Someone You Love by Kristen Granata
Charly
“Char, they’re here. I’m buzzing them up.”
My stomach roils. “Almost finished.”
I place the curling iron on the counter, and stare at my reflection in the mirror while I go through the logical thoughts once more.
My makeup is perfect, and my hair came out great.
Beatrice is bringing the gown, and my journal.
Anthony will look handsome, as always.
We’re going to a charity event for a great cause.
There will be music, and dancing, and five-star food.
I’ll have a nice time.
So, why do I feel so sick to my stomach over this?
Muffled voices float down the hallway. I inhale through my nose, and my eyes flutter closed for a brief moment. “You can do this, Charly.”
I tighten my robe around my midsection, and force a smile onto my face as I waltz into the living room.
Beatrice spreads her arms wide. “Hello, my dear.”
I all but fling myself into her embrace, and squeeze her tight. “I’ve missed you so much.”
“I’ve missed you.”
“You look beautiful.” I step back, holding her at arm’s length. “I knew this coral color would look fantastic on you.”
“I miss my shopping partner.” Her eyes sparkle. “We should hit up the stores while I’m in town for the weekend. I’ve always wanted to shop in Manhattan like Carrie Bradshaw.”
Anthony’s face screws up in disgust. “I’m going to ignore the fact that you know that reference.”
I cackle, and turn my attention to him. “You clean up nicely, don’t you, quarterback?”
He winks, and dips down to peck my cheek. “I do everything nicely.”
I roll my eyes, and steal a glance at Jenny. “You remember my best friend, Jenny.”
Anthony grins. “Of course. How could I forget the woman who doused me in soft drinks?”
She plants her hands on her hips. “I thought you were someone else.”
“Lucky for you, you got me instead.”
“Lucky?” She arches an eyebrow as she looks him up and down with a scrutinizing gaze. “The jury’s still out on that.”
“You won’t need much convincing once I get started.”
I exaggerate a gagging noise. “Tone it down, quarterback.”
Beatrice places her hand on my shoulder. “I’m sorry to say that I forgot to take your journal with me. It was on the desk in the lobby, and it completely slipped my mind. I was too worried about forgetting your gown and shoes.”
Disappointment sinks into my gut, but I shove it down further. “It’s okay. You can give it to me another time.”
She drapes my gown over my arm. “Go get this on. I can’t wait to see you in it with your hair and makeup done.”
Inside the bathroom, I slip on the daffodil-colored gown and smooth my fingers over one of the rhinestone straps holding up the sweetheart neckline. The chiffon fabric is soft and comfortable as I move, twisting around to check out the back of the dress.
A soft knock taps against the door, followed by Jenny’s voice. “Can I come in?”
I crack it open, and Jenny slips inside. “Oh, wow. You look incredible, Char.”
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”
“But you wanted Bryce to see you in it.”
I nod, swallowing past the lump sitting in my throat. “Part of me wishes he’ll be there, just so I can see him. Even if it’s only for tonight.”
Jenny pulls me into a hug. “Wouldn’t that make it harder on you? To have to see him, but not be with him the way you imagined you’d be at this gala?”
“I don’t know. I just miss him so much, Jen.”
“I know. I’m sorry.” She fixes a strand of my hair. “But you never know. Maybe he’ll come around one day. Maybe he needs some time to learn how to trust.”
I inhale a slow and steady breath, willing the tears to not ruin my makeup. “Maybe he just wasn’t the one for me.”
Jenny frowns, but doesn’t say anything. The truth is, no one knows what might happen or not happen. We just have to be who we are, do our best, and hope that one day it’ll be enough for someone.
I slip on my strappy rhinestone heels, say goodbye to Jenny, and then the three of us are on our way to the Waldorf Astoria.
“I’m going to have to do a little schmoozing,” Anthony says as we walk up to the entrance of the hotel. “But I’ll try not to leave you alone for too long.”
“It’s fine.” I link elbows with Beatrice. “I have my favorite person to keep me company.”
The Grand Ballroom is exquisite, with ornate crystal chandeliers and two levels of balconies overlooking the main floor. It’s as if we stepped inside an episode of Bridgerton, and are awaiting the arrival of the Duke and his new Duchess.
Beatrice finds our seats at one of the round tables while Anthony whisks me around the room, introducing me to teammates and other NFL bigwigs. I shake hands, and smile so much my cheeks start to ache, but the whole time my eyes scan the crowd for one person.
The one who I know isn’t here.
The one who should be here.
Is he home alone?
Is he thinking about me as much as I’m thinking about him?
Does he hate that I’m here with Anthony?
After twenty minutes of small-talk and schmoozing, an older man taps the microphone, garnering our attention. “If everyone will please take their seats. We’d like to begin.”
Back at our table, Beatrice laughs with Watson and Bentley. The first genuine smile tonight pushes up my cheeks as they each wrap me in a bear hug.
“It’s good to see you all again.”
Bentley tips his cowboy hat. “The pleasure is ours. You look beautiful.”
Watson licks his teeth, and gives me a smoldering look I’m sure works on all the women he tries it on. “You’re looking fine tonight, Charly. You better save me a dance.”
Anthony hugs me to his side, possession tipping up his chin. “She’s here with me. Back off.”
I grin as I lower myself into the chair beside Beatrice. “It’s really good to see you guys.”
A hush falls over the crowd as we turn our attention back to the man standing at the microphone. “Thank you all for joining me for this very special event. Your generosity tonight will help provide assistance to the estimated 93 billion children in the world living with disabilities. Together, we can remove the barriers standing before them so they can grow and flourish to reach their full potential. We can help their families continue to advocate for them, and receive the assistance they need. And we can continue to build an inclusive community so these children and their families don’t feel isolated.”
We applaud his words before he continues. “I’d like to invite someone up here with me. Someone who can tell you what it’s like firsthand to live with a disability. Someone who we once cheered for as he charged down the field. He’s been our greatest contributor to this charity, year after year, and for the first time is gracing us with his presence. It is an absolute honor to introduce: Bryce Holden.”
My eyes fly to the side of the room, and my mouth falls open.
Bryce?
Bryce is here?
Bryce is giving a speech?!
My lungs forget how to breathe. My eyes won’t blink. Every muscle in my body is frozen, stunned, unable to move. The only organ working is the one slamming into overdrive inside my chest.
Bryce strides to the center of the room with his cane, and waits for the applause to die down. His eyes squint against the spotlight, and he hooks a finger in the collar of his white shirt, giving it a tug. Our table is so close, I can see his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows. He clears his throat, and his eyes flutter closed for a brief moment as he takes a long inhale through his nose. He stands tall in a crisp black suit, so strong and handsome, with his wild hair tamed, slicked back from his neatly shaven face.
He’s wearing a yellow tie.
Beatrice’s hand reaches over and covers mine in my lap, giving me a squeeze. In my peripheral, I know Bryce’s friends are watching me, waiting for my reaction, but the only thing I can focus on is Bryce. I can feel his nerves rolling off of him, and I want to run to him, want to hold his hand and whisper words of encouragement in his ear.
Then his sable eyes drift to our table, and lock with mine.
My skin heats, thawing my frozen body, and my lips part with a gasp for air. Bryce’s intense gaze brings me back to life. The way it always did.
You can do this, my eyes say.
I can do this because of you, is his silent reply before he opens his mouth to speak. “I’m ashamed that this is the first time you’re all seeing me here. I wish I would’ve been able to come sooner. I’m also ashamed to be recognized as a guest of honor tonight. Everyone in this room knows how I became disabled, and that doesn’t feel very honorable. I think that’s why this charity has been so important to me. Kids are innocent. They didn’t ask to be born with a disability, or sustain one after birth. They didn’t make a foolish choice like I did. Still, I received the best care, not because I deserved it, but because I could afford it. That doesn’t seem fair to me. Assistance shouldn’t depend on your financial situation.”
He takes a shaky breath, and his eyes come back to mine. “This summer, I met someone who told me, There has to be something we can do. She wanted to do more than donate money to an important cause. She wanted to advocate for that cause, and raise awareness. Not everyone has the luxury of buying the things they need to support their disabilities, and she’s right—there has to be something we can do about that. So, I’m here tonight because I want to start doing more. I want to help the children who need it.” He laughs. “I’m no role model. Society loves to tell disabled people we’re an inspiration, and give us a medal for doing everyday things. I’m not sure how I feel about that. Sure, it’s hard as fuck to get out of bed when you’re in pain 24/7. But it’s even harder when you don’t have the motility aids you need to help you. I don’t need applause for living my life. I just need access to the equipment and doctors that can help me live like everyone else. Disability isn’t the problem. Accessibility is.”
He shrugs. “I’m not really great with my words, so this is all I could come up with to say to you. Thank you for listening, and thank you for being here tonight. Your donation can change someone’s life.”
The room erupts as everyone stands and claps for Bryce. Pride swells like the cloud of an atomic bomb in my chest as tears prick my eyes.
But then Bryce walks away.
I crane my neck to see where he’s going, lifting out of my chair, about to run after him.
Beatrice grips my hand. “He’ll be back, my dear. He just has to take a few pictures.”
I turn to face her. “He’s coming back?”
She nods. “He won’t leave without seeing you. In the meantime, you can read this.” She reaches into her purse, and pulls out my yellow quilted journal.
“You found it?”
“I told a white lie. I hope you can forgive me.”
“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”
She places it in my lap. “Read the last entry, and you’ll understand.”
I flip through the book until I get to my last entry from the day I left Sunnyside. Next to it on the opposing page is another entry—one I didn’t write.
September 7th
Dear Charly’s Mom,
Hi. It’s Bryce. Your daughter has written about me in this journal, so I feel like I don’t need to introduce myself, or give you too much background information. You’ve probably watched everything unfold from where you are, so you already know everything you need to know up until this point.
I definitely don’t need to tell you that you raised an incredible daughter. She’s kind, and caring, and compassionate, and she’s unlike anyone I’ve ever known. I wasn’t ready for her when she arrived at my grandmother’s inn. I was stuck in my own head. I was moving through life like a piece of driftwood floating down a river with no sense of purpose or direction.
My Nana talks a lot about purpose. She says everyone has a purpose in life, something they’re driven to do. And it’s more than a career, more than catching a football, or making a tackle, or winning a Super Bowl. I’ve done all of those things, and at the time, it felt like I’d found my purpose. But I confused ability with purpose. When that was taken away from me, I lost myself. I didn’t know who I was without football, and people treated me like I wasn’t worthy of anything without it, so how could I think any different? I stopped trusting people because I stopped trusting myself. If I could make such a monumental mistake, like getting into a fight with a stranger over something so meaningless, then what kind of person was I? I was ashamed of myself, and in turn, I punished myself for it.
I fell in love with your daughter. I couldn’t stop myself. My heart became hers, and I wanted to believe that I could be someone worthy of her love. I tried. I did things for her without even thinking twice about it, because I needed to see her smile. Because she deserves to be happy. Because someone as amazing as her should feel cared for every single day. But after six years of telling myself that I’m not good enough, how could I convince myself that I could be the man she deserves in only a couple of months? My fear and insecurity crept back in as the reality of her leaving got closer. I got scared, and I did what I always do. I retreated.
I let Charly go because I thought I was doing the right thing for her. I thought you’re supposed to set the beautiful butterfly free instead of holding it captive, and stifling it. But Charly isn’t a butterfly. She is a human with the capability to think for herself, and make decisions to go after the things she wants. And if she wants me, then how could I deny her of that? I’d give her the world if I could. Why would I break her heart, and force her to do something she doesn’t want to do? I spent the summer helping her live her life to the fullest, and part of living your life to the fullest means feeling everything to the fullest too. It means diving head-first into experiences and emotions, living in the moment, and taking what you want. That’s what Charly tried to do. But I was so used to being let down, to letting myself down, that I let her down in the end because it was familiar and safe. It was the easy way out.
But I don’t want easy. I want Charly. I want it all with her.
These past few weeks without her have been pure agony. It feels as if my heart has been ripped from my chest. Yet that’s not why I want to try to get her back.
I want to be the one who makes her smile.
I want to be the one who holds her when she needs comfort.
I want to be the one she lets herself fall apart in front of.
I want to be the one who pushes her to grow and learn and try new things.
Most of all, I want to be the one she trusts her heart with.
That’s why I’m writing to you, Ms. Johnson. I want you to know that I’m going back to therapy, and I’m going to work on my trust issues, and work on forgiving myself for the mistakes in my past. I want to be the person Charly deserves. I want to be better, for me and for her. I want to work at it every single day—together.
You might not be here for her, and for that I am truly sorry. I know how much she misses you. But I promise, I’m going to be everything you’d want me to be for your daughter. I’m going to be the man you’d be proud to see her with. I’m going to take care of her for you.
I just hope she lets me.
Love,
B.
I blink down at the page, tears streaming down my face and blurring my vision.
He loves me?
He wants to be with me?
Questions swarm my mind, but I don’t have time to sit with any of them because a finger tucks under my chin, and tips my head, tearing my eyes off the paper.
Anthony’s blue eyes sparkle as he gives me a soft smile. A genuine one, for the first time. “He’s waiting for you up on the roof. If you love him, if you can forgive him, then go to him. And Charly, be sure this is what you want, because that man can’t take any more heartache. If you go up there, you’re going all in.”
I drop my journal onto my chair as I fly out of my seat.
I bunch my dress in my fists as I dash out of the ballroom, weaving in and out of the crowd, and make my way to the lobby.
A security guard stops me. “Can I help you, Miss?”
“The rooftop. How do I get to the roof?”
He lifts his finger to the hallway. “Take the elevator to—”
“Thank you!”
My heels clack against the floor, nearly sliding out from under me as I run to the elevators. I press every button, smacking them multiple times.
“Come on. Come on.”
One of the doors slides open as it dings. I dart inside, and click the button for the rooftop until the door closes. My chest heaves as I watch the digital numbers rise, my heart thumping in my throat.
Bryce is here.
Bryce is waiting for me.
Bryce loves me.
The door opens to a breathtaking view of the nighttime skyline. A cool autumn breeze blows through my hair as I step out onto the roof, raising goosebumps on my skin. I walk under the hanging string lights toward the tall man standing by the edge of the railing, overlooking the bustling city below, my hurried steps now slowing the closer I get.
He turns around, removing his hands from his pockets, and obsidian stones shine down on me.
I grip onto the railing to steady myself, unable to trust my shaking legs to hold me up. “Y-you’re here.” I don’t recognize my own voice. It sounds garbled, like I’m talking underwater.
“So are you.” His deep tone sinks into my bones like an old familiar tune.
“You knew I would be.”
He nods, the faintest hint of a smirk pulling at one corner of his full lips. “You look stunning in this dress. My heart almost stopped beating when I saw you walk in.”
My hand moves of its own volition, stroking his yellow satin tie that matches my dress. “Your speech was ...” I shake my head, unable to form words. “I’m so proud of you.”
“I always want to make you proud.”
“Is it true?” My bottom lip trembles. “Everything you wrote in my journal?”
“I meant every single word.” He swallows as he takes my face into his large hands, his thumbs stroking my cheeks. “I’m so sorry for letting you leave thinking I didn’t want to be with you. I’m sorry I hurt you, and made you cry. I’m sorry I didn’t come after you when you left. I’m sorry I was too afraid to let myself be what you wanted us to be. And I’m sorry I didn’t tell you this sooner.” His eyes bounce between mine. “I love you, Charly. I’m irrevocably in love with you. You’ve marked my soul forever. And I don’t want to let you go. I don’t care about the distance. I don’t care what we have to figure out. I only care about you. Please say you can forgive me, and that you’ll let me make things right.”
Hope, love, butterflies, and warmth explode inside my chest. I grip onto his suit jacket, willing my legs to hold me up just a little bit longer. “Bryce, I love you too. I forgive you, because you deserve forgiveness. You’re going to make mistakes, and so am I. But we have to learn from them, and grow in order to move on. I want to grow and move on with you. I want us to help each other, the way we did this summer. Just don’t shut me out. Please. Whatever happens, I want us to face it together.”
“I won’t shut you out again.” A lone tear rolls down his cheek. “You ... you love me?”
“You were worried about being someone I could give my heart to. But you have it, Bryce. You’ve had my heart all this time. You’re not someone I could love—you are the one I love.”
He backs me against the railing, and claims my mouth, ravishing me with the most passionate kiss. With one hand, he grips my jaw, while the other wraps around my waist and holds me against him. I open for him, my tongue searching for its counterpart, and when it wraps around mine, tears spill from the corners of my eyes. We’re breathless and frenzied, my hands in his hair, his fingers bruising my skin.
“I’ve missed you so much,” I murmur against his mouth. “This city doesn’t feel like my home anymore.”
“You’re my home.” He scrapes his beard against my neck, sucking the sensitive skin just below my ear. “I want to be wherever you are.”
“I miss the inn. I miss Maine. I miss Edward.” I freeze, pulling back to look into his eyes. “Wait, where’s Edward?”
“He’s with my friend.”
“You have friends?”
He jabs me in my ribs, grinning as he leans in and bites my earlobe. “I have friends, smartass.”
I wrap my arms around the back of his neck. “Please tell me you were feeling presumptuous about our reunion, and you got your own room here tonight.”
“I did.” He brushes a strand of windblown hair from my face. “But we should talk first. I want to explain everything that happened before you left, and I have a lot to tell you about what I’ve been doing since then.”
I grip his face in both of my hands, and shake my head. “We’ll have plenty of time to talk tomorrow. Right now, all I need is you.”
His eyes bounce between mine, reflecting with anticipation. “Are you sure?”
I’ve never been more sure of anything.
“I need you, Bryce. Just you. Take me to your room.”
After a painfully slow elevator ride, and a hotel door that wouldn’t unlock—why do those things never work on the first try?—we crash into Bryce’s hotel room, kicking off our shoes and stripping out of our clothes.
Bryce reaches into his suitcase, and pulls out a strip of condoms, tossing them onto the nightstand.
My eyebrows jump. “You were presumptuous.”
He smirks, backing me all the way to the floor-to-ceiling window beside the bed, eyeing me like a predator preparing to pounce. “I was hoping for the best.”
Long and thick, his dick sways with his steps. Desire heats my core, my muscles clenching from the memory of how he once felt inside me.
“You’re so beautiful, Charly.” He tips my chin, lifting my eyes to his. “I love you.”
“I love you.” My shoulders hit the cool glass, and I squirm under his intense gaze. “Touch me, Bryce. I need you.”
His fingertips trail down my chest, and he cups one of my breasts while playing with the other, giving my nipple a gentle tug between his thumb and index finger. His mouth clamps over it, sucking and rolling his tongue over the pebbled bud.
“God, I’ve missed you.” He skates his fingers down my stomach, and slides them between my legs.
I arch my back, leaning into his touch. I reach between us, and wrap my hand around his length, squeezing and pumping the way he once showed me. But he takes my hand, and holds it over my head, pressing it against the window.
“My heart belongs to you, Charly.” His tongue swoops inside my mouth as he swirls his fingers around my clit. “You own me. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” comes out in a breathy moan. “You’re mine, Bryce. And I’m yours.”
He releases my hand, and I whimper at the loss of his touch between my thighs. He tears open a condom from the nightstand, and rolls it over himself before he’s back in front of me. He takes my hips and spins me around, pressing my breasts against the window. His lips are on my neck, his warm breath in my ear, and his hand snakes around to glide between my thighs again. I let my head fall against the glass, gazing down to watch Bryce’s long fingers stroke me.
His hardness presses against my ass, and I bend over, spreading my legs wider. He coats himself with my wetness, and then he slips inside me.
I can see our reflection in the mirror above the dresser to my left—his magnificent muscular body thrusting into me, one hand gripping my hair, the other rubbing my clit, my breath fogging up the glass as I pant and moan under Bryce’s touch. We’re sweaty skin slapping together, open-mouthed kisses breathing into each other, gripping onto one another while he fucks me like nothing else matters.
After I come, clenching around him with his name on my lips, I lead him to the plush chair across the room, and I ride him until he finds his release. He pours himself into me, and I feel him surrender every last bit of him that he’s been holding on to, the pieces he’s been too ashamed to let me see.
I love those parts of him the most.
Because the things you think are the ugliest, most unlovable parts of yourself are the parts that deserve the most love.