Hate Notes

It wasn’t easy, pretending not to be wondering where she was or what she was doing every moment of the day. I’d vowed to give Charlotte space and to not interfere with her trip. But I couldn’t help wondering if she was safe or whether she was still sad and depressed. All I knew was that she’d be visiting France and Italy and planned to be gone a couple of weeks. She’d left her return date up in the air, too. I wondered if she ever planned to come back to Eastwood at all.

It was getting more difficult each day to concentrate at work. I did something I almost never do: I ventured to Central Park at lunch and decided to just sit on a bench and think. The autumn leaves were blowing around me as thoughts of Charlotte consumed me. Even with all that this city had to offer, it was amazing how bland a life could seem when the one person who matters suddenly disappears. I suppose it isn’t until that point that you realize just how much the person matters at all—until they leave you.

Suddenly, there was an awareness of a presence in my periphery. When I turned to my left, I noticed a young guy in a wheelchair who’d pulled in next to my bench.

He was probably around eighteen or nineteen and could have been a younger version of myself with dark hair and chiseled features. Good-looking kid.

I nodded. “Hey.”

Previously oblivious, he turned to me. “Hey.”

Feeling like I needed to say something more, I said, “Nice day, huh?”

“Uh . . . yeah.” He half smiled, seeming like he had a dozen better things to be doing than talking to me.

“Just out enjoying the weather?” I asked.

“No . . . uh, actually, I’m waiting for a Tinder date.”

Oh?

He must have noticed the look of surprise on my face when he squinted. “What? You think someone in a wheelchair doesn’t have game?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Yeah, well, the look on your face did.”

“I’m sorry if I looked that way.” A few moments of silence passed. I looked up at the sky, then turned to him. “So, Tinder, huh? It works for you?”

“Oh yeah. You wouldn’t believe the number of chicks who want to play the hero with me. I mean, I hook them with my face initially. We connect, and then they find out I’m in a wheelchair after the fact. You think they’d run? Fuck, no. That’s actually what seals the deal. It’s like they think they’re gonna save me or some shit. Meanwhile, I just want some ass. And I get it. Every single time. So it works out for everyone. So take that sorry look and save it for yourself. I’m the one getting laid today.” He leaned in. “Sex on wheels.”

Sex on wheels.

I bent my head back in laughter. Something told me I would never forget this kid. So much for preconceived notions. This dude was badass.

A few moments later, an attractive redhead walking a small dog approached.

“You must be Adam.”

He wheeled himself toward her. “Ashley . . . you’re even more beautiful in person.”

She blushed. “Thank you.”

He looked over at me with a slight smirk, then said to her, “Shall we get going?”

“Absolutely.”

Adam nodded once. “Nice talking to you, man.”

“Yeah. Take care.” I watched them until they were out of sight.

Here was this guy, living what was basically my worst nightmare, and he was happier than a pig in shit. It proved that attitude is everything in life. He exuded confidence and wasn’t missing out on anything because he believed he deserved more, and he chose to live, not hide.

It was funny how sometimes the universe placed something in front of you that was exactly what you needed to see at exactly the right time.

God, I sounded like Charlotte.

Pointing my index finger up at the sky, I said, “Damn, you’re good. Almost have me convinced.”

Fiddling with my watch in Iris’s office, I asked, “Have you heard anything from Charlotte?”

“No, but she sent me a file with her itinerary in case of emergency so that I’d know where she was.”

“And?”

“Well, I happened to look at it and noticed that she’s going to be taking an overnight train from France to Italy in a couple of days.”

“You mean . . . like a sleeper car?”

“Yes.” Her expression turned sullen. “Reed, I’m not so sure she’s traveling alone.”

My pulse sped up. “What makes you say that?”

“Just a feeling I have. I think that Blake man might be with her.”

Then it hit me.

The item on her Fuck-It List.

Make Love to a Man for the First Time in a Sleeper Cabin on a Train Ride Through Italy.

Panic started to set in. What if Iris was right? What if Charlotte wasn’t alone? She wasn’t in her right mind. Charlotte was too vulnerable to make smart decisions. Not to mention, she didn’t understand how I really felt about her. What if she was taking this trip with Blake to spite me for sleeping with her and flaking? She’d been distant lately, and she’d never mentioned that things were exactly over with him.

Charlotte had no idea the level of impact she’d had on my life, the depth of my feelings for her, because I’d never told her. Who could blame her for thinking she had nothing to lose at this point? Fuck, if the roles were reversed, I’d be on a sleeper train with Blake, too.

I’d been bullshitting myself and Charlotte for months. She believed the man who wrote the note was mostly gone. But the truth was . . . even if she wasn’t with another man, I wanted to be the one to make love to her on that train.

“Are you okay, Reed?”

I was speed-talking now. “No. No, I’m not. I’m afraid I really screwed up with Charlotte. I thought I could live without her, but I can’t. Now it may be too late to fix things. One of the items on her Fuck-It List is to make love to a man for the first time in a sleeper cabin. If she’s with this Blake, then she’s going to sleep with him on that train.” I stood up and paced.

“It’s not too late, Reed. Charlotte wants to be with you. Even if she’s with another man, it’s only because you’ve chased her away. You’re the one she wants. You need to go to her and tell her how you feel.”

I whipped around. “What if she’s with him?”

“Then you do it anyway. You can’t let her slip away.”

By God, she was right.

“No, I can’t. She’s the one, Grandmother. She’s the one, and that realization has been terrifying . . . but it’s undeniable.”

“Then go! You don’t have much time to catch her before she gets on that train.”

I wasn’t able to get onto a flight that would allow me to board Charlotte’s train in Paris. The only chance I had to get onto that train would be to catch it when it stopped in Venice on the way to Rome, which according to the itinerary was her final destination. That meant I could very well arrive and find that Charlotte had already fulfilled her wish of making love in a sleeper cabin with Blake, since by the time the train arrived in Venice it would be morning.

That was a chance I had to take.

When I landed in Venice, I just needed to get to the train station. I’d depended on the fact that I’d have internet on my phone to help me find my way there. But for some reason, I had no service. For the life of me, I couldn’t find anyone who spoke English. Even though I had no wireless, I could still text.

Note to self, never trust Max to take me seriously when I ask him to translate something into Italian for me. Instead of finding myself at the nearest train station, I ended up at the nearest whorehouse.

Remind me to wring his neck when I get home.

Even though my service returned, that detour set me back by at least a half hour. Fucking Max. I was really cutting it close.

I finally arrived at the Venezia Santa Lucia railway station. There were sixteen platforms, and I had to figure out how to find out which one Charlotte’s night train would be stopping at. Apparently Venice was the first stop and also the final destination for some of the passengers. Those who were continuing on to Rome would stay on the train. Not only did I have no clue whether Charlotte was actually on this train, I didn’t know if she was with that guy. My nerves were shot. My stomach felt sick.

Finally speaking to someone who understood English, I was able to find out which platform her train would arrive at. I purchased my ticket to Rome, then made my way to the other side of the station to wait by the tracks.

My mind was racing. What was I going to say to her? It felt like I had to prepare two different speeches for two different scenarios. Emotions were flooding my chest, but no words seemed to travel to my brain. I just hoped I could form something coherent if given the opportunity.

Right on time, at 11:05 a.m., the train pulled into the station. With my heart pounding, I watched as a swarm of people exited the front car and retrieved their luggage.

Handing my ticket to the conductor, I stepped onto the train, found a seat, and waited impatiently. I didn’t want to do anything that might get me in trouble while the train was parked, figuring they’d be much less likely to kick me out if we were moving.

Once the train took off again, I got up out of my seat to walk down to where the cabins were located. I knocked on every single door. Either there was no answer or I was greeted—in some cases, not so cordially—by people who were not Charlotte Darling.

Was she even on this train?

I was pretty sure at this point I would rather have not found her than discover her with another man in some kind of postcoital situation.

My heart stopped for a moment when I made my way to the final car, the dining room. It was empty, except for a beautiful blonde angel sitting in the corner, eating a croissant and looking out the window—alone.