Meet the Boyfriend

Roy sat at the small kitchen table with a mug of coffee cradled between both hands, watching Charlotte move around her apartment as if he had always been there, as if there was nothing out of the ordinary in the situation he was now in. Even the coffee, handed to him by Charlotte with a warm smile, was doctored exactly how he liked it: black with sugar. How could she possibly have known that?

Charlotte hummed softly to herself as she opened cupboards, shifted things from one counter to another, then seemed to forget what she had been doing and wandered back again. She moved with an easy confidence, barefoot on polished floors, entirely at home. Entirely comfortable.

With him.

The thought still made his chest tighten.

He had showered, brushed his teeth with the spare toothbrush she had handed him without hesitation, and done his best to tame himself in her mirror. Of course, he was wearing the same clothes as the day before. The same button-down, the same trousers, now faintly creased and undeniably out of place in such a pristine, expensive space. As he buttoned the shirt, he silently wished he'd brought a change of clothes, just to retain the fresh feeling of the shower.

But how could he have known?

How could anyone have predicted that a drink after work would turn into waking up in a stranger's bed, being welcomed like a long-time lover?

Charlotte glanced over at him and smiled, warm and unguarded, as if she could sense his thoughts.

"You look cute like that," she said lightly. "All serious with your coffee."

Roy flushed and looked down at the mug, suddenly aware of how he must appear. Short, pudgy, balding. A man who had spent most of his life trying not to take up too much space.

And yet here she was.

She belonged in a magazine, he thought. Or on a runway. Someone who was photographed, admired, desired without effort. She did not belong fussing around a kitchen for a man like him, certainly not one who still felt like a guest in his own life.

She did not belong in bed with a sad sack like Roy Robinson.

And yet she had been. All night.

The clock on the wall ticked softly, and with it came the return of an unwelcome thought. Tom. One month. The quiet certainty that his career, his reputation, everything he had built, was already halfway to ruin.

This could not last.

Staying with Charlotte felt good. Too good. But at some point, surely, she would wake up. She would see him clearly. She would realize that whatever fantasy she was living in had nothing to do with the man sitting at her table in yesterday's clothes.

She would kick him out of her life as suddenly as she had brought him into it.

The thought made his stomach knot.

A sharp knock sounded at the door.

Roy jumped despite himself.

Charlotte brightened. "That'll be Tabitha," she said cheerfully. "My sister. I can't wait for her to meet you!"

Roy's heart skipped. He set the mug down carefully, suddenly very aware of himself. Of how he looked. Of how he might be perceived by someone who actually knew Charlotte.

They walked to the door together, hand-in-hand. Charlotte opened it without hesitation.

The woman on the other side was unmistakably her sister, though the resemblance was more in bone structure than style. Tabitha was younger, maybe late twenties, with short, spiky blonde hair and sharp features. Tattoos covered both arms, disappearing beneath the sleeves of a worn band t-shirt. She wore torn jeans and heavy boots, her posture relaxed, her presence unapologetic.

She was striking in an entirely different way than Charlotte.

And then, just for a brief moment, Roy felt it.

The hair on his arms stood up. That faint, electric awareness crawled over his skin again, quick and unmistakable.

Then it was gone.

In the next moment, a few things happened: Charlotte slipped her hand out of Roy's, then stepped away slightly. Tabitha's gaze moved from Charlotte to Roy, her smile widening as she took him in.

Without hesitation, she reached out and took his hand in her own, her grip warm and confident.

"Charlotte," she said easily, "I want you to meet my boyfriend, Roy."

Roy's eyes went wide.

Charlotte froze.

Roy stood there, hand in Tabitha's, coffee cooling behind him on the table, the world quietly and irrevocably shifting under his feet once more.