Page 60 of What He Doesn't Know

Until I rounded the corner into her classroom that morning and saw her sobbing.

Not crying, not sniffling, but completely broken down to her very core.

Her tiny face was crumpled in devastation, tissues balled up in each of her fists, back rounded and hair hanging all around her red, blotchy face as she stared at a photo on her desk.

Suddenly, it wasn’t about me or Cameron. It wasn’t about who would win. It wasn’t about marriage or infidelity or sex or love or betrayal or anything I thought before.

It was about her.

It had always been about her.

My chest split in two at the sight of her like that, and I made my way carefully to her desk, bending on one knee next to her. I didn’t ask her what was wrong. Instead, I placed one hand on her lower back and smoothed my thumb over the thick fabric of her dress. She closed her eyes at my touch, face twisting as if my tenderness had caused her even more pain.

“The kids are going to be here in less than twenty minutes,” she said in a weak, broken voice. “And I can’t… I can’t pull it together.”

“Robin can handle the kids for a while if you need time. Do you want to go to the library? Your car?”

She shook her head, using the tissue in one hand to wipe at her raw nose. “No, no I want to be here with them. I just… I need a minute to calm down.”

“Okay,” I said, still smoothing her back with my hand. “Wanna talk about it?”

Charlie sucked her lips between her teeth, fighting against another wave of tears. “Edward died last night.”

“Edward?”

“One of my birds.”

Her Budgies. She’d told me all about them, and I realized that was the photo on her desk she had been staring at when I walked in — one of the two birds in their cage with a beautiful sepia tone light coming in through the window behind them.

“Shit, Charlie. I’m so sorry. Last night?”

She nodded.

I chewed the inside of my cheek, searching my brain for the right words to make her feel better. Words never made me feel anything but more pain. Music had always been my healer.

I swallowed.

“Hey, why don’t you come by my place after school? I’ve got a dozen bottles of wine collecting dust — housewarming presents from neighbors and such. And I’ve been working on this new piece, an ode to my family. I was thinking it could maybe be the first original piece I played at my new gig. I’d love you to take a listen and tell me what you think.”

Charlie was already shaking her head before I’d even gotten the first sentence out. “I just want to go home.”

“To be alone?” I asked. “I know there’s a home game for the Penguins tonight. Sitting at the house by yourself is just going to make you feel worse.”

“But I need to be there for Jane.”

The other bird, I thought. “Bring her, too. Maybe she can give me some pointers.”

Charlie almost smiled, but then her face broke again, and she buried her eyes in her hands.

Shit.I was just making it worse.

“Look,” I said, brushing her hair out of her face so I could meet her eyes with mine. “The offer stands if you want to take it. Otherwise, lay in bed all night and eat ice cream or whatever else it is that might make you feel a little better. It’s okay to be sad, I was just offering a little bit of distraction and company. Okay?”

She sniffed. “Okay.”

“Okay. I’m going to get out of here so I stop making you cry more,” I said with a smile. “And I’m going to ask Robin to play a game with the kids in the hallway before class. Just to buy you a few more minutes. Alright?”

Charlie nodded, and I had to fight against every nerve in my body not to lean in and kiss her forehead in that moment. I stood instead, rubbing my hand over her back once more before I made my way toward the door.