Page 20 of Shadowing Charlotte

Chapter twenty

Alexander

I knew she was on lunch; I'd checked the time over and over again. I imagined she'd gone to that little cafe again, but I couldn't know for certain. I was too busy watching Mrs. Guzman get her hair done. Again.

Please talk to me.

Charlotte

When my last text bubble turned green, I knew I was fucked—utterly and completely—fucked. I pulled open our Facebook messages. You are not friends with Charlotte Emmerson on Facebook.

"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!" I hit the steering wheel over and over again, the phone falling to the floor beneath my seat.

She'd fucking blocked me on her phone. She'd removed me from her Facebook.

Worse, she'd made her profile private, leaving me with no way to see what was happening in her life—a life she was making painfully clear that I was no longer a part of.

I pushed the seat back, digging blindly for my phone, cutting my finger on the broken screen. It needed to be replaced, but I found myself staring at the shattered glass, wondering if it was the only thing I had left to prove that Charlotte and I had been together, that it had been real.

Nearly two months, Miguel. She hasn't been anywhere out of the norm. Either she knows you'd hired someone, or you're just fucking paranoid.

Maybe if you paid attention to your wife, she wouldn't feel the need to get her hair done every fucking week .

I knew as soon as I sent the text, I was going to be fired from the job. Still, I couldn't help myself. Mr. Guzman was convinced his wife was sleeping around, and yet, he'd never once bothered to change his schedule; to come home and spend time with her.

He was an asshole. And so was I.

I didn't bother to answer his call, or the three consecutive texts that chimed on my phone.

Instead, I drove straight to Hewart Press and parked on the adjacent corner.

For nearly five hours, I sat there, barely moving, draining the vape she'd given me until it tasted like nothing but burnt coils. Burnt and empty, exactly like I felt.

Just before six, Charlotte pushed through the glass doors and stepped out onto the sidewalk.

I was back in the Camaro; I knew she saw me.

Still, she didn't offer a second glance my way, her long ponytail bouncing as she rounded the corner toward the parking garage.

She looked beautiful, a contented smile on her lips as she walked, looking completely unbothered.

I pulled open our Facebook messages.

Charlotte

Baby, please. Give me a chance to fix this.

I watched as she pulled the phone from her pocket, glanced at the screen, and dropped it into her purse. She wasn't even going to bother to reply. Invisible hands dug into my chest again, tearing it open and squeezing my heart until I felt like I was going to faint against the steering wheel.

She was nearly at her car when I gunned the engine and skidded to a stop on front of her.

"Charlotte, damn it! Let me talk to you!

" I pleaded as I jumped out, leaving the engine running.

The smile she'd worn previously was gone, replaced with that cold, unfeeling look she'd given me the night before, like she had a switch inside her that she could flick on and off at will.

"I don't want to talk to you," she replied in a whisper, her words barely audible over the breaking of my heart. "Leave me alone." She stepped around me, but I latched on to the sleeve of her shirt.

"Charlotte, don't do this…" I begged, completely uncaring of how pathetic I sounded.

She yanked her arm out of my hold, glaring up at me. "I'm not doing anything. All of this was a mistake; I've just been too stupid to realize what we were doing."

"Don't say that, princess—"

"I want you to leave me alone, Alexander. For good… If I see you parked on my street, I'll call the cops, like I should have years ago." Without another word, she turned and walked away from me, leaving me standing there with a gaping hole in my chest.