Stone in Love (17 page)

“Good idea.” Charlie slipped on his T–shirt and a pair of shorts. “I could use some fresh air,” he said with a wink.

Lindsay sat in the zero–gravity deck chair, and Charlie pulled up a padded storage ottoman, sitting right in front of her. What’s on your mind?” he asked, rubbing her knees.

“Have you ever heard of a Dr. Richard Mundy?” she asked, more concerned with the frayed stitching on her velour robe than making eye contact.

Charlie wasn’t forthcoming with a reply, and the worn fabric became less of a concern.

He was looking away from her, in the direction of the ocean. Lindsay waved a hand in front of him. “Hello? Did you hear me?”

Charlie stood and wandered to the edge of the deck. He put both hands on the aluminum rails, and lowered his head. “Why do you ask?”

Why are you asking me why do I ask?
Now her interest was piqued.

“Because at work, I came across a piece of mail with that name. Do you know him?”

“Yes,” Charlie answered, turning around. “He’s my father.”

“You’re kidding,” Lindsay said with a accepting smile.
Now
what are the chances of that?
She got out of her chair and met him where he stood across the deck. “You never told me your father was a doctor.”

“You never asked,” Charlie said, his gaze fixed upon the seamless integration of the deck boards below.

Lindsay reached for Charlie, placing her right hand over his rapidly pacing heart. “You’re right,” she said softly. “I’ve been so caught up in myself these last few months, that I haven’t had the decency to lend you an ear. I’ve been selfish, and I can’t express enough how sorry I am. I want to know all about you, every detail, from the beginning of time. I want to know about your childhood, your awkward teen years, your first kiss—”

“Stop!” Charlie said, his jaw clenched. “Just stop,” he mumbled again.

Lindsay took a step back. “I … I don’t understand.”

Charlie’s adam’s apple moved up and down, and he took a deep breath. “Well, then sit right down and I’ll tell you. I’ll tell you everything.”

He wasn’t upset with her; he was upset with himself. Regretting the minute he’d ever gotten involved with her career. He should’ve left her alone, and she would have come out of her funk eventually. Seeing her hurting though, he couldn’t resist doing
something
to help her. Especially when it was a quick fix with one phone call.

When he woke in her arms this morning, he had no idea this was the beginning of the end for them. After his confession, he was confident that’s exactly what it would be.

Charlie watched Lindsay, sitting there with a what–did–I–do look on her face. She looked sweet, almost angelic, in her puffy white robe, her hair being blown by the ocean breeze. Add wings and a halo, and she would fit the bill.

Oh, he dreaded how that look was about to change.

“You have it all wrong,” he finally said to her. “I didn’t mean to guilt–trip you by saying you’d never asked about my family. I don’t like talking about myself that much anyway.”

Lindsay shrugged her shoulders. “I’m still not with you. Exactly what
is
the problem?”

“The truth. But before I tell it, I have to warn you, you’re not going to like it. I did it for your own good. I was just trying to—”

“Charlie!” Lindsay said, her eyes wide. “Get to the point already.”

“Don’t you see the correlation?” Charlie asked, wondering why she hadn’t read between the lines by now. “My dad’s a doctor. You needed a job in a doctor’s office. Must I spell it out for you?”

“Wait a second,” Lindsay said holding up her index finger. Her eyes narrowed. “So you’re telling me, you were behind my getting hired at Surfside?”

The prominent scowl on Lindsay’s face spoke volumes. In an instant, Charlie had been downgraded to the scum of the earth. Right now, he imagined a sewer rat could run across her bare feet and she would look at it more favorably.

Charlie held up both hands, palms up. “There you have it. The awful truth laid out before you.”

A feeling he wasn’t familiar with started to wash over him. Anticipating Lindsay’s angry response (when most
normal
people would be thanking him) a fire began to burn inside. Tiny beads of sweat formed on his brow.

Lindsay paced back and forth. “I can not believe you. You know it wasn’t supposed to happen like this. I wanted to do it on my own. Now I understand why it hadn’t been necessary for me to interview for the position. I thought it must have been my lucky day; boy, was I na�ve. Now I can tell everyone that I have my pilot boyfriend to thank for my dream job. My credentials had nothing to do with it. Having high–society connections helped me along the way.”

She stopped, looked at Charlie, and threw her hands in the air. “Just freaking perfect. Everything I stand for I also lost along the way.”

Charlie was standing against the deck, arms crossed, the rails supporting him. It was a good thing too, as shaky as his legs were. Was it possible for the same sweet lips that had kissed him earlier to spew such venom–filled words? He’d never been more enraged. And what was coming to his mind to say would mirror—and exceed—her hostile words. The best thing he could do was remain silent.

Maybe if she had a second to think about what she’d uttered out of frustration, she would apologize. Charlie waited.

She stood, lips tense, with hands on her hips.

Charlie realized that it was
she
who was expecting the apology. It wasn’t about to happen; she’d crossed the line.

“Excuse me,” Charlie said, passing her with short, defeated steps.

Turning around, Lindsay folded her arms. “Where are you going?”

Charlie stepped inside and gently closed the door behind him, keeping his back to her.

He didn’t care what she thought, where she went, or what she did. She was on her own now … just like she always tried so hard to be.

Chapter Nineteen

That was it. For him to close the door right in her face, without so much as a “sorry”, was a deal breaker. Hadn’t he listened to anything she’d ever told him? No. He didn’t know her at all.

Lindsay pushed down the handle of the back door and tip–toed inside. Charlie was nowhere in sight. She grabbed a pair of shorts and a shirt out of the downstairs dryer and dressed.

Everything
was
too good to be true, as she so often suspected.

She hooked her arm through her purse strap and dug out her keys. She’d started toward the front door when she remembered what was on that keychain: the key to her—his—Camry.

Struggling to remove it from the key ring, she broke a nail. “Mother F!” Damn thing was on there good, but it wasn’t going to beat her. It was coming off if it was the last thing she did.

Lindsay reluctantly slipped her feet into the sandy flip–flops that were on the porch and descended the steps. She sprinted down Atlantic Avenue, never looking back.

She didn’t know where she was going; obviously she couldn’t foot–it all the way to Goose Creek. All she knew was she had to get away. She was sick to death of trying to wrap her head around this fantasy of a relationship with Charlie.

Turns out, it was everything she always expected it to be: a sham.

She ended up at Joe’s Tavern, where they’d had lunch only hours earlier. She was ushered to a table out on the deck, where she called a cab.

As usual, the place was bustling with singles and couples alike. Something about the beach/bar environment made p.d.a. a normal occurrence at Joe’s. The couple standing in front of her were fully absorbed with each other. The college–age guy touched his finger to the blonde girl’s lips, right before he leaned in for an open–mouth kiss, balancing his poured–from–the–tap beer in his other hand.

One good thing came of the disgusting make–out session in front of her. It gave Lindsay the idea to order her own drink. But beer wasn’t what she had in mind.

“Waiter,” she called to the fellow schlepping by with a tray full of drinks.

He slowed his pace, but didn’t stop, taking orders on the fly. “What can I get you?”

“Crown on the rocks.”

“Gimme a sec.”

To hell with all this water drinking. What was the point of having a flawless complexion anyway? Might as well look on the outside as bad as she felt on the inside. Better yet, why feel anything at all? She wanted to be numb … forget. At least for tonight.

* * *

In the middle of the night, Lindsay awoke to a cold, hard floor against her cheek, and the worst headache of her life. From the neck down, she lay on itchy woven carpet. She’d passed out on the square of linoleum just inside the front door of her apartment.

After her first round of Crown last night, she’d ordered two, maybe three more. She recalled stepping into the cab, but the drive home was a blank. How she’d made it inside her apartment and shut the door behind her was a mystery, and a blessing.

She put her hands on the floor and slowly came to a sitting position. Her head swimming, she considered lying right back down. Instead, she forced herself to crawl to her bedroom. She was far too sick to worry about dignity.

When she made it to the foot of her bed, she clutched the end of the down comforter and lifted herself. She flopped down on her belly, her legs hanging off the end of the bed, and passed out again.

Hours later, she awoke to a violent shaking of her shoulders. “Lindsay, wake up. Are you all right?” a feminine voice said.

“Who’s there?” Lindsay asked, squinting to make out the silhouette sitting beside her on the bed. Her eyes blurred and she struggled to hold them open.

“It’s me.” Ireland turned on the bedside lamp.

Lindsay sat straight up. “Ireland?” She wrapped her arms around her friend. “What in the world are you doing here?”

“Checking on you.” She smoothed Lindsay’s hair back from her face. “You look terrible. Mind telling me just what the hell is going on?”

“I will. Let me wash my face first.” Lindsay’s mouth was bone dry. “And brush my teeth.”

She walked gingerly to the bathroom sink and winced at the haggard–looking wreck staring back at her in the mirror. “Ouch, I do look like shit, don’t I?”

“To put it nicely.”

Lindsay splashed her face with a few handfuls of cold water and reached for the hand towel. Her face buried in the towel, she said, “So, tell me again why you’re here?”

“Don’t you remember calling me last night?”

“No.”

“You did. I could tell you were wasted. You said you broke up with Charlie and that you were in the back seat of a cab. You said you needed me, so here I am. I took the red–eye flight out of New York.”

Lindsay scratched her head and cleared her throat. “Clearly a case of drunk dialing. I’m glad I did though. Where’s Jeffrey?”

“He wasn’t able to come with me. He’s taking his apprenticeship at Dad’s law firm very seriously. He wouldn’t take a day off even if he were allowed to.”

Her equilibrium off, Lindsay steadied herself on the bathroom sink. “Can we talk after I take a shower?” She crossed her arms over the edge of the sink, and rested her head on top of them. “God, I feel horrible.” She started to sob.

Ireland wasted no time getting to her side. “You poor baby.” She gently rubbed up and down Lindsay’s back. A minute later she was holding back Lindsay’s hair while she vomited.

When she was done, Lindsay crumpled on the floor next to the commode.

Ireland pushed back the shower curtain. “I’m gonna run some water for you.”

Lindsay couldn’t manage a reply; her throat burned like someone had taken a lighter to it.

Ireland lifted Lindsay’s arms one at a time and helped her remove her shirt and bra.

Lindsay crossed her arms over her chest. “I can manage.” A second later she started dry heaving.

“You’re a hot mess who can’t manage to stand up straight,” Ireland said. “Besides, I’ve seen plenty of t–and–a in my lifetime. There’s nothing special about yours.”

“Thanks.”

Ireland helped Lindsay finish undressing and positioned Lindsay’s arm around her neck. Ireland lowered her into the tub and turned off the faucet. “Be right back.”

She removed a nightlight from the bedroom wall and plugged it into a bathroom socket. Then she opened the cabinet below the bathroom sink and retrieved a bath pillow. “Here you go, kitty,” she said, gently lifting Lindsay’s neck. “The low lighting should be more comfortable for your eyes. Relax for a while, and call me when you’re ready to get out. I’m going to brew you a pot of coffee.” She shut the door without so much as a creak.

Lindsay closed her eyes. Her heart was fragile. So fragile in fact, that she felt like crying for ever thinking Ireland an airhead. In her weakest moment, she was her hero.

Lindsay cried quietly, to the point her nose was completely stuffed. When she could no longer breathe, she supported herself on the rim of the tub, reaching for the toilet paper. She lost her grip and fell back into the water, creating a giant splash.

Seconds later, Ireland burst in. “What happened? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. I was trying to get some toilet paper, but I didn’t quite make it.”

“Why do you need toilet paper in the tub?” Ireland flipped on the light.

“Your eyes are swollen twice as bad as when I got here.” She put her hands on her hips, head to one side. She took in and let out a long breath. “Have you been crying?”

Lindsay giggled. The way Ireland was standing there with her furrowed brow and completely clueless look on her face took Lindsay back to better days. “Of course I’ve been crying.”

“Then why are you now laughing? Girl, your emotions are all out of whack.”

Ireland kneeled beside the tub. She reached for the bottle of shampoo and squeezed a glob into her hand. She massaged it into Lindsay’s hair. “So, you wanna tell me what happened?”

Lindsay put a hand on each side to keep from sliding underwater. Ireland, as tiny as she was, had strong hands and nearly sent Lindsay into a daze. Eventually she gathered her thoughts and started talking, filling Ireland in on everything from the second she’d left town.