Cruel Trust

Forty-Six

When we got back to the condo, my eyelids were heavy with exhaustion. I tossed my purse on the couch and trudged almost blindly to our bedroom. In front of the full-length mirror, I pulled the straps down on my black dress, and when I reached back to unzip it, Andrew appeared behind me and assisted.

"Thanks, Drew," I murmured, stepping out of the dress and tossing it with my foot into the laundry basket.

He pulled my hair back into a ponytail absently, something he did when he was thinking.

"What are you thinking?" I asked flatly.

"Just about how inappropriate and terrible it was for Sheila to do what she did to you today," he said, and I could hear the ice in his voice.

I scoffed, pulling my hair away from his hands and opening the dresser drawer to pull out my pajama shorts and tank top.

"What?" Andrew asked, looking at me in the mirror.

I stood up and pulled the tank top over my head. "What do you mean, 'what?' She's right, Andrew. I know it, and you know it," I snarled, stepping into the shorts and walking past him, brushing against his shoulder.

He followed me into the kitchen, where I was heading to get a bottle of water. "Excuse me?" 

"You heard me. Please don't make me say it again," I barked, knowing I was taking my attitude a little too far, but too far in to stop. I walked past him, and he grabbed my elbow.

"Charlotte, you need to—"

With a glare, I jerked out of his grasp. "Let go of me, Andrew. I don't need your fucking sympathy right now!"

His eyes widened and his face fell—I had hurt his feelings. He swallowed hard and turned away from me.

"Drew, I—" I started, but he held his palm up toward me.

"Don't, Charlotte. Just don't," he said, not turning around. He disappeared into the hallway and slammed the door.

"Fuck!" I shouted, throwing the bottle into the sink, the cap popping off, water splashing all over me. "Damnit!" A sob broke loose from my chest, and I backed up against the fridge and slid down, my head in my hands, my weeping echoing through the empty condo.

I don't know how long I sat there, alone on the cold tile floor. I cried until I didn't have any tears left.

Finally, the door to the condo opened and closed, and then Andrew was standing over me. I looked up at him with swollen eyes.

"I'm sorry," we said at the same time.

We both chuckled, and he held out his hand to me. I took it and stood up, brushing off my butt.

"Drew, I'm sorry I yelled at you. I didn't have any right to do that."

"No, Charlotte. You have every right in the world to be upset. If you weren't, I'd want to have your head examined."

A laugh escaped my throat. "See how well that worked out for me last time."

Andrew looked like he didn't want to, but he laughed.

"Come on, let's order a pizza," he said, shaking his head in amusement.

I nodded, going over to the couch and plopping down, pulling a throw blanket over my legs.

While we were waiting for the pizza to arrive, we sat on the couch and watched trashy afternoon TV. At one point, I looked over at Andrew and he was just staring at me.

I looked around. "What are you staring at?"

"Just my gorgeous wife. Is that okay?"

I shrugged and flipped my hair. "I guess so," I responded, poking him with my big toe.

He grabbed my foot and tickled me. I screeched, writhing around the sofa, giggling. "Stop!" I said between laughs. "I can't breathe!"

Andrew laughed, a big, deep laugh that I hadn't heard from him in a while. "No chance!" he shouted, and I threw back my head against the arm of the couch.

I dissolved into more giggles, when mercifully, the doorbell rang. "Ha!" I said, pointing at the door. "Get the pizza!"

Andrew rolled off the couch and grabbed his wallet from the coffee table. "This isn't over," he warned.

I sat up, catching my breath. "Uh-huh."

He paid the delivery guy, closed the door, and sat the box on the counter.

"Truce? We have a pizza to eat; we don't want it to get cold," he said, offering his hand.

"All right," I agreed, but when he held his hand out, I yanked him toward me and tickled him again.

"Charlotte Rae Emerson, you're going to get it!" he cried, wrapping his arms around me and bringing me to the floor.

He put his hands on my cheeks and kissed me without warning. I groaned and climbed onto his lap, running my fingers through his hair.

An hour later, the pizza was definitely cold.