I glowered at her. "My wife is gone. She left me. She's only coming back for the party and then she's leaving again—permanently. Just as we’d planned." Just as we'd planned.
Charlotte looked shocked for a brief moment, but then her knowing eyes roamed over my face as silence settled between us. "But it's not just as you planned, is it? Nothing is as you planned. And that scares you very, very much." Charlotte approached me and reached out her hand. I took it and she squeezed mine between both of her own, the comforting scent of her—baked goods and talcum powder—causing my breathing to calm. "Ah, my boy, you've fallen very hard, haven't you?"
"Fallen?" I took my hand from Charlotte's. "Fallen where?"
Charlotte smiled gently at me. "In love of course. With Kira. With your wife."
I swallowed heavily and turned toward the window. "I'm not in love with Kira," I insisted, but the words felt flimsy, as if they didn't hold any weight and might simply float away.
Charlotte sighed. "For the love of all things holy, you're both so stubborn. You two probably deserve no less than to be shackled to each other for life. It's a wonder watching you together hasn't driven me to drink."
I snorted. I was not in love with the little witch. Was I? No, I couldn't be—my emotions for her were too turbulent, too out of control, too . . . terrifying. Maybe I was obsessed with her, enchanted, beguiled. But love? No, not love. "She makes me crazy," I said, turning back to Charlotte. "When we're together, we act like out-of-control children half the time." And the other times like desperate lovers, unable to keep our hands off each other . . .
Charlotte made a clicking sound in the back of her mouth and nodded her head. "We should all be children when it comes to love—open and vulnerable." She paused. "I don't know everything there is to know about Kira's past, but I know you have good reason to guard your heart. And good reason to want to choose someone who doesn't inspire such passion, such intensity, and such fear. But, Gray, those feelings mean you love her. And for those who have been hurt as you've been, and as I suspect Kira's been too, true love is a scary prospect. True love is the greatest leap of faith there is."
I ran my hand through my hair. This was all too much and I didn't even know where to start, what to focus on. I was all twisted up inside, angry with Kira one minute, wanting her desperately the next . . .
"I think a good place to start," Charlotte said as if reading my mind, "is to talk to your brother and Vanessa. And listen to them, not with your hurt, but with your heart." She grasped my hand again. "And bear this in mind; love is not always smooth and easy. Love can be piercing. Love means exposing yourself—all of yourself, every tender part—to being hurt. Because true love is not only the flower, true love is also the thorns."
"Right," I said. "Sharp and painful."
Charlotte's laugh was a warm tinkling sound, like bells in a cathedral. She squeezed my hand tightly. "Sharp, yes, piercing yes. But not always painful. It's meant to strip you bare in order to heal. Be brave enough not to fight it. Surrender, my boy. Let go. For just once, have the courage to let go." She leaned up on her tiptoes and kissed my cheek and I bent slightly to let her. Then she smiled warmly, turned and left my room.