The Other Woman |Charlie Barber x Reader|

~The Verdict~

The entire morning had been rather silent. An alarm had woken both of you up at the same time--around seven, once the sun had already taken its position in the sky--followed closely by Charlie's sleep-riddled voice ordering breakfast over the phone. That was the most talking he'd done.

Although it had been decided the night before that you would enter the court building several minutes after Charlie to avoid suspicion, it hadn't felt right to rise at separate times or travel in separate cars. Deep down, he must have hoped it would calm his nerves to get ready with you.

The only sound during breakfast is the clinking of cutlery against porcelain as eggs and sausage are shared. Teeth are brushed side by side, only accompanied by water running and the wet scratches of the small bristles. Charlie, who had begun brushing his teeth before you, finishes before you and moves to brush his hair instead. Your eyes glide over to his reflection in silence, hoping to watch him complete a mundane task before the shift to irregularity. Once faces are washed, a thin layer of makeup is applied, and both of you have used the restroom, you begin to dress.

Charlie's gaze burns hot on your back as he observes your body, but it is not a stare filled with lust. He absorbs every curve, line, and imperfection, every freckle and mole. The way your bra and underwear rest against your skin and how your muscles twitch with every movement. He watches you slip on a black skirt that ends a few inches above the knee and how your fingers move nimbly to button up a matching blouse. Your feet slip into black heels, the ones you'd mentioned you'd gotten on sale several weeks ago, and you trek to the mirror to give yourself a once-over.

Charlie himself dawns a navy suit that had been neatly steamed and pressed. It is accompanied by a neat, white dress-shirt and a matching tie. His dress shoes shine black in the light that spills through the curtains, as does the gold watch clasped around his wrist. Today will be the last day he wears his wedding ring. Charlie tugs at the hem of his suit jacket, wanting to appear presentable at the very least. Something in the back of his mind nags him, making him wonder what Nicole is wearing and if they will accidentally match again.

The shine of his wedding band in the light makes his stomach turn. It had been turning all morning, if he was being honest. Perhaps part of him had realized that there would be no return to normalcy after today; life would go back to the way it was before he met Nicole. No, not before. Nothing would be the same anymore. At least then he didn't know her, didn't know what he was missing out on. After this, that thought would always be lingering in the back of his mind.

Could he ruin another marriage? Had he not been good enough? Was he now unlovable?

A lump swiftly builds in his throat at that thought. Unlovable. Damaged goods. Not good enough. Charlie swallows hard. He didn't have to be good enough for Nicole anymore--he had already proven that he wasn't--but now he had to be good enough for his son. For you. His dark eyes flicker back up to you. No, he thinks to himself as he furiously blinks the tears away, be good enough. For her.

"Do I look okay?"

Your voice suddenly shatters the silence. Charlie shakes his head, hastily ridding himself of his thoughts. When he looks up at you again, you're facing him with your fingers nervously fidgeting in front of you and your eyebrows drawn up in worry.

"Is it too much?" You reiterate, unable to help the slight shake in your voice. "I didn't know how to dress up for court."

Charlie gives you a soft, sympathetic smile as he approaches you. "You look perfect."