Overexposed: The Complete Boxset: A Virgin Meets a Bad Boy Romance (13 page)

L
ater that morning
I wake up to Charlene opening the blinds, and I practically hiss against the cheerful sunshine that paints the room in light. Instead, I huddle farther down into the mattress, wrapping the warm, down comforter more securely around my body. Charlene moves around to the side of her bed that I had claimed in the wee hours of this morning, when I had snuck in here because I couldn’t bear to be alone. Not when I had just left the only man I’ll ever lov…..no, I can’t think about that, it’s too dangerous of a path to travel down. I have to try to put
him
from my mind and resign myself to the fact that Eric will never hold a candle to what might have been.

“Darling girl, you can’t hide in here all day.” Charlene says, her voice soft and pleasant.

“Why can’t I?” My voice sounds weary even to me, and when I glance up at Charlene I see nothing but understanding and compassion written across the planes of her face.

“Fine. But at least sit up so I can bring you some coffee.” Charlene says, before turning and disappearing back into the kitchen.

The mere thought of coffee has me scrambling to sit up, my hair a crazy mess around my face. Charlene comes back carrying a small breakfast tray, with a mug of coffee, toast, and a small bowl of fresh fruit. “I don’t deserve you.”

“Don’t I know it,” Charlene answers with a laugh as she settles the tray on my lap.

I pick up the mug and take a tentative sip, but it’s perfect with a dash of cream and two sugars. Greedily I drink a few more gulps before taking a bite of toast. “Coffee really can make everything better,” I mumble around a mouthful of toast.

Charlene balances on the edge of the bed, her own coffee mug in hand. “It really can. Speaking of which…” Her thought is cut off, when the buzzer to the apartment sounds. “Finish your breakfast and coffee and I’ll be right back.”

Charlene’s gone long enough for me to finish the piece of toast and have a few bites of fruit. When she renters the room she’s holding a large package. I quirk an eyebrow curiously, “Did you order something?”

“I didn’t. This is actually for you.” She lays the package beside me on the bed, and I instantly recognize Eric’s handwriting. My stomach sinks and the sweet fruit I’m still eating turns to ash in my mouth.

“I don’t know if I have the strength to face this today.” I finally admit.

Charlene pats my hand. “At least open it, and if you still feel that way we’ll just put it away and think about it tomorrow.”

I wrap my hands around the warm mug of coffee and drain its contents, as Charlene gently lifts the tray from my lap and sets it on the bedside table. My hands shake as I pluck at the tape keeping the box secure. We both peer into it, only to find multiple labeled folders containing wedding information. One for a wedding planner—a prestigious and equally expensive one at that—with contact information printed on the front. A folder labeled Schedule of Events, which when opened contains Eric’s entire work and social calendar for the next few months. Most events are also marked with his hand, ‘Must Attend and Find Suitable Attire’ while a slim minority are marked with ‘Not Required.’ There is also a list of suitable wedding dates, with a note that I must confirm that they will not conflict with his parents schedules. Another folder labeled Wedding Details, is merely a list of suitable caterers, florists, music options, and decor—his preferences for each category are also clearly stated. The second to last folder is marked Guest List, and contains the names and contact information for three hundred and fifty people, nearly all of whom I do not know.

I look to Charlene helplessly, “Is this wedding even for me at all? I thought this was supposed to be my entrée back into society, but so far it feels likes its a smart business decision for Eric.”

Charlene pats my hand. “Don’t worry, I know how to handle the Underwoods. They’re not going to simply be allowed to steamroll this wedding.”

I glance back down into the final folder labeled, Financial Obligations. And when I lift it out and open it, it includes all of Eric’s financial information, with a strongly worded reminder that I need to immediately rectify the converging of our bank accounts and financial holdings while listing him as the sole beneficiary. I drop it back into the box as if it has just singed my fingers.

Charlene retrieves it, her eyes quickly scanning its contents before slamming it shut. “Is he fucking joking about this?”

I shake my head slowly. “He found my website and he threatened me. If I don’t do what he says, he’ll expose me.”

Charlene’s arms circle around me and she lays a cheek on my head. “You don’t have to go through with this.”

“That was not Dad’s opinion when I went to see him yesterday.” I say, my eyes suddenly burning with unshed tears. “And besides, Eric said he refuses to let me leave him.”

“You went to see your father yesterday?”

I nod. “He wasn’t happy with me.”

“Oh my darling girl,” Charlene answers sympathetically, her arms tightening around me. “Your father loves you. He only wants what is best for you, and that is blinding him to the fact that you’re an adult who can make her own decisions.”

Swiping at the trail of hot tears now dripping steadily down my face, I shake my head. “It’s too late. Devon is never going to forgive me, and I’ve already committed myself to Eric. I just need to face that he’s going to be my life. And the sooner I accept that fact, the sooner I can try to find a small amount of happiness.”

“Anna…” Charlene begins to say, but I cut her off.

“Can we talk about this later? It hurts too much to bring it all to the surface again right now.” I ask, my voice breaking.

“Of course. I do have some errands to run today, but I’ll also text Eric and tell him that you’re feeling under the weather. That should buy you some time to sort your thoughts out.” Charlene smooths the hair from my face. “I promise that everything will be ok.”

I catch her hand and hold onto it like my life depends on it, and right now it might. “Thank you Charlene.”

“You don’t have to thank me, Anna.” She pats my hand. “It’s what I’m here for.”

Managing a wobbly smile, I give her hand a gentle squeeze. “I know I don’t show or say this enough, but I love you and I’m glad I have you for a mother.”

Tears sparkle in Charlene’s eyes as she leans down to plant a gentle kiss on my forehead. “I love you too, my darling girl. Now get some rest.”

Freeing her hand, I watch as she crosses the room and pulls the curtain closed again. “I’m only a phone call away if you need me.”

I lift my hand and give her a feeble wave, before I pick up the remote on the bedside table and switch on the TV and sign into Hulu. There is nothing a marathon of The Mindy Project can't make better—at least for a little while.

I
few hours later
, I reluctantly leave the cozy nest I’ve created on Charlene’s bed to retrieve my laptop from my bedroom. Hauling it back to the nest, I wait for it to boot up before I open the file of photos from my photo shoot with Devon. As I click through them, I can’t help but marvel over the beauty of his handiwork. And when I come upon the set from the day I’d been fully captured in his spell, the day he’d proven to me what type of art we could make together, I’m dumbfounded at his mastery. Each picture tells a captivating story, and I feel empowered and beautiful just looking at them.

Sadness creeps slowly under my skin, spreading with an alarming rate through my limbs and causing my heart to rip with a tormenting pain. Why had I given him up, this man who finally saw every piece of me—who accepted that I could be both Sierra and Anna, and never seeing the distinction between them? He’d only seen the whole, and he had loved me for it. And I had thrown that love away for a different man who only wanted to control me. To use me as he saw fit, a mere pretty adornment hanging on his arm to impress important people. People who I no longer felt the need to impress.

I quickly close the file and open Sierra’s website. I scroll slowly through the last seven years of my life. Through the business I’d grown with my own two hands. Why should I be ashamed of this life, it’s a part of me. It’s helped shape me into the woman I am, and should I really marry a man that is ashamed at this side of me? Who finds fault with the way I earned money to further our future, when I had still wished with my whole heart for that future? Am I really strong enough to just delete the last seven years of my life. To allow those years to be lost in the ether, as if they’d never existed? Am I really considering deleting my own self-reliant income stream, to hand it over to Eric to use as he sees fit. So he can dole out my hard earned wages in tiny increments to things he deems appropriate? Was I really ready to delete the confident, self-assured person I became in his absence, just because he preferred the person I was before?

I wait for Devon’s voice to tell me no. But his silence mocks me. He’s the only voice I now want to hear, the only one I crave, and I don’t even have the comfort of its memory right now.

Slamming the computer shut, I push it away from me. These are problems for tomorrow, I can’t bear to face them right now. Burying back under the covers, I close my eyes hoping for the release of sleep.

I
wake
to the cool touch of Charlene’s hand on my forehead. “How are you feeling?”

Unable to answer because the threat of another torrent of tears quivers in the back of my throat and burns behind my eyes, I pitifully shrug my shoulders.

“Lucky for you, I have just the cure,” Charlene lifts a handful of Redbox movies in one hand, and a bag of Chinese food and junkfood in the other. “I think we deserve a good old-fashioned girls night in.”

Swallowing around the now permanent lump in my throat, I croak out, “That sounds perfect.”

“Now I know this might be asking too much, but I’m only asking because it’s your fault I have new addiction,” Charlene pauses long enough to give me a wink. “But I’m really craving a Philistine.”

A reluctant smile pulls at the corners of my mouth and I sit up. “That is one problem I can actually solve.”

“I thought it would be.” Charlene gives me a pat on the back. “I’ll get everything set up in here while you go make our drinks.”

By the time I’ve mixed our drinks and pad my way back into the her bedroom, Charlene’s changed into pajama’s and she has TV trays set up with plates of food. I hand her the drink, and she takes a long sip, her eyes closing momentarily. “That definitely hits the spot.”

A small laugh bubbles out and floats in the air around us. “Thank you for doing this.”

“Stop thanking me, it’s my job as your mother. Besides, if we’re being completely honest, I need this just as much as you.”

Concern slams into me, and I feel like a selfish cow who’s been wallowing in her own misery and missing out on the clues to another’s. “Is everything alright?”

Charlene waves a hand dismissively. “Nothing that can’t wait until tomorrow. Tonight we party hard.”

“And it’s my favorite kind of party, where the only dress code is slovenliness and the food is the stuff of heart attacks,” I giggle as I crawl into the bed beside my mom.

“Darling, that’s the best kind of party,” Charlene says as she clinks her glass against mine.

“Agreed.”

And I couldn’t think of a better way to spend my night, cuddled up with my mom, laughing and crying over the array of movies she had picked out and eating unhealthy food until we burst.

Our problems temporarily forgotten as we enjoy nothing else than each other’s company.

I
t’s much too early
when Charlene wakes me up the next morning. How she’s even still functioning after a night of gorging ourselves sick on junkfood and booze is a mystery to me. But apparently she’s quite immune to hangovers, as she cheerfully throws open the curtains and orders me out of bed and into the shower. Gathering the blankets over my head, I grumble and studiously ignore her. That is before the covers are ripped off the bed, and all I’m greeted with is a rush of cold air.

“Up and at ‘em, we’ve got plans today,” Charlene sing-songs and playfully slaps my butt.

“I take back all the nice things I’ve ever said, you really are the evil step-mother,” I say darkly, even as I hoist my body out of bed.

Charlene’s laughter rings out. “Well if that’s how you feel, I guess we can forget about me treating you to breakfast.”

My stomach rumbles loudly, and I curse it for betraying me. How the fuck am I even hungry after the sheer amount of food I consumed last night? “I take it back, it’s the hangover talking.”

“That’s my girl,” she chirps, heading through my room and into the living room. “You’ve got twenty minutes.”

Shuffling to the bathroom, I start a hot shower. And when I chance a glance in the mirror, I notice just how badly I need one. My hair is a crazy nest of knots and tangles, my makeup—which I forgot to remove do to my inebriation—is smeared around my eyes, and my face is puffy from the torrent of tears I cried yesterday. Undressing quickly, I step into the hot stream of water and it feels like heaven. Taking enough time to give my hair, face, and body a good scrub, I stay in for a few extra minutes to allow the tension to bleed from my body and imagine it sinking away down into the drain. After toweling dry, I wrap its fluffy warmth around my body before taking another towel out of the closet to wrap my hair so it will dry faster.

The sound of music playing fills the apartment, and I can’t help but sway as I swipe the steam off the mirror. And as I catch a glimpse of myself in its muted reflection, I can imagine that I see tiny bit of happiness still left in the lines of my face. There is no battle of Sierra vs Anna, there is only me—and for a brief moment, I am happy about who I see. Something in me solidifies and takes hold, and I come to the realization that even if my path is with Eric, I don’t have to lose that. I don’t have to be a pawn, not when I can create myself and be an equal. A hint of a smile graces my mouth with that small truth, and suddenly I’m ready to face the day. But not without a little war paint and battle gear.

After a quick brush of blush across the apples of my cheeks and a swipe of eyeliner, I head to my adopted room and pull on my fiercest and sexiest lingerie—a secret just for me. And then because I really don’t give flying fuck, I change into fleece lined leggings and my favorite oversized cable-knit sweater because it’s fucking cold outside and I want to be warm. It’s the perfect balance of Sierra and Anna, because I am both and I’m still far from being reconciled on the idea that I have to give up one or the other.

Charlene dances into the room, a mimosa in each hand. “Hair of the dog as they say.”

I take the glass from her hand and down the contents quickly. “Here’s to day drinking.”

She clinks her glass against my empty one, and gives me a wink. “You’ve got five minutes to dry your hair before the uber gets here.”

I salute her and head back into the bathroom to do just that.

O
nce we’re
in front of the quaint little restaurant, Charlene ushers me inside. I’m taken aback when she greets everyone with a cheery hello, and I hear a round of happy greetings in return. I hadn’t realized that maybe she’d become a regular in the years that I’ve been away and she’s had to be on her own, but it doesn’t seem to have affected her negatively—in fact, surrounded by this group of people that she obvious knows, it’s as if she’s younger—a more carefree and happy version of herself than I’ve seen in years.

She doesn’t give me much time to contemplate over my musings, as she presses me into a seat and hands me a menu. “They have the best french toast in the world, and it’s probably the fattest thing on the menu but calories don’t count when you’re burning so many with hard decisions.”

“What hard decisions are we making today?”

We’re briefly interrupted by the waitress, and Charlene doesn’t even give me a chance to order. “Bev, we’ll both have the Brûlée French Toast with a side of bacon. And keep the coffee coming.”

“Who are you and what did you do with my Mom?” I can’t help but ask as I try to keep my mouth from hanging open in disbelief.

“For the first time in my life, I had to depend on me—not a man. Not that I blame your father, but he’s just the last—and definitely the best— in a line of men I’d gotten used to depending on. It’s taken me years, but I’ve finally found happiness in my own self.” Charlene answers with a genuine smile. “But don’t get me wrong, I’ll be overjoyed when I finally get to be with your Dad again.”

“I’ve been having a similar conversation with myself lately,” I admit.

“Good.” Charlene levels me with a hard gaze, before reaching in her purse and extracting a folder. She slaps it down on the table between us, and I see the label Financial Obligations in Eric’s slanted writing on the front. “So tell me what the fuck you are going to do about this nonsense.”

I force my eyes from the folder to meet her gaze. “Can we not talk about this yet? I just want to put it off for a few more hours.”

“We will not. We’re going to discuss it now.”

“You know I don’t have a choice. Daddy wants me to marry Eric, and this is Eric’s stipulation.”

“I call bullshit.”

My mouth gapes open, and I stare at her like she’s lost her damn mind. She knows what Dad is like, for fucks sake she’s married to him. There is no telling that man no.

“You heard me. Bull. Shit.”

I blink again, completely at a loss for words. Thankfully I’m rescued by the arrival of our food. But I don’t even get one bite shoveled into my mouth before Charlene begins again.

“Anna, you are a grown ass woman and I expect you to act like one. I will not let you settle for Eric or cave to these ridiculous demands.” To punctuate her point she picks up the folder and waves it in my face. “It’s time someone made you face the truth. You’re never going to be ready to marry Eric, especially because he’s the wrong man and you don’t love him.”

The fork drops from my hand, and clatters against my plate. I’m beyond confused. Isn’t my marriage the one thing she wants—I know Dad does, and I’d just assumed Charlene agreed. “But Daddy practically lost his shit when I tried to tell him that wasn’t what I wanted anymore.”

Charlene waves her hand dismissively. “Oh believe me I know. He tried to do the same thing to me when I went to see him yesterday.”

“You went and saw Daddy yesterday?”

“I did. And I’m going to tell you exactly what I told him,” Charlene leans across the table and lays her hand on mine. “Actually let me go back a little farther. You already know the story of the choice I had to make between your Daddy and Aaron. But did you never wonder why I choose someone much older than me, someone who already had a daughter—someone who also made it clear that despite the fact that I wanted to have my own children too, that he was done? Especially when I was already in a relationship with a sexy as hell musician, who would have given me the family I wanted?”

I shake my head, completely confused over what kind of point she was trying to make.

“The obvious choice would have been to settle down with Aaron. To support him as his career was on the rise, to have traveled the world by his side, to have had his babies. But your dad…the first time I saw him, I was a goner. I wasn’t even supposed to be at the party, but I’d gotten a last minute invite from a prestigious photographer I’d worked with off and on, so I went. And every day from that night on, your father pursued me. He thought I was beautiful, even when I didn’t have a lick of makeup on my face or my teeth brushed or when I first woke up in the morning. He was always there to offer a shoulder to cry on, to bring me flowers for no other reason than to let me know he was thinking about me. He offered me
love,
Anna. Unconditional, head-over-heels love. And it wasn’t because he was rich, or he was the logical choice, I chose him because I could no longer picture my life without him in it.”

She pauses to take a bite of her french toast, her eyes closing as she moaned her approval. And now my head is spinning, and I’m starting to understand the entire point of this conversation. Then she points her fork at me, “If I didn’t truly love him, why on earth do you think I wouldn’t divorce him after he got indicted and sent to prison. It’s because even being poor with your dad is a million times better than being with someone rich who I can’t stand.”

“But Eric will ruin me, I’ll never be part of our old world ever again,” I try to explain.

“Who gives a flying fuck. Especially if I never have to be in the same room as the fucking Underwoods,” she exclaims, spearing another piece of french toast with her fork. “You
are
my daughter, and I love you. I refuse to let you marry Eric and endure the hellish prison he’d keep you in.”

“But…I don’t think I get a choice. Daddy made it pretty clear…”

Charlene holds up her hand to stop me. “I made things pretty clear to your father yesterday, and if he tries to kick up any more fuss I’ll deal with him. I always win in the end.”

“You don’t think I owe Eric? I mean I’ve been promised to him for my entire life.”

“You don’t owe that little cocksucker a fucking thing—except the truth. And we both know the truth is that you’re in love with that sexy photographer and
not
Eric.”

I fall silent, lost in my thoughts as I steadily eat my french toast. Charlene leaves me to them, quietly sending me encouraging winks every time I glance up at her. Is it possible that I can leave Eric behind. To be free of him to follow my heart? Charlene’s made it perfectly clear that she’ll handle Dad, and nothing he can say would ever separate us.

Devon. I be with Devon.
I immediately stop that dangerous train of thought. I can’t fathom how he’d ever forgive me for leaving him once again. Especially after I’d given him my virginity and told him I loved him, only to steal away in the night like a thief.

“Devon’s never going to take me back, he had no reason to trust me,” I finally spit out as if confessing to Charlene is the only way to absolve myself of my own foolishness.

“That’s something you’ll have to face when the time comes,” Charlene answers quietly. “But regardless of his decision, do you really want to marry Eric just because you could be rejected by Devon.”

I shake my head. “I don’t. I really really don’t.”

“Then you know what you have to do.”

“I need to go tell him.”

“Yes you do. Now go!”

I quickly gather my coat and gloves and purse, and lean over to kiss Charlene on her cheek. “Thank you, Mom.”

Charlene’s eyes sparkle with unshed tears and the smile she graces me with is beatific. “No go tell that motherfucker where he can shove his fucking demands.”

I smile wide and salute, before running out the door and into the street—my arm already outstretched to hail a cab.