All This Time

35 ⦿ in which i bury the hatchet

The answer should have been obvious from the start, but like most things in life, people rarely saw what was under their very noses. I had always considered myself the exception to this rule, thinking that I was somehow a homosuperior in a world where girls lost themselves in order to gain someone else.

I need to talk to Xander.

Without preamble, when Xander opened the door and gaped to find me on his doorstep at an hour when I should have been fast asleep, I asked, "When did you know you wanted to marry Graeme?"

"I—" With a wild glance around him, like he still couldn't believe that I was there, he took a step away from the door. "Come in, Char."

"Thanks." I enter, noticing a flutter of nightgown inside Xander's bedroom.

A second later, Graeme's rumpled bedhead pops out of the doorway, her eyes going wide when she sees me. "Charlotte?" She disappears from view, but her disembodied voice calls out, "What's wrong?"

Xander shuts the door behind me. "Is it Wolf?"

My face cracks into a relieved smile. Trust Xander to get right to the heart of the matter. "Yes," I say, thankfully spared from saying more as Graeme emerges from the bedroom, a fluffy robe wrapped around her.

We may have called a truce, but I'm still nowhere near to the place where I can exchange girl talk with Graeme. There's still a sliver of self-preservation running through my veins and above all, the knowledge that the bond between Graeme and her brother is strong – maybe even stronger than my relationship with Xander.

There doesn't seem to be anything she doesn't share with Wolf, and yet, there are some things I will never tell Xander. Someone else would have wielded this power with impunity, but I still remember the girl who looked at me with terrified eyes, knowing that I held the ammunition to poke holes in her sails.

"Shall I make you guys tea?" asks Graeme, and even though I have spent so much of the last five years disliking her, affection washes over me.

Her eyes meet mine and the gentle honesty I see there takes me aback. Graeme won't push her way into this. She will make us tea and then she will make some excuse to leave, I realize.

There isn't a hint of jealousy in her face. Only sincerity.

"Yeah," says Xander, looking at me with worry. "That'd be great, babe." He motions to the sofa, a remnant of his bachelor days, a turd-brown monstrosity that I told him not to buy, but he insisted it would cover stains well.

I sink into the cushions and he sits next to me, our knees knocking. In the kitchen, Graeme bustles around humming to herself, only the soft clinks of ceramic cups and her off-tune rendition of Taylor Swift's latest song penetrating the silence.

"Things are complicated," I mumble to him.

His forehead creases and he leans forward, lowering his voice. "Charlotte, did something happen with Wolf after we left?"

I shake my head. "No. Nothing happened." A bitter laugh escapes my lips and my throat tightens. "He just said something that reinforced everything I've thought about him for years."

Xander nods in understanding, although he still doesn't understand, but I love him for trying. "Wolf, well, you know how he is."

That's the trouble – I do know how he is. "Yeah," I say. "And I know how I am, too."

That makes Xander sit up a bit straighter. "Does this have something to do with"—his eyes flick to Graeme—"what happened in the Netherlands?"

Now it's my turn to stiffen. "What do you think happened?" I ask, curious, scanning his face for any signs that he knows the truth.

He gives me a rueful smile. "I'm not as oblivious as you think, you know."