Stella and the Boxer

Chapter 47

“Are you kidding me? I love you. I’d rather be away from you than watch you miss out on an amazing opportunity. Do you really think that all would add up to me just finding another guy to hang out with when you’re gone?”

He shakes his head and looks down at his feet.

“I’m the one who should be worried,” I say, more quietly, sadly, “Do you not see the potential that you’ll forget me when you’re traveling with your uncle? Or when you’re in the city alone, without me tagging along everywhere?”

He scoffs and turns again, this time continuing into the bathroom.

I sit down on the bed and wait. Charlie emerges from the bathroom after only a few moments, dressed in the jeans and shirt that he’d worn before our shower.

“I’ve given you every reason I possibly could to trust me,” he says, “Not to mention, I told you a thousand times that I would stay for you, and you reject me! No matter what, you push me away.”

He runs his hand through his hair roughly and starts out of the bedroom, but he does not make it into the hallway before I get another word in.

“You know, your constant nagging doesn’t really make me want to go anywhere with you,” I said harshly. “And if I do find someone else to ‘play house with,’ I hope they listen the first time I tell them that I don’t want to do something.”

Charlie stops in the doorway, turning to glare at me. But before he can turn away, his glare melts into an expression of hurt and betrayal, and he walks from the room without saying anything to me.

I hear Cooper pad over to the bed and sit down beside it. I roll onto my side and find him staring up at me with begging eyes.

“Hey, buddy,” I smile weakly, reaching over to pet his head. He stays beside me for only a few moments before returning to his own bed. Rather than lie back down, I crawl out from underneath the covers and walk slowly into the hallway, stopping at the closed door of Charlie’s office.   

Just as I’m raising my hand to knock at the door, I begin to hear rain against the windows and roof.

“Come in,” Charlie says upon hearing my quiet taps.

I push the door open slowly, peering in towards his desk. He sits in his brown leather desk chair, with his back to me.

He doesn’t turn around; he stays engrossed in whatever is on his desk – likely New York apartment contracts or something from his uncle.

I walk slowly, laying my hand on his shoulder when I reach him.

“I can’t believe I said those things to you. I’m so sorry,” I say quietly.

He breathes a sigh and sits up, turning towards me in his chair, and away from his work.

“It’s okay, baby. I’m sorry too. I know it’s your choice, and I know that it means more to you than I understand.”

He pauses, his eyes trailing over my body, clad in only one of his softest tees.

He looks much older, sitting at his desk with a spread of papers and his laptop in front of him. But it isn’t only the setting that contributes to his look of maturity. Despite his sometimes boyish appearance, and his preserved sweetness, I silently consider the fact that Charlie was likely never fully youthful, even as a child.

“Come here,” he says finally, opening his arms to me.

I sit in his lap with my back against one of the armrests of his chair, my legs bent over the other at my knees. He keeps his arms wrapped around me as I settle into his hold, and I lay my head against his shoulder. I watch the rainfall against the window straight in my line of sight, and now and then, I see lightening and hear soft rolls of thunder. Charlie reads on his desk, rubbing circles against my skin while he holds me.