Redeem Me (10 page)

Since he’s looking toward the back of my head, my view of him is all biceps and shoulders.
Yum.
He smells of the slightest bit of fresh cologne and deodorant. I close my eyes and take a deep breath to drink him in, no longer paying attention to his inspection.

“I don’t know, Charlotte. It’s hard to see. Your hair has blood in it and it’s matted to your head,” he says, sounding worried.

“You are incredibly gentle,” I say with my eyes still closed. When I open them, he’s gazing at me, puzzled. “What? You are. Gentle and patient.”

“I can be patient, especially if it’s something I really want,” he says, and his eyes grow darker. His hands feel warm cupping my face and I know I shouldn’t, but I can’t stop looking into his eyes. They’re filled with concern, or some other emotion between love and hate I haven’t felt in a while. “Charlotte, we have to wet your hair so I can see what this cut looks like.”

Anything to not go to the hospital.
“Okay.”

“It’s going to hurt.”

“Yes.”
I’m into pain these days.

Noble leads me out to the kitchen where the sink is bigger. He runs the water to a comfortable temperature and gives me the all-clear motion. I bend over, and with great care, he leads my head under the faucet. It’s a slicing pain, like a giant paper cut every time the water runs along it. I close my eyes tightly and push my thumbnail into my finger to not move or cry.

“I’m almost done,” he says. Noble sounds as if he’s in pain, too. “Don’t move for a minute. I’ll be right back.”

Noble gets his phone and tilts my head toward the light and takes a picture. He hands the phone to me. It shows a long red cut about two inches in length right at my hairline. It’s still juicy but is not actively bleeding.

“See? It’s fine,” I say.

“It’s not fine.”

“The bleeding has stopped and heads bleed a lot.” I’m feeling confident now. I straighten up and feel a little dizzy. I grab the counter so Noble won’t see me falter. “Really. I feel fine.”

“Fine like, I may fall over fine? Because I see you swaying,” he says. “Let me see your eyes.” Noble pulls me directly under the kitchen light and I open my eyes wide in exaggeration. He towers over me and looks down into my eyes, one hand on each side of my face. I warm all over under his stare and my breathing quickens. The sound of it is deafening. His face is only a few inches away. My eyes drop to his lips and without permission my body rises up and kisses them.

Delicately, lips touching lips, without asking a question or seeking an answer. I’ve abandoned all meaningful thought.

I open my eyes and search for answers from Noble. His eyes never leave mine.

My skin burns under my clothes. Hungry this time, I reach up and wrap my arms around his neck and kiss him hard. I force him back to the wall without my tongue ever leaving his mouth. I can’t get enough, my starvation feasting on him. I’m pushing myself against him and pulling him down to me at the same time. I may devour him.

This will kill Jason.

You are a selfish bitch.

I step back, my fingers to my lips, which are still burning for his. I’m four feet away facing a stunned Noble and after everything that has happened tonight, now I’m on the verge of tears.

“I’m sorry,” I manage.

“You should be,” he says, “for stopping.” He’s trying to catch his breath, too, as if we’ve just had a brawl.

“I’m so sorry,” I say, shaking my head. “Being with you feels like I’m cheating on you, on our friendship.” I’m out of breath and not making any sense. “And him.” That part I’m sure Noble gets because I detect some signs of anger. “Something is impossibly right, even though I know it’s completely wrong.”

Stop talking, Charlotte.

“It’s clear you don’t know a thing,” Noble says, and walks out of the room. I lower my head and close my eyes, my fingers still touching my lips to keep them from registering the absence of his.

What have I done?

When I get to my room, Noble’s lying in my bed under the covers. It’s mortally dark and I wait a moment for my eyes to adjust to the sliver of light coming through the window. I climb into bed next to him. “I’m glad you’re here,” I say, and consider playing the birthday card, but I already hate myself enough without manipulating him, too.

“I want to make sure you don’t start vomiting or have a seizure in the middle of the night,” he says as he rolls toward me.

Forgetting about my cut, I roll over, too, and prop my head up on my hand. I yelp in pain and sit up to protect my head.

“I think we should go to the ER,” he says.

“I know you do, but it’s just a flesh wound, I’m sure. Do you have any idea what a Saturday night in a Manhattan ER is like? This isn’t Salem County,” I murmur, returning my head to my pillow. We lie on our backs—not touching, not talking. “Noble, do you hate me?”

“Not yet,” he says. He’s probably getting the hint that if this ever gets started, it can only end badly.

“Thank you,” I say.

He doesn’t speak another word the rest of the night.

I
’m not in the mood to deal with Butch today, especially to talk about Thanksgiving, but I prefer it to dealing with Jason on Thanksgiving. I use my new key to enter Butch’s house. It’s good he’s not the type to sit around in his underwear. The aroma of garlic and peppers penetrates the door before I get the last lock opened.

“It smells amazing in here,” I say as I inhale deeply.

“Marie,” Butch says, motioning toward a Crock-Pot on the counter.

“Wow! On a Sunday? She’s good to you.”

“She’s coming over for dinner,” Butch says nonchalantly.

“Really?” I say, not letting him off that easy.

Butch rolls his eyes at me. He really is mellowing.

“Are you and Marie going to hang out on Thanksgiving?” I ask, thankful for the opening.

“We might,” he says gruffly, tiring of this conversation already.

“Do you think anyone else might be joining you for dinner?”

Butch looks as if his patience is completely gone, but when I give him a timid smile, he relents.

“Yes, I might have some family coming to town for the holiday.”

I take a deep breath, thankful for his understanding.

“I see.”

“They’re coming in on Wednesday and supposed to stay until Sunday morning.”

They’re. Does that mean two people are coming?

“Good information. Thanks, and enjoy your dinner,” I say, and leave without another word.

I’m thankful to have Violet’s house to hide at for Thanksgiving. Her parents’ magnificent home is decorated floor to ceiling with handsome furnishings and designer holiday decorations. No one seemed to notice I arrived Wednesday afternoon for her Saturday-night engagement party. I, myself, am one more decoration. I knew Jason was home and I wasn’t interested in giving thanks anywhere near him. He has much more to be thankful for than I do.

Looking at myself in the mirror, in my dress that’s hanging off me, I wish I had bought something new when Violet and I went shopping yesterday. The dress she finally settled on for tonight’s festivities is a deep red, floor-length sheath that she’s pairing with sky-high patent leather peep toes. She’s going to be gorgeous, especially after today’s day of beauty. All the bridesmaids are meeting for a full day at the salon.

My dress is a black and white geometric print dress. I wore it to my office holiday party last year. It hugged every curve on me and was slightly low cut but still perfect for a work party. Today it’s like I borrowed it from my pudgy older sister. No matter how I stand, it can’t seem to capture the
va-va-voom
. The last eight pounds I’ve yet to gain back from this summer still elude me, even though I’ve been trying to eat more. It seems crazy to try to gain weight, but I’m tired of people looking at me like I might be contagious.

I switch back into jeans just as I hear the doorbell ring.

“Charlotte, Julia’s here,” Violet calls from downstairs.

I still can’t believe Violet’s getting married. I walk downstairs and Julia hugs me hello but lets me slide on the kissing. She’s holding a dress bag covering some appropriate frock and I am again pissed I didn’t try on my dress ahead of time and buy something new. In my defense, I didn’t realize this was going to be such an extravagant affair until the tent company pulled up this morning and started assembling the heated tent, including a dance floor that faces the lake behind her parents’ house. Maybe I can run out today.

“We have mani-pedis in an hour and makeup and blow-outs after lunch,” I hear Violet explaining to Julia, and I’m pretty sure Violet will kill me if I mention I have to run to the mall. Although there’s a chance she’ll kill me when she sees my dress, too. It’s quite a conundrum.

“Julia, let me see your dress,” I say, hoping to find an ill-fitting, nun-worthy frock.

“It’s actually the dress I wore to my cousin Lorraine’s wedding in Vermont last year.”

I start to frown as she lifts the bag on an awesome mocha-colored jersey dress that’s going to be beautiful on her. “I thought it would be perfect once Violet described her vision for the engagement party,” she adds, and I start to think Julia secretly hates me.

“When did she describe her vision? Was there some sort of e-mail newsletter I missed?” I ask sourly. “Or maybe a flyer?”

“What? You have something other than jeans, right?” Julia asks with fear in her eyes.

Violet turns from watching the construction through the window and refocuses on our conversation.

“Julia, that’s gorgeous!”

I scrunch up my top lip behind Violet and Julia again looks scared.

“Do you know what Sydney’s wearing?” I ask.

“I think she’s wearing black pants,” Julia offers.

“What?” Violet yelps. “Sydney’s wearing pants to my engagement party?”

“I think she’s pairing them with a sparkly sweater of some kind. You know Sydney. It’ll be over the top.” Violet seems soothed. I feel sick.

“Violet, is Noble coming?”

Violet’s face flashes her patented enormous grin.

“Yes, he is—why? Are you thinking about him?” she asks in a teasing tone.

I can’t roll my eyes far enough back in my head. Over the last two weeks I’ve avoided Noble, not able to address kissing him on my birthday. I’m going to stick with avoiding. It’s my new modus operandi. I mentally go through each dress in my closet. There’s never been a dress in any closet that can keep up with Violet’s red one. The only slim possibility I can remember is the dress I bought for the spring formal my junior year. Jason couldn’t come up, so I didn’t go. It still has the tags on it.

“Violet, do you have boob tape?” I ask.

“Of course. What are you wearing?” she says, smiling. “Or do you just want to tape something to your boob?” Julia and Violet both laugh.

“Do you remember the dress I bought for my junior formal?”

“You didn’t go to the spring formal,” Julia says disapprovingly, still pissed at Jason for causing me to miss it, or more likely still pissed at me for missing it.

“I know, but I bought that long black dress. Remember the one with the dramatically plunging neckline,” I say, adding air quotes.

“Oh yeah, that would be great,” Julia offers.

“Not too much?” I ask.

“No. It’s long, and simple except for the neckline. It’ll be perfect.”

The dress is a plain black jersey wrap dress. I’m sure I can make it fit. The wrap forms a V-neck that comes almost to my belly button. The only hitch is it requires perfect posture the entire night.

I dread texting Noble. I’ve been successfully avoiding him since my birthday, and asking for a favor is going to put me in a vulnerable position.

Hey. R u coming to Violet

and Blake’s engagement party?

ARE YOU ASKING ME TO BE YOUR DATE?

I sigh. I knew this wasn’t going to be easy.

Actually I’m asking you for

a favor. Can you stop at my

house and pick up something for me?

It feels like ten minutes pass before he responds.

SURE

Thank you! It’s in my closet.

It’s a dress. Hanging on a

hanger with a pink plastic bag

over it. It should be a black

floor length dress.

HOW DO I GET IN?

Use the key under the turtle

rock by the back door. What

time are you coming to the party?

IT STARTS AT 7, RIGHT?

Yeah. I kind of need you here

before then…

I’LL SEE WHAT I CAN DO.

That definitely could have been worse.

The day flies by, filled with beauty treatments and nonstop talking. No wonder the guys always leave us; we never really shut up. Julia and I head to the bar after opting out of the blow-outs. Violet and Sydney happily stay behind to finish their beautifications.

Violet gives us both a stern look as she warns, “Do not get drunk before the party.”

“Yes, Mother. We wouldn’t dare,” we promise as we both kiss her cheeks simultaneously.

“You’re lucky my makeup isn’t done yet,” she says, and Julia pulls her hair.

Julia and I settle onto our barstools and order our first martini as I hear my text ding.

WHERE ARE YOU?

PJ’s Pub

ON RT 38?

Yes

OK. I’LL BE THERE IN 5.

ORDER ME A BEER. YOU OWE ME.

I’ll gladly pay up with a beer. I smile because I always smile when it has to do with Noble. “Noble will be here in a few minutes.”

“What?” Julia says.

“He’s bringing me the dress.”

Julia and I sip our drinks in silence, watching the TVs above us and savoring the last few minutes of peace we’ll have today.

“You know he searched through your underwear drawer while he was at your house.”

“No, he didn’t,” I say, shaking my head and signaling the bartender that we need another round and to add Noble’s beer to the order.

“I would have,” Julia says.

“If you want to rummage through my underwear you can. Just ask,” I say, and Julia starts laughing so hard her drink comes out her nose, which makes us laugh even harder.

“Hey, you two crack-ups! This is a serious day,” Noble says as he walks in with my dress. Apparently he received the informational e-mail from Violet because he’s wearing an impeccably tailored suit. Julia waves to him as she runs off to the bathroom with a napkin covering her nose. Noble sits down just as the bartender sets a beer down in front of him.

“Impressive,” he says, smiling at the beer, the bartender, and me.

“Thank you. I owe you one,” I say, and inspect the dress.

“Is it the right one?”

“It is. Violet would have my hide if I wore the dress I brought with me. This engagement party is Mac Daddy.”

“I gathered that when the invitation was nicer than any wedding invitation I’ve ever seen.”

I stare into my drink, trying to remember if I ever received an invitation. Did Violet just tell me about the party, or did I never open the invitation? Noble’s watch catches my eye and I follow it right up to his shoulder. He’s wearing a charcoal suit with a deep blue tie and his shoulders look amazing in it. Every inch of him looks amazing.

“You—”

“Sorry about that. Hi, Nick,” Julia interrupts me, complimenting Noble as she hugs him a proper hello.

“Hey, Julia.”

Noble gives her an easy hug and I realize after four years of hanging out, Julia and Noble have become friends.

They proceed to catch up, switching easily from work, to the weather, to pop culture, and eventually settle on my birthday. We missed the debrief since Noble was still pissed at me for the night before and neither of us felt like eating breakfast. At the time I knew they all thought we hooked up and I couldn’t face them, especially with Noble.

I look up and Julia and Noble are both staring at me, concerned. I brighten to a practiced smile. “What? I’m fine. Just wondering how many people are coming tonight.”

“Two hundred and seventy,” Julia answers, and both Noble and I drop our mouths open.

“What?” is all I can muster. Thank God Noble brought me this dress.

Noble checks his watch and finishes his beer. “Well, my gorgeous lady friends, as much as I could, and would, sit here with you all night, I have to meet some guys up the road for some pre-party partying.”

I’m jealous as Noble stands up and bear-hugs Julia. I could use a pre-party before this formal engagement party with Violet and Blake, and 270 of their closest friends and family. I shake my head, still unable to fully consider the number.

“Thanks again,” I say as Noble gives me a much gentler hug.

“It was my pleasure. It gave me a chance to rummage through your drawers,” Noble says with his signature naughty smile. I punch him in the arm rather than say you’re welcome. “And I love the idea of you owing me one.”

I watch Noble walk out of the restaurant and across the parking lot.

“Stop staring at Nick’s ass,” Julia says. I just keep looking, though. “Seriously, why don’t you just go out with him, or have sex with him, or something?”

“I’m trying to protect him. I need him to still like me and if we have sex he’ll end up hating me,” I admit as I request the check from the bartender.

“Are you that bad in bed?” Julia asks, and we both lose it.

Julia and I sneak down to Violet’s patio, which offers a view into the tent, and, unbelievably, 270 people have gathered in Moorestown on the Saturday of Thanksgiving weekend to congratulate Violet and Blake on their engagement.
Wow.

Julia pulls my elbow and I follow her up the back stairs to Violet’s room. We’re due downstairs in ten minutes for some introductions with the groomsmen. We know Danny well, Blake’s roommate at Rutgers. There’s also his brother Carson and some guy named Trey who was Blake’s best friend in high school. I’m hoping Trey is tall. Julia, Sydney, and Violet all hover at or below five-five, and Blake, his brother, and Danny all hit at about five-ten. I could use a six-footer or I’m going to be the giraffe in front of 270 people.

Violet’s day of beauty paid off. “You look so pretty, Violet,” I say, and give her an air hug, careful not to dent her in any way.

“Thanks, Charlotte. And thank you for being here.” Her words are filled with sympathy.

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

Violet leads us down to the formal living room where Blake says all the right things about Violet’s stunning look, and we’re all properly introduced. There’s a strange feeling of camaraderie, as if we’re about to experience something that’ll be difficult to explain to anyone outside of this small circle.

“Charlotte O’Brien, this is Trey Taylor, Blake’s very best friend from high school,” Violet says as she introduces me to the only guy I don’t know in the room. “You guys’ll be walking together tonight and in the wedding,” she adds, and I couldn’t be more pleased.