck. “Just not tonight.”

He winces. “Just not tonight” is something he’s been hearing a lot of lately. He shakes the thought away.

“But you’re not-”

“I am,” she says, her voice ringing in annoyance and she sighs, forcing a smile at him. “Besides the condoms are lubricated.”

Justin sighs, nodding. The condoms. Of course.

He slides up her body, his dick pressing into her belly and he pants at the feeling of her skin against his, wiggling his hips slightly. He gasps when she shifts higher on the bed and he slides down between her legs, pressing against her intimately. He moans softly, his face burying in her neck. It’s been so long since he felt her like this, skin on skin, and his heart feels as if it could beat out of his chest as his hands begin to slip under her shoulders, readying himself to press in.

“Justin,” she says softly, patting his shoulder and he pulls his face from her neck to see her holding the condom she’d plucked from the drawer in the bedside table.

He sighs in frustration and it takes all his willpower to sit back on his knees and take the condom from her, ripping it open and tossing the wrapper aside. They’d been using condoms again ever since one of her friends had gotten pregnant even though she was on the pill. Something about having the flu and throwing up so the pill didn’t work. Although Justin wondered what she was doing having sex when she had the flu anyway…

“Are these still good?” Amelia asks, shifting up again and reaching into the drawer for the box of condoms, examining it for the expiration date.

“They’re fine,” Justin replies quickly, pinching the tip and then rolling the sheath down his shaft before falling back over her.

She huffs, the breath leaving her lungs. “Easy,” she scolds gently, wiggling beneath him again but she stills as his lips capture hers, her arms snaking slowly around his neck.

He smiles against her lips as he reaches between them to rub himself against her, shivering as a dull wave of pleasure ripples through him. She hums, allowing her legs to splay on either side of his hips, her arms draping over his shoulders. He presses his forehead to hers as he eases in, shushing her softly when she winces at the intrusion. He cups her face gently, pressing his cheek to hers as he breathes and presses forward, shivering as her arms come around to hold him at his back, her knees hugging his hips.

He presses all the way in and she struggles underneath him, a discomfited sound pulling from her throat and he eases back slightly, kissing along her shoulder softly in apology. She wiggles again and the friction steals his breath, causing him to moan softly into her hair. He shifts slightly as her hands curl between then, clasping his shoulders and pushing gently, urging him up onto his hands and he complies, lifting his body weight from her. She wiggles again, settling back against the sheets and smiles at him as she nods, giving him permission to move.

He draws back slowly, watching her face for any sign of discomfort before easing back in and when her cheek twitches slightly he retreats, setting a slow, languid rhythm that has his body screaming for more. He misses the days when she’d let him bend her over, one of the only positions that didn’t cause her some sort of discomfort, and she would moan with every thrust, pushing her body back into his. He gasps slightly as the pleasure rolls through him and he forgets and pushes all the way in, causing her to gasp and press against his shoulders in warning.

Justin presses his mouth to hers and he shivers when she moans against him, easing in and out slowly. She wrenches her mouth from his, letting her head fall to the side panting and when she arches her back they both moan, her ankles hooking around his calves and he knows they’ve found their rhythm.

Amelia’s palms smooth over his shoulders before hooking her arms under his and pulling him closer, humming softly as her lips press against his collarbone. He pants, allowing his body to settle over her more, easing some of his weight off his arms, which are beginning to ache from the strain. He struggles against her, concentrating on the way she feels, the dull warmth of her body seeping in through the latex and he moans, his hips speeding up.

His lips find hers again, his back aching slightly as his hips work against hers, the pleasure beginning to saturate his brain and his hips start to twitch of their own accord. Her breathing hitches, a tiny whimper escaping past her lips and her fingertips press into his back in warning. He pulls back swiftly, growling when he slips out and Amelia sighs, wiggling under him again as he reaches between them to slide back in.

He groans deep from his chest, his body straining over hers, the pleasure coursing through him, a little part of his mind still conscious of her, careful not to push too hard or reach too deep. Amelia’s breathing has gone shallow, her knees hugging his hips tightly, her palms pressing hard against his back. He knows she’s close as he pulls back and finds her eyes closed, her mouth open just slightly and he presses a soft kiss to her lips, one hand reaching down between them to nestle his fingers in her folds.

She gasps, nails digging into his back as she clenches around him, the tiniest of sounds pulling from her throat and she sighs, her body relaxing against the pillows, legs splaying on either side of him. He pants, remembering back to when she would scream his name so fucking loud he was sure someone was going to call the cops.

He gasps then, the pleasure bubbling over and he whispers her name into her hair, his body taking over and his hips twitch hard against hers. He chokes on his own breath as wave after wave of pleasure rinses over him, rumbling through his groin in short bursts.

As he comes down he feels Amelia’s hands on his shoulders, pushing gently and that’s when he realizes that his hips are flush against hers, her face screwed up in discomfort. He kisses her quickly, pulling back just slightly but staying inside, wanting to be close to her still.

“Its okay,” she whispers, patting his shoulders softly. “You can pull out.”

He sighs, reaching between them to hold the condom at the base as he pulls out, rolling off her to sit on the side of the bed as he pulls it off, and standing to go into the bathroom to throw it away. He drops it in the wastebasket, sighing at his reflection in the large mirror. His skin is clean, free of bite marks or hickeys, and he shakes his head at himself when he feels a pang of disappointment. He washes his hands quickly, drying them with one of Amelia’s decorative towels on accident and cringes, trying to set it back on the rack exactly the way it was. He takes one last look in the mirror, brushing his fingers against the hair at his temples where it’s just starting to curl. He sighs.

As he pads back into the bedroom Amelia is sitting up in bed reading, her slip already back on and Justin purses his lips in disappointment, walking around to his side of the bed and crawling in, the sheets cool against his still heated flesh.

“You’re not going to wear your pajamas?” Amelia asks, not even glancing up from her book as he scoots across the mammoth expanse of their bed to lie close to her.

“Nah,” he shrugs, his arms snaking across her stomach, resting his cheek against her bicep.

She sighs shaking her head as she struggles to wrap her arm around his shoulders and he grins scooting closer, pressing his cheek to her breast and sighing. Her hand comes up to run through his hair and his eyes close when her nails scrape his scalp gently.

“You need to cut your hair,” she sighs, tugging on the short strands and he whines, pushing his head against her chest to get her to stop.

“I will,” he yawns, pulling his body closer to hers.

“You’ll have Charlotte make you an appointment?” Amelia asks, her fingers massaging against his scalp and he hums. “Hmm?”

“Yes,” he yawns lazily, his body relaxing against hers, his brain fuzzy with exhaustion, the three Jack and Cokes from earlier settling in his limbs, making them heavy

“Good,” Amelia says pleasantly, her hand moving to rest on his shoulder.

He sighs, rubbing his cheek against her chest, not quite as soft as it used to be but he’s not complaining. He remembers when they would fall asleep against each other, a tangle of limbs in sweat soaked sheets. But that was then he supposed. They’re older now. They’ve been together a long time. And sex isn’t everything. He loves her. He really does.

The first thing Charlotte hears when she walks through the door of Amelia and Justin’s penthouse in the morning is deep throaty laughter. It wafts through the foyer and bounces off the walls and marble floors, brightening the already sunny foyer. She smiles as she hangs her coat on the rack next to the door, her ballet flats making a soft padding sound on the marble floor, wondering if she should wait or call out and announce her presence. A high girlish laugh joins the other and then the deep voice stops, a murmur of a male voice, questioning. Then the words boom into clarity.

“Charlie is that you?” Justin’s voice calls. She opens her mouth to respond but he continues. “If not and you’re a burglar, I’m about six foot five and can bench two-hundred fifty pounds and will kick your ass so turn and run now.”

“Justin!” Amelia exclaims with a giggle. “Don’t curse.”

Charlotte giggles, going around the right side of the staircase, following the long hallway towards the source of the voices. She is nearly blinded as she steps into the gleaming white kitchen, the morning sun making the already bright and airy room seem almost as if it were a light source in itself. Justin sits in one of the small wrought iron barstools, his lanky frame folded awkwardly into the delicate seat. His light gray suit jacket hangs on the back of the chair, his shirt sleeves rolled to his elbows as he shovels cereal into his mouth. Amelia stands out starkly in charcoal grey, her alabaster skin glowing and radiant, hair perfectly coiffed in an elegant French twist, her hand resting lightly on her fiancé’s shoulder.

“Good morning Charlotte,” Amelia says, smiling softly and Charlotte smiles back, moving to stand across the island from them.

“Morning Charlie!” Justin exclaims jovially and Charlotte smiles tensely, shifting on her feet.

They seem to be in ridiculously good moods this morning, Charlotte wonders what could have brought this on, watching Justin lean into Amelia, whispering something under his breath that Charlotte can’t quite hear. Amelia gasps, slapping his shoulder lightly and giggling, a sound Charlotte never thought could come from her.

“Stop that you,” she scolds lightly, grabbing for her bag that’s sitting on the kitchen island. “I’m going to be late for work and you’re going to be late for your fitting.” Justin makes a derisive sound in his throat and Amelia frowns. “You’ve been putting it off for weeks.”

“I know,” Justin grumbles, poking his cereal with his spoon. “I hate fittings.”

“Oh come on they aren’t that bad,” Amelia sighs, shoving papers in her bag and checking its contents.

“Oh really?” Justin asks, raising an eyebrow and turning slightly in his chair. “Tell me, would you like standing in the middle of a room in your underwear while some weird guy runs his hands up your legs.”

“Oh don’t be silly I let you do that all the time,” Amelia responds and then smirks, Justin narrows his eyes at her scowling playfully.

Charlotte’s eyes widen as she shifts uncomfortably. Innuendo is definitely something she never thought she’d hear from Amelia. It almost sounds foreign from her and then Charlotte realizes that she has once again forgotten that Amelia is not just her boss but an actual living breathing human being. A living breathing human being who has a very attractive fiancé. What? Charlotte’s eyes widen at the thought and two and two come crashing into four as it dawns on her. The giggles. The touching. The innuendo. She blushes, suddenly embarrassed at the thought, but more than embarrassed she’s intrigued. For some reason its hard to picture Amelia like that, as someone who has sex. Which is utterly ridiculous because anyone who’s with someone who looks like Justin is having sex. Okay she needs to get off this train of thought.

“Okay I’m gone,” Amelia says with a sigh, leaning to kiss Justin’s cheek softly and his eyes sink closed, a smile tugging the corners of his mouth upward. “Your fitting is at 8:30,” she pats his shoulder. He nods wearily as she turns to leave.

“Have fun,” Justin responds, reaching down to goose her as she shoulders her bag and she jumps, a soft squeal dying in her throat.

She smacks his arm again then pauses as if debating. She sighs. “Please don’t be late for your fitting.” She glances at Charlotte as she says this and Charlotte nods.

“I won’t. I won’t.” Justin grumbles, scooping more cereal in his mouth, milk dripping down his chin.

“Ugh Justin use a napkin,” Amelia scolds softly, handing him one from the stack in the porcelain holder in front of him. “What is that anyway? Frosted Flakes?”

Justin nods, taking the napkin from her and wiping his face before wadding it up and dropping it next to him on the counter, shoveling more food into his mouth. Amelia looks at him and his cereal disapprovingly before sighing.

“Okay Charlotte you’re in charge,” Amelia says airily and Justin looks up and narrows his eyes before sighing, seemingly letting it go and returning to his cereal. “Bye.”

“Bye,” Charlotte replies weakly and Justin merely waves as Amelia breezes easily out of the kitchen.

There’s an awkward silence left in her wake, Charlotte standing across the kitchen island from Justin, watching him finish his cereal. She just has to get through this week. She startles slightly at the thought. Justin isn’t a bad person to work for. He’s a nice break from Amelia actually. It’s just all those pesky undertones and the paranoia. Most of which, she’s almost positive, is all in her head. She watches as he heaves a sigh, chewing slowly as he gazes out the window thoughtfully.

Central Park sprawls out below, the brown and gray branches of trees making the normally vibrant park seem muddy and dull. Spots of white and gray dot the landscape on corners where snow has been piled and is melting to slush in the unusual warmness of the day. But even though the grass is mostly dead and the trees are bare, this little bit of nature looks like heaven amidst the concrete jungle as the first real sunlight in weeks shines dazzlingly on it.

“Nice day,” Justin says, resting his chin on his hand as he stares out the window, the morning sun dappling brightly through the window.

“Yep,” Charlotte says, eyeing his still half full cereal bowl and then her watch.

“Today would be a good day for golf,” he says off handedly, a goofy grin spreading across his face at the thought.

“I guess,” Charlotte responds. “You almost done? You’re gonna be late for your fitting.”

“How warm is it?” Justin asks as if he didn’t hear her at all and she blinks at him.

“I dunno… maybe forty…forty-five,” Charlotte says shrugging, shouldering her bag and hoping he gets the hint.

“Oh,” he says his face falling slightly as he ducks his head to spoon more cereal into his mouth. “Well let’s go I guess,” he sighs, standing so he can drop his half finished bowl into the sink.

“You sure? You can finish your breakfast,” Charlotte says, feeling a little bad for rushing him.

He shakes his head. “Nah, its fine. Let’s go get me molested,” he sighs, rolling his eyes.

Charlotte giggles despite herself, her hand a little late in coming up to suppress it. Justin looks at her slightly shocked and Charlotte looks away, her cheeks pinkening. She was still going for an unaffected air. Just because she was now relatively sure that he wasn’t trying to sleep with her didn’t mean she was going to be anything less than professional. Justin grins.

“Why Charlie…did you…did you just laugh?” Justin chuckles and she narrows her eyes at him, trying to force her lips into a frown but she can’t seem to keep the corners of her mouth from turning upward.

“No…no it was a cough,” she says clearing her throat and looking away, feigning disinterest. Banter can be professional right?

Justin beams at her for a second before situating his face into a look of mock seriousness. “Good…very good. I think you should definitely continue with the not laughing. It really accentuates the stick you have up your ass.”

He smirks as her jaw drops, watching as he snatches his jacket from the back of his chair and turns to traipse out of the kitchen, chuckling softly to himself. Charlotte snaps her mouth shut, scurrying after him, excitement curling in her stomach at the prospect of a sparring partner. The one thing she really missed from her old job was the sharp wit of her cube mates, the playful barbs slung back and forth over the little plastic walls separating their desks were the only thing to cure the terminal boredom.

He’s pulling on his heavy coat, grinning smugly to himself as he adjusts the collar. Charlotte sidles up next to him, reaching for her own coat.

“Did it ever occur to you that maybe you’re just not funny?” she asks and as Justin looks at her the grin falls right off his face.

Charlotte smiles up at him but it fades quickly when she sees that he’s not smiling anymore. Her breathing hitches and panic settles in her gut. She sputters, searching for something to say. Was he angry? Surely with all the jokes he makes he can’t be angry. Had she hurt his feelings? She thought that it would take more than a little poke at his pride to hurt his feelings. After all he was engaged to Amelia. Oh god…was he going to tell Amelia?

He stares at her for a moment, blinking and then he shakes his head chuckling to himself. He takes her coat from her, which she had been clutching in a death grip and smiles widely at her holding it open. She looks at him uncertainly and he gives it a little shake, motioning her into it. She turns, threading her arms through the holes and shivering as he pulls the coat up over her shoulders. She jumps as he leans forward to speak softly in her ear.

“Nah I’m hilarious,” he says and then walks around her so that he’s facing her, an amused look on his face. “You just have no sense of humor.”

He turns toward the door opening it and he grins back at her, a challenge in his eyes. Let’s see how this goes, his eyes say and she swallows hard. Should she be taking this here? Is this considered flirting? She shakes her head and smiles, shoving the thought away. She can’t go through another day like yesterday, worrying about his motives and her signals and emotional undercurrents. She had spent the entire day on the verge of hyperventilation and she couldn’t spend the rest of the week like that. So she’ll take this as it comes. She’ll be herself…whatever that means.

The ride down the elevator was full of snide comments murmured out the side of their mouths, both testing how far the other could be pushed. Charlotte didn’t back down, taking Justin’s snark and adding a heavy dollop of her own. By the time they had reached the lobby they were nearly bursting from repressed laughter, Justin grinning so hard it almost hurt his face. But the playful mood is snuffed when they step outside, and Justin is so shocked by the warmth of the day he stops speaking. He takes a deep breath, the air not freezing his lungs like it had every day for the past few months and looks around the sunny street in a daze.

“Holy hell,” he mutters and Charlotte glances around, finding the town car a little ways down the curb. “Wait…wait,” Justin says when she starts walking towards it. “You lied to me.”

Charlotte looks at him bewildered. “What?”

“You said it was forty degrees, it’s gotta be almost sixty out here,” Justin says looking around, “God, today would be such a great day for golf.”

“Yep,” Charlotte says nodding and motioning towards the town car. “Come on you’re gonna be late for your fitting.”

Justin doesn’t move, standing in the middle of the street and looking around, his blue eyes squinting under the harsh glare of the morning sun. It’s almost a little warm for his heavy coat, the bright rays from the sun warming his skin in a way that hadn’t happened in months.

“Justin?” Charlotte questions, looking at him uncertainly. “We’ve got ten minutes to get across town.”

“Do me a favor,” Justin says and turns back towards the doors to the lobby, spotting the doorman and grinning. “Call them and cancel.”

Charlotte stares at him slack jawed. “Wha…you…I…” she stutters.

“Hey Ben!” Justin hollers and the man standing next to the door turns to him and smiles. “Hey man can you ring up and tell them to get my golf clubs from upstairs.”

“But…you…you have…” Charlotte stutters as he breezes past her towards the town car now nestled up to the curb.

“Hey Tony!” he hollers and bends down to stick his head through the now open passenger side window to speak with the driver.

Charlotte is dazed standing in the middle of the street as people brush past her silently. She digs frantically in her bag for his portfolio, hoping for some sort of guidance. It’s a foolish thought, for all the leather binder holds are his plans, which he seems to be hell bent on breaking. She looks up and both he and the car are gone. She gasps, looking from side to side, panic seizing her. She catches a glimpse of his curly head just as the hotel doors close on him and she fights her way through the morning crowd trying to follow.

The elevator doors are closing on him as she muscles her way inside, rushing a little less than casually through the large lobby, tapping her foot impatiently as she waits for the elevator to descend. On the ride back up to the penthouse she tries to formulate a plan. He can’t just blow off his schedule. He has meetings to go to and phone calls to make and emails to respond to. He has to be fitted for a tuxedo for his wedding for godsake!

“Justin?” she calls out weakly as she pushes the heavy oak door open, her voice echoing slightly against the marble in the foyer. All is quiet except for a vacuum running somewhere in the depths of the house. She could go look for him? But god there was no telling where to begin in a place like this.

Just then Justin appears to the left side of the staircase, adjusting the collar of his midnight blue polo at his neck. He’s shoving the hem in the waist of his khakis when he sees her standing there, caught like a deer in the headlights, no clue as of what to do.

“I told you to go ahead and wait downstairs,” he says situating the buckle of his belt and then raising his arms over his head to situate his shirt comfortably on his thin frame. “I was just changing. Can’t play golf in a suit.” He grins.

“Um…Justin?” Charlotte says delicately, fingers clutching the portfolio tightly. “You…you really need to stick to your schedule.”

“I don’t have a lot going on today. A couple meetings but you can just reschedule those,” he says, shrugging as he drops to one knee to tie his sneaker.

“But…but your tuxedo. You have the fitting,” Charlotte says and looks at her watch grimacing. “Which you’re now late for.”

“I told you to cancel that,” he says, frowning at the scuff on the toe of his shoe, rubbing it furiously with his thumb.

“Justin…” Charlotte sighs, shifting uncomfortably.

“I can do it tomorrow,” he says shrugging as he stands up again and Charlotte bites her lip, choosing her next words carefully.

“Um…A-Amelia seemed really…um…it seemed like it was really important to her that you do this…and…if you didn’t go…today... er…I think she would be really…um…”

“Pissed?” Justin supplies for her and Charlotte smiles tightly at him nodding. He nods sighing. “Don’t worry about that,” he grins stepping closer to her. “What Amelia doesn’t know won’t hurt us.”

He grins widely and Charlotte takes an immediate step backwards, panic trembling in her stomach. What the hell was that supposed to mean? As if sensing her unease he steps back as well, the smile sliding from his face into a look of perplexed uncertainty. She refuses to meet his eyes and it’s then that he decides that maybe he’s putting her in a bad position. She works for Amelia and asking her to keep his secrets wasn’t her job. He sighs looking around, rubbing a hand across the back of his neck.

“Okay what about this,” he says and Charlotte looks up at him her green eyes meeting his and he smiles despite himself. “what about we compromise?”

“Compromise?” Charlotte asks uneasily.

He nods. “I’ll go to the driving range instead of playing eighteen holes and we’ll be back in the office by ten,” he says and then frowns adding. “thirty. Ten-thirty.”

“What about your fitting?” she asks, chewing her bottom lip uncertainly and Justin sighs.

“Clear my entire schedule tomorrow and I will spend the entire day looking at tuxes,” he says rolling his eyes.

Charlotte looks at him uncertainly. “And you’ll tell Amelia?”

Justin nods, grinning widely. “I’ll tell Amelia.”

“Well…I guess that’s okay-”

“Of course it’s okay!” Justin grins, brushing past her to snatch his lightweight thermal jacket from the rack. “Now come on we’re wasting valuable tee time.”

“Um maybe I should just head to the office,” Charlotte says, thinking about all the rescheduling she would have to do.

“You can’t be stuck in an office on a day like this!” Justin exclaims and then opens the door, adding with a smirk, “And besides I need you to carry my clubs.”

Charlotte blinks at him before stepping out the door. “Well…okay…I guess I could do-”

“Charlotte,” he cuts her off laughing and she turns to look at him. “I’m not going to make you carry my clubs.” He shakes his head. “You were doing so well.”

She narrows her eyes. “It’s not my fault you’re not funny,” she deadpans stepping into the elevator and he grins.

“You have no idea what you’re talking about. I’m hilarious.”

The banter continues down the elevator and in the car, where Charlotte is so caught up in the intricate weaving of words she barely notices that they were leaving the city, tall skyscrapers giving way to thick trees along six lane express ways. After one particularly scathing remark that left Justin slightly speechless and scowling, Charlotte looks out the window smirking to herself and gasps when she sees nothing but trees and a long stretch of road in front of and behind them.

“What…where are we?” she asks and Justin glances out the window at a passing sign.

“Almost to Plainview. We’re nearly there,” he says shifting excitedly in his seat.

Charlotte’s eyes nearly explode out of her skull. “How long have we been driving?” She asks slightly alarmed, looking down at her watch. “IT’S NEARLY NINE-THIRTY!!!”

“Yeah…about that,” Justin says chuckling to himself. “I think we aren’t gonna be back to the office in time for that ten-thirty deadline. Better say we’ll be gone through lunch just to be safe.” He nods affirmatively.

“You…I…you lied to me.” Charlotte exclaims, scowling at him and he grins.

“Turn about is fair play,” he grins smarmily and Charlotte glares at him.

“Yeah because giving an accurate weather forecast is what I’m known for,” she replies, her voice dripping with sarcasm and he grins. “Who do I look like Al Roker?”

Justin squints at her. “You know come to mention it…”

She doesn’t speak to him for the rest of the ride, not really because she’s angry but more so because she’s nervous. Deviating from the schedule for a few hours was one thing. But taking the entire morning off to drive out to freaking Long Island to hit a few golf balls was utterly ridiculous. She could only imagine what Amelia would think…

What Amelia doesn’t know won’t hurt us.

His words echo in her head and she cringes. What Justin doesn’t seem to understand is Amelia always knows everything.

After a few twisting and turning lanes they find themselves driving towards a large brick building at the end of a cul de sac. As they pull around Charlotte sees men in polos and slacks shouldering golf clubs, a few walking in the socks with their cleats in their hands. Justin is out of the car before she can blink and she finds herself scrambling after him, barely catching him thanking Tony as he shoulders his clubs and looks around before heading towards the clubhouse. She nearly runs smack into him when he stops abruptly, setting his bag down outside the door before going inside.

Charlotte follows, looking around at the golfers that are coming and going. There’s a sign on the door that says the wearing of cleats inside is strictly prohibited. Most men are in their socks.

“You and the lady, sir?” Charlotte hears the man at the counter ask.

“yeah that’s fine,” Justin says, reaching into his back pocket and pulling out an old leather wallet that looks like its been run over several times with a tractor.

“Oh I’m not playing,” Charlotte says, stepping closer to him and Justin waves flippantly, handing the man behind the counter his money and getting his change.

“Driving range is down the sidewalk. Follow the arrows for the Black Course and you’ll run into it,” the clerk says, handing him two large buckets of golf balls and Justin nods, thanking him as he turns to go back outside.

Charlotte hurries after him watching him set the buckets down and shoulder his clubs easily again before bending his knees to grab both buckets. Charlotte reaches to take one but he shakes his head at her and looks around before heading east, gazing out across one of the courses that sprawls for miles before them. He sighs.

“Do you play golf?” he asks and Charlotte shakes her head. “Ever played before?”

“Not really,” she says then pauses, debating before adding. “I putt-putted when I was little.”

Justin smiles. “Miniature golf is very different.” He chuckles at his own joke and Charlotte smiles uncertainly.

They fall silent again, walking the sidewalk steadily, the relative quiet of the area making their silence somewhat awkward and Charlotte scrambles to fill the gap.

“Have you played here before?” she asks in what she hopes is a genial way, watching the bars of the black wrought iron fence separating them from the course pass by one after the other.

“Yeah,” Justin says nodding and doesn’t elaborate, just looks out onto the fairway they’re passing, watching a group of men try to drive their balls closer to the green

“Okay,” Charlotte replies awkwardly as they come to a sign bolted to the fence.

“WARNING” it reads. “The black course is an extremely difficult course which we only recommend for highly skilled golfers.”

“Did you play the Black Course?” she asks, raising an eyebrow as she turns back to read the last of the sign as they move on.

“Yeah…” he says, hiking his bag higher on his shoulder and then grinning at her. “I should have listened to the sign.”

When they finally reach the driving range Charlotte’s feet are aching slightly. Ballet flats were not made to be hiked in but she feels sheepish as Justin sidles up to an open bay, setting his buckets and bag down, stretching languidly as he looks out over the range. They seem to have the place to themselves aside from the one man on the very opposite end of the range. He glances at them and Justin raises a hand in acknowledgement, receiving a wave in return before going about his business.

Charlotte looks around and finds a bench to sit on a little ways back from the bays. She eyes the two large buckets, wondering just how many golf balls were in there and how long it would take him to get through them. She still couldn’t believe she was here, in Long Island, watching him tug his cleats and glove from the large pocket in his golf bag.

He walks over, shoving his glove in his back pocket, and flops down next to her, reaching down to pull off his sneakers, setting them gingerly next to him on the bench and she’s never seen a pair of tennis shoes so white in her life. He tugs on his cleats, tying the laces and adjusting the hem of his khakis over his socks before standing and looking down at them, wiggling his legs a little, picking his feet up and down and bouncing slightly. He nods as if this is all satisfactory and pads back to his golf bag, making a soft humming sound as he makes his selection. He pulls out a large driver, brushing his fingers against the head before hooking his foot against the edge of one of the buckets, knocking it over and sending balls rolling everywhere. This doesn’t seem to bother him much as he wrangles one closer with the head of his club, pushing it so it balances on the plastic tee.

Charlotte watches him as he looks out over the wide expanse of grass, large signs marking one hundred yards, one-fifty, two hundred, all they way up to four-fifty where the lake was winking back at them in the bright morning sun. He tugs on his golf glove, wiggling his fingers before gripping his club, concentrating on the ball. He bends his knees, wiggling a little as he eyes the horizon, giving a few small short swings, getting used to the club in his hands. Finally he swings back, his body twisting elegantly and with a soft whoosh he brings it down quickly, a loud TWHACK sounding as he makes contact and the little white ball goes sailing through the air, bouncing down around the two hundred yard line before coming to a stop.

He scoffs, bringing the club back behind his shoulder blades, curling his arms around it and stretching his back, turning this way and that by the waist. He sighs bringing the club back down again, retrieving another ball and beginning the process again. Charlotte sighs, really wishing she’d brought a book or something.

“So…” Justin says, drawing out the word as he prepares to take his shot. “Charlie…” He brings the club back and down quickly, sending another ball flying out onto the grass. “How old are you?”

Charlotte blinks at him, slightly confused. He’s not looking at her, watching as his ball rolls to a stop around the two-fifty sign and then scrunches his nose, shaking his head as he goes to get another ball. His eyes meet hers then, questioning, waiting.

“Um…twenty-four.”

He nods rolling his ball onto the tee. “When’s your birthday?”

She blinks again, cautious now. What’s he after? “September 28th.”

“So that makes you a Libra huh?” He wiggles and then rears back, sending the ball flying. THWACK!

Charlotte’s brows furrow in shock. “Yeah…how’d you-”

“Astrological signs interest me,” he shrugs, wrangling another ball onto the tee. “I bet you’re a great listener and love to help people.” THWACK!

Charlotte looks at him slightly astonished. “Um…yeah.”

They’re quiet for a moment as he lines up his next shot, Charlotte chewing her bottom lip nervously. She wondered what else he could tell about her from her astrological sign. She tried to think about what the traits were of a Libra. Okay, now she was being ridiculous. She shook her head and barely caught the end of what he was saying over the loud THWACK of him hitting another golf ball.

“I’m sorry what?” she asks, leaning forward and holding onto the edge of the bench for balance.

“I said that Amelia told me you were from Pennsylvania?” he says, a questioning lilt tacked on the end and Charlotte nods. “Where in Pennsylvania?” he asks reaching for another ball.

“Cannonsburg,” she says, watching another ball fly out over the grass.

“Were you born there?” THWACK!

Charlotte nods, still wondering where this was all going. “Born and raised.”

“Are your parents still there?” THWACK!

Charlotte shifts on the bench. “Yes.”

“Are they married?” THWACK!

“Yeah,” Charlotte says and smiles at the image of them in her minds eye, sitting together on the front porch, her father’s arm around her mother’s shoulders. “For a little over thirty years now.

Justin turns to look at her, stopping mid swing. “Wow that’s impressive.” Charlotte nods smiling. He turns back to his ball, preparing to start his swing again. “Any siblings?” THWACK!

Charlotte nods again. “Two older brothers.”

Justin looks back at her, eyeing her. “How much older?”

She screws up her face in thought, looking up at the metal awning over head. “Paul is twenty-eight and Isaac is…thirty? Yeah thirty.”

Justin smiles, wiggling a little as he prepares to swing again. “And where are they?” THWACK!

“Oh back home still,” she says, waving a hand dismissively and she suddenly feels strange. Why is he asking her all this?

“So where’d you go to college?” Justin asks, rolling another ball in front of him and lining up.

“NYU,” Charlotte replies, a little uncertain now. Why did he want to know these things?

“Why?” THWACK!

“Why what?” she asks, caught up in her own thought process as she wracks her brain for his motive.

“Why NYU?” he questions lightly, looking at her briefly before grabbing for another ball.

“What’s with the Spanish Inquisition?” she responds, chuckling slightly though there’s a nervous edge to it.

Justin stops mid swing and looks back at her. He grins sheepishly, releasing from his stance to rub the back of his neck.

“Sorry. I ask a lot of questions sometimes,” he says shrugging and then grins. “It drives Amelia crazy.” He chuckles. “I was just trying to get a feel for you. I’ll stop,” he says, crouching back into his stance.

“No…no it’s fine,” Charlotte says, feeling bad for asking. He was just curious. “I chose NYU because it has the Stern School of Business. Can’t get much better than that,” she replies shrugging indifferently.

He smiles.  “What was your major?” THWACK!

“Finance.”

He cringes. “Ugh why?”

She chuckles. “My dad thought it was a good idea.”

Justin turns to her, looking perplexed. “Why?”

Charlotte shrugs. “I’m good at math. He wanted me to have a white collar job.”

“Why?” THWACK!

Charlotte shifts uncomfortably. “He worked in a coalmine for twenty years. He wanted better for me…for us…for my brothers and I.”

“What do your brothers do?” Justin asks, walking over to his bag and exchanging his club for a different one.

“Paul is an insurance agent and Isaac is a police officer.”

Justin chuckles. “Good combination.” Charlotte nods. They’re quiet for a moment again, Justin taking more time to concentrate now that he’s switched clubs. He hits a few balls before his eyes flit back to Charlotte.

“What kind of music do you listen to?” he asks and Charlotte sighs, thinking.

“Older stuff lately,” she says, her brow furrowing at the realization. “The Eagles…Billy Joel…Elton John…” she trails rocking a little on the bench, the seat hard beneath her.

“Who’s your all time favorite musician?” THWACK!

Charlotte sighs. “Oh jeez....” she mutters, reaching up to scratch her head in thought.

“Probably Don Henley....or John Lennon...” She grins. “of course.”

Justin turns back to her sharing her grin. “Of course.” She blushes slightly. He turns back to his ball. “Why?”

“Why?” she asks, disbelief ringing in her voice. “Because…I like Don Henley’s voice…and the way he sings just…” she trails, sighing as she tries to find the right words.

“He’s very melodic,” Justin provides, wiggling a little before rearing back and letting the ball fly. Charlotte’s eyes widen as it sails passed the two hundred fifty yard marker. “And he has really smooth production.”

“Yes!” Charlotte exclaims. “Exactly.”

He turns to look at her. “And I assume you like John Lennon because-”

“He’s John Lennon,” they finish together and both chuckle at each other.

Their eyes meet and Charlotte feels a jolt go through her as he smiles at her, her stomach fluttering slightly. She likes Justin. There she admitted it. He’s a nice guy, charming and congenial. She could imagine them being friends. It’d been awhile since she had friends.

“What’s the last concert you went to?” he asks, rolling another golf ball onto his tee.

Charlotte chuckles. “Ozzfest.”

Her answer completely throws off his swing, the ball zooming low over the grass before rolling to a stop just behind the one hundred yard marker. He turns to her and finds her giggling slightly to herself. He blushes, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Now you went and messed up my swing,” he chuckles, grabbing another ball. “Ozzfest huh?” he asks eyeing her.

“Don’t ask,” she chuckles and he raises his eyebrows at her.

“Don’t ask huh?” he says, turning his head to her briefly before sending another ball flying out of the bay. “All right.” He eyes her again.

“Um…so…where’d you learn to swing like that?” she asks, turning the tables on him and he grins at her good naturedly.

“Lots and lots of practice.”

He chuckles to himself, sighing as he wrangles another ball onto the tee and squares up. He hasn’t even started on his next bucket yet. She glances at her watch. It’s about a quarter after ten. Amelia is going to have her head.

“Come here.”

Charlotte’s head snaps up and finds him standing back from his tee again, leaning on his club and gesturing her forward with one hand.

“No,” she chuckles and shakes her head. “No I’m good.” She waves her hand. “You go ahead.”

“Nah come here,” Justin says dismissively, gesturing her forward again. “I’ll teach you.”

Charlotte debates for a moment before standing cautiously and walking over, eyeing him uncertainly and he steps back as she takes the grip of the club, the leather soft against her palm. She jumps as he grips her biceps lightly, moving her into place in front of the tee and gasps as his arms go around her waist, moving to position her hands on the grip.

“Okay first you grip the club like this,” he says, maneuvering her fingers and it’s slightly uncomfortable, her wrists bent awkwardly. “Good,” he praises lightly, craning his neck so he can see over her shoulder. He smells clean, just soap and skin and Charlotte shakes her head to clear it. “Now, squeeze your arms tighter together,” he says, applying a light pressure with his own arms, causing her stomach to tremble at his embrace. Was this crossing some kind of line?

“Um…Justin?”

“Tighter,” he says, ignoring her protest and squeezing her again. He shakes his head. “No tighter. Like this.”

He steps back and moves in front of her, bringing his hands down and holding an imaginary club, his arms making a tight v across his chest. Charlotte looks down trying to do the same but her breasts won’t allow her arms to go any farther. She snorts. The one time her boobs are too big.

“Um…” she says, avoiding Justin’s patient gaze. “I can’t really.”

“Oh…” he says, a look of realization blooming across his face and his ears turn red.

“Yeah…forgot…guys don’t really have to deal with the whole breast issue.” He chuckles and Charlotte can’t help but grin at him, blushing slightly. He shakes his head and his face turns serious again. “Okay, now bring your arms back.”

He swings his imaginary club and Charlotte notes the shape of his body for reference before looking down at the club and drawing it back awkwardly. Justin grimaces.

“God no,” he mutters, pursing his lips and then sighing. “Here.” He steps behind her again, his arms going around her and she tenses, his rough warm hands covering hers. “Relax,” he chastises lightly and she tries to, her heart racing. “Okay now one fluid motion,” he says, urging her to swing back and she feels his hips press to hers as their bodies turn together, the intimacy of the new contact causing her to swallow hard, her stomach clenching nervously. He guides her in bringing the club back down slowly, his body bumping against hers as she turns unwillingly, her body unaccustomed to the motion. “Turn your hips more,” he advises as he brings her into the back swing again, and her body follows his as it moves behind her, feeling his breath as his chest expands and contracts at her back. “See that’s better!” he exclaims and Charlotte can’t help but smile. “But crouch your knees more,” he brings his hand to tap her thigh for emphasis and she tenses again but bends her knees “Yeah,” he says and she can feel him nodding behind her. She can’t help but feel proud. She’s starting to get this. “Your hair smells good.”

She nearly sends the club flying out of the bay. “Um…thanks.”

“Is that mint?” he questions and she feels his nose press just slightly against the side of her head, his chest expanding against her back as he inhales.

“Yeah,” Charlotte replies, swallowing the lump in her throat and she steps forward, turning to face him, putting the tee between them.

She watches him for a moment and he seems unaffected. It was merely an observation on his part. She sighs, cursing herself inwardly. He’s not trying to get in her pants. He’s just naturally this way. She thinks she’s finally starting to get that.

“I like it,” he says smiling easily. “Amelia always wears that flowery perfume.” He makes a face and Charlotte giggles.

“You don’t like it?”

Justin shakes his head, scrunching up his nose as if he’s sorry to say so.

Charlotte smirks. “Why?”

Justin laughs. “Because I don’t like floral scents.” He shrugs. “Come on,” he says motioning her back over the tee and moving out of the way. “Practice makes perfect.”

Charlotte nods, moving back into position, trying to remember everything he told her. Arms tight. Knees bent. One fluid motion. He stands across the tee from her, watching her appraisingly.

“Yeah turn your hips remember?” he says and Charlotte tries to. “And point your right toe when you follow through.” She follows his instruction, concentrating hard on the way her body feels, trying to remember how his looked when he did this, wondering if she’s even remotely close. “So, are you dating anyone?”

Charlotte stops mid swing, looking up at him bewildered. “What? No!”

He tilts his head to the side, confused. “Why?”

“Um…I…I dunno…” she shrugs, ducking her head and wiggling on her feet, trying to get her body in motion again.

“You wanna hit a ball?”

“No.” Charlotte says and smiles as she pulls herself back up into a regular position and her back aches. She hands him the club and moves out of the way.

“You sure? I’ll let you hit one,” he says, stepping back into position in front of the tee and falling easily into his stance. Charlotte envies his grace. She’d felt nothing but awkward when she held the club and he looked as if it were a part of his body.

“I’m fine really,” she insists, stepping back so he has enough room to swing.

“Are you interested in dating anyone?” Justin asks, rolling a ball onto the tee and this question shocks Charlotte nearly as much as the first one did.

“Not really, no,” she answers, crossing her arms over her chest, that creeping panic starting in her gut again.

“Why?” THWACK!

“Because I’m…” she pauses. Why wasn’t she interested in dating anyone? “I’m not really looking for a relationship right now.”

“Why?” THWACK!

“I…I dunno.”

“Did you just break up with someone?”  he asks gently, looking up at her sympathetically as he grabs another ball.

Charlotte smiles tightly. “No.” She pauses, thinking. “Not really,” she pauses again and sighs. “It was awhile ago.”

“Was it serious?” he asks lightly, eyeing the horizon and wiggling slightly.

“Not really,” Charlotte shrugs because it wasn’t. Casual dating turned into casual monogamy turned into a casual parting of ways. An utter waste of six months of her life.

“Has there ever been anybody serious?”

Charlotte shrugs. “I dunno,” she replies easily, then smiles. “Do you count high school?”

Justin chuckles. “Sure, why not?”

“Then yes.” Charlotte says nodding, humor lacing her words. “Or I thought it was back then. We went to PROM together don't you know?” She giggles at the memories, at her own teenage foolishness.

Justin laughs openly. “What was his name?” THWACK!

“Mackanerny Paige,” she says and then bursts out laughing as he looks up at her with an eyebrow raised. It was kind of a ridiculous name. “We all called him Mack.”

Justin chuckles too.  “Geez, I'd go by Mack too...” THWACK! “So what happened? He break your heart or did you break his?

Charlotte shifts. “It was...amicable...sort of.”

Justin gives her a look. “You broke the poor kid’s heart didn’t you?” He grins and Charlotte blushes.

“I went off to school and he didn't like that too much...so he tried to date my friends to make me jealous,” she rolled her eyes then smile. “He married one of them.” She chuckles.

“It all works out in the end I guess,” he grins, bringing the club up and examining the head for a moment before dropping it back down. “So where’d you fit in high school anyway?” THWACK!

“I was on Math Team,” she says, giving him a pointed look. “Guess.”

He bursts out laughing. “Please tell me you were in the chess club too.”

“Shut up I was good at math,” she glares and he grins at her. “We won state my junior AND senior year which is more than I can say for our football OR basketball team.” She sniffs jutting her chin out defiantly.

Justin smirks. “And the chess club?”

Charlotte narrows her eyes. “We didn't HAVE a chess club.”

“But you would have been on the team right?” He grins.

“No!” Charlotte exclaims, glaring but it fades. “....maybe...shut up!”

Justin bursts out laughing again and Charlotte can’t help but grin too at the throaty sound. He’s got a great laugh.

“Were there horn-rimmed glasses too?” THWACK!

Charlotte purses her lips. “No I have PERFECT vision thank you very much.”

Justin eyes her as he retrieves another ball. “Braces?”

She shifts. “Yes braces...but I never wore my retainer so they shifted a little.” She brings up her hand to rub her front tooth discreetly.

 “Please god tell me there are pictures,” Justin teases lightly, dragging another ball to the tee.

Charlotte scoffs. “I was TWELVE!!!”

He chuckles, “so there ARE pictures?” THWACK!

“None that YOU'LL ever see,” Charlotte replies smarmily and relishes in his frown.

“Aw come on...”

She can’t fight the laugh in her throat. “They're in PENNSYLVANIA!”

Justin looks up from his ball, barely containing his grin. “What and they don’t have a post office in Pennsylvania?”

Charlotte narrows her eyes. “My mother loves me and wouldn't do that to me.”

“Even if YOU asked her to send them?” THWACK!

Charlotte grins. “Now why would I do that?”

“Because your boss told you to.” THWACK!

“You're not my boss.” Charlotte smirks and Justin’s head shoots up, eyeing her.

“I am your boss adjacent,” he smirks.

“You don't sign my checks,” Charlotte challenges, nodding authoritatively. He grins.

“Yeah but I sleep with the one who does,” he replies and Charlotte’s eyes go wide, a gasp tearing from her throat at his daring and he laughs at her shock.

She is saved from a reply by the ringing of a phone and she looks around, wondering for a moment if it’s hers but then she realizes it’s not her jazzy polka-like ringtone. Justin jumps, pressing his palm to the top of his club, pinning it to the ground as one hand delves into the pocket of his khakis. He produces a small silver cell phone that is ringing shrilly, an actual ring. How conventional, Charlotte thinks, watching him grimace as he flips it open.

“Hey puddin’” He exclaims jovially and Charlotte has to clench her jaw to keep from laughing at the sickly sweet term of endearment.

But it dies quickly as she hears Amelia’s shrill voice on the other line, Charlotte’s stomach dropping. She sounds pissed. Justin cringes, holding the phone a little ways from his ear, listening to Amelia shriek about him canceling his appointment, finishing with a demand of his whereabouts.

“Well I’m at the driving range right now,” he says and Charlotte cringes at the silence that follows his statement. “Babe?” he questions and pulls the phone from his ear, looking to see if he dropped the call.

Charlotte hears Amelia’s voice, low and menacing but doesn’t catch the words and Justin brings the phone back to his ear quickly to catch it. Justin’s face turns grim and he nods, pressing his lips together like a chastised child.

“Yes dear,” he says softly, flipping the phone shut and sighing and turning to Charlotte wearily. “Play time is over.”

Charlotte can hear Amelia jabbering away from the moment she walks through the door of the penthouse the next morning and she cringes, the annoyed tone wafting through the foyer and bouncing off the walls and marble floors, surrounding her in a cacophony of perturbed exhalations and irritated mutterings. She tenses as she shrugs out of her coat, hanging it on the stand by the door, wondering just how much flack she’s going to get for the previous day’s detour in the schedule. Justin had said he would take care of Amelia and while Charlotte didn’t doubt that he would try, she also knew that Justin seemed to be a little inept when it came to Amelia’s mercurial personality. She takes a deep breath, following the sound of voices, one Amelia’s clipped exasperated tone, the other apologetic and unidentifiable.

“…and I want the vases wiped down every other day.”

“Si, Miss Domineck.”

Charlotte steps into the bright kitchen, the overcast morning glowing feebly in the airy room. Amelia glows radiant in a chocolate silk halter dress, belted tightly around her slim waist, her hair twisted back in a tight bun. The older woman beside her is a good foot shorter than Amelia and about three times as wide, dressed simply in white, everything about her blending in except for the leathery copper of her skin.

“That’s all Marletta,” Amelia says with a wave of her hand as she shuffles through a few papers on the kitchen island and the woman nods, bowing her head as she scurries past Charlotte out of the kitchen.

Amelia is shaking her head, bringing a dainty white coffee mug to her lips, her other hand fisted on the gentle slope of her hip as she glances at the clock. Her face is perfectly silhouetted against the large window over the sink, the muted light making her profile hazy, giving her an ethereal glow. Charlotte is momentarily dazed by her beauty and shakes her head to clear it. How someone can look so perfect this early is beyond her.

“Morning,” Charlotte says softly and Amelia’s head turns sharply as if she’d been startled but she doesn’t jump, her body perfectly still.

“Good morning, Charlotte,” Amelia says, her tone devoid of any emotion, her eyes turning back to the papers in her hand and Charlotte swallows hard. “Would you like a cup of coffee?”

Charlotte watches her carefully, Amelia’s perfect face stoic and indecipherable. She glances up at Charlotte, her blue eyes cold as ice and Charlotte has no doubt in her mind that a reprimand is coming. She wishes Amelia would just get it over with but she knows Amelia, knows half the fun is in the extreme stress her displeasure causes in those she’s irked with.

“No…no thank you,” Charlotte says as evenly as possible, walking cautiously into the room to stand on the other side of the kitchen island.

“It’s not very good,” Amelia scoffs, sitting the cup down and wrinkling her nose at it. “It’s been a rather stressful morning.”

“Has it?” Charlotte asks, her heartbeat increasing with every passing second. Why won’t she just get on with it?

Amelia rolls her eyes. “Well, the dry cleaners ruined my Chanel blouse. When you get back you have to find me a new one. Preferably someone who isn’t utterly incompetent,” Amelia practically snarls and Charlotte swallows hard. Well, at least she knows she still has a job. “Patti is off in Paris searching for the table cloths I want for the wedding party tables and she was supposed to be back three days ago to help with Justin’s tux but of course she’s not back yet.” Amelia rolls her eyes. “And I had to have a talk with the maid service because this place is filthy.” She sighs shaking her head. “Oh and Justin still isn’t awake.” She snatches her coffee cup bringing it to her lips, annoyed.

Charlotte merely nods in response. She doesn’t envy Kaitie this morning. Amelia looks at her watch, sighing and rolling her eyes at the time as she gathers the papers in front of her and shoves them into the Prada briefcase that’s sitting on the barstool next to her.

“Justin’s only agenda for the day are his fittings, yes?” Amelia asks, rifling through her bag and Charlotte’s stomach clenches.

“Yes,” Charlotte replies, bracing herself for the onslaught.

“Good,” Amelia replies simply and lifts her head, her ice blue eyes colliding with Charlotte’s green tinted orbs and Charlotte has to swallow the lump in her throat. “Please make sure yesterday’s little detour isn’t repeated.”

Charlotte stutters. “Y-yes, Amelia. Of…of course.” She nods.

“I realize that he’s difficult,” Amelia says sighing and she glances at the clock again, narrowing her eyes and glancing at the staircase across the kitchen. “He’s practically a force of nature. Hurricane Justin my mother calls him,” Amelia adds with a humorless chuckle. “But that’s why he needs you, Charlotte. He needs someone there to rein him in when he gets ridiculous ideas.”

Charlotte nods contritely but can’t help thinking that that is what he has Amelia for. Amelia nods once, grabbing for her coffee cup and draining it and that seems to be the end of it. Charlotte heaves a sigh of relief. Amelia purses her lips, glancing at the clock again before sighing, annoyed.

“He is the most impossible man,” she growls, stomping towards the staircase her heels rapping smartly on the blond oak floor as she approaches the staircase. “JUSTIN!!! FOR GOD SAKE GET UP!!! YOU HAVE AN APPOINTMENT AT BROOKS BROTHERS AT EIGHT-THIRTY AND IT’S ALREADY A QUARTER TO!!!”

Charlotte cringes as Amelia rolls her eyes and hurries back over to her bag, checking its contents again and glancing at her watch.

“You’ve got your work cut out for you today,” Amelia grumbles and then jerks as if remembering something, her mouth forming a perfect “oh” as she reaches into her bag. “Justin’s schedule. 8:30 at Brooks Brothers, 9:30 at Gucci, 10:30 at Armani, 11:30 at Yves St Laurent, 12:30 at Ralph Lauren-”

“Um,” Charlotte says and Amelia looks up from her list, her eyes questioning, slightly annoyed by the interruption. “Did you make time for-”

“Lunch, yes,” Amelia says, waving a hand. “After Ralph Lauren he’s got forty-five minutes for lunch and his next appointment is with Barney’s at 2:15 and then finally John Varvatos at 3:30.”

Charlotte takes the paper from Amelia, Kaitie’s elegant scrawl indicating the addresses and times. Charlotte bites her lip, eyeing the forty-five minute window for lunch. Justin usually eats at noon everyday and if there is one thing you should never try to change, its Justin’s eating habits. He’s utterly impossible when he’s hungry.

“Don’t let him choose anything too over the top,” Amelia says, shouldering her bag. “Make sure he sticks to because he’s been having this ridiculous idea about a zuit suit,” she scoffs. “Just keep reminding him that the wedding is traditional.”

Charlotte is just about to respond when she hears the soft steady thump of bare feet on the stairs. Both women turn to find Justin staggering sleepily into the kitchen, his hair a ruffled curly mass atop his head, his face scruffy and unshaven, a pillow crease across his forehead. He’s still wearing his pajamas, thread bare blue plaid pants and a t-shirt that fits tightly across his chest. He shuffles blearily to the kitchen island and slides onto a stool, laying his head on his arms with a soft growl.

“You’re still in your pajamas?” Amelia accuses her voice laced with annoyance. “You need to shower and get ready. I swear if you miss your tux fitting again I will-”

“Amelia,” Justin groans, his voice scratchy and muffled from inside his arms. “It’s seven-thirty in the morning. Please wait till at least nine before you start bitching at me.”

Charlotte’s eyes go wide as Amelia’s narrow in rage, her fingers tightening around the strap of her bag as she presses her lips into a thin line. Justin is seemingly oblivious to her anger, too sleepy to think about what he’s saying or even care about her reaction. Charlotte fears for his safety. But Amelia merely grits her teeth, placing a hand on his back and he jumps slightly as her nails curl in and she leans close to his ear, her breath fanning what little of his face is visible.

“Don’t curse,” she says lowly, her voice a warning and a sound of distaste pulls from his throat as she pecks his ear and pats his back before stepping back. “Good luck,” she deadpans to Charlotte, eyeing Justin disapprovingly before shaking her head and breezing out of the kitchen.

Charlotte watches her go, nothing but a blur of silk and the scent of gardenia lingers in her wake. Charlotte turns to find Justin still hunched over the kitchen island, his back rising and falling steadily. She bites her lip, taking a small step towards him.

“Justin?” she questions softly and gets no response. “J-Justin?” she asks again, a little louder this time and reaches out, poking him just under his shoulder blade. He twitches, groaning annoyed. “Justin!” Charlotte says, her voice sharp and he bolts up in his chair, nearly toppling off the stool as he jerks awake.

He sighs irritated. “Don’t…don’t do that.”

“Sorry,” Charlotte says somewhat sympathetically, moving around the kitchen island to set her bag down and she watches as he looks around, blinking dazedly. “Tough night?”

“God you have no idea,” he groans, his head falling back to his arms. “She missed her calling doing A&R,” he says, his voice muffled in his arms. “She should have been a boxer with her stamina.” He pulls his head up, sighing. “It’s my own fault really. She was giving me the silent treatment until I finally convinced her to talk to me about it.”

“God, that’s the kiss of death” Charlotte says and then her eyes go wide in shock at her own statement. Justin’s lips twitch into a short smile.

“You’d think I’d learn by now,” he sighs, reaching his arms over his head and wincing as his back pops. “God that guest bed is horrible.” Charlotte’s eyebrows knit. He nods at her expression. “Oh yeah she made me sleep in the guest room. In my own damn house.” He grumbles. “Woman’s got some stones I’ll give her that.”

Charlotte’s eyes soften, feeling truly sorry for him for the first time. Not so much because he was constantly being treated like a naughty child who needs to be taught a lesson but because he failed to realize this. He failed to realize that Amelia ruled him in every sense of the word. There was no question in Charlotte’s mind of whose house this really was.

“You should get dressed,” she says softly and he sighs, his blue eyes closing in fatigue. “Your fitting is in…” She checks her watch and cringes. “…thirty minutes.”

Justin groans, his head falling back to his arms and Charlotte sighs.

“No…no don’t put your head down,” she says and Justin brings his face back up, looking at her wearily, his lips forming a pout and she can’t help but smile. “Come on…clothes.”

“I need a shower,” he says, ruffling his hair into complete disarray and Charlotte has to bite her lip to suppress her giggle.

“Then you better hurry.”

“Fine,” he sighs, growling slightly as he slides off his barstool, trudging back towards the stairs. “Make me a bowl of cereal will you?” he hollers over his shoulder before disappearing up the staircase.

Charlotte watches his retreating form, checking her watch again and grimacing. If they’re late for this appointment Amelia will have her head. She turns to the cabinets, slightly daunted by the number of them, wondering where on earth they keep the bowls. As she’s making her decision her phone rings, the jaunty polka blaring from the inside of her purse. She winces as she tugs it out of her bag, flicking it open without checking the caller I.D, doing anything to stop the noise.

“Hello?” she says breathlessly, opening the pantry, fairly certain that’s where they hide the cereal.

“Charlie Beth Puddin and Pie!!!” a booming male voice exclaims through the line and Charlotte can’t help the grin that crosses her face at the sound of her father’s joyous greeting.

“Hey Dad,” she says, a hint of laughter in her voice as she peers around boxes of rice and canned goods, looking for the cereal. She finds a box of bran flakes but keeps searching.

“How’s my girl?” he asks and she can hear tinkering in the background, the sound of metal on metal.

“Oh you know…fine,” Charlotte replies, crouching down to look on the lower shelves but finds nothing. Bran flakes it is then. “What are you doing?” she asks, wincing as the tinkering gets louder.

“Oh you know this damn faucet in the bathroom,” her father grumbles and a loud clang sounds. “Sonnuvah bitch!” Charlotte giggles. “Sorry honey,” he says with a sigh.

“Did you need something?” Charlotte asks, setting the cereal on the counter before opening cabinet after cabinet searching for bowls.

“Yeah I was wondering when you were coming in? Isaac already agreed to pick you up from the airport-”

Charlotte cringes. “Dad-”

“Don’t worry he won’t take the cruiser this time,” her father chuckles. “And I made him promise not to pretend to arrest you in the baggage claim again.”

“Thanks Dad,” Charlotte replies sarcastically but he doesn’t seem to catch it.

“So when you coming in? What’s your flight number? I hope you’re not taking that one airline, they always lose your luggage…” he says, the clanging in the background falling into a steady rhythm.

“Well I haven’t booked my flight yet. I-” Charlotte says, struggling to reach a delicate white bowl on the top shelf.

“Haven’t booked your flight yet?” her father booms and Charlotte nearly sends the bone china to the floor, her fingers fumbling before wrapping safely around the bowl. She breathes slowly. “You know those things get more expensive the longer you wait.”

“I do know that Dad but Amelia hasn’t picked when she and Justin are leaving for Memphis yet and I can’t book a flight until they do.” She responds, setting the bowl on the counter and cradling the phone under her ear as she opens the box of cereal.

“Well that’s just rude,” her father huffs and Charlotte smiles, shaking the contents of the box into the small bowl before turning to put it back in the pantry. “You want me to call and talk to her?”

The phone slides from Charlotte’s shoulder in horror and she just barely catches it before it slides down her arm. “NO!” she exclaims panicked and then swallows hard, sighing. “No…no Dad that’s not necessary.”

“Are you sure?” he asks, the clanging loud again and Charlotte winces, holding the phone away from her ear as she searches the drawers for a spoon.

”Yeah Dad I’m sure,” Charlotte says, scooting the bowl of cereal in front of the chair Justin had previously occupied, setting the spoon next to it neatly.

Just then Justin comes ambling down the stairs, muttering sourly to himself. His face is clean shaven, his hair set in neat waves, curling loosely at his temples. His suit is coal black, three flat silver buttons glinting on the cuff of his jacket as he adjusts his tie at his throat, smoothing his hands down his front.

“Dad I’ll have to call you back,” Charlotte says quickly and Justin eyes her as he steps closer.

“Okay Charlie Beth, Apple of my Eye, Tart of my Heart,” he sings and Charlotte chuckles. “Hey you get a lunch right? Call me at lunch.”

“I’ll try,” Charlotte says quickly, watching Justin watch her as he slides onto the barstool. “Bye Dad.”

She’s flipping the phone closed as her father bids farewell and she winces. She really needs to make more time to talk to him… and her mother…and her brothers. Being Amelia Domineck’s assistant doesn’t really leave much time for anything else.

“Was that your dad?” Justin asks, watching as Charlotte searches in the fridge for the milk.

“Yeah,” Charlotte says. “Is soy milk okay?” she asks, pulling the carton out and he makes a face. She turns back into the fridge. “Actually it seems to be your only choice.”

He frowns then nods, sighing. She hands him the carton and he opens it, wrinkling his nose as he sniffs the opening and shakes his head. He pours it into his bowl and goes to close the carton when he does a double take.

“Um…was this the only cereal in the pantry?” he asks, handing her the milk and she cringes, moving to put it back in the fridge.

“Yeah,” Charlotte says, her heart beginning to race as he pokes the contents of his bowl with his spoon.

He peers up at her. “No Frosted Flakes?”

She swallows hard. “N-no.”

He sighs. “MARLETTA!!!” he hollers and Charlotte jumps. “Sorry,” he offers, grinning sheepishly at her as the maid re-enters the kitchen.

“Goo’ morning, senor,” Marletta says, her Spanish accent thick and Justin grins at her.

“Good morning Marly…I was just wondering what happened to my Frosted Flakes?” he asks and Marletta’s face crumples into a look of uncertainty.

“Miss Domineck threw away this morning, senor,” Marletta says softly and Justin’s frown deepens, looking longingly into his cereal bowl, poking at the bran flakes sadly.

“Okay…” he sighs and then as Marletta begins to leave again he reaches for her arm stopping her, motioning for her to lean in in conference. “Could you get me another box and put it somewhere safe?”

Marletta blinks at him before smiling slowly and shaking her head. “Si, senor. I get for you.”

“Marly I love ya,” he says grinning and the older woman pats him on the shoulder affectionately, chuckling as she leaves the room.

Justin scrunches his nose at his cereal before digging his spoon in and taking a bite, chewing slowly before swallowing and smacking his lips, his tongue snaking out to lick his bottom lip and he grimaces.

“Charlie can you hand me the sugar or something?” he asks sighing and the urge to roll her eyes isn’t as strong as it usually is as she turns and searches for the sugar bowl. She must be getting used to it. She should be since its pretty much the only way he addresses her now.

“Where is…oh there it is,” she mutters to herself, grabbing the small sugar dish by one of his handles, her other hand flying to hold the lid in place as it almost slides off the top.

She sets it in front of Justin who smiles his thanks, piling sugar into his cereal bowl and turning it over and over to mix it in. He takes another bite and seems somewhat satisfied, sighing as he gazes out the window.

“How cold is it today, Al?” he deadpans, invoking their little inside joke from yesterday and Charlotte narrows her eyes at him, pursing her lips so as not to smile when a grin pulls across his face at her reaction.

“Very,” she replies, a shiver running through her as she remembers her rush from the curb to the front door of the building.

He grumbles. “Just perfect.” He shovels another spoonful of cereal in his mouth and winces at the taste and by the look on his face it takes all his willpower to force it down. He sighs. “Let’s just go,” he grumbles wiping his mouth swiftly with his napkin and crumpling it in his fist, moving to drop his bowl in the sink. “Wouldn’t wanna be late.”

His sarcasm isn’t lost on Charlotte. Some day this was going to be.

***

A horn blares and he feels a small hand catch his elbow, tugging him back before he walks headlong into midmorning traffic. He growls, rolling his eyes and waiting impatiently. They’ve been doing this all damn morning. Hopping from shop to shop trying on tux after tux, vest after vest, strip down, measure, dress up, strip down again, back in his own clothes. If he’d had any sense he would have dressed casual. His stomach growls. And forced down more of his breakfast.

“I hate this fucking city,” he spats, glaring at the cars that are inching slowly down East Seventy-First Street.

“It’s just down the road,” Charlotte says evenly but he cannot be placated.

“It’s cold as fuck,” he growls, shivering hard even inside his heavy jacket and he glances at her just in time to catch her pursing her lips in frustration. “Where are we going again?”

“Ralph Lauren,” Charlotte says, craning her neck as traffic begins to slow and he watches as she steps out hesitantly before she scurries quickly into the intersection.

He follows somewhat reluctantly, catching up in a few strides. It’s spitting snow now, white flecks dotting Charlotte’s chestnut hair as he strides up next to her. She hisses, sucking air through her teeth and he looks over just in time to see her shiver hard, her hands fisted in the pockets of her peacoat. He feels guilty now, dragging her all over this godforsaken city in the middle of the Christmas shopping season in subzero temperatures, and he was being an ass on top of it all.

“We’re going to lunch after this I promise,” she says, glancing briefly at him, her face tense and he wishes she would smile more. “This is it I think,” she adds, surveying the royal blue awnings.

“Its fine I’ll just gnaw my arm off if I get really hungry,” he deadpans shrugging his shoulders, watching her out of the corner of his eye and he sees the corners of her mouth twitch. He pulls his face into a look of mock contemplation. “Do you think that would effect the cut on the tux?”

She smiles before mimicking his contemplative expression. “Probably, we’ll tell the tailor to account for that.”

Justin grins at her as he reaches for the door, gesturing her inside and he follows, the blast of warm air causing him to sigh in quiet thanks. The smell of new fabric and the musk of cologne assail his senses and he sneezes hard, shaking his entire body. Charlotte looks back at him slightly alarmed, her cheeks pink from the sudden temperature change and he smiles shaking his head at her.

“Cologne makes me sneeze,” he says, waving off her concerned expression and she finally does smile, chuckling a little to herself in the way that girls do when they think you’ve said something adorable. Amelia hasn’t done that in years.

“I’ll try not to put on so much next time,” Charlotte deadpans and he gives her a wry smile before shaking his head.

“Mr. Timberlake!”

Charlotte and Justin look up to see a thin flamboyant man bounding down the large wooden staircase. Justin cringes. He can’t be a day over twenty-five. His hair is short in back, but long in the front and slicked across his forehead, giving the appearance that the wind blew from the left and it sort of just stuck that way. He wears black frame glasses and a salmon colored dress shirt with a grey vest and trousers, all of which are rumpled just enough to show that it was done on purpose. He has a measuring tape draped around his neck.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you sir. I’m Leo,” the man says, extending his hand delicately and Justin wonders if this is one of those situations where you have to give a limp handshake. He hates that.

“Pleasure to meet you, Leo,” Justin says, gripping the man’s hand, giving it a gentle squeeze which seems to be satisfactory. “I’m Justin and this is my assistant Charlotte.”

Leo turns to look and Charlotte and his eyes light up. “Well aren’t you just adorable,” he exclaims fisting his hands on his hips and Justin has to bite back his laugh at the shocked look on her face. “Peacoats are so coming back in.” His eyes travel down her body appraisingly and he gasps when he reaches her feet. “And ballet flats! Honey, those are vicious! Where’d you get those?”

“Um…” Charlotte says, looking at Justin uncertainly and he merely raises his eyebrows in amusement. She turns to Leo and slowly replies, “Macy’s.”

He gasps again. “And a thrifty shopper too! Precious.” He sighs smiling at Charlotte before looking back and forth between the two of them. “Well we’re here for you today aren’t we, Justin?” He asks and Justin tenses slightly when Leo pats him on the chest but the younger man doesn’t seem to notice, already making his way up the staircase. “If you’ll just follow me,” he calls over his shoulder.

They share a look before Charlotte nods at him, indicating that he should follow first and he sighs, trudging up the stairs slowly. His eyes flit around the second story, suits and polos hanging enticingly from the racks. He almost wishes he were just shopping today. Anything to avoid dropping trou in front of yet another twenty-something retail assistant. You’d think he’d get better, the district manager or at least the manager of the store, being who he is. Then again he’s not really him anymore, not the platinum selling, grammy award winning artist. Not the actor. Not the producer. He is Amelia Domineck’s fiancé which if he were someone else he wouldn’t get all up in arms about him either. Or something. His brow creases. Now he’s confusing himself.

“Okay Justin dear if you could just come in here,” Leo says, swinging open double French doors, curtained for privacy.

Inside he sees a floor length three-way mirror in front of which is a small octagonal stage, or chopping block as he views it. This is where he gets to stand in his underwear. Great. The room is otherwise unfurnished aside from a few racks of jackets and pants, dress shirts and vests. There’s a small side table with cuff links displayed on velvet. There are three chairs off to the side for any guests that would like to witness his humiliation.

“Okay I just need you to strip down to your skivvies and we’ll get some measurements,” Leo says and Justin forces a smile, fighting the roll of his eyes as he unbuttons his coat. “Charlotte honey you can sit over there,” Leo adds as he takes Justin’s coat and Justin is somewhat relieved to find that Charlotte looks almost as horrified as he feels.

“Um…I can wait…” she swallows hard looking at the floor. “out…outside.”

Then again flustering her is always so much fun.

“Don’t be silly Charlie,” Justin says, waving a hand at her, enjoying the tight look she gets on her face over the nickname as he shrugs out of his suit jacket, Leo eying it appraisingly before draping it over a hanger. “You’ve seen a man in his underwear before haven’t you?”

“Well…” Charlotte stutters and Justin grins at the blush that creeps up her neck. “Yes…but-”

“This suit is just gorgeous,” Leo interrupts as Justin slips out of his vest. “Yves St Laurent right?”

“Um…yes,” Justin says as he begins to unbutton his shirt while Leo hangs the vest next to his jacket, admiring it before returning to take his shirt from him.

“They cut such great suits,” Leo gushes, eyeing Justin a little longer than was customary as he takes the shirt from him. “Of course so do we,” Leo adds, grinning. “We have soooooo many options for you to try today. Of course you’ll look fantastic in all of them but this is about you choosing what will look best for your special day.” Leo grins widely shrugging his shoulders up in excitement and Justin smiles back the best he can, waiting for him to turn before he undoes his belt.

“Justin,” Charlotte says, her voice slightly manic and he looks at her, finding her head down, her eyes flitting around the pattern on the Persian rug. “I…I really can just wait outside like at the other-”

“It’s fine,” Justin replies, stepping out of his slacks and as Leo flits away to hang them up he leans towards her in conference. “Don’t leave me alone with him. He makes me nervous.”

Charlotte giggles and his stomach flutters. “Afraid he’s going to try and have his way with you,” she asks, her green eyes dancing mischievously. “I could give you two some privacy if-”

“No,” Justin says, glaring playfully. “I need you in here so the kid doesn’t turn me into his own personal Barbie.”

“Well would you look at that!” Leo exclaims and Justin jumps slightly at the joy in his voice as he looks at himself in the mirror, clad in only an undershirt and his boxer-briefs. “You’re wearing our underwear.” Justin winces. This is all so horribly humiliating. He thinks he hears Charlotte giggle and he fights his own blush. “The Polo boxer-breifs are soooooo comfortable,” he sighs and leans towards Justin in conference. “And give great support.” Justin forces a smile as Leo winks conspiratorially at him.

Charlotte coughs but it sounds closer to a laugh.

“We have some great options for you,” Leo says, tugging a rack closer to the raised step. “We just need to get some measurements. If you could just step up here-”

“I have his measurements,” Charlotte says and Justin turns to look at her, finding her shrugging out of her coat, her dark hair falling like a curtain in front of her face as she paws through her handbag. “Here,” she says, retrieving a piece of paper and handing it to Leo, being sure to avoid looking at Justin. Her eyes flick quickly to his face, finding him looking slightly puzzled. “I had them write them down at the last place. No sense in them measuring you every time,” she mumbles before scurrying over to the chairs and sitting, tucking her hair behind her ear and looking resolutely at the floor.

If he wasn’t engaged he would have kissed her.

“Well okay then that’s one less step,” Leo says as he paws through the racks, snatching a white dress shirt. “This is our Classic Fit Wing Formal,” Leo says as he helps Justin shrug it on. “It’s a long-sleeved formal dress shirt tailored for a comfortable

classic fit.” He comes around front, taking both sides and Justin holds his arms open, bent awkwardly at the elbows, watching uncomfortably as Leo does the buttons for him. “Ultra-smooth, crisp cotton broadcloth for a sleek look,” he continues, situating the shirt front on Justin’s slim frame, “Elegant wing collar,” he says, adjusting the collar. “French cuffs.” He slips his hand into his pocket producing a set of cufflinks and hooking them through the ends of the sleeves, trapping Justin’s wrists in the fabric. “Split back yoke for a smooth, beautifully contoured shoulder,” Leo says, moving around behind Justin, smoothing his hands quickly across the breadth of his shoulders. “See, perfect. Tailor-made by God himself.”

Justin scrunches his nose, wiggling his shoulders a little. The fabric was nice albeit the shirt was a little tight across his back. Leo brought him the trousers next, Justin taking them from him quickly in case he got any ideas about helping him.

“The trousers are tailored with double forward pleats,” Leo says as Justin buttons the pants at his waist. They’re a little high for his taste and a little loose. “Belted waist with interior suspender buttons and adjustable button tabs at the sides.” Justin half listens as he tucks in his shirt, examining his reflection, shuffling his feet as the hemline pools around his ankles. “Oh, they’re unhemmed honey. We tailor that,” Leo adds, patting his arm as he goes to get the jacket. Justin sighs.

“And this is the single-button tuxedo jacket,” Leo says, helping Justin tug it on. “It’s tailored with a grosgrain lapel and button.” He tugs lightly on the lapels and Justin runs his hands down his front, the fabric smooth and soft beneath his hands. “Angled chest welt pockets,” Leo pauses as he taps them with a finger. “Flap welt pockets at the hips,” Tap. “And interior welt pockets.” Tap. “Finished with double-vented back and button detail at the wrists.”

Leo stands back to admire him and Justin eyes himself critically in the mirror. Can he see himself getting married in this? He tries to picture it. The vast interior of St. Thomas. The six bridesmaids and ushers. He tries to see the flowers and hear the music. He tries to see Amelia, his Amelia, dressed in white, standing next to him. It’s all a blur in his head, a fuzzy almost inconceivable blur. He sighs.

“What do you think Charlie?” Justin asks, turning left, then right, trying to look at his ass as discreetly as possible. He finds it non-existent as always.

She doesn’t respond right away and this causes him to turn to her, finding her gazing up at him, a look of awe on her face. Her mouth snaps shut as his eyes meet hers and he can’t help but grin. A jaw drop. He hasn’t gotten that in awhile. She sputters slightly, smoothing her hands over her skirt nervously and he hears Leo chuckle.

“My thoughts exactly, honey,” Leo smirks, fussing over the sleeves of the jacket.

“You drooled a little there, Charlie,” Justin chuckles, shaking his arms out as he preens a little in the mirror, humming softly to himself.

Leo smirks as he walks over to the table and comes back with a black bow tie, standing in front of Justin on the platform as he wraps it around his neck.

“I…I did no such thing,” Charlotte sniffs, crossing her arms over her chest and glaring at Justin.

“We have the perfect shoes for this too,” Leo says as he smoothes Justin’s tie against his throat.

As he scurries off, Justin tugs at it, feeling like he’s choking. He winces, swallowing hard. He turns to Charlotte and her eyes flick away immediately, looking over at Leo who is opening a box of shoes at Justin’s feet. Justin begrudgingly allows him to slip them on for him, wiggling his toes as best he can in the unrelenting leather.

“These are Sullivan Oxfords,” Leo says, buffing the toes with his shirt sleeve. “They’re calfskin and handmade in Italy.”

“What do you think Charlie?” Justin asks turning towards her and opening his arms, turning this way and that by his waist. He couldn’t really move.

“It looks…” Charlotte trails, her eyes roving across the breadth of his shoulders down his torso and legs to his feet. “…nice.” She clears her throat, tucking her hair nervously behind her ear.

“Nice?” Leo asks incredulously. “Honey, are you blind?” Justin can’t help but laugh at the expression on Leo’s face. He was growing on him. “You sure you’re straight?” Leo asks and Justin chuckles.

“Pretty positive yeah,” Justin chuckles, shaking his wrists and Leo sighs dramatically.

“All the cute ones are.”

Justin chuckles, humming still as he tries to raise his arms, pushing against the fabric that is binding him into one position. It gives but not easily. His hum turns into more of an opened mouthed run, his vocal chords vibrating softly and he bobs his head as the familiar song flows through him. Before he knows it he’s belting it out.

“Clean shirt, new shoes / And I don’t know where I am goin to,” he sings, snapping his fingers and tapping his foot and the grin that spreads across Charlotte’s face brightens the room. There was the smile he was looking for. He continues. “Silk suit, black tie,” he tugs on the ends of his tie, wiggling his hips the best he can in the confining suit. “I don’t need a reason whyyyyyyyy.” He holds his hand in front of his face and he can practically feel the mic in his hand, feel the lights, hear the bass. “They come runnin just as fast as they can…” He throws his arms out, but the tux catches him, only allowing him to raise them waist high but his voice soars like his body can’t. “Cause every girl crazy bout a sharp dressed man.”

“Oh it’s not just the girls honey,” Leo deadpans, chuckling softly and Justin comes back to himself and he’s him once again. The new him. Just Amelia Domineck’s fiancé. “Now, I have another tux that will look just heavenly on you…”

***

“Okay that only took forever,” Justin grumbles as they trudge down the staircase, his stomach snarling at him, demanding food.

“I’m sorry,” Charlotte says softly and Justin sighs. It’s not her fault Ralph Lauren offered a million different tuxedos and Leo wanted him to try on every single one.

“Where are we going for lunch?” he asks as they make their way to the doors.

“Well there’s this place called Fred’s,” Charlotte says, tugging the paper with their itinerary from her coat pocket. “Kaitie suggested it since our next stop is Barney’s.”

He nods, anything sounding good to him at this point. He reaches to open the door for her, holding his breath and bracing himself against the cold gush that was about to hit them. What he didn’t brace himself for was the array of flashbulbs that nearly blinded him.

“Great, just fucking great,” he growls, pushing his way into the crowd. “Charlotte call the-”

He cuts off midsentence when he turns and she’s not behind him. She’s still standing by the door, green eyes wide with terror as two of the six men close in on her, shouting questions and accusations, shutters clicking wildly. He grits his teeth, pushing back through, elbowing one photographer hard in the ribs to get him out of the way.

“Charlotte it’s okay,” he says, his hand closing around her bicep as he tugs her into the crowd, cameras snapping, everyone shouting.

He can feel her trembling and he’s sure it’s not from the cold. It’d been awhile since he’d done this, since he’d had to help someone deal with the cameras. He was so used to Amelia’s stop and pose routine, turning this way and that so they’d get a good shot. She called it ‘making the best of a bad situation.’ They were going to take your picture no matter what so why not make it a good one? But it still seemed like second nature to him as his arm wrapped protectively around Charlotte’s shoulders, tugging her swiftly down the sidewalk. She stumbled along and he knew she must be half blind from the flashbulbs. He could hear her panting, practically feel her heart hammering against his ribs as he tugged her body tighter against his. She ducked her head, turning slightly into his chest as the paparazzi followed them, three of them wheeling around to get in front.

“Who’s your girl JT?” one shouts and Justin ignores him, his face set in a hard mask of annoyance as he pulls Charlotte swiftly through the crowd.

“Where’s Amelia?” another asks, his camera flashing white and Justin slows his pace until his vision is only partially obscured by spots.

“Getting tired of blonds Justin?” another heckles, camera clicking just a foot away from him and he longs to reach out and smash the camera on the ground but he feels Charlotte press harder into him as one of the others edge closer to her and he forces himself to remain in control.

“How’s the wedding going?”

“Found a tux yet?”

“Isn’t it a little early for a mistress?”

The rapid fire questioning, the close quarters, Charlotte’s fear, its all getting to him, tensing his muscles and the anger swells. They need to get out of here. They aren’t too far from their destination but it is too far to walk with these bloodhounds on their trail and with the way Charlotte is clinging to him he knows she can’t take that. Calling the towncar would take too long. He wracks his brain for an answer…

“TAXI!” he shouts suddenly, dragging her closer to the curb, the arm that’s not around her flying into the air and mercifully one comes to a screeching halt in front of him. There is a God.

The cameras are still clicking brutally as Justin flings open the door and guides Charlotte inside. He folds himself in behind her, slamming the door shut and spitting directions at the driver who swerves back into traffic quickly. Justin leans back, filling his lungs with the rancid smell of the taxi and sighs it out again, pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers. He finally looks over and finds Charlotte panting, her green eyes still wide with fear, her face pale.

“Hey,” he says, turning to her and without thinking he grips her face in his hands, forcing her to focus her eyes on his. “Are you okay?”

Her cheeks are warm against his frozen fingers, her skin soft and dry. Amelia’s was always waxy and coated in matte and creamy blush when he was actually allowed to touch her face. The tips of his fingers brush her earlobes and it is a little surprising not to meet the cold metal of earrings, no diamonds or platinum to accidentally tangle in. As she nods her hair bushes forward over the backs of his hands and it is soft, no hairspray or gel, just hair.

He is so caught up in his assessment that it is a shock when he feels her cold fingers wrap around his wrists, tugging his hands away and he immediately pulls back, putting several inches of sticky seat between them. She forces a smile at him although her eyes are still slightly panicked.

“I’m okay,” she breathes, her voice unstable but he can tell she’s beginning to calm down.

“First experience with the paparazzi?” he asks and she heaves a shaky sigh, an embarrassed smile pulling at her lips.

“Uh, yeah,” she chuckles, settling back against the seat, her body finally relaxing. “For some reason not a lot of people are interested in my picture. It might be because I’m not famous.” She sniggers to herself.

“I’m not really famous anymore,” Justin shrugs, biting back the remark that he’s just Amelia’s fiancé. But he can’t help himself. “That usually only happens when I’m with Amelia.”

“Seemed like you knew what you were doing,” she responds, taking deep breaths still, trying to calm her racing heart.

“Well…” Justin says shifting uncomfortably. “Yeah…it used to be that way…all the time,” he shakes his head. “It was probably just the tux,” he shrugs. “Everyone’s going ape shit over this fucking wedding. I’m really not that big a deal anymore.”

“Really?” Charlotte asks, her eyes cutting to him as she represses a smirk. “Coulda fooled me.”

“Maybe they were there for you,” Justin shrugs and then smirks adding “You are New York City’s leading weather man.” He grins cheekily and Charlotte narrows her eyes.

“You’re never gonna stop with the Al Roker jokes are you?” Charlotte asks rolling her eyes but a smile is fighting to break out over her face.

Justin chuckles. “Not likely.”

“Welcome to Fred’s,” a young boy of about twenty-two says as he sidles up to the small table Charlotte and Justin occupy in a quiet corner of the restaurant. “Can I get you all something to drink?”

Justin likes sitting in the corners at restaurants and it’s a rare occasion when he actually gets to. Amelia’s rather partial to the center. She likes to see everything and of course be seen. She wants to know who is where and who’s with who. He just likes to eat in peace.

“I’ll have a coke,” Charlotte says, smiling up at the waiter and then looking back down at her menu.

“Diet?” the waiter asks and Charlotte looks up blinking. Justin’s eyes narrow.

“Did she ask for diet?” Justin asks evenly, not even looking up from his menu but he can feel the waiter tense next to him.

“Um…no..I just-”

“Then she wants regular I would assume,” Justin looks up and smiles. “And I’ll have a Sprite.”

The waiter clears his throat, shifting as he jots this down on his notepad. “Yes, I’ll be right back. My name is Fred, if you need anything.”

“Fred!” Justin exclaims as the waiter turns to leave. “Now that’s ironic.”

Justin looks up at Charlotte to see if she’s amused and finds her peering at him curiously, her green eyes working over his face as if she were trying to solve a riddle. She looks down quickly when he cocks his head to the side in confusion.

“What?” he asks, picking up his menu again and surveying his options. His stomach rumbles.

“Nothing,” Charlotte says, her voice amused, biting her lip to hide her smile and he shifts in his chair.

“What?” he asks, his voice jumping an octave and she sighs looking up at him.

“Amelia did the same thing when we were at lunch,” Charlotte says, waving her hand dismissively and Justin’s brows furrow in confusion. “I ordered a coke at a restaurant and the waiter asked if I wanted diet and then she asked if I had said I wanted diet and…” Charlotte trails shaking her head. “Never mind I just thought it was amusing.”

“Very,” Justin responds dryly and Charlotte gives him a mocking smile just as the waiter reappears with their drinks.

“Are you ready to order?” he asks and Justin looks up at Charlotte who just stares at him, seemingly waiting.

“Would you like me to order for you?” Justin asks after a moment and Charlotte’s eyes widen.

“No, I… I was waiting for you,” she replies with a chuckle and Justin grins.

“Ladies first,” he says and Charlotte gives him a tight lipped smile before turning to the waiter.

“I’d like the spaghetti,” she says softly, closing her menu and the waiter jots it down nodding.

“Caesar or House salad with that?”

“Um Caesar,” Charlotte says and then she shifts. “But can I have French dressing on that…instead of the Caesar dressing?” The waiter nods and she smiles “Thanks.”

The corners of Justin’s lips twitch as he files this information away for questioning later. The waiter turns to him.

“And for you sir?”

“I’ll have the New York Strip Steak, medium rare please,” he says holding his menu out for him to take.

“And House or Caesar salad?”

“Caesar,” he replies and the waiter nods taking his menu and then Charlottes.

“I’ll have this right out for you.”

“Thanks Fred,” Justin says with a snigger, sighing as he runs his hands along the edge of the table. “So…Charlie…”

“Oh god,” Charlotte mutters, taking a sip of her soda and then smiling at him. He chuckles. “Is it gonna be twenty questions again today?”

“Maybe…” Justin replies, eyeing her. “What’s your least favorite part about working for Amelia?”

Charlotte’s face blanches, her eyes going wide and he grins. He can see the panic stretch across her face, see her throat move as she swallows hard. She looks down and stutters, her fingers playing with the hem of the table cloth.

“Um… I find… everything…agreeable,” she stutters, not meeting his eyes and he chuckles.

Just then her phone rings and she jumps, practically diving under the table to answer it and Justin bites back his laugh, watching her fumble to open it, tucking her hair behind her ear before answering.

“Hello?” she says and she tenses. “Hi Amelia,” she says, her eyes meeting Justin’s and he tenses as well. “Oh everything is going fine….Everyone’s been very helpful.” Charlotte nods, while shrugging at Justin and he smiles. “Yes he’s here…we’re at the restaurant now…Fred’s…What’d he get?” Charlotte look at him puzzled and he gives her a perplexed look. “He got a steak…medium rare…” Charlotte’s brow creases as she listens. “Um…I think it came with vegetables.”

Justin fights the urge to roll his eyes, leaning back in his chair and tuning out the rest of the conversation. Apparently he is now on a diet. Probably some kind of preparation for the wedding. She’d already called his personal trainer about upping his weight on his lifting days.

“Okay…I will…thanks Amelia…uh huh…buh bye.” Charlotte finishes, closing the phone and heaving a sigh as she sets the phone on the table next to her. “You wanna know the worst part of working for Amelia?” she asks and Justin looks at her, no longer in the mood.

“What?” he asks, trying to keep his voice pleasant.

“Keeping track of your every move,” she states simply and then grins smarmily at him and it’s enough to make him cough out a dry laugh despite himself.

“Working for me is so horrible?” he asks, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms over his chest, surveying her as she takes another sip of her soda.

“Awful really,” she replies with a sigh. “I may just have to call in sick tomorrow.”

“That serious huh?” he chuckles and she grins, nodding.

The waiter comes with their salads, setting them in front of them and bowing out quietly, Justin calling a quick “thanks Fred” over his shoulder before chuckling to himself. Charlotte giggles as well this time and he grins, unfolding his silverware from his napkin, placing it in his lap as he picks up his salad fork. He is just about to dig in when he hears it.

“Damn,” Charlotte mumbles and he looks up, his fork poised over his salad dish as he watches her poke the lettuce with her fork. “They gave me Ceasar.”

Justin’s entire body tenses, as his eyes fall on the creamy white dressing drizzled over her salad and he swallows hard. His mind stutters as he searches for a solution, working over possible actions to mollify her displeasure. He could call back the waiter, get a new salad. How long would that take? Maybe he could try and talk her into just eating it. Or in the very least charm her into not eating it and not complaining. Possibly… He’s just about to open his mouth to speak when she shrugs.

“Oh well,” she mutters, digging her fork into the salad and bringing it to her mouth, chewing slowly, her nose wrinkling only slightly.

He cannot speak. Memories of temper tantrums and livid silences fill his mind, snotty comments and threats of no tip, abrupt departures proclaimed by bitter “come on Justin we’re leaving” followed by his whispered apologies as he chases after her. He is utterly dumbfounded. Charlotte looks up at him and her chewing slows to a stop, an uncomfortable look crossing her face and he realizes he’s staring at her slack jawed. He snaps his mouth shut.

“Wow,” he breathes, still reveling in this new turn of events.

“What?” she asks, slightly embarrassed now and he shakes his head.

“Amelia,” he smiles tensely and that’s all he has to say, Charlotte nodding in understanding.

“Life is hard enough without having to be so stressed all the time,” she replies with a wave of her hand and he feels his jaw drop again. He thinks he hears the Hallelujah Chorus playing somewhere.

“Thank you,” he says suddenly, vehemently and the force of it surprises even him.

Charlotte chuckles. “You’re welcome.” She forks more salad into her mouth, shaking her head at him.

“So…” he says, taking a bite of his own. “What is the worst part of working for Amelia?” Charlotte tenses, keeping her eyes on her bowl. “You can tell me,” he adds. “Nothing leaves this table.”

Charlotte eyes him for a moment and he tries to keep his face open and friendly. He doesn’t really care what her answer is and he would never tell Amelia. Not in a million years. He just wants her to trust him. It really isn’t so much what her answer is as that she tells him. She sighs.

“Well,” she shifts in her seat, eyeing him one more time before watching her fork shuffle her food across her bowl. “Probably the…the tantrums.”

Justin grins. “I’m familiar with those,” he replies evenly, forking more salad into his mouth and she heaves a sigh of relief at his response. “Is it more stressful than your last job?”

Her eyes jerk to his and she immediately looks away again. “Um…in ways, yes.”

“Why?”

“Well, Amelia is more…” she pauses looking up at him, her eyes holding his as she slowly says. “demanding.”

Justin nods grinning. “I’m very familiar with that.”

They both laugh and it’s almost conspiratorial. There’s something freeing about finding someone you can be honest with, not having to worry about it getting around to anyone else. They fall into an easy silence then, eating quietly and Justin marvels at this new feeling. Charlotte knows Amelia for what she is, sees her everyday, knows her like he knows her. She doesn’t balk when he asks her to be honest. And she’s something else he’d almost completely forgotten existed in the opposite sex. She’s laid-back, easy going, and unfettered by minor inconveniences. She is the anti-Amelia.

 The clink of glass on glass breaks him from his reverie and he looks up to find Charlotte pushing her plate forward and scooting back from the table.

“I’m just gonna hit the ladies room before our food comes,” she explains as she stands and Justin nods, holding his tie against his chest, half standing until she walks away.

He sighs settling back in his chair and he’s just taking the last bite of his salad when Charlotte’s phone lights up, a jaunty polka tune blaring from it. He cringes, reaching for it and flipping it open to silence it. He’s just putting it to his ear when he hears a booming male voice exclaim:

“Charlie Beth!!! Angel baby honey bun…”

***

Charlotte is walking back to the table when she hears Justin’s slow lazy laugh. She can’t help but smile at the sound. There’s just something about his laugh. Maybe because she doesn’t hear it too often. It rumbles low in his chest, before ending in a high cough, a sigh escaping his lips and she finds him instantly in the sea of white tables. He’s sitting back casually in his seat, elbow resting on the back of his chair as he chats on the phone. He laughs again and she smiles at him as she moves to take her seat, noticing that, even though the food had arrived, his dish was untouched. He’d waited for her. He grins at her mischievously and that’s when she realizes….he’s talking on her phone.

“That’s great, Dan,” he chuckles and Charlotte’s eyes nearly explode out of her skull.

“Is that my dad?” she asks in a panicked whisper and Justin furrows his brow, holding one finger up for silence.

“Okay…yeah sure I’ll tell her,” Justin says, grinning at her and she just looks on helplessly. “And don’t forget those pictures. I’m counting on those.” He pauses and she hears her father’s deep voice and then Justin laughs again. “Okay Dan, good talkin’ to ya… Uh huh…buh bye.” He flips the phone closed and holds it out to her. “You’re dad is hilarious.”

“What pictures?” Charlotte asks, snatching her phone back from him and he sniffs airily.

“Oh I told him I needed some baby pictures for this Christmas game we’re playing at the office,” he says and Charlotte’s jaw drops. “It was a lie but now that I think about it, it sounds kinda fun. So we may actually do it.”

“You…I…” Charlotte stutters, annoyance simmering in her but its not as strong as it usually would have been. It’s almost physically impossible to stay mad at Justin.

“He just wanted to know if you’d talked to your boss about your flight yet,” he says easily. “I told him your boss was an asshole but he’d try to get you a departure date as soon as possible.” He grins cheekily and Charlotte’s eyes narrow.

“You’re impossible,” Charlotte spats without any real conviction and he just grins at her.

“And you Charlie Beth are just going to have to put up with it,” he smirks, reaching for his steak knife and beginning to cut up his meat.

“Alright, alright,” Charlotte says her eyes narrowed in suspicion. “What information did you pump from him?” she asks, reaching for her own fork and he grins. “You know you should be ashamed of yourself. Tricking an old man like that.”

“I didn’t trick nothin’” Justin says, playful insolence lacing his words. “He didn’t tell me much. Said you were named Charlotte Elizabeth after your grandmother and you sucked your thumb until you were four.”

“I loathe you,” Charlotte scowls and he bursts out laughing.

“He also said,” Justin pauses to pop a piece of steak into his mouth, smirking at her as he chews. “that this job is way more demanding than your old one and you deserve a raise.”

Charlotte’s cheeks pinken. “Oh god.”

“I’ll talk to Amelia about it,” he says and Charlotte is just about to open her mouth to protest but he continues. “He said he couldn’t imagine why you chose this job over your last one.”

Charlotte tenses. Her dad the big mouth.

“Why’d you leave your old job anyway?” Justin asks, bringing his drink to his lips and Charlotte nearly drops her fork. “I mean Amelia told me you were at Gauge-Whitney…which is apparently a big deal or something,” he waves his hand dismissively.

Charlotte coughs a disbelieving laugh. “It’s one of the foremost financial firms in Manhattan.”

“Really?” Justin asks, raising his eyebrows. “Impressive. So why’d you quit?”

Charlotte shifts in her seat. “I had…reasons.”

“I’m sure you did,” Justin says nodding as he shovels more food into his mouth, “but none that Amelia can find.”

Charlotte’s fork stops halfway to her lips. “What?”

Justin nods at her. “Oh yeah,” he says as if she should know this already. “It’s driving her fucking crazy. She can’t figure it out. She’s called your bosses, colleagues,” he chuckles. “Hell I think she even contacted some of your old professors.”

Charlotte’s jaw drops and an uncomfortable feeling washes over her. Amelia had been checking up on her? Then again had she really expected any less? How many times had she made phone calls to various managers and producers to check on the A&R guys working under Amelia? Too many to count.

“So why’d you quit?” Justin asks easily, forking more food into his mouth, his eyes trained on her and she shifts in her seat. His chewing slows when he takes in the uncomfortable look on her face. “You did quit right? You did because Amelia would have known. All your supervisors had great things to say about you… or so she said.”

“Yeah I didn’t have any problems with my boss,” Charlotte says, shaking her head and Justin’s eyes tighten as he regards her curiously.

They’re quiet for a moment and she contemplates telling him. What’s the worst that could happen? He thinks she’s an idiot. Well, he wouldn’t be the first. He’s not looking at her anymore, content to let her keep her secret and she smiles. He doesn’t push. She likes that.

“I didn’t like it,” she says suddenly and it surprises even herself. He looks up at her bewildered. “My job. I quit because I didn’t like it.” Charlotte sighs and it all just pours out. “I left a seventy-five thousand dollar a year job because I didn’t like it. Benefits…retirement plan…” Charlotte’s breathing hitches. “I didn’t like it.”

There’s a pause. “Why?” Justin asks and now it’s Charlotte’s turn to be shocked. She doesn’t speak. “Charlotte?” he says after a moment and she shakes her head.

“Sorry…no one,” she pauses chuckling to herself. “No one has every asked me that before.”

Justin’s eyebrows race to his hairline. “Really?”

“Yeah,” she breathes, her eyes falling to her nearly empty soda glass, “I was just…unhappy I guess. It wasn’t…wasn’t what I wanted.” She shakes her cup, the ice cubes tinkling against the glass. “So I quit.”

The waiter comes then, asking if they need anything, replacing Charlotte’s empty glass with a fresh one and scurries away quickly. The silence left in his wake is daunting and Charlotte finds she cannot raise her eyes.

“Wow,” he states simply and she looks up from her glass, expecting to see a look of disappointment, maybe confusion.

She is somewhat surprised when she finds neither. Quite the contrary, he actually looks impressed.

“I…I know it’s kinda weird,” Charlotte says, still a little worried by his less than standard reaction.

“No!” Justin exclaims, a wide grin pulling across his face. “No, I think it’s great! You know what you want.”

“Actually, that’s the thing,” Charlotte replies sheepishly. “I don’t…”

As she says this it’s as if a large weight has been lifted off her chest. To say the words out loud, to not keep them trapped inside her head where they just bounced around and amplify with each knock against her skull was strangely liberating. She smiles somewhat giddily.

“Well you know what you don’t want,” Justin says, keeping his eyes on her as he shovels some mashed potatoes into his mouth, swallowing before adding. “Which is just as important.” He pauses, reaching for his drink. “Maybe more.”

Charlotte hums in thought. She pauses, debating before saying, “Look…” she pauses again, unsure.

Justin brings his glass from his lips, looking at her curiously. Charlotte cringes.

“Don’t…don’t tell Amelia,” she says softly, fighting the blush that is creeping up her neck.

Justin blinks at her and then chuckles, sitting his glass down, shoulders tensing. That’s when Charlotte realizes she not only just asked him to keep a secret from her boss, but from his fiancé as well. She scrambles to explain.

“It’s just because I don’t think she would understand is all,” Charlotte says quickly and Justin holds up a hand, halting her words.

“You’re secret is safe with me,” he says and Charlotte heaves a sigh of relief. He grins. “Besides it’s too much fun watching Amelia try to figure it out. You know I think she’s about ready to hire a detective.”

Charlotte blanches. “She wouldn’t, would she?” That’s all she needs is for Amelia to start prodding deeper into her personal life.

“Nah,” Justin says waving his hand dismissively. “It’ll just drive her bonkers,” he grins, “She’ll never figure it out.” He seems almost gleeful at the thought.

“You think not?” Charlotte asks, bringing her soda to her lips and cringes. What is it with this city and diet soda?

“Nah, it’s too whimsical for her,” Justin says sighing. “Amelia is nothing if not practical,” he adds bitterly.

Charlotte nods in silent concession and picks up her fork, going back to her food. She feels almost naked now, her biggest secret laid out between them. She trusts that he won’t tell. He said he wouldn’t and his word is enough but still, she knows next to nothing about him.

 “Since....” she starts and he looks up at her, fork halfway to his mouth. “Since you know all about me now…” Charlotte smiles. “Can I ask you some questions?”

Justin tenses, his face pulling into a guarded expression. “Um…sure…yeah okay.” He chuckles, shifting slightly in his chair in nervous anticipation, wondering what she’s got up her sleeve.

Charlotte thinks for a moment, her eyes squinting as she picks her question. “What’s your favorite flavor of ice cream?”

He blinks at her, slightly shocked. “You wanna know what ice cream I like?”

Charlotte shrugs. “Yeah, why not?”

“Um…I dunno…it just seems so…” he pauses looking around, “innocuous.”

He chuckles, shaking his head as he pushes his food around on his plate for a moment before looking up at her. His face is smooth and reveals nothing of his thoughts or feelings. Charlotte almost wonders if he’s going to answer. He sighs then, almost as if in relief, relief that someone even wants to know something so trivial and he smiles, practically lighting up the entire room as he responds:

“I like vanilla.”

“Good morning, Ka-”

Charlotte stops short, poised to hang her coat on the rack by the door when she finds the front desk unoccupied. Her brow furrows as she looks around, confused. Kaitie is always there before her, a fact that Kaitie takes pride in and often points out in front of Amelia. She shrugs settling her coat on a hook; maybe she was running late. Kaitie was, contrary to popular belief, human and was just as likely to hit the snooze button as she herself was. Still Charlotte found it slightly odd to be here alone. Especially with all the preparations that had to be done before Amelia left for Memphis in three days.

Charlotte had been overjoyed to learn that Amelia and Justin would be leaving the city for Christmas. This meant that she could go home as well and even though she’d known for several weeks that their destination was Justin’s hometown she didn’t dare to hope too much. Amelia was known to change her mind and Charlotte was sure that Christmas in Tennessee didn’t exactly seem like her scene, the south of France maybe, but the American South, never. She had a hard time picturing Amelia in the country, but it was amusing to think about on slow days when all she was doing was answering the phone.

Amelia did little to conceal her disdain for going to see her future in-laws for the holidays whereas Justin seemed overjoyed to be going home. Charlotte still saw him nearly every day, running things back and forth between him and Amelia and of course he called her every morning for the weather report as became their ritual once she’d been relieved of her temporary duties as his assistant. The closer the departure date came the happier he seemed, thrilled to be leaving the city, to see his best friend Trace, and, much to Charlotte’s pleasant surprise, to see his mother. When he talked about finally being home again his face was priceless, much like Charlotte’s own face (or so she imagined) when she thought about going home.

In two days she was getting on a plane and leaving this godforsaken city for Pittsburgh where her intolerable older brother would pick her up in his not-squad car as promised numerous times by her father where he would probably frisk her in front of everyone at the baggage claim. But she could deal with that because as awful as Isaac was she missed his stupid practical jokes. She missed Paul’s constant whining about how he always got stuck in the rickety chair at dinner. She missed her dad’s booming laugh and her mother’s soft voice warbling only slightly off key as she made dinner. She couldn’t wait to be home.

Charlotte shakes her head and takes a few steps into the office, noticing for the first time that Amelia’s office door is open. She stops in her tracks, her stomach suddenly tightening and her mind beginning to race. What if someone was here? What if Kaitie was tied up somewhere and Charlotte would be the next victim? She should step out and go down to security, call the office, see if someone answers. This is the safe thing to do.

Just then her cell phone rings, the loud jaunty polka muted from inside of her purse but it’s still loud enough to wake the dead. She scrambles to answer it, her hands trembling and now she’s for sure found out. She hopes this murderer is quick…or at least not a rapist.

“Hello?” she asks, her voice trembling slightly as she eyes the open door to Amelia’s office, trying to discern any movement from inside.

“Hey Al! Should I wear my waterproof parka today or just the regular one?” Justin asks jovially and Charlotte cringes.

“I…I don’t know…” she replies and it’s quiet on the other line for a second.

“You okay? You sound freaked,” he says, his voice slightly concerned and Charlotte swallows hard.

“Um…I…I got here,” Charlotte whispers, backing slowly towards the door, reaching for the handle. “And…Kaitie isn’t here…and Amelia’s office door is open…and…” she trails, trying to turn the doorknob slowly so it won’t make a sound.

“Get out of there,” Justin says sternly and she can imagine him standing from his desk. “Go downstairs. I’ll be there in ten minutes….Charlotte?”

She doesn’t respond because a shadow has fallen across the floor of Amelia’s office and she’s frozen in her spot, one hand on the door, the other clutching the phone where Justin is shouting her name, his voice slightly panicked. She feels like she should scream but her vocal chords aren’t working at the moment.

Her stomach drops to her toes when she sees Amelia peer around the doorframe and she heaves a shaky sigh of relief. Justin is still prattling frantically in her ear and she swallows hard.

“It’s okay…JUSTIN…it’s okay. It was just Amelia,” Charlotte says, chuckling slightly at herself and her over reaction.

The line is silent for a moment. “God, get out while you still can!” he yells suddenly, his voice cracking in the middle and Charlotte bursts out laughing and so does he.

“Oh god is that Justin,” Amelia says rolling her eyes and disappearing back into her office.

“I have to go,” Charlotte says.

“Yeah, yeah so I’ll just stay in the dark about the parka…you go be mass murdered. Have fun,” Justin replies sarcastically and Charlotte sniggers.

“Good BYE Justin,” she says pointedly before flipping her phone shut and slipping it back into her purse.

She sighs, shaking her head as she drops her purse behind the front desk and goes about doing the morning routine. She moves to start the coffee pot but finds it’s already been done. She leans over, peering inside Amelia’s office and finds her at her desk, her mug at her elbow as she browses the mail. The newspapers and magazines are already on her desk as well. Charlotte’s face crumples in confusion. There is no way Amelia did all these things herself.

“Charlotte, get me the RIAA fax from yesterday,” Amelia calls with a sigh and Charlotte shuffles to the filing cabinet, locating the proper document before scurrying into Amelia’s office.

She hands her the paper, pausing when she sees the time on the clock on the bookshelf. Kaitie is really late. That wasn’t like her. Maybe she was attacked on her way to work. Charlotte shakes her head. What is wrong with her today?

“Was there something you needed?” Amelia asks, her voice slightly annoyed and Charlotte realizes she’s been standing next to her for longer than was customary.

“Oh, no,” Charlotte says, shaking her head. “I was just wondering where Kaitie was. She’s usually here by now…I didn’t know if we should be worried or not.”

Amelia snorts. “Kaitie is no longer employed here.”

Charlotte’s jaw drops. She scans Amelia’s perfect face for any sign of regret but finds only smugness and slight annoyance, which only means one thing. Kaitie didn’t quit. She was fired. But why, Charlotte wonders. She thought for sure that she herself would be let go before Kaitie. Kaitie was so…perfect. She was always impeccably dressed, not a hair out of place. She catered to Amelia’s every whim, agreeing with her no matter what the topic.

“Why?” Charlotte finds herself asking before she can stop the word from falling out of her mouth and Amelia doesn’t even look up as a wicked smile tugs at her lips.

“I had to let her go,” Amelia sighs in what is supposed to be a sound of sadness but underneath there is unadulterated glee. She brings her eyes up, locking them on Charlotte’s as she continues. “I don’t tolerate leaks.”

Every word is carefully pronounced, underscoring her point perfectly and Charlotte almost trembles under the weight of her stare. Amelia turns back to her paperwork and Charlotte blinks a few times, trying to unstick her feet from the floor. She nods mutely, whether Amelia sees or not she isn’t sure, and turns to leave.

“You remember my first wedding gown?” Amelia asks airily and Charlotte stops in her tracks turning to face the desk again. Amelia is still flipping through documents, seemingly unfettered by anything.

Charlotte blinks. “Yes,” she says and then because she doesn’t know where this is going she adds, “It was lovely.”

“Kaitie went with me for my fitting,” Amelia says, jotting down a few notes and turning a page. “You remember, it was one of your first days working for me. Three days later ten thousand dollars cleared her bank account from Wenner Media. Do you know what Wenner Media’s main avenue of business is?”

Charlotte cannot speak to answer. Not so much from the shock of what Amelia said but from that fact that she had access to Kaitie’s bank records. Was there nothing Amelia couldn’t get her hands on?

“Magazine publication,” Amelia replies, leaning back in her chair and threading her fingers over her flat stomach. “They print Rolling Stone, Men’s Health,” she pauses, her eyes boring into Charlotte’s, “and Us Weekly.

“I’ve had my suspicions for a while,” Amelia sighs, reaching for a stack of papers on her desk. “And then when you and Justin were ambushed by the paparazzi a few weeks ago another ten grand appeared in her account, this time from TMZ.” She sighs shaking her head. “I knew something had to be done. I let her go this morning.”

“I’m so sorry,” Charlotte says softly, not really sure what to say in the situation because frankly it was like something out of a soap opera. Ten thousand dollars for a picture of a wedding dress, for the whereabouts of a former pop star and his assistant? It seemed so ridiculous.

“No matter,” Amelia says waving her hand. “It just means that you’ll have to take over for a while.”

Charlotte’s face blanches. She’ll have to take over? How could she possibly do more than she was? Between answering phones, ferrying documents here and there, accompanying Amelia on business lunches, meetings, and power-shopping hours she couldn’t fathom running all her menial errands as well.

“And of course you’ll need to screen for a new assistant,” Amelia adds and Charlotte fights the urge to throw her hands in the air. “I’m thinking of hiring two actually, one strictly to answer the phones and then another to be my second assistant. You will of course be promoted to first. Justin had said something about you wanting a raise.”

“I never said that,” Charlotte says quickly and Amelia looks up raising an eyebrow.

“Well, I hope you’re not too disappointed when you get your check then,” she replies sarcastically and Charlotte flushes.

“Thank you, Amelia,” she says forcing an uncomfortable smile.

“The temp agency is sending a few girls here later,” Amelia replies looking back down at the papers in front of her and then adds, “I want at least one position filled before I leave for Memphis.” She spits the last word as if it was vile and she could barely stand to have it on her tongue for even an instant.

Charlotte cringes. “Um, okay but…” she trails when Amelia looks up at her, her blue eyes boring holes into her. Charlotte swallows hard. “My…my flight leaves Thursday at five. I’ll do my best to-”

Charlotte is cut off by Amelia’s tinkling laughter. “Charlotte, dear,” she clears her throat as if she expected not to have to be telling Charlotte this. “You’re flight leaves Friday morning at 9. Because my flight leaves Friday morning at nine.”

Charlotte’s face falls, her stomach curling painfully. “Wh-what?”

 “Since Kaitie is no longer with us that only leaves you. A town car will pick you up at seven.” She looks down and then looks up at her, her face pulled into a grimace. “You still live in the Bronx right?” She almost shudders.

“But…” Charlotte starts and Amelia raises an eyebrow. “But…I was…my family…”

“Will understand,” Amelia says flippantly, and Charlotte nods solemnly, clenching her teeth as she turns to leave. “Oh Charlotte…”

She turns to face her boss, forcing the tears from her eyes and gritting out a tight smile. She would not cry. She would not cry. She would not cry…

“This needs to go to Justin,” she says, handing Charlotte a thick magazine from the corner of her desk. “I’ve put post-it notes on the pages of arrangements I like. Yellow is definite, blue is maybe, and green is for maybe, maybe not.”

Charlotte takes it from her and turns, Amelia muttering not so much as a thank you in her wake. No Christmas in Cannonsburg. No fake arrest at the baggage claim. No fighting over seats at dinner. No family viewing of It’s A Wonderful Life. She crushes the magazine to her chest as she leaves the office, not even bothering with her coat. She’s holding onto the booklet for dear life, her fingers wrapping tightly around the edges, crumpling Amelia’s little post-it note flags and she doesn’t care.  She’s beyond caring at this point.

The ride to Justin’s office is quick, much quicker than she would have liked. She was hoping to be stuck in traffic for a while, just leaning her head back against the cool leather seat of the town car, mourning her lost family Christmas. She had hoped for at least enough time to effectively swallow the lump in her throat but New York City traffic was not on her side this morning. She made it to Justin’s office in a little under ten minutes.

She takes the elevator up to his office, trying to mentally prepare herself. She is not in the mood for his jokes right now. As childish as it is, she blames him. Blames him for asking this horrible woman to marry him, for being famous and attracting enough attention that someone would pay an assistant ten thousand dollars for the inside scoop on his life.

She knows it’s childish and she knows it’s irrational. But all she wanted was to go home for Christmas, to see her family. She shakes her head, stepping off of the elevator and opening the door to Justin’s offices. Of course Felicity is nowhere to be found as she steps inside. She sighs, her annoyance reaching its boiling point as she knocks quickly on Justin’s door, not even waiting for a response before pushing it open.

The magazine nearly slips from her fingers as she sees Justin leaning casually against the front of his desk, his jacket discarded on a nearby chair, with Patti standing close in front of him, her sky high heels planted on either side of his ankles as her hands work on the tie at his throat. Patti turns suddenly, probably at the sound of Charlotte’s gasp and Justin peers over her shoulder, his eyes widening as he sees Charlotte standing stock still in the doorway. They bolt apart like opposing sides of a magnet, putting five feet between them, Patti smoothing her hair back from her temple, Justin running his hands down the front of his slacks. Charlotte looks at the floor.

“I-I-I’m sorry,” she stutters, her stomach twisting in knots as she shifts from foot to foot awkwardly.

“No problem,” Patti says, her voice somewhat manic as she stumbles over her own feet in her haste to get to the door. “The tie looks good, Justin. And think about that seating arrangement.”

“Thanks,” he says, smoothing it down his chest, clearing his throat and scratching his ear nervously. “I will.”

“Charlotte,” Patti says by way of greeting and goodbye as she brushes past her and Charlotte merely nods in response, feet rooted to the floor.

The sound of the front office door closing sounds like a cannon in the near silent room. Charlotte refuses to look at Justin, refuses to meet his eyes. So Amelia was right. In that moment she hates all of them. Hates Amelia for being such a fucking bitch, for thinking so little of him. Hates Justin for not rising above it, for fucking anything in a short skirt. She thought she knew him. Disappointment tastes bitter in her mouth.

“You got something for me?” Justin asks, his tone jovial and it almost hurts her ears.

A punch in the mouth. “A magazine from Amelia,” she takes a cautious step forward as he moves around his desk, flopping back in his chair as she hands it to him.

“Martha Stuart Living?” Justin asks in mock interest. He gasps. “The floral issue. Oh Charlie you shouldn’t have. It’s too much!” He grins. Charlotte forces a bitter smile back at him. His brow furrows. “Why the long face, Al? Your Doppler radar machine broken?”

You’re playing into Amelia’s evil plan by fucking the bimbo wedding planner, you utter moron. “Amelia fired Kaitie,” and she can’t help adding bitterly, “but I’m sure you knew that.”

Justin’s frown deepens. “No… no I didn’t know that,” he drops the magazine onto his desk and leans back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. “She tell you why?”

“Apparently she sold Amelia’s first wedding dress to some magazine and then she told those photographers where to find you when you were getting your tux fitted-”

“Are you fucking serious?” he asks, and Charlotte looks up to find his face a hard mask of anger. “God I didn’t think she was like that,” he mutters to himself and Charlotte can’t help but wonder if he’s been banging Kaitie too.

“Yes, it’s just tragic,” Charlotte replies, barely masking the sarcasm in her voice and she looks at Justin to find him confused by her tone. He almost looks hurt but she’s sure it’s just her imagination.

“You okay?” he asks carefully, his eyes cautious and he has that look on is face that he gets when he’s trying to gauge Amelia’s mood.

“I’m fine,” Charlotte says, forcing what she hopes is a brilliant smile and his eyebrows raise, unfooled.

“You’re not fine Charlotte,” he says, his voice gentle and she sighs, falling into a chair across from him.

“I’ve been promoted,” she says, her voice dull and Justin grins.

“Don’t sound too excited there kiddo,” he teases and Charlotte’s eyes well suddenly.

The memory hits her quickly and she’s in the middle of her front yard, the sky a hazy gray above her. She’s four years old, sitting on the sidewalk, clutching her baby doll to her chest, wide eyes looking up at the sky. A drop falls directly into her eye, stinging and she snaps them shut, tilting her chin down and shaking her head. She presses her fingers to her doll’s lids, forcing them down but they won’t stay, fluttering open, in danger of being attacked by the droplets as well. And then she hears it as clear as if it were just yesterday. “Come on kiddo, it’s starting to rain.”

Her dad always called her kiddo. She doesn’t speak, locking her jaw tight, not trusting herself to even blink. She stares at her hands in her lap, her knuckles blurred as she fights the tears. She will not cry. She will not cry. She will not cry.

“Hey,” Justin says softly, and she can hear him standing from his chair. He can’t come near her. She doesn’t want him near her. The cheating lying bastard.

He kneels beside her chair and she can feel his hand resting on the arm. She crosses her arms, keeping away from his touch. He doesn’t reach out to her. She hears him clear his throat and feels him shift next to her.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, his voice tender and she shakes her head. She cannot speak. She will not cry. “Okay… well…you were promoted. Congratulations!” he exclaims and she snorts, an unwilling laugh pulling from her throat. He continues, encouraged. “Now that Kaitie’s gone you’ve got the run of the office. Seniority. Hey, you’ll have minions you can boss around! That’ll be fun!” She laughs again, despite herself. Damn him. He continues. “And you’ll be Amelia’s right hand man…er woman…wait that’s not exactly a perk…” he trails and she finally chances a glance at him, finding his face pulled into a look of revelation, his mouth forming a silent “oh” of understanding. “You have to go to Memphis with us.”

Charlotte nods, looking down at her hands again, squeezing her finger tight as the well of emotion pushes behind her eyes again. She inhales a shaky breath and she hears Justin make a small sound of pity in his throat, his hand moving to rest on her shoulder sympathetically. She tenses and he moves it immediately.

“Look, I’ll talk to Amelia okay,” he says softly and she chances a look at him. He gives her a small smile of encouragement. “She doesn’t need an assistant out there anyway.”

Charlotte nods, sniffing as softly as possible, her cheeks reddening at the show of emotion. He leans forward, snatching a tissue from the box on his desk and offers it to her. She takes it, smiling still slightly embarrassed as she wipes her nose. He pats her shoulder again before standing and moving back around his desk, reaching for the magazine, leafing through it with a sigh.

“Flowers huh?” he asks, looking utterly bored as he flips through the pages.

“Hard hitting journalism right there,” Charlotte quips, balling up her tissue and dropping it in the trash can next to his desk. Justin chuckles before heaving a sigh. “I…I better get back,” she says after a moment, hauling herself out of the chair. “I have applicants to screen.”

Justin sniggers. “Good luck with that,” he says dryly. “And congratulations on the promotion.”

“Thanks,” Charlotte replies with a sigh, moving towards the door.

“Oh, Charlotte,” he says and she stops, turning to find him looking at her uncertainly. “You…you know that…that nothing was going on…with Patti earlier.” He straightens his tie nervously.

Charlotte blushes furiously. “Um…yeah! Yeah, of course. Mum’s the word.” She grits her teeth. You utter bastard.

“Well, thanks,” he says, chuckling slightly. “It doesn’t really matter.” Then his face turns serious. “But really…she was just straightening my tie. You believe me…” his eyes search her face uncertainly. “right?”

“Of course,” Charlotte replies, forcing a smile and he returns it uneasily, leaning back in his chair and opening the magazine again. She turns to leave, cursing him silently.

“Oh Charlie,” he calls and she turns again with a sigh, eyeing him in a way that she hopes doesn’t show how irritated she actually is. He holds up the magazine. “What do the post-its mean?”

“Oh the greens are definites, blues are maybes, and yellows are the maybe, maybe nots,” she says in a fit of childish hostility. Let’s see how Amelia takes to him liking all the ones she really didn’t care for. Serves him right the bastard.

“Thanks Charlie,” he says with a sigh examining the open page carefully. “And don’t worry about Christmas. I have it completely under control.”

***

“Charlotte do you have my small bag? I didn’t see it on the cart – No we’ll be gone for a week…yes I understand that you’re new but how hard is it to locate the proper file. Look under R…for Rolling Stone,” Amelia sighs, switching her phone to her other ear and looking back over her shoulder, finding Charlotte struggling to pull her suitcase as well as carry two of Amelia’s.

“Here lemme help you,” Justin says, falling back to stand next to her, shouldering one of Amelia’s carry-ons over his own and Charlotte sighs. He lowers his voice. “I’m really sorry. I tried-”

“Don’t worry about it,” Charlotte says quickly, switching her tote bag to her now free shoulder and sighing, beginning to walk again.

It was true he’d done everything he possibly could have to get Amelia to let her go. Offered to bring Felicity instead, sent her flowers, even had her mother talk to Amelia about it but she would not budge. His fervor for the task had worn Charlotte down to the point where she wasn’t even really mad at him anymore. Especially when as a last resort and in a harrowing display of masculinity he threw the biggest fit Charlotte had ever seen from a man. He rivaled Amelia which was really saying something. Then again he had learned from the best.

“Will you two hurry up, we’re going to be late,” Amelia says from down the hallway, slipping her phone in her purse.

“Honey, it’s a private flight. I doubt they’re gonna leave without us,” Justin replies and Amelia just glares at him, crossing her arms over her chest as she waits.

Charlotte can’t help but marvel at her, standing tall in four inch heels, her charcoal pencil skirt hugging her thighs perfectly. Her pale pink sweater accentuates the rose of her cheeks and the soft pout of her lips, her butter cream blond hair tied back in a chic bun. Even Justin next to her looks dashing in pressed khakis and a soft, cotton polo. Charlotte feels horribly inadequate in her sweatpants and hooded sweatshirt.

“We have a scheduled flight time,” Amelia responds as they approach and Charlotte looks around, wondering exactly what they’re doing.

“The guy isn’t even here yet,” Justin replies, stifling a yawn and reaching down to adjust himself in his khakis as discreetly as possible.

“Quit that,” Amelia whispers slapping his arm and he rolls his eyes, hiking the bags higher on his shoulder.

“Why are we leaving so early again?” Justin asks, yawning again into the back of his hand, finally letting the bags slip to the floor, rolling his neck on his shoulders.

“What…” Amelia begins and Charlotte looks over at her when she doesn’t continue, finding Amelia eyeing her bag, her nose wrinkled in disgust. “What on earth is that?”

Charlotte glances down at the black canvas tote on her shoulder and then glances back at Amelia who has stepped forward to run her finger along the green stitching of her name, Charlotte Elizabeth, between where the handles were attached. Charlotte swallows hard.

“Is this…is this your purse?” Amelia asks, gripping the sides and stretching the fabric tight. She lets go and rubs her fingers together as if the canvas came off on her hands, sullying her perfect skin.

“That’s cute,” Justin says, nodding. “Does it say ‘Al’ on the other side?”

“My…my mom made it for me,” Charlotte says, her cheeks pinkening when Amelia’s eyebrows rush to her hairline. “She stitched the lettering I mean. She sent my Christmas presents early…so I’d have them for the trip.”

“That’s….sweet,” Amelia says, forcing a smile and Charlotte wishes the floor would swallow her whole.

“Yeah cool,” Justin says, running his fingers along the stitching, and Charlotte can tell he actually means it. “Does she sew golf bags? I want my name on my golf bag. Or…” His eyes light up, bouncing on the balls of his feet excitedly. “Or…Golf God.” He sweeps his arm out in front of him as if seeing it in front of his very eyes, sighing whimsically.

Charlotte laughs and Amelia looks at him as if he was insane, shaking her head. Justin grins at both of them, throwing his arms around their necks and Charlotte tenses, Amelia groaning and trying to wriggle away from him. He kisses Amelia’s forehead hard, giving them both a squeeze before letting go and picking up the bags again. Amelia narrows her eyes at him, rubbing her forehead before sighing and patting his shoulder affectionately.

“Hey look our escort!” he says as a short, harassed looking man hurries up to them. “Hey Tom how ya doin?”

“Sorry for the wait,” he says, chancing a quick glance at Amelia. “If you’ll just follow me?”

They follow him down a hallway and through a door and Charlotte tenses as the bitter December wind blows right through her sweatshirt, the empty plain of the tarmac doing little to shield the blustery air. They’re walking quickly towards a small plane, the engine humming louder and louder as they approach. Amelia climbs the stairs, quickly disappearing inside and Justin after her. Charlotte follows and nearly gasps at the sight of what looks like a mix between a board room and a living room, a large meeting table with six leather chairs surrounding it directly in front of her and then a little ways behind it a small living area with a large leather couch and chair, a massive flat screen TV on the far wall. Amelia settles at the large table, pulling her computer and portfolio planner out of her bag.

“You’re gonna work?” Justin asks dropping his bag next to the table and plopping down in a seat beside her.

“Yes, Justin, I have a lot to do. We’re short handed at the office as you well know,” Amelia says with a sigh and Justin nods.

“Hey Charlie flick on the TV will ya,” he asks as Charlotte shuffles past them. “See if there’s a game on.”

“What kind of game?” Charlotte asks dropping her bags with a thud next to the large leather armchair, looking around for the remote.

“I dunno. As long as it’s a sport I don’t care,” he grins and Charlotte shakes her head, finding the remote and flicking the TV on.

“SportsCenter?” Charlotte asks scrolling through the menu.

“Perfect,” he says, squinting at the television as Charlotte falls into the large chair, her body sinking in comfortably.

They’re quiet for a moment, listening to the announcers talk in animated voices on the television. The plane jerks into motion and Charlotte tenses, feeling the jet taxi along the runway. Taking off always makes her nervous, the jostle and force with which an airplane hurled itself down a runway and that moment in which the wheels leave the tarmac and they’re launched into the air curling her stomach. She doesn’t unclench her hands until they’re safely coasting at 28,000 feet.

“I looked at those flowers,” Justin says, tugging the magazine out of his bag and Charlotte tenses. “I really liked the ones on page twenty-four.”

“Um…Justin?” she says quietly but Amelia is already looking at the page he has open to her.

She wrinkles her nose. “You like those?”

“Yeah,” Justin beams, looking very pleased with the fact the he liked the same thing as Amelia for once.

“I don’t know,” Amelia says, flicking through the pages and opening it to another page. “You don’t like this one?”

“You don’t like that one.” Justin states, eyeing her confused and Amelia blinks at him. “It has a yellow post-it.”

Amelia rolls her eyes. “The yellow post-its are the ones I like. The green post-its are the one’s I don’t like. Honestly, Justin…” she sighs and then glances at Charlotte. “Didn’t Charlotte tell you that?”

Justin glances over at Charlotte and her eyes meet his briefly, feeling as if the guilt was going to eat her alive. He just looks at her for a moment before giving a slight nod of his head, his face revealing nothing.

“Yeah,” he says turning back to Amelia. “I must have gotten it mixed up…”

Amelia scoffs, rolling her eyes again. Charlotte’s nails bite into her palms as she waits for her to berate him but it doesn’t come. She tells herself that if Amelia had thrown a fit she would have confessed. But this does little to quell her guilt.

“I’m so glad we’re doing this,” Justin says and Charlotte looks over to find him watching Amelia, a pleasant expression on his face. Amelia hums, unlistening. “It’s been too long since I’ve been home.”

Amelia hums a response.

“You know I haven’t even seen Rachel’s baby yet!” Justin exclaims with a sigh. “The kid’s already nine months old! And Trace has some new sketches for the Spring line he says are just amazing.”

“That’s nice dear,” Amelia mutters, leaning down to search in her bag.

“God I can't wait to see my granny....we're gonna have peach cobbler and blackberry pie and apple crumb cake-”

Amelia snorts as she rights herself again, muttering “- and a heart attack.”

Justin grins gleefully. “Guh it’s gonna be great.”

“Yes, great,” Amelia replies with no enthusiasm whatsoever.

“Hey we should stop at the General Store on the way back. Get a burger or-”

“Justin!” Amelia says finally, sighing and looking at him perturbed. “I’m trying to work.”

He frowns. “Sorry,” he mumbles and sighs as he pulls himself from the chair and trudges over to the couch, stretching his lanky frame across it.

He squirms, trying to get comfortable, toeing off his sneakers, wiggling his socked toes. He peeks over the back of the couch finding Amelia immersed in paperwork, not paying him any attention. He reaches down, untucking his polo and stretching languidly, sighing contentedly as he relaxes completely. His eyes focus on the television, his arms dangling over his head and he yawns.

“Justin,” Charlotte says softly, glancing to make sure Amelia isn’t listening and he glances briefly at her before turning back to the television. “I… I’m sorry…about the-”

“Everyone makes mistakes,” he says shrugging his shoulders unaffectedly and it only makes her feel worse.

“No…really I-”

“Hey,” he says, looking at her and his eyes hold hers as much as she wishes she could look away she can’t. “It’s not a big deal.” He lowers his voice. “I’m not her. I’m not upset.”

He smiles at her and nods and she knows he’s telling the truth. He doesn’t think she did it on purpose, just that it was a slip of her overworked mind. He knows she wouldn’t do something like that. She feels as if she could be sick.

“It won’t happen again,” she says and she means it. She needs to say it even if he doesn’t fully understand.

He shrugs. “You ever been to Tennessee, Charlie?” Justin asks lazily and Charlotte glances at him, finding his eyes heavy as he watches the television.

“Nope,” she says, smiling at the way he looks just like a little kid trying to stay awake before nap time. “First time.”

He grins lazily. “Don’t worry we’ll be gentle.”

“Brake!” Amelia’s voice is manic as Justin maneuvers the sleek white Mercedes around a sharp curve, the car jostling over bumps in the backcountry road.

And so it starts…

Charlotte slides a little farther down on the leather seats, turning towards the window. The landscape is a mix of brown and white, barren trees and brittle glass all covered in a thin dusting of snow, the sky a steely gray color. Amelia sits in the front passenger seat as Justin drives, giving him pointers until finally as they were turning onto highway 51 he mentioned that she didn’t even have a driver’s license and she had sat in stony silence for the past fifteen minutes. That is until they left the highway and were traveling down back roads.

“Babe,” Justin says laughing, joy radiating off him like an aura as he takes another curve, zipping around it and causing Amelia to grip her seat tightly. “I learned how to drive on these roads! I know them like the back of my hand.”

“You learned to drive in Florida,” Amelia says, gasping as they clear a steep hill and Charlotte grins as her stomach drops.

She always loved that feeling. Her mother would kill her if she ever found out that one of her and Paul’s favorite pastimes was jumping hills when he first got his driver’s license was jumping hills. The feeling of freedom as the car crested the hill and for less than half a second you were airborne, your stomach doing summersaults. She remembered the feel of her barely contained scream in the back of her throat and then Paul’s howl of triumph as the tires touched back down, both of them laughing, the windows down, the radio up. She stares out the window at the brown country side, bare trees and evergreen bushes rolling by and she misses home. She fights the lump in her throat as she thinks of her mother and father, how crushed they were when she had told them she wouldn’t be coming. Even Isaac had sounded disappointed, whether it was because he wouldn’t get to drive her through town with the sirens blaring or he really missed her she wasn’t entirely sure but the regret in his voice was enough to make her stomach turn in guilt.

“I did not,” Justin argues lightly, turning down another winding road and Charlotte notices the houses are getting larger.

“Excuse me,” Amelia replies turning in her seat to look at him. “You were sixteen so you were with your little boy group. In Florida. Where it never snowed-Justin be careful!” she exclaims as he twists the car around a tight curve.

“It’s not snowing!” Justin exclaims, ignoring her protests and Charlotte leans her head against the cool glass of the windshield, misery settling in. She gave up Christmas with her family for this?

“There is snow on the ground which means there could be ice on the road. Why you didn’t just get a driver-”

Justin sighs, his voice tired and low. “They don’t have driving services in Millington, Amelia.”

“Which is just one of the many reasons we don’t live here,” Amelia replies snottily, crossing her arms over her chest and glaring out the window.

Justin’s knuckles turn white as he grips the steering wheel, gritting his teeth to keep his mouth shut. He takes a deep breath and lets off the gas as he goes around the next curve, taking it slower than he normally would have. He glances at Charlotte in the rearview mirror to find her staring morosely out her window, her forehead resting against the glass and he sighs. He always hated spending Christmas away from his family too.

Charlotte’s head rolls to the side and she catches sight of Justin’s eyes watching her in the rearview mirror. He looks back at the road quickly but not quick enough for her to miss the expression of pity on his face. She feels a blush creep up her neck. She shouldn’t mope. She should try and make the best of this situation.

“Your turn is coming up,” Amelia says pointing at the GPS and Justin turns his head to look at her, blinking slowly.

Something tells her that’s going to be easier said than done.

“Amelia,” he says chuckling slightly in disbelief as the car slows and Charlotte peers out the window at the large brick house they are approaching. “I’ve lived here since I was four years old.”

Charlotte’s eyes rove over the great French Provincial home, the bricked driveway climbing towards the three car garage at a slight incline. White twinkle lights wrap around garland that hangs in draped ropes along the stair-stepped retaining walls lining the drive, the small lights winking at them in the midmorning gloom. Justin pulls in, parking next to a dark gray BMW and he shuts off the car, stepping out almost immediately. Amelia grumbles something inaudible as she climbs wearily out of the car and Charlotte slides out, slightly uncertain as to what she should be doing.

“Charlotte, pop the trunk,” Amelia says offhandedly as she strides after Justin. “Justin, the bags!” She sighs when he doesn’t turn, just hurries quickly along the brick walkway.

Charlotte is moving around to the driver’s side of the car, opening the door and searching for the trunk button when she hears the sound of a front door opening. She looks back and sees a woman in her late forties, trotting down the small sidewalk, her blond curly hair pulled back in a tight ponytail. She smiles as if it was already Christmas morning and Charlotte recognizes that smile. It’s the exact same as Justin’s.

“There’s my son!” she exclaims as she throws her arms open and Justin wraps his arms around her, enveloping her against him and they stay that way for a long moment.

“Hey Momma,” he drawls softly, kissing her cheek and Charlotte turns away as the lump returns to her throat. What she would give to hug her mother right now.

“Amelia,” Justin’s mother says jovially but it doesn’t hold the warmth it did when she addressed her son.

“Hey Lynn,” Amelia replies, forcing a smile as she crosses her arms tightly over her chest.

“Well would you look at you,” Lynn says with a sigh as she surveys Justin’s slim frame. “You look good!” She tugs the sleeve of his wool coat. “This is nice.”

“I had that sent from Milan, isn’t it just wonderful,” Amelia says, reaching to dust his shoulder. “He doesn’t like it.” Amelia sighs.

Justin blushes as his mother looks up at him with a raised eyebrow. “It’s bulky,” he says scrunching and unscrunching his shoulders. Amelia frowns and his stomach tightens. “I…I mean I thought so at first. I like it now.”

Lynn’s eyes narrow just slightly but she merely pats his shoulder, keeping her hand there and he smiles. Her attention is pulled to the car where Charlotte is moving around to open the trunk all the way, scratching her head as she surveys the luggage packed tightly into the small space.

“Is that Charlotte?” Lynn asks and he turns to see Charlotte struggling to tug one of Amelia’s bags out of the trunk.

He sighs. “Yeah- Hey Charlie I’ll get that,” he hollers, trotting over to her and smiling warmly at her as he pulls the bag easily from the trunk. “Come here I want you to meet my mother.”

“Do ya’ll need some help?” Lynn asks, her soft southern drawl coming from directly behind him and Charlotte turns and notes that her soft blue eyes are the same shade as Justin’s.

“We got it, Mom,” Justin says, heaving another bag out and setting it on the driveway with a thump, heaving a sigh. “This is Charlotte Jenson,” Justin says turning to face them and Charlotte smiles awkwardly. “Charlotte this is my mother, Lynn Harless,” he grins as one of his arms slips around her waist.

“Pleasure to meet you,” Charlotte says extending her hand and Lynn grasps it giving her a dazzling smile.

“You too, honey,” Lynn says and then moves to grab a bag from the trunk.

“Mom,” Justin says warningly. “Stop, I got it.”

“You want me to get your dad?” Lynn asks eyeing the trunk wearily and then glancing back at Amelia who’s standing stiffly by the front steps. “Did she bring her whole wardrobe?”

Justin snorts. “Are you kidding me, this is packing light for Amelia.”

They all waddle their way to the front door, Lynn insisting on helping and threatening to whip Justin if he protested one more time. His mouth snapped shut and his ears turned red, glancing at Charlotte who giggled softly. He ducked his head grabbing a few bags and scurrying towards the door.

They step inside and Charlotte looks around, taking in the high vault of the ceiling, the tall second story window filtering in the gray morning light. Floral arrangements adorn cherry wood side tables and plush Persian rugs warm the deep hardwood floors. The foyer opens to the left into a sunken living room, a grand piano nestled against large windows overlooking the side lawn, a fireplace on the east wall. There’s a dining room on the right with dark burgundy walls and deep cherry wood furnishings, the table luxuriously set. A carpeted staircase opens in front of them climbing up to the balconied second story, hallways on either side and for all the grandeur it exudes this aura of hominess and even though Charlotte has only been here for only a few minutes she feels comfortable here.

She’s startled as a sound like thunder pulls from the depths of the house, the scratching of claws on hard surface echoing off the walls and Charlotte’s eyes widen as two large dogs come tearing from the hallway to the left of the stairs, hurdling toward them at breakneck speed. Amelia lets out a shrill scream as they skid to a stop in front of her and Justin grins widely cooing at them as he bends over to rub their ears and pat their backs.

“Aw they missed you, J,” Lynn says reaching to take Charlotte and Amelia’s coats.

“Justin take off your coat. You’re going to get dog hair all over it,” Amelia scolds softly, scoffing as one of the mammoth animals licks Justin’s face enthusiastically.

Justin just laughs, rubbing the dogs face and nuzzling their noses together. “Don’t listen to Amelia, Brennan,” he says holding the dog’s face in his hands. “She’s just jealous.”

“I assure you I’m not,” Amelia replies dryly and Justin sighs shrugging off his coat and handing it to his mother, reaching down to scratch the other dog’s stomach.

“Buckleeeeeeey!” he coos scratching the dog’s ribs, laughing when Buckley’s leg starts to jiggle.

“Everybody’s here,” Lynn says with a smile as she finishes putting their coats away in the front closet.

“Granny and Granddad?” Justin asks, standing to his full height again and Lynn nods.

“And Rachel and Brad and the baby and-”

“It’s about goddamn time you showed up you sorry ass motherfucker!!!”

Charlotte nearly jumps out of her skin and Amelia gasps, reaching up to clutch her throat in alarm as a short man with dark wavy hair strolls into the entry way. Justin’s face breaks into a wide grin that mimics the one on the other mans face and they reach out to embrace, clapping each other hard on the back and they pull back laughing.

“Jesus,” the other man exclaims, eyeing the pile of bags around their feet. “You going on tour or something?”

Justin chuckles still beaming. “Nah it’s Amelia’s.” He waves a hand dismissively and Amelia huffs.

The other man’s smile turns hard, looking almost like a cringe as his eyes fall on Amelia who looks at him with barely veiled disdain.

“Amelia!” he says with forced enthusiasm. “Think you brought enough shit?”

“I like to be prepared, Tracey” Amelia smirks and the other man narrows his eyes. “Good to see that you’re still as…” she pauses looking him up and down, casting her disapproving gaze on his blue jeans and t-shirt. “unrefined as ever.” She gives him a tart smile.

“Now let’s not get to name callin,” he responds a wicked grin pulling across his face. “I wouldn’t wanna have to call you R-”

“Trace,” Justin exclaims with a nervous chuckle. “You’ve never met Charlotte. Charlotte,” he gestures to her and then grins. “This is my best friend, Trace. Trace this is Charlotte.”

Trace eyes her for a moment before extending his hand “Pleasure to meet you Charlotte.” Charlotte grasps it firmly and he smiles, his eyes flicking to Justin briefly and then back to her. “You Justin’s new girlfriend or something?”

Charlotte’s eyes go wide and she snatches her hand back and even though Trace is smirking, clearly enjoying the annoyance on Amelia’s face, she can’t help the rush of panic that runs through her.

“She’s my assistant,” Amelia snaps, glaring at him.

Trace’s eyes widen and he snorts. “You brought an assistant?”

“Trace,” Lynn chastises under her breath and he looks at the floor.

“Come on Trace,” Justin says, his tone mocking as he curls his arm around Amelia’s shoulder, tugging her against his chest. “Amelia’s got a lot going on. All important and shit.” He drops a kiss on her cheek and she bristles.

“Don’t curse,” she mutters and he presses his lips together, looking at the floor. Trace looks like he wants to laugh but thinks better of it.

“Trace, what are you doing?”

It’s a high girlish voice that echoes from the right hallway and Charlotte’s eyes widen as a pretty girl with flame red hair bounces into the foyer. She’s young, maybe twenty-two, the curves of her body hugged tight by dark washed denim jeans and a snow white sweater that dips low, revealing cleavage that would make even Amelia jealous. Justin stares at her slack jawed and Amelia’s gaze flits between him and the girl, her face set in a frown.

“Oh hi!” she exclaims, her face lighting up in a joyous smile. “You must be Justin. I’m so excited to finally meet you. Trace just talks about you all the time and – oh look- Amelia! Wow that’s such a cute outfit. I wanted something like that but it was too expensive. I just love your style. We seriously need to talk. And you’re an assistant right? I saw you in the papers. Wow, this is just so great.”

The other occupants of the room stare at her in silent wonder and she just grins, leaning on Trace who is smiling, slightly embarrassed as his arm wraps around her tiny waist. Justin’s eyes are still slightly wide and Amelia steps closer to him, her ice blue eyes gazing at the girl disapprovingly.

“Oh I’m Ginger by the way,” she adds finally, resting her chin on Trace’s shoulder as she watches them in slight awe and then she jerks as if remembering something. “Trace I can’t find my cell phone, can you call it?”

Trace nods, fishing his phone out of his pocket and clicking a few buttons. Everyone is silent, listening and they all give a slight jolt as music blares from somewhere near by.

SHA-LA-LA-LA DON’T BE SCARED YOU GOT THE MOOD PREPARED GO ON AND KISS DEE GIRL!

Trace scrunches his face in embarrassment as Ginger exclaims, “Oh jeez,” and bends down, the creamy expanse of her lower back revealed as her shirt hikes up. Justin looks at him and sniggers.

SHA-LA-LA-LA-LA-LA DON’T STOP NOW DON’T TRY TO HIDE IT HOW YOU WANNA KISS DEE GIRL!

She plucks the small thin cell phone from the loose looping of her shoe laces and rights herself, flicking it open just as Trace flips his closed and puts it back in his pocket.

“Thanks Trace-Trace,” Ginger coos, pecking him on the cheek.

“I thought your ringtone was that Cindy Lauper song,” he mutters under his breath and Ginger smiles up at him.

“Oh it is,” she says looping her arm through his and twisting, swinging them slightly in place. “That’s your ring tone.” She smoothes his hair back from his face and he grins, his cheeks reddening and Justin sniggers again.

Ginger sighs. “I have no idea why I put it there. Probably because I didn’t want to lose it or something.” Her face screws up in confusion, as if this train of thought is just beyond her grasp. “Kind of an odd place though.” She snaps out of it shaking her head and then beams at them, her smile bright and unaffected. “Well, it was nice meeting all of you!” she says scrunching up her shoulders as if the excitement has caused all her muscles to seize upward. She gives a brilliant smile and turns to bounce back down the hallway. “FOUND IT!” she hollers and her voice echoes toward the back of the house.

Justin watches the sway of her hips until she flounces around the corner. Amelia huffs and he blinks hard shaking his head as his eyes fall on Trace who’s just now turning back to the group shaking his head. Justin quarks an eyebrow at him, mouthing “Trace-Trace???” and Trace smirks, gripping the air in front of him as if it were hips and his eyes roll back in his head before grinning and winking at Justin. They both snigger and Amelia rolls her eyes, hitting Justin’s chest with the back of her hand and he clears his throat looking at the floor.

“Well,” Lynn says clearing her throat as well and reaching for the handles of a few of the bags at her feet. “Why don’t we get these upstairs?”

It’s a mass exodus up the stairs, each person climbing slowly, their arms straining under the weight of the bags. The dogs trot happily after them, panting and sniffing curiously at the luggage. Even on the second floor the ceiling is high, the white walls climbing up and up and Charlotte notices as she follows Justin down the hall that the general art work of the foyer has given way to framed family photos. Part of her wants to stop and survey them, see Justin as a little boy, a gangly teenager, a young man, but another part of her, the homesick part, can’t stand to look so she stares straight ahead, her eyes focused on the hair curling at the nape of Justin’s neck.

“Here Charlie you take this one,” Justin says nodding his head at the closed door to her left and he pauses to take one of Amelia’s bags from her so that she’s only carrying her own.

She steps inside, dropping her bags on the floor next to the bed and looks around. The room is fairly stark compared to the rest of the house, nothing but a bed and a dresser, a chair in the corner. There’s a Janet Jackson poster on the closet door and a basketball sitting in the chair. She glances out the window to see the swimming pool covered in a black tarp below. The backyard stretches far to the tree line, a few oaks and maples dotting the lawn and Charlotte sighs sitting on the bed, her mind wandering to her family but she snaps back quickly. She really shouldn’t mope.

She hears the jingle of a collar and Buckley rounds the end of the bed moving to stand next to her, sniffing at her shoes, his tail wagging so hard that his entire body wiggles. Charlotte grins reaching to rub his ears and his sniffing stops, his eyes closing in pleasure. She giggles, working her fingers around his neck and scratching under his collar. His leg starts to jiggle.

“Charlie,” she turns and sees Justin leaning in the doorway, looking around the room with a longing expression before his eyes settle on her and Buckley. He grins. “ Making friends?”

“Yeah we’re getting acquainted,” she replies, patting his head affectionately and his tongue hangs out the side of his mouth panting. She looks back and sees Justin smiling softly at her.

He shakes his head as if snapping out of a daze. “Sorry you got stuck in my old room,” he says eyeing the poster on the door. “Amelia thinks the bed is too small.”

“It’s fine,” Charlotte says, her hand still moving continuously over Buckley’s head.

“Hey you doin’ okay?” he asks softly and Charlotte’s eyes meet his, finding him looking at her sympathetically. She blushes, ducking her head.

“Yeah…yeah I’m fine.”

“Good,” he says smiling but it’s not quick enough and she knows he doesn’t believe her. “Well, come on downstairs and meet the family.”

***

“He was the most precious child,” Lynn gushes from across the counter and Justin ducks his head, feeling his cheeks pinken at his mother’s words.

Charlotte looks from his mother to him, a sly smile pulling at her lips and he knows this is payback for getting her father to send those baby pictures a couple weeks back. The majority of the afternoon had been spent around the kitchen table talking as was the custom in the south. Most of the conversation had been centered around stories from his youth that he’d hoped to never hear again, but while it was mildly embarrassing the comfort of having the family together was something he’d desperately missed. It didn’t even bother him that Amelia had little less than turned her nose up at a lunch of Philly Cheese steak sandwiches because he loved his mother’s Philly cheese steak sandwiches and he wasn’t going to let her sulking ruin this for him. He was home.

His dogs were laying under the table at his feet and he enjoyed nudging them every now and then, listening to Buckley’s soft growl and jumping at the feel of Brennan’s tongue on his ankle. His grandmother is just now starting to make dinner, his mother helping as much as Sadie would allow. His grandfather is sitting at the head of the table telling jokes that never failed to make him laugh. Trace is sitting across from him, laughing and sharing looks, knowing Justin even in silence. Ginger leans on his arm, listening animatedly to all the stories being told. Rachel is sitting next to him, her laughter loud and obnoxious as ever but it didn’t bother him the way it used to. She balances her daughter on her knee, little Hannah gazing around at the crowd as if she’d never seen such a spectacle. The child is the spitting image of his cousin aside from the wild curl of her hair, which he guesses runs in the family because the man sitting on the other side of his cousin, her husband Brad, has some of the straightest hair he’s ever seen. Poor kid, he couldn’t help thinking, had a fifty-fifty chance and lost.

“He was a terror,” Rachel contests and his eyes narrow at her, enjoying the cheeky grin he gets in return. Just like old times.

“He was a good kid,” his father, Paul, chimes in from the opposite head of the table and Justin grins in appreciation. “A little ornery but he was a good kid.”

“Remember when he almost took out your picnic table with the lawn mower, Billy?” Rachel asks, nodding at Justin’s grandfather who grins widely nodding.

The entire table chuckles, even Charlotte, who has been doing her best to be upbeat, though the sadness doesn’t quite leave her eyes no matter what expression she takes. Justin admires her amiability. Amelia would be throwing a fit if she were in Charlotte’s place. In fact, he thinks as his eyes flick to her, leaning back silently in her chair next to Charlotte, barely speaking if spoken to, that Amelia is throwing a fit. But it’s a quiet one and he can deal with that.

“Oh come on,” Justin sighs watching as Rachel tries to force Hannah to sit still as the child cranes her neck around trying to reach for the pendant around her mother’s neck.

“No you come on,” Rachel argues playfully, trying to pry Hannah’s fat fingers from her necklace. “You thought you were Dale Earnhardt – Hannah stop.”

“I still can’t believe you have a kid,” Justin says watching her mystified, shaking his head as he smiles softly at the child. “You make me feel old.”

“You are old,” she replies with a grin, bouncing Hannah on her knee and Justin frowns. “That big three-oh is coming up JT.”

“Not for another month,” he says watching Hannah struggle in her mother’s arms. “Com’ere Hannah,” he says, reaching to hook his large hands under the child’s armpits and she looks at him in wonder as she’s lifted into the air and set on his knee.

Hannah laughs, turning her small body in his lap and he allows her to stand on his thigh, keeping his hands around her tiny ribcage for support. She reaches up, her small hands holding his cheeks as she explores his face, a look of deep concentration in her caramel brown eyes. He smiles and her fingers poke at his bottom lip. He laughs and she pulls back startled for a moment before giggling a little herself.

“Would you look at that, he’s a natural,” Brad says, leaning over Rachel’s shoulder to watch his daughter and her uncle interact.

“I always thought Justin would be a wonderful father,” Lynn remarks, rinsing her hands under the sink and all eyes turn to Amelia who blinks back at them bewildered.

Justin grins, watching Hannah’s face closely as she traces the skin of his forehead, wincing a little as she reaches up to tug his hair. He could do this. He could take care of a little girl, teach a little boy to play basketball. He would tell the jokes his grandfather always told him. He could see himself singing them to sleep at night, driving them to school, birthdays and Christmases. He could do that. He and Amelia could-

“We haven’t really discussed children,” Amelia replies stiffly and Justin’s body jerks as if he’s been struck.

He cranes his neck to look at her over his shoulder and finds her sitting back in her chair unaffected, as if her statement was something as simple as saying they hadn’t discussed whether it would be orchids or roses in their floral arrangements rather than discussing their future offspring. She said it so casually, as if she’d already made up her mind. As if the answer was already no. He doesn’t realize he’s frowning until Hannah’s fingers are pushing at the corners of his mouth, urging the smile back onto his face.

“I don’t know if I want kids either,” Ginger pipes in, affirming Amelia’s underlying statement and Justin forces a smile for Hannah’s benefit even though disappointment tastes bitter in the back of his throat. “I mean…I want to have my career, you know.”

The entire table looks at her bewildered, including Trace who seems shocked at the utter idea of children from the woman he’s sleeping with. She eyes Amelia, trying to discern her reaction but seemingly can’t. Amelia plucks at her fingernails disinterestedly, looking utterly bored.

“That’s nice, dear,” Sadie says finally as she roots around inside the pantry. “Lynn, do you not have any crushed pineapple?”

Justin’s eyes grow wide. He knows what crushed pineapple means.

“I thought so,” Lynn says, pawing through the cabinet and then sighing. “I guess not.”

“Justin,” Sadie says, leaning back around the cabinet door. “Can you and Trace run up to the market on the corner?”

“Yes,” Justin says immediately, standing up and handing Hannah back to Rachel. “Yes we can. Come on Trace.”

“Whoa dude chill,” Trace says chuckling.

“He knows what crushed pineapple means, don’t you boy?” Billy asks with a grin and he leans close to Charlotte who looks confused. “My wife makes this Blueberry Crunch Cake.” He holds his chest as he closes his eyes and sighs. “Amazing.” Charlotte smiles.

“Wanna go babe?” Justin asks, nudging Amelia’s shoulder, ignoring the disgruntled look Trace gives him. He wants his girl to see all his hometown has to offer, to make her understand why he loves this place, to get her to lighten up a little.

“No,” she replies shortly and then forces a smile. “No I’m fine.”

“Okay,” Justin says, slightly disappointed, his hand dropping from her shoulder.

“What about you Gin?” Trace asks as he stands from his seat and Ginger eyes Amelia for a moment before shaking her head.

“No,” she smiles up at him blandly, “No I’m fine.”

Trace shoots Justin a look before moving around the table and they’re about to file out of the kitchen when Sadie waves Justin over. He gives her a perplexed look as he walks over, Trace waiting by the doorway.

“Justin,” Sadie says, leaning over the counter and Justin does the same, his eyes following his grandmother’s over to the table. “Why don’t you ask Charlotte to go?”

Justin’s eyes fall on Charlotte who’s staring stoically down at the ruffled placemat, her fingers plucking absently at the fabric and he wonders if she realizes how miserable she looks. He looks back at his grandmother uncertainly and she gives him a wide smile of encouragement and nods. He clears his throat.

“Hey Charlie,” he says jovially and she looks up, startled and the sadness wipes off her face but not completely. He smiles, cocking his head back towards the door. “You’re coming, let’s go.”

“Um…” she says confused. “O-okay.”

***

“Dude, if Ginger starts acting like Amelia I’m gonna kick your ass,” Trace says as they walk around the side of the house and Justin snorts.

“Oh shut up,” Justin replies as they approach an old beat up Chevy pick up that looks so out of place to Charlotte between the Lexus and the Escalade.

“I’m not fucking kidding bro,” Trace responds, pointing his keys at Justin as he rounds the back of the truck. “She’s never talked about her,” he makes air quotes, “career before in her life and Amelia shows up and now she’s all ‘my career’ and shit.”

“You just don’t like women with ambition,” Justin chuckles as he opens the passenger side door and stands back to allow Charlotte inside. “Where’d you pick her up anyway?”

Charlotte climbs in hesitantly, the leather seats cracked under her hands and she settles in the middle of the bench seat, sitting almost sideways so her feet can rest on the floorboard of the passenger side. Trace flops in beside her, jamming the key in the ignition and the truck fires up, growling loudly as Justin slides in next to her. She folds her hands around her knees, trying to take up as little space as possible. She’s not exactly sure why they asked her to come. She’s sure they would have liked some time to catch up but she can’t say she isn’t grateful. Watching Ginger trying to emulate Amelia was almost painful.

“Beauty shop,” Trace responds with a grin as he looks over his shoulder, backing the truck out of the drive. “She cuts my hair.”

Justin laughs at this, letting his head fall back against the back window, his eyes closing as he sighs. He opens his eyes and looks around at the interior of the truck, breathing deep the smell of the old leather mixed with the mint of Charlotte’s hair.

“I didn’t know you were driving this thing,” Justin says, resting his arm against the window and struggling to sit up farther. Charlotte curls into herself trying to give him more room.

“Yeah,” Trace says with a sigh as he pulls onto the open road. “I just couldn’t get rid of it. Granddad loved this thing.”

Charlotte feels Justin shift again but now it’s not because he’s crowded.

“Hey man, I…I’m sorry I wasn’t here for the funer-”

“Don’t mention it,” Trace says quickly, his eyes flicking to Charlotte and she looks at her hands on her knees, feeling more and more awkward by the second.

“Didn’t even change the radio,” Justin grins, reaching forward to fiddle with the old knobs and Trace grins.

“Hell no that’s a classic,” Trace replies as they pull onto the highway and it’s only a few miles until they see a small convenient store.

Trace pulls in and kills the engine, all of them piling out. Justin offers his hand to Charlotte as she scoots over to the edge and she takes it somewhat hesitantly, allowing him to steady her as she hops to the ground. He smiles warmly at her and she returns it a little awkwardly, slipping her hand out of his as she turns to hurry into the store.

She stops in her tracks, giving a small yelp of surprise when she comes face to face with a dingy, disheveled man, his grisly beard gray under all the dirt. He reeks of alcohol, the smell seeming to come from his very pores and he stumbles closer to Charlotte causing her to take a cautious step back. She gasps as she feels a hand clamp around her wrist and she’s tugged swiftly behind Justin, his body blocking hers as he stands at his full height.

“Stand between us,” he mutters to her as he turns, keeping his eye on the man as his hand settles on her lower back, Trace falling in on her other side.

His hand stays firmly in place until they’re inside.

“You okay?” he asks and she nods, her heart still thumping unevenly but she can feel it slowing down. He gives her a short nod, eyeing her for a moment to make sure she’s telling the truth.

“Dude!” Trace exclaims and Justin turns to find his best friend holding a magazine, a look of horror on his face. “What the FUCK is this?”

He flips the magazine so that Justin can see the cover and Justin’s ears turn bright red, looking quickly at the floor. Charlotte steps closer seeing that it’s one of those rag mags, the glossy cover showcasing a large picture of Justin and Amelia in some little boutique in Manhattan. Amelia is leaning over a table looking at something and Justin is standing next to her looking very bored and – Charlotte’s jaw drops – holding Amelia’s purse.

“What. The. Fuck.” Trace says again slower this time, chuckling as he turns the magazine back around to look at it again.

“Come on man,” Justin mutters, snatching for it but Trace pulls back grinning as he flips through the magazine.

“It matches your outfit and everything,” Trace teases and Justin scowls at him, rolling his eyes as he turns to stalk down a nearby aisle. “Fuck I’m buyin this,” he says, tucking the magazine under his arm.

Charlotte giggles, looking around at the walls decorated with animal heads and fishing lures. Old oil cans and dated coke bottles line the shelves around the ceiling and hokey metal signs with sayings like “Gone Fishin'....be back dark-thirty!” and “If it flies it dies.” Liquor bottles line the wall behind the counter and Charlotte is some what shocked to see such a small country store selling hard liquor.  There’s a freezer holding ice cream bars and fudgecicles next to a fridge that carries bait of all kinds and there’s a long aisle of beef jerky and pork rinds.

She meanders down the aisles, always within earshot of Justin and Trace, listening to them bicker playfully as they pay for the can of pineapple and the magazine, much to Justin’s chagrin. Her mind wanders like her feet do, missing home, missing her family. She realizes she’s being childish. Justin’s family welcomed her with open arms, asking polite questions of her, forcing seconds on her which she gladly took much to Amelia’s horror. Even though she’d only been there for a few hours she was already feeling akin to them and she figures that if she had to spend Christmas away from her family she was glad it was with a group as kind and welcoming as Justin’s.

She’s reading a display of bumper stickers when Justin calls her name and she finds him and Trace standing next to the door, motioning for her to come on. She scurries up the aisle following them out the door. They both slow, standing on either side of her, looking around discreetly but she knows what they’re doing and the old drunk is nowhere in sight. Both men still stay close to her until she climbs into the cab of the truck.

They pile in around her, shoulders knocking hard into hers and she rolls her eyes, nudging them with her elbows. Trace tosses his magazine onto the dashboard, Justin rolling his eyes as he sets the can of pineapple on the floorboard between his feet. That’s when Charlotte notices that he also bought another item. All she can tell is that it’s a bottle, the contents concealed by a brown paper bag.

Justin grins and so does Trace as he fires up the truck, backing out of the parking lot slowly. Charlotte watches as Justin crumples the mouth of the brown sack down, revealing only the black cap of the bottle and twisting it off, grinning as he brings it to his lips and takes a swig. He grins, holding the bottle out to Trace, who takes it and sucks down a quick swig, shivering and grimacing as he hands it back.

Justin holds the bottle out to Charlotte. “Here.”

Charlotte eyes it, not taking it. “What is it?” she asks wearily and Trace sniggers.

Justin wiggles the bottle, a low glugging sound emitting from it as the liquid sloshes inside. “Just try it. Trust me.”

Charlotte watches him through narrowed eyes for a moment and he wiggles the bottle again. She sighs taking it from him and sniffs the opening, wrinkling her nose before bringing it to her lips and taking a quick sip. Fire shoots down her throat and her eyes bug at the bitterness, a cough forcing its way from her lungs. Justin and Trace both throw their heads back, laughing hard and Charlotte blushes, trying to force down her cough.

“Charlie,” Justin chuckles, his laughing beginning to subside as he slips the bottle out of the sack, the white lettering standing out starkly against the black label. He chuckles. “Meet my friend Jack.”

He grins, slipping it back into the sack and taking another sip before handing it back over to Trace, reaching for the knob on the stereo. They turn to each other in wide-eyed shock as a clanky electric guitar fills the cab and Charlotte knows this song, the beat thumping methodically with her heart and she jumps as both men start to sing together.

“WHEN I WAS JUST A BABY, MY MAMA TOLD ME, "SON, ALWAYS BE A GOOD BOY; DON'T EVER PLAY WITH GUNS." BUT I SHOT A MAN IN RENO, JUST TO WATCH HIM DIE.”

Trace can’t quite hit the last note as Justin barely makes it and Charlotte can’t help but giggle at Trace’s off key howl and Justin’s tenor bravado. He turns to her and grins as they continue on, singing to her dramatically and she can’t help the smile that threatens to split her face open.

“WHEN I HEAR THAT WHISTLE BLOWIN' I HANG MY HEAD AND CRY.”

“Come on Charlie sing it,” Justin says before starting in again, Trace joining him, pounding the beat against the steeling wheel with an open palm.

Charlotte shakes her head embarrassed, still grinning like a fool. Leave it to Justin to make an ass out of himself and get her laughing. In that moment she forgets about missing her family and how much she wishes she were with them. In that moment she can’t imagine being anywhere else but here in this car with them.

In Charlotte’s hazy, sleep filled brain the thudding of paws down the hallway doesn’t quite register. She’s in the space between dream and waking where she can’t quite comprehend what’s going on as the door to her room is nudged open and heavy pants fill the air. But everything comes crashing to the surface, her eyes flying open and she yelps as two large dogs jump onto the bed, trampling her legs as they snort and root at the covers.

“Guys!” a harsh whisper comes from the doorway and she looks over wide-eyed to see Justin peeking his head around the doorframe. He grins sheepishly. “Sorry.”

Charlotte doesn’t respond, her mind still trying to grasp that it’s morning and she’s not in her own bed. She covers her face wondering what the hell she must look like. She usually avoided mirrors until she was fully awake and now here she was with an audience...a male audience with whom she didn't really want to share her makeupless face and morning breath.

“Bren…Buck…seriously.” Justin says and she feels him move up next to the bed, the dogs grunting as he drags them to the floor by their collars.

Charlotte pushes herself up, locking her arms behind her as she looks around blearily. Morning light is filtering in feebly from the window, bathing the room in muted grays and blues. Justin is standing next to the bed watching her amusedly, his short curls fuzzy and mussed, a thin white t-shirt clinging to his chest and threadbare cotton sleep pants covering his long legs. She jumps when Buckley’s cold nose nudges her hand and Justin grips his collar again tugging him back.

“What time is it?” she asks, her voice rough as she runs a hand over her face, still trying to adjust to the light.

“About nine,” he says leaning down to massage Brennan’s ears. “You should go back to sleep if you want to. Not a whole lot going on today. Trace is gonna be here in a minute for some male bonding.” He grins as he reaches down to rub Buckley’s head roughly, the dog panting up at him, his tongue lolling out of the side of his mouth. “And since you’re lacking in that department you can’t go.” he adds smarmily and Charlotte purses her lips at him, narrowing her eyes.

“Is everyone else up?” she asks, stifling a yawn with the back of her hand and Justin grins at her, still clearly amused by her sleepiness.

“Justin?” Lynn’s voice travels down the hall and when she appears in the doorway and her face shows slight surprise. “What are you doing?” Her eyes flick from her son to Charlotte who blinks a few times to clear her hazy vision, finally coming into some sort of coherency.

“The dogs kinda barreled in here,” Justin says and both animals turn their mammoth heads back towards Lynn who narrows her eyes at them.

“Oh would you two leave the poor girl alone. It’s bad enough she’s stuck here away from her family for the holidays; she doesn’t need you two trampling her to death in her sleep!” 

Brennan and Buckley duck their heads chastised and step slowly towards the door, their movements sluggish and careful under Lynn’s stern gaze. As soon as they slither past her they take off running down the hallway, their claws ticking on the stairs as they rocket their way down to the lower level.

“You have a pillow crease across your face,” Justin states and Charlotte glares up at him, rubbing her cheek self-consciously even though she knows he’s just playing with her. “And your pony tail is lopsided.”

“Thank you for pointing that out,” Charlotte replies sarcastically as she reaches up to tug the elastic from her hair, her chocolate brown locks tumbling down over her shoulders. Justin watches her, still smiling.

“It’s adorable really. Your face is all blotchy too,” he smirks and she feels his index finger poke her bicep lightly, jabbing playfully.

“I woke up two minutes ago. I have a right to look horrible,” Charlotte replies, reaching up to run her hands through her hair. She smirks. “What’s your excuse?”

Justin scoffs, a look of mock hurt covering his features and he turns his heel fully prepared to pull a prima madonna stalk off and he nearly runs smack into his mother who is eyeing the two of them curiously. He meets her eyes and finds questions there. Questions that shock and baffle him. The smile falls off his face and he clears his throat stepping past her.

Was that inappropriate of him? He was just getting the dogs. And he and Charlotte always bust each other’s balls. They’re friends right? Sure they haven’t done a lot outside of work but they are friends. That’s not weird for him to go in his friend’s room when she’s sleeping. Is it? He’ll admit that one of his flaws is underestimating the way things look to other people. Really he doesn’t give a flying fuck what anyone else thinks but the way his mother had looked at him, the questioning in her eyes, the almost hopeful look. Maybe he was over reacting. He was sure he was over reacting. True he likes Charlotte just… not in that way. He shakes his head. He’s engaged. And he loves Amelia. He really does.

“Ugh Justin! Trace is here!” Amelia calls from the bottom of the stairs, her voice laced with distaste and he thinks he hears his friend’s amused snigger.

“Coming! I just gotta get dressed.”

***

Charlotte shuffles down the stairs into the open kitchen and finds two conflicting scenes. Amelia is stationed at the kitchen table, her laptop opened, papers and files laid out around her. It’s odd to see Amelia in something other than business skirts and dresses. Even though she’s dressed casually Amelia still looks completely put together, the soft gray wool of her bell sleeve sweater hugging her slim frame, the rolled neckline resting just under her chin and setting off her porcelain skin beautifully. The cut of her dark denim jeans accentuates the slimness of her legs hugging her tight all the way down to her ankles. She has a pair of Mary Jane skimmers on her feet, the gray suede soft and gleaming as if they’d never been worn.

On the other side of the kitchen which might as well be the other side of the world, Lynn and Ginger are pulling eggs and flour out of the refrigerator and cabinets, dressed casually in cheery holiday sweaters, the cotton of their sleep pants pooling over the tops of their bare feet. Seeing them makes Charlotte feel slightly better about her ratty college hoodie and old blue jeans that are fraying at the hems, her unmanicured toes barely visible beneath the hemline.

Justin and Trace sit across from Lynn and Ginger at the kitchen island chatting easily over a breakfast of pancakes and eggs. Both men are dressed simply in hooded sweatshirts and jeans, sneakers on their feet. Trace is already working on his pancakes as Justin continues to fork eggs into his mouth, his jaw working slowly as he chews. Charlotte inhales deeply, the heady scent of syrup filling her nostrils and her stomach snarls, announcing her presence. Everyone turns toward her, except Amelia who seems to be totally immersed in her work. Justin grins widely.

“Mornin’ Al!” he exclaims and Charlotte gives him a condescending smile, sliding onto a barstool next to him. “Forecast?”

Charlotte shifts on her seat, eyeing the other occupants in the room. “Um…cold?”

“Oh come on you can do better than that!” Justin exclaims, his elbow nudging her gently before shoving the last of his eggs into his mouth and she sighs.

“Fine. Cloudy today with a high of sixty. Chance of snow around midnight,” she rattles off, smirking at her own cleverness for checking it on her phone before coming downstairs.

“Oh come on!” he exclaims, his fork falling to his plate with a clatter. “Do the voice!”

“No!” Charlotte says feeling her cheeks heat up, the other occupants in the room regarding them with curious amusement.

“Come oooooooooon,” he whines, poking her repeatedly in the arm until she slaps his hand away, then doing it one more time for good measure. “You always do the voice.”

“Justin don’t be obnoxious,” Amelia says, her voice distant as if she’s not really paying attention. Justin ignores her.

“What voice?” Ginger asks, watching the two of them in confusion and Charlotte sighs.

“Her weatherman voice,” Justin says and then pokes her again. “Do it.”

“I’m not doing it,” Charlotte replies, trying her hardest not to smile but does a poor job.

“Dooooooooo iiiiiiiiiiiit,” he says lowly, drawing out the vowels in the words and poking her again. Charlotte slaps his hand and giggles before pulling her face into an expression of mock annoyance.

“Fine!” she clears her throat and adjusts her shoulders, rolling her neck.

“You’re getting ready?” Justin asks, a smile tugging at his lips, amused by her actions. “Really? Really?”

Charlotte huffs. “Yes…ugh…gimmee a minute,” she scolds lightly, heaving a sigh and then clearing her throat again. “Todaaaay’s forecaaaaast is cloudyyyy with a high of sixty. But watch out! We’re gonna be getting some flurries around midnight. Pack your snow shoes!”

She blushes furiously and Justin beams at her practically bouncing in his chair. Trace chuckles and Ginger peeks around them at Amelia before chuckling a little herself. Lynn smiles, eyeing the two of them curiously as she sets peanut butter and baking powder on the counter.

“Charlotte, would you like some breakfast?” Lynn asks. “We’ve got eggs, pancakes – obvisously –” she chuckles as she watches Justin nudge his empty egg plate out of the way and pull his plate of pancakes more fully in front of him, drizzling an obscene amount of syrup on them. “We have-”

“Justin!” Amelia exclaims suddenly and everyone jumps at the sharp tone of her voice. Justin turns to look at her, blinking slowly, his muscles tense. What could he have possibly done now? “What are you doing?”

Everyone looks at him and he looks down at himself and his food in front of him utterly perplexed.

“I’m…eating breakfast?” he asks, looking over his shoulder at her again.

“You already had eggs,” Amelia says sharply and her voice softens when her eyes flit to Lynn. “Darling you know you’re not supposed to have carbs.” She laughs as if he were just being silly. “You’ll set back your new training regimen.”

Justin looks from Amelia to his mother who is blinking back at him somewhat amazed before she looks away to grab a bowl from under the counter. Trace makes an irritated sound in the back of his throat but says nothing. Justin looks down longingly at his pancakes and then glances back at Amelia who is still gazing at him steadily. He hears Charlotte’s stomach grumble again and he sighs.

“Here Charlie,” he says, nudging his plate in front of her. “You need this more than me.” Charlotte barely hears the “apparently” he adds under his breath.

“Are…are you sure I mean I can just-”

“Please,” he says, holding his hands up. “Amelia’s right. No…no carbs for me.” He forces a smile and Charlotte gives him a sympathetic look before picking up the fork and beginning to eat.

“Dude…you’re fuckin’ whipped,” Trace mutters under his breath and Justin glares at him, sliding off his barstool.

“We should get going,” he says, smacking Trace on the shoulder with the back of his hand.

“What are you boys doing today?” Lynn asks as she sets the oven to pre-heat, eyeing the two of them.

They both shrug and Charlotte grins at the way they mirror each other, their hands in the front pouch of their hoodies, resting their weight casually on one leg. Lynn seemingly notices this too and smiles, shaking her head.

“Bye Momma,” he says softly, leaning over the counter to peck her cheek softly and Trace gives her a short wave as they move towards the door.

But Justin stops and mutters something to Trace whose eyes flit to Amelia before giving his friend a short nod and turning to leave. Justin purses his lips and takes a few short strides towards his fiancé, kneeling beside her chair and she looks away from her screen vexed. Charlotte watches from the corner of her eye as he places a hand on her thigh and whispers something she can’t quite hear, catching only a few words like “be nice” and my “our family now.” Amelia rolls her eyes and flops back in her chair, whispering something heated back to him. He breathes out before tilting his head to the side and something in his face changes, something Charlotte can’t quite decipher but it’s almost as if he softens, his lips pursing just slightly and his eyes seem to have their own gravitational pull. She hears him utter one word softly, something that sounds like “please” and Amelia’s face yields to a soft look Charlotte has barely ever seen from her. Amelia sighs and gives a short nod, receiving a grin from him in return and he rises, pecking her on the cheek on his way to his feet.

Charlotte turns back to her plate quickly, shoving the last of her pancakes into her mouth lest he catch her watching them. As she turns her eyes meet Lynn’s she’s shocked to find the older woman eyeing her curiously. Charlotte blushes, ducking her head as she picks up her plate and carries it around the island to the sink, rinsing it thoroughly.

“Have fun ladies,” Justin says and Charlotte doesn’t even look over her shoulder to see him leave. “I expect piles of cookies upon my return.”

“Oh yeah right,” Lynn mutters laughing and Charlotte can hear Justin’s throaty laugh waft through the house before melting into nothing, punctuating his departure. “Ginger hand me that flour there. We better get to mixing if we’re going to have piles of cookies later.” Lynn giggles to herself in a way that tells Charlotte she would like nothing more than to make piles of cookies for her son.

“Charlotte,” Amelia says, not taking her eyes off of her computer screen. “I need you to find that file from last week. You know the one. You packed it. Or you should have…”

“Oh Amelia you’ve been working since seven,” Lynn says eyeing the younger woman. “Come on and help us bake cookies. Charlotte you too. You look like a good mixer come here.”

Lynn gestures to the bowl in front of her, moving out of the way and Charlotte hesitates, watching Amelia who is still typing away diligently but her body is pulled partway out of her seat. She straightens completely and sighs, plastering a bright smile on her face but it seems hard instead of warm as she moves to stand next to Ginger. Charlotte doesn’t move fearing that hell has just frozen over. Since when did Amelia play nice?

“Have you ever baked before?” Ginger asks, gazing up at Amelia wide eyed as she moves to stand next to them and Charlotte fights the laugh in her throat taking her place next to Lynn.

“Of course I’ve baked before,” Amelia says, her brows knitting as she eyes Ginger as if she should know better. She rolls her shoulders, bristling slightly. “Our cook made cookies all the time when I was younger. Although…” Amelia sneers down at the dirty counter. “She never made me…er…let me help.” She forces another smile.

“They’re so much better if you make them yourself,” Lynn says as Charlotte begins to stir. “Ginger you wanna crack the eggs?”

Ginger grins, bouncing on her toes before she glances at Amelia who is pushing at her cuticles, looking very bored. Ginger immediately stops her bouncing and clears her throat, brushing back a piece of her coppery hair. Charlotte hadn’t noticed it before but Ginger’s hair is curled softly, tumbling in flowing waves over her shoulders…just like Amelia’s. Ginger looks down at her own fingernails as well, picking at a hangnail.

“No…no I’m fine,” Ginger replies airily, all the while watching Amelia from the corner of her eye.

Lynn looks at her perplexed and then shakes her head before grabbing two eggs from the carton. “Amelia?” she asks holding the eggs out and Amelia’s ice blue eyes turn to them disinterestedly.

“No,” Amelia says, her voice saccharine sweet. “No, I’m fine.”

“I’ll do it,” Charlotte says, taking the eggs from Lynn who smiles at her. “Here, you man the spoon.”

Charlotte hands the spoon over to Lynn before tapping an egg against the side of the bowl and it cracks open, the yoke falling into the mixture and Lynn whips it, her tongue peeking out of the side of her mouth. She sighs, letting the spoon fall to the side and glaring down at the bowl.

“That’s a work out,” she says, flexing her arm and Charlotte moves to grab the spoon. “Oh no honey,” Lynn says, patting Charlotte’s arm as she turns. “Justin got me this mixer…”

She trails as she bends down, opening one of the cabinet doors and pulling out a small hand blender. Charlotte eyes it and then looks in the bowl wearily.

“Um…is that gonna work? This is pretty thick…” Charlotte says peering into the bowl and Lynn shakes her head.

“Nah this thing has like two hundred fifty horses on it,” she chuckles, reaching into a drawer and plucking out the beaters. “Justin got me that big blender over there for my birthday,” she says nodding back towards the far corner of the kitchen and Charlotte’s eyes widen at the sight of the massive professional blender tucked against the wall, taking up a good two feet of counter space. “Then when he realized that it was the biggest pain in the ass to use ever, he got me this for Mother’s Day.”

She grins as she sticks the beaters into the concoction and turns it on, a soft whirring sound humming from it and it gets louder and higher in frequency as she turns up the speed watching the beaters churn through the lumpy dough. She raises her voice so as to be heard over the hum of the beaters.

“Amelia have you started getting your guest list together for the wedding?” Lynn asks, smiling over at the younger woman whose head snaps up at the mention of her name.

“Um…yes,” Amelia says, glaring at the mixer as if it were being very rude making her raise her voice like that. “We’ve just started gathering names.”

“Good, good!” Lynn says, clearly pleased to have Amelia engaged in a conversation. “Remind me later and I’ll give you our church directory. Justin will want everyone there.”

Charlotte watches Amelia’s face go from bored to hyperaware in a span of two seconds. She smiles tightly, clearing her throat.

“What?” she asks delicately, watching Lynn make slow circular motions with the mixer. Lynn squints at her cocking her head to the side, unhearing.

“What was that?”

Amelia grits her teeth and Charlotte turns away, looking for a washcloth to wipe down the counter. This should be interesting.

“Justin…wants…people from here? At our wedding?” Amelia asks and Charlotte cringes at the barely controlled edge in her voice.

Lynn looks up at her bewildered. “Well, yeah,” she says, eyeing Amelia in a concerned way.

“He…he never mentioned it,” Amelia says, sniffing as she traces a finger through a thin dusting of flour on the counter.

Lynn’s head snaps up, her jaw dropping. “Never mentioned it! That boy I swear…” Lynn sighs and then turns to Charlotte. “Ever since he was little he talked about getting married in his grandfather’s church – his father’s dad, not mine – and he always said how he wanted the entire congregation there.” Lynn sighs, her eyes flitting to Amelia briefly before looking back down at the mixer. “Of course St. Thomas is going to be beautiful but I really can’t imagine him not mentioning the guest list.” She looks at Amelia who shrugs, feigning ignorance. “He never mentioned Mr. Stocklin?” She asks and Amelia shakes her head, smiling blandly. Lynn turns to Charlotte. “Mr. Stocklin has this plum suit.” Lynn giggles and Charlotte does too. “I’m talking purple. He wears it to every major event. I swear he’s had that thing for thirty years.”

Charlotte glances at Amelia who looks as if she’s going to faint, her face blanching whiter and whiter by the second. Charlotte can imagine that the thought of having Justin’s country bumpkin family friends at her swanky New York wedding is enough to make Amelia want to vomit. Charlotte can’t help but feel a little affronted. Even though she knows Amelia is an elitist, knows she won’t let anything get in the way of her idea of perfection, Charlotte thinks that something as important as your wedding day should be shared with people you love, even if they are wearing a purple suit.

“I can’t believe Justin never mentioned it,” Lynn says again, looking at Amelia incredulously.

“Well he’s busy,” Amelia snaps finally, clearing her throat before composing herself and forcing another smile. “It probably just slipped his mind.”

“Yes I’m sure you’re right,” Lynn sighs wiggling the mixer in the batter as it stutters slightly, the beaters slowing, bogged down by the sticky dough. “The clothing line’s spring collection is coming along nicely as I understand it,” she continues on, wiggling the mixer, pressing the speed higher and the stuttering sound gets louder. “Trace has been working non-stop on colors and…oh good lord,” she cuts off, muttering as the mixer dies and she tugs it from the batter.

She jostles it lightly, flicking at the speed switch, turning it down and then up again. All four women let out a squeal as the mixer whirs to life, flinging batter everywhere. Lynn works to turn the mixer off, laughing at herself and Charlotte and Ginger can’t help but laugh as well all of them gasping for breath by the time she finally gets the thing off. But Charlotte’s laughter dies almost immediately as her eyes fall on Amelia, whose face is turning red, her ice blue eyes staring down at the globs of batter stuck to her sweater.

“Oh gosh look at us,” Lynn says, wiping at the splatters on her own sweater, minimal but still there.

“This is Italian wool,” Amelia grits out and Charlotte fears her face may just explode. She’s never seen Amelia try to control her tantrums before. She’d be amused if she wasn’t so shocked.

“Oh no!” Ginger exclaims, forgetting about the mess and turning to Amelia. “Come on I’ll help you get it out.”

Charlotte watches dumbfounded as Ginger grabs Amelia’s arm and tugs her behind her, practically dragging her towards the doorway. “You’ll be just fine. Italian wool did you say? Gosh this feels nice! Where’d you buy it? Was it really expensive? I bet it was…”

Ginger’s voice fades as she drags Amelia down the hallway towards the bathroom, her words becoming indecipherable the farther she gets until it’s just a hum in the background. Lynn shakes her head sighing as she drops the mixer into the sink. Charlotte wipes the few dots of dough from her sweater with a dish towel.

“Well I think it’s mixed pretty good,” Lynn deadpans and Charlotte chuckles.

“Yeah,” she responds, shifting awkwardly as silence descends on them, Lynn bending to grab a cookie sheet from a cabinet under the counter.

“So,” Lynn says, straightening again as she sets the sheet on the counter. “How long have you worked for Amelia?”

“Oh…um…about three months now?” Charlotte asks, doing the math in her head and then nodding. “Yeah three months.”

 “It must be fun watching her and Justin bicker all the time,” Lynn says, dipping her fingers into the tub of butter and smoothing it along the bottom of the cookie pan.

Charlotte laughs, “Yeah…it’s…it’s an experience.”

Lynn smiles and doesn’t move her eyes from the cookie sheet as she says. “Do you and Justin even see each other much?”

Charlotte nods. “Yeah,” she says simply and as the silence stretches behind her statement she elaborates. “Well, a little. I’m kind of a go between really. A glorified messenger.” She chuckles to herself.

“Really? You seem like you two get a long so well,” Lynn says casually as she reaches into the bowl and rolls a ball of dough, placing it on the cookie sheet.

“Yeah, well I played pseudo-assistant for him a little...” Charlotte replies shrugging and reaching into the bowl and rolling a ball of dough between her palms. She looks up and finds Lynn gazing at her questioningly and Charlotte chuckles nervously. “Um…kinda a long story,” she sidesteps, not wanting to explain how that whole situation came about.

“Yeah he told me about his little golf escapade,” Lynn replies and Charlotte smiles before suppressing it quickly.

“Oh yeah I was with him for that little detour,” Charlotte responds and Lynn peers at her curiously. Charlotte clears her throat. “I still constantly had Amelia in my ear, though. so it was more like babysitting than assisting...” she trails, cringing. Justin is a grown man and doesn’t need to be babysat. “er…keeping him out of trouble… with her I mean.” She pauses again waiting for Lynn to say something and when she doesn’t Charlotte searches for something to fill the silence. “Sometimes they seem so odd for each other.”

She cringes again. This is what happens when people just let her run her mouth. She ends up sticking her foot in it. Lynn laughs and then looks at her for a moment as if debating, then she sighs.

“They are odd for each other,” Lynn says finally. She pauses and then adds. “They didn’t used to be. Amelia…” she pauses pursing her lips. “Amelia has changed a lot.”

Charlotte nods simply, dying to ask more questions. How had Amelia changed? It was almost impossible to see her as anything different than what she was. It was almost hard for Charlotte to remember why she had admired Amelia when she first started working for her. Was it really possible Charlotte ever thought Amelia was anything other than a domineering tyrant? That all seems so long ago.

“What, was she the one dragging him on golf outings on work days before?” Charlotte asks with a chuckle, hoping she sounds casual in her questions.

Lynn laughs. “No… no Amelia isn’t one for the outdoors.” She pauses rolling a wad of dough between her palms methodically. “It’s good he has someone to share those things with now. I’ve always said that lately he works too hard.”

Charlotte nods, shifting awkwardly. The way Lynn said it, it made her feel like she thought Justin and Charlotte spent a lot of time together. Which they sort of did, but not really in the friendly way that Lynn was implying. Well…actually they were friendly or something close to it. Their banter was scathing and rude a lot of times but you can really only say those kinds of things to friends right? Were they really friends now? It felt that way to her.

“Do you golf much?” Lynn asks and Charlotte laughs shaking her head. “No…no no that’s Justin’s thing,” she says and then frowns. She has no idea what his “things” are. Why did she say that? She feels her face begin to grow hot and she doesn’t quite understand why. “Justin tried to teach me how to swing but that’s the extent of my golf training.”

“Oh how did that go?” Lynn asks, chuckling to herself and Charlotte sighs.

“Let’s just say he’s a patient teacher.”

Lynn laughs. “Sounds like it was fun.”

“Oh yeah he had a great time,” Charlotte says, waving a hand dismissively and reaching for more dough.

“Well that’s good.” Lynn says, nodding her head firmly. “He needs to get out and enjoy himself more.”

Charlotte hums, nodding in agreement. They’re silent for a moment, Lynn pulling out forks and handing one to Charlotte to press into the dough, creating a cross hatch pattern on the top. The silence is comfortable this time, Charlotte feeling like she’s finally getting used to this conversation. She likes Lynn, she’s the typical southern mother she always imagined Justin to have, firm yet loving and kind of silly at times. She can see why Justin adores her so. Lynn clears her throat, shifting on her feet as she begins to speak.

“He seems…he seems happier. Actually…” she chuckles. “This is the happiest I’ve seen him in awhile.”

“Well I know he was really looking forward to coming home,” Charlotte says and Lynn beams. “It’s all he’s talked about for weeks.”

“That might be it,” Lynn says and then pauses before adding. “Also I think that having someone new in your life can bring out another side of you. You know what I mean?”

Charlotte nods, concentrating on making the perfect cross hatched square and then her brain jars. Someone new in Justin’s life? Charlotte’s heart seizes as she remembers that moment in Justin’s office, Patti straddling Justin’s legs. There’s no way that Lynn could know…Charlotte didn’t even know for sure. Lynn shifts her feet again and Charlotte shifts too her heart beginning to race. She really doesn’t want to be in the middle of this. If Lynn has questions about Patti and Justin she needed to ask Justin, maybe slap him around a little for being such an idiot. But by the look on Lynn’s face she has something on her mind, something she wants to talk about. Charlotte keeps her eyes on the cookie sheet, praying silently that she doesn’t ask. Just don’t ask. Please don’t ask her anything.

“Is... is there something... you and Justin… I mean you seem close and he seems like he really likes you…I wasn’t sure if…you two aren’t…” she chuckles unable to finish her sentence and Charlotte looks at her perplexed for a moment before it dawns on her.

“NO!” Charlotte practically shouts, her face flaming hot. “Oh god no! I would… I would never… I mean… not… not that there’s anything wrong with Justin… he’s great… really great… and funny… and charming and… erm… but… but no… no…. no no no.”

She laughs, a maniacal edge to it and Lynn laughs too, nodding as she looks down. She seems almost disappointed, concentrating as she presses a cross hatch on the last ball of dough. Charlotte swallows hard, trying to calm her racing heart and confusion settles over her. Why would Lynn want Justin to be messing around with her? It was clear that Amelia didn’t quite fit in to their little southern family no matter how hard Lynn tried to act otherwise but for her to hope that Justin would be with another woman…with her it was all so baffling. The silence around them is awkward now Charlotte watching her toes trace the lines between the tiles on the floor.

“You know…when Justin was little,” Lynn says picking up the cookie sheet and carrying it to the oven. “He used to love helping me bake. Of course I’d have to watch him and make sure he didn’t eat all the dough before I got it in the oven.” Lynn chuckles and Charlotte smiles, grateful for the change of subject.

“You two seem really close,” Charlotte says leaning against the counter and crossing her arms over her chest, noting how the shape of Justin’s face was very similar to his mother’s.

Lynn smiles. “Not as close as we used to be but…” she trails her eyes growing wide as something catches her eye just over Charlotte’s shoulder. “What on earth!”

Charlotte turns to see two four wheelers streaking across the lawn, one chasing the other, the riders crouched low over the handlebars. She’s unable to tell which is which, both boys wearing black jackets over their sweatshirts, hoods pulled up and covering their heads. Lynn scoffs, stomping over to the door and ripping it open.

“JUSTIN RANDALL TIMBERLAKE IF YOU TEAR UP MY LAWN I WILL SKIN YOU ALIVE!”

The second quad turns, skidding on two wheels as it changes directions quickly, the rider jostling as all four wheels touch the ground again. It’s barreling towards the house and comes skidding to a stop about ten feet from the door, the rider hopping off and pushing the hood of his sweatshirt back and now Charlotte can see Justin’s wide grin. She takes a few steps around the island and pads over to the door, gasping when she sees that Justin is splattered from head to toe in mud and bracken. Trace is now climbing off the back of his own four-wheeler, shoving his hood back and shaking out his hair.

“Where are your helmets?” Lynn scolds, her hands on her hips and Justin ducks his head grinning sheepishly.

“Mom we’re just going around the neighborhood,” Justin says and then he sticks his head in the door. “It smells good in there.” He frowns looking around. “Where’s Amelia?”

“She got dough on her sweater,” Charlotte offers, moving to stand behind Lynn and Justin cringes.

“Trace Trace!”

Before Charlotte can fully comprehend what is going on a flash of red hair streaks past her and Trace lets out a quiet “oomph” as Ginger barrels into him, wrapping her arms and legs around his body. Trace staggers reaching out to grasp onto the side of the house with one arm so he doesn’t fall over while the other hooks under Ginger’s bottom, supporting her weight. Justin lets out a coughing laugh of amusement and both Lynn and Charlotte put a hand over their mouths to suppress their laughter.

“I missed you!” she exclaims, running her hands over his face. She gasps as she looks past him, seeing the ATVs parked haphazardly on the lawn. “You didn’t tell me you were going four wheeler riding!” she exclaims unwrapping herself from Trace and bouncing over to one of the quads. “Can we go for a ride? Please! Please!”

“Um…” Trace says as Ginger runs her hand along the seat of the four wheeler. “We’re kinda…um…we were just…”

His voice trails off as Ginger’s eyes go wide and Charlotte can practically see her lip trembling, her blue eyes large and innocent. In that moment Charlotte would have given Ginger anything she wanted, so Trace really didn’t stand a chance.

“Sure,” he says finally, his eyes slightly dreamy and Ginger squeals, throwing her arms around him again.

“Just lemme get my shoes!” she exclaims, running back into the house and disappearing down the hallway.

Justin grins. “You are so whipped,” he says and Trace glares at him.

“Did you see her ass?” Trace mutters and Lynn scoffs slapping him on the arm. He cringes. “I mean…she’s a nice girl.”

“Uh huh,” Justin says skeptically.

Trace narrows his eyes. “Where’s your Prada bag, J?” he asks smirking and Justin’s ears turn red, pursing his lips. “It would go really nicely with the ensemble you’ve got going on.”

“I’m never gonna live that down am I?” Justin asks with a sigh and Trace laughs shaking his head.

“Okay I’m ready!” Ginger exclaims bouncing back into the kitchen, looping an arm through Trace’s and leaning into him.

“I should go find Amelia…see if she wants to go,” Justin says with a sigh as he moves to step into the house.

“Oh she’s in the shower,” Ginger says, rubbing her hand slowly over Trace’s chest. “She had some dough in her hair. I couldn’t see it but she insisted she did. I told her it was just a few globs on the sweater. I hope it’s not ruined it’s so cute! Did you know it’s a Valentino!”

Charlotte has to bite her lip to keep from laughing. She has a feeling the dough in Amelia’s hair is really more of a ploy to get rid of Ginger than anything else. Justin smiles back at her politely and Trace just shakes his head, letting his hand rest on her hip.

“That’s nice dear,” Lynn says smiling at Ginger who shrugs looking up at Trace.

“Can we go now?” she asks, bouncing slightly.

“Yeah, let’s just go,” Justin says and they turn to leave but Justin stops, turning to look at Charlotte. “Hey Charlie…you wanna come?” he asks tugging his head backward towards the yard and Trace looks at his best friend, his eyes narrowing just slightly as he looks between him and Charlotte.

“Yeah Charlotte it’ll be fun!” Ginger exclaims with such childlike enthusiasm Charlotte can’t help but laugh.

“Um…okay,” she replies and then looks at Justin hesitantly. “Is that…is that okay?”

“No you can't go,” Justin deadpans and then pretends to smack her upside the head. “Of course it’s fine.”

“Just lemme get my shoes,” she says and she jogs back up the stairs and into her room, tugging her beat up tennis shoes out of her bag.

She pulls them on as she walks back out into the hall, hopping on one foot and then the other, not even bothering to undo the laces. When she hits the bottom step again she hears the four wheelers roar to life. Lynn is pulling the cookies out of the oven and Charlotte gives her a short wave as she steps out into the cold December air.

It’s warmer here than in New York, Charlotte muses and while it’s still cold the wind doesn’t quite bite at her the same way it did in the city. Justin is sitting on one quad his hood pulled back up over his head and shouting to Trace over the roar of the engine. He catches sight of Charlotte out of the corner of his eye and smiles.

“Hey Charlie, hop on,” he says nodding his head back behind him and Charlotte steps up to him then hesitates.

The remaining bit of seat that isn’t taken up by Justin’s slim frame seems ridiculously small to Charlotte and it’s glaringly clear to her now how intimate this is going to be, her arms around his waist, his back pressed to her front. She glances back at the kitchen, wondering if Lynn is watching. Maybe this isn’t a good idea.

“Earth to Al!” Justin exclaims and Charlotte jumps finding him looking at her expectantly. “Come on.”

She swallows hard, hesitantly placing her hands on his shoulders for balance as she swings her leg over the quad and settles behind him, keeping as much space between the two of them as possible. She rests her hands awkwardly against his waist as she settles behind him, the hum of the ATV vibrating her entire body. She gasps as Justin’s cold fingers curl around hers and he yanks her arms more fully around him, forcing her body flush against his.

“You’re gonna have to hold on,” he says over his shoulder as he revs the engine and before Charlotte even has a chance to think he takes off like a shot jumping twenty feet in a matter of seconds.

Charlotte gasps, her fingers digging into his chest, arms locking tightly around his body as gravitational force nearly sends her tumbling off the back of the quad. She feels Justin’s laugh vibrate against her chest and she scowls. She peeks out around his shoulder and her eyes widen when she sees them streaking towards the tree line, Trace and Ginger flying on ahead of them, Ginger’s hair whipping out behind her like a flame. Charlotte ducks her head back behind Justin’s shoulder as they race towards the thicket of trees and she closes her eyes, listening to the soft fwt as they cross the tree line and the sound multiplies tenfold, the ride turning bumpy as they race through the forest.

Charlotte takes it back, it’s freezing here. The wind bites at her hands and face, whipping her hair wildly off her neck, stinging her eyes. She shivers, trying to pull herself closer to Justin, savoring the warmth his body provides. She presses her cheek to his shoulder, trying to shield her face from the brutal wind, closing her eyes.

She lets out a soft squeal as they skid to a halt and she opens her eyes to find them deep in the heart of the woods, trees surrounding them, the gray sky visible in patches through the bare branches. Justin kills the engine and Charlotte scoots back as he stands, swinging his leg over to the side, hopping to the ground as he shrugs off his coat.

“Here,” he says holding it out to her and she pulls her arms to her chest suddenly freezing without his body next to hers.

“N-n-no I’m f-f-fine,” Charlotte replies her teeth chattering and Justin laughs.

“Yeah you’re f-f-fine,” he teases and shakes the coat at her. “Put it on.”

Charlotte does so reluctantly but she’s instantly grateful as his residual body warmth envelops her and the warm clean scent of him surrounds her. She pulls the zipper up and bunches her shoulders, trying to warm her ears.

“Here put your hood up,” he says tapping his own head, covered by the cloth of his hoodie.

Charlotte nods, reaching over her head and trying to fish out her hood from under his coat. She struggles and he laughs, sighing as he reaches to help her. She shudders as his cold fingers brush the warm skin at the back of her neck, wrestling the fabric out from under the coat.

“Move your hair,” he says and she reaches up, gathering her long locks in her hands and pulling it over her shoulder as he pulls the hood firmly over her head.

She looks down, trying to tuck her hair back into the hood and jumps as Justin unzips the coat a little to find the drawstring, pulling it tight until it covers her eyes. Charlotte slaps blindly at him and she can hear him laugh as his cool fingertips brush her face, loosening the hood from her face until she can see and then tying a smart bow under her chin.

“There,” he says, leaning back to admire his work and Charlotte looks at him. Really looks at him for the first time.

Little tufts of brown curls peek out from under the hood of his sweatshirt, fuzzing against his forehead and his cheeks are pink and wind burned. He’s standing stiffly, all his muscles tense from the cold and Charlotte feels bad for taking his jacket but he’s smiling, clearly happy to provide for her. And he’s sweet and charming and utterly and devastatingly beautiful.

Charlotte gasps at the thought, looking away immediately and biting her lip lest that thought creep out of her mouth against her will. She sits very still, her eyes unseeing as she assesses every little movement of her body, every thought in her head. Her heart is thudding steadily but a little quicker than usual, adrenaline racing through her veins. That’s just from the ATV ride right? It had nothing to do with the fact that Justin had just touched her face, the back of her neck, her hair. Her muscles are tense, her stomach fluttering but that had everything to do with the cold and nothing to do with the way he was smiling at her or the fact that he was so near. Right?

When had this happened? Between calling the florists and emailing the caterers, the nonstop meetings and endless filing, where did Charlotte have time to develop a crush?

“Come on let’s get you back,” Justin says finally and Charlotte nearly falls off the back of the quad, so horrified by her realization she’d almost forgotten he was there.

He swings his leg back over the ATV and Charlotte doesn’t move, holding her arms to her chest, her freezing hands shaking in one another. How could this have happened? How could she have let this happen? Justin was engaged. To her boss of all people. Of all the horrible rotten luck. Justin fires up the four wheeler and looks over his shoulder at her confused when she doesn’t grab on.

“You can put your hands in my pocket if you need to,” he hollers over the roar of the engine and Charlotte’s mouth falls open.

He reaches behind him and tugs her elbows, drawing her arms around his waist before guiding her hands into the pouch of his hoodie like it’s nothing and before Charlotte even has a chance to rectify the situation he’s punching the gas sending them barreling through the woods.

“I just have to find Trace,” he hollers over his shoulder as they barrel deeper into the woods.

They cut zigzags around the trees racing along, Justin’s head whipping around every now and then when he thinks he sees or hears something. Trace and Ginger reappear in a flash as they drift to a halt right next to them, spraying Justin and Charlotte with mud and dead leaves. Justin curses him vehemently but laughs as he chases Trace back through the woods

Charlotte’s arms grip around Justin’s waist tightly, her hands warm inside the pocket of his hoodie, pressed against his stomach. This is really a bad idea, the worst idea she could have ever had. Well technically it wasn’t her idea; it was Justin’s. She didn’t even want to begin to try and decipher what that meant. She gasps as they turn sharply, the tires spinning and spraying mud all over her pants and shoes. She hugs him tighter, holding on as he presses the quad to go faster and before she knows it they break the tree line and Justin’s house shines like a beacon in the late morning gloom.

They race around the side yard toward the garage where the back door stands open, revealing a large empty space for the ATVs and a few motorcycles. Justin and Trace each race for the opening and Charlotte ducks her head, pressing her cheek hard against Justin’s shoulder blade just waiting for the impact. But it doesn’t come, only the slight jostle of changing from grass to concrete and Justin’s laughter as he kills the engine, Trace idling in behind him.

Charlotte unwinds her arms from around Justin’s waist, horrified at the feeling of reluctance the action brings.  She slides quickly off the back, trying to put as much distance between them as possible but he doesn’t seem to notice, too busy gloating over the fact that he won, Trace rolling his eyes and stalking out of the garage. Ginger falls in next to Charlotte as they follow the boys back towards the house.

“That was fun!” she exclaims, running her fingers through her matted red locks, picking out clumps of dirt and dried leaves. “You and Justin must be pretty close.”

“What? Why would you say that?” Charlotte asks, her voice panicked and she swallows hard, trying to calm her racing heart.

“Well he let you have his jacket,” Ginger says laughing and shaking her head as if to say “silly.” “And Trace said he doesn’t let just anyone hang out with him like this. Says he’s really private.”

“Really?” Charlotte asks her brows furrowing in confusion.

She looks at Justin, whose back is to her, still gloating to Trace. Justin is one of the most open people she has ever met. Was this Trace’s way of letting Ginger down easy if Justin didn’t like her?

“Yeah,” Ginger says nodding as if she were the authority on such things. “Of course he’s really nice and charming to everyone but he doesn’t just let people in like he did with you and me. Like he’ll be polite and stuff but he doesn’t wanna hang out with just anyone. Like when he took you golfing before.”

Charlotte stops. “He told you about the golfing?” Her eyes snap to Justin whose head is tipped back in laughter as he disappears around the side of the house.

“Yeah!” Ginger exclaims nodding enthusiastically. “Er…well… he told Trace and Trace told me.” Ginger smiles shrugging her shoulders. “He doesn’t tell me much about Justin. Which why would he really they’re not that close anymore. Trace doesn’t like Amelia. I have no idea why because I think Amelia is just amazing! But anyway its kinda weird that Justin dragged you along to the driving range, that he usually would have just left you at the office or something.”

Ginger shrugs, swinging her arms, sighing as they round the house and Charlotte feels a little queasy. She had just thought that Justin was a nice, all inclusive kind of guy. Could Ginger be right? Did he really like her that much? Her stomach flutters at the thought and she nearly chokes on her sharp intake of breath, trying to pass it off as a cough.

She really doesn’t need this, she thinks as they catch up to the boys at the back door, Justin holding the door open for everyone. He’s engaged for chrissake. He’s in love with Amelia. He’d have to be to let her treat him the way he did. She will not fall into this. She will remain professional. She says this like a mantra in her head as she files past him but loses track of the thought when he smiles warmly at her, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

Okay so she can have a crush. That she can deal with. It’s not like she has to act on any of these feelings. She would just have to deal with the butterflies and learn to suppress the goofy smile on her face every time he looked at her. She mentally kicks herself.

“JUSTIN what on earth…you’re FILTHY! What have you been doing!”

Everyone freezes finding Amelia standing from the kitchen table wearing a navy cardigan blouse with white shirting near the shoulder seams. She looks absolutely horrified at the sight in front of her and Charlotte looks down at herself as well as the others, finding herself caked in mud. She really hadn’t realized before. She was too busy concentrating on how warm Justin was. She mentally kicks herself again. Harder this time.

Justin grins at Amelia, pushing past the rest of them to stand in the middle of the kitchen, his shoes leaving muddy footprints on the white tile. Amelia looks at him wide eyed as he takes another step closer.

“Hey sugar,” he coos grinning innocently and Amelia narrows her eyes.

“You stay right there,” Amelia warns, holding a hand out in alarm.

“Come on baby give daddy a kiss,” Justin replies cheekily as he reaches out for her, taking another step forward.

Amelia scoffs. “I most certainly will not….stop…no…JUSTIN!”

Justin doesn’t listen as he snatches her to his chest and it’s a wonder how he’s able to keep a hold of her with her flailing the way she is. He picks her up effortlessly, throwing her small frame over his shoulder and she’s still shouting, kicking her legs as he bolts for the door, sprinting across the lawn.

They all watch in amusement and slight horror as Justin falls to his knees and wrestles Amelia to the ground, rolling her in the dirt and dried leaves. They can hear Amelia squawking at him, her fists pounding against his chest as she tries to right herself and he laughs wrestling her down again. Amelia struggles against him, pushing Justin’s chest hard and he falls backwards onto the grass and she tries to crawl away.       

“Oh would you look at them!” Ginger says, clasping her hands to her chest giddily. “They’re having so much fun! So in love.” She sighs whimsically.

Charlotte gazes out onto the lawn and the look on Amelia’s face is anything but loving.

“The man’s got a death wish,” Trace says, shaking his head as he turns back towards the kitchen island, snatching a warm cookie off the plate. Ginger frowns following him.

“You don’t want to be like them someday?” she asks and Charlotte thinks she hears Trace choke on his cookie.

But Charlotte isn’t paying them much attention as she watches Amelia struggle to pull herself to her feet, face contorted in anger, her mouth moving silently. Charlotte can only imagine what she’s saying. Something along the lines of “most childish impossible man” she would imagine. But Justin just laughs, biting his lip as he reaches for her hips, snatching her back down into his lap and the look of panic on Amelia’s face as she tumbles backwards causes Charlotte to cover her mouth with her hand to suppress her laughter.

Her heart twists in her chest when he doesn’t let her go, grinning and squeezing her under her ribs until she quits struggling and she can see his lips moving slow, talking to Amelia quietly and a slow grin creeps over his face when Amelia’s scowl begins to break and he laughs when she shoves his shoulder, annoyed at being charmed out of her anger. Charlotte turns away from the window just before Justin’s lips descend on Amelia’s, something similar to jealousy burning in her chest.

This is not good, she thinks to herself, chewing her bottom lip slowly. She shakes her head. She’s being ridiculous. It’s just a stupid crush. She’s had them off and on since she was nine years old and not much ever came of any of them. Why would now be any different. So she was attracted to Justin – her eye catches sight of a framed picture of him sitting on a hutch next to the door, seemingly taken at the beach several years ago, his hair fuzzing wildly, blue eyes squinted against the sun – who wouldn’t be attracted to Justin.

Charlotte would just have to deal with it. She would do her job. She would be polite and helpful and remain as professional as possible. This was her plan.

Because it worked so well the first time.

“Come on Amelia. One drink.”

“For the fourteenth time, no Tracey.”

Trace’s eyes narrow at the beautiful blond woman sitting across the room from him, regal even in her cream silk pajamas, before he purses his lips and bites back the reply that’s burning in his throat. Charlotte bites her lip to hide her smile, tapping her half empty bottle of Bud against the wicker armrest of the patio chair she’s sitting in. After a huge dinner of fried pork chops, mashed potatoes, collard greens and corn on the cob, the “kids” as Justin’s grandmother, Sadie, had put it, had retired to the sun porch just off the kitchen to sit and chat, or more so drink and banter. It was chilly but not freezing, a few space heaters humming around the tight circle of furniture keeping its occupants if not comfortable then warm enough. Justin’s cousin Rachel was laying across the wicker sofa, her legs draped over Trace’s thighs, his arm flung on the back of the sofa, his long legs sprawled out in front of him. Their significant others had left early, Ginger claiming to have to get to work early in the morning, her eyes flitting to Amelia the entire time she rattled off all the things she had to do, and Rachel’s husband, Brad, had offered to let them hangout, taking their sleeping daughter home for the evening. Justin and Amelia sit side by side on the love seat, Amelia’s legs curled beneath her and she leans heavily on Justin, his arm resting easily around her shoulders. Charlotte can’t help but think that to the outside observer they would look comfortable and in love but all she can see is how Amelia is pushed against him so she will have more room on the couch and that his arm is around her because he really doesn’t have room to put it anywhere else.

“Who’s ready for dessert?” Sadie asks, nudging the screen door open with her hip, while holding up plates of steaming cobbler watching her feet as she descends the two steps onto the sun porch.

Justin stands immediately at the scent of warm peaches fills his nose and he’s eight years old at his grandparent’s kitchen table, chewing slowly and listening to his Grandfather’s newest joke. Amelia scoffs, nearly toppling into the empty space now left by his body as he steps forward to take the plates from his grandmother who does her best to suppress her smile. Justin snatches both plates, shoving one into Charlotte’s hands without even really paying attention to who he was handing it to and moving to take his seat again. Amelia eyes his plate disapprovingly as he licks his lips, his fork poised to rip into the flaky crust.

“You’re not going to eat that entire piece are you?” Amelia asks right before the tines of his fork pierce a hunk of peach and he looks over at her, blinking slowly.

“Damn straight I am,” he says before shoveling a huge bite into his mouth nearly moaning at the old familiar taste, not even hearing Amelia’s huff of annoyance.

“Don’t curse…and don’t eat so fast,” she pokes his shoulder receiving a nod from him in return and Charlotte thinks she catches him almost roll his eyes. She smirks. Good to know that not even Amelia can get between Justin and food.

Sadie comes back out with two more plates and moves to hand one to Amelia who holds up her hand and smiles sweetly.

“No, none for me. Justin and I are sharing,” she says, smiling brilliantly and even though Charlotte has seen it before she is momentarily dazzled. Amelia can be incredibly charming from the outside.

Justin’s head snaps up, looking at his fiancé as if he were debating telling her no but his shoulders curl when she raises an eyebrow at him, daring him to challenge her. Come on Justin, Charlotte thinks, just this once…But she sighs, disappointed as he offers Amelia a bite from his fork which she takes, albeit somewhat reluctantly.

“Hey do we have ice cream?” Justin asks moving to shovel more cobbler into his mouth and Amelia places a hand on his arm, giving a slight shake of her head. Charlotte thinks she hears Sadie grit her teeth. “Never mind it’s better this way,” he adds quickly, moving to take another bite but Amelia pokes him in the ribs and the fork stops halfway to his mouth, pursing his lips as he offers it to her instead.

“Okay,” Sadie says with a sigh handing Rachel and Trace the plates in her hands. “We’re headin’ home,” she adds as she pads back over to Justin who looks up at her. “You kids have fun.”

She leans down, cupping Justin’s face as she places a kiss on top of his curly head. Charlotte can’t help but grin at the satisfied smile that plays over Justin’s full lips, clearly enjoying being close to his family again. Sadie pats Amelia on the shoulder warmly and receives a tight smile in return and Charlotte can feel Amelia’s ‘don’t touch me’ vibes from where she sits across the room. Sadie’s eyes turn on Rachel and Trace who are both gobbling up their cobbler as fast as they can, their eyes on each other, trying to force themselves not to laugh. Sadie rolls her eyes, chuckling to herself.

“You two are gonna choke. It’s not a race!”

Just then Trace drops his plate and fork with a clatter to the table, his hands flying in the air as he struggles to swallow the food in his mouth.

“DONE!” he exclaims and Rachel howls in protest, trying to talk with her mouth full.

“’Ooooooo…’ou ‘idn’t e’en ‘inish!” She swallows hard. “You still have some crust right there!”

“I won,” Trace exclaims shimmying a little in his seat and Rachel rolls her eyes, nudging him in the stomach with her foot, scowling playfully at him.

Sadie shakes her head in mock disapproval, turning to Charlotte with a sigh. “Still act like they’re nine years old.” She pats Charlotte on the shoulder, her fingers squeezing affectionately before disappearing back into the house.

Charlotte shrugs her shoulders feeling warm and full. She’s not sure if it’s the food, the alcohol, or the company or maybe a combination of all three but she feels at home. She loves Justin’s joking grandfather and sweet grandmother. She adores his quiet father and doting mother. She loves his dumbass best friend and his smartass cousin. She loves that they accepted her like she was one of the family. She loves that she feels like one of the family.

“I am in need of another drink,” Trace says as he pulls himself up from the couch, Rachel nearly toppling off the side as he lets her legs fall from on top of his. He smirks down at her, snatching her plate. “You want another one?”

“Sure,” she replies with a shrug. “Brad’s on baby duty tonight,” she adds with a satisfied sigh.

“J?” Trace questions, holding out his hand to take his plate from him and Justin hands it over somewhat reluctantly.

“Yeah,” Justin replies, draining the last of his bottle before setting it down on the table.

“You want another one?” Amelia asks quietly, but not quietly enough so that everyone can’t hear.

“Yeah,” he replies, turning his head towards her to muffle the sound and she scoffs.

“You’ve already had two,” Amelia says and Justin sighs.

“We’re on vacation,” he says and then nudges her. “You want some wine or something? I think we’ve got a chardonnay from Grinder’s Switch.” Amelia blinks at him. “That winery near Nashville Mom took us to a few summers ago,” he adds and Amelia shudders.

“No,” she says shaking her head. “I’m fine really.” She forces another smile at Trace who sighs turning to Charlotte.

“Charlotte you want another?” Trace asks and Charlotte hums, her mouth full of cobbler.

“’nyo,” she blushes, putting a hand over her mouth forcing herself to swallow. “No, I’m still working on mine.” Trace smiles, shaking his head as he turns to go back into the kitchen.

“That’s good huh?” Justin asks and Charlotte looks up to find him eyeing her plate. She looks down at it and then at him again.

“Yeah, it really is,” Charlotte replies as Trace shuffles back in, his fingers wrapped around bottle necks, distributing them out. She contemplates offering the rest to Justin and then saying “too bad” when he accepts but she thinks better of it with one glance at Amelia.

“There’s more in there dude,” Trace says flopping back next to Rachel, popping the top off his beer.

Justin hums in thought eyeing the kitchen door. Amelia leans more fully on him as if her body weight would actually keep him in his seat. He wants more cobbler. He’d be lying if he said it wasn’t one of the main things he was looking forward to on this trip. But Amelia has him on this ridiculous training regimen for the wedding. At first he thought his trainer was pissed at him or something but it was only after he’d ran eight miles on the treadmill, upped his weight training by twenty pounds, and practically bent himself into a pretzel that he was told that Amelia had made a call. Amelia always made all the calls. He purses his lips before letting out a sigh and pulling himself to his feet. His knees pop loudly and he winces, Trace chuckling slightly, looking at his friend amused. Amelia huffs annoyed at her fiancé’s blatant disregard to her wishes, folding her arms across her chest.

“Need your cane there old man?” he says grinning cheekily at his friend who gives him a wry smile in return.

“You try dancing every day and night for fifteen years and we’ll see how your knees sound,” he replies as he makes his way to the kitchen door, the screen banging in his wake.

“Yeah yeah we all know what’s coming up in January,” Rachel calls, grinning conspiratorially with Trace and Charlotte looks at them confused. “Justin’s birthday is next month,” she adds to Charlotte who nods, her lips forming a silent “oh” of understanding.

“Shut up!” is the muffled reply from inside the house and Charlotte laughs along with Trace and Rachel.

“Thirty is a big deal, man,” Trace says as Justin descends the stairs back onto the sun porch, a large plate of cobbler in his hand.

“No…no it’s really not,” Justin says with a sigh as he settles down next to Amelia again who is now sitting rigidly in her seat, her arms crossed over her chest.

“You gotta do something. It’s your birthday,” Rachel says, taking a swig of her beer watching Justin shovel cobbler into his mouth and shake his head at her. “You gotta celebrate stuff like that J. Trust me, having a kid makes you realize that milestones are important.”

“I’s ‘ot ah ile’one,” Justin protests and then swallows before repeating. “It’s not a milestone. It’s me being old.”

“You gotta do something. Nice dinner?” Rachel suggests, looking from Trace to Charlotte for approval.

“Maybe drinks afterward,” Trace adds.

“A party.”

Everyone in the room turns in shock towards Amelia who for the first time in several days looks elated. Justin blinks over at her slowly before chuckling lightly to himself, pushing his food around on his plate.

“No babe…no I don’t need a party.”

“Oh come on Justin!” Amelia exclaims patting his forearm. “It’ll be fun. And it’s your birthday.” She grits her teeth. “Rachel and Trace are right. You need to do something special.”

Trace laughs. “What was that Amelia? I didn’t quite hear…something about me being right?”

Amelia ignores him. “We can invite all our friends. We could have it at 583!” She glances at Charlotte. “Write this down-”

“No! No…no!” Justin says as Charlotte looks around for a pen and paper. “583 Park holds like a thousand people. Amelia I really don’t want this to be a big deal,” he says quietly and watches her face fall.

“Why don’t you just have it at your place,” Trace offers and Rachel nods.

“Yeah then just your closest friends,” Rachel adds.

“DUDE!” Trace exclaims and Amelia jumps in surprise, pressing a hand to her chest as Trace reaches across to slap Justin on the arm with the back of his hand. “You could do a theme party! Like remember for your twenty-first you did that white trash theme. With the Twinkie cake!”

Justin grins. “Oh yeeeeeeah that was fun!”

“A…white trash party?” Amelia asks, looking at Justin incredulously and he grins back at her.

“Yeah it was a blast! We could do something like that,” Justin muses, looking up at the ceiling as he thinks.

“No!” Amelia exclaims and everyone turns to look at her.

“A party was your idea Amelia,” Trace responds grinning at her and she narrows her eyes back at him.

“Yes but, Justin,” she turns to sit on her hip, facing him and he looks at her warily as she takes his hand in both of hers. “Darling you already did a,” she swallows hard, “white trash party. You should do something else…be more well rounded.” She pats his hand for emphasis.

“Yeah she’s right I don’t wanna have the same party twice,” Justin says looking back at Trace and then facing forward again, thinking.

“What about toga?” Trace asks and Justin’s face lights up.

“TOGA TOGA TOGA!” They chant together and Amelia cringes as they chuckle.

“I like it,” Justin says. “Toga it is! Happy birthday to me!” He grins as he brings his beer bottle to his lips taking a hearty swig.

“Yes…” Amelia says shifting. “Charlotte, make a note to call the caterers when we get back. And the florist. Oh and we’ll need gift bags-”

“Amelia,” Justin chides and she purses her lips.

“What, it’s a party Justin you’ll need food…and incentive to be there,” Amelia bristles, squaring her shoulders as she searches for her blackberry. “I need to write this down. Charlotte-”

“Shouldn’t the incentive be that it’s my birthday and my friends want to celebrate it with me?” Justin asks incredulously as he brings his beer to his lips again and Amelia blinks at him.

“Well of course but people expect things when they come to parties,” Amelia replies looking at him.

“Yeah some cake and for him to be there,” Trace replies. “Oh and alcohol.” He winks cheekily taking a swig from his beer and Justin laughs.

“Are you laughing?” Amelia asks Justin who coughs, pulling his face into a serious expression.

“No. No of course not,” he replies seriously but he catches Trace’s eye and coughs out another laugh.

Amelia narrows her eyes. “Do you think this is a joke? I’m trying to do something nice for your birthday-”

“No, of course not babe I-”

“You know you’re no fun at all when you drink,” she snaps and Trace has to cover his mouth with his hand to muffle his laughter. Charlotte and Rachel both look at their laps. “I think I’m going to bed,” Amelia says standing and Justin sighs, unmoving taking another deep swig of his beer. “Are you coming?”

“It’s eleven o’clock,” Justin replies blinking at her slowly and she presses her lips into a thin line of irritation before turning her heel and stomping back into the house.

“Way to stand up for yourself there J,” Trace mocks and Justin cuts his eyes at him, sipping his beer.

“She’ll get over it,” Justin replies with a shrug, all the while thinking back to where his mother keeps the extra blankets incase he had to sleep on the couch.

“I especially liked ‘It’s eleven o’clock,’” Trace sniggers and Charlotte ducks her head further down wishing for Trace to just shut up.

“What!” Justin exclaims, his ears turning pink. “It is!”

“Yeah it is as opposed to ‘I don’t want to yet, Amelia.’” Trace rolls his eyes and chuckles bringing his beer to his lips. “Take off your purse and grow a set, dude.”

Justin scowls, draining the last of his beer, pulling himself to his feet and Charlotte has had enough. It’s bad enough that he has to take it from Amelia but he didn’t need a running commentary from his best friend too. She brings her bottle to her lips, draining the last of her beer before dangling the bottle in the air.

“I’ll take another one Justin if you’re going in,” she says and he nods silently, taking the bottle from her. She takes a deep breath before adding, “And none of that pansy ass light shit Trace is drinking.”

All movement stops and everyone turns to look at Trace who has stopped with his beer halfway to his lips, looking at her wide eyed over the rim of his bottle. Rachel coughs out a laugh, bringing her hand up to cover her mouth quickly to muffle the sound and Justin grins slowly, crossing his arms over his chest regarding Trace with a raised eyebrow. Trace blinks slowly before chuckling and shaking his head.

“I like you,” he says, jabbing a finger at her and she grins back at him. “I like this girl,” he says to Rachel who just laughs, nodding in agreement. “Yeah J don’t bring me anymore of this – what was it?” he asks looking at Charlotte.

“Pansy ass light shit,” Justin provides for him with a snigger as he climbs the stairs to the house. “Don’t worry I got ya’ll covered,” he adds as the screen door bangs shut behind him and Charlotte can’t help but grin at the southern drawl in his voice.

***

“And then…” Trace says through gasping laughter, trying to raise his voice over Rachel’s coughing cackle and Charlotte’s wheezing for breath as her stomach cramps with laughter. “Then he fuckin’ got cracked in the head with a goddamn water bottle. Some fuckin’ concert.”

“Oh yeah it was just fucking HILARIOUS,” Justin replies, his voice dripping with sarcasm but he ruins it by giggling. He turns his glassy eyed gaze to Charlotte, who’s wiping her eyes, crying from laughing so hard. “One of the biggest crowds I ever played and they fucking hated me.”

“Because you were in the line up with the fucking Rolling Stones and AC/DC and shit,” Trace says, waving his glass and Jack and Coke sloshes onto the carpet. “Whoops,” he says giggling as he rubs the spot with his shoe, receiving a chorus of giggles from everyone around him. “Pishure…Picshure” he frowns trying to form the word correctly. He shakes his head. “Envision it,” he says grinning drunkenly and they all giggle. “The Rolling Stones. The Who. AC/DC…and Justin fucking Timberlake.”

They all burst into giggles Justin nearly rolling off the loveseat and onto the floor with the force of it. Charlotte brings her glass to her lips again, nearly dumping half of the contents down her front but catching most of it as it dribbles down her chin, sucking her bottom lip into her mouth noisily, receiving a giggle from Rachel in return. She’s really really drunk. Charlotte hasn’t been this drunk since college. God, college was fun. She remembers doing things like this with her friends on Friday nights. John and Lakyn and Tim and Evie and her all laid across the futons in her dorm room at NYU just drinking themselves silly and laughing until the wee hours of the morning.

“I think I should change my name to that,” Justin drawls slowly, tipping his head back to try and look at Trace without getting up but only really succeeds in making blood rush to his head. “Justin FUCKING Timberlake.” He giggles.

“Doin’ a lot of fuckin these days huh J?” Trace teases and Rachel makes a face, taking a hearty gulp from her drink.

“Please Amelia’s an ice princess,” Rachel replies with a snigger. “Her thighs are probably frozen together.”

Trace lets out a booming laugh and so does Charlotte. Justin scowls before chuckling a little himself.

“His dick would probably freeze off,” Charlotte slurs and then slaps a hand over her mouth trying to stop the words but it’s too late.

Everyone’s eyes widen before they all burst into laughter, Trace sliding off the sofa and onto the floor as he holds his stomach gasping for air. Even Justin lets out a nervous chuckle, raising his glass to her before taking a big gulp from it.

“I fucking love you Charlie,” Trace says and Justin’s head snaps up, narrowing his eyes at his best friend.

“Fuck you only I get to call her that,” Justin snaps, sniggering as he takes another gulp of his drink.

“Fuck you,” Trace spats quickly before looking at Charlotte blearily. “Seriously you’re awesome. We should get married or some shit.”

Charlotte giggles. “Oh…well since you proposed so romantically...”

“She’s not gonna marry you asshole,” Justin says, smacking Trace’s shoulder hard and Charlotte giggles.

“What I could!” she exclaims bringing her glass to her lips and then stops. “Well there’s Ginger…”

“Oh yeah,” Trace says and then grins stupidly. “Ginger…RAWR”

“You’re such a pig,” Rachel chuckles, slapping him on the arm.

“You’re just jealous,” Trace smirks wiggling his eyebrows at her. “I always knew you had a thing for me.”

They all burst out laughing except for Trace who looks around offended, exclaiming “What?” before dissolving into laughter himself.

“Fuck all of you,” he says finally, reaching onto the table for the near empty bottle of Jack Daniels, knocking it over with a loud clank of glass falling on glass.

“Stop you stupid ass,” Rachel exclaims, slapping his hand away and picking up the bottle and unscrewing the cap. “You’re gonna fuckin’ break shit.”

“I’m not breakin nothing,” Trace scoffs, watching as Rachel refills his glass, the amber liquid splashing over the ice cubes. “Where’s the soda?”

“We drank it all,” Justin replies with a giggle as he holds his glass above his head, watching the light splinter off the cubes of ice and the brownish gold mixture in his glass.

“Well I guess I’ll just have to drink it straight then,” Trace replies with a lazy grin as he takes a sip, smacking his lips. “It’s better that way anyway.”

“You’re gonna hate yourself in the morning,” Charlotte says with a giggle and Trace smirks at her.

“Not if I wake up next to you darlin’” he drawls and wiggles his eyebrows, sending Charlotte and Rachel both into peals of laughter.

“I told you already mother fucker she’s too good for you,” Justin says, cutting his eyes at his best friend and Charlotte stops laughing her eyes meeting his across the room and he grins widely at her.

“She is not!” Trace exclaims, clanking his glass down on the table hard and Rachel laughs loudly, reaching out to close her hands around Trace’s on his glass to muffle the sound, shushing him but it comes out more of a slur than anything else. “She likes me,” Trace adds grinning cheekily and Charlotte laughs, shaking her hair out sexily and giving him a coy wink which causes them all to dissolve into fits of laughter.

“Charlie doesn’t fuck elves dude,” Justin says finally and the room explodes in a chorus of “ooooooh’s” as Trace scowls up at his best friend.

“Hey the pc term is vertically challenged dick wad,” Trace replies turning his nose in the air and they all snigger. “And what do you know about fuckin anyway?”

Justin scoffs. “I’ve fucked plenty of women.”

A different chorus of “oooooh’s” follows his statement. “Oh really,” Charlotte can’t help but saying, her brain hazy with alcohol. She wouldn’t mind knowing what it was like-

“Most outrageous place you’ve done it,” Trace exclaims and they all look from one person to the other, grinning at the challenge in his words. “Rachel,” he says, turning to her and her eyes widen.

“Fuck Trace I don’t know,” she replies, brushing her dark hair back from her face and Trace shakes his head.

“No, no Mom we know you were wild back in the day. All that touring with Justin…” Trace smirks at her and Justin cringes throwing his arm over his eyes.

“I don’t wanna hear this,” he says, his voice muffled by his arm.

“The hottub at the Marriot,” Rachel says, waving her drink at Trace for punctuation and Justin groans.

“Didn’t wanna know that.”

“In Phoenix Arizona,” Rachel adds with a giggle and Justin’s arm flies from his face, nearly rolling off the loveseat as he tries to roll onto his stomach to look at her.

“That weird bleach blond guy?” he asks, his eyes squinted at her incredulously and she nods.

“His name was…” she frowns thinking. “Fuck what was his name?”

“Oh god. Raaaaacheeeeeeel,” Justin says burying his face in his arms as the others burst out laughing.

“That’s what he said,” Charlotte says giggling and they’re laughing returns full force.

“J,” Trace says, gulping down more of his drink. “You?”

“Me?” Justin asks, resting his chin on his hand and Trace nods.

“Most outrageous place you’ve fucked someone,” Trace replies snapping his fingers. “Come on grandpa stick with us here.”

“Fuck you,” Justin says pointing at him with his glass and then chuckles. “I dunno where’s the most outrageous place you’ve ever done it? Your hobbit hole?”

They all snigger and Trace just smiles wryly. “Driving through the Lincoln Tunnel,” he says proudly and everyone stops laughing just blinking at him.

“How?” Rachel asks, her face scrunching as she tries to wrap her head around what he just said.

“When?” Justin asks before Trace can answer, his face expressing the same confusion as his cousin’s.

“During your last tour and-”

“On the tour bus,” Justin, Rachel and Trace say together and Trace grins nodding.

“You sick bastard,” Rachel chuckles and Trace smirks at her.

“Justin? Come on man…try and outdo that one,” Trace challenges and Justin sighs, screwing up his face in thought then he grins slyly.

“Three words,” he says, holding up three fingers and looking from Trace to Rachel and finally to Charlotte, smiling at the way her green eyes dance even though they’re hazy from the alcohol, the way he has her full attention. The way her bottom lip is pulled between her teeth in anticipation of his answer.

“Yes?” Rachel asks with a giggle and he looks around, shaking his head, suddenly remembering where they are and what they’re doing.

He clears his throat, pulling his shoulders back again as he says, “Madison. Square. Garden.”

The other three blink at him in awe and he smiles, satisfied as he drains the last of his glass, smacking his lips, wishing there was more.

“Not…not…” Rachel says, not even daring to finish as she eyes Justin incredulously and he grins cheekily at her.

“On stage? Yeah,” he grins wiggling his glass and enjoying the sound the ice makes. “It was like four hours before the show. No one was around.”

“Okay you fucking win dude,” Trace says raising his hands in the air in concession. “You fuckin’ bastard.”

“No wait,” Justin says, his head turning slowly and he grins at Charlotte who has her head tipped back, trying to coax a piece of ice into her mouth from the bottom of her glass. She tilts her head forward, looking at them all slightly bewildered.

“Wha’?” she asks, the ice cube in her mouth inhibiting her speech and Justin grins.

“Most outrageous place you’ve head sex, Charlie,” Justin says smirking at her triumphantly, his stomach curling in anticipation of her answer. “And don’t say in the weather van because I’ll know you’re lying.” He chuckles to himself.

“Oh I dunno,” Charlotte says, giggling as she looks down into her glass, crunching the ice cube between her teeth and the other occupants of the room hoop and holler in protest.

“You gotta say,” Trace says banging his hand on the table and they all shush him, giggling to themselves.

“You gotta,” Rachel says nodding and Charlotte purses her lips.

“Okay…” she takes a deep breath. “Washington Square Park.”

Rachel and Trace both burst out laughing and Justin’s eyes look like they’re going to explode from his head. Charlotte covers her face with her hands, feeling slightly embarrassed but not near as much as she would had she been sober. She was having fun. She could divulge some information and it wasn’t like they had sticks up their asses like Amelia or something. They were just having a good time. And she had to admit the look on Justin’s face was priceless.

“Washington Square Park?” Justin asks, slightly flabbergasted. His Charlie…who knew?

“Did you do it on a bench or something?” Rachel asks with a giggle and Charlotte shakes her head.

“Against the arch,” she says and they all cheer, laughing and goading her, causing her to blush again.

“That’s kinky Char,” Trace says and then nods approvingly, picking up the bottle of Jack and motioning her forward. She holds out her glass for him to fill. Why not? Like Justin said, they were on vacation. “I like it,” he winks cheekily at her and she wiggles her eyebrows at him in return. They all giggle. “Favorite position?” Trace exclaims and they all groan.

“What the fuck is this, Trace, twenty questions?” Rachel asks, shaking her head as she reaches for the bottle and tips some more into her own glass.

“Yeah,” Trace replies sipping from his glass. “The dirty twenty questions.” He chuckles at his own joke. He elbows Rachel in the ribs. “Favorite position?”

“Oh I don’t know,” Rachel replies, leaning against him, her eyelids drooping as she stifles a yawn with the back of her hand.

Trace scowls at her as she rests her head on his shoulder. “Justin?” he asks, trying to shrug her off him and she punches him in the arm.

Justin smirks. “Oh I dunno,” he says as he rolls onto his back, folding his arms behind his head Trace and Charlotte snigger.

“Yeah you can’t even remember,” Trace says sniggering and Rachel giggles, her eyes cracking open to glance at Justin who scowls. “It’s been too long huh?”

“I like hittin it from the back,” Justin spats and Charlotte covers her mouth to mask her sharp in take of breath at his statement. He screws up his face in contemplation. “Girl-on-top is nice too,” he adds as an afterthought, gripping the air over his groin and rolling his hips up in a way that makes Charlotte blush and look away. He chuckles to himself, reaching a hand over his head towards Trace and his best friend gives him a high five the best he can in his drunken state.

“I’m a from-the-back man myself,” Trace says, swirling the whiskey in his glass before downing it and Justin chuckles.

“Yeah it has a tendency to go better for you when they can’t see you,” Rachel deadpans and they all burst into giggles again, Trace scowling.

“Yeah yeah. Charlotte!” He exclaims and Charlotte jumps, nearly spilling her drink all over herself. “Your turn…favorite position?”

“Well it depends,” Charlotte replies, giggling as she brings her glass to her lips and the boys let out a low “ooooooo” in response.

“Depends on what?” Justin asks, his eyes dancing as he stares at her, licking his lips involuntarily.

He likes the way her hair is curling softly over her shoulders, how her brown locks frame her face, drawing less attention to the roundness but he likes it. He likes how she’s all soft curves and warm smiles. He likes the sound of her laugh and the little dimple she has in her right cheek that’s only visible when her smile is at its widest. He likes the little freckle just over her left eyebrow. He shakes his head trying to clear it. Maybe he’s had too much to drink.

“Yeah depends on what?” Trace asks smarmily and Charlotte gives him a devilish smile.

“Depends on how big your dick is,” she says and Justin relishes in the shiver that shakes through his body. “Because if you have a small dick my favorite position is with another mother fucker.”

The entire room erupts in laughter and Charlotte curls her knees to her chest, burying her face in her arms that are crossed atop them. She feels her face burning and wonders what on earth has come over her. She is well aware of her tendency to stick her foot in her mouth but that was a little much. She lifts her face, peeking carefully at Justin who is wiping his face, still chuckling slightly to himself. She sighs. They’re just goofing around. It feels good to be able to joke and play. This is the best night she’s had in awhile.

“Justin?”

Everyone freezes, except for Justin who scrambles into a sitting position, trying to pull his face into a stoic, easy expression. Amelia’s face peeks out the screen door and peers at all of them, her eyes slightly bleary from sleep. Charlotte keeps her eyes on the floor, forcing her brain to focus, doing her very best not to move.

“Yeah?” Justin says, his voice deeper than usual in his attempt to sound sober and Trace makes the strangled snorting sound of someone trying to keep their mouth closed while laughing.

Amelia narrows her eyes. “Are you coming to bed? It’s late,” she says, her eyes moving from one face to the other.

“Yeah…yeah sure I’ll be up in a sex,” his eyes widen and Trace and Rachel completely lose it, leaning on each other as they laugh. Charlotte crushes one hand in the other, biting her lip hard to keep the laughter at bay. “I mean…sec…sorry.”

“You’re drunk,” Amelia says with a disapproving sigh and Justin purses his lips.

“Fuckin’ hammered,” Trace giggles and Rachel shushes him drunkenly, avoiding Amelia’s gaze.

“Of course,” Amelia says with a sigh. “How could I expect any less when you hang out with…” she trails as her steely gaze falls on Trace, “him.”

“What’s wrong with me?” Trace asks a hard edge to his voice and even Justin isn’t drunk enough to not see that this could end badly.

“Nothin’ man,” Justin says patting him on the shoulder as he pulls himself up from the love seat, wobbling only slightly. “I’ll be up in a minute babe. I’m just gonna get Rachel and Trace settled in the living room.”

Amelia rolls her eyes and turns on her heel, letting the screen door slam behind her. Charlotte cringes, everything suddenly coming more sharply into focus and her brain clears for the first time in hours.  The fun is over.

“Why do you do that?” Trace asks, squinting his eyes at Justin as he tries to pull him to his feet.

“What?” Justin grunts, hoisting Trace up and his friend leans heavily against him, looking at him blearily.

“Let her do that!” Trace exclaims, tripping over his own feet as Justin tries to maneuver him around the table.

“Let her do what?” Justin asks with a sigh and then glances at Rachel. “Ray you think you could help here?”

“Sure,” she slurs, trying to pull herself to her own feet but stumbles, sliding back down again. “erm….”

“I got it,” Charlotte says, standing and the entire room spins but she somehow manages to stay upright, stumbling over to Trace, slipping his other arm over her shoulders.

“You know ezzacly what,” Trace spats as they step carefully up the stairs. “You jus’ let her…walk all over you!”

Trace stumbles and all of them nearly fall to the kitchen tile, something that only moments ago would have made them scream with laughter but now nothing seems funny anymore. Justin keeps his head down, trying to focus all his energy into his muscles to carry his best friend into the living room, saying a silent prayer that his drunken ramble ends. But it doesn’t.

“She jus’ took over your life dude,” Trace whines, his feet dragging and Justin wills him to move faster. “She’s like a fucking black hole.”

“Come on, Trace you’re drunk,” Charlotte says softly, her nails digging into his ribs and he wriggles in their arms.

“Did he tell you he missed my granddad’s funeral?” Trace slurs and Justin feels his face burn, his stomach churning. He feels he could be sick and it’s not from the alcohol. “That man was like my fucking father, J and all you did was send fuckin’ flowers.” Trace turns to Charlotte. “He never would have done that before. He would have been right fucking there with me. It’s all fucking her.”

“Shut up, Trace,” Charlotte snaps, her tone firm as they drop him onto the couch. “You’re drunk you don’t know what you’re saying.”

Justin takes a step back, watching as Trace lays down blearily pulling one of his mother’s throw pillows under his head, his legs hanging off the side of the couch and he looks as if he’s just fallen over while sitting. Regret tastes bitter in the back of his throat and he wishes for the millionth time he would have been there for his friend. He should have been there. He opens his mouth to say as much but Trace’s eyes sink closed and he’s dozing off within seconds, his anger forgotten as the alcohol pulls him into sleep.

Charlotte reaches for the blanket on the back of the couch and covers him awkwardly, her eyes flitting to Justin who looks as if he’s been slapped. She turns to him, placing a hand on his chest her green eyes crashing into his and she pats him gently, trying to soothe the ache in his chest and he marvels that she even knows it’s there. His hand comes up and covers hers sighing and Charlotte can smell the whiskey on his breath. Somewhere in her brain she knows she should step back, that this is dangerous given her earlier revelation but she can’t help but relish the warmth of his palm over the back of her hand, the roughness of his fingertips against her knuckles. His thumb rubs over the back of her hand and she knows she should step back. And he knows he should let go but they don’t. They just stand and stare up into each other’s hazy eyes, waiting…waiting for something to snap them together or snap them apart.

“Hey!”

They jump, springing apart like opposite ends of a magnet and turn to see Rachel looking at them blearily from the doorway. She leans heavily on the doorframe and grins at them sleepily before trudging into the room, falling onto the couch next to Trace. She pulls the blanket off of him and around herself and Trace grunts in his sleep, reaching for it but Rachel slaps at his hand, curling up behind him and laying against him.

Justin and Charlotte watch them for a moment, their brains too slow and drunk to really do much else. They look at each other after a moment and that feeling is back, the tightness in her chest, the racing of his heart and the feeling of waiting, as if something were supposed to happen but wasn’t.

“JUSTIN!”

They both jump, stepping farther away from each other as Amelia’s voice rings down the stairwell, shattering the moment and Justin turns towards the doorway, trudging out into the foyer. Charlotte wonders what exactly she was waiting for.

The clock on the bedside table reads 2:16 and Charlotte can’t sleep. She rolls onto her back and stares up at the ceiling, the spackle design fuzzy in the darkness. Her head falls to the side and she can see the moon peeking in through the curtains, throwing a thin shaft of light across the end of the bed. She sighs, sitting up finally. Her mind is alert and focused, no hint of sleepiness anywhere. A lot of it has to do with the fact that she hadn’t been able to pull herself out of bed before noon that day, her head threatening to split in half if she even dared move. When she finally did drag herself downstairs, she found Justin and Amelia sitting at the kitchen table, Amelia picking disinterestedly at a turkey sandwich while Justin looked like death warmed over, nursing a glass of soda water.

Charlotte rolls over, burying her face in her pillow, trying to banish Justin from her thoughts but she is perilous to stop the hazy memory of his chest beneath her fingertips, his palm warm against the back of her hand. And his eyes...god his eyes glowing dark navy blue even in the pitch black living room, even in the dimness of her drunken brain.

She groans into the pillow, punching the sides of it violently. Why couldn’t she just sleep? Why did she have to be here in this house, spending Christmas with his family? Why did she have to be in his bed, sleeping on sheets that he’s probably slept in a million times with her face shoved in a pillow that’s probably held his head-

“Alright,” Charlotte growls to herself, sitting up and swinging her legs over the side of the bed.

She sighs heavily, letting her head hang back as she listens to the stillness of the room, broken only by the wind gusting every now and then, rattling the window pane. She stands, tugging her thermal shirt straight around her waist, shaking out the legs of her flannel sleep pants. She looks around blearily wondering what to do now. It was – she glances at the clock – 2:23. What was there to do at 2:23 in the morning?

Charlotte runs her hands over her face, padding carefully to the door even though she knows the floor is clear but the unfamiliar room has her cautious. She pulls the door open, peeking down the hallway cast in a soft yellow glow from the dimmed lights. Her head snaps the other direction when she hears a noise, a soft tinkling sound and she squints, trying to see as far down the hall as possible but everything fades into darkness at the start of the banister.

She takes a cautious step out of her room, taking small strides towards the balcony overlooking the foyer and the tinkling gets just slightly louder, allowing her to discern a familiar melody. She can see a soft glowing light coming from the living room and she’s perilous to stop herself as she hears a voice, his voice, just a dull hum muffled by the walls separating them. Charlotte isn’t the only one who couldn’t sleep tonight.

As her foot hits the bottom step, her stomach turns over itself in anticipation her socked feet padding quietly towards the entryway to the living room. Justin is sitting behind the piano, his eyes watching his hands as they dance over the keys, a glass of deep red wine sitting on the top of the instrument. The Christmas tree is lit up behind him, the colored lights twinkling merrily, making the room glow hazily. His body moves with the music, his head nodding every time he switches chords, his plush bottom lip tugged between his teeth. His hair is a wild muss of curls, a day’s growth of beard covering his handsome face. Charlotte has to cover her mouth with her hand to conceal her gasp as he opens his mouth to sing.

“Have yourself a merry little Christmas / Let your heart be liiiiiight / From now on our troubles will be out of siiiiiight…”  

Charlotte’s hands press to her chest, trying to suppress the lump in her throat as she listens, her eyes never leaving him as he sways slowly. She tenses when he lifts his head but his eyes are closed, lost in the beauty of the song and the feeling of his voice as it leaves him.

“Have yourself a merry little Christmas / Make the Yule-tide gaaaaay / From now on our troubles will be miles awaaaaaay…”  

She watches him and she marvels at his talent, how he can make even the easiest song sound like it was a masterpiece, making it his own with little trills of the piano and slight inflections in his voice, his soft tenor ebbing and flowing over the notes in a way that Charlotte has never heard before. She is captivated, hanging on every note her eyes never leaving his face and marveling at the pure joy that radiates off of him.

“Here we are as in olden daaaaays / Happy golden daaaaays gone byyyyyy / Faithful friends who are dear to us gather near to us-”  

His voice cuts off as his eyes open, his fingers stuttering over the keys when he sees Charlotte standing in the doorway. She jumps, looking as if she’s about to turn tail and run, her green eyes wide. He ducks his head, a nervous laugh pulling from his throat and he can feel his cheeks burn. He thought he was alone, the only one awake. After all it was almost three in the morning. In fact there was no reason that he himself shouldn’t have been asleep. Amelia had forced him to get up at seven-thirty despite the bone crushing hangover he was sporting. He couldn’t help but feel that she relished in his suffering, saw it as punishment for going against her wishes. But he was probably just being overly sensitive. He shakes his head, clearing his throat as his fingers resume their work, raising one hand to wave Charlotte over as he continues.  

“-once more.”  

Charlotte bites her lip, stepping cautiously into the room, sidestepping the overstuffed chairs to stand awkwardly next to the piano. Her long dark hair cascades over her shoulders and she looks downright adorable in an oversized thermal shirt and flannel sleep pants that pool around the tops of her socked feet. He smiles, his fingers coaxing flourished notes out of the piano as he slides over a little on the bench, nodding his head down at the empty space next to him. She hesitates for a moment before settling next to him and he’s assailed with the sent of oranges, maybe mangos. She reaches up to tuck her hair nervously behind her ear and he wonders what kind of shampoo she uses. He shakes his head.  

“Through the years we all will be together / If the Fates allooooow” he sings and then he lets his eyes fall closed, forgetting about everything as the piano crescendos and the only thing there is is the music. “Hang a shining star upon the highest booooooouuuuugh.” His hands reach down the keys, playing a chord and then a higher one and then a higher one still, his arm pressing against Charlotte’s before coming back to the middle again, pausing just briefly. “And have yourself… a merry little Christmas…” He pauses, waiting and when Charlotte takes her eyes off his hands to look at his face, her eyes meeting his he grins at her, “…noooow.” 

His fingers ripple down the keys in a flourish before ending on a tinkling note and a low cord, the silence around them electric with the sound that had just ended. Charlotte’s heart is thudding in her chest, excitement racing through her veins. She now understands why all those girls used to tremble and cry at his concerts. He is awe inspiring.

“That was amazing,” she says softly and he scrunches his nose, shrugging as he plucks out another melody, one she doesn’t recognize.

“Can’t sleep?” he asks after a moment and she nods, shifting slightly on the bench and her hip presses to his and for the first time she doesn’t cringe or shy away. “Yeah me either.”

“It’s what I get for sleeping till noon today,” Charlotte replies with a sigh, reaching up to rub her eye. “Your family must think I’m horrible.”

Justin snorts waving one hand. “My family loves you.”

Charlotte feels her ears redden, her stomach tightening and she tries to fight it, to fight the swell of pride. She’s playing a dangerous game and she should be ashamed of herself. He’s engaged. She shakes her head, her hands moving instinctively to the keys, poised and ready to press down and she catches herself in time to stop the action but not before Justin notices.

“Do you play?” he asks, his voice laced with pleasant surprise and Charlotte shakes her head adamantly.

“No…no no I just…I had lessons when I was younger…but I…I don’t-”

“Come on,” he says, scooting further away from her on the bench, giving her more room. “Come on play something.”

“Oh…Justin,” Charlotte says holding up a hand and he grins at the way her cheeks flame. “No…I…no…it’s been…jeez it’s been forever since I played.”

“Yeah yeah me too,” he says grinning as he nudges her with his elbow. “Come on please?”

She bites her lip, eyeing him hesitantly and he nudges her again, his boney elbow digging into her ribs. She arches her body, trying to avoid his prodding and slaps at his arm, scoffing annoyed but she can’t suppress the laugh that pulls from her throat.

“Fine, fine FINE!!!” she exclaims holding her hands up and he quits his jabbing at her, waiting with an amused smile gracing his lips.

He watches her roll her shoulders, clearing her throat as she tucks her hair behind her ears nervously. She’s wearing a pair of tiny silver studs and he likes the way they glint in the soft light of the room. They’re so subtle, so her. He shakes his head as she poises her hands over the keys, her fingertips resting against the cool ivory. She frowns, curling her fingers back against her palms.

“I can’t think of a song,” she says turning to Justin slightly her hands resting back against her thighs and he squints in thought.

“Do you knoooooooow…” he draws out the word before pausing, scrunching his mouth to the side as he ponders and it takes everything Charlotte has not to giggle at how utterly adorable he is. “White Christmas?”

Charlotte thinks for a second before placing her hands hesitantly over the keys. “I think so yeah.”

Her fingers press down, drawing out lazy notes that seem so dim in comparison to what he’d coaxed out of the instrument just moments before. She bites her lip, almost embarrassed by it, her fingers slowing and Justin begins to hum, forcing her to continue.

“Not bad,” he says nodding his head because it’s true, she wasn’t bad. She wasn’t going to win a Grammy but she wasn’t bad. Maybe with a little guidance she could get better. She needed to loosen up a little, show a little more confidence. “When’d you learn to play?”

“My mom got me lessons when I was nine,” she replies shrugging, counting the rhythm in her head as her fingers pluck the keys methodically. “You?”

“Oh I taught myself,” Justin replies with a shrug, reaching past her for his wine glass and Charlotte stops looking at him perplexed.

“You taught yourself?” she asks and he nods, taking a sip of his wine and she shakes her head. “Figures.”

“What’s that mean?” he asks with a chuckle his eyes not leaving her as she nods her head with the slow count she’s plucking out. She doesn’t look at him, just shakes her head and he knows she’s just keeping her mouth shut. “No really Charlie,” he coaxes, wanting to know what she thought. What she thought of him.

Trace’s little confession last night had been a pretty heavy blow. To know that not only had he let his best friend down but that the one person in the world that truly got him, didn’t get why he was marrying Amelia, didn’t get why he loved her. He wishes he’d been drunk enough to just forget it, forget the accusation and hurt in his best friend’s eyes, to forget the way Charlotte had refused to look at him. He felt like an asshole. He was an asshole.

“You’re…you’re kind of good at everything,” she replies hesitantly and he chuckles, breathing a sigh of slight relief.

“I used to be,” he replies with a sigh, throwing his head back and draining the rest of the glass. He used to be a lot of things.

“What’s that mean?” Charlotte prods gently, her fingers stopping and the silence is deafening.

“Its means…” Justin says after a moment, his fingers beginning to coax out another beautiful melody but the tone is more somber than the ones before, “I don’t know what it means.”

Charlotte nods slightly in concession, her eyes roaming over his handsome face, hard lines drawn across his forehead, his mouth tight in the way that she has come to associate with his displeasure. His eyes are dark, not looking at her and she knows he has something on his mind. She wants him to know that he can confide in her if he needs to, that he can talk to her, that she won’t go blabbing it to Us Weekly. She sighs bracing herself.

“No really,” she prods softly and his hands stutter on the keys, his eyes flicking to her.

He tenses, bristling slightly as he continues his melody again, fully prepared to ignore her prodding. He doesn’t have to answer to her. Who was she to pry into his life anyway? Everyone always wanted to know everything. All the sordid details, all the juicy bits. No one really cared what he thought or how he felt unless they were using it for something. His eyes flick to her and she looks away, her bottom lip pulled between her teeth and he instantly regrets his frosty brush off. Everyone wanted to know everything but Charlotte, Charlotte never asked for anything. She just wasn’t like that. Charlotte never wanted anything from him, so if she was asking just this once, he figured he could at least try to answer.

“I guess…” he starts slowly, concentrating on his fingers working smoothly over the keys. “I guess it’s just not really the same anymore.”

He chances a glance at Charlotte and finds her peering up at him interestedly but not in the way he was used to. Her green eyes show curiosity but they lack that hunger he was so used to seeing when he was prodded about his life. She genuinely wants to know what he thinks, what he feels and he wonders what that says about him and his life that it surprises him. In any case, now she’s got him curious.

“I see,” she says nodding when he doesn’t continue and he can tell she wants to ask him more but she doesn’t and he smiles. It’s not everyday someone just dropped a subject because he didn’t want to talk about it.

“You know when I was a kid…” he trails, his fingers finding a familiar melody and Charlotte smiles recognizing it instantly as her favorite song. He’d played it for her before, the first time she’d ever heard him play. God, that seemed so long ago. “I used to race home from school just to play this thing. Couldn’t wait to get outta that stuffy classroom and in here where I could breathe.”

Charlotte watches him take a deep breath and then let it out in a sigh as his fingers continued to work over the keys coaxing the haunting melody from the instrument. She could sit here forever and watch him do this, listen to the beautiful music he’s capable of making. She wonders why he stopped. She barely knew him and she could see that this was what he lived for. She wonders what possible force could snuff this part of him out.

“You know when I was a kid,” Charlotte says and Justin turns his head to her grinning. “I would race home from school so I could get in the fort my brothers made in the back yard before they could.” Justin smiles. “They’d never let me in otherwise. We’d spend the entire afternoon fighting.” She pauses her face crumpling. “Your way seems more productive.” She adds and he laughs.

“Fort huh?” he asks, cutting his eyes at her and she nods, her head tilted to the side as she watches his hands move slowly over the keys. “Trace and I had a tree house.”

“Really?” she asks and he nods, grinning at the memories of running though the woods, racing to see who could get there first.

“Yeah, it’s still out there,” he says, nodding towards the window and Charlotte turns her head to look as if she could see it but the only thing she can see is their reflection against the black night.

“That’s cool,” she says and he nods silence descending on them. “I’d like to see it sometime,” she adds and then mentally kicks herself for how retarded she sounds.

“Really?” he asks turning to her and the music stops. “You wanna go now?”

Charlotte blinks at him slowly and responds the only way one can when they are caught so completely off guard. “Sure.”

***

“Careful,” Justin says, his hands reaching around Charlotte to catch her by the elbows as she stumbles over a fallen tree limb.

Even with the full moon and the Maglite in Justin’s hand Charlotte can still barely keep upright. She envies Justin’s lithe grace as he takes purposeful strides, charging through the woods like he lives here. Which he does, she guesses but that was beside the point. She looks over her shoulder and she can no longer see the porch light through the trees, nothing but pitch blackness in their wake. She wonders if this was a good idea. What if someone were to wake up and find them gone? What would they think?

Something catches on her pajama pants tugging and her heart rate goes through the roof, a small squealing sound pulling from the back of her throat as she reaches out to grab the back of Justin’s jacket, quickening her pace. He turns, shining the beam of light at her feet and she sees a thorny bramble caught on the hem of her sleep pants and he chuckles, reaching down to pull it away.

“You okay there Al?” he asks, examining the piece of foliage before tossing it aside and she scowls at him, putting a hand up in front of her face when he shines the light in her eyes.

“Yes,” she spats, reaching out to force the beam of light towards the ground and he chuckles.

“Who knew you were such a girly girl,” Justin responds and Charlotte’s scowl deepens, the ten year old that was constantly tormented by all her brother’s friends for being a “sissy girl” rising to the surface.

“I’m not,” she replies, snatching the flash light from him and charging ahead.

“Where are you going?” he asks and she turns, the light finding him and he’s standing in the same place with his arms crossed over his chest, smiling smugly, every breath coming out in white puffs.

“To find your tree house,” she says, pushing a piece of hair out of her face her finger clumsy and weak from the cold and he chuckles, pointing.

“Well it’s right there but if you wanna go trompin’ around the woods for awhile we can do that too.” He grins at her and she scowls in a way that he can’t help but find truly adorable.

Charlotte turns, finding an old wooden ladder leaning against a tall oak. She lets her light travel up it, finding a tiny ramshackle hut held by two of the thickest branches of the tree, the ladder disappearing up into a crudely cut square hole. She hears the rustling of leaves behind her and turns in time to see Justin standing next to her, peering up at the tree house, his breath coming out in curling clouds.

“So are we going up?” she asks after a moment and he turns to her slightly bewildered.

“You wanna go up?” he asks and he seems genuinely perplexed. Charlotte laughs.

“Well yeah,” she says, elbowing him. “What did you think I was just gonna have you drag me out here at three in the morning to look at the damn thing?”

Justin chuckles shaking his head as he steps forward to grip the ladder, applying his foot hesitantly to a rung making sure it’s secure before tugging himself upward. He crouches low as he takes a cautious step into the tree house, the boards creaking loudly under his weight. He wonders briefly if this thing can take their weight, then he remembers all crazy things he and his friends had gotten up to in here over the years and decides not to worry about it. Charlotte’s head and shoulders appear through the hole in the floor, her breath coming in white puffs as she swings the flashlight around, throwing light on the walls. He grins, taking the flashlight from her and holding out his hand as he helps her the rest of the way inside.

Charlotte grasps his hand, his fingers warm around hers and she plants her foot cautiously on the floor of the tree house, listening to it groan under her weight. She tenses as she crouches next to him, opening her eyes wide, trying to see in the near darkness. He waddles backwards into the open space of the tiny room before letting his body tumble back and the old boards whine in protest both of them tensing, waiting and when nothing happens they chuckle at each other. Charlotte crawls closer to him, making sure she’s clear of the opening in the floor before folding her legs and settling down, watching as Justin moves the flashlight around the walls. Light splashes on old posters of Michael Jackson, Boys II Men and Michael Jordan, newspaper clippings of concert reviews and sports scores, and old flyers announcing performances at school assemblies and pep rallies. There are ticket stubs from concerts long past and old notes yellowed and worn from years long gone.

“This is really cool,” Charlotte says, reaching out to touch a faded ticket stub from a Beach Boys concert. “You’ve just always loved music huh?”

Justin chuckles. “Yeah,” he says with a sigh. “It’s just a part of me, I dunno.”

“Why’d you quit?” she asks lightly, trying to mask the real curiosity in her voice, glancing at him and an uncomfortable look comes across his face.

He chuckles shaking his head at her and pressing his lips together, not wanting to say. Charlotte nods in silent concession.

Justin sighs, glancing around and memories fill him. Spring days and summer nights just hanging out with friends talking about basketball and girls and music and whatever else was on their minds. He hadn’t seen some of those guys in years. Last he heard Kyle owned the machine shop in town and Nick had moved to Nashville for some girl. They’d all just drifted away from each other somehow.

“Me and my friends used to chill up here on the weekends when we were ten,” he sighs, shaking away the unpleasant thoughts, reaching back to lean on his hands

His fingers brush against something cold and metallic, the sound of aluminum bouncing off each other echoing in the silence. He frowns, pulling out an empty Coors Light can and chuckles tossing it into the darkness, listening to it clatter along the floor.

“And Trace and I drank up here when we were sixteen.”

Charlotte laughs. “You and Trace have known each other a long time huh?” she asks and he nods, that tight feeling coming into his chest again when he thinks about his best friend. “How’d you meet?”

“Oh our moms are good friends,” he says dismissively and he looks out the little window into the darkness. “He just gets me you know? Or he used to.”

He tenses. Why’d he say that? Justin’s eyes find hers in the darkness and he can see her pretty clearly even in the darkness, the light from the moon giving her an almost ethereal glow. Her cheeks are pink from the cold, her lips full and red and her green eyes pierce the darkness in a way that makes his heart beat faster. She’s looking at him hesitantly as if she has a million questions but she’s holding them all back. One thing he really likes about Charlotte is that, in a world where everyone wears a mask to hide their intentions, he can read her like a book.

“He gets you,” Charlotte says delicately and Justin shakes his head, shifting uncomfortably.

“I dunno,” he says, shifting again and he can feel his foot tingle, falling asleep from his odd sitting position.

He grunts, shifting to so he can fold his legs in front of him and when he does his knees press against Charlotte’s, feeling her tense from the contact. He expects her to pull back like she usually does but this time she doesn’t, relaxing after a few seconds and it’s comfortable. He feels comfortable with her. He knows she’s not going to freak out on him for reasons he doesn’t completely understand. He’s not entirely sure but he thinks he trusts her.

“He does, Justin,” she says softly and he glances up to find her looking at him steadily. “Maybe he just needs a little help in this instance. Even best friends can’t read your mind.”

A smile pulls at his lips. “I just…I feel like he’s…” he trails and Charlotte’s knee nudges his encouragingly.

“What?” she asks softly and he sighs.

“I feel like we’re not as close as we used to be. I mean I don’t have any friends aside from him really. Not anymore…” he trails, shifting uncomfortably at his confession and he chances a look up at her, finding her looking at him, a mix of empathy and understanding painting her face. He never really realized how pretty she was until right now. She wasn’t Amelia and in the back of his mind he knew that was a good thing.

“Why is that?” she asks gently and he blinks slowly, trying to remember what they were talking about.

“I dunno,” he says, shifting again but he thinks he may have an inkling. “I just…Trace…” he says by way of shifting the subject and he tenses realizing he didn’t exactly want the subject shifted there either.

“…is your best friend,” Charlotte replies and he looks up at her in time to see her nod authoritatively. “Guys like you two don’t just drift away from each other Justin. He’s like your brother. I barely know you two and that’s obvious.”

Justin smiles but there’s a bitterness to it. “I missed his grandad’s funeral,” he says softly and his breath is pulled from his lungs at the unexpected pain this statement brings. “Ben was like his dad. I’m his best friend. I should have been there.”

He sighs, fisting his hands on his knees, frustrated with himself. How could he have done something like that? At the time it hadn’t seemed like that big of a deal. He was a thousand miles away and in a sense New York was an entire world away from their sleepy little town in Tennessee. He’d sent flowers. He’d called. Why was it now that he was home that he could see how glaringly wrong he’d been? He jumps as Charlotte’s cold hand wraps around his fist and the gesture comforts him even though he doesn’t deserve it.

“You screwed up,” she says and his head hangs lower ready for the onslaught. “But you can’t keep beating yourself up over it. You can’t go back. The only thing you can do is tell him you’re sorry and never let anything like it happen again.”

Justin lifts his head, blinking slowly back at her. Well that was unexpected. So often when he’d fucked up he had to listen to a forty minute diatribe on how he could have done differently or why he had screwed up so egregiously. It was always his fault, he should have known better, he should have done something differently. But not this time. Not with Charlotte. She was so different from Amelia.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Charlotte asks, a nervous chuckle escaping her lips, her hand tugging back from him slowly and he smiles, shaking his head.

“I…just…” he sighs and then finally just lets himself be honest for once. “You’re so different from her.”

“Amelia?” Charlotte asks and then she chuckles, an uncomfortable look coming over her face before she looks at him for a moment and decides to say whatever it is she’s holding back. “Is that a compliment or…”

“No!” Justin exclaims chuckling and shaking his head so that he misses the look of disappointment on her face. “No it was just an observation.”

“You two seem so…” she trails and he can tell she wants to say more but she’s holding back.

“Different?” he provides for her and she nods, smiling sheepishly. “We didn’t use to be.”

“Yeah so I’ve heard,” Charlotte says and then sighs her words coming out in a rush. “What happened?”

“You’ve wanted to ask that for awhile huh?” Justin asks with a chuckle and she blushes, ducking her head.

“You don’t have to-”

He holds up a hand. “No it’s fine.” He takes a deep breath, screwing up his face in thought. How to explain this… “Okay have you ever met Amelia’s dad?”

Charlotte looks back at him puzzled. “No I don’t think so…”

Justin chuckles. “Preston…Preston is… intense.” He pauses. “Er…wait…” he pauses thinking and then takes a deep breath, starting again. “Okay Amelia and I met at this industry party,” he says. “Thrown by her father,” he adds as if to try and tie it in to his former statement. “I was there because I had done some production on a song with Jackson Raymes and I was kissing ass trying to get them to let him put it on the damn record,” he rolls his eyes and Charlotte smiles, “And I was standing there talking to…somebody…and,” A slow smile pulls at his lips as he remembers. “And I look over and there is this…stunning woman. I mean trust me Charlie I’ve seen a lot of beautiful women but she, god she stole my breath you know?” He peers at her through the darkness and she smiles at him but he’s so caught up in the memory he doesn’t notice how tense it is. “So I kinda milled around the party, slipping in questions about her and when I finally got up the courage to talk to her she turned me down flat, completely ignored me.”

He chuckles shaking his head.

“Now that was something I wasn’t really used to at that point in my life,” he confides, blushing slightly and Charlotte giggles. “So I sent her flowers the next day, saying it was a pleasure to have met her and that I hoped we’d run into each other again. And we did in the studio the next day. It turns out that she found out from her father that I was working with one of their artists and she had agreed to listen to the tracks and help choose which ones should go on the album, which made me nervous because I liked her and didn’t want to have to tell her that she didn’t know anything about music.”

He laughs again and so does Charlotte. He’s so cocky sometimes.

“But luckily for me she did know what she was talking about, which made me want her even more,” he sighs, shaking his head. “So we argue for a couple hours about the tracks and finally settle on an agreement and I’m just about to ask her if maybe she wants to go to dinner and she tells me she has to be at some benefit and asks if I’d join her. I agreed and I get all dressed up and I’m nervous as hell because I’m sure its this big debutante thing and here I am some musician from the boonies in a monkey suit pretending I know how to waltz-”

“You didn’t know how to waltz?” Charlotte asks perplexed and he shifts.

“Well actually yeah I did but that’s beside the point,” he replies and she giggles at him, nudging him with her knee again and he smiles.

“Anyway we go to this party and its so fucking boring and awkward as hell because every time we would start to talk or dance, some colleague of her dad’s or friend of her mother’s would whisk us off into this asinine conversation about show ponies and art auctions,” he rolls his eyes again, “And just when I think the night is doomed, Amelia leans into me and whispers in my ear, ‘you wanna get the fuck outta here?’”

Charlotte’s jaw drops, her eyes widening. “You’re lying.”

“Sweat to God,” Justin says holding up his right hand and Charlotte giggles.

“No way I don’t believe you.”

“Wait, wait lemme finish,” Justin says and they shift excitedly. “It gets better trust me. So we go outside, get in her limo and she takes me to this club in Brooklyn. I’m talking a seedy run down little place and here we are in evening wear…” He shakes his head, grinning wildly at the memory. “We danced on the bar and did body shots and heard this amazing band that you may know today as The Kill-”

Charlotte’s eyes widen. “No way!”

“Yeah I know,” he says nodding. “Amelia had known them for years and she got them gigs at various places using her father’s name. I told her after we’d gotten together that she should pitch them to her dad. She finally did and they just blew up. It was insane.”

“Wow,” Charlotte says breathlessly, watching him and marveling at how his face lights up at the memory.

“Yeah,” Justin says and his face darkens and it’s as if someone has turned out the lights. “After that her dad used her more and more for A&R because she was in the scene and she had a good ear. She still does she just doesn’t use it very often.” He sighs. “As she moved up in the company she wanted to succeed in the business end more than discover the bands and she struggled a lot with being taken seriously. You know the whole ‘oh she’s a party girl only here because her daddy got her the job’ thing. She kinda became a hardass.”

“Kinda?” Charlotte snorts before she can stop herself and she blushes. Justin chuckles.

“This business is hard Charlie,” he says somewhat chastising and Charlotte looks at her hands. “People take what they can get from you and you have to put up a strong front to keep the vultures away.” He shrugs pausing before adding. “I think it has a lot to do with living up to her father. Those are some pretty big shoes to fill you know?” He shrugs again, “And I mean it’s what she wants. And Amelia always gets what she wants.”

Charlotte chuckles nodding as she peers up at him and before she can stop herself she asks, “And what do you want?”

Justin jerks slightly, the smile falling from his face and he’s shocked by the question. What does he want? It’d been so long since someone even thought to ask him. So often he was told what he was doing, where he was going, what he was getting. His opinion never really mattered which is fine he guesses because so often it was stuff he didn’t really care about like flowers and paper samples. But now that someone was finally asking him the indignation over that fact finally hits him. When had he become such a damn doormat?

“Justin?” Charlotte asks softly, her hand reaching out to rest on his knee and he jerks in surprise causing her to snatch her hand back quickly. It’s then that he realizes he’d been frowning deeply.

“I…” he says and he looks up at her the words dying in his throat, his mind still working furiously towards an end.

Maybe Trace was right? Maybe he did let Amelia walk all over him. But no, that was just her personality. Why was he getting upset that she always got her way when she knew exactly what she wanted and he himself said he didn’t really have much of an opinion? She was strong willed and if he had to bend every once in awhile that was fine. But when was the last time Amelia bent for him? He shook his head, not wanting to think about these things now. He glances out the window and it’s lighter than it was before. Was the sun really coming up? Had they spent that much time out here?

“Justin?” Charlotte asks again, not touching him this time but her voice pulls his attention back. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah!” He exclaims plastering a smile on his face and Charlotte smiles back hesitantly and he ignores the fact that he can tell she doesn’t buy it. He shifts nervously. “You know what I want?” he asks, a hint of forced playfulness evident in his voice.

Charlotte looks up at him, her green eyes crashing into his and the laughter dies out of his question, the joke he’d planned on telling forgotten. He can feel his heart rate pick up and she can feel her stomach drop to her toes. Their knees are still touching and she is now suddenly very aware of this fact as is he and that sense of waiting is back. The feeling that something should be happening that wasn’t.

The silence around them is electric and Charlotte shifts uncomfortably, her knee moving from his and the incremental amount of space she put between them is enough to break whatever was holding them.

“What?” Charlotte asks avoiding his eyes and he’d forgotten what he’d asked his brain so turned around and confused, his heart twisted in knots between Amelia and Trace and his whole screwed up life.

“We should get back to the house,” he says and Charlotte nods silently.

“Yeah I can’t sleep till noon two days in a row,” Charlotte says hoping to lighten the mood for she is so unaccustomed to his pensivity. “Maybe I can tell your parents I have some rare sleeping disorder.”

Despite himself, Justin smiles, chuckling a little to himself. “Good plan,” he says maneuvering around Charlotte to get to the ladder. “But you can’t sleep in tomorrow…er…today anyway.”

Charlotte looks perplexed before turning over to crawl towards the ladder on her hands and knees watching as he begins his descent.

“Why’s that?” she asks and he looks up at her grinning.

“Because it’s Christmas Eve.”

And with that he disappears through the hole, leaving Charlotte to scramble after him.