It wasn’t like her mother to use so many exclamation points. She must mean business. But for the first time in her nearly thirty years, Charlotte didn’t care. It was as if it had finally hit her that she was responsible for her own life. She had no one to blame for the emptiness but herself. She’d bought everything Marcia sold, and the result had been a life of loneliness.
She’d achieved every professional goal she’d set for herself (with Marcia’s influence). And only now did she realize it had all left her feeling a little empty. Living for applause, for “atta girls,” for the approval of others had left her cold. She was ready for something new.
Ready for her work to mean something.
She’d woken up early and gone for a run. It cleared her head and gave her a chance to explore Harbor Pointe.
She rounded the corner, easily getting lost in her thoughts as she ran through the quaint neighborhoods that were about as different from the Chicago landscape as a person could imagine. It was odd how Lake Michigan views could be so different depending on their surroundings.
Cottages with neatly manicured lawns lined the brick road, most accented by sprays of purple and pink flowers. Children rode their bikes, laughing and playing. Across the street, two girls were jumping rope. It was like something out of a movie.
Two women pushed strollers in the opposite direction, and Charlotte moved out of their way as they passed, both of them smiling and giving her a polite “Hello.”
So this was what a small-town life was really like.
She reached an intersection and recognized the street to her right. Julianna’s street. The stark realization that things were not always as they seemed smacked Charlotte—hard. Behind the walls of these idyllic homes, at the heart of desirable neighborhoods, there was pain. Real, unbearable, up-ending pain.
She turned down the street. She knew Connor probably didn’t want to see her, but she’d told him she was going to be a better friend, and she meant it. And maybe a part of her wanted to tell him about the rescheduled recital.
Maybe she wanted his approval.
She slowed her pace, eyeing the front porch when she noticed a little girl was sitting on the swing, writing in a notebook.
Amelia.
Charlotte stopped in front of the gray cottage. The thick white trim perfectly accented the windows and door, but unlike the other houses she’d just been admiring, the Ford yard wasn’t so neatly manicured. Dandelions covered the green grass like a blanket, and the flowerbeds were overgrown. She knew nothing about tending to a yard, but even she saw the difference between theirs and the others on the street.
I just want to help.
“Hey, Amelia.” Charlotte stood at the bottom of the porch steps.
The little girl looked up but didn’t respond.
She’d briefly introduced herself at church the day before, but as she stood in front of Julianna’s oldest child now, she found herself tongue-tied. So many things she wanted to say. Stories she wanted to share. Apologies she wanted to offer.
The sound of a vehicle approaching drew the girl’s eyes. Charlotte followed her gaze toward the street just in time to see a familiar truck ambling toward her.
Cole.
Her stomach twisted.
He parked along the curb and exited the truck while Charlotte did her best to focus on his trademark scowl and not how attractive he was.
So far, she was failing.
But honestly, any woman with a pulse would’ve struggled in her situation. Yes, he was grumpy and rude, but he obviously had a soft spot for his family, and that was maybe even more attractive that his muscular torso and eyes as dark as hot fudge.
Today he wore jeans, a navy blue T-shirt, and a baseball cap, topped off with a pair of aviators that made him look like a male model.
Oddly, Charlotte had the feeling Cole had no idea just how attractive he was. He could’ve easily been the kind of guy who brought a new girl home every night, but she also got the feeling he had no interest in that.
Of course, that only made him more appealing.
He walked around to the other side of the truck and took off his sunglasses. He glanced at Amelia, then back at Charlotte.
“Hey,” she said.
“Hey.”
She stood, awkwardly, for several seconds, feeling every bit the imposition she was.
“What are you doing here?” he asked with another glance at Amelia.
That she hadn’t divulged her connection to his sister by now was