Chapter 5
A week later, Charlotte showed up at the auto shop.
I was sitting at the little desk in the back, going over the shop’s receipts for the month, when the bell above the front door jingled.
I looked up, and my stomach dropped.
She was wearing the same expensive dress she’d had on at the wedding, but it was wrinkled now, stained at the hem. Her hair was messy, no makeup, her eyes red and puffy like she’d been crying for days.
She looked nothing like the perfect, polished sister I’d grown up with.
“Mia,” she said, her voice wobbly. “Can we talk?”
I hesitated, then stood up.
Jake was under a car in the bay, his legs sticking out, a wrench in his hand. He looked up when he heard her voice, his face hardening.
“You want me to stay?” he said to me, quiet.
I shook my head.
“I got this,” I said.
I led Charlotte into the small break room at the back, closing the door behind us.
She sat down at the rickety table, her hands twisting in her lap.
“Ethan left me,” she said, without preamble. “He packed his bags yesterday. Said I ruined his life. Said he never would’ve been in this position if he hadn’t married me.”
She let out a bitter, wet laugh.
“Turns out he never even loved me,” she said. “He just wanted my last name. Thought my family’s connections would help him get the Hale deal. Joke’s on him, right?”
I didn’t say anything.
I just stood there, leaning against the counter, watching her.
She looked up at me, tears spilling down her cheeks.
“I’m sorry,” she said, the words coming out fast, like she was scared if she didn’t say them now she’d never be able to. “I’m so sorry, Mia. For the toast. For everything. For all of it. I was awful. I was cruel. And I don’t expect you to forgive me. I just needed you to know I’m sorry.”
I stared at her.
For twenty-eight years, I’d waited to hear those words.
I’d dreamed of this moment. Of her breaking down, of her admitting she’d been wrong, of her finally seeing me as her equal.
But now that it was here, it didn’t feel good.
It just felt sad.
“Why did you do it?” I said, my voice quiet.
She wiped her face with the back of her hand, smudging her mascara.
“Because I was jealous,” she said, so low I almost didn’t hear her.
I blinked.
“Jealous?” I said. “Of me?”
She laughed again, bitter and broken.
“Everyone always thought I had it perfect,” she said. “Pretty. Popular. Rich fiancé. The big wedding. But you… you had Jake. You had someone who looked at you like you hung the moon. Someone who didn’t care what you wore or how much money you made or what other people thought. Someone who loved you just for you.”
She looked down at her hands.
“I’ve never had that,” she said. “Ethan loved my image. Mom and Dad loved my achievements. No one’s ever just loved me. And I saw you two at the wedding, holding hands, not caring what anyone thought… and I hated it. I hated that you had something I could never buy. So I tried to take it away. I tried to make you feel as small as I felt.”
The room went quiet.
I thought of all the times I’d looked at Charlotte and wished I was her.
Wished I was as pretty, as confident, as loved by our parents.
And all this time, she’d been looking at me, wishing the same thing.
“Jake says the only way he’ll even consider helping Ethan is if you apologize publicly,” I said. “In front of all the same guests who were at the wedding. You have to post it on social media. You have to admit you humiliated me, and that you were wrong.”
Charlotte flinched.
“Everyone will see,” she whispered. “I’ll be a laughingstock.”
“You made me a laughingstock first,” I said, not unkindly. “Fair’s fair.”
She sat there for a long time, twisting her engagement ring around and around on her finger.
Then she pulled it off, set it on the table between us.
The diamond caught the light, big and cold and empty.
“Okay,” she said. “I’ll do it.”
She stood up, heading for the door.
“Charlotte,” I said, before she could leave.
She paused, looking back at me.
“Ethan didn’t deserve you,” I said. “Even if he was rich. Even if he was everything Mom and Dad wanted. He didn’t deserve you.”
Her face crumpled.
She nodded, then slipped out the door before she could start crying again.
I picked up the engagement ring from the table, turning it over in my fingers.
It was worth more than our cottage. More than the auto shop. More than everything I owned combined.
And it meant absolutely nothing.
Jake knocked softly on the doorframe, leaning against it.
“You okay?” he said.
I nodded, setting the ring back down on the table.
“Yeah,” I said. “I’m okay.”
He walked over, wrapping his arms around me, and kissed the top of my head.
“Whatever happens,” he said, “I’m right here.”
I closed my eyes, breathing him in—grease and coffee and the pine soap he used in the shower.
I knew there was still more to come.
More drama. More fighting. More of my family trying to tear us down.
May you like
But for right now, in this tiny, messy break room, surrounded by the smell of motor oil and the sound of a radio playing old rock songs in the next room…
I felt at home.
